Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
February 1, 2009
Year B: The Fourth Sunday after Epiphany
Deuteronomy 18:15-20
Psalm 111
(1 Corinthians 8:1-13)
Mark 1:21-28
The Bad News is Not the Only News
I’m sure many of you know that the writer John Updike died this week. Over his long career Updike produced a tremendous amount of all kinds of writing, and although it might not have always been obvious, religious faith, or the loss of faith, was one of his main themes.
This week I was rereading some of his work and I was struck by something he once said in a speech. He noted that unlike people without faith we Christians can face the hard truths of life head on. We can face the sadness, fear and disappointments of life. We don’t have to sugarcoat the painful parts of life. Updike said that for us Christians, “The bad news can be told full out, for it is not the only news.”
“The bad news can be told full out, for it is not the only news.”
Now, the Gospel of Mark is all about the good news - the Good News of Jesus Christ, and in today’s lesson Mark presents us with quite a scene, doesn’t he? I’m guessing what we just heard was not a typical Sabbath service at the synagogue in Capernaum! In this account Mark the Evangelist, typically, gets right to the point. On the Sabbath, Jesus and his disciples show up at the synagogue in the seaside town of Capernaum and the people are “astounded by his teaching, for he taught them as one with authority.”
Mark doesn’t actually tell us the content of Jesus’ teaching – just that the assembly was very impressed.
Then Jesus is challenged by the man with the “unclean spirit” and the people are amazed when the “unclean spirit” obeys and departs this poor, unnamed man.
The people cry out, “What is this? A new teaching – with authority! He commands even the unclean spirits, and they obey him!”
If you come back next week you’ll hear that in fact Jesus is just getting started on this Sabbath day. Later in the day Jesus heals Simon’s mother-in-law and as the word spreads about his power Mark tells us that the whole town of Capernaum will gather around him.
So here’s Jesus is displaying all this power - and we’re still in only the first chapter of Mark’s Gospel.
You may remember just a couple of weeks ago we heard the very beginning of Mark’s gospel – the baptism of Jesus. Next Jesus faced forty days of temptation in the wilderness. And finally, last week, Jesus began to gather his disciples – calling Simon and Andrew and James and John. In Mark’s telling, Jesus simply says to these fishermen, “Follow me,” and they drop everything, changing the course of their lives forever.
In these quick, economical verses Mark tells us nothing about Jesus’ background or the content of Jesus’ teaching.
In these quick, economical verses Mark is making one big point: Jesus is powerful.
Mark doesn’t present a meek and mild Jesus. Mark presents Jesus receiving his power at his baptism in the River Jordan. Mark presents Jesus as a powerful person who withstood forty days of temptation in the wilderness. Mark presents Jesus as a powerful person who calls on others to change their lives – and they really do change their lives. Mark presents Jesus as a powerful person who teaches like no one else has ever taught before and who is able to defeat the evil forces of this world.
Mark is clear: Jesus is powerful.
In our Old Testament lesson from Deuteronomy, we heard Moses predict that God would raise up a prophet like him and the people should listen to him.
Mark understands that, in Jesus, God has done that and much more. Jesus is more than a prophet. Jesus is what Mark here calls the “Holy One of God” – a special title, used only three times in the whole New Testament.
Jesus is powerful.
Jesus is powerful because his will, his whole life, is perfectly aligned with God the Father. Jesus does the will of God the Father and so he resists forty days of temptation. Jesus does the will of God the Father and so people stop what they are doing and change the course of their lives. Jesus does the will of God the Father and so he teaches with an authority unlike any known before and is able to drive away the unclean spirits.
Jesus is powerful because his life is perfectly aligned with God the Father.
And since we are the Body of Christ in the world, then if our lives are aligned with God’s will, then we are powerful, too.
But, I wonder how many of us actually believe that? How many of us believe that if our lives are aligned with God’s will then we will have great power?
Last week, Lauren and I were at the institution of the new rector at Christ Church in Short Hills. The bishop preached an excellent sermon in which he reminded us of the term “functional atheism.” Anyone heard of this before?
“Functional atheism” was coined by the Quaker author and educator Parker Palmer. A “functional atheist” is someone who says they believe in God but lives like God doesn’t exist.
Sometimes “functional atheism” can play itself out as thinking that we can do everything on our own – that we don’t need or want God’s help.
“Functional atheism” can also play itself out as coming to church, saying all the “right” words, but living as if God has no power at all, as if God does not exist. “Functional atheism” can mean that we live as if we – the Body of Christ in the world – have no power at all. “Functional atheism” can mean that in our hearts we believe there is no good news at all.
In his sermon, the bishop said he was preaching as much to himself as he was to us – and, to be honest, the same is true for me.
Many of us – including me - are concerned about the economy. But in my particular case, “functional atheism” plays out in my anxiety about the Church. I’m not anxious at all about Grace Church – which in a lot of ways is an oasis – but I do worry about our diocese and the larger church, as attendance declines and finances are depleted.
And this “functional atheist” wonders, what’s my future in the church? How many churches will be able to afford a full-time priest? How will I earn a living?
I bet although the details of your functional atheism are different, the essence remains the same – the denial that God has any real power – the belief that it’s either all up to us or the belief that we’re helpless in the face of far greater powers.
But, as Christians we should know better. Just as Jesus faced the man possessed by the unclean spirit you and I can face the unclean spirits of our time and place, the unclean spirits of fear, anxiety, greed and selfishness.
Jesus, whose will was aligned with the Father’s will, was able to cast out unclean spirits. And if our wills are aligned with God’s will then we too can cast out the “unclean spirits” of our own time and place.
And we don’t have to look very far to see the casting out of unclean spirits all around us – when our wills are aligned with God’s will.
We saw it a few weeks ago when over a thousand people came out for the bone marrow donor drive for Kelli Wynne. Wasn’t that a powerful example of casting out the unclean spirits of fear and anxiety?
I saw it last week when a parishioner called and said he sits on the board of a foundation that will match our “Souper Bowl” donation if we reach $1000. And, by the way, I have every confidence that we will exceed $1000. Aren’t these powerful examples of casting out the unclean spirits of greed and selfishness?
As Christians we can face the unclean spirits of our time and place and not give in to despair. As Updike says of us Christians, “The bad news can be told full out, for it is not the only news.”
The bad news is not the only news - the good news is the power of Jesus and the good news is the power that we have together when our wills are aligned with God’s will.
Long ago Jesus had quite a day in the synagogue in Capernaum. Because his will was perfectly aligned with the will of God the Father, Jesus was capable of teaching with great authority and casting out unclean spirits.
If our will is aligned with God’s will, then we – the Body of Christ – on earth are also capable of great power. We too can cast aside our functional atheism and cast out the unclean spirits of our time and place.
All of this is possible because we know the bad news is not the only news.
Amen.
Sunday, February 01, 2009
Being Together
The Messenger
February 2009
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
Being Together
I am sure that many of us agree that one of the real highlights for Grace Church during 2008 was the extremely successful 10,000 Villages event in December. It was amazing to see Nieman Hall transformed by a band of hardworking, determined parishioners into a dazzling marketplace. I invited my parents and some friends to the Friday night preview party and they were certainly impressed by what had been achieved – and also gave into temptation and purchased a couple of items. Later, many parishioners mentioned to me that they really enjoyed the party because it gave us a chance to enjoy one another’s company, meet new parishioners, and catch up with old friends.
In these challenging times it’s especially important for us to be together. Yet, for a variety of reasons many of us don’t get to spend enough time with friends. Some of us are incredibly busy, juggling all the responsibilities and tasks of work and family. Others of us have become isolated, perhaps because a spouse has died or we are no longer able to get out the way we once did. And even if we are fortunate enough to spend time with friends, often there are many parishioners we don’t know at all.
In an effort to meet this need, Grace Church is offering a new opportunity for being together called “First Friday.” Beginning on February 6, on each first Friday of the month beginning at 7:00pm, all the adults of Grace Church are invited to “First Friday” - a potluck supper in the parish hall. Bring a dish and a beverage and let’s spend some time just being together. There is no cost for this event – it’s not a fundraiser. Child care will be available in the nursery. Rides are available for those of us who are unable to drive, or can’t drive at night.
To make things even more interesting, each month at “First Friday” a different Grace Church parishioner will be invited to share something with the group about their work, or a hobby or an interest. We have a wonderfully talented and interesting congregation, but most of us do not really know much about each other. For our first “First Friday” I have invited Eric Stroud (one of the most talented and interesting among us!) to share a bit about his work in the world of sharks. I know it will be a fascinating and fun evening. I hope many of you will be there. Please let me know if you have any questions or suggestions.
“First Friday” is something new, but Grace Church already offers many opportunities for us to be together. Both the Men’s Group and the Women of Grace have been increasingly active. At the end of January the Friday morning Men’s Breakfast at the Bagel Chateau shattered all previous records when 10 of us pushed tables together and had a lively conversation. The Tuesday evening Craft Guild continues to gather, enjoying one another’s company in the library on Tuesday evenings. I’m told at least one person’s “craft” is folding laundry! On Friday afternoons the choir moms and dads enjoy fine coffee and snacks and even better conversation while the children are in choir rehearsal.
And then of course there are our services during the week. If you have never come to a weekday service – or if you haven’t been to one in a while – I really encourage you to take advantage of this great blessing we have at Grace Church. Each service has its own little community, providing not only an opportunity for prayer and worship, but also wonderful, caring fellowship. And sometimes there’s food involved! After the Thursday morning Eucharist most of us have breakfast together, lately at the Bagel Chateau, but soon back in our own kitchen. The breakfasts after Morning Prayer on Saturday are fantastic, and easily one of Grace Church’s best-kept secrets.
Finally, the most important opportunity to be together is on Sunday when we are all called to gather in church, to hear God’s Word and to receive the Body and Blood of Christ. After the morning services, as always, coffee hour is a time to catch up with one another and to just be together. If you haven’t been around in a while, come this Sunday and catch up with old friends. And, don’t forget to mark your calendars for “First Friday” on the 6th!
February 2009
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
Being Together
I am sure that many of us agree that one of the real highlights for Grace Church during 2008 was the extremely successful 10,000 Villages event in December. It was amazing to see Nieman Hall transformed by a band of hardworking, determined parishioners into a dazzling marketplace. I invited my parents and some friends to the Friday night preview party and they were certainly impressed by what had been achieved – and also gave into temptation and purchased a couple of items. Later, many parishioners mentioned to me that they really enjoyed the party because it gave us a chance to enjoy one another’s company, meet new parishioners, and catch up with old friends.
In these challenging times it’s especially important for us to be together. Yet, for a variety of reasons many of us don’t get to spend enough time with friends. Some of us are incredibly busy, juggling all the responsibilities and tasks of work and family. Others of us have become isolated, perhaps because a spouse has died or we are no longer able to get out the way we once did. And even if we are fortunate enough to spend time with friends, often there are many parishioners we don’t know at all.
In an effort to meet this need, Grace Church is offering a new opportunity for being together called “First Friday.” Beginning on February 6, on each first Friday of the month beginning at 7:00pm, all the adults of Grace Church are invited to “First Friday” - a potluck supper in the parish hall. Bring a dish and a beverage and let’s spend some time just being together. There is no cost for this event – it’s not a fundraiser. Child care will be available in the nursery. Rides are available for those of us who are unable to drive, or can’t drive at night.
To make things even more interesting, each month at “First Friday” a different Grace Church parishioner will be invited to share something with the group about their work, or a hobby or an interest. We have a wonderfully talented and interesting congregation, but most of us do not really know much about each other. For our first “First Friday” I have invited Eric Stroud (one of the most talented and interesting among us!) to share a bit about his work in the world of sharks. I know it will be a fascinating and fun evening. I hope many of you will be there. Please let me know if you have any questions or suggestions.
“First Friday” is something new, but Grace Church already offers many opportunities for us to be together. Both the Men’s Group and the Women of Grace have been increasingly active. At the end of January the Friday morning Men’s Breakfast at the Bagel Chateau shattered all previous records when 10 of us pushed tables together and had a lively conversation. The Tuesday evening Craft Guild continues to gather, enjoying one another’s company in the library on Tuesday evenings. I’m told at least one person’s “craft” is folding laundry! On Friday afternoons the choir moms and dads enjoy fine coffee and snacks and even better conversation while the children are in choir rehearsal.
And then of course there are our services during the week. If you have never come to a weekday service – or if you haven’t been to one in a while – I really encourage you to take advantage of this great blessing we have at Grace Church. Each service has its own little community, providing not only an opportunity for prayer and worship, but also wonderful, caring fellowship. And sometimes there’s food involved! After the Thursday morning Eucharist most of us have breakfast together, lately at the Bagel Chateau, but soon back in our own kitchen. The breakfasts after Morning Prayer on Saturday are fantastic, and easily one of Grace Church’s best-kept secrets.
Finally, the most important opportunity to be together is on Sunday when we are all called to gather in church, to hear God’s Word and to receive the Body and Blood of Christ. After the morning services, as always, coffee hour is a time to catch up with one another and to just be together. If you haven’t been around in a while, come this Sunday and catch up with old friends. And, don’t forget to mark your calendars for “First Friday” on the 6th!
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Baptism: The Real Beginning
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
January 11, 2009
Year B: The Baptism of Our Lord
Genesis 1:1-5
Psalm 29
Mark 1:4-11
Baptism: The Real Beginning
Today is the day we remember the baptism of our Lord. But, if you stop and think about it, isn’t it kind of strange that Jesus, our Lord, the Messiah, the Son of God, was baptized? I mean, if ever there was a person who didn’t need to be baptized it would be Jesus, wouldn’t it?
Yet, although it seems a little strange, Matthew, Mark and Luke all tell the story of Jesus’ baptism in their gospels. The evangelist John, writing the fourth gospel a little while later, was – like us - maybe a little uncomfortable with the idea of Jesus being baptized by John. So in his gospel John doesn’t include the actual baptism of Jesus. But, he does include the testimony of John the Baptist: “I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it remained on him.”
Today, though, we heard Mark’s version – probably the earliest, and certainly the most barebones. Mark places Jesus’ baptism right at the start of his gospel. In a few quick sentences he introduces John the Baptist as an Elijah-type figure. And then here’s how Mark introduces Jesus:
“In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan.”
That’s it. Mark either doesn’t know about or isn’t interested in Jesus’ back story. There’s no genealogy, no angels, no shepherds, no wise men, no manger. If all we had was the Gospel of Mark, there’d be no Christmas pageant!
For Mark, Jesus’ life really begins with his baptism.
So we’re left to imagine Jesus’ life before his baptism. Most scholars believe that Jesus probably started out as a disciple of John the Baptist. And we can imagine him listening to John’s preaching and teaching. We can imagine Jesus watching John, day after day, baptize people in the Jordan. And we can imagine Jesus asking the same questions we all ask. We can imagine Jesus wondering and praying – who am I? What am I called to be? What is my mission in life?
And we can imagine that the answer Jesus was getting back seemed outlandish, absurd, and terrifying. We can imagine him shaking his head in disbelief. I’m just a carpenter from Nazareth. What I’m feeling and hearing can’t be right.
And then the day came when Jesus finally came forward to take the plunge. Jesus comes up out of the water and he hears the voice of God, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”
Jesus realizes who he really is in his baptism. Jesus’ life really begins with his baptism.
And what’s true for Jesus is also true for us. In our baptism we realize who we really are. In our baptism our life really begins.
I am sure throughout his earthly life and ministry – especially during the most painful and frightening moments - Jesus remembered that day in the Jordan. Jesus remembered that it was in his baptism that he realized who he really was. Jesus remembered that it was at his baptism that his life really began.
And, you know, the same is true for us. In our baptism we realize who we really are. Our lives really begin at our baptism.
There’s just one problem. Most of us don’t remember our baptism.
When my wife Sue and I were dating she mentioned a couple of times that she actually remembered her baptism. I was skeptical. Now, Sue doesn’t have the best memory and I was sure she was mistaken. Could she be remembering something else – like Confirmation? I mean I know they say that we store in our brains every experience we ever have, but how could you possibly remember your baptism?
