Rev Mibi

Sermon for Sunday, February 5, 2012 Isaiah 40:21-31 “Steady”

2012-02-05T06:00:00.000-05:00

For his fiftieth birthday, my husband indulged himself in a midlife crisis. He, with his brother and other friends, decided to bicycle across the United States as part of a four-man team in something called “The Race Across America.” This was not a leisurely jaunt from B&B to B&B. No, this was hard-core. Not for nothing does the Race Across America – also called RAAM - bill itself as the world’s toughest bike race. Some member of the team was on his bike at all times, riding day and night, from San Diego to Annapolis. While one person was riding the others were either in the van following the rider or in the RV sleeping or eating. It took a total of 8 and a half days, a remarkable accomplishment given that one of the riders was injured about halfway across the country and the rest of the team had to work that much harder, riding longer each day, until they reached Annapolis.

The remarkable thing about this accomplishment, outside of the fact that four middle-aged desk jockeys like Doug, Chuck, Mike and Majd actually finished, was that they rarely rode very fast. Their pace was respectable, but it wasn’t as fast as Lance Armstrong or the other elite bicycle racers. No, to do RAAM and survive, you’ve got to find a pace that works for you and stick with it. Sometimes, when they had to reach check-in points by a certain time, they stepped up the pace, but mostly it was steady as she goes, day and night, hour by hour, across the country.

Steadiness. That’s not a virtue that you hear about very often in today’s world. No, it’s always about being the fastest or the strongest or the biggest. At the Super Bowl this afternoon, no one is going to laud a running back for his steadiness. In that contest, it’s all about speed.

And yet steadiness is one of the things that gets us through.

It is steadiness that Isaiah is talking about in the Old Testament reading today. He is chiding the people of Israel who are exiled in Babylon. They complain “My way is hidden from the Lord, and my right is disregarded by my God.” They feel that their time of trial is abandonment by God.

They whine and complain, and Isaiah responds as sharply as if he had slapped them. “Have you not known? Have you not heard? Has it not been told to you from the beginning?”

He launches into an ecstatic recounting of God’s history with his people, of God’s power and creative force, all the things that God has given them, God’s never-failing attention to them. He says they are in the grip of what William Carl calls “theological amnesia.”

They have forgotten who God is, because they have been so busy ignoring God and tending to their own needs…and look where it has gotten them, in the hands of foreigners, living in a strange land. He cries out to them: “Remember! Remember your God. He has not abandoned you. You have forgotten HIM! Look around and see God’s presence in everything and everyone you see and touch and use.”

He says that if they go back to the beginning of their understanding of God, if they steady themselves and rebuild that relationship, they will no longer feel like God has abandoned them. They will see and feel his presence even in their times of trouble.

Even more important, Isaiah reminds these broken people that God not only has not gone away, but that he is there to give them exactly what they need to soldier on, if they look for it: “…but those who wait for the LORD shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.” In other words, be steady in faithfulness, and God will supply the strength you need to survive whatever you must endure.

If you are running around yelling and complaining and struggling, how can you feel God’s presence? It is when you stop, stay still for a second, that you can regain that steadiness and calm that allows you to hear him, to feel him, with you.

I found myself thinking of this passage on Friday, when my colleague at Immanuel, Old Church would be presiding at the Memorial Service for the three year old twin girls who were murdered. How could the family of those beautiful little girls carry on with the awful burden of grief? How could they live with the worry that they should have seen something in the girls’ father’s behavior that would have been a clue to what he planned? How could they stop themselves from imagining, over and over again, how the girls might have suffered before they died?

It would not surprise me if the family said, like the Israelites, “My way is hidden from the Lord, and my right is disregarded by my God.” “I feel like God has abandoned me, and abandoned my girls, and I feel utterly lost and alone.”

Isaiah says that God is with us, even in the times when we are most broken, most betrayed by the world around us, most lost and in pain. If we turn to the Lord, if we remember his power and his love for all of that which he created, then we know that even in the most difficult times, we are not alone. This God loves us. This God remembers us, each one of us, by name. This God gives us the strength we need. All we need to do is to be steady, to pedal our bikes at an even pace, to be faithful, and he will be there giving us what we need, whatever the world does to us. Those who wait for the Lord, steady despite the insanity around them, shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not be faint, because the Lord will give them what they need to endure.

Amen.

Strange Weather, Strange Times

2012-02-04T16:27:00.003-05:00

It has been extraordinarily warm this winter here in Richmond. It was over 70 for two days this past week, and it is confusing our plants in the garden. Several daffodils are up, and the camellias are blooming. If and when we get a cold snap, those poor plants will get a shock.

Still, despite what Punxatawney Phil predicted, our local weather folks are saying the generally mild weather will continue, so we may have six more weeks of mild temps instead of true winter.

I'm of two minds about this. I like real winter, with enough snow that you can stay at home and enjoy the fire in the fireplace and drink hot cocoa. I don't like feeling chilled to the bone, though, and that's part of the package.

It's been another challenging week. I have taken over as dean of the region (sort of a mother hen to the parishes in our general area) and have worried about and prayed for one of our country churches, where they had a funeral for twin 3-year-old girls who were murdered by their father. This has rippled throughout the whole area - I presided at a Eucharist in the retirement community where the girls' great-grandmother lives, and all her friends there are grieving with her. So much pain and questioning in the midst of this - it informs the sermon I will preach for tomorrow, on Isaiah 40:21-31 ("Have you not known? Have you not heard?"

I also presided yesterday at a funeral in a funeral parlor for a lady who died at 53 after a hard life - she had been born and brought up Episcopalian, but had not been affiliated with a church for a long time. I find myself wondering if things would have been different for her if she had had a church family to help her. No answer to that, of course, just as there is no answer to whether things would have transpired differently for the aforementioned little girls if their father, who killed them before he killed himself, had been attending church and had talked to someone there in his depression and anger.

All we can do with these sorts of tragedies is leave in God's hands and hope that other people who are struggling as these two did will ask for help - our help in the church or other kinds of help.

We all face times of balmy weather and cold snaps. It's easier to handle if we do it with God as part of the picture, and with God's people to help.

Sermon for Thursday, February 2, 2012 Eucharist at Westminster-Canterbury Luke 2:22-40 “Seeing Things”

2012-02-02T12:00:00.000-05:00

Those of us who are older see things differently than those who are young. Part of it is just that we’ve lived longer, seen more things. There isn’t much in life that we haven’t experienced, be it good or bad. Part of it is that we’ve had time to reflect on our own lives, what we’ve experienced, how that has formed us and changed us. We’ve had great joy and we’ve had our hearts broken, and we have survived both those experiences.

That’s certainly true for me. I cannot look at a daylily on a summer day, especially those speckled orange ones we call tiger lilies, without remembering my first visit as a city girl to the country, when I went to Girl Scout camp at the age of 7. I had no idea there were places with so many trees, and that there were roads where hundreds – no, thousands – of those tiger lilies filled the ditches flanking the dirt road, their tangerine glory lighting up the day as we hiked alongside them.

I cannot walk in a churchyard without remembering with a chill the cold January morning when we buried my mother almost two decades ago, after her long battle with heart disease.

We who have lived a while see things more deeply than our younger friends and family, because we have touchpoints, memories, that help us give meaning to what we observe.

In this, we are in fellowship with Simeon and Anna, the elders in the synagogue when Joseph and Mary bring the infant Jesus to the temple to be dedicated to God, as Mosaic law decreed.

Imagine them now, an old man and an old woman, faithful believers in the one true God. Simeon had been promised by God that he would not die until he saw the Messiah. He spent most of his days now in the temple, waiting for the arrival of the anointed one as he had for many years, wondering perhaps if he would truly live until he saw the child. What a gift that God had given to this faithful man! Years to hone his skills in seeing, so that when the right child, that blessed child, came, he would recognize him. He was now old, so old that his eyesight was not very good, but when Joseph and Mary brought the child to the temple, he had no trouble seeing who and what this child was. At last, after all those years of waiting and watching! The child, the Messiah! And Simeon offered up a beautiful prayer, one that we still recite as one of the canticles in our prayer book:

"Master, now you are dismissing your servant in peace, according to your word; for my eyes have seen your salvation, which you have prepared in the presence of all peoples, a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel."

Simeon was grateful that God had kept his promise, both to the people of Israel in sending them deliverance through this Messiah, and to him, in giving him the gift of seeing who this child was.

But the gift of seeing does not mean that you only get to see wonderful and joyful things. The burden that Simeon carried was that he also saw how it would end for this baby, and he warned the child’s mother:

"This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed-- and a sword will pierce your own soul too."

We see more deeply, don’t we? And the hard part is that we see it all, good and bad.

This community knows that truth with particular sadness these days, when we mourn with our friend Louise over the senseless deaths of her great-granddaughters. We know bad things happen, that people go insane and hurt others, just as we know that little children are pure blessing and joy to us. We see how it is possible for such evil to happen. We wish we didn’t, as I am sure that Simeon wished he hadn’t seen what was going to happen to the precious infant Jesus that he held in his arms in the temple that morning. Sometimes it feels like we see too well, and wish we had the limited vision and naïve understanding of our youth. But this is the gift and the burden of our age – we see it all, too clearly to deny it. So it was with Simeon. So it is with us on this day, when we grieve the death of the King twins, when we weep tears of sympathy with their family.

The gift of vision, like all gifts, is simply given to us. It is given without regard to the good and bad we might see, but it is also given with the understanding that whatever we see, God sees with us. Whatever we see that frightens us, God knows about and stands behind us to strengthen us. Whatever we see that gives us joy, God knows about and stands beside us, smiling. Whatever we see that causes us grief, God knows about…and he wraps his love around us in shared grief.

We are not given this ability to see so deeply without a care for the emotions that it brings to us. And so, even in the most difficult times of seeing the hardest things, like the death of children, we know that we are not alone. We are never alone. The giver of the gift is with us, telling us that we must look, we must see, we must bear witness to what has happened, and we must pray that it will never happen again.

So we pray, and may our prayers help us to see the Resurrected Messiah as well as the Christ on the Cross. May our prayers help us to see two little children in heaven, as well as the poor hurt bodies they have left behind.

God bless us and keep us, and help us to bear the gift of seeing that we share.

Amen.

Sermon for Sunday January 29, 2012 Mark 1:21-28 “Crazy”

2012-01-29T06:00:00.000-05:00

What do you do when you’re confronted by a crazy person? You know the kind of people I’m talking about. They’re the ones who sit on a bench on East Broad Street, waiting for a bus that never comes, talking to themselves. They’re the people who act a little odd, or a lot odd, in bus stations or train stations. They’re sometimes the homeless among us, or they’re sometimes the relative whom we don’t invite to our Thanksgiving Dinner because their behavior is unpredictable and sometimes frightening.

