St. Vincent Academy, Newark NJ
Students in Community Sending Forth Ceremony
March 19, 2010
Paying Our Rent
It is a great gift to be back here at St. Vincent’s. You and I have something in common – just like you I did a lot of my growing up here at SVA. I didn’t know what I was in for when I interviewed with Sister June in January, 1992. I had one thing on my mind – I need this job. I hadn’t worked since September and I was just about out of money to pay for rent and life’s other necessities. I was looking at having to give up my little studio apartment and move back with my parents. I love my parents very much, but rightly or wrongly it felt like failure to move back home.
So I arrived here that day with that one thought: I need this job. During the interview Sister June shared with me the mission of SVA – which has really been the mission of the Sisters of Charity for these past 150 years – and is really the mission of the whole Church: the mission to proclaim the Good News of Jesus by living lives of service to our sisters and brothers. To quote from the SVA mission statement:
Saint Vincent Academy inspires students to develop lifelong commitments to Christian service and a capacity for hope, compassionate leadership and the desire to transform the world into a more just and peaceful society.
During my interview as Sister June was telling me all this I was asking myself two questions. You already know the first one: would I get this job? Second, all this stuff about living lives of service sounds very nice, but is SVA really different from other good schools?
And then she began to tell me about Students in Community. I remember being amazed as she described this carefully thought-out program that began in freshman year and then culminated in what you are about to do next week – going out into the world and give yourself in service to others. It was then that I realized that if I got this job – which have I mentioned I really needed? – I was in for a lot more than just teaching history.
In the same way, I’m sure it didn’t take you long to realize that being an SVA student means learning a lot more than math or English or science.
So, this is why I say that like you I grew up at SVA. It was here that I finally really learned that life is about discovering our gifts and giving away our lives in service to others. Our two readings today from St. Paul could not be more appropriate. Paul understood that God has given us all different gifts. Big deal - everyone knows that, right? But Paul also understood that while we have different gifts, we are all united by the job of using our gifts, of giving away our lives, for the “common good.”
It was here at SVA that I finally really learned that this is what life is all about. It’s here that I grew up. Now, don’t get me wrong, I also went to a great high school and I have wonderful parents who tried to get this message across to me. But, it was here, working with Sisters June and Margaret, Ms. Nolan, the Freshman Team and all the rest, that I really learned that the Christian life is discovering the gifts we have been given by God and then giving them all away in lives of service to others. Life is about service. It was here that I first heard the quote from Marian Wright Edelman, “Service is the rent we pay to be living. It is the very purpose of life and not something you do in your spare time.”
I love that. I learned all of these lessons about service working with these remarkable people and I also learned about service from the amazing girls I taught here in the 1990s. I learned from my students in the classroom and I especially learned from them when I visited them in their SIC placements.
I have vivid memories of getting lost riding around the unfamiliar streets of Newark, trying to find the schools and hospitals where the girls were working. This was long before GPS or even mapquest. But my most vivid memories are finding and seeing these young women in a whole different light. It was during SIC that I found out who they really were – talented and generous young people, eager to serve others.
They may not have been too happy about doing social studies homework (I know, hard to believe, right?) but I found them working so hard in a hospital or in a classroom. I found them gently rocking a baby to sleep or sitting patiently listening to a sick and frightened patient tell his or her sad story. I found them comforting an upset little boy or girl in the classroom and I found them competently assisting a teacher.
Thinking about what those girls did in SIC back then, I’m reminded of something we do in the Episcopal Church. Whenever someone is baptized – whenever they decide to formally become a follower of Jesus, they publicly sign on for what we call the Baptismal Covenant. The idea is that baptism is really the beginning of our life of Christian service.
Listen to some of the questions we ask of the newly baptized (or, if it’s a baby being baptized, questions we ask of their parents and godparents): Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God and Christ? Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself? Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?
Big questions! For each of those very challenging questions we are asked to respond, “I will, with God’s help.”
Well, back when I was teaching here those SVA juniors and seniors, probably without knowing it, said “I will, with God’s help” and were sent out on SIC and proclaimed the Good News by their example, tried their best to love their neighbor as themselves and tried their best to respect the dignity of every human being.
It’s hard to believe that was nearly twenty years ago – nearly a generation. But, although much time has passed, the impact of SIC and SVA continues to be felt in the lives of those young women and in my own life.
In my own case, I know that my years at SVA helped to set me on a direction that led to ordination in the Episcopal Church. And I continue to apply those lessons in my life as a priest. Just last summer, the youth at my church made a mission trip to Camden, one of the poorest cities in the country, where we spent a very SIC-like week volunteering at food pantries, homeless shelters, adult day care centers and more. At the end of each day we would reflect on our experience, looking for how we had seen God at work in the people and places we had met and learning about how and why our rich country allows some people to live in such desperate poverty.
And I know for a fact that SIC continues to affect the girls I taught back in the 1990s. For years every once in a while I’d run to one of my former SVA students. It was always great to be remembered and to catch up. But, now thanks to the miracle of facebook I’ve managed to reconnect with dozens of those girls and get a sense of the kinds of lives they are leading. Making me feel old, many are now married and many have children. And making me feel very happy, many of them are involved in serving other people. Some serve others by being in a helping profession, working as teachers, or doctors or nurses and more. Others serve by volunteering.
So many of that generation have remembered that “Service is the rent we pay to be living. It is the very purpose of life and not something you do in your spare time.”
Now it’s your turn. Now it’s time for this generation to build on the 150 year long service of the Sisters of Charity and it’s time for this generation to build on the service of your SVA sisters who have gone before you during the 35 years or so of Students in Community.
Now it’s your turn. But actually, I’m told, it’s been your turn for a while now. Sister Noreen told me that back when you were freshmen, the seniors worked at the Community Food Bank in Hillside and that two years ago both the current juniors and seniors hosted second graders at an Easter party. And I’m sure the juniors remember the cold day last year they spent cleaning the beach at Sandy Hook. And this year your younger sisters are taking their turn, hosting a luncheon for all of the Sisters of Charity during this anniversary year.
So, now it’s your turn and I’m really happy and excited for you. I’m also a little jealous of your teachers who will get to go out and see you and support you as you do such important service in our communities.
Before I finish I want to mention one other aspect of this service business. Let’s hear again that excerpt from the SVA mission statement:
Saint Vincent Academy inspires students to develop lifelong commitments to Christian service and a capacity for hope, compassionate leadership and the desire to transform the world into a more just and peaceful society.