“I remember my baptism,” Sue insisted.
Well, when we were getting married we had to get a copy of our baptismal certificates. And sure enough Sue had been about six years old when she was baptized. We think it was time for her to start school and so her parents realized they needed to get their youngest child of six baptized.
But since most of us were baptized as infants we don’t remember our baptism. We need to be reminded of our baptism. We need to remind one another about our baptism.
One of the ways the Church reminds us of our baptism is in Confirmation. And it just so happens that eleven of our young people will begin Confirmation class tonight. A few months from now at the Confirmation service they’ll have the chance to stand on their own and say they want to be part of the Christian Church.
Confirmation is great, but the best way that the Church reminds us of our own baptism is by letting us witness other baptisms. Personally, I believe that one of the best customs in the Episcopal Church is that we almost always baptize right in the middle of a Sunday service. I love how we invite the children to gather around the font and watch the baptism take place. Most of you can’t see their faces, but usually the children look on with wonder and joy. And that seems about right!
Public baptism is important because it symbolizes that we are baptized into a community.
Public baptism is important because it gives us all an opportunity to promise our support of those who are being baptized into the Christian life.
And public baptism is important because it reminds us of our own baptism – it reminds us of who we really are – it reminds us of when our lives really began.
And public baptism also reminds us of the promises we made – or were made for us – in our baptism.
In the words of today’s collect “Grant that all who are baptized into his Name may keep the covenant they have made, and boldly confess him as Lord and Savior.”
That covenant – those promises – reminds us that baptism is the beginning of our life - but it’s not the end. With God’s help, we are expected to live out those promises each day of our lives.
Our baptismal promises aren’t easy – they are the challenge, the work, of our lives.
Today is a particularly good day to be reminded of those promises.
In our baptism we promise to continue in the apostle’s teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of the bread and the prayers.
In our baptism we promise to persevere in resisting evil, and, whenever we fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord.
In our baptism we promise to proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ.
In our baptism we promise to seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as our self.
And in our baptism we promise to strive for justice and peace among all people and respect the dignity of every human being.
These are serious promises. In the busyness of life it’s easy to forget them. Or, to be honest, because they are such serious promises maybe we might prefer to forget them.
And so the Church offers us reminders.
In Mark’s gospel right after Jesus’ baptism Jesus spends forty days in the wilderness being tempted and tested. I am sure throughout those days and all the later tests and temptations of life Jesus continued to draw upon the experience of his baptism.
I am sure during the difficult days ahead Jesus continued to draw upon his baptism - when he realized who he really was - that he was God’s beloved child.
I am sure that during the difficult days ahead Jesus continued to draw upon the experience of his baptism – when his life really began.
And so you and I, even if we don’t remember our own baptism, we too can draw upon our baptism. We can draw upon our baptism and remember that we are loved by God. We can remember that it is in baptism that we realize who we really are. And it is in baptism that our life really begins.
Amen.
January 11, 2009
Year B: The Baptism of Our Lord
Genesis 1:1-5
Psalm 29
Mark 1:4-11
Baptism: The Real Beginning
Today is the day we remember the baptism of our Lord. But, if you stop and think about it, isn’t it kind of strange that Jesus, our Lord, the Messiah, the Son of God, was baptized? I mean, if ever there was a person who didn’t need to be baptized it would be Jesus, wouldn’t it?
Yet, although it seems a little strange, Matthew, Mark and Luke all tell the story of Jesus’ baptism in their gospels. The evangelist John, writing the fourth gospel a little while later, was – like us - maybe a little uncomfortable with the idea of Jesus being baptized by John. So in his gospel John doesn’t include the actual baptism of Jesus. But, he does include the testimony of John the Baptist: “I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it remained on him.”
Today, though, we heard Mark’s version – probably the earliest, and certainly the most barebones. Mark places Jesus’ baptism right at the start of his gospel. In a few quick sentences he introduces John the Baptist as an Elijah-type figure. And then here’s how Mark introduces Jesus:
“In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan.”
That’s it. Mark either doesn’t know about or isn’t interested in Jesus’ back story. There’s no genealogy, no angels, no shepherds, no wise men, no manger. If all we had was the Gospel of Mark, there’d be no Christmas pageant!
For Mark, Jesus’ life really begins with his baptism.
So we’re left to imagine Jesus’ life before his baptism. Most scholars believe that Jesus probably started out as a disciple of John the Baptist. And we can imagine him listening to John’s preaching and teaching. We can imagine Jesus watching John, day after day, baptize people in the Jordan. And we can imagine Jesus asking the same questions we all ask. We can imagine Jesus wondering and praying – who am I? What am I called to be? What is my mission in life?
And we can imagine that the answer Jesus was getting back seemed outlandish, absurd, and terrifying. We can imagine him shaking his head in disbelief. I’m just a carpenter from Nazareth. What I’m feeling and hearing can’t be right.
And then the day came when Jesus finally came forward to take the plunge. Jesus comes up out of the water and he hears the voice of God, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”
Jesus realizes who he really is in his baptism. Jesus’ life really begins with his baptism.
And what’s true for Jesus is also true for us. In our baptism we realize who we really are. In our baptism our life really begins.
I am sure throughout his earthly life and ministry – especially during the most painful and frightening moments - Jesus remembered that day in the Jordan. Jesus remembered that it was in his baptism that he realized who he really was. Jesus remembered that it was at his baptism that his life really began.
And, you know, the same is true for us. In our baptism we realize who we really are. Our lives really begin at our baptism.
There’s just one problem. Most of us don’t remember our baptism.
When my wife Sue and I were dating she mentioned a couple of times that she actually remembered her baptism. I was skeptical. Now, Sue doesn’t have the best memory and I was sure she was mistaken. Could she be remembering something else – like Confirmation? I mean I know they say that we store in our brains every experience we ever have, but how could you possibly remember your baptism?
“I remember my baptism,” Sue insisted.
Well, when we were getting married we had to get a copy of our baptismal certificates. And sure enough Sue had been about six years old when she was baptized. We think it was time for her to start school and so her parents realized they needed to get their youngest child of six baptized.
But since most of us were baptized as infants we don’t remember our baptism. We need to be reminded of our baptism. We need to remind one another about our baptism.
One of the ways the Church reminds us of our baptism is in Confirmation. And it just so happens that eleven of our young people will begin Confirmation class tonight. A few months from now at the Confirmation service they’ll have the chance to stand on their own and say they want to be part of the Christian Church.
Confirmation is great, but the best way that the Church reminds us of our own baptism is by letting us witness other baptisms. Personally, I believe that one of the best customs in the Episcopal Church is that we almost always baptize right in the middle of a Sunday service. I love how we invite the children to gather around the font and watch the baptism take place. Most of you can’t see their faces, but usually the children look on with wonder and joy. And that seems about right!
Public baptism is important because it symbolizes that we are baptized into a community.
Public baptism is important because it gives us all an opportunity to promise our support of those who are being baptized into the Christian life.
And public baptism is important because it reminds us of our own baptism – it reminds us of who we really are – it reminds us of when our lives really began.
And public baptism also reminds us of the promises we made – or were made for us – in our baptism.
In the words of today’s collect “Grant that all who are baptized into his Name may keep the covenant they have made, and boldly confess him as Lord and Savior.”
That covenant – those promises – reminds us that baptism is the beginning of our life - but it’s not the end. With God’s help, we are expected to live out those promises each day of our lives.
Our baptismal promises aren’t easy – they are the challenge, the work, of our lives.
Today is a particularly good day to be reminded of those promises.
In our baptism we promise to continue in the apostle’s teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of the bread and the prayers.
In our baptism we promise to persevere in resisting evil, and, whenever we fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord.
In our baptism we promise to proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ.
In our baptism we promise to seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as our self.
And in our baptism we promise to strive for justice and peace among all people and respect the dignity of every human being.
These are serious promises. In the busyness of life it’s easy to forget them. Or, to be honest, because they are such serious promises maybe we might prefer to forget them.
And so the Church offers us reminders.
In Mark’s gospel right after Jesus’ baptism Jesus spends forty days in the wilderness being tempted and tested. I am sure throughout those days and all the later tests and temptations of life Jesus continued to draw upon the experience of his baptism.
I am sure during the difficult days ahead Jesus continued to draw upon his baptism - when he realized who he really was - that he was God’s beloved child.
I am sure that during the difficult days ahead Jesus continued to draw upon the experience of his baptism – when his life really began.
And so you and I, even if we don’t remember our own baptism, we too can draw upon our baptism. We can draw upon our baptism and remember that we are loved by God. We can remember that it is in baptism that we realize who we really are. And it is in baptism that our life really begins.
Amen.
Thursday, January 01, 2009
The Feast of the Holy Name: Christmas, Continued
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
January 1, 2009
The Holy Name of Our Lord
Exodus 34:1-8
Psalm 8
Romans 1:1-7
Luke 2:15-21
The Feast of the Holy Name: Christmas, Continued
Well, happy New Year! As the rest of society sleeps off last night’s partying, or happily turns the page on what was a pretty bleak year, or maybe starts getting used to writing ’09 on their checks, here we are… in church.
While the rest of society focuses a little blearily on the start of a new year, the Church, maybe also a little bleary-eyed, celebrates the Feast of the Holy Name of Our Lord.
It’s the Feast of the Holy Name… but it’s also still Christmas. And what we celebrate on this feast day is very much a continuation of what we celebrated on Christmas. We celebrate the revelation of God in Jesus. God comes into the world in a new and decisive way in that helpless child whose birth we celebrated a little more than a week ago.
Today is Christmas, continued.
According to the Law of Moses on the eighth day all Jewish male newborns are to be circumcised and officially be given their names. And so we just heard the brief account in Luke’s Gospel that tells us that the Messiah was circumcised and was given his name: what was then the relatively common name of Yeshua – Joshua – Jesus in Greek. The Messiah is given a name which means savior or deliverer.
And so the revelation of Christmas continues. God comes into the world in this helpless child – a helpless child who will grow up and be our savior; who will grow up and deliver us from sin and death.
It turns out that, by Christian standards, this not a particularly ancient feast. The Feast of the Holy Name of Jesus “only” goes back to the late middle ages. Long-time Episcopalians may remember that today used to be called the Feast of the Circumcision. But although this feast, by Christian standards, is not very ancient, the fact is that right from the start of Christianity the name of Jesus was seen as very important. The name of Jesus was essentially synonymous with the person of Jesus.
We hear the importance and power of Jesus’ name in the opening of Paul’s letter to the Romans where he writes, “…Jesus Christ our Lord, through whom we have received grace and apostleship to bring about the obedience of faith among all the Gentiles for the sake of his name…”
This idea that Jesus’ name was seen as essentially synonymous with Jesus himself seems a little odd to us, doesn’t it? We may not make a big fuss about names today, but in the ancient world it was a big deal to tell someone your name. By telling someone your name you revealed something very personal about yourself. Nowadays, I guess we feel that way about our Social Security number, but not our name. I’m happy to tell you my name. My name is no big deal.
I suppose most parents give a lot of thought to the name they choose for their children. And we either like the names we are given or we don’t. A very few of us dislike our names so much that we change them – but I guess after a while most of us don’t really give our names much thought.
In my case, I was named for three Thomases – my father and both of my grandfathers. I like that, but never really given much thought to it. Sometimes, though, I’ve wished I had a more distinctive name. Believe me, there are many Tom Murphys out there! I’ve actually met people who didn’t like some other Tom Murphy and had to try not to transfer those negative feelings toward me. Believe it or not, there was another Tom Murphy ordained in another diocese right around the same time I was. We even accidentally received each other’s General Ordination Exam scores! A few weeks ago in Shop Rite the cashier saw my name and asked if I had grown up in Springfield. I said, no, I wasn’t that Tom Murphy. And he said, yeah, I guess not, that Tom Murphy had red hair!
However, I had an experience this summer that got me thinking about the importance of our name and the significance of revealing, or not revealing, our name with someone else.
For three days this past summer I attended a daily Eucharist at a prominent Episcopal church in California. Each day there were about five or six other people at the service. On the first day I was there, after the service on my way out I introduced myself to the priest. I said something like, “Hi, I’m Tom Murphy. I’m a priest visiting from the Diocese of Newark…” The priest welcomed me, asked how my trip was going, was very pleasant - but he didn’t tell me his name.
The next day I went back. There was a different priest. At the end of the service, same thing: I greeted the priest, and told him my name and where I was from. This priest did the same thing – once again very nice, cordial – but he didn’t tell me his name.
The third day I went back and it was the priest from the first day. As I was leaving, I reintroduced myself, telling him my name again. And once again he didn’t tell me his name!
Now, I don’t want to make too much of these incidents. But it really bugged me that I told these priests my name and they wouldn’t tell me theirs. The fact that this bothered me so much tells me that maybe our names are a big deal and maybe choosing to reveal our names is a bigger deal than I had thought.
And if our names are important, just how much more important must be the name of Jesus?
I never really gave much thought to the name of Jesus until I arrived at General Seminary four years ago. Remember, I grew up Roman Catholic in the 1970s and 1980s – the age of a simplified, folk music liturgy, the age of guitar-playing nuns leading us in song, the age of “Kumbaya”. Jesus was depicted as our groovy, bearded, sandal-wearing friend. It’s easy to make fun of now, but in a lot of ways it was a great time, and I think many of us felt close to Jesus, but we didn’t exactly show reverence to Jesus or his Name. And we certainly didn’t bow our heads whenever the Holy Name of Jesus was mentioned!
In fact it wasn’t until I went to General Seminary that I regularly saw people bowing their heads in the chapel whenever Jesus’ name was mentioned. At first, to be honest, I thought this was a kind of silly overly-pious affectation. But the more I thought about it, I came to see the bowing as a sign, as a physical reminder that, in the case of Jesus of Nazareth, the once relatively common name of “Jesus” is holy – it is other, it is higher than all other names because Jesus himself is holy, Jesus is the revelation of God, God made flesh.
And so today, the Feast of the Holy Name is Christmas, continued. In Christmas we celebrate the revelation of God in this child named Jesus who is our savior and deliverer.
And Christmas is really part of a long story stretching all the way back to Moses on Mt. Sinai. Christmas is part of a story of God reaching out to men and women, revealing God’s self to us, letting us know what God expects of us and how much God loves us.
God reveals God’s self to Moses and on Christmas God reveals God’s self once and for all in the savior named Jesus.
Our job today - no matter how bleary-eyed we are - is to take a moment and give thanks for the Holy Name of Jesus. And then we are to go out and live lives that reveal God’s presence and love to the world.
Now it’s our turn to be part of Christmas, continued.
Amen.
January 1, 2009
The Holy Name of Our Lord
Exodus 34:1-8
Psalm 8
Romans 1:1-7
Luke 2:15-21
The Feast of the Holy Name: Christmas, Continued
Well, happy New Year! As the rest of society sleeps off last night’s partying, or happily turns the page on what was a pretty bleak year, or maybe starts getting used to writing ’09 on their checks, here we are… in church.
While the rest of society focuses a little blearily on the start of a new year, the Church, maybe also a little bleary-eyed, celebrates the Feast of the Holy Name of Our Lord.
It’s the Feast of the Holy Name… but it’s also still Christmas. And what we celebrate on this feast day is very much a continuation of what we celebrated on Christmas. We celebrate the revelation of God in Jesus. God comes into the world in a new and decisive way in that helpless child whose birth we celebrated a little more than a week ago.
Today is Christmas, continued.
According to the Law of Moses on the eighth day all Jewish male newborns are to be circumcised and officially be given their names. And so we just heard the brief account in Luke’s Gospel that tells us that the Messiah was circumcised and was given his name: what was then the relatively common name of Yeshua – Joshua – Jesus in Greek. The Messiah is given a name which means savior or deliverer.
And so the revelation of Christmas continues. God comes into the world in this helpless child – a helpless child who will grow up and be our savior; who will grow up and deliver us from sin and death.