They are different from us, and we feel that difference acutely. As a result, we tend to discount them. We think they live in some strange underworld that has nothing to do with us. We think they are the detritus of the world, worthless.

They don't contribute to society. They don't work, or pay taxes, or fix things or make things. They cannot do these things, of course, because they are crazy, or at least they seem crazy to us. We judge them, and say they are a drag on society, or probably addicts, or we are frightened of them, because their world seems entirely disconnected with our own.

And yet as Christians we understand rationally that they have value. We know that they are created by God, beloved by their creator just as we are...and yet when we encounter them, we still think of them as "less than."

In many ways, it is natural to view them that way. I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone describe the paranoid schizophrenic who lives under a bridge as someone who contributes to the world. You wouldn’t hire her to mind your children. You wouldn’t want him to draw your blood at the doctor’s office. No, for that you want someone who seems safe and rational and competent, and crazy people are, in our eyes, none of the above.

But the crazy people in the world have one skill that is rare and beautiful, one that few of us share with them.

They are the watchers. They see things, not just the top layer of things that we all can observe, but a deeper level of observation. Their observations are not always trustworthy, but sometimes they surprise us, because crazy people see things through a different lens. Their different perspective gives them the capacity to see things that we miss.

Sometimes, too, they sit still better than us, and those who sit still to observe catch things that we so-called normal people miss, whether it is a robin plucking a fat worm out of the spring earth or a policeman heading toward them to roist them out of their usual seat in the park. They see things, in the world and in humanity, sometimes so clearly that it is almost painful to them, and even to us.

I'm reminded of a man who stood next to me one bright Tuesday noon in McPherson Square in Washington DC. We were both attending a service of Street Church, a noontime Eucharist in the park for the street people and the office workers, a simple celebration of the Lord's Supper for people who were hungry for many things, not the least of whch was the sandwich and juice that would be handed out after the service. That man standing next to me was a sojourner, a wanderer from who knows where. He smelled bad and was twitchy. His clothes were worn and his backpack looked like it had seen better days.

He mumbled to himself, words I couldn't decipher. And the moment came in the service when we were to exchange the Peace, and I had no idea what I would do… I had no idea what he would do. But I took a deep breath, despite the odor that now surrounded us because he had wet his pants, and said "God's peace, my brother." I braced myself for whatever would come next, afraid that he might want to hug me.

“God’s peace, my brother.” He half-turned to me and stopped mumbling. He looked at me, waited a moment, and smiled and said "I need it. You need it too."

This strange man, possessed by some demon, whether it was drugs or alcohol or mental illness, this man who had wet his pants a few minutes before but seemed oblivious to it, this man who was mumbling to whomever...he had looked at me in a moment of strange clarity and had seen something in himself and in me. And he got in one. "I need it. I need God's peace. You need God's peace, too."

How could he have known?

I was in the midst of seminary. I had no idea where I would land, worried about money, about exams, about my thesis, my children, whether this had all been some monstrous mistake...and then a crazy man reminded me that my worries were irrelevant. I needed God's peace, and God would give it to me.

When Jesus began his ministry, he went into the synagogue to teach.There is some question whether he ever wondered about who he was and what he was doing. Yes, when he was baptized in the Jordan he heard his heavenly father's voice pronouncing a benediction on him and his mission. But perhaps he too wondered how this would all play out, or if he was doing it right, or whether he was deluded or even a tad crazy himself.

And then a truly crazy person came up to him. There was no hesitation in this man possessed by demons - he just started shouting at Jesus - or the demons within him did - naming Jesus in a way that the disciples didn't even dare - calling him the "Holy One of God."

The one person who could see who Jesus really was was not one of the disciples.It wasn't one of the religious leaders in the synagogue. It wasn't Jesus' relatives.

No, it was a crazy person, a man possessed by demons. This crazy man saw Jesus more deeply than the others did, especially the religious people. He named him as the Son of God. It was as if he had a microscope with which he could analyze Jesus’ DNA. He got it in one.

He was the forerunner of what Orthodox Christianity identifies as “holy fools,” saints who act foolishly, seemingly mad, talking in riddles, sometimes homeless, sometimes wandering around naked, but who are said to be prophets of God.

Maybe it's only the crazy ones who have the time to look deeply. Maybe their broken hearts and minds help them see what we in our arrogance and busy-ness are blind to.

Maybe the lesson of this story from Mark's gospel isn't that Jesus worked miracles and tamed demons, or that people were amazed by his words and works. Maybe the lesson is simply this: pay attention. Maybe the crazy people, the holy fools, have it right, and we have it wrong. Maybe we need to relearn how to see beyond our own circumscribed understanding of the world, and humanity, and God. Look deeply. Let yourself be holy fools. Let yourself be crazy enough to see the Son of God in unexpected ways, in unexpected people, in unexpected places, and be blessed.

Amen.

The Power of Purell

2012-01-18T10:20:00.003-05:00

What would we do without hand sanitizer? It may just be the placebo effect, but I feel better when I've got some handy near the altar. Right now I have a bit of a stomach bug, but am still going to preside at the noon Eucharist. I will use the Purell before the lavabo and I hope I will not transmit any germs or bugs or anything.

A friend sent me a message about my Purell jones: "There are some studies to suggest that the alcohol (Purell is alcohol based) does not kill viruses like flu or whatever causes the "stomach bug." It does have an effect on meaner viruses like Hepatitis. Reason being the lower grade stuff is not encapsulated. Some of the more serious viruses are and the alcohol kills off the encapsulation. The more prevalent viruses don't have this encapsulation and fare better through the alcohol. This is all from a small study at Yale. Now, I did read about a different product called Soapopular that is used in the UK and does not use alcohol but instead uses something else and may be more effective on the typical viruses we come across."

May be true, but I'll go with what I can get domestically, namely, Purell and similar stuff.

If parishioners are hacking and coughing, I always use it after the Peace...again, I don't want to pass anything along that was passed to me.

When swine flu was around and people were nervous, we instituted the "elbow bump of peace." Some folks were even more careful, and used "the gingerly little wave of peace." We all have our little things that make us feel like we are in control of our environment and our health...whatever makes you feel safer is fine by me.

It would be awful if I caused one of my parishioners to get sick. Of course, they've passed their bugs to me on a number of occasions, but it seems like an occupational hazard. Still, I'm grateful for the Purell, even if it can't kill off everything to which I might be exposed.

Sermon for Sunday, January 15, 2012 I Cor 6:12-20 “It’s (Not) About Sex”

2012-01-15T05:13:00.000-05:00

We preachers are always looking for ways to get our parishioners’ attention. Funny stories, references to things going on in the news, pop culture, whatever it takes to get you to listen to the message we want to share with you.

When in doubt, we’ve always got a go-to thing that guarantees you all will listen.

Sex.

Preaching about sex always makes folks in the pews sit up and take notice. So today, I’m going to talk about sex.

I know what you’re thinking.

“What is she going to say? Should we make sure none of the children can hear this? Will I be embarrassed by what she says?”

And that’s just fine. I want you to pay attention. I know you’re going to pay attention when the subject is sex.

Now, I’m not unique in this. Preachers, as I said, can always rely on this topic to ensure that their parishioners will attend to their message.

The Apostle Paul, a good preacher to be sure, actually used the word “fornication” not once but three times in this brief passage from Corinthians. It’s clear he wanted to get the attention of the faithful in Corinth. But like all things in Holy Scripture, there’s more to this than meets the eye.

So what’s going on in this R-rated passage from the epistle, and what does it mean to us today?

Let’s start with location. Corinth was one of the churches that Paul founded. But as much as he loved them, as a pastor he was frustrated by their misbehavior, and this letter has a lot to do with trying to get them back on the right path. He was in the midst of giving them guidance on how to live the Christian life, after chiding them for tolerating a man living in sin with his father’s wife. And now he jumped in to this discussion about fornication.

Fornication – that’s a word we don’t use too often these days. What does he mean by “fornication?” Paul uses the Greek work “porneia,” which can be translated as fornication, but really is not just about the way we think of fornication, which is sexual congress outside of marriage, but also talks about using prostitutes, incest, relations with animals, relations with someone who is divorced, and metaphorically, the worship of idols. So it’s all the nasty things one can do with one’s private parts.

Now to the heart of the problem. Why was this fornication business a problem with the Corinthians?

The Corinthians had been fighting among themselves about the right way to follow Christ and about interpretations of what Christ and Paul taught. Even that close to when Jesus had been alive, folks were already getting it wrong. Here’s a partial list of what they were fighting about, according to scholar Frank Crouch:

“Various factions in the congregation label others as wise or foolish, weak or strong; fight over who was the best pastor before the current one; bring lawsuits against one another; argue over sexual morality, whether it's better to be married or single, what makes a healthy marriage, what constitutes grounds for divorce, what are appropriate dietary practices; what is the correct understanding of resurrection and the afterlife; and on and on.”

Of course, we never argue about such things, do we?

So all these arguments were been going on, and what was the key misunderstanding that they arrived at?

They had heard from Paul that Christ set them free from their sins. And they, being human and wanting what they want when they want it, thought, “Wow! I can do anything, misbehave in any way, because Christ has set me free from my sins.”

In other words, no accountability, since they were already forgiven.

So some of the Corinthians were getting all wild and crazy and doing things that they know were sinful, but they thought they’d get a free ride.

But Pastor Paul said, “Hey, wait a minute!”

He started out with their main argument: “All things are lawful for me.” It is probably more accurate to translate that phrase as “all things are allowed for me.” The Corinthians are thinking that this means “I am free to do whatever I want.” But Paul says they’ve missed the point. They may be free to do whatever they want, but those things may not be beneficial. He starts to talk about the gift of the body, that beautiful creation of God, and how our bodies are part of an even more beautiful body, the Body of Christ. He uses this recurrent problem of sexual misconduct among the Corinthians to point out that when they are involved in inappropriate sex, they are uniting the beautiful Body of Christ to the body of someone or something that is not of God. When they do what they please, thinking that Christ’s death has given them leave to do anything at all, they may have fleeting pleasure, but they are not giving God pleasure.

Here’s the heart of the matter: Christ does not set us free so that we can do whatever we want to do; Christ sets us free so that we can do whatever God wants us to do.

Yes, Christ has set us free from our sins. He has redeemed us. But the proper response to that free gift is not as much self-indulgence as we can manage, it is grateful service to the One who has given us the gift. It is not misusing our bodies in sexual misconduct, it is using our bodies in God’s service…and that also includes sex as the gift God intended, in a monogamous, faithful, committed relationship.