Another thing I learned during my time at SVA is that leadership is the flip side of service. In fact all of us are called to be servant leaders. Someone once wrote, “Servant leadership defines success as giving, and measures achievement by devotion to serving.” I don’t need to tell you this is not how the world defines leadership. The world defines leadership as getting people to do what the leader wants them to do.
You might think that servant leadership is impossible. But, stop and think about the leaders you know right here at SVA – leaders who are not interested in gaining power or wealth or making people do things that aren’t good for them. Instead, here at SVA you see servant leadership in action – leaders who have given away their lives in service to you and to the generations who have gone before you.
And stop and think of the greatest of all servant leaders, Jesus of Nazareth. In church on Holy Thursday we’ll tell the story of the Last Supper when Jesus got on his knees and like a servant washed the feet of his friends. And he told them that this is how they – how we – are supposed to treat one another. We are supposed to be servant leaders.
And if you go into SIC with an open heart, then not only will you be serving. You will also be a servant leader.
So, that’s it. Now it’s your turn to pay your rent. Now it’s your turn to say “I will, with God’s help.” Now it’s your turn to be sent forth from this remarkable school to serve your sisters and brothers out in a world that desperately needs your service. But more than that, now it’s your turn to begin – or to continue - your lives of servant leadership. I’ll be praying for you. May God continue to bless this generation and to bless St. Vincent Academy.
Friday, March 19, 2010
Sunday, March 14, 2010
Surprised by Joy
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
March 14, 2010
Year C: The Fourth Sunday in Lent
(Joshua 5:9-12)
Psalm 32
2 Corinthians 5:16-21
Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32
Surprised by Joy
We’ve already reached the fourth Sunday in Lent and if you’ve been coming to church regularly over the past few weeks, by now you may have gotten used to our somewhat toned-down atmosphere here. George Hayman has a running joke that his wife the rector has forbidden the use of Joy dish detergent during the season of Lent. While that’s not true - I think - Lent, of course, is a season for penance and sacrifice and reflection and so our surroundings here at church are designed to reflect that. In an effort to create the appropriate atmosphere all the shiny items are either put away or covered up with purple cloth.
Rather than our usual sparkling silver chalices and patens, we use duller ceramics. Just the other day a parishioner was bemoaning that there aren’t any great Lenten tunes. I’ll defer to Anne’s judgment about that, but certainly the music is more somber than usual. At our Rite I service we say the Prayer of Humble Access before communion, calling us to humility before we receive the Body and Blood of Christ:
“We do not presume to come to this thy Table, O merciful Lord, trusting in our own righteousness, but in thy manifold and great mercies. We are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under thy Table…”
On one level the Prayer of Humble Access offers a powerful reminder of our sinfulness and unworthiness and calls us to repentance before we approach the Lord’s Table.
Lent, like all of the church’s seasons, is an artificial creation designed to make a theological point. Lent reminds us of our sinfulness and challenges us to make sacrifices, to change our ways, to remind ourselves of our total dependence on God. Lent is especially important for you and me – people living in this rich and comfortable society.
Some people, though, don’t need this artificial creation to remind them of sacrifices and dependence on God. When our Presiding Bishop recently visited Haiti, she rightly told the suffering people there that they could skip Lent this year – they had already experienced a real world Lent. They could and should skip ahead to Easter – skip ahead to the joy of the Resurrection, to the joy that comes from knowing that for Jesus and for us death is not the end.
Of course, it’s not just people in Haiti or Chile who have already experienced a real world Lent. There are people right here in our community, right here in our congregation who are experiencing a real world Lent. There are people facing serious illness or are caring for someone who is ill. There are people who have lost their jobs and there are people afraid of when they will get the dreaded visit or call from a supervisor telling them to clear out their desks. There are people who are depressed and anxious. There are people filled with regret and remorse.
Many of us right here have already experienced a real world Lent.
Yet, even in the midst of artificial Lent and even in the midst of real world Lent, it’s always the mission and purpose of the Church to proclaim the Good News. In fact the Prayer of Humble Access proclaims joyful Good News too: We say to God, “But thou art the same Lord whose property is always to have mercy.”
During Lent we cover up the crosses and put away the silver, but the Church can never ban joy. And to remind us of the joy that is at the heart of the Christian message, today we put away the purple and bring out the rose vestments and hangings. We set aside this fourth Sunday in Lent is as Laetare Sunday, as rejoice Sunday.
And if we pay attention, if we keep our eyes open, even in the midst of artificial and real world Lents, we may find ourselves, to borrow the title of a book by C.S. Lewis, surprised by joy. Even in the midst of our own struggles and pain, we may find ourselves surprised by joy.
Take a moment and think about just last weekend here at Grace Church and see if we’re not surprised by joy. Twenty of the men had a retreat that was filled with honest and prayerful discussion about the big issues of life and faith. Meanwhile at church, I hear Jacki Connell led a fine First Friday and the next morning Dorothy Hayes and Sue Mangina coordinated the successful second annual craft day. Mary Lea Crawley put together a wonderful Help Haiti Sunday encouraging the children to come up with creative ways to raise money for the people of that devastated country. And to add to the joy, an anonymous parishioner generously offered to match the money raised by the children. Together they raised about $1000 for Haiti. Communion was brought to faithful people over at Pine Acres and Harmonium had one of its most successful concerts ever. And at the end of the day one tired priest and a Confirmation class of 13 lively kids talked about how God makes an unbreakable bond with us in baptism.
If we pay attention even in the midst of Lent we may find that we are surprised by joy.
And if we paid attention to today’s lessons we may very well have been surprised by joy. Today’s gospel lesson is one of the all-time greats, what’s usually called the Parable of the Prodigal Son. It’s found only in the Gospel of Luke and captures our imagination because Jesus gives us a parable that stretches us to imagine how we would act if we were the prodigal son, the older brother or the father. Or maybe we don’t have to imagine. I remember hearing someone say the longer he lived, eventually he had played all of the parts.
Since we call it the Parable of the Prodigal Son it’s natural for us to think that the parable is really about this wayward young man who squanders his inheritance, and ends up begging to be taken back in, not as a son but as a hired hand.