It turns out that, by Christian standards, this not a particularly ancient feast. The Feast of the Holy Name of Jesus “only” goes back to the late middle ages. Long-time Episcopalians may remember that today used to be called the Feast of the Circumcision. But although this feast, by Christian standards, is not very ancient, the fact is that right from the start of Christianity the name of Jesus was seen as very important. The name of Jesus was essentially synonymous with the person of Jesus.
We hear the importance and power of Jesus’ name in the opening of Paul’s letter to the Romans where he writes, “…Jesus Christ our Lord, through whom we have received grace and apostleship to bring about the obedience of faith among all the Gentiles for the sake of his name…”
This idea that Jesus’ name was seen as essentially synonymous with Jesus himself seems a little odd to us, doesn’t it? We may not make a big fuss about names today, but in the ancient world it was a big deal to tell someone your name. By telling someone your name you revealed something very personal about yourself. Nowadays, I guess we feel that way about our Social Security number, but not our name. I’m happy to tell you my name. My name is no big deal.
I suppose most parents give a lot of thought to the name they choose for their children. And we either like the names we are given or we don’t. A very few of us dislike our names so much that we change them – but I guess after a while most of us don’t really give our names much thought.
In my case, I was named for three Thomases – my father and both of my grandfathers. I like that, but never really given much thought to it. Sometimes, though, I’ve wished I had a more distinctive name. Believe me, there are many Tom Murphys out there! I’ve actually met people who didn’t like some other Tom Murphy and had to try not to transfer those negative feelings toward me. Believe it or not, there was another Tom Murphy ordained in another diocese right around the same time I was. We even accidentally received each other’s General Ordination Exam scores! A few weeks ago in Shop Rite the cashier saw my name and asked if I had grown up in Springfield. I said, no, I wasn’t that Tom Murphy. And he said, yeah, I guess not, that Tom Murphy had red hair!
However, I had an experience this summer that got me thinking about the importance of our name and the significance of revealing, or not revealing, our name with someone else.
For three days this past summer I attended a daily Eucharist at a prominent Episcopal church in California. Each day there were about five or six other people at the service. On the first day I was there, after the service on my way out I introduced myself to the priest. I said something like, “Hi, I’m Tom Murphy. I’m a priest visiting from the Diocese of Newark…” The priest welcomed me, asked how my trip was going, was very pleasant - but he didn’t tell me his name.
The next day I went back. There was a different priest. At the end of the service, same thing: I greeted the priest, and told him my name and where I was from. This priest did the same thing – once again very nice, cordial – but he didn’t tell me his name.
The third day I went back and it was the priest from the first day. As I was leaving, I reintroduced myself, telling him my name again. And once again he didn’t tell me his name!
Now, I don’t want to make too much of these incidents. But it really bugged me that I told these priests my name and they wouldn’t tell me theirs. The fact that this bothered me so much tells me that maybe our names are a big deal and maybe choosing to reveal our names is a bigger deal than I had thought.
And if our names are important, just how much more important must be the name of Jesus?
I never really gave much thought to the name of Jesus until I arrived at General Seminary four years ago. Remember, I grew up Roman Catholic in the 1970s and 1980s – the age of a simplified, folk music liturgy, the age of guitar-playing nuns leading us in song, the age of “Kumbaya”. Jesus was depicted as our groovy, bearded, sandal-wearing friend. It’s easy to make fun of now, but in a lot of ways it was a great time, and I think many of us felt close to Jesus, but we didn’t exactly show reverence to Jesus or his Name. And we certainly didn’t bow our heads whenever the Holy Name of Jesus was mentioned!
In fact it wasn’t until I went to General Seminary that I regularly saw people bowing their heads in the chapel whenever Jesus’ name was mentioned. At first, to be honest, I thought this was a kind of silly overly-pious affectation. But the more I thought about it, I came to see the bowing as a sign, as a physical reminder that, in the case of Jesus of Nazareth, the once relatively common name of “Jesus” is holy – it is other, it is higher than all other names because Jesus himself is holy, Jesus is the revelation of God, God made flesh.
And so today, the Feast of the Holy Name is Christmas, continued. In Christmas we celebrate the revelation of God in this child named Jesus who is our savior and deliverer.
And Christmas is really part of a long story stretching all the way back to Moses on Mt. Sinai. Christmas is part of a story of God reaching out to men and women, revealing God’s self to us, letting us know what God expects of us and how much God loves us.
God reveals God’s self to Moses and on Christmas God reveals God’s self once and for all in the savior named Jesus.
Our job today - no matter how bleary-eyed we are - is to take a moment and give thanks for the Holy Name of Jesus. And then we are to go out and live lives that reveal God’s presence and love to the world.
Now it’s our turn to be part of Christmas, continued.
Amen.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Christmas Gifts in Unexpected Places
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
December 25, 2008
Year B: The Nativity of Our Lord
Isaiah 62: 6-7, 10-12
Titus 3: 4-7
Luke 2: 1-20
Christmas Gifts in Unexpected Places
So, how’s everyone’s Christmas been so far? Pretty good? Last night both services here were wonderful, despite the rainy weather.
I guess for many of us here it’s been pretty much like other Christmases. I guess most people have their own ways of doing Christmas. Some people come to church on Christmas Eve and then go home and maybe open a present or two and then it’s off to bed to wait for Santa.
Other people, I guess like a lot of us here this morning, get up early, maybe open up presents under the tree, go to church and then go off and be with families and friends. Each Christmas many of us cook and eat the same foods, we sing the same songs, and we carefully place the same ornaments on the Christmas tree.
So, of course, many of us have our Christmas traditions. You might even call them routines. And, let’s face it, most of us like our routines. We like our ways of doing things. We like things to be familiar. And that’s good, mostly.
Looking back, when I was growing up my family was pretty normal when it came to Christmas. Like most other people, we had our own traditions, our own familiar Christmas routines. One routine in particular sticks out in my memory. And it’s a routine that, looking back on it, probably drove my parents a little crazy.
Each year when my sister and I were little we would get up very, very early on Christmas morning and go to the living room to see the gifts that Santa had left for us under the tree. So each year, while it was still dark out, my sister and I would go through packages, opening up boxes and playing with our toys. This was our routine, it was familiar. My bleary-eyed parents would come downstairs and sit with us and ooh and ah at our gifts. Anybody else have a routine like this?
One year, though, for some reason my comfortable, familiar routine was changed. I’ll never forget it. Now I know, of course, we only have good children here at Grace. But, I’m sure sometimes parents here have warned kids that if they’re bad they won’t get any Christmas presents. Or maybe if they’re bad they’ll just get a bag of coal.
Now, I know you’ll find this hard to believe, but my parents used to say things like that to me! But, I never really believed it would happen, because each year, even if I hadn’t always been nice to my sister, or hadn’t cleaned up my room, or hadn’t done my homework, each year there were always gifts for me under the tree. But, I have to admit, although I didn’t think it would ever really happen, the remote possibility of no gifts for Christmas was always in the back of my mind.
Well, anyway, this one year I came downstairs in the dark hours of the early morning. Maybe my sister was still a baby, because I think I was alone. I came into the dark living room, my heart pounding with excitement. I turned on the lights. And I stood in shock and horror. There was nothing under the tree. The nightmare had come true!
What happened next is embarrassing. Since it is Christmas morning and we’re in church, let’s just say I “got sick.”
I guess my parents heard all the commotion and came downstairs to see what was going on. They took me by the shoulders, turned me a little, and showed me my gifts.
It turned out that for whatever reason this year my gifts were not in their usual place. Instead, they were just a few feet off to the side. But because, even as a little kid, I was so used to my familiar routine I had managed not to see the gifts that were waiting for me the whole time, just a little off to the side. It was like I was wearing blinders!
As a kid I learned the lesson “don’t panic, things may not be as bad as they seem.” But now as an adult looking back on that experience I realize that as much as we like familiarity, familiarity can be dangerous. Familiarity can prevent us from really seeing things. Familiarity can sometimes blind us to the gifts that we are being given in unexpected places.
The English writer from a century ago, G.K. Chesterton, once said, “The greatest of all illusions is the illusion of familiarity.” “The greatest of all illusions is the illusion of familiarity.”
Children can get caught up in familiar routines, but I suspect adults are much more susceptible to the illusion of familiarity. But if we really stop and reflect on it, what seems to be most familiar turns out to be the most wonderful, amazing, exciting gift.
Being wrapped up in our own familiar routines we can easily miss the gifts we are given in unexpected places.
And sometimes, like what happened to me long ago, our familiar routines get interrupted. And for many of us that’s happened this Christmas or in past Christmases. Some of us have lost beloved family members and friends. Some of us have lost jobs or worry if we will keep our jobs in the new year. For many of us anxiety and sadness have overshadowed or interrupted our familiar Christmas routines.
And, to say the least, this overshadowing or interruption can definitely be upsetting. But I believe that this overshadowing or interruption also offers us an opportunity to recover our sense of awe and wonder.
This interruption of the familiar just might make us open to receive the gifts we are being given in unexpected places.
In today’s gospel lesson, Mary is the ultimate model for us on how to recover our sense of awe and wonder. Obviously, there’s nothing familiar or routine about what’s happening to Mary. She is in the midst of the most extraordinary events. Nine months earlier an angel had greeted her with the news that, if she said yes, she would give birth to the Son of God.
And now she has received this most unlikely gift in a most unexpected place, and, on top of all that, Luke tells us, she been visited by shepherds who report an encounter with an angel and “a multitude of the heavenly host.”
And what’s Mary’s response to these extraordinary events? Luke says the people around Mary were “amazed” - which seems like a nice way of saying they all thought the shepherds were crazy. But, what’s Mary’s response? Luke writes, “Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.”
For most of us here, two thousand years later, what seemed amazing to the people around Mary is all too familiar. I guess the Christmas story is the most familiar story of all.
But if we follow Mary’s example and really treasure these words and ponder them in our hearts maybe this old familiar story can come alive with awe and wonder once again.
In thinking and praying about today’s sermon, I’ve been reminded of a sermon that Lauren gave a few weeks ago. In her sermon Lauren noted that because of the economy many of us are feeling more anxious and insecure than usual. In a sense, our familiar routines have been interrupted. But, her key point was that in the future we should remember what this anxiety and insecurity feels like because that’s how most people around the world feel most of the time. Our anxiety and insecurity can make us one with the anxious and insecure people all around the world.
I found an unexpected Christmas gift in that sermon from weeks ago.
Yes, the Christmas story is the most familiar of all. Yet, if we really ponder this story in our hearts, the unexpected gift we receive on Christmas is Jesus – fully human and fully divine.
The unexpected gift that Mary pondered in her heart so long ago was that in Jesus the God of the universe experiences what it’s like to be one of us. In Jesus, God experiences what it’s like to be a human being. In that helpless, stinky baby wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger, God experiences the helplessness we all experienced as babies – the crying out for food and milk – the complete dependence on others.
In Jesus, God experiences what it’s like to work with one’s hands, to have friends, to celebrate at a wedding, to give someone a hug, to laugh at a joke.
In Jesus, God experiences what it’s like to weep at the death of a friend, to be afraid about the future, and to be betrayed and abandoned.
And so, just as you and I need to hold on to our current experience of anxiety and insecurity to be one with the anxious and insecure people of the world, God holds on to the experience of being human and has become one with us in Jesus.
In Jesus, God really knows what it’s like to be a human being.
And in Jesus we know what God is really like.
So, when we are celebrating and joyful we are not alone - God is right there with us and God knows exactly how we feel.
So, when we are anxious and frightened we are not alone - God is right there with us and God knows exactly how we feel.
Let’s use the opportunity of this unfamiliar Christmas. Let’s recover our sense of awe and wonder. Let’s keep our eyes open and find the gifts that God gives us – gifts that we often find in unexpected places. Let’s help one another find those gifts. And, most of all, let’s ponder in our hearts the greatest and most unexpected gift of all – the gift of Jesus.
Amen.
December 25, 2008
Year B: The Nativity of Our Lord
Isaiah 62: 6-7, 10-12
Titus 3: 4-7
Luke 2: 1-20
Christmas Gifts in Unexpected Places
So, how’s everyone’s Christmas been so far? Pretty good? Last night both services here were wonderful, despite the rainy weather.
I guess for many of us here it’s been pretty much like other Christmases. I guess most people have their own ways of doing Christmas. Some people come to church on Christmas Eve and then go home and maybe open a present or two and then it’s off to bed to wait for Santa.
Other people, I guess like a lot of us here this morning, get up early, maybe open up presents under the tree, go to church and then go off and be with families and friends. Each Christmas many of us cook and eat the same foods, we sing the same songs, and we carefully place the same ornaments on the Christmas tree.
So, of course, many of us have our Christmas traditions. You might even call them routines. And, let’s face it, most of us like our routines. We like our ways of doing things. We like things to be familiar. And that’s good, mostly.
Looking back, when I was growing up my family was pretty normal when it came to Christmas. Like most other people, we had our own traditions, our own familiar Christmas routines. One routine in particular sticks out in my memory. And it’s a routine that, looking back on it, probably drove my parents a little crazy.
Each year when my sister and I were little we would get up very, very early on Christmas morning and go to the living room to see the gifts that Santa had left for us under the tree. So each year, while it was still dark out, my sister and I would go through packages, opening up boxes and playing with our toys. This was our routine, it was familiar. My bleary-eyed parents would come downstairs and sit with us and ooh and ah at our gifts. Anybody else have a routine like this?
One year, though, for some reason my comfortable, familiar routine was changed. I’ll never forget it. Now I know, of course, we only have good children here at Grace. But, I’m sure sometimes parents here have warned kids that if they’re bad they won’t get any Christmas presents. Or maybe if they’re bad they’ll just get a bag of coal.
Now, I know you’ll find this hard to believe, but my parents used to say things like that to me! But, I never really believed it would happen, because each year, even if I hadn’t always been nice to my sister, or hadn’t cleaned up my room, or hadn’t done my homework, each year there were always gifts for me under the tree. But, I have to admit, although I didn’t think it would ever really happen, the remote possibility of no gifts for Christmas was always in the back of my mind.
Well, anyway, this one year I came downstairs in the dark hours of the early morning. Maybe my sister was still a baby, because I think I was alone. I came into the dark living room, my heart pounding with excitement. I turned on the lights. And I stood in shock and horror. There was nothing under the tree. The nightmare had come true!
What happened next is embarrassing. Since it is Christmas morning and we’re in church, let’s just say I “got sick.”
I guess my parents heard all the commotion and came downstairs to see what was going on. They took me by the shoulders, turned me a little, and showed me my gifts.
It turned out that for whatever reason this year my gifts were not in their usual place. Instead, they were just a few feet off to the side. But because, even as a little kid, I was so used to my familiar routine I had managed not to see the gifts that were waiting for me the whole time, just a little off to the side. It was like I was wearing blinders!
As a kid I learned the lesson “don’t panic, things may not be as bad as they seem.” But now as an adult looking back on that experience I realize that as much as we like familiarity, familiarity can be dangerous. Familiarity can prevent us from really seeing things. Familiarity can sometimes blind us to the gifts that we are being given in unexpected places.
The English writer from a century ago, G.K. Chesterton, once said, “The greatest of all illusions is the illusion of familiarity.” “The greatest of all illusions is the illusion of familiarity.”
Children can get caught up in familiar routines, but I suspect adults are much more susceptible to the illusion of familiarity. But if we really stop and reflect on it, what seems to be most familiar turns out to be the most wonderful, amazing, exciting gift.
Being wrapped up in our own familiar routines we can easily miss the gifts we are given in unexpected places.
And sometimes, like what happened to me long ago, our familiar routines get interrupted. And for many of us that’s happened this Christmas or in past Christmases. Some of us have lost beloved family members and friends. Some of us have lost jobs or worry if we will keep our jobs in the new year. For many of us anxiety and sadness have overshadowed or interrupted our familiar Christmas routines.
And, to say the least, this overshadowing or interruption can definitely be upsetting. But I believe that this overshadowing or interruption also offers us an opportunity to recover our sense of awe and wonder.