Rationally, we understand this. Practically, it can be easy for us to follow the same path that the Corinthians did. Do we say yes to temptations of all kinds – not just sexual ones, but things like overeating, drinking, smoking cigarettes, using illicit drugs? Do we then say “Oh, I was just weak, but Jesus loves me anyway?”

Yes, Jesus does love us. Jesus did die for our sins. But don’t we have an obligation to try to live as He would want us to live? Don’t we have an obligation to try to care for ourselves, for these members of the Body of Christ, as the gifts that we are?

For me, the battle to live as God would want us to live is not about sex. I’m happily married and feel no temptation to stray. Thanks be to God for that! But I am not immune to misusing my body, my part of the Body of Christ…I’ve got an ongoing battle with my weight, not because I want to look skinny, but because I want to be healthy in order to serve God.

Others of us have other ways in which we deny God by using our bodies in selfish ways. I’ve mentioned a few of them: smoking, using alcohol or drugs, sitting around all night watching silly television programs or playing video games rather than getting out and moving, rather than exercising our brains and bodies so we can serve God.

We must change. This is not about New Year’s Resolutions so we look cuter. This is about living in our bodies, which have been called “temples of the Holy Spirit.” This is about recognizing that we don’t get a free ride because we are Christians, we still have to work at living right.

Yes, Paul was talking about sex, and sex was an attention-getter back in his day as well as ours. Sex is one of the many ways that we can get confused about what God intends for us. But Paul was also talking about much more than sex. He was talking about the many gifts that God has given us. Gifts, like sex, like forgiveness, come with responsibilities. They are meant to be used as God intends.

We may all find different paths to understanding what God intends for us, how we are to use our gifts, but make no mistake, God does have plans for us. So now may we gratefully accept those gifts, all of them, and live into them, not as we choose, but as God has planned. That is how we are most truly and deeply part of the Body of Christ.

Amen.

Sermon for Sunday, Jan 8, 2012 (Early Service) Acts 19:1-7 “Extreme Makeover – Soul Edition”

2012-01-08T06:00:00.000-05:00

Anybody here ever watch “Extreme Makeover: Home Edition?” It’s on TV on Sunday nights. Here’s the premise of the series: some poor deserving family is nominated for help to replace their awful little home, and a team of professional builders and volunteers and designers take down that old home and replace it with something amazing, in only seven days. The family’s lives are transformed by giving them the home they need, and then some, and all who help out feel uplifted by the experience.

Transformation is powerful, and we who are followers of Christ do know a little about the transformation business. We also know that the starting point for most all of us is in baptism.

What kind of baptism did you have?

Were you a little baby when you were baptized, so the only memories you have of the experience are photos in a scrapbook or a baptismal certificate tucked into the family bible? Did you wear a fancy antique baptismal gown that was worn by five generations in your family and was the liturgy very formal in a Gothic cathedral? Were you a teenager who responded to an altar call and were dunked into the lake at Bible camp? Were you an adult, who perhaps had not been raised in a church or whose church did not believe in infant baptism, and you stepped into a pool in a megachurch, surrounded by a praise choir?

Baptisms come in all different kinds. They share some similarities, of course. There is always water, whether it is in a font or a baptismal pool or a riverside. There are always prayers invoking the power of the Trinity. There is always a focus on how the one being baptized in transformed, but the exterior trappings may be different.

Transformation: that’s the issue that the Apostle Paul was dealing with when he was visiting Ephesus. He heard that some of the Ephesians had been baptized by Apollos, a well-known evangelizer for Jesus. “Great!” Paul thought. Then he asked a few questions, and got concerned.

“Did you receive the Holy Spirit when you were baptized?” “Uhhh….What’s that?”

“The Holy Spirit. You’re supposed to have the Holy Spirit come upon you when you’re baptized.”

“Can’t say that we had any Holy-Spirit type thing when we were baptized. We did feel pretty clean afterwards, though. No more sin. That was sweet!”

You can imagine Paul sighing at this point and muttering under his breath, “Oh, Apollos, your heart was in the right place and all, but this is just not right.”

So Paul said to these Ephesians, “Tell me a little more about that baptism.”

“Well,” they said, “it was John’s baptism, of course. Apollos is a disciple of John, you know.”

“Ah,” Paul replied. “There’s the problem. Apollos baptized you as he was baptized by John. But John was not Jesus – he was the forerunner. He himself said ‘I baptize you with water for repentance, but there is one coming after me who will baptize you with fire and the Holy Spirit.’ John baptized with the baptism of repentance, but he also told the people to believe in the one who was to come after him, that is, in Jesus.”

Oops. Wrong baptism. So the Ephesians said, “Okay, let’s get baptized again, the right way. We are followers of Jesus.” And when Paul baptized them, they began to do all sorts of amazing things, including speaking in tongues and prophesying, all of which were signs that the Holy Spirit had indeed come upon them.

Here’s the opposite of what we talked about in the beginning of this sermon. Here the exterior trappings were the same, but the interior transformation was incomplete. It was as if the builders on Extreme Makeover simply slapped a pretty new exterior onto the old shack.

When I hear this story, I wonder if poor Apollos was just confused, if he thought John’s flavor of baptism was the same as Jesus.’ We know Apollos claimed to be a follower of Christ, although he seems to have never seen or heard Jesus.

He didn’t seem to understand that the way he was initiating new followers of Christ was not quite right – earlier in Acts, a couple of Paul’s friends, Priscilla and Aquila, had chastised him gently for not teaching accurately, and now he was once again off-track.

So was Apollos a bad guy? Was he a dishonest contractor who didn’t deliver the makeover he promised?

Probably not. He thought he was doing things the right way, and in fact, the way he baptized people looks like it was a lot like what we do. Dipping or sprinkling with water to wash away sins through the love of Christ. Sort of a power-wash for the soul. But Paul seems to be talking about something else, something so transformative that it isn’t just a power-wash, it’s an extreme makeover. People are radically transformed when this baptism occurs.

Does this mean that the way we are doing baptism now is incorrect? Are we doing things as Apollos did, or as Paul did? After all, it is unlikely that any of us began prophesying when we were baptized.

Well, wait a minute. When we speak of prophesying, what do we mean?

We hear that word, and we think it’s talking about predicting the future. But in the world of the evangelist Luke, who wrote Acts of the Apostles, prophesying is something very different – it’s about talking about the present. It is, as my seminary professor Ruthanna Hooke says, “to speak in God’s name on behalf of God’s work in the world.”

That’s not so odd: when you think of the ancient prophets of the Old Testament, they talk first and foremost about the way people are behaving in their time that is causing them to get into trouble. Yes, they talk about what will happen – consequences for their actions – but their primary focus is on naming what is going on in their generation and how it comports with God’s wishes.

It is about identifying the ways that we live, and the ways that we need to change, to transform, if we are to be in good relationship with our God.

So this gift of the spirit- prophesying – is not quite so rare as we think. We all know of folks who have that ability to do what we describe as “calling it as they see it.” The only difference between them and prophets is that those who prophesy couch their comments in terms of God’s wishes and God’s work and what we should do. If someone says, “we need to do something about those hungry people who beg for food, so let’s help out at Lamb’s Basket” that person is being prophet. If someone says, “we’re spending way too much on making ourselves looking good and nowhere near enough on helping others, so let’s start a program to help those in need,” that person is being a prophet.

If the only purpose of baptism was to cleanse us of our sins, that would be good, but it would not be enough. After all, we know that Jesus died on the Cross to redeem us from our sins. If baptism is only about our sinfulness, the sacrament is merely a remembrance of Christ’s loving act of redemption. But baptism is something more. It is about taking us, cleansed of our sins, reoriented toward a loving God, and lighting a fire in us to be prophets in that same sense that I described a few moments ago. It is about empowering us to speak and to act in response to the gift of redemption in a way that helps others who need our help.

It is an Extreme Makeover. Not a demolition of an old shack and a replacement with a fancy new home, but the demolition of a self-interested and easily distractable soul and its replacement with a soul on fire for Christ, on fire to transform the love that it feels from God into action to serve God and to help others.

Our baptisms are not simply an initiation, they are transformation. That is the gift that Paul is talking about. We are not just washed and polished up, we are changed into something new. What new thing will you be because of it?

Amen.

Sermon for Sunday, January 1, The Feast of the Holy Name – Luke 2:15-21 “What’s in a Name?”

2012-01-01T06:00:00.000-05:00

The children were in a furious battle in the backyard. I could hear them yelling at each other as I sat on the porch, trying to determine whether I could finish my cup of coffee or if I needed to insert myself. Then my four year old daughter said to her six year old brother, “You’re a doody-head and I hate you!”

In the moment, I didn’t know which was more disturbing, the nasty name or the expression of hatred. But over time, I’ve come to respect the importance of getting strong emotions out, and the power of names to shape who we are and what we will become. Names worry me more than an expression of negative emotion.

Fortunately, my son who was called that bad name did not, in fact, turn into a doody-head. He was and is a sweetheart. But a later name did stick, and have unfortunate results. A teacher called him dumb when he did badly at an assignment. It affected his attitude toward school for many years.

We think about it when we name our own children, don’t we? I doubt anyone here would name their child Qaddafi, or Adolph, or Idi Amin. We know that bearing the name of a dictator or a genocidal maniac would scar a child. It would affect how he or she saw themselves, as it would certainly affect teachers and parents of playmates. Who would want their child to play with little Qaddafi?

Names have power. They shape us, they identify us, they describe our purpose in life.

The ancient Israelites understood this. They gave names with meanings. Think of Nathaniel – gift from God. Think of Samuel – God has heard. Think of Micah – comfort. Think of Ezekiel – God will judge. Think of Job – his name means “oppressed.” Names have power to identify us, don’t they?

There is a reason why God had Adam name all the animals…if Adam was to have dominion over them, both power and responsibility, he had to have a sense of connection, a deep and abiding understanding of who or what they were and how they participated in the world. And so Adam named them, we are told, although I wonder how he came up with the name “platypus” or “wombat” or “yellow-bellied sapsucker.”

You will recall that in the Old Testament reading this morning, God instructs Aaron in how to bless the people, those famous words called the Aaronic blessing: The Lord bless you and keep you, the Lord make his face to shine upon you and be gracious to you; the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace….and why such words? Because, the Lord says, the words will put God’s name upon the Israelites. They will not simply be named Amos and Rebecca and Napthali, they will be named God’s people.

Names have power.