When we stop and think about it, though, this great parable is not mostly about the prodigal son. His is an all-too-common, everyday story. Jesus’ great parable is about someone much more unusual. Jesus’ parable is about the loving father.
When we look at this loving and forgiving father, just as when we look at Jesus, we see what God is really like. “But thou art the same Lord whose property is to always have mercy.” No matter how we’ve gone astray, God is ready to welcome us back with forgiveness and open arms. And we might very well find ourselves surprised by joy.
Whenever I think of this parable I’m reminded of a priest friend of mine. He had been rector of a big suburban parish and lost everything – his church and some of his family, his sense of self – to the ravages of alcoholism. After going through rehab and beginning the road to recovery he finally worked up the courage to make an appointment with the bishop to see if he might have a future in the Church. Many times he told the story of waiting nervously outside the bishop’s office. Suddenly the bishop came out of his office and without saying a word, walked over, embraced him and welcomed him back to the church.
And my friend was surprised by joy.
St. Paul is someone else who was surprised by joy. Today we heard a passage from what we call the Second Letter of Paul to the Corinthians. Most scholars, however, think that this letter is actually a collection of letters from Paul to Corinth that were stitched together by a later editor.
Paul’s story is amazing – he never knew Jesus during his earthly lifetime. In fact, he had persecuted early followers of Jesus. Later he had a powerful encounter with the resurrected Christ that dramatically changes his direction. He spent the rest of his life traveling around the Mediterranean telling people the Good News about Jesus and setting up Christian congregations.
One of those congregations was in the rich Greek port city of Corinth. The Corinthian congregation gave Paul a lot of trouble. After he was gone they were tempted by other, probably Jewish-Christian, missionaries who offered a different kind of gospel and were perhaps more eloquent and better-looking than Paul. If you read all of Second Corinthians you find that Paul gets very angry at and hurt by the church in Corinth.
We don’t know if Paul was familiar with the parable of the prodigal son and his loving father, but Paul definitely understood that in Jesus we see that God is merciful and loving. And Paul definitely understood that we are called to also be loving and merciful.
He writes to his troublesome congregation in Corinth, “…In Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting the ministry of reconciliation to us.”
So, just like the loving father in the parable. Just like the bishop in my story, Paul set aside his hurts and disappointments, and opened his arms in forgiveness and welcome for the people of Corinth.
And today, if we keep our eyes and hearts open, even in the midst of our artificial and real world Lents, as we receive forgiveness of our sins, as we offer peace to our fellow Christians, as we receive the Body and Blood of Christ, as we donate pajamas or drop food into the bin, today we also may find ourselves surprised by joy.
Amen.
March 14, 2010
Year C: The Fourth Sunday in Lent
(Joshua 5:9-12)
Psalm 32
2 Corinthians 5:16-21
Luke 15:1-3, 11b-32
Surprised by Joy
We’ve already reached the fourth Sunday in Lent and if you’ve been coming to church regularly over the past few weeks, by now you may have gotten used to our somewhat toned-down atmosphere here. George Hayman has a running joke that his wife the rector has forbidden the use of Joy dish detergent during the season of Lent. While that’s not true - I think - Lent, of course, is a season for penance and sacrifice and reflection and so our surroundings here at church are designed to reflect that. In an effort to create the appropriate atmosphere all the shiny items are either put away or covered up with purple cloth.
Rather than our usual sparkling silver chalices and patens, we use duller ceramics. Just the other day a parishioner was bemoaning that there aren’t any great Lenten tunes. I’ll defer to Anne’s judgment about that, but certainly the music is more somber than usual. At our Rite I service we say the Prayer of Humble Access before communion, calling us to humility before we receive the Body and Blood of Christ:
“We do not presume to come to this thy Table, O merciful Lord, trusting in our own righteousness, but in thy manifold and great mercies. We are not worthy so much as to gather up the crumbs under thy Table…”
On one level the Prayer of Humble Access offers a powerful reminder of our sinfulness and unworthiness and calls us to repentance before we approach the Lord’s Table.
Lent, like all of the church’s seasons, is an artificial creation designed to make a theological point. Lent reminds us of our sinfulness and challenges us to make sacrifices, to change our ways, to remind ourselves of our total dependence on God. Lent is especially important for you and me – people living in this rich and comfortable society.
Some people, though, don’t need this artificial creation to remind them of sacrifices and dependence on God. When our Presiding Bishop recently visited Haiti, she rightly told the suffering people there that they could skip Lent this year – they had already experienced a real world Lent. They could and should skip ahead to Easter – skip ahead to the joy of the Resurrection, to the joy that comes from knowing that for Jesus and for us death is not the end.
Of course, it’s not just people in Haiti or Chile who have already experienced a real world Lent. There are people right here in our community, right here in our congregation who are experiencing a real world Lent. There are people facing serious illness or are caring for someone who is ill. There are people who have lost their jobs and there are people afraid of when they will get the dreaded visit or call from a supervisor telling them to clear out their desks. There are people who are depressed and anxious. There are people filled with regret and remorse.
Many of us right here have already experienced a real world Lent.
Yet, even in the midst of artificial Lent and even in the midst of real world Lent, it’s always the mission and purpose of the Church to proclaim the Good News. In fact the Prayer of Humble Access proclaims joyful Good News too: We say to God, “But thou art the same Lord whose property is always to have mercy.”
During Lent we cover up the crosses and put away the silver, but the Church can never ban joy. And to remind us of the joy that is at the heart of the Christian message, today we put away the purple and bring out the rose vestments and hangings. We set aside this fourth Sunday in Lent is as Laetare Sunday, as rejoice Sunday.
And if we pay attention, if we keep our eyes open, even in the midst of artificial and real world Lents, we may find ourselves, to borrow the title of a book by C.S. Lewis, surprised by joy. Even in the midst of our own struggles and pain, we may find ourselves surprised by joy.
Take a moment and think about just last weekend here at Grace Church and see if we’re not surprised by joy. Twenty of the men had a retreat that was filled with honest and prayerful discussion about the big issues of life and faith. Meanwhile at church, I hear Jacki Connell led a fine First Friday and the next morning Dorothy Hayes and Sue Mangina coordinated the successful second annual craft day. Mary Lea Crawley put together a wonderful Help Haiti Sunday encouraging the children to come up with creative ways to raise money for the people of that devastated country. And to add to the joy, an anonymous parishioner generously offered to match the money raised by the children. Together they raised about $1000 for Haiti. Communion was brought to faithful people over at Pine Acres and Harmonium had one of its most successful concerts ever. And at the end of the day one tired priest and a Confirmation class of 13 lively kids talked about how God makes an unbreakable bond with us in baptism.