This interruption of the familiar just might make us open to receive the gifts we are being given in unexpected places.
In today’s gospel lesson, Mary is the ultimate model for us on how to recover our sense of awe and wonder. Obviously, there’s nothing familiar or routine about what’s happening to Mary. She is in the midst of the most extraordinary events. Nine months earlier an angel had greeted her with the news that, if she said yes, she would give birth to the Son of God.
And now she has received this most unlikely gift in a most unexpected place, and, on top of all that, Luke tells us, she been visited by shepherds who report an encounter with an angel and “a multitude of the heavenly host.”
And what’s Mary’s response to these extraordinary events? Luke says the people around Mary were “amazed” - which seems like a nice way of saying they all thought the shepherds were crazy. But, what’s Mary’s response? Luke writes, “Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.”
For most of us here, two thousand years later, what seemed amazing to the people around Mary is all too familiar. I guess the Christmas story is the most familiar story of all.
But if we follow Mary’s example and really treasure these words and ponder them in our hearts maybe this old familiar story can come alive with awe and wonder once again.
In thinking and praying about today’s sermon, I’ve been reminded of a sermon that Lauren gave a few weeks ago. In her sermon Lauren noted that because of the economy many of us are feeling more anxious and insecure than usual. In a sense, our familiar routines have been interrupted. But, her key point was that in the future we should remember what this anxiety and insecurity feels like because that’s how most people around the world feel most of the time. Our anxiety and insecurity can make us one with the anxious and insecure people all around the world.
I found an unexpected Christmas gift in that sermon from weeks ago.
Yes, the Christmas story is the most familiar of all. Yet, if we really ponder this story in our hearts, the unexpected gift we receive on Christmas is Jesus – fully human and fully divine.
The unexpected gift that Mary pondered in her heart so long ago was that in Jesus the God of the universe experiences what it’s like to be one of us. In Jesus, God experiences what it’s like to be a human being. In that helpless, stinky baby wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger, God experiences the helplessness we all experienced as babies – the crying out for food and milk – the complete dependence on others.
In Jesus, God experiences what it’s like to work with one’s hands, to have friends, to celebrate at a wedding, to give someone a hug, to laugh at a joke.
In Jesus, God experiences what it’s like to weep at the death of a friend, to be afraid about the future, and to be betrayed and abandoned.
And so, just as you and I need to hold on to our current experience of anxiety and insecurity to be one with the anxious and insecure people of the world, God holds on to the experience of being human and has become one with us in Jesus.
In Jesus, God really knows what it’s like to be a human being.
And in Jesus we know what God is really like.
So, when we are celebrating and joyful we are not alone - God is right there with us and God knows exactly how we feel.
So, when we are anxious and frightened we are not alone - God is right there with us and God knows exactly how we feel.
Let’s use the opportunity of this unfamiliar Christmas. Let’s recover our sense of awe and wonder. Let’s keep our eyes open and find the gifts that God gives us – gifts that we often find in unexpected places. Let’s help one another find those gifts. And, most of all, let’s ponder in our hearts the greatest and most unexpected gift of all – the gift of Jesus.
Amen.
Sunday, December 07, 2008
Metanoia
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
December 7, 2008
Year B: The Second Sunday of Advent
Isaiah 40:1-11
Psalm 85:1-2, 8-13
(2 Peter 3:8-15a)
Mark 1: 1-8
Metanoia
On this second Sunday of Advent we are reintroduced to John the Baptist in the Gospel of Mark – which most scholars think is the earliest of the four gospels, and is certainly the most barebones.
Truthfully, Mark isn’t very interested in John the Baptizer, as he calls him. Mark is really only interested in telling us about the life, ministry and meaning of Jesus Christ. So, Mark begins his gospel with the seemingly simple words, “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.”
This may be the beginning of the good news, but Mark is clear that the good news of Jesus Christ is what people had been awaiting for centuries. And so, in his gospel Mark immediately looks back into the Hebrew Scriptures and quotes from the prophet Isaiah. Actually, to be accurate, Mark includes verses from the Prophet Malachi and the Book of Exodus, along with Isaiah.
With a few quick quotes Mark economically reminds us that for centuries God had inspired prophets to call for repentance, and to point ahead to the Holy One who was to come.
And then Mark quickly introduces John the Baptist, not with much back story, but simply as the last in this long line of prophets: “John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” Like so many of the prophets before him, John calls for repentance.
And like so many of the prophets before him John points ahead to the Holy One, the Messiah, who was to come. John says to the people, this baptism with water that I’m giving you is nothing compared with what the Messiah will give you – baptism with the Holy Spirit.
Now at this point, even for those of us who take Advent seriously, it’s tempting to get ahead of ourselves – to jump ahead to Christmas and the birth of the Messiah who baptizes us with the Holy Spirit. After all, let’s be honest, we know what happens next. We know the rest of the story – we know Jesus has already come and lived among us. We know the birth, we know the teaching, we know the death, and we know the resurrection. We know all this. But since Advent really is a season to be mindful, to pay attention, we need to resist the temptation to skip ahead to Christmas.
So, since we’re not going to skip ahead, what might John the Baptist have to say for us today? What might John the Baptist have to say to us – to people who know the rest of the story, to people who already know Jesus, to people who have already been baptized with water and the Holy Spirit?
John’s message is as timely for us as it was for the people of the First Century who came to be baptized in the River Jordan. We are called to repentance. And we are called to live in a way that our very lives point to Jesus – the messiah who has already come and continues to live among us.
In the gospels, it’s the Greek word metanoia that is translated as repentance. But metanoia means more than just repentance, it means changing one’s mind. That’s an expression we use a lot more than repentance, isn’t it? In fact, we’ve probably cheapened it a little bit with overuse. In fact, I’m sure you’ve heard people say things like, “You know, I changed my mind and decided to buy that beautiful basket at the 10,000 Villages fair after all”?
But, when you think of it, really changing your mind is something very deep, isn’t it? To change our mind means to radically revise the way see the world, to radically reorder our priorities.
Maybe instead of “change of mind” we should say something that we don’t say quite as often, something that sounds deeper. Maybe we should say “change of heart’.
That’s what the prophets called for. That’s what John the Baptist was preaching to those people who came to him for baptism He was calling them to change their minds, to change their hearts. When they came up out of the water they were to be radically changed, to be transformed - to have a change of heart. They – and we – are called to have a change of heart so that our very lives point to Jesus, the Holy One who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.
Now, I don’t know, maybe all this talk of metanoia - all this talk of a change of heart - sounds a little pie-in-the-sky. But, actually, if we allow God in to change our hearts, if we allow our lives to point to Jesus, then the consequences are very concrete and practical.
Here’s a quote attributed to Pedro Arrupe, who was the leader of the Jesuits from 1965 to 1983. I think he powerfully sums up the powerful effects of metanoia, the powerful effects of a change of heart. He says:
“Nothing is more practical than finding God, that is, than falling in love in a quite absolute, final way. What you are in love with, what seizes your imagination, will affect everything. It will decide what will get you out of bed in the morning, what you will do with your evenings, how you will spend your weekends, what you read, who you know, what breaks your heart, and what amazes you with joy and gratitude. Fall in love, stay in love, and it will decide everything.”
Now, that’s metanoia, that’s a change of heart. That’s what John the Baptist was talking about out in the wilderness and that’s the message for us today. Open ourselves up to metanoia, open ourselves to a change of heart, allow our very lives to point to Jesus.
In her sermon last week, Lauren noted that the Church is counter-cultural. While the rest of society has long-since moved on to Christmas, we insist on this quiet time of prayer and mindfulness, Advent.
And if we continue to open ourselves up to change of heart then we will become more and more counter-cultural.
Let’s think about the so-called Christmas season. This is a time of year when our culture whips us into such frenzy with talk about “Black Friday” that 2,000 ordinary people could gather in the early morning hours outside a Wal-Mart on Long Island and, when the doors opened (at 5:00AM), horrifically trample a Wal-Mart employee to death.
Now, you and I may not have been waiting outside of Wal-Mart in the early morning, but, let’s be honest, most of us do get caught up in the materialistic frenzy of this “season.” That’s the message of the culture we live in: buy more, get the bargain, and don’t worry about the consequences. Just get it – and then you’ll be happy.
If we are to have metanoia, a change of heart, then we are going to be counter-cultural. There’s a group that was started about four years ago called “The Advent Conspiracy.” On their website they describe a conspiracy that stands up to our culture with four parts: worship fully, spend less, give more, love all.
Now that’s counter-cultural! Worship fully, spend less, give more, love all. That’s really opening ourselves up to a change of heart.
So what would an “advent conspiracy” look like around here? What would metanoia look like around here? What would a change of heart look like around here? How could we live so our lives point to Jesus?
Well, if we really open up ourselves to a change of heart, then church will be a top priority – being here for worship, inviting others to join us, giving to the church in a way that’s a real sacrifice.
If we really open up ourselves to a change of heart, maybe instead of buying some unimaginative Christmas gift, after this service we’ll fill out one of the outreach gift certificates and give a gift to a worthy cause in honor of one of our friends or relatives – a gift far better than any sweater.
If we really open up ourselves to a change of heart, the “Food for Friends” barrel right over there in the chapel will be overflowing week after week and Kit Cone will get tired of making the trip to Dover to deliver our donations.
If we really open up ourselves to a change of heart, then every line on our soup kitchen sign-up sheet will be filled and Marge Paul will wonder what is she going to do with all this food and all these volunteers.
That’s what a change of heart looks like.
And 2000 years ago on the banks of the River Jordan, John the Baptist called on the people to metanoia, to repent, to have a change of heart. And all these years later, you and I who have been baptized with water and the Holy Spirit are also called to have metanoia, to repent, to have a change of heart. We are called to make our very lives point to Jesus.
How we answer that call will decide everything.
Amen.
December 7, 2008
Year B: The Second Sunday of Advent
Isaiah 40:1-11
Psalm 85:1-2, 8-13
(2 Peter 3:8-15a)
Mark 1: 1-8
Metanoia
On this second Sunday of Advent we are reintroduced to John the Baptist in the Gospel of Mark – which most scholars think is the earliest of the four gospels, and is certainly the most barebones.
Truthfully, Mark isn’t very interested in John the Baptizer, as he calls him. Mark is really only interested in telling us about the life, ministry and meaning of Jesus Christ. So, Mark begins his gospel with the seemingly simple words, “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.”
This may be the beginning of the good news, but Mark is clear that the good news of Jesus Christ is what people had been awaiting for centuries. And so, in his gospel Mark immediately looks back into the Hebrew Scriptures and quotes from the prophet Isaiah. Actually, to be accurate, Mark includes verses from the Prophet Malachi and the Book of Exodus, along with Isaiah.
With a few quick quotes Mark economically reminds us that for centuries God had inspired prophets to call for repentance, and to point ahead to the Holy One who was to come.
And then Mark quickly introduces John the Baptist, not with much back story, but simply as the last in this long line of prophets: “John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” Like so many of the prophets before him, John calls for repentance.
And like so many of the prophets before him John points ahead to the Holy One, the Messiah, who was to come. John says to the people, this baptism with water that I’m giving you is nothing compared with what the Messiah will give you – baptism with the Holy Spirit.
Now at this point, even for those of us who take Advent seriously, it’s tempting to get ahead of ourselves – to jump ahead to Christmas and the birth of the Messiah who baptizes us with the Holy Spirit. After all, let’s be honest, we know what happens next. We know the rest of the story – we know Jesus has already come and lived among us. We know the birth, we know the teaching, we know the death, and we know the resurrection. We know all this. But since Advent really is a season to be mindful, to pay attention, we need to resist the temptation to skip ahead to Christmas.
So, since we’re not going to skip ahead, what might John the Baptist have to say for us today? What might John the Baptist have to say to us – to people who know the rest of the story, to people who already know Jesus, to people who have already been baptized with water and the Holy Spirit?
John’s message is as timely for us as it was for the people of the First Century who came to be baptized in the River Jordan. We are called to repentance. And we are called to live in a way that our very lives point to Jesus – the messiah who has already come and continues to live among us.
In the gospels, it’s the Greek word metanoia that is translated as repentance. But metanoia means more than just repentance, it means changing one’s mind. That’s an expression we use a lot more than repentance, isn’t it? In fact, we’ve probably cheapened it a little bit with overuse. In fact, I’m sure you’ve heard people say things like, “You know, I changed my mind and decided to buy that beautiful basket at the 10,000 Villages fair after all”?
But, when you think of it, really changing your mind is something very deep, isn’t it? To change our mind means to radically revise the way see the world, to radically reorder our priorities.
Maybe instead of “change of mind” we should say something that we don’t say quite as often, something that sounds deeper. Maybe we should say “change of heart’.
That’s what the prophets called for. That’s what John the Baptist was preaching to those people who came to him for baptism He was calling them to change their minds, to change their hearts. When they came up out of the water they were to be radically changed, to be transformed - to have a change of heart. They – and we – are called to have a change of heart so that our very lives point to Jesus, the Holy One who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.
Now, I don’t know, maybe all this talk of metanoia - all this talk of a change of heart - sounds a little pie-in-the-sky. But, actually, if we allow God in to change our hearts, if we allow our lives to point to Jesus, then the consequences are very concrete and practical.
Here’s a quote attributed to Pedro Arrupe, who was the leader of the Jesuits from 1965 to 1983. I think he powerfully sums up the powerful effects of metanoia, the powerful effects of a change of heart. He says:
“Nothing is more practical than finding God, that is, than falling in love in a quite absolute, final way. What you are in love with, what seizes your imagination, will affect everything. It will decide what will get you out of bed in the morning, what you will do with your evenings, how you will spend your weekends, what you read, who you know, what breaks your heart, and what amazes you with joy and gratitude. Fall in love, stay in love, and it will decide everything.”
Now, that’s metanoia, that’s a change of heart. That’s what John the Baptist was talking about out in the wilderness and that’s the message for us today. Open ourselves up to metanoia, open ourselves to a change of heart, allow our very lives to point to Jesus.
In her sermon last week, Lauren noted that the Church is counter-cultural. While the rest of society has long-since moved on to Christmas, we insist on this quiet time of prayer and mindfulness, Advent.
And if we continue to open ourselves up to change of heart then we will become more and more counter-cultural.
Let’s think about the so-called Christmas season. This is a time of year when our culture whips us into such frenzy with talk about “Black Friday” that 2,000 ordinary people could gather in the early morning hours outside a Wal-Mart on Long Island and, when the doors opened (at 5:00AM), horrifically trample a Wal-Mart employee to death.
Now, you and I may not have been waiting outside of Wal-Mart in the early morning, but, let’s be honest, most of us do get caught up in the materialistic frenzy of this “season.” That’s the message of the culture we live in: buy more, get the bargain, and don’t worry about the consequences. Just get it – and then you’ll be happy.
If we are to have metanoia, a change of heart, then we are going to be counter-cultural. There’s a group that was started about four years ago called “The Advent Conspiracy.” On their website they describe a conspiracy that stands up to our culture with four parts: worship fully, spend less, give more, love all.
Now that’s counter-cultural! Worship fully, spend less, give more, love all. That’s really opening ourselves up to a change of heart.
So what would an “advent conspiracy” look like around here? What would metanoia look like around here? What would a change of heart look like around here? How could we live so our lives point to Jesus?
Well, if we really open up ourselves to a change of heart, then church will be a top priority – being here for worship, inviting others to join us, giving to the church in a way that’s a real sacrifice.
If we really open up ourselves to a change of heart, maybe instead of buying some unimaginative Christmas gift, after this service we’ll fill out one of the outreach gift certificates and give a gift to a worthy cause in honor of one of our friends or relatives – a gift far better than any sweater.
If we really open up ourselves to a change of heart, the “Food for Friends” barrel right over there in the chapel will be overflowing week after week and Kit Cone will get tired of making the trip to Dover to deliver our donations.