Jacob, that troublemaking twin, was given a name at birth that meant “heel holder,” because when he and his twin Esau were born, Jacob was holding Esau’s heel. It was a name that represented the endless battle between these two twins, Jacob always trying to get the better of Esau, tricking him out of his inheritance and such. But when Jacob was an adult, finally realizing how badly he had behaved and struggling to figure out how to make things right, God renamed him. And what was his new name? Israel. Israel, the name that means “God prevails.” Jacob, now Israel, the father of twelve sons whose offspring would form the twelve tribes of Israel, the great nation of Israel out of which Jesus was born.

A name that transformed Jacob from a merely troublesome trickster into a father of nations.

Names have power to make us or break us.

And so we come to today’s gospel.

It begins with a story we’ve already heard, the story of the shepherds hearing about the birth of the baby from the angel and going to visit him. And them the shepherds go back into town and tell everyone what has happened to them. Yes, we know this part of the story.

And then we hear something we haven’t heard before: the time comes for the baby’s circumcision and naming ceremony. It is eight days after the baby’s birth. Why eight days? Why not wait until the child is old enough to decide for himself? Why not do it sooner? Some have speculated that this is because infant mortality was so high in those days, most often in the first week, so they wanted to be sure the baby would survive that first week. But a more beautiful and theologically rich explanation is offered by Rabbi Yisroel Cottar: “We are born Jews. It is not a project we rationally decide to undertake. Our covenant with G‑d is super-rational. It does not go away in moments when our minds tell us otherwise. We do not always comprehend the reasons behind the [commandments]. [According to the mystical writings, the] number seven represents nature and that which is finite. Seven days in the week, seven days of creation, and seven human faculties. Eight represents the super-rational and the infinite. The miraculous as opposed to natural. Belief as opposed to comprehension. And so, a baby is given is [circumcision] on the eighth day. He is entering a religion founded upon faith, whose survival is miraculous, and whose potential in the world is infinite.”

And with the circumcision comes the naming for this newborn boy. And once again, we see the power of a name.

What name is this child given? Jesus, Yeshua, which means Salvation. Talk about a powerful name! And it was not a name that the parents picked out as we do for our own children, it is a name hand-delivered by the angel Gabriel (a name which means “God is my strength”). It is God who does the naming, not Mary and Joseph, because God knows this baby’s purpose in a troubled world.

By naming the child in this traditionally Jewish ritual, God and the child’s earthly parents affirm what this child is meant to do. He will be the salvation of the world, although in this moment Mary and Joseph may not know how this will play out.

Names have power to identify, to and even to show what the future holds, if only in the simplest of terms.

So Jesus is circumcised, as all Jewish boy babies are circumcised on the eighth day following their births, following the tradition of the circumcision of Isaac. And he is given a name that reminds his parents and all who meet him what and who he is…salvation. But before he is even given this particular name, he carries another, that one that was given when Aaron was taught that blessing…he is a part of the people of God. A special part, to be sure, as God’s only Son, but still a part of the people of God.

And this is what we take from this talk of names. They are powerful. They shape us. Our name as God blessed us as his people in Aaron’s time still gives us a sense of beloved belonging to the one who created us. And one particular name gives us hope, the name of Jesus, who is salvation.

Our names these days may not carry as much power as in ancient times. We don’t always remember that “Douglas” means “black water,” or “Sandra” means “defending men.” We might not know that “Frederick” means “peaceful ruler” or “Bertha” means “bright.”

But we do know one thing: the One who was named “Salvation” has indeed done that. His name has the power to identify who and what he is. We are the beneficiaries of his name and his life and his death, because we have already been named, each and every one of us, as beloved members of the people of the God who created us. Our lives have been shaped by our own names and the names bestowed upon us by God, but especially by the one who was named by God himself, as God’s own son, our salvation.

Names do have power to teach, to show and to shape. All we have to do is hear the name of Jesus, that name “salvation,” and we are transformed once again by the holy name and the holy One who bore it.

Amen.

Why I Love My Work

2011-12-25T16:13:00.003-05:00

This afternoon I went to bring the Sacrament to our oldest parishioner, who celebrated his 105th birthday this past summer. In recent months, he has been unable to come to church on Sundays. In the past he came every Sunday and insisted on coming up to the altar rail, but now he is too shaky on his pins to do it. So I came to him.

It's a challenge to visit with him, because he is terribly deaf. He can only hear if you lean in and yell into his good (not very good, indeed) ear. But one must observe the social niceties of preliminary conversation before the administration of communion.

He looked up and smiled as I walked in. Ever the gentleman, he said "Thanks for coming!" I replied, "It's my pleasure."

With a twinkle in his eye, he said "It must not take much to please you." The ears and legs may not work very well, but the gray matter is fully functional indeed.

Blessings and Merry Christmas, Mr Mac.

Sermon for Christmas Day 2011 John 1:1-14 “Word”

2011-12-25T10:00:00.000-05:00

We have heard the story of the birth of Jesus over these past weeks in incredible detail. We’ve heard of a long journey under less-than-ideal conditions, of stars and angels and shepherds. We’ve remembered the birth of the child in a stable. What more is there to say?

Word.

This is what John has to say. The start of his gospel doesn’t tell a history. It doesn’t talk about the baby, or the stable, or the angels singing on high.

No. It focuses on one thing: word. What are we supposed to do with that?

A few years ago, it became popular among the teens and young adult to say “word.” The Urban Dictionary says this usage means “Well said,” or “I am in agreement.”

If you said to your friend, “That dress that Janie is wearing is a horrible color for her,” your friend might respond, “Word!” It’s true, that dress is wayyy too bright against her pale skin. Word!

Well, John’s use of the word “Word” is not too far from that understanding.

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God.”

In other words, our starting point is God and the Word that is the expression of God.

A little difficult to understand, right? Word!

But imagine, if you will, God not as the old guy with the white robe and the long white beard – not Santa Claus, but God the Creator – but God as something like a formless, bodiless energy. God as free-floating wisdom. God as Word. God as affirmation of all that is good, all that is creative, all that is alive. Word!

That Word was always there, a beautiful powerful divine energy. That energy caused the world to be created – “all things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being.” This Word, this creative energy, did his work, and all was created, and all was light and life.

But how could we poor human beings understand something like this? How could we grasp something as ethereal, as incorporeal, as not concrete as this God-Who-Is-Word? There is no picture that can portray God-Who-Is-Word.

And so God-Who-Is-Word had an idea – he was, after all, essentially all idea, so this is no surprise. God-Who-Is-Word decided we human beings needed a way to understand how magnificently loving and caring God-Who-Is-Word truly is. So he decided to send himself to earth as God-Who-Is-Word, but also God who is Human. He sent his son, a human being like us, but also God-Who-Is-Word like him.

Perhaps this God-Who-Is-Word in human form could help us understand the marvel of God-Who-Is-Word in the heavenly realm.

If the three other Gospels – Matthew, Mark and Luke – are about telling Jesus’ story as a human baby born to a human woman in a difficult world, this gospel, this Gospel of John, is about telling Jesus’ story as a divine being come down from heaven. It is about where and why Jesus came from. Yes, Jesus was human, but before he was human, he was part of the Godhead, and he was part of it always, for eternity.

And the beautiful thing is that Jesus is not only God come to earth, he is also the representation of God-Who-Is-Word continuing to exercise that creative energy. God-Who-Is-Word created the earth, but when Jesus comes, he re-creates the world with a new life, a new energy. He is not simply a representative sent to help us understand who God-Who-Is-Word is, he is himself God-Who-Is-Word in human flesh, and he continues that work of creation by transforming us, redeeming us.

But what happens? John foreshadows the whole of Jesus’ story by telling us that “he was in the world, and the world came into bring through him yet the world did not know him.”

How could they know him, if they would turn away from him and cause his death?

But not all turned away. Some accepted him and his teachings. Some heard him and said “Word!” They came to know the God-Who-Is-Word, and became children of God-Who-Is-Word.

And the result of the presence of Jesus, that little baby that we have sung about, that creative man who was the only son of God-Who-Is-Word, was the best thing: glory.

Because of this Son of God-Who-Is-Word, John tells us “we have seen his glory, full of grace and truth.”

Words have power. The young peoples’ use of the exclamation “Word!” reminds us that there is nothing that carries so much power, so much creative energy. Words are full of possibilities. Jesus, who is the Word, opens our minds and hearts to the infinite possibilities of our lives and of what can happen through God-Who-Is-Word.

So today, on this day when we open gifts that we offer each other, we are reminded to remember that the most valuable gifts came to us not last night, not this morning, but over two thousand years ago. A baby, not gift-wrapped but aglow with that energy that is the Word made flesh. This is the gift, the Word made flesh who dwells among us, and we are surrounded by his glory. Word!

Amen.

Sermon for Christmas Eve, 2011 10:30 Service Luke 2:1-14 “Home”

2011-12-24T22:30:00.000-05:00

We think of Christmas as a time when family members come home. If you’ve got college-age kids away at school, they come home. Grandparents invite everyone to their house for a traditional feast, with that great mac and cheese casserole or the pumpkin pie that is better than anything you could buy at a bakery. Friends gather other friends around them, cherishing a feeling of homespun love and appreciation. This is the time when we all come home, even if our homecoming is just in our dreams, as the old song says.

But that first Christmas was a very different story. Each of the people in this story was not in the comfort of their own home…they were away from the familiar warmth and comfort that we seek in our own holiday celebrations.

Think of Mary and Joseph. On the road, despite her bulk with a baby due any moment. Traveling because the government required it, and as far from home as they had ever been. If you’ve ever seen a pregnant couple stressed out and exhausted by holiday travel in the airport, take that image, multiply it by ten, and you’ve got a sense of how Mary and Joseph probably were feeling when they arrived in downtown Bethlehem.

Think of shepherds, who spent much of their lives away from home herding sheep up on the hillside outside of town. They were not exactly the highest-class people in Bethlehem…shepherds were considered outcasts of a sort, because they were smelly and dirty from tending the sheep outdoors most of the time. And it was wintertime, and even in the Middle East it gets cold at night in the wintertime.

Think of the angels. They were not up in heaven, where things are always pretty and peaceful. They weren’t enjoying a quiet evening sitting around the divine throne. No, they were flying around on a cold winter’s night, talking to a bunch of smelly shepherds.

I know this one is the hardest to imagine, but think of Jesus. One moment he’s with his Heavenly Father in, well, in heaven. He’s perfectly comfortable because heaven is, after all, perfect. Then all of a sudden he is a squalling human baby in a cold and ripe-smelling stable, surrounded by a group of folks he’s never met before, and who don’t seem to understand what he is trying to say to them, namely, that he has this strange craving for some milk.

Each of these players in the divine drama is away from home. Each one is in unfamiliar territory, lacking the comforts of their homes, lacking the family around them that would make their difficulties seem manageable.

And yet, something happens.