If we pay attention even in the midst of Lent we may find that we are surprised by joy.
And if we paid attention to today’s lessons we may very well have been surprised by joy. Today’s gospel lesson is one of the all-time greats, what’s usually called the Parable of the Prodigal Son. It’s found only in the Gospel of Luke and captures our imagination because Jesus gives us a parable that stretches us to imagine how we would act if we were the prodigal son, the older brother or the father. Or maybe we don’t have to imagine. I remember hearing someone say the longer he lived, eventually he had played all of the parts.
Since we call it the Parable of the Prodigal Son it’s natural for us to think that the parable is really about this wayward young man who squanders his inheritance, and ends up begging to be taken back in, not as a son but as a hired hand.
When we stop and think about it, though, this great parable is not mostly about the prodigal son. His is an all-too-common, everyday story. Jesus’ great parable is about someone much more unusual. Jesus’ parable is about the loving father.
When we look at this loving and forgiving father, just as when we look at Jesus, we see what God is really like. “But thou art the same Lord whose property is to always have mercy.” No matter how we’ve gone astray, God is ready to welcome us back with forgiveness and open arms. And we might very well find ourselves surprised by joy.
Whenever I think of this parable I’m reminded of a priest friend of mine. He had been rector of a big suburban parish and lost everything – his church and some of his family, his sense of self – to the ravages of alcoholism. After going through rehab and beginning the road to recovery he finally worked up the courage to make an appointment with the bishop to see if he might have a future in the Church. Many times he told the story of waiting nervously outside the bishop’s office. Suddenly the bishop came out of his office and without saying a word, walked over, embraced him and welcomed him back to the church.
And my friend was surprised by joy.
St. Paul is someone else who was surprised by joy. Today we heard a passage from what we call the Second Letter of Paul to the Corinthians. Most scholars, however, think that this letter is actually a collection of letters from Paul to Corinth that were stitched together by a later editor.
Paul’s story is amazing – he never knew Jesus during his earthly lifetime. In fact, he had persecuted early followers of Jesus. Later he had a powerful encounter with the resurrected Christ that dramatically changes his direction. He spent the rest of his life traveling around the Mediterranean telling people the Good News about Jesus and setting up Christian congregations.
One of those congregations was in the rich Greek port city of Corinth. The Corinthian congregation gave Paul a lot of trouble. After he was gone they were tempted by other, probably Jewish-Christian, missionaries who offered a different kind of gospel and were perhaps more eloquent and better-looking than Paul. If you read all of Second Corinthians you find that Paul gets very angry at and hurt by the church in Corinth.
We don’t know if Paul was familiar with the parable of the prodigal son and his loving father, but Paul definitely understood that in Jesus we see that God is merciful and loving. And Paul definitely understood that we are called to also be loving and merciful.
He writes to his troublesome congregation in Corinth, “…In Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting the ministry of reconciliation to us.”
So, just like the loving father in the parable. Just like the bishop in my story, Paul set aside his hurts and disappointments, and opened his arms in forgiveness and welcome for the people of Corinth.
And today, if we keep our eyes and hearts open, even in the midst of our artificial and real world Lents, as we receive forgiveness of our sins, as we offer peace to our fellow Christians, as we receive the Body and Blood of Christ, as we donate pajamas or drop food into the bin, today we also may find ourselves surprised by joy.
Amen.
Monday, March 01, 2010
Patrick of Ireland
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
The Messenger
March 2010
Curate’s Corner
Patrick of Ireland
One of the great gifts and distinctive features of Grace Church is that we have at least one public worship service every day of the year. As I have heard Lauren mention many times, these daily services “bathe” our church in prayer. Day after day we give thanks to God for the many blessings of our lives. We pray for people throughout the Anglican Communion, the Episcopal Church and Grace Church. Each day we pray for all of those on our parish prayer list – lifting up to God some people we may know well and the many more who are unknown, yet all are in some kind of spiritual or physical need.
Another major benefit of the daily services is that we honor the holy men and women of Christian history who are commemorated on our church calendar. The guidelines for inclusion on our church calendar adopted by the General Convention of the Episcopal Church call for people who demonstrate heroic faith, love, goodness of life, joyousness, service to others for Christ’s sake, and devotion. I remember in seminary a professor once said that we should “become friends” with these faithful people who can serve as inspiring examples for us as we try to live Christian lives in our own time and place.
Our calendar includes both relatively obscure figures from the Episcopal and Anglican past and those who are well-known throughout the Christian world. In the month of March, for example, we honor the obscure Cuthbert (7th Century bishop of Lindisfarne) and also Patrick, the famed 5th Century bishop and missionary of Ireland. There’s just one problem – during Lent we refrain from celebrating the lesser feasts. That means that this year Cuthbert, Patrick and the other holy people commemorated in March will not get their due. Inspired by some Irish pride, I thought I would use part of my space here to write a little about Patrick, a holy and brave man whose name, unfortunately, has become closely associated with the over-consumption of alcohol on and around March 17, the day the Church sets aside in his honor.
Although Patrick wrote an autobiography, Confessions, considered fairly reliable by most scholars, the details of his life remain sketchy and blanketed by charming mythology. Patrick was born in Britain (not Ireland!) around the year 390. His father was both a deacon and a member of the local town council. When Patrick was 16 he was captured by pirates and held in captivity for six years in Ireland where he worked as a shepherd. When he was about 21, Patrick made his escape back home to Britain – a daring and risky adventure that he claimed was inspired and sustained by God.
Patrick was unsurprisingly changed by such difficult and profound experiences. He now took his Christian faith very seriously and was ordained a priest and also apparently a bishop. After his time as a slave in Ireland, it is remarkable that Patrick chose to return to Ireland as a free man, determined to convert the Irish to Christianity. He spent the rest of his life spreading the Good News to all, from chieftains to peasants. Like many missionaries before and since, he built on the local pagan religions, converting their sacred sites to Christian shrines. He ordained men to the priesthood and established convents and monasteries. Patrick died probably in 461.