If we really open up ourselves to a change of heart, then every line on our soup kitchen sign-up sheet will be filled and Marge Paul will wonder what is she going to do with all this food and all these volunteers.
That’s what a change of heart looks like.
And 2000 years ago on the banks of the River Jordan, John the Baptist called on the people to metanoia, to repent, to have a change of heart. And all these years later, you and I who have been baptized with water and the Holy Spirit are also called to have metanoia, to repent, to have a change of heart. We are called to make our very lives point to Jesus.
How we answer that call will decide everything.
Amen.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Advent: A Call to Mindfulness
The Messenger
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
December 2008
Advent: A Call to Mindfulness
Recently I was interviewed by a writer from our diocesan newspaper, The Voice, for an article about the ordination process in our diocese. My experience of “the process” was generally positive, but as I reflected back, I realized how much of that time I spent thinking about the future rather than living in the moment. From the day I met with my home parish rector to talk about my sense of call to the priesthood I began a long period of nervous wondering about the future…
Would I be accepted into the process? Would I fit in at seminary? What kind of grades would I get? Would I be made a postulant and later a candidate? Would I be ordained? And lingering behind all these questions were two really big questions: Would I get a job? And if I did, where would I be working?
Eventually, of course, all those questions and more were answered. But as I think back I feel some regret because my relentlessly anxious focus on the future meant that I missed out on truly being present during those important and once in a lifetime years. Missing from my life during much of that time was a sense of mindfulness.
Few have written as effectively about mindfulness as the Vietnamese Buddhist monk, Thich Nhat Hanh. In his teaching he has stressed the central importance of mindfulness – being aware of the miracles that occur with every breath that we take. I suspect most of us are not very good at mindfulness. Instead, we are usually thinking ahead to the next item on our to-do list. But Thich Nhat Hanh, along with many other spiritual masters, insists that we must pay attention and see the beauty in such seemingly ordinary events as eating a meal, washing dishes, taking a walk, or even simply breathing.
In his book Peace is Every Step, Thich Nhat Hanh sees the Eucharist as a powerful act of mindfulness. He writes, “The practice of the Eucharist is a practice of awareness. When Jesus broke the bread and shared it with his disciples, he said, ‘Eat this. This is my flesh.’ He knew that if his disciples would eat one piece of bread in mindfulness, they would have real life.”
In our society it’s a real challenge to live mindfully. For many of us, life is extremely fast-paced. We have so little time to reflect, to be mindful, or even to take a breath. And many of us who do have the time are filled with anxieties surrounding the economy, the election, the environment… And the media seem to be in the business of keeping us anxious. A while back I visited someone and one of the cable business news channels was on the TV. Hearing the frenzied reports accompanied by dramatic music, I could feel my anxiety level rising. Lately I haven’t been watching much TV, so maybe I’m more sensitive to it – but I’m pretty sure that TV is not much help if we hope to live mindfully.
Sometimes even the Church can be a challenge to living mindfully. Many of us have watched with excitement and wonder as the new parish hall has grown from an idea on paper to a concrete and steel reality. Over these months of construction and anticipation, I wonder if we have been mindful enough of the miracle of the present. At the same time, in the midst of an economic crisis there is anxiety about stewardship – will Grace Church be able to provide the same level of ministry as we have in the past? In a time of obvious uncertainty, have we been mindfully keeping an eye out for the miracles that are occurring right here and now in the present?
Fortunately, the Church also offers us many opportunities to be mindful. Our Christmas-shopping-crazy society works against it, but in a very real way, Advent is the season of mindfulness – when we are called to slow down and mindfully prepare for the coming of Jesus at Christmas and also for the Second Coming of Christ at the Last Day.
So let’s consider Advent our special call to live more mindfully, to breathe a little slower and deeper, to keep our eyes open for the miracles all around us each day of our lives, and to open our hearts to the greatest of all gifts, Jesus Christ.
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
December 2008
Advent: A Call to Mindfulness
Recently I was interviewed by a writer from our diocesan newspaper, The Voice, for an article about the ordination process in our diocese. My experience of “the process” was generally positive, but as I reflected back, I realized how much of that time I spent thinking about the future rather than living in the moment. From the day I met with my home parish rector to talk about my sense of call to the priesthood I began a long period of nervous wondering about the future…
Would I be accepted into the process? Would I fit in at seminary? What kind of grades would I get? Would I be made a postulant and later a candidate? Would I be ordained? And lingering behind all these questions were two really big questions: Would I get a job? And if I did, where would I be working?
Eventually, of course, all those questions and more were answered. But as I think back I feel some regret because my relentlessly anxious focus on the future meant that I missed out on truly being present during those important and once in a lifetime years. Missing from my life during much of that time was a sense of mindfulness.
Few have written as effectively about mindfulness as the Vietnamese Buddhist monk, Thich Nhat Hanh. In his teaching he has stressed the central importance of mindfulness – being aware of the miracles that occur with every breath that we take. I suspect most of us are not very good at mindfulness. Instead, we are usually thinking ahead to the next item on our to-do list. But Thich Nhat Hanh, along with many other spiritual masters, insists that we must pay attention and see the beauty in such seemingly ordinary events as eating a meal, washing dishes, taking a walk, or even simply breathing.
In his book Peace is Every Step, Thich Nhat Hanh sees the Eucharist as a powerful act of mindfulness. He writes, “The practice of the Eucharist is a practice of awareness. When Jesus broke the bread and shared it with his disciples, he said, ‘Eat this. This is my flesh.’ He knew that if his disciples would eat one piece of bread in mindfulness, they would have real life.”
In our society it’s a real challenge to live mindfully. For many of us, life is extremely fast-paced. We have so little time to reflect, to be mindful, or even to take a breath. And many of us who do have the time are filled with anxieties surrounding the economy, the election, the environment… And the media seem to be in the business of keeping us anxious. A while back I visited someone and one of the cable business news channels was on the TV. Hearing the frenzied reports accompanied by dramatic music, I could feel my anxiety level rising. Lately I haven’t been watching much TV, so maybe I’m more sensitive to it – but I’m pretty sure that TV is not much help if we hope to live mindfully.
Sometimes even the Church can be a challenge to living mindfully. Many of us have watched with excitement and wonder as the new parish hall has grown from an idea on paper to a concrete and steel reality. Over these months of construction and anticipation, I wonder if we have been mindful enough of the miracle of the present. At the same time, in the midst of an economic crisis there is anxiety about stewardship – will Grace Church be able to provide the same level of ministry as we have in the past? In a time of obvious uncertainty, have we been mindfully keeping an eye out for the miracles that are occurring right here and now in the present?
Fortunately, the Church also offers us many opportunities to be mindful. Our Christmas-shopping-crazy society works against it, but in a very real way, Advent is the season of mindfulness – when we are called to slow down and mindfully prepare for the coming of Jesus at Christmas and also for the Second Coming of Christ at the Last Day.
So let’s consider Advent our special call to live more mindfully, to breathe a little slower and deeper, to keep our eyes open for the miracles all around us each day of our lives, and to open our hearts to the greatest of all gifts, Jesus Christ.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Reminders to be Mindful
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
November 23, 2008
Year A: The Last Sunday after Pentecost – Christ the King
Ezekiel 34:11-16, 20-24
Psalm 100
(Ephesians 1:15-23)
Matthew 25:31-46
Reminders to be Mindful
Since lately life has been really busy, I’ve been making an extra effort to live mindfully. I’ve been trying to live more in the present and not be so concerned with the future – or so concerned with the past for that matter.
I’ve been trying to pay extra attention to what’s going on around me. And I’ve been trying to notice and give thanks for the simple joys of life – a quiet dinner with Sue, a good laugh with friends and colleagues. I’ve been trying to be mindful, but, to be honest, it’s not easy.
Living a life of mindfulness – a life of really paying attention to the present moment – is not easy under the best of circumstances. And, of course, many of us are not living in the best of circumstances right now. Many of us have watched with astonishment as so much wealth seems to have evaporated. There’s a lot of anxiety about the future and probably some regret about the choices made in the past.
Anxiety about the future and regret about the past – a bad combination and not very helpful to living mindfully in the moment.
And, unfortunately, sometimes even church doesn’t help us live mindfully. Even the church is affected by the anxieties of the world – will we be able to afford all that we hope to do? What will stewardship look like this year? If we need to, where will we cut the budget?
And sometimes even the Sunday Scripture lessons don’t seem to offer much help with living mindfully. I was very glad that Dan Lawson and Tim Barrett were given the assignment last Sunday of preaching on the parable of the talents – a parable that isn’t really very clear and, in some interpretations, a parable that is downright disturbing. And, it’s a parable that, at least for me, is not much help with lessening my anxieties and living mindfully in the present.
And then today we come to the last Sunday after Pentecost, the last Sunday of the church year, the Sunday that we honor Christ the King.
Can “Christ the King” help us live more mindfully – to lessen our anxieties – to open our eyes to the blessings and opportunities that are all around us?
There’s some irony in the title Christ the King, isn’t there? After all, Jesus was not exactly the kind of king that the world expected in the first century – or, I guess, not even the type of king the world expects today.
Back in the First Century there were lots of ideas about the Messiah-King but one of the most popular, naturally enough, was the expectation of a king who would defeat the Romans and restore the mighty Jewish kingdom of David. Christ the King didn’t fulfill that expectation at all.
And today in the 21st Century, we still have kings. I guess most are viewed as romantic or nostalgic or tabloid fodder or just foolish and expensive holdovers from an earlier era. Have any of you been watching the series “Monarchy,” the series about the British royal family, on PBS? It’s interesting and well done and I admit to a soft spot for Queen Elizabeth – I mean, she’s been doing the same job since 1952 and shows no signs of slowing down! But I wonder how being royalty affects a person’s psyche? What’s it like having people bow to you, or curtsey or address you as “Your Majesty” or “Your Highness?” I don’t know whether it’s true but I’ve read stories that Prince Charles has someone squeeze toothpaste onto his toothbrush – imagine having that job! And imagine being used to that kind of luxury and service!
So, by the extravagant standard of 21st Century monarchy, Christ the King isn’t much of a king at all.
So, just what kind of king is Christ the King? Jesus lays it out very clearly in today’s gospel. Christ the King is the king who stands with those who hunger and thirst. Christ the King is the king who stands with the stranger, the naked, the sick and the imprisoned. Christ the King is the king who stands with the nobodies. Christ the King is the king who stands with those who are easy to ignore, those who are easy for society to throw away.
Christ the King stands so closely with the least and the lowly that when we serve them we serve him.
And the Evangelist Matthew is very clear: we’ll be judged - we’ll be held accountable - on how well we have served the poor, how much we have sacrificed for the “nobodies”, for the “disposable people”.
The Rev. James Forbes, former pastor of the Riverside Church in New York (and Lauren Ackland’s preaching professor!) sums all this up with a great line, “No one gets to heaven without a letter of reference from the poor.”
“No one gets to heaven without a letter of reference from the poor.”
A lot of us have been going to church for a long time, yet, it’s easy for us to forget this essential truth. Especially if we’re wrapped up in our own anxieties and regrets, it’s hard to be mindful – it’s hard to see the gifts we have been given and it’s all too easy to miss the opportunities all around us to serve Christ the King by serving others.
We know that we are called to serve others. We know that we are expected to serve others. We know all this but we need to be reminded. We need reminders to be mindful.
Maybe because I’ve been trying to be particularly mindful, this week I received three powerful reminders of our call to serve others.
One of the best parts of working at Grace Church is that we have at least one service every day. And, as I’ve mentioned before, that means that we commemorate all the so-called “lesser feasts” – the days when the Church honors the great Christian women and men of the past. And if a lesser feast falls on a day when we have the Eucharist, then either Lauren or I are privileged to preach about these faithful people.
Sometimes that means I have to do a little research, like I did to get ready for Wednesday when we honored Elizabeth of Hungary. Before Wednesday I knew only one thing about Elizabeth; I knew that the College of St. Elizabeth just up the road at Convent Station is named in her honor.
I discovered that Elizabeth was born into the Hungarian royal family in 1207. So she grew up in castles and palaces. I’m not sure if there was any toothpaste or if they had toothbrushes back then – but nevertheless certainly she lived a life of great privilege and relative comfort. Yet from an early age this princess, inspired by the example of Francis of Assisi, was deeply committed to her faith and deeply committed to serving the poor and the sick.
She married Ludwig, a German prince, and her faith and service continued to deepen. In 1226, while Ludwig was away in Italy, their land was hit by floods and the plague. Elizabeth opened a hospital below their castle, and gave away much of the royal clothing and many royal possessions.
I also learned a wonderful story about Elizabeth. The story goes that one night Elizabeth gave a leper her place in the royal bed. As you might imagine, when Ludwig awoke at first he was terrified to find a leper next to him! But then, the story continues, Ludwig’s “eyes were opened” and he saw that in fact the leper was the Crucified Christ.
Elizabeth of Hungary offers a powerful example of “I was sick and you took care of me.” Elizabeth of Hungary offers a powerful reminder to be mindful.
My second reminder to be mindful came on Wednesday night at Plaza Lanes, the bowling alley on Main Street. I was there with some of the Drew campus ministry students for a night of bowling that we call “EpiscoBowl”. When I got there I saw that a couple Grace Church parishioners were there, bowling in their Wednesday night league. I said hello, we talked for a few minutes and then we all got busy bowling.
A little while later I heard an announcement about the winner of a raffle, who received a $25 Stop’n Shop gift card. Since I hadn’t bought a ticket, I didn’t pay much attention.
A few minutes later one of our parishioners came over saying that her friend – not someone who goes to this church, not someone I’d ever met – was the winner and wanted to donate the gift card to the church for one someone comes by asking for food. IN this time when we’re all watching our budgets very carefully, this woman could have put the gift card to good use for herself and her family. Instead she gave it away.
I went over to say thank you and it was clear she wasn’t interested in gratitude or any attention for her kindness and generosity.
This woman at the bowling alley offers a powerful example of “I was hungry and you gave me to eat.” This woman at the bowling alley offers a powerful reminder to be mindful.
One last story and one last reminder to be mindful. Last weekend we received a call here at church from a woman – not a member of the parish - who said that she had been violently abused by her husband and was trying to find a place to stay. She had tried the battered women’s shelter in Morristown but it was full. That’s a horrifying fact and something worth thinking and praying about. Then she had looked at a homeless shelter but she was afraid to stay there. She asked if there was some way that we could help her.
I wasn’t sure what to do. I told the story to Mary Lea and she suggested a parishioner who was knowledgeable about these kinds of situations – maybe she’d have some ideas. When I called her this parishioner stunned me when she said, “She can stay with me and my family.” I was stunned by the kindness, generosity and hospitality.
And that’s exactly what happened. This frightened and lost woman was given a safe, comfortable - and comforting - place to stay.
Our parishioner offers a powerful example of “I was a stranger and you welcomed me.” Our parishioner offers a powerful reminder to be mindful.
So, we’ve come to the end of the church year. Today we honor Christ the King – the king who stands with the hungry, the thirsty, the stranger, the naked, the sick and the imprisoned. Christ the King stands so close with these people that when we serve them we serve him.
And we are called to be mindful – to pay attention – and not miss the opportunities to serve that are all around us. And if we’re mindful, if we serve, then, God willing, we will all receive our letter of recommendation from the poor.
Amen.
November 23, 2008
Year A: The Last Sunday after Pentecost – Christ the King
Ezekiel 34:11-16, 20-24
Psalm 100
(Ephesians 1:15-23)
Matthew 25:31-46
Reminders to be Mindful
Since lately life has been really busy, I’ve been making an extra effort to live mindfully. I’ve been trying to live more in the present and not be so concerned with the future – or so concerned with the past for that matter.
I’ve been trying to pay extra attention to what’s going on around me. And I’ve been trying to notice and give thanks for the simple joys of life – a quiet dinner with Sue, a good laugh with friends and colleagues. I’ve been trying to be mindful, but, to be honest, it’s not easy.