Something happens, and they manage to create a home. In spite of what they don’t have, they celebrate what they do have.

Mary and Joseph might have expected that their new baby would be born in their own home, with Mary’s mother and cousins helping her with this first childbirth. Joseph might have visualized standing outside the house, waiting for word of the birth, sharing a skin of wine with his friends. But here they are, in this stable, with the wind whistling through the cracks, with animals – animals! – around them. No women to help Mary as she labored. No men to laugh and slap him on his back after the good news. Just the two of them, plus a cow and a donkey and such, breathing their sweet warm breath, and the sharp shine of stars overhead. And somehow, Mary and Joseph, and soon the little baby, make this stable into home. It is home as they watch their newborn, wrapped warmly in swaddling clothes, and they realize they are not just a couple anymore, they are a family, and wherever the family is, is home.

The shepherds, expecting that this would be another cold night on the hillside with meager food, gather close around a small fire to stay warm. They may be away from their families as they herd the sheep and await the birth of new lambs, but, by the heavens, they can make themselves a decent meal and share stories and laughter. A little home away from home, not as good as a warm bed, but it will do. But then they hear this strange and wondrous news from the angels…angels who should be grumbling at being away from heaven in the middle of the night, but who take their mission as God’s messengers seriously and tell these bedraggled shepherds a revolutionary piece of news. And in that moment, the angels and the shepherds are joined together by God’s news, and there is between them a home of sorts, a home and a family of those who have experienced the unimaginable.

The shepherds, shocked by what they have heard, go travel to that new home in the stable, and they become part of the family, too, sitting quietly, basking in the warmth of the Holy Family’s love, in the glow of the infant’s holiness.

And Jesus, a tiny baby, knows that he is where he is meant to be, where the world needs him to be. He is the hope of a troubled world, a world that makes a pregnant mother and her husband travel a long distance near her due date for a tax enrollment, a world that makes shepherds into outcasts, a world that makes a rude stable the only place available for a stranded family.

They are all home. Not the homes that they expected or planned for, but the homes that they need to inhabit. A home of their own creation, of God’s creation.

We think sometimes that the only good Christmas is the one in which the whole family gets together at grandma’s house, eating the familiar foods, singing the same songs, telling the stories we’ve told a thousand times before.

But perhaps the story we hear tonight is that home and family are what we make, with God’s help. Home is the place where we feel God’s peace. Family is the people who teach us Christ’s love. Christmas is the day when we remember what we are called to do in this broken world, to lend a hand to that pregnant family with the flat tire at the rest stop, to offer a dinner invitation to the person who has no place to go on this day, to tell a funny story to someone who feels blue or a shared memory to someone who is grieving.

If we learn nothing else from this story of people away from their homes, ordinary people who became part of an extraordinary story, we should learn that our truest home is not a place, it is in Christ. Our truest family is not those with whom we simply have a biological connection, it is with those in whom we can see Christ, and who can see Christ in us. This is the gift of this story, the one that frees us from the expectations of a confused world. It is about Christ. It was always about Christ. It will always be about Christ. Where Christ is, that is Christmas. That is family. That is home.

Merry Christmas, and welcome home.

Amen.

Our Church...

2011-12-24T18:27:00.002-05:00

Sermon for Christmas Eve 4 pm Service Luke 2:1-14 “Birthday Boy”

2011-12-24T16:00:00.000-05:00

What night is this? What do we celebrate this night?

Whose birthday is it?

Yes, it’s Jesus’ birthday that we celebrate. Each year, on this night, we remember the birth of baby Jesus in that manger. We remember the star in the sky, and the angels singing, and the shepherds coming down from the hillside where they were with their sheep to see the remarkable thing that the angels told them about…a newborn Savior who would help all the people.

It’s like the angels invited those shepherds to a birthday party for baby Jesus, isn’t it?

Now, how many of you have had a birthday party this year?

And what happened at that birthday party? You played games, and ate a delicious birthday cake, and you got lots of presents. It was a lot of fun, wasn’t it? What was your favorite gift this past year?

We all love birthday parties, not least of all because we get presents.

So now we’re celebrating a birthday…but what happens tonight when you go to sleep?

Santa comes and brings you presents.

But wait a minute…it’s not YOUR birthday, is it?

It’s Jesus’ birthday. So how come we get the gifts? Shouldn’t baby Jesus get the gifts? Did we forget whose birthday it is?

I’m confused. So I need you to help me figure it out.

So here’s a question for you: why do you get a gift? Maybe it’s something you want, and you’ve been talking about it for a while. But do you think we get a gift because someone loves us and cares about us, and wants to give us something special to show that love?

And you will be getting gifts tonight, aren’t you? Santa will bring things because Santa loves you, and you may also get presents from other people who love you and want you to enjoy something fun. All gifts come to us because someone loves us and wants us to be happy.

But you are also getting another gift, this night and every Christmas, something that’s more important than a Wii game or an American Girl doll. What’s that gift?

It’s Jesus! That little baby, born over 2000 years ago, is the best gift ever. What did the angel said to the shepherds on that hillside: “I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people, all the sad people, all the people who are poor, all the people who are without a job, all the people who are away from home serving in the armed forces, all the people who don’t have a home of their own. Here is why you should celebrate: this evening a baby was born, and he is a very special baby. He will be a Savior, an anointed one who will help all those who are suffering. You won’t find him in a great big palace, as you would expect for a King. No, you’ll find him in a stable, wrapped up to keep him nice and warm and snug, with animals around him to help him stay warm.”

And all of a sudden there were lots of angels singing, and of course the shepherds had to go check out this baby who was to be Lord of all.

And the shepherds went down to see him, and sure enough it was a tiny little baby in a stable. He didn’t really look like any other baby – no, there was a glow around him that made them feel like this was something extra special. The moment they saw him, they loved him, and they didn’t notice the cold of the night because they felt the warmth of his love coming right back at them! It was like he was a gift for them, spreading all that love to them.

Did those shepherds bring any presents to baby Jesus? It was his birth day, after all. But they didn’t have a place to make a birthday cake, and no stores were open that late at night.

What present could they bring him? Maybe some soft wool from one of the little lambs to keep the baby warm. Maybe a little cheese made from the milk of one of the sheep, even though Jesus was too little to eat cheese yet.

But I know one thing for certain.

Those shepherds brought Jesus their own love, and their belief in what the angel had said. They came to worship him, because they knew that he was God’s greatest gift to a troubled world.

So what would you like to give to Jesus as a birthday present?

How about being a good boy or girl? How about listening when mom or dad asks you to do something? How about saying a prayer every night before you go to bed, talking to Jesus about your day? How about being nice to someone who is sad? How about sharing your Christmas toys with your brother or sister?

Gifts don’t always come in boxes with colored paper and ribbons. Sometimes they are doing things that mean more than a toy. So this night, even while we’re all excited about the gifts that will be under the tree tomorrow morning, let’s think about gifts we can give the birthday boy, baby Jesus. The gifts that we give him don’t cost money. They are way more valuable than that. He is the best give to us, and he deserves our most wonderful gifts of love and caring and sharing in return.

Amen.

Busy-ness Abounds

2011-12-21T11:35:00.002-05:00

It's Wednesday, right?

Last night was our Blue Christmas Service, a time of quiet prayer, meditation, scripture, music, and candlelight for those for whom the season is one of remembered pain or loss rather than jollity. I was glad that we had attendees from the parish and several from outside the parish. Glad to be a resource.

This morning I did a mentoring session with two of our Sudanese parishioners who are participating in a lay leadership program for Sudanese Christians...we are wending our way through the OT prophets. I love these two people and I love the OT prophets, but putting the two things together is not always easy. My brain hurts, but they are so sweet and appreciative.

In 20 minutes, we will have our noon Celtic Eucharist with Laying on of Hands and Healing Prayer. It is the prefect antidote to "Holly Jolly Christmas" and "Rudolph." We have a faithful band of ten people who are almost always there, plus others who are occasional attenders. It is so sweet to have such an intimate service. Some of these folks cannot attend Sunday morning services, for a variety of physical or emotional reasons, and they are so tender to each other.

Christmas prep continues, from the three sermons I am preaching on Saturday and Sunday to finishing knitting a couple of gifts. My hands have been particularly achy (appointment with the rheumatologist in a month) so it's not gone as quickly as I'd like, but the gifts will get done.

In any case, parties that we will host are over, the house is relatively clean in case of any drop-ins, and the Worship team has everything else lined up. Our dear S--- clan will decorate the church with poinsettias and trees, the bulletins have been prepared and are being printed, and relatives of parishioners are heading into town for the feast.

Come, Lord Jesus, come! We're ready for you!

Sermon for Sunday, December 18, 2011 Advent IV Luke 1:26-38, 46-55 “Say Yes”

2011-12-18T06:00:00.000-05:00

One of the most remarkable parts of the story of Jesus’ birth is often overlooked. In today’s Gospel, it nearly slips past us.

Oh, it’s very familiar, this story. Our children told it to us last week in the pageant. Mary is puttering around the house, tending to the chores that her mother has asked her to complete. She’s daydreaming about her forthcoming wedding, to Joseph. He is a little older than she is, but that’s alright. She has never much liked the boys her own age – too involved in proving themselves, showing off, getting into trouble playing silly pranks. No, she is happy that Joseph is her betrothed. He’s solid, quiet. He has a good business as a carpenter. He will provide well for her and for any children they might have.

Suddenly she senses someone or something in the room with her. Is it a small animal that has wandered in? Is it her mother? But when she turns to look, she sees that this is not what she expected. An angel – how could it be anything else, with those piercing eyes and powerful wings? – stands there. Mary should be frightened, but she realizes that this is someone who cares for her. His glance is calm and strong but loving. And he has a message for her, a message from God:

“Hello, there, Mary. You are special to God, and you need to know that God is with you.”

Mary is confused now. What does this mean? The angel seems to understand that, so he explains:

“Don’t be afraid. God loves you and has a plan for you. You will have a child, conceived through the Holy Spirit. You’ll name him Jesus, and he will be God’s Son, a true descendant of David. All God promised to David will be fulfilled in this child.”

Well, the angel’s words only make Mary more confused. “I can’t be pregnant. I haven’t been with any man. I know how it works, and you need to be with a man to have a baby.”

The angel smiles softly. “It isn’t a man who will make you pregnant. It’s God. God will send his Holy Spirit into you and you will bear God’s very own son. And just in case you don’t believe that God can make anything possible, hear this: your cousin Elizabeth, who has been unable to have a child for her whole life and who is now quite old, is going to have a child. God makes the impossible happen.”

All the color drains from Mary’s face as she starts to realize that this is real. And then slowly, her cheeks turn pink and she smiles. And she answers, “Yes, I am God’s servant. I will do this thing.”