The Gospel appointed for the Feast of St. Patrick is Matthew 28:16-20, known as “the great commission.” At the conclusion of Matthew’s gospel the Risen Jesus appears to the eleven disciples and presents them with what came to be seen as the mission of the Church: “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And remember I am with you always, to the end of the age.”
A millennium and a half ago Patrick heard that call and devoted his life to proclaiming the Good News of Jesus in the land that had once held him captive. We live in a very different time and place, yet we are also challenged to find ways to spread the word about Jesus. For a few of us maybe that means imitating Patrick and going off to a strange land. Most of us, however, have the perhaps more difficult job of spreading the Gospel through our deeds and words right here in Morris County.
Wherever we live our Christian lives we can have that same confidence of Patrick that Christ is with us always. This confidence is captured beautifully in St. Patrick’s Breastplate, a hymn attributed to the great missionary of Ireland:
Christ be with me, Christ within me, Christ behind me, Christ before me, Christ beside me, Christ to win me, Christ to comfort and restore me. Christ beneath me, Christ above me, Christ in quiet, Christ in danger, Christ in hearts of all that love me, Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.
The Messenger
March 2010
Curate’s Corner
Patrick of Ireland
One of the great gifts and distinctive features of Grace Church is that we have at least one public worship service every day of the year. As I have heard Lauren mention many times, these daily services “bathe” our church in prayer. Day after day we give thanks to God for the many blessings of our lives. We pray for people throughout the Anglican Communion, the Episcopal Church and Grace Church. Each day we pray for all of those on our parish prayer list – lifting up to God some people we may know well and the many more who are unknown, yet all are in some kind of spiritual or physical need.
Another major benefit of the daily services is that we honor the holy men and women of Christian history who are commemorated on our church calendar. The guidelines for inclusion on our church calendar adopted by the General Convention of the Episcopal Church call for people who demonstrate heroic faith, love, goodness of life, joyousness, service to others for Christ’s sake, and devotion. I remember in seminary a professor once said that we should “become friends” with these faithful people who can serve as inspiring examples for us as we try to live Christian lives in our own time and place.
Our calendar includes both relatively obscure figures from the Episcopal and Anglican past and those who are well-known throughout the Christian world. In the month of March, for example, we honor the obscure Cuthbert (7th Century bishop of Lindisfarne) and also Patrick, the famed 5th Century bishop and missionary of Ireland. There’s just one problem – during Lent we refrain from celebrating the lesser feasts. That means that this year Cuthbert, Patrick and the other holy people commemorated in March will not get their due. Inspired by some Irish pride, I thought I would use part of my space here to write a little about Patrick, a holy and brave man whose name, unfortunately, has become closely associated with the over-consumption of alcohol on and around March 17, the day the Church sets aside in his honor.
Although Patrick wrote an autobiography, Confessions, considered fairly reliable by most scholars, the details of his life remain sketchy and blanketed by charming mythology. Patrick was born in Britain (not Ireland!) around the year 390. His father was both a deacon and a member of the local town council. When Patrick was 16 he was captured by pirates and held in captivity for six years in Ireland where he worked as a shepherd. When he was about 21, Patrick made his escape back home to Britain – a daring and risky adventure that he claimed was inspired and sustained by God.
Patrick was unsurprisingly changed by such difficult and profound experiences. He now took his Christian faith very seriously and was ordained a priest and also apparently a bishop. After his time as a slave in Ireland, it is remarkable that Patrick chose to return to Ireland as a free man, determined to convert the Irish to Christianity. He spent the rest of his life spreading the Good News to all, from chieftains to peasants. Like many missionaries before and since, he built on the local pagan religions, converting their sacred sites to Christian shrines. He ordained men to the priesthood and established convents and monasteries. Patrick died probably in 461.
The Gospel appointed for the Feast of St. Patrick is Matthew 28:16-20, known as “the great commission.” At the conclusion of Matthew’s gospel the Risen Jesus appears to the eleven disciples and presents them with what came to be seen as the mission of the Church: “Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything I have commanded you. And remember I am with you always, to the end of the age.”
A millennium and a half ago Patrick heard that call and devoted his life to proclaiming the Good News of Jesus in the land that had once held him captive. We live in a very different time and place, yet we are also challenged to find ways to spread the word about Jesus. For a few of us maybe that means imitating Patrick and going off to a strange land. Most of us, however, have the perhaps more difficult job of spreading the Gospel through our deeds and words right here in Morris County.
Wherever we live our Christian lives we can have that same confidence of Patrick that Christ is with us always. This confidence is captured beautifully in St. Patrick’s Breastplate, a hymn attributed to the great missionary of Ireland:
Christ be with me, Christ within me, Christ behind me, Christ before me, Christ beside me, Christ to win me, Christ to comfort and restore me. Christ beneath me, Christ above me, Christ in quiet, Christ in danger, Christ in hearts of all that love me, Christ in mouth of friend and stranger.
Sunday, February 28, 2010
God Cuts a Deal: The Joy of Confession and Repentance
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
February 28, 2010
Year C: The Second Sunday in Lent
Genesis 15:1-12, 17-18
Psalm 27
(Philippians 3:17-4:1)
Luke 13:31-35
God Cuts a Deal: The Joy of Confession and Repentance
As part of our service of Holy Eucharist we always say some form of the confession and then either Lauren or I stand and offer God’s forgiveness for our sins. When you stop and think about what we say and do and believe happens each Sunday, the only response is to feel awe. We offer our repentance and each time God offers forgiveness.
But, the truth is that for those of us who come to church a lot the service can become pretty much rote – often we don’t stop and think about it much at all. The confession and the absolution can become simply the words we say and hear before we get to the peace – when we get to take a break and say hi to our friends, our parents, our kids. Or, for some of us, the peace is the time which we just grin and bear it until we get to announcements and the rest of the service.
Since confession and absolution can become overly familiar and routine, during Lent, during this season of repentance, we start the service with the Penitential Order. Hopefully putting our confession and absolution up front gets our attention and prompts us to say these familiar words more mindfully.
But, sometimes putting the confession at the start of the service may still not seem like enough. Sometimes – maybe because we believe we have done something so serious –we still don’t feel forgiven. When we feel that way then it might be time for sacramental confession, one-on-one with a priest. As our friend Bernie Poppe, rector of St. George’s in Maplewood, recently pointed out in a sermon, most Episcopalians are unaware that we have that kind of confession in the Episcopal Church. But we do –it’s right there in the prayer book, “Reconciliation of a Penitent” starting on page 447.