Living a life of mindfulness – a life of really paying attention to the present moment – is not easy under the best of circumstances. And, of course, many of us are not living in the best of circumstances right now. Many of us have watched with astonishment as so much wealth seems to have evaporated. There’s a lot of anxiety about the future and probably some regret about the choices made in the past.
Anxiety about the future and regret about the past – a bad combination and not very helpful to living mindfully in the moment.
And, unfortunately, sometimes even church doesn’t help us live mindfully. Even the church is affected by the anxieties of the world – will we be able to afford all that we hope to do? What will stewardship look like this year? If we need to, where will we cut the budget?
And sometimes even the Sunday Scripture lessons don’t seem to offer much help with living mindfully. I was very glad that Dan Lawson and Tim Barrett were given the assignment last Sunday of preaching on the parable of the talents – a parable that isn’t really very clear and, in some interpretations, a parable that is downright disturbing. And, it’s a parable that, at least for me, is not much help with lessening my anxieties and living mindfully in the present.
And then today we come to the last Sunday after Pentecost, the last Sunday of the church year, the Sunday that we honor Christ the King.
Can “Christ the King” help us live more mindfully – to lessen our anxieties – to open our eyes to the blessings and opportunities that are all around us?
There’s some irony in the title Christ the King, isn’t there? After all, Jesus was not exactly the kind of king that the world expected in the first century – or, I guess, not even the type of king the world expects today.
Back in the First Century there were lots of ideas about the Messiah-King but one of the most popular, naturally enough, was the expectation of a king who would defeat the Romans and restore the mighty Jewish kingdom of David. Christ the King didn’t fulfill that expectation at all.
And today in the 21st Century, we still have kings. I guess most are viewed as romantic or nostalgic or tabloid fodder or just foolish and expensive holdovers from an earlier era. Have any of you been watching the series “Monarchy,” the series about the British royal family, on PBS? It’s interesting and well done and I admit to a soft spot for Queen Elizabeth – I mean, she’s been doing the same job since 1952 and shows no signs of slowing down! But I wonder how being royalty affects a person’s psyche? What’s it like having people bow to you, or curtsey or address you as “Your Majesty” or “Your Highness?” I don’t know whether it’s true but I’ve read stories that Prince Charles has someone squeeze toothpaste onto his toothbrush – imagine having that job! And imagine being used to that kind of luxury and service!
So, by the extravagant standard of 21st Century monarchy, Christ the King isn’t much of a king at all.
So, just what kind of king is Christ the King? Jesus lays it out very clearly in today’s gospel. Christ the King is the king who stands with those who hunger and thirst. Christ the King is the king who stands with the stranger, the naked, the sick and the imprisoned. Christ the King is the king who stands with the nobodies. Christ the King is the king who stands with those who are easy to ignore, those who are easy for society to throw away.
Christ the King stands so closely with the least and the lowly that when we serve them we serve him.
And the Evangelist Matthew is very clear: we’ll be judged - we’ll be held accountable - on how well we have served the poor, how much we have sacrificed for the “nobodies”, for the “disposable people”.
The Rev. James Forbes, former pastor of the Riverside Church in New York (and Lauren Ackland’s preaching professor!) sums all this up with a great line, “No one gets to heaven without a letter of reference from the poor.”
“No one gets to heaven without a letter of reference from the poor.”
A lot of us have been going to church for a long time, yet, it’s easy for us to forget this essential truth. Especially if we’re wrapped up in our own anxieties and regrets, it’s hard to be mindful – it’s hard to see the gifts we have been given and it’s all too easy to miss the opportunities all around us to serve Christ the King by serving others.
We know that we are called to serve others. We know that we are expected to serve others. We know all this but we need to be reminded. We need reminders to be mindful.
Maybe because I’ve been trying to be particularly mindful, this week I received three powerful reminders of our call to serve others.
One of the best parts of working at Grace Church is that we have at least one service every day. And, as I’ve mentioned before, that means that we commemorate all the so-called “lesser feasts” – the days when the Church honors the great Christian women and men of the past. And if a lesser feast falls on a day when we have the Eucharist, then either Lauren or I are privileged to preach about these faithful people.
Sometimes that means I have to do a little research, like I did to get ready for Wednesday when we honored Elizabeth of Hungary. Before Wednesday I knew only one thing about Elizabeth; I knew that the College of St. Elizabeth just up the road at Convent Station is named in her honor.
I discovered that Elizabeth was born into the Hungarian royal family in 1207. So she grew up in castles and palaces. I’m not sure if there was any toothpaste or if they had toothbrushes back then – but nevertheless certainly she lived a life of great privilege and relative comfort. Yet from an early age this princess, inspired by the example of Francis of Assisi, was deeply committed to her faith and deeply committed to serving the poor and the sick.
She married Ludwig, a German prince, and her faith and service continued to deepen. In 1226, while Ludwig was away in Italy, their land was hit by floods and the plague. Elizabeth opened a hospital below their castle, and gave away much of the royal clothing and many royal possessions.
I also learned a wonderful story about Elizabeth. The story goes that one night Elizabeth gave a leper her place in the royal bed. As you might imagine, when Ludwig awoke at first he was terrified to find a leper next to him! But then, the story continues, Ludwig’s “eyes were opened” and he saw that in fact the leper was the Crucified Christ.
Elizabeth of Hungary offers a powerful example of “I was sick and you took care of me.” Elizabeth of Hungary offers a powerful reminder to be mindful.
My second reminder to be mindful came on Wednesday night at Plaza Lanes, the bowling alley on Main Street. I was there with some of the Drew campus ministry students for a night of bowling that we call “EpiscoBowl”. When I got there I saw that a couple Grace Church parishioners were there, bowling in their Wednesday night league. I said hello, we talked for a few minutes and then we all got busy bowling.
A little while later I heard an announcement about the winner of a raffle, who received a $25 Stop’n Shop gift card. Since I hadn’t bought a ticket, I didn’t pay much attention.
A few minutes later one of our parishioners came over saying that her friend – not someone who goes to this church, not someone I’d ever met – was the winner and wanted to donate the gift card to the church for one someone comes by asking for food. IN this time when we’re all watching our budgets very carefully, this woman could have put the gift card to good use for herself and her family. Instead she gave it away.
I went over to say thank you and it was clear she wasn’t interested in gratitude or any attention for her kindness and generosity.
This woman at the bowling alley offers a powerful example of “I was hungry and you gave me to eat.” This woman at the bowling alley offers a powerful reminder to be mindful.
One last story and one last reminder to be mindful. Last weekend we received a call here at church from a woman – not a member of the parish - who said that she had been violently abused by her husband and was trying to find a place to stay. She had tried the battered women’s shelter in Morristown but it was full. That’s a horrifying fact and something worth thinking and praying about. Then she had looked at a homeless shelter but she was afraid to stay there. She asked if there was some way that we could help her.
I wasn’t sure what to do. I told the story to Mary Lea and she suggested a parishioner who was knowledgeable about these kinds of situations – maybe she’d have some ideas. When I called her this parishioner stunned me when she said, “She can stay with me and my family.” I was stunned by the kindness, generosity and hospitality.
And that’s exactly what happened. This frightened and lost woman was given a safe, comfortable - and comforting - place to stay.
Our parishioner offers a powerful example of “I was a stranger and you welcomed me.” Our parishioner offers a powerful reminder to be mindful.
So, we’ve come to the end of the church year. Today we honor Christ the King – the king who stands with the hungry, the thirsty, the stranger, the naked, the sick and the imprisoned. Christ the King stands so close with these people that when we serve them we serve him.
And we are called to be mindful – to pay attention – and not miss the opportunities to serve that are all around us. And if we’re mindful, if we serve, then, God willing, we will all receive our letter of recommendation from the poor.
Amen.
Sunday, November 02, 2008
The Saints: Brokenness and Second Chances
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
November 2, 2008
All Saints’ Sunday
(Ecclesiasticus 44:1-10, 13-14)
Revelation 7:2-4, 9-17
Matthew 5:1-12
Psalm 149
The Saints: Brokenness and Second Chances
“These are they who have come out of the great ordeal; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.”
For a lot of us lately life really has seemed like a great ordeal, hasn’t it? It’s interesting that there has been one constant in the current – and, thankfully, almost over – political season. In poll after poll the vast majority of Americans – Democrats, Republicans and independents - have said that our country is on the wrong track. We disagree on who deserves the blame but people seem to agree that things are fundamentally broken. Our political system is broken. Our economy is broken. And our very society – the way we live together, our values, our priorities, all of it is broken.
And, although the question doesn’t come up in too many polls, I bet most people -if we’re honest with ourselves - would admit that we are broken, too.
For us Christians the brokenness of the world and our own brokenness should not come as news. Reaching all the way back to the beginnings of our tradition in Judaism there has been a clear understanding that creation, the world, is broken.
After all, what’s the story of Adam and Eve about? It’s a story that offers an explanation of an obvious fact – things have gone terribly wrong, the world is broken. We are broken.
Everyone knows the Adam and Eve story, but you might not know another creation story that’s not in the Bible but comes from Jewish mysticism.
In this myth the infinite God had to withdraw a little bit, create a little space, sort of like a womb in the heart of God’s being where the finite, physical universe could exist. This withdrawal of God is called tzimtzum. And, according to the myth, in this womb-like space there were a set of vessels designed to receive the divine light. I imagine them sparkling and looking like crystals. The myth continues that God sent out a single beam of divine light that was supposed to be contained by these vessels. But things didn’t go according to plan. The divine light was too powerful and so the vessels shattered. Everything is broken. This shattering is called shevira.
According to the myth, most of the light returned to God – but not all of it. Some of the divine light became trapped in the material world. And so the job of humanity is tikkun – the healing and restoration of creation. According to the myth, we heal this broken world by finding those divine sparks, bringing out the good that exists in everything and everyone.
I think it’s a fascinating myth. In part I think it’s fascinating because this three-part process of creation, brokenness and restoration is seen as an ongoing process. It didn’t just happen at the beginning of creation. Creation, brokenness and restoration continue right now, in our own lives, every day.
For us Christians, brokenness and the healing of brokenness is at very heart of our faith, isn’t it? We believe that God became a human being in Jesus and human beings killed him. Jesus is broken and so God knows brokenness not in some spiritual way but in flesh and blood. I think one of the most powerful parts of our liturgy is the fraction – when the priest breaks the bread and proclaims “Alleluia. Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us.”
The idea is that the sound and sight of the bread cracking symbolizes Jesus’ sacrifice for us, Jesus’ brokenness on the cross. One of my seminary professors thought that we should wait for a few minutes after the fraction before continuing the service – to give us all time to reflect on Jesus’ sacrifice and brokenness.
But, of course, God didn’t leave it at that. God didn’t give up. God continued the work of restoration in the resurrection of Jesus Christ.
So we can all agree, I think, that the world is broken. And we can agree that brokenness and healing of brokenness is at the very heart of our faith.
But today we celebrate All Saints’ Day. What does brokenness and restoration have to do with the saints?
The saints are our role models. Over the centuries the saints have recognized the brokenness of creation. The saints have recognized their own brokenness. In the words of the Book of Revelation, they have lived through the “great ordeal.”
Think of two of the greatest saints from the start of Christianity: St. Peter abandoned Jesus in his greatest moment of need and denied even knowing him – denied Jesus three times. St. Paul persecuted the early followers of Jesus. Yes, the saints recognize their own brokenness. Peter and Paul clearly recognized their own brokenness. But the saints don’t stop there. Instead the saints allow God to use them to restore the broken creation.
St. Irenaeus was an early saint who had a keen insight into the restoration of creation. Irenaeus, who was bishop of Lyon in the Second Century, developed the idea of “recapitulation.” Following the lead of St. Paul, Irenaeus saw Jesus as the new Adam. Thanks to Jesus’ life, death and resurrection we broken human beings have a second chance – a do-over.
On the J2A pilgrimage in California one of the many fun things we did was play beach volleyball. Now I know what you’re thinking and you’re right – I wasn’t very good at beach volleyball. But to get a cheap laugh each time I served and missed getting the ball over the net by a mile, I’d yell out “do over!” Everyone laughed, at least the first hundred times, but Chris Wilde and the kids never did let me have a do-over though.
But St. Irenaeus believed that in Jesus all of us broken people get a do-over. In Jesus this broken world gets a second chance.
The saints are our role models in faith. They clearly recognize the brokenness of the world and their own brokenness. They take advantage of the second chance offered by God in Jesus. The saints take advantage of the do-over offered by God. With God’s help, the saints work to restore the broken creation.
I think for us the hardest part of imitating the saints is admitting our own brokenness. Admitting that we don’t have it all together is hard to do. Most of us don’t like to show weakness or vulnerability. Most of us don’t want to admit that we are broken.
But the saints understand that it’s in admitting our own brokenness that we make just enough room for God’s grace to work in and through us.
I saw a powerful display of admitting brokenness last Friday when Sue and I went to a performance of Leonard Bernstein’s Mass. It’s a piece I like a lot and have mentioned it in other sermons before. Though, I have to admit it was a different, even more powerful, experience hearing it and seeing it for the first time as a priest.
In the beginning of the performance celebrant is an apparently joyful, faithful, “together” person – leading his people in song and prayer. Gradually over the course of the show the doubts and anxieties and demands of the people begin to wear him down. His own faith is weakened. Cracks begin to appear in his façade and finally in an incredibly dramatic moment, during the mass, he angrily throws a chalice on the floor and it shatters.
As he sits on the floor in the midst of the broken chalice and the spilled wine, in the midst his own brokenness, the celebrant sings the refrain, “How easily things get broken…”
But then something remarkable happens. The people who had driven the celebrant to despair gather around and literally and symbolically pick up the pieces – they begin the restoration. By admitting his own brokenness the celebrant made just enough room for God’s grace to work in and through him - a very important lesson for all of us.
The saints are our role models. The saints recognize the brokenness of creation. The saints recognize their own brokenness. But the saints don’t stop there. Instead the saints allow God to use them to restore the broken creation.
And that’s what you and I are called to do. We are called to recognize our own brokenness and allow God to use us to restore the broken creation. We are called not only to be like the saints. We are called to be saints.
And one of the great things about being here at Grace Church is that since we have so many baptisms we all get reminded of just how to be saints.
In the Baptismal Covenant essentially we are asked if we will be saints.
Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God and Christ? Will you be a saint?
Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself? Will you be a saint?
Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being? Will you be a saint?
How we answer these questions and how we live out our answers will make all the difference in allowing God to heal our own brokenness and allowing God to use us to heal the brokenness of creation.
The saints are our role models. The saints recognize the brokenness of creation. The saints recognize their own brokenness. But the saints don’t stop there. The saints allow God to use them to restore the broken creation.
We are called to be saints. We are called to pick up the broken pieces of this broken world. And if we answer the call then we will take our place with the saints – with those “who have come out of the great ordeal.” We will take our place with the saints – with those who “have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.”
Amen.
November 2, 2008
All Saints’ Sunday
(Ecclesiasticus 44:1-10, 13-14)
Revelation 7:2-4, 9-17
Matthew 5:1-12
Psalm 149
The Saints: Brokenness and Second Chances
“These are they who have come out of the great ordeal; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.”
For a lot of us lately life really has seemed like a great ordeal, hasn’t it? It’s interesting that there has been one constant in the current – and, thankfully, almost over – political season. In poll after poll the vast majority of Americans – Democrats, Republicans and independents - have said that our country is on the wrong track. We disagree on who deserves the blame but people seem to agree that things are fundamentally broken. Our political system is broken. Our economy is broken. And our very society – the way we live together, our values, our priorities, all of it is broken.
And, although the question doesn’t come up in too many polls, I bet most people -if we’re honest with ourselves - would admit that we are broken, too.
For us Christians the brokenness of the world and our own brokenness should not come as news. Reaching all the way back to the beginnings of our tradition in Judaism there has been a clear understanding that creation, the world, is broken.
After all, what’s the story of Adam and Eve about? It’s a story that offers an explanation of an obvious fact – things have gone terribly wrong, the world is broken. We are broken.
Everyone knows the Adam and Eve story, but you might not know another creation story that’s not in the Bible but comes from Jewish mysticism.