And that last sentence, that last statement by Mary, that’s the remarkable thing I want us to think about today. Mary makes a choice.

Yes, the angel comes with word of what God has planned.

But she understands that she has the right to say no. She has a choice.

And this untutored teenage girl from Nazareth makes that choice, and says “Yes.”

“Yes” to God and this plan to bear a child by supernatural means, a child who is not Joseph’s but God’s, a pregnancy that will undoubtedly cause the gossips in town to wag their tongues.

“Yes” to a situation that is unprecedented, to things that she cannot imagine, a future unlike what she and Joseph had anticipated.

All because this girl has made a choice.

She has said “yes” to God’s plan. The writer Madeleine L’Engle wrote about Mary’s decision in sharp words:

This is the irrational season

When love blooms bright and wild.

Had Mary been filled with reason

There'd have been no room for the child.

And she responds to this surprising visit from the angel, with his proposal from God and her affirmation, by singing a song, the Canticle we recited this morning in place of the psalm. This song is called the Magnificat, and seems to reinforce just how irrational Mary’s choice is.

My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord, my spirit rejoices in God my Savior; for he has looked with favor on his lowly servant. From this day all generations will call me blessed: the Almighty has done great things for me, and holy is his Name.

Mary is celebrating, is amazing and grateful that God has chosen her to do this thing. She sounds a bit proud, doesn’t she, with her comment that “all generations will call me blessed.”

She goes on to celebrate all that God has done for God’s people. Amazing that she would say that: isn’t life hard for God’s people, under Roman rule? But she names God’s goodness, and God’s faithfulness in the divine promises. She understands that this thing that is happening to her, this thing to which she has consented, is fulfillment of that promise.

But in her youth, her inexperience, she does not know how it will change her, how it will break her heart even as it causes her to rejoice. All she knows, poor girl, is that God has chosen her for something unimaginable, and she is grateful.

It is an irrational choice, as L’Engle says, but what a beautiful one!

It isn’t just Mary who is given choices by God, though. Each of us is given such choices. Isn’t that the whole point of being given the gift of free will by our Creator? Aren’t we all given brains and hearts to evaluate and decide if we will do something or not, whether that something is a good thing or a bad thing?

But do we face those choices squarely, and make our decision, as Mary did when Gabriel showed up in her house? Or do we simply let circumstances play out as they will, stuck in our fears or immobilized by confusion, thus missing the opportunity to make a life-changing, world-changing choice offered to us by God?

Make no mistake, God has plans for each of us, just as God did for Mary. And that leaves us with a responsibility. When we sense that God has in mind for us, do we assent or do we say no? Do we worry that it isn’t really God, that little voice in our heart, that it’s just too much eggnog? Do we fear that we’ll make the wrong choice, so it’s safer just to do nothing? Do we think “nah, God wouldn’t want me to do this important thing?”

And yet who was it to whom God sent the angel? Not a queen, not a prophetess. Just a poor Jewish girl with little education and even less resources, engaged to a carpenter in a little town in the Galilee.

And when God sent that angel, Mary didn’t say “well, gee, there must be some mistake. I’m not important enough to do this thing. Gabriel must have knocked on the wrong door.”

No. She said yes. She said “my spirit rejoices in God my Savior; for he has looked with favor on his lowly servant.” She knew that God can do unbelievable things, just as he had done for her cousin Elizabeth, and God was doing it once again, through her. Even her, little Mary.

God can do unbelievable things through us. Even us, here in this church in Virginia in 2011. God has a plan for you. It is time to be brave as Mary. Are you irrational enough to assent?

It’s your choice. Why not say yes? Amen.

Monday, Busy Monday

2011-12-12T13:16:00.003-05:00

I've spent part of this morning preparing for our Vestry meeting, which mostly involves gathering up bits of paper with reminders to myself of things we need to cover.

It's been a busy weekend, starting last Friday with a drive up to Charm City to see the newborn baby of a parishioner; the baby is a beautiful boy named Barack. It was a longer drive than anticipated, and I was grateful for the company of a parishioner who kept me laughing all through the traffic jams. I got back in time to go a Christmas gathering of one of our Episcopal Church Women chapters.

On Saturday I participated in the ordination of a friend. Her journey to ministry was a long one, and it was good to see that she is now ready to use her gifts in priestly ministry. I was honored to be one of her presenters. Then PH and I hopped in the car and drove up to Your Nation's Capital to go on a tour of the White House, all magnificently decorated for the season. Two Christmas trees were particularly moving - one honoring Gold Star families (families of military who have died in combat) and another with many military medals hung on it. There was also a station where one could write a postcard to someone in the Armed Forces sending Christmas greetings. A sad reminder that our military folk are still in harm's way. May they be safe this season, and may there be peace soon. The decor was splendid in the WH, with a number of different renditions of Bo, the Obama family dog, and one of the most impressive gingerbread mansions I've ever seen - a rendition of the White House, covered in royal icing so it was truly white. Remarkable. After a good dinner with PH's brother (who works for the WH, thus the tickets to the tour) and sister-in-law, we got home in time to get a reasonable night's sleep.

Sunday was the Children's Pageant/Lessons and Carols/Eucharist mash-up. It was a different script than what we had used in the past, and it had a couple of less than smooth moments, but the children were wonderful and the music was great. Throughout Advent, the Bell Choir has been chiming us in for the processional, followed by the lighting of the Advent Wreath. It creates an exquisitely meditative moment at the start of the service as they play "O Come, O Come, Emmanuel." They did it at this service as well, plus doing "Still, Still, Still" in the pageant. The Chancel Choir sang "Virgin Meek and Mild," our resident flutist played "What Child is This" and I sang "Rejoice Greatly" from Handel's Messiah. The congregation got to sing lots of their favorites, including "We Three Kings" with solos from PH and two of his colleagues in the choir.

All in all, a good morning, followed by our annual soup and bread lunch. Later that evening, another ECW chapter had their meeting and Christmas bash...much laughter and great plans for the year to come.

This morning we had the final session of our Monday book group for the year, finishing up Kate Braestrup's "Marriage and Other Acts of Charity." We are still pondering what our next book will be: I've given them a list of fiction and nonfiction options ranging from Graham Greene to Katharine Jefforts Schori. Such a great group of women in this group, and we even discuss the books in between our tangents!

This will be another busy week, with vestry meeting, other meetings, a number of pastoral calls, and a little fun in the midst. I am finishing up knitting one last Christmas present, and am otherwise as ready as I am going to be for the Christmas excitement. We've got a bunch of folks coming over for a party Sunday night, so I'll be doing midnight baking this week.

Color me grateful for so many things!

Sermon for Sunday, December 11, 2011 Early Service Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11

2011-12-12T13:04:00.000-05:00

This third Sunday of Advent is called “Gaudete Sunday” or “Rejoicing Sunday.” This is indeed a day of rejoicing. Christmas is coming, the day we celebrate the birth of God’s son. We can feel how close it is now…a few weeks ago, it seemed further away, but now it is waiting in the wings. Only two weeks until the glorious day, Christmas Day.

Our children and grandchildren think of that day as a time of presents. They can’t wait for that early morning wake-up and the delightful chaos of unwrapping what Santa has brought them. Our Christmas morning may be a little different. In fact, at each stage of our lives, our sense of what is a gift evolves.

In our teens, we care less about what the gift is than we care about who gives it. Yes, teenagers want stuff. That is a given. But that guitar from Grandma isn’t as exciting to a teen as a strange book from the girlfriend who is his first love. The guitar may be one of the most exquisite, expensive things that the Music Store has to offer, but the aroma of romance that scents that fifteen buck book – that’s magical.

In our twenties, the gift that we seek may be that engagement ring, or that word “Yes!” from the one to whom we will give that ring. It might be news that we have gotten that job we really wanted, the one that will be the next step in a bright career.

In our thirties, the gift may be the expressions on the faces of our little children as they rip open the presents under the tree at 6:30 am on Christmas morning, or it may be your spouse letting you go back to bed while she wrangles the kids after the present opening.

Yes, our sense of gift evolves.

It continues to change as we pass forty and fifty. Perhaps now the gift we seek is calm, or it may be a gathering of family from the various places they are scattered. It may be the sense that life is settling down, and it is a blessed relief after difficult times.

And the years pass, and once again the thing we seek changes.

Suddenly, the best give we can receive is time, time that now seems to be slipping away from us faster and faster.

And the knowledge that we have made it to another Christmas becomes the gift itself. Another Christmas when we can be with those we love. Another Christmas to do something for someone else. Another Christmas to celebrate, and to rejoice. Time is precious. Another Christmas is precious.

Here we stand, on this Sunday when we are to encouraged to rejoice. What shall we rejoice about?

It may be as simple as this: we have survived. We may not have thought of that twenty years ago, but now it is very real.

Neither illness nor a misdirected GRTC bus has brought us to our end. We will celebrate another Christmas, and that’s something to rejoice over.

I don’t mean to be morbid, but if we truly believe that each day is a gift from God, as we get older, we realize just what a powerful gift that is. We nervously joke about it: “better on top of the grass than underneath it,” but in our hearts we are thinking about our own mortality and the gift of life that God bestows on us.

This may be the truest gift of the season. Not those sweaters and ties wrapped and placed under the Christmas tree, but the awareness that our lives, every day of them, are gifts from God. They are precious and sweet, even on those days when we don’t feel 100% or when we worry that we aren’t particularly useful to anybody. Each day is another day to thank God for what we are given.

This is not to say that we should ignore the difficult bits. They are a fact of our lives, just as our less-than-sharp vision and crow’s feet are facts of our lives…although perhaps the gift is that we can no longer see those crow’s feet quite as clearly.

But we rejoice, even with the challenges that the passing of time has brought. We rejoice, in a deeper and sweeter way than we could have a few decades ago, because we know the value of what has been given to us, and we know from whence it came.

So we make a choice to rejoice. As Isaiah prophesied, we wear a garland rather than ashes. We are anointed with the oil of gladness rather than that of mourning. We sing as Isaiah sang:” I will greatly rejoice in the LORD, my whole being shall exult in my God; for he has clothed me with the garments of salvation, he has covered me with the robe of righteousness.”

Why do we rejoice? Not because of gifts under the tree, but because of the ultimate gift. There is someone coming, someone who will bring us the greatest of gifts. We don’t need another tie or box of cookies. We don’t need another paperweight. What we need is what Jesus brings: the garments of salvation.