Those of you, who, like me, grew up as a Roman Catholic, may be feeling a little anxious right now. I went to a Catholic grammar school, and by and large I liked the nuns and priests of the school and the parish. But, the thought of going into the dark confessional and revealing my sins to the priest was terrifying.
I can remember us as kids lined up, waiting to go in and face the music. To be honest, at least some of us strained to make out the mumbles we could hear coming through the confessional door. When our classmates would come out, we’d scan their faces to get a hint of just how bad it had been and what kind of penance they now had to make. Usually the boy or girl who had just received absolution of all of his or her sins, would shyly avoid eye contact, head back to a pew and begin to recite the required number of Our Fathers and Hail Marys.
The confessional itself was a weird and forbidding space – a small, dark room with a screen separating me from the priest. Most of the time I worried that the priest could recognize my voice as I revealed the sin of not being nice to my sister, talking back to my parents, and not cleaning my room.
This was the 1970s – a time of great change in the church. During that time the confessionals were ditched and replaced with face-to-face confession in an all-too-bright room. They actually had a screen available if you’d still prefer that level of privacy. From my point of view we had gone from very bad to even worse.
My last confession as a Roman Catholic was in high school on a retreat. Confession was offered as an option, and I remember thinking now that I was a mature teenager it was time to get over my fear of confession. I sat face-to-face alone with the priest, took a deep breath and told him my sins. So far, so good. Then he told me to say the Act of Contrition. At first I thought he meant later. But then as he looked at me, waiting, I realized he meant, say the Act of Contrition now.
There was just one problem – I had never memorized the Act of Contrition. Not good. So that was the last of my unpleasant experiences with confession.
I think I can speak for Lauren, that if you should ever decide to make your confession to us, it will be a much more positive experience.
The result of those childhood confessions is that it wasn’t until I was an adult, with sins much bigger than not cleaning my room, that I came to appreciate the joy of confession and repentance.
The joy of confession and repentance sounds like an oxymoron – but it’s true. And this might come as surprise but the source of this joy can be found in today’s strange and gory lesson from Genesis.
We’re dropped in the middle of the story of Abraham, or Abram as he’s still called here. He has already received instruction from God to leave his homeland in Mesopotamia and headed to Canaan. The passage we heard today is set right after Abraham has won a victory against Eastern kings and rescued his nephew Lot who was being held captive.
Despite his victory, Abraham is still concerned that he is childless – a major problem for the leader of a people. Yet, despite the hopelessness of his situation, God makes a bold promise to Abraham – God promises that his descendants will be as numerous as the stars in the night sky – and Abraham takes God’s word for it; Abraham places his trust in God.
Then God makes a seemingly bizarre request for a heifer, a female goat, a ram, a turtledove and a young pigeon. Abraham acquires these creatures and cuts the heifer, goat and ram in two.
Then as Abraham is sleeping the author of Genesis tells us, “a smoking pot and a flaming torch passed between these pieces. On that day the LORD made a covenant with Abram…”
In turns out that this strange story reflects the way contracts or covenants were made in the ancient Middle East. Animals would be cut in two and the people making the contract or the covenant would pass between the two parts, symbolizing that they would end up like the animal if they violated the covenant. In fact, in Hebrew the expression is to “cut a covenant” and may be the source of the English expression to “cut a deal.”
So God makes a covenant, God cuts a deal, with Abraham and his descendants. But notice it’s only God who passes between the broken animals. Abraham is not required to pass between them. This is a profound image and statement.
In the covenant God is promising to be faithful to God’s people. God is willing to be held accountable for God’s end of deal. But since God knows that the people’s faith will falter and since God knows that the people will not hold up their end of the covenant, God spares them – spares us - the consequences of breaking the deal.
At first this covenant is understood as a promise of land, but over time the meaning of the covenant will deepen. The covenant – this deal cut by God - will be understood as God’s total faithfulness, God’s persistent reaching out to be in relationship, and God’s constant offer of forgiveness.
Through this weird and gory ancient ritual, God cuts an amazingly good deal with us –if we repent, if we turn back to God, then God stands ready to forgive.
Which is a very good thing, since throughout history and throughout our lives, over and over we turn away from God and are in need of forgiveness.
Which brings us to Jesus and today’s snippet from Luke’s Gospel. Whatever their motive, some Pharisees warn Jesus that his life is in danger.
Then Luke packs a lot into this little passage. Jesus looks ahead to the Passion and the Resurrection. He says, “on the third day I finish my work.” Jesus looks back to the history of Israel – over and over God has inspired prophets and over and over they were rejected, just as Jesus himself will be rejected.
But what jumps out at me is the way Jesus describes God’s feelings toward Jerusalem, toward God’s people: “How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!”
“As a hen gathers her brood under her wings.” What a beautiful image of God’s love and care for us.
No matter what sins we are carrying around with us, it’s not too late. God has cut a deal with us. No matter what we have done or not done, God is still like a hen gathering her brood under her wings; God is still ready to gather us back in with forgiveness. We can make our confession – alone in our room, or here in church, or with a priest.
We can make our confession because God has cut a deal with us - and we can know the joy of confession and repentance.
Amen.
February 28, 2010
Year C: The Second Sunday in Lent
Genesis 15:1-12, 17-18
Psalm 27
(Philippians 3:17-4:1)
Luke 13:31-35
God Cuts a Deal: The Joy of Confession and Repentance
As part of our service of Holy Eucharist we always say some form of the confession and then either Lauren or I stand and offer God’s forgiveness for our sins. When you stop and think about what we say and do and believe happens each Sunday, the only response is to feel awe. We offer our repentance and each time God offers forgiveness.
But, the truth is that for those of us who come to church a lot the service can become pretty much rote – often we don’t stop and think about it much at all. The confession and the absolution can become simply the words we say and hear before we get to the peace – when we get to take a break and say hi to our friends, our parents, our kids. Or, for some of us, the peace is the time which we just grin and bear it until we get to announcements and the rest of the service.
Since confession and absolution can become overly familiar and routine, during Lent, during this season of repentance, we start the service with the Penitential Order. Hopefully putting our confession and absolution up front gets our attention and prompts us to say these familiar words more mindfully.