In this myth the infinite God had to withdraw a little bit, create a little space, sort of like a womb in the heart of God’s being where the finite, physical universe could exist. This withdrawal of God is called tzimtzum. And, according to the myth, in this womb-like space there were a set of vessels designed to receive the divine light. I imagine them sparkling and looking like crystals. The myth continues that God sent out a single beam of divine light that was supposed to be contained by these vessels. But things didn’t go according to plan. The divine light was too powerful and so the vessels shattered. Everything is broken. This shattering is called shevira.
According to the myth, most of the light returned to God – but not all of it. Some of the divine light became trapped in the material world. And so the job of humanity is tikkun – the healing and restoration of creation. According to the myth, we heal this broken world by finding those divine sparks, bringing out the good that exists in everything and everyone.
I think it’s a fascinating myth. In part I think it’s fascinating because this three-part process of creation, brokenness and restoration is seen as an ongoing process. It didn’t just happen at the beginning of creation. Creation, brokenness and restoration continue right now, in our own lives, every day.
For us Christians, brokenness and the healing of brokenness is at very heart of our faith, isn’t it? We believe that God became a human being in Jesus and human beings killed him. Jesus is broken and so God knows brokenness not in some spiritual way but in flesh and blood. I think one of the most powerful parts of our liturgy is the fraction – when the priest breaks the bread and proclaims “Alleluia. Christ our Passover is sacrificed for us.”
The idea is that the sound and sight of the bread cracking symbolizes Jesus’ sacrifice for us, Jesus’ brokenness on the cross. One of my seminary professors thought that we should wait for a few minutes after the fraction before continuing the service – to give us all time to reflect on Jesus’ sacrifice and brokenness.
But, of course, God didn’t leave it at that. God didn’t give up. God continued the work of restoration in the resurrection of Jesus Christ.
So we can all agree, I think, that the world is broken. And we can agree that brokenness and healing of brokenness is at the very heart of our faith.
But today we celebrate All Saints’ Day. What does brokenness and restoration have to do with the saints?
The saints are our role models. Over the centuries the saints have recognized the brokenness of creation. The saints have recognized their own brokenness. In the words of the Book of Revelation, they have lived through the “great ordeal.”
Think of two of the greatest saints from the start of Christianity: St. Peter abandoned Jesus in his greatest moment of need and denied even knowing him – denied Jesus three times. St. Paul persecuted the early followers of Jesus. Yes, the saints recognize their own brokenness. Peter and Paul clearly recognized their own brokenness. But the saints don’t stop there. Instead the saints allow God to use them to restore the broken creation.
St. Irenaeus was an early saint who had a keen insight into the restoration of creation. Irenaeus, who was bishop of Lyon in the Second Century, developed the idea of “recapitulation.” Following the lead of St. Paul, Irenaeus saw Jesus as the new Adam. Thanks to Jesus’ life, death and resurrection we broken human beings have a second chance – a do-over.
On the J2A pilgrimage in California one of the many fun things we did was play beach volleyball. Now I know what you’re thinking and you’re right – I wasn’t very good at beach volleyball. But to get a cheap laugh each time I served and missed getting the ball over the net by a mile, I’d yell out “do over!” Everyone laughed, at least the first hundred times, but Chris Wilde and the kids never did let me have a do-over though.
But St. Irenaeus believed that in Jesus all of us broken people get a do-over. In Jesus this broken world gets a second chance.
The saints are our role models in faith. They clearly recognize the brokenness of the world and their own brokenness. They take advantage of the second chance offered by God in Jesus. The saints take advantage of the do-over offered by God. With God’s help, the saints work to restore the broken creation.
I think for us the hardest part of imitating the saints is admitting our own brokenness. Admitting that we don’t have it all together is hard to do. Most of us don’t like to show weakness or vulnerability. Most of us don’t want to admit that we are broken.
But the saints understand that it’s in admitting our own brokenness that we make just enough room for God’s grace to work in and through us.
I saw a powerful display of admitting brokenness last Friday when Sue and I went to a performance of Leonard Bernstein’s Mass. It’s a piece I like a lot and have mentioned it in other sermons before. Though, I have to admit it was a different, even more powerful, experience hearing it and seeing it for the first time as a priest.
In the beginning of the performance celebrant is an apparently joyful, faithful, “together” person – leading his people in song and prayer. Gradually over the course of the show the doubts and anxieties and demands of the people begin to wear him down. His own faith is weakened. Cracks begin to appear in his façade and finally in an incredibly dramatic moment, during the mass, he angrily throws a chalice on the floor and it shatters.
As he sits on the floor in the midst of the broken chalice and the spilled wine, in the midst his own brokenness, the celebrant sings the refrain, “How easily things get broken…”
But then something remarkable happens. The people who had driven the celebrant to despair gather around and literally and symbolically pick up the pieces – they begin the restoration. By admitting his own brokenness the celebrant made just enough room for God’s grace to work in and through him - a very important lesson for all of us.
The saints are our role models. The saints recognize the brokenness of creation. The saints recognize their own brokenness. But the saints don’t stop there. Instead the saints allow God to use them to restore the broken creation.
And that’s what you and I are called to do. We are called to recognize our own brokenness and allow God to use us to restore the broken creation. We are called not only to be like the saints. We are called to be saints.
And one of the great things about being here at Grace Church is that since we have so many baptisms we all get reminded of just how to be saints.
In the Baptismal Covenant essentially we are asked if we will be saints.
Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God and Christ? Will you be a saint?
Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself? Will you be a saint?
Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being? Will you be a saint?
How we answer these questions and how we live out our answers will make all the difference in allowing God to heal our own brokenness and allowing God to use us to heal the brokenness of creation.
The saints are our role models. The saints recognize the brokenness of creation. The saints recognize their own brokenness. But the saints don’t stop there. The saints allow God to use them to restore the broken creation.
We are called to be saints. We are called to pick up the broken pieces of this broken world. And if we answer the call then we will take our place with the saints – with those “who have come out of the great ordeal.” We will take our place with the saints – with those who “have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb.”
Amen.
Saturday, November 01, 2008
Alternate Histories and Parallel Universes
The Messenger
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
November 2008
Alternate Histories and Parallel Universes
For the past week or so I have been reading Michael Chabon’s novel, The Yiddish Policemen’s Union. It’s a good thing that Chabon is a brilliant writer because in this book he attempts to tell an improbable alternate history. In the novel, as in actual history, the State of Israel was created in the years after World War II and at least in part as a response to the Holocaust. In the novel, unlike in actual history, Israel is defeated and destroyed in 1948. After the defeat, many Jews migrate to the extremely unlikely location of Sitka, Alaska, where the American government allows them to set up a kind of colony, at least for a time. The story – described on the book jacket as “a gripping whodunit, a love story, and an exploration of the mysteries of exile and redemption” – takes place in this fictional, frigid, absurd and yet believable Jewish settlement.
Reading this amazing book I’ve been reminded of other authors who have attempted to create alternate histories. Probably the best I’ve ever read is Philip Roth’s remarkable novel, The Plot Against America. Roth tells the story of a Jewish family living in Newark that grows increasingly dismayed and fearful when Charles Lindbergh, after defeating Franklin Roosevelt in the 1940 presidential election, moves the United States toward an alliance with Hitler’s Germany.
Especially for us history buffs, it’s fascinating to imagine great what ifs of the past. But it’s not just historians and novelists who have pondered these kinds of questions. Scientists have also wondered about alternatives to the universe that we know. Recently PBS aired a program, “Parallel Worlds, Parallel Lives,” about the physicist Hugh Everett who back in the 1950s proposed the “Many Worlds Interpretation.” Everett’s idea was that are theoretically infinite universes in which every possibility occurs. To give a silly example, according to Everett’s theory, if one day I walk down Main Street and decide to go to On a Roll for lunch there would also be universes where I decide to go to the Nautilus, Bagel Chateau, or even McCool’s!
My understanding of quantum physics is admittedly more than a little shaky, but the “Many Worlds Interpretation” as well as novels that imagine alternative history serve as reminders of the importance and the consequences of the choices that we make. I am sure all of us can think of decisions that were crucial in determining the shape of our lives. And I am sure that all of us can imagine alternative histories, or parallel universes, where our lives turned out to be very different – for better or for worse - from the lives we are living.
I don’t know if there really is a parallel universe where I am still a high school teacher, but I can imagine an alternative history where I am in my classroom grading papers and planning classes. Instead, obviously, I chose to go to seminary, setting in motion a chain of events that have led me to serve as your curate. Although there are parts of teaching that I miss, I’m very glad that my history unfolded in a way that has brought me to Grace Church.
Stewardship season is now upon us in the midst of much economic uncertainty and anxiety. As we all pray about and reflect on our church support maybe it would be a helpful exercise to take some time to imagine an alternative history or a parallel universe without Grace Church in our lives. How different would our lives be without the solid foundation of this church? How different would our lives be without this place where we come together again and again to hear and tell our stories and to receive Jesus into our bodies and souls? I know my life would be much poorer without the gift or working and worshiping with all of you. It’s a tough time for many of us, but I can’t imagine a better history or a better universe than the one that we are sharing together here at Grace Church.
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
November 2008
Alternate Histories and Parallel Universes
For the past week or so I have been reading Michael Chabon’s novel, The Yiddish Policemen’s Union. It’s a good thing that Chabon is a brilliant writer because in this book he attempts to tell an improbable alternate history. In the novel, as in actual history, the State of Israel was created in the years after World War II and at least in part as a response to the Holocaust. In the novel, unlike in actual history, Israel is defeated and destroyed in 1948. After the defeat, many Jews migrate to the extremely unlikely location of Sitka, Alaska, where the American government allows them to set up a kind of colony, at least for a time. The story – described on the book jacket as “a gripping whodunit, a love story, and an exploration of the mysteries of exile and redemption” – takes place in this fictional, frigid, absurd and yet believable Jewish settlement.
Reading this amazing book I’ve been reminded of other authors who have attempted to create alternate histories. Probably the best I’ve ever read is Philip Roth’s remarkable novel, The Plot Against America. Roth tells the story of a Jewish family living in Newark that grows increasingly dismayed and fearful when Charles Lindbergh, after defeating Franklin Roosevelt in the 1940 presidential election, moves the United States toward an alliance with Hitler’s Germany.
Especially for us history buffs, it’s fascinating to imagine great what ifs of the past. But it’s not just historians and novelists who have pondered these kinds of questions. Scientists have also wondered about alternatives to the universe that we know. Recently PBS aired a program, “Parallel Worlds, Parallel Lives,” about the physicist Hugh Everett who back in the 1950s proposed the “Many Worlds Interpretation.” Everett’s idea was that are theoretically infinite universes in which every possibility occurs. To give a silly example, according to Everett’s theory, if one day I walk down Main Street and decide to go to On a Roll for lunch there would also be universes where I decide to go to the Nautilus, Bagel Chateau, or even McCool’s!
My understanding of quantum physics is admittedly more than a little shaky, but the “Many Worlds Interpretation” as well as novels that imagine alternative history serve as reminders of the importance and the consequences of the choices that we make. I am sure all of us can think of decisions that were crucial in determining the shape of our lives. And I am sure that all of us can imagine alternative histories, or parallel universes, where our lives turned out to be very different – for better or for worse - from the lives we are living.
I don’t know if there really is a parallel universe where I am still a high school teacher, but I can imagine an alternative history where I am in my classroom grading papers and planning classes. Instead, obviously, I chose to go to seminary, setting in motion a chain of events that have led me to serve as your curate. Although there are parts of teaching that I miss, I’m very glad that my history unfolded in a way that has brought me to Grace Church.
Stewardship season is now upon us in the midst of much economic uncertainty and anxiety. As we all pray about and reflect on our church support maybe it would be a helpful exercise to take some time to imagine an alternative history or a parallel universe without Grace Church in our lives. How different would our lives be without the solid foundation of this church? How different would our lives be without this place where we come together again and again to hear and tell our stories and to receive Jesus into our bodies and souls? I know my life would be much poorer without the gift or working and worshiping with all of you. It’s a tough time for many of us, but I can’t imagine a better history or a better universe than the one that we are sharing together here at Grace Church.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Practice
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
October 19, 2008
Year A: The Twenty-Third Sunday after Pentecost
Exodus 33:12-23
Psalm 99
(1 Thessalonians 1:1-10)
Matthew 22:15-22
Practice
Well, I don’t need to tell you it was another wild week on Wall Street. The image of the market as rollercoaster has been so overused and yet it seems like the best metaphor for the nauseating ride that we’ve all been on. And, meanwhile, the presidential campaign has entered what feels like its 400th week…
For a lot of us it’s a pretty bleak and frightening time. In her sermon last Sunday Lauren admitted that in the midst of the anxiety in the world it was a challenge to find the good news in the lessons that she had to deal with – the Israelites worshipping the golden calf and Jesus’ parable of someone being tossed out of the wedding banquet because he didn’t have the correct robe. I sat over there listening to her sermon, listening to her find the good news, and I gave a deep sigh of relief that she was preaching and I wasn’t.
Then I looked ahead to today’s gospel: “Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” The King James Version of this verse is the one everybody knows, though, right? It’s probably one of Jesus’ best-known and most widely interpreted sayings: “Render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s and unto God what is God’s.”
That’s just great. As we ride the economic rollercoaster and as we enter the last weeks of the presidential campaign we have the gospel lesson about taxes – just what everyone wants to hear today!
Well, let’s start by putting this passage into context. Over the past few Sundays as we’ve been making our way through the Gospel of Matthew, the conflict between Jesus and the religious establishment has been really heating up. Two weeks ago we heard Matthew quote Jesus as telling the Pharisees and the chief priests: “Therefore I tell you, the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people that produces the fruits of the kingdom.” Ouch. Pretty harsh.
And last week’s wedding banquet parable was directly aimed against the religious establishment that had over and over rejected the prophets and now was rejecting Jesus, the Son of God.
But today it’s time for the Pharisees to respond. Unlike what we’ve heard the past couple of weeks, here Matthew pretty much sticks with Mark and Luke’s version of this story. The Pharisees present Jesus with a question that is designed to get him in trouble. The Pharisees are playing a game of gotcha with Jesus. “Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor, or not?”
We all know that talking about taxes can put you on thin ice. We’ve certainly seen that in the current election campaign haven’t we? But in First Century Palestine taxation was an extremely touchy subject. The Romans imposed three different taxes. First there was a land tax which was what it sounds like – a tax on the produce of the land. Second was the customs tax – an often corrupt tax collected through tolls and ports. And finally there was the head tax or the poll tax. Each adult male and maybe each adult female was taxed probably one denarius, or one day’s wage, a year.
Most Jews hated paying these taxes because, well, no one likes to pay taxes, but there was also notorious corruption involved, and they served as a reminder that Israel was ruled by a foreign power and they had to use coins the bore the image of the emperor.
So the Pharisees think they have set up Jesus. If Jesus says it is unlawful to pay the tax he becomes the enemy of the Romans and their local allies. If Jesus says it is lawful then he becomes the enemy of the zealous and patriotic Jews who hate Roman rule.
Instead, of course, Jesus avoids the trap and says, “Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” “Render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s and unto God what is God’s.”
This is the saying of Jesus that launched a million stewardship sermons. As I read commentary after commentary I found that this verse has been interpreted to mean everything from Christians must absolutely obey the state to Christians do not need to pay taxes to the government. Go figure.
As I’ve prayed and thought about this passage I’ve come to the conclusion that in the end it’s not about taxes. The taxes are beside the point. It’s not about taxes for Matthew who mostly is telling this story to show Jesus outfoxing the Pharisees. And it’s not about taxes for us, either.
If we are going to get any meaning out of this long-age game of gotcha, it’s not going to be in determining whether we should pay taxes or determining how much we should give to the church or other worthy causes.
If we are going to get any meaning out of this passage it will be in figuring out what it means for us here and now to render unto Caesar and what it means for us here and now to render unto God.