We do not know the time allotted to us. It may be decades. It may be a day. It doesn’t really matter. We still can rejoice, because the gift that is brought to us on Christmas Day is timeless. We can rejoice, because Jesus was born, and because he has redeemed us from our sins. We can rejoice no matter how our joints ache and our hearing dims. We can rejoice in spite of the difficulties and because of the sweetness. We are redeemed.

And that is something that lasts longer than a Christmas morning – it is for eternity.

Amen.

Oh, no...

2011-12-08T14:49:00.002-05:00

...shootings at Virginia Tech. Two people dead thus far, and the shooter is still at large. Praying for all the folks involved in any way.

Dear Lord, protect your children at Virginia Tech. Bring the perpetrator of this crime to an understanding that violence is not the answer, and guide him to drop his weapons and turn himself in. Give comfort ot the families of those who have died, and care for the parents and friends who cannot reach their Tech students and are terribly afraid. Help the public safety officials who are onsite - keep them safe and calm in their work.We ask all this in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen.

Sermon for Advent II, Sunday December 4, 2011 Mark 1:1-8 “Step Into the Water”

2011-12-04T19:15:00.001-05:00

Prophets are rarely attractive, gently spoken people. They are usually loud, strange, annoying, odd people. We get a glimpse of that when we hear of John the Baptist’s ranting on the banks of the Jordan. John wore strange clothes – an animal skin, a strap of leather holding it to his body – and his diet was even stranger: locusts and honey. No doubt he smelled bad, living as he did in the wilderness. And his proclamations were wild, and I’ll bet he was pretty wild as well. Ancient Orthodox icons of John show him with dreadlocks and dirty, rough hands.

Why would anyone want to pay attention to a man who looked like that?

One reason might be that the people were hungry for some proclamation. As I shared with you last week, the people of Israel were sorely oppressed. Life was hard and there was no end in sight. They were in dire need of the very thing that Isaiah talks about in this morning’s reading from the Old testament: “Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her

that she has served her term, that her penalty is paid, that she has received from the LORD's hand double for all her sins.”

God’s people, hungry for relief from oppression, looking for something or someone that would give them relief.

So what did God send them? This man John, who looked and spoke and smelled like the person you don’t want to sit next to on the bus. No one would mistake him for a divine messenger if they used the usual methods of evaluating people. But these were unusual times, so an unusual messenger might be just what was needed to get people’s attention.

And get their attention he certainly did. People flocked from all around to hear what he had to say, to be baptized by him in the Jordan.

They were hungry for what he offered them, even if they didn’t completely understand it. If they hadn’t been hurting so badly, so tired, so despairing, they mightn’t have come out to hear him, but perhaps this strange man had something to help them, to give them hope again.

Wasn’t he just like the old prophets had foretold? Wasn’t he “the voice of one crying out in the wilderness: Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight!”

Perhaps it takes a smelly, odd, screaming man to get the word out: “fix things up here, get ready, prepare the way of the Lord.” Perhaps it takes a people who are so hungry for something to relieve their pain that they will accept the message from a more than a little frightening prophet.

Think about it.

Would we listen to him? Would we allow such a man to escort us into the river, to press our heads down into the brown and swirling waters, pray over us? My guess is probably not. Our needs, as real as they seem, as harsh as they are, have not made us desperate enough to take that risk.

But let’s imagine for the moment that our desire for relief from that which oppresses us gives us the ability to overcome our distaste for this odd man and his strange ways. Let’s imagine what it felt like.

We have come to the riverside to hear this man. We’ve heard of him back in town. People say he’s crazy, or they say he’s a weird follower of God, or they say that his message is powerful and they feel changed when they hear him. We are intrigued, so we go to check it out for ourselves.

We wander out to the riverside, outside of town. There he is. He’s just as strange as our friends have told us. His eyes glow with a strange fire, and his words fill us with that glow. People are walking into the river where he stands, and he pours the water over their heads, praying over them. They are weeping, confessing all their wrongdoings. But when they come up from the water, they seem to have the same glow as he does.

So we step forward. We think of all the times we have felt alone and broken. All the times we have wished for something, anything, more than this hard life of work and taxes and worry and hurt. All the times we wanted some comfort for all that ails us. All the tiems we asked God, “Where are you in the midst of this? Will you help me?”

And now we are standing at the edge of the water. He turns toward us, sensing our hesitation, and extends his hand. It is hard, calloused, but clean from all that time in the river water. We take it, and he sees what we are thinking. He wants to clarify what he is doing here, so we have no confusion in our hearts: “I know what you are looking for. I am not that one. There is another one coming who is so powerful that I am not worthy to tie his sandals. I’m here to prepare you. I will wash you in these waters to wash away your sins, but he will wash your spirit with his spirit, his holy spirit, and you will be forever cleansed.” And as we think about these words, we are suddenly pressed down into the water. We should be afraid, but we are not. The warm water swirls above our head. His hand on our heads is warm, too, and the pressure is not frightening, but…what? Comforting? Cleansing? Yes, and more.

And then the pressure stops, we bob up in the water, and the breeze across the river dries the skin of our faces. We feel like we are glowing, just as he is.

We walk up to the shoreline, a little shaky but happy. Happier than we have felt in a long time. Where does this feeling come from?

Is it from the man?

Is it from the water?

Or is it from his message, his promise that someone even greater is coming?

He no longer seems strange and frightening to us. Odd, perhaps, but not frightening. Suddenly we feel that warmth again, because of the promise he made.

Another one is coming. A powerful one who transforms people through something more than river water. He transforms people through his holy spirit. Will that feel as wonderful as that moment in the river did?

All we know is that we can barely wait for this one whom John spoke of. We can barely wait for the way he will make us feel, for the way that he will change us and the world.

Here, now, in the present day, our needs and wants are not for relief from oppression, as the people in John the Baptist’s time suffered. They may be for relief from sadness or a dreadful illness or loneliness or worry over a child or a parent. They may be for an end to wars and cruelty, an end to poverty or the abuse of children. They may be for release from the habits that enslave us.

Can we imagine walking into that river water and letting go of these things? Can we imagine the hope reborn in our hearts when we are washed clean of the pain that holds us back? Can we await what we will do when the One who is to come arrives?

John the Baptist came to get people ready for that One who is to come. He came to warn and to promise. He came to tell us to prepare ourselves, to make the road straight, to make our hearts straight.

The One who is to come is on his way. Step into the water to prepare yourself. Let go of the pain, let go of the old ways. Make yourself ready, because things are going to be different when He comes!

Amen.

Sermon for Sunday, November 27, 2011 Advent I – Mark 13:24-37 “Occupy Advent”

2011-11-27T06:00:00.000-05:00

In recent weeks, we’ve been seeing lots of news about Occupy Wall Street protesters…we’ve even got our very own Occupy Richmond protesters camping out next door to Mayor Jones’ house. While I’m not really sure exactly what these protesters hope to accomplish, or what exactly they’re protesting against (except greedy bankers), I think we have something to learn from them.

When you care about something deeply, you need to respond with the same depth. You need to “occupy it” to reclaim it and make it your own in a better form.

Whatever you think of the protesters in Zuccotti Park and in Richmond, you cannot deny that they have demonstrated their passion by camping out in all kinds of weather and peacefully protesting values that they oppose. They have responded with commitment and have reclaimed values that they think are important.

In the same way, let’s consider how we can reclaim something important to us, make it our own.

What are we reclaiming?

Advent.

You remember Advent, don’t you? That season of preparation for the birth of Jesus?

But Advent has been hijacked by the sellers of toys for kids and toys for adults. It has been replaced by something called “The Christmas Season,” which I always put in quotation marks, because it seems to have little to do with Christ, or Christmas. It has much more to do with making sure retailers make sufficient sales for the year to ensure a profit for them. “The Christmas Season” is about purchasing the hottest new video game, the latest IPad or IPhone, the flashiest piece of jewelry, the niftiest tool from Home Depot or Lowe’s….or gift cards. Hundreds of thousands of gift cards, to be given when we can’t guess what the recipient would want (because he already has one of everything he might need) or we fear what we get will not be pleasing to the recipient. Did you know that in 2009, $87 billion in gift cards were sold[1]. That’s billion, not million.

A whole lot of little bits of plastic that say “Merry Christmas.” Or maybe they just say “this is the way I fulfill my obligation to you, because we give gifts because they are expected, not because we really want to give them.”

That’s “The Christmas Season” for you…a total of $584 billion[2] in sales, including those ubiquitous gift cards. And I doubt that very many people were thinking about the coming of the Christ child when they purchased that $584 billion worth of goods and services.

We have been claimed by “The Christmas Season” industry, not by the coming Christ Child, and it’s time to stop. It’s time to reclaim this time and the true meaning of what it is about.

So instead of “Occupy Wall Street,” or “Occupy Richmond,” I suggest we “Occupy Advent.” Turn our minds and hearts away from the commercialism that has soiled this season, and reclaim this time of preparation for the gift that you cannot buy at the mall: Jesus Christ.

Let’s get our priorities straight, and reclaim that which is truly important.

That’s what Jesus was talking about in today’s Gospel.

Now I know what many of you were thinking when I read that Gospel passage: “What does this have to do with Advent, with baby Jesus, with Bethlehem? This is downright depressing and a little bit scary.”

Yes, it seems incongruous, and it follows on the heels of last week’s reading about Jesus judging us at the end times. Not very Christmas-y, to be sure.

But let’s put ourselves in the places of those who first heard Jesus speak these words. Let’s remember what was going on in their world. Then maybe a sense of the power of the One who is coming will fill us, and we can reclaim that Advent feeling.

In Jesus’ day, Rome controlled everything. Roman soldiers were everywhere. The cruel king of Judea, Herod, was a puppet of Rome. The Romans taxed the people mercilessly. A distant, powerful, alien emperor who had no love or sympathy for the people of Israel simply used them for what he could milk from their labors. And the Jewish religious leaders were hardly more sympathetic, always demanding enforcement of rules that made little sense, always expecting things from the people that they could ill afford to give.

It was not a happy time. To those who listened to Jesus, it was indeed a time of suffering, as it had been since before Jesus’ birth. And what did Jesus offer? A promise that something good was coming…no, not just good, something wonderful. And he warned them to pay attention, to watch for the signs. “Keep awake, for you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn, or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly. And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake.”

We have been lulled to a state of torpor by endless ads on television or the internet. We have forgotten to look for when the master of the house will return. We are dozing in our complacency that this season is one of purchasing and wrapping, when what we should be doing is watching for the one who is to come.

So let’s Occupy Advent instead of WalMart. Let’s Occupy Advent instead of Short Pump Mall. Let’s reclaim this time when we start to watch for the one who is to come. We, too, live in a time that is full of unhappiness, with war and terrorism and poverty and jobs gone away and addiction and greed. It is not so different than Jesus’ day, is it? So hear this gospel today as a starting point, a reminder that if we wait and watch in humble expectation, we will find what heals us more than any gift card. We will find what will sustain us more than another gadget or toy. We will find the least likely of gifts, a tiny baby in a stable, with the power to love us and give to us eternal life.