But, sometimes putting the confession at the start of the service may still not seem like enough. Sometimes – maybe because we believe we have done something so serious –we still don’t feel forgiven. When we feel that way then it might be time for sacramental confession, one-on-one with a priest. As our friend Bernie Poppe, rector of St. George’s in Maplewood, recently pointed out in a sermon, most Episcopalians are unaware that we have that kind of confession in the Episcopal Church. But we do –it’s right there in the prayer book, “Reconciliation of a Penitent” starting on page 447.
Those of you, who, like me, grew up as a Roman Catholic, may be feeling a little anxious right now. I went to a Catholic grammar school, and by and large I liked the nuns and priests of the school and the parish. But, the thought of going into the dark confessional and revealing my sins to the priest was terrifying.
I can remember us as kids lined up, waiting to go in and face the music. To be honest, at least some of us strained to make out the mumbles we could hear coming through the confessional door. When our classmates would come out, we’d scan their faces to get a hint of just how bad it had been and what kind of penance they now had to make. Usually the boy or girl who had just received absolution of all of his or her sins, would shyly avoid eye contact, head back to a pew and begin to recite the required number of Our Fathers and Hail Marys.
The confessional itself was a weird and forbidding space – a small, dark room with a screen separating me from the priest. Most of the time I worried that the priest could recognize my voice as I revealed the sin of not being nice to my sister, talking back to my parents, and not cleaning my room.
This was the 1970s – a time of great change in the church. During that time the confessionals were ditched and replaced with face-to-face confession in an all-too-bright room. They actually had a screen available if you’d still prefer that level of privacy. From my point of view we had gone from very bad to even worse.
My last confession as a Roman Catholic was in high school on a retreat. Confession was offered as an option, and I remember thinking now that I was a mature teenager it was time to get over my fear of confession. I sat face-to-face alone with the priest, took a deep breath and told him my sins. So far, so good. Then he told me to say the Act of Contrition. At first I thought he meant later. But then as he looked at me, waiting, I realized he meant, say the Act of Contrition now.
There was just one problem – I had never memorized the Act of Contrition. Not good. So that was the last of my unpleasant experiences with confession.
I think I can speak for Lauren, that if you should ever decide to make your confession to us, it will be a much more positive experience.
The result of those childhood confessions is that it wasn’t until I was an adult, with sins much bigger than not cleaning my room, that I came to appreciate the joy of confession and repentance.
The joy of confession and repentance sounds like an oxymoron – but it’s true. And this might come as surprise but the source of this joy can be found in today’s strange and gory lesson from Genesis.
We’re dropped in the middle of the story of Abraham, or Abram as he’s still called here. He has already received instruction from God to leave his homeland in Mesopotamia and headed to Canaan. The passage we heard today is set right after Abraham has won a victory against Eastern kings and rescued his nephew Lot who was being held captive.
Despite his victory, Abraham is still concerned that he is childless – a major problem for the leader of a people. Yet, despite the hopelessness of his situation, God makes a bold promise to Abraham – God promises that his descendants will be as numerous as the stars in the night sky – and Abraham takes God’s word for it; Abraham places his trust in God.
Then God makes a seemingly bizarre request for a heifer, a female goat, a ram, a turtledove and a young pigeon. Abraham acquires these creatures and cuts the heifer, goat and ram in two.
Then as Abraham is sleeping the author of Genesis tells us, “a smoking pot and a flaming torch passed between these pieces. On that day the LORD made a covenant with Abram…”
In turns out that this strange story reflects the way contracts or covenants were made in the ancient Middle East. Animals would be cut in two and the people making the contract or the covenant would pass between the two parts, symbolizing that they would end up like the animal if they violated the covenant. In fact, in Hebrew the expression is to “cut a covenant” and may be the source of the English expression to “cut a deal.”
So God makes a covenant, God cuts a deal, with Abraham and his descendants. But notice it’s only God who passes between the broken animals. Abraham is not required to pass between them. This is a profound image and statement.
In the covenant God is promising to be faithful to God’s people. God is willing to be held accountable for God’s end of deal. But since God knows that the people’s faith will falter and since God knows that the people will not hold up their end of the covenant, God spares them – spares us - the consequences of breaking the deal.
At first this covenant is understood as a promise of land, but over time the meaning of the covenant will deepen. The covenant – this deal cut by God - will be understood as God’s total faithfulness, God’s persistent reaching out to be in relationship, and God’s constant offer of forgiveness.
Through this weird and gory ancient ritual, God cuts an amazingly good deal with us –if we repent, if we turn back to God, then God stands ready to forgive.
Which is a very good thing, since throughout history and throughout our lives, over and over we turn away from God and are in need of forgiveness.
Which brings us to Jesus and today’s snippet from Luke’s Gospel. Whatever their motive, some Pharisees warn Jesus that his life is in danger.
Then Luke packs a lot into this little passage. Jesus looks ahead to the Passion and the Resurrection. He says, “on the third day I finish my work.” Jesus looks back to the history of Israel – over and over God has inspired prophets and over and over they were rejected, just as Jesus himself will be rejected.
But what jumps out at me is the way Jesus describes God’s feelings toward Jerusalem, toward God’s people: “How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!”
“As a hen gathers her brood under her wings.” What a beautiful image of God’s love and care for us.
No matter what sins we are carrying around with us, it’s not too late. God has cut a deal with us. No matter what we have done or not done, God is still like a hen gathering her brood under her wings; God is still ready to gather us back in with forgiveness. We can make our confession – alone in our room, or here in church, or with a priest.
We can make our confession because God has cut a deal with us - and we can know the joy of confession and repentance.
Amen.
Sunday, February 14, 2010
The Transfiguration: An Overlook
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
February 14, 2010
Year C: The Last Sunday after Epiphany
Exodus 34:29-35
Psalm 99
(2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2)
Luke 9:28-43a
The Transfiguration: An Overlook
I have a question - when you’re driving on a highway and you see a sign that says “Scenic Overlook Ahead” do you usually take the time to pull over and check it out?
I never do. Maybe it’s because I’m focused on getting to wherever it is I’m going or maybe having lived nearly my whole life in the city I’m just not that interested in scenic views. But whatever the reason I always just keep on driving right past the scenic overlook.
Sometimes, though, I’m not the one driving so it’s not my choice on whether we stop to look at the scenic overlook.