The meaning for us today is to be at least as careful about our obligation to God as we are about our obligation to Caesar – to be at least as careful about our spiritual obligations as we are to our obligations to the material, the physical, the dollars and cents.
And how can we be careful about our spiritual and material obligations? The answer came to me when I fell for an old joke the other day.
True story: later this week Sue and I are going to a concert at Carnegie Hall. And so the other day, out of the blue Sue asked me, “How do you get to Carnegie Hall?”
Without missing a beat, I started to say, “Well, I was thinking we could take the train from Madison and uh…”
When I saw Sue start to laugh I finally got the old joke. The right answer to the question how do you get to Carnegie Hall is…practice!
That’s the meaning of this passage for us today. It’s about the rendering. It’s about the giving. It’s about the doing. It’s about our practices. Not practices in the sense of rehearsal, but practices in the sense of doing, taking action.
In her book Practicing Our Faith the author Dorothy Bass defines practices as “those shared activities that address fundamental human needs and that, woven together, form a way of life.”
Practices are “those shared activities that address fundamental human needs and that, woven together, form a way of life.”
How do we address our basic needs? How do we give to the emperor and how do we give to God? We do that through specific actions, through specific practices.
We all are learning more about the importance of good financial practices….It seems like as a country maybe we haven’t been as careful as we should have been about our financial practices and now we’ve gotten ourselves into some big trouble. But now many of us are paying a lot more attention to our financial practices these days, aren’t we?
I know that Sue and I don’t eat out as much as we did and when we do it’s very obvious that restaurants are nowhere near as busy as they were a year ago. We are changing our practices.
It might be my imagination but when I’m on line at checkout in Shop Rite it seems like more and more people are handing over a lot of coupons to the cashier. We are changing our practices.
When I started thinking about this idea about the importance of practices – both material and spiritual practices - I asked one of the Men’s Breakfast financial whizzes to come up with a list of specific financial practices that people might consider during this difficult time. He began by tellingme that ignoring the situation, no matter how frightening, won’t make things better. Then he said, “There may be steps that you ought to consider taking now. If so, it’s better to take them now rather than ending up having to say at some future time, “If only I had…”
So what’s first on the list of dealing with the financial crisis? Act. Figure out our financial practices.
We know the importance of financial practices; we know how to render unto "Caesar." But maybe we don’t know or maybe it’s easy for us to forget the importance of spiritual practices; how to render unto God.
So what might be some of these spiritual practices that we can use to give to God the things that are God’s?
One of the most important practices is being right here – praising God in church each Sunday. And there’s the practice of setting aside even just a few moments a day for personal prayer. In the book that I mentioned, Dorothy Bass includes some other practices. She talks about the practice of hospitality. There’s a chapter on the practice of discernment - how does our faith shape the decisions we make? She includes a chapter on the practice of forgiveness and one on the practice of taking care of our bodies because they are gifts from God.
I am sure we could make a list of many practices, many ways that we can give to God the things that are God’s.
Long ago Jesus outsmarted the Pharisees by telling them they had obligations to the emperor and to God. And through the Scripture Jesus is telling us the same thing today – and reminding us that we fulfill those obligations not by sitting around and thinking about them but through practices.
So, how do you get to Carnegie Hall? Practice. How do we render unto Caesar and render unto God? Practice. How do we meet our material and spiritual obligations? Practice.
Amen.
October 19, 2008
Year A: The Twenty-Third Sunday after Pentecost
Exodus 33:12-23
Psalm 99
(1 Thessalonians 1:1-10)
Matthew 22:15-22
Practice
Well, I don’t need to tell you it was another wild week on Wall Street. The image of the market as rollercoaster has been so overused and yet it seems like the best metaphor for the nauseating ride that we’ve all been on. And, meanwhile, the presidential campaign has entered what feels like its 400th week…
For a lot of us it’s a pretty bleak and frightening time. In her sermon last Sunday Lauren admitted that in the midst of the anxiety in the world it was a challenge to find the good news in the lessons that she had to deal with – the Israelites worshipping the golden calf and Jesus’ parable of someone being tossed out of the wedding banquet because he didn’t have the correct robe. I sat over there listening to her sermon, listening to her find the good news, and I gave a deep sigh of relief that she was preaching and I wasn’t.
Then I looked ahead to today’s gospel: “Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” The King James Version of this verse is the one everybody knows, though, right? It’s probably one of Jesus’ best-known and most widely interpreted sayings: “Render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s and unto God what is God’s.”
That’s just great. As we ride the economic rollercoaster and as we enter the last weeks of the presidential campaign we have the gospel lesson about taxes – just what everyone wants to hear today!
Well, let’s start by putting this passage into context. Over the past few Sundays as we’ve been making our way through the Gospel of Matthew, the conflict between Jesus and the religious establishment has been really heating up. Two weeks ago we heard Matthew quote Jesus as telling the Pharisees and the chief priests: “Therefore I tell you, the kingdom of God will be taken away from you and given to a people that produces the fruits of the kingdom.” Ouch. Pretty harsh.
And last week’s wedding banquet parable was directly aimed against the religious establishment that had over and over rejected the prophets and now was rejecting Jesus, the Son of God.
But today it’s time for the Pharisees to respond. Unlike what we’ve heard the past couple of weeks, here Matthew pretty much sticks with Mark and Luke’s version of this story. The Pharisees present Jesus with a question that is designed to get him in trouble. The Pharisees are playing a game of gotcha with Jesus. “Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor, or not?”
We all know that talking about taxes can put you on thin ice. We’ve certainly seen that in the current election campaign haven’t we? But in First Century Palestine taxation was an extremely touchy subject. The Romans imposed three different taxes. First there was a land tax which was what it sounds like – a tax on the produce of the land. Second was the customs tax – an often corrupt tax collected through tolls and ports. And finally there was the head tax or the poll tax. Each adult male and maybe each adult female was taxed probably one denarius, or one day’s wage, a year.
Most Jews hated paying these taxes because, well, no one likes to pay taxes, but there was also notorious corruption involved, and they served as a reminder that Israel was ruled by a foreign power and they had to use coins the bore the image of the emperor.
So the Pharisees think they have set up Jesus. If Jesus says it is unlawful to pay the tax he becomes the enemy of the Romans and their local allies. If Jesus says it is lawful then he becomes the enemy of the zealous and patriotic Jews who hate Roman rule.
Instead, of course, Jesus avoids the trap and says, “Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” “Render unto Caesar what is Caesar’s and unto God what is God’s.”
This is the saying of Jesus that launched a million stewardship sermons. As I read commentary after commentary I found that this verse has been interpreted to mean everything from Christians must absolutely obey the state to Christians do not need to pay taxes to the government. Go figure.
As I’ve prayed and thought about this passage I’ve come to the conclusion that in the end it’s not about taxes. The taxes are beside the point. It’s not about taxes for Matthew who mostly is telling this story to show Jesus outfoxing the Pharisees. And it’s not about taxes for us, either.
If we are going to get any meaning out of this long-age game of gotcha, it’s not going to be in determining whether we should pay taxes or determining how much we should give to the church or other worthy causes.
If we are going to get any meaning out of this passage it will be in figuring out what it means for us here and now to render unto Caesar and what it means for us here and now to render unto God.
The meaning for us today is to be at least as careful about our obligation to God as we are about our obligation to Caesar – to be at least as careful about our spiritual obligations as we are to our obligations to the material, the physical, the dollars and cents.
And how can we be careful about our spiritual and material obligations? The answer came to me when I fell for an old joke the other day.
True story: later this week Sue and I are going to a concert at Carnegie Hall. And so the other day, out of the blue Sue asked me, “How do you get to Carnegie Hall?”
Without missing a beat, I started to say, “Well, I was thinking we could take the train from Madison and uh…”
When I saw Sue start to laugh I finally got the old joke. The right answer to the question how do you get to Carnegie Hall is…practice!
That’s the meaning of this passage for us today. It’s about the rendering. It’s about the giving. It’s about the doing. It’s about our practices. Not practices in the sense of rehearsal, but practices in the sense of doing, taking action.
In her book Practicing Our Faith the author Dorothy Bass defines practices as “those shared activities that address fundamental human needs and that, woven together, form a way of life.”
Practices are “those shared activities that address fundamental human needs and that, woven together, form a way of life.”
How do we address our basic needs? How do we give to the emperor and how do we give to God? We do that through specific actions, through specific practices.
We all are learning more about the importance of good financial practices….It seems like as a country maybe we haven’t been as careful as we should have been about our financial practices and now we’ve gotten ourselves into some big trouble. But now many of us are paying a lot more attention to our financial practices these days, aren’t we?
I know that Sue and I don’t eat out as much as we did and when we do it’s very obvious that restaurants are nowhere near as busy as they were a year ago. We are changing our practices.
It might be my imagination but when I’m on line at checkout in Shop Rite it seems like more and more people are handing over a lot of coupons to the cashier. We are changing our practices.
When I started thinking about this idea about the importance of practices – both material and spiritual practices - I asked one of the Men’s Breakfast financial whizzes to come up with a list of specific financial practices that people might consider during this difficult time. He began by tellingme that ignoring the situation, no matter how frightening, won’t make things better. Then he said, “There may be steps that you ought to consider taking now. If so, it’s better to take them now rather than ending up having to say at some future time, “If only I had…”
So what’s first on the list of dealing with the financial crisis? Act. Figure out our financial practices.
We know the importance of financial practices; we know how to render unto "Caesar." But maybe we don’t know or maybe it’s easy for us to forget the importance of spiritual practices; how to render unto God.
So what might be some of these spiritual practices that we can use to give to God the things that are God’s?
One of the most important practices is being right here – praising God in church each Sunday. And there’s the practice of setting aside even just a few moments a day for personal prayer. In the book that I mentioned, Dorothy Bass includes some other practices. She talks about the practice of hospitality. There’s a chapter on the practice of discernment - how does our faith shape the decisions we make? She includes a chapter on the practice of forgiveness and one on the practice of taking care of our bodies because they are gifts from God.
I am sure we could make a list of many practices, many ways that we can give to God the things that are God’s.
Long ago Jesus outsmarted the Pharisees by telling them they had obligations to the emperor and to God. And through the Scripture Jesus is telling us the same thing today – and reminding us that we fulfill those obligations not by sitting around and thinking about them but through practices.
So, how do you get to Carnegie Hall? Practice. How do we render unto Caesar and render unto God? Practice. How do we meet our material and spiritual obligations? Practice.
Amen.
Wednesday, October 01, 2008
Men's Ministry
The Messenger
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
October 2008
Men’s Ministry
In Christian magazines and books there has been a good deal of ink spilled over the issue of men in church – or, more accurately, the troubling lack of men in church. Probably the best known book about this subject has the provocative title Why Men Hate Going to Church. The author, David Morrow, offers some sobering statistics on his website churchformen.org. For example, on Sunday the typical congregation is 61% women and 39% men. And then there’s this: “More than 90 percent of American men believe in God, and five out of six call themselves Christians. But only two out of six attend church on a given Sunday. The average man accepts the reality of Jesus Christ, but fails to see any value in going to church.” And finally Morrow claims that fewer than 10% of American congregations are able to support “vibrant” men’s ministries.
In many ways Grace Church is an exception to the bleak picture painted by Morrow and others. As you know, many men regularly attend church and are often very active in all sorts of ministries from singing in the choir to serving as a youth leader to maintaining our grounds and buildings. We are very fortunate to have many men who give so much to the church and the wider community. However, since I think our distinctively men’s ministries can be more “vibrant, I want to remind you of what is already available and to begin thinking about future possibilities.
First, I want to invite all the men of Grace Church to our Men’s Breakfast, which assembles every Friday morning at 7:00 at the Bagel Chateau on Main Street. Eliot Knight, Bruce Rudin and I are the most regular attendees but others stop by from time to time. This weekly get-together has been a real highlight of my time at Grace – low-key, relaxed, agenda-free and often a lot of fun. The conversation ranges from the church to the economy to what’s going on at work and at home. If a Friday morning stop at the Bagel Chateau works with your schedule, I hope you will join us.
Second, I hope more of the men of Grace will consider joining the Grace Church Men’s Book Group, which meets monthly. In recent months the group has read and discussed The Power and the Glory by Graham Greene, The People of the Book by Geraldine Brooks, and The Beekeepers Apprentice by Laurie King. Ask Eliot Knight, Bruce Rudin, Steve Hauge or Jim Van Leuven for more information.
Finally, in recent months the newly reconstituted Grace Church Men’s Group has met twice – first at Surrey Lane and then at Bruce Rudin’s home. Both of these casual gatherings were well-attended and gave many of us a chance to meet and talk together for the first time. I learned that, partly because Grace is a fairly large church, many of us do not really know one another. I also learned that there is interest among at least some of the men in having a retreat – something that once was very popular but has not happened in the past couple of years.
We will be having our third meeting of the Men’s Group at 7 p.m. on Friday, October 10, at my place. Once again there will be snacks, drinks and conversation, but this time we will talk a while about some of our concerns, think about other ways we could serve Grace Church and the wider community and begin to plan a men’s retreat. Considering the stress and strain that many of us are under in these uncertain times, I think getting away together for even a short time of prayer and rest would be worthwhile for many of us.
Let me know what you think and I hope to see many of the men of Grace Church on the 10th.
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
October 2008
Men’s Ministry
In Christian magazines and books there has been a good deal of ink spilled over the issue of men in church – or, more accurately, the troubling lack of men in church. Probably the best known book about this subject has the provocative title Why Men Hate Going to Church. The author, David Morrow, offers some sobering statistics on his website churchformen.org. For example, on Sunday the typical congregation is 61% women and 39% men. And then there’s this: “More than 90 percent of American men believe in God, and five out of six call themselves Christians. But only two out of six attend church on a given Sunday. The average man accepts the reality of Jesus Christ, but fails to see any value in going to church.” And finally Morrow claims that fewer than 10% of American congregations are able to support “vibrant” men’s ministries.
In many ways Grace Church is an exception to the bleak picture painted by Morrow and others. As you know, many men regularly attend church and are often very active in all sorts of ministries from singing in the choir to serving as a youth leader to maintaining our grounds and buildings. We are very fortunate to have many men who give so much to the church and the wider community. However, since I think our distinctively men’s ministries can be more “vibrant, I want to remind you of what is already available and to begin thinking about future possibilities.
First, I want to invite all the men of Grace Church to our Men’s Breakfast, which assembles every Friday morning at 7:00 at the Bagel Chateau on Main Street. Eliot Knight, Bruce Rudin and I are the most regular attendees but others stop by from time to time. This weekly get-together has been a real highlight of my time at Grace – low-key, relaxed, agenda-free and often a lot of fun. The conversation ranges from the church to the economy to what’s going on at work and at home. If a Friday morning stop at the Bagel Chateau works with your schedule, I hope you will join us.
Second, I hope more of the men of Grace will consider joining the Grace Church Men’s Book Group, which meets monthly. In recent months the group has read and discussed The Power and the Glory by Graham Greene, The People of the Book by Geraldine Brooks, and The Beekeepers Apprentice by Laurie King. Ask Eliot Knight, Bruce Rudin, Steve Hauge or Jim Van Leuven for more information.
Finally, in recent months the newly reconstituted Grace Church Men’s Group has met twice – first at Surrey Lane and then at Bruce Rudin’s home. Both of these casual gatherings were well-attended and gave many of us a chance to meet and talk together for the first time. I learned that, partly because Grace is a fairly large church, many of us do not really know one another. I also learned that there is interest among at least some of the men in having a retreat – something that once was very popular but has not happened in the past couple of years.
We will be having our third meeting of the Men’s Group at 7 p.m. on Friday, October 10, at my place. Once again there will be snacks, drinks and conversation, but this time we will talk a while about some of our concerns, think about other ways we could serve Grace Church and the wider community and begin to plan a men’s retreat. Considering the stress and strain that many of us are under in these uncertain times, I think getting away together for even a short time of prayer and rest would be worthwhile for many of us.
Let me know what you think and I hope to see many of the men of Grace Church on the 10th.
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