Shouldn’t we prepare ourselves for this most precious of gifts? Shouldn’t we reflect on how we have lived our lives this past year? Shouldn’t we pray for guidance and for hope in what is to come? We should…and we can, starting today.

Occupy Advent. Prepare. Watch. Keep awake. He is coming! Amen.

[1] http://articles.moneycentral.msn.com/SmartSpending/FindDealsOnline/how-the-gift-card-stole-christmas.aspx

[2] http://retailindustry.about.com/od/statisticsresearch/a/2010-Us-Christmas-Holiday-Shopping-Data-Statistics-Results-And-Numbers.htm

Thanks

2011-11-25T11:18:00.003-05:00

I just finished Sunday's sermon, so I am truly feeling thankful!

It has been an unusual Thanksgiving week. Last weekend my son StoneMason and his fiancee came down for the weekend. He is clearly deeply in love with this young woman, and she with him. They are relaxed and gently loving and supportive of each other. They came and participated at activities at church with grace - it is never easy to be under scrutiny by a whole bunch of new people, no matter how welcoming they intend to be, but all was pure delight. We had a mini-Thanksgiving dinner on Sunday afternoon before they were to hop on a plane to the Far North. It was delicious and they ate hearty, as did we.

On Tuesday, PH got on a plane to go visit his family in the Windy City. His father had a surgery that turned out to be more complicated than originally thought, and has had a slow recovery. PH had held off on going up there for a few weeks, partly because other dear family members were there tending to needs, partly because his own schedule was so complicated. But I was glad to see him on his way to do this, because even when the recovery is progressing, we actually want to see it in person, to witness to it, don't we?

That meant that I would spend my Thanksgiving Day by myself. I had offers from several parishioners to go to their houses for the feast, but I begged off. The idea of a day of solitude and reflection was too rare, and too good to pass up.

So what was my Thanksgiving Day?

Morning prayer.
Some cleaning up of the house for the houseguest who will come on Saturday night.
Cooking: a loaf of bread, some curried butternut squash soup.
A friend who was also flying solo for the day came over in the afternoon and we walked for an hour.
An early supper with her of bread, salad and soup.
Phone consultations and recipe advice for two of my children, who were each cooking a Thanksgiving feast of their own, in California and Colorado.

And then the evening: taking out the Santa collection, now something like two hundred expressions of St Nicholas, all shapes and sizes, sublime (the one my MIL brought back form Russia) and ridiculous (the Fleet enema Santa - don't ask), setting up the creche, all except the baby Jesus.

Knitting.
Music.
Peace.

A good way to begin the time of keeping awake and waiting for the One who is to come.

Picture above of yours truly with StoneMason and fiancee at StickWorks, a cool exhibit at Lewis Ginter Botanical Gardens.

Sermon for Sunday, November 20, 2011 Ezekiel 34:11-16, 20-24/Matt 25:31-46 “At the Banquet Table or On It”

2011-11-20T06:00:00.000-05:00

On Friday, Doug and I went with my son Sam and his fiancée Shauna to Maymont. We wandered around the Children’s Farm, looked at the raptors, watched a black bear scratch an itch by nuzzling up to a tree stump, and enjoyed the peaceful and beautiful Japanese Garden. One of the really fun moments was visiting with the sheep and the goats. Some of the goats had managed to stick their heads, including their horns, through the bars of the fence so they could more easily reach the bits of feed that kids could buy for a quarter. The sheep looked calm, as usual. The goats looked a bit neurotic, giving us sidelong glances and appearing to wonder why we were looking at them with such glee.

They were pastured together, and seemed quite comfortable sharing the hillside. But as the evening would approach, they would be brought up from the hillside and put into the barn at the top of the hill. The sheep would go in one pen, and the goats another.

The people who take care of the animals would do precisely what Jesus describes in today’s gospel. They would separate the sheep from the goats. Now the folks at Maymont would do it because their pens are clearly marked with little outlines – one has the silhouette of sheep, the other the silhouette of goats. But why would the shepherd in Jesus’ story do that?

It took a little searching, but I finally got the answer. Sheep can actually remain out on the hillside all night. They prefer it. They have that warm wooly coat, after all. Goats do not. They need the warmth of a shelter, out of the cold night wind. A smart shepherd gives each of the animals what they need to survive, be it fresh air or warm shelter.

Now, that actually makes more work for the shepherd, because he has to stay with those sheep on the hillside to protect them from predators. But still, that’s what shepherds do. They do what is necessary for each animal.

That’s the of image of the shepherd that we hear in both our old testament reading and our Gospel…a shepherd who tenderly cares for all his animals, animals who are sometimes a bit wayward and uncooperative.

It’s a warm picture, isn’t it? We visualize one of those Victorian-era paintings with a Jesus wearing sparkling white robes, a blue-eyed, sandy-haired Jesus bearing a fluffy little lamb over his shoulder.

There is also another picture of the shepherd that we get in these readings, particularly in the Gospel reading, where Jesus has some decisions to make, some judgments about the flock, at the end of the season. Who has done what the shepherd has told them to do? Who has been a good member of the flock, doing the shepherd’s bidding?

So the shepherd becomes the judge, a very different role, requiring him to be decisive and clear rather than warmly tender.

How do we reconcile these two roles?

That’s where we need to take a closer look at the reality of the shepherding business. At the end of the season, the shepherd must do some sorting of the animals. Some will be kept to make more lambs and goat kids in the next year. Some will be sold at market to provide offerings and food in the winter season. Some will be traded away. And the shepherd takes on the role of judge to decide which of his charges goes in which category. Some get kept, some – how shall I put it delicately? – get disposed of.

Jesus shifts from being the tender shepherd to being the astute and fair judge of the flock. Not so warm and fuzzy, but clear-eyed and fair.

And the remarkable thing about both the Old Testament and Gospel readings of this time of judgment is how similar they are.

In both cases, God’s people are a flock under the loving care of a shepherd. Some of them are good, some not so good. The shepherd tries to train them, protect them, keep them together, but it doesn’t always work quite as the shepherd had hoped, because sheep and goats, they aren’t always as good as we hope for. The members of the flock who have treated the others badly, stolen their food, pushed them away from the good pasturelands…in a word, the ones who have gotten fat at the expense of others…are the ones who will now suffer. Ezekiel makes it clear: “I will feed them, [those fat and greedy ones] with justice.” Jesus makes it clear: “And these will go into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.”

The shepherd has transformed into the arbiter, judging the members of the flock.

We know that this is a metaphor describing our relationship with Jesus. We are the sheep and Jesus is the shepherd.

Now this might make us nervous. None of us likes to be judged. We know we are less than perfect, and we worry that Jesus might be disappointed in us and we might be cast out into eternal punishment. I’m willing to accept punishment for my sins, which are many, but I surely hope that I will dodge the bullet of eternal punishment.

The good news is that Jesus gives us very clear instructions on what we are supposed to do to be on the right side of his judgment seat: feed the hungry, clothe the naked, give drink to the thirst, visit the sick or those in prison. In short, help those who need help.

And the second bit of good news is that we do some of these things. Lamb’s Basket, both donating food and working at the food pantry. Lay Eucharistic Ministers bringing communion to those who are homebound or in nursing homes. Thanksgiving food baskets for Interfaith Services of Henrico.

The remarkable thing is how unremarkable these things seem to us. We don’t make a big deal about bringing some food to be donated, or to go out to someone’s home to bring them communion. We don’t make a fuss about giving a neighbor a call. It isn’t something dramatic and flashy…it is simple things, done every week, lending a hand, not expecting anything in return.

And that is the good news that we hear today. Even at the time of final judgment, that time when it’s sorting time, sheep on one side, goats on the other, we need not be afraid. We have done the simple things that Jesus has asked of us, without any expectations. And because of that, we are promised eternal life. Not endless punishment, but eternal life.

We may wonder if we are good enough to be judged worthy of eternal life. This gospel is the reminder that we can be. It doesn’t take incredibly dramatic work. It doesn’t take martyrdom or changing the world. It simply takes doing simple things, changing things just a bit at a time. Helping one person, one little bit. “Whatever you have done for the least of these – even one small thing done for the least of these – you have done for me.”

So the next time you drop a box of cereal in the basket for the hungry, or run an errand for someone, or say a prayer for someone, you are helping Jesus, and you are helping Jesus decide whether you are a member of the flock who has earned eternal life.

The shepherd cares for you, but he also must figure out whether you get sent off to become someone’s leg of lamb dinner or whether you get to stay with the flock for the season. Will you be seated at the banquet table or be served on it? You decide, so he can decide. What will you do?

Amen.

It's time....

2011-11-15T11:24:00.001-05:00

...to go back to what one friend of mine refers to as The Fat Club. you know, that place that assigns points to all the foods and such. I saw a video taken of me recently, and it wasn't pretty. Sweet, but not pretty. So tomorrow morning I'm going to get up and out and weigh in and begin getting some more discipline back in my life, at least around the eating thing.

Happy!

2011-11-14T22:13:00.002-05:00

Three wonderful things happened yesterday and today:
1) our Vestry voted to call me as their rector, converting me from a term-limited Priest-in-Charge to a stay-until-you-are ready-to-leave-unless-you-do-a-bad-thing call. I am feeling like there is so much more ministry to do here, so it is a blessing. When it was announced at our annual congregational meeting yesterday, there was much joy and enthusiasm in the room. I'm pleased beyond words.
2) I found a very reasonable and beautiful tribal rug on Overstock.com, ordered it on Friday, and it arrived today. The colors are even better than it appeared on the website and it will really finish the room. A small thing in the grand scheme of things, nothing of the magnitude of item #1, but it just tickles me.
3) at a regional meeting of our parishes tonight, two folks from other parishes asked about bringing two new children to our St Giles Gate program on Saturday (CE and worship for children with special needs). This is just what we wanted for this ministry, that we would be a resource to the larger community. TBTG!

All good things, regardless of magnitude, are gifts from God. Also a good thing: my father-in-law, who had some major league surgery a couple of weeks ago, is slowly recovering and getting his sense of humor and feistiness back. PH is headed out next week to visit for a few days and spend Thanksgiving there. I get to have a peaceful day of not overeating and watching old movies on Netflix streaming video. And my son StoneMason and his fiancee are headed down here this weekend for a visit, so we will have an early Thanksgiving-ish dinner together. I'm feeling very blessed right about now. Tired, but blessed.