For example, on our J2A pilgrimage to California – about a year and a half ago now – I was happy to let Chris Wilde drive our large rental van up and down the coast of California. I remember one day we drove pretty far south on Highway 1 – the curvy road that hugs the Pacific Coast.
Near Big Sur we spotted a scenic overlook and Chris pulled over so we could take a look. It was nice to get out of the van to stretch my legs, but I remember thinking we’ve all seen the Pacific Ocean these last few days – you’ve seen it once you’ve seen it all, I thought.
Boy, was I wrong. It was spectacular looking down the steep drop to the ocean, watching the waves crashing onto the narrow strip of beach and slamming into the cliffs. We looked down at the pelicans as they looked down into the ocean on the hunt for something tasty. Once the pelicans spotted something worth the effort, they dove straight down into the ocean like missiles and then back up again with a presumably full gullet.
That scenic overlook gave a glimpse of the big picture – the truth that we live in a world glowing with God’s power. That overlook was one of those moments when I thought, it’s so good to be alive, to live in God’s beautiful world and to be able to do this work here and now.
I was glad that Chris had made the decision to pull over and check out that scenic overlook.
Sometimes we stumble upon scenic overlooks without seeking them out.
You all know about Overlook Hospital in Summit. I’ve been there a few times to visit parishioners – but I definitely don’t know it nearly as well as Morristown Hospital and I don’t think I ever consciously thought about its name – Overlook.
Anyway, a few months ago I went to visit someone at Overlook Hospital and I must have made a wrong turn and ended up in an unfamiliar hospital parking garage. It was nearly full so I had to park on the upper deck. By the time I parked and got out of the car I was very irritated at myself for having gotten lost and annoyed that I’d have to walk what looked to be about three miles to the hospital. I never bothered to look around at my surroundings.
After the visit I walked back the three miles to my car but by now I had calmed down. When I got to my car, I looked up and discovered this spectacular view – the city of Summit and the hospital called Overlook lived up to their names.
Down below I saw the New Jersey Transit trains snaking along the side of the cliff as they made their way in and out of Summit. And then I looked out to what from this height looked to be a vast plain stretching all the way to the skylines of Newark and New York.
I just stood there for a few minutes – standing atop what I later learned is the Second Watchung Mountain. Once again this overlook gave me a glimpse of the big picture – the truth that we live in a world glowing with God’s power. That overlook was one of those moments when I thought, it’s so good to be alive, to live in God’s beautiful world and to be able to do this work here and now.
Today we’ve come to the last Sunday after Epiphany – the season between Christmas and Lent when each week in church we retell the stories that manifest Jesus’ identity and power.
We began with Epiphany itself when the wise men recognize Jesus’ identity as king. Then we retold the story of Jesus’ baptism when he heard the voice from heaven say, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”
We heard two stories in which Jesus is revealed as a sign of God’s power and abundance – first, he turned water into fine wine at the wedding at Cana and second he told his fishermen friends to cast their nets on the other side, where they haul in the catch of their lives.
We imagined Jesus in his hometown synagogue telling the congregation that he was the fulfillment of prophecy.
For these past few weeks we’ve told epiphany story after epiphany story and on this last Sunday after Epiphany we tell two stories. These are Epiphany stories but they are also overlook stories.
First we tell the story of Moses coming down off the mountain with second set of tablets containing the law. In a powerful image, the author of the Book of Exodus tells us that since Moses had been so close to God, his face shined. His face shined so much that the Israelites were terrified and Moses covered his face with a veil.
Moses had the ultimate overlook experience on Mt. Sinai. In the most dramatic way imaginable, Moses saw the big picture - that we live a world glowing with God’s power. And Moses is marked by this encounter on the mountain.
The second story is the story of the Transfiguration. Once again it’s an overlook experience – Jesus takes Peter, John and James up on the mountain to pray. There the three disciples see Jesus transfigured and talking with Moses and Elijah. As if that weren’t enough for one overlook experience, they then hear the voice of God, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!”
J
esus had heard very similar words at his baptism – but that was private, just between God the Father and Jesus the Son. This time God speaks publicly - the three disciples hear this confirmation, this manifestation of Jesus’ identity and power.
The three disciples have a powerful overlook experience. They saw the big picture – that we live in a world glowing with God’s power. They recognized that God’s power was present in a unique way in God’s Son, Jesus.
So who can blame Peter for wanting to commemorate this event, to hold on to this overlook experience, by building shrines right there on the mountain.
Who can blame Peter, because the truth is that these overlook experiences are fleeting, we come down off the mountain and back to what seems like the humdrum, the routine, the everyday.
After Moses came down off the mountain, he and the Israelites still had a long journey, filled with wrong turns and betrayals, before reaching the Promised Land. And Moses himself won’t quite make it the journey’s end. Who could blame Moses if in the difficult days ahead he yearned for that time on the mountain with God – that overlook experience when he saw the big picture – when he experienced God’s glow.
And after Jesus and his disciples came down off the mountain, Luke tells us they are immediately thrust back into the messiness and the pain of life – a boy is sick and the disciples are powerless to help. Only Jesus has the power to heal him.
Who could blame Jesus and his disciples if they yearned to be back up on that mountain – back having that overlook experience seeing the big picture, seeing that the world is glowing with God’s power.
I think most, if not all, of us have had these overlook experiences. Even at low elevations there are moments in life when we glimpse the big picture – when we see the world is glowing with God’s power.
Maybe it was falling in love, or the birth of a child. Maybe it was reconnecting with an old friend, or experiencing the joy of helping someone in need. Maybe it was asking for and receiving forgiveness. Maybe it was hearing a beautiful piece of music or looking at a night sky filled with stars.
All of these can be overlook experiences – times when we glimpse the big picture. The challenge is how to hold on to these experiences when we return to the messiness and tedium of everyday life.
And that’s where Lent comes in. Starting on Wednesday, when ashes on our forehead remind us of our total dependence on God’s power, we are given the opportunity to slow down, to be mindful, to pay attention, to sacrifice, to take on some new ministry or service.
Lent gives us the opportunity to bring the epiphanies – the overlook experiences – into our daily lives. Maybe that happens by coming to one of the quiet and simple weekday services here. Maybe that happens by living more mindfully – taking the time to appreciate the ordinary overlook experiences of our lives – the food that we eat, our health, our friends and family. Maybe when we see the sign “Scenic Overlook Ahead” we pull over and check it out.
The Epiphany season is drawing to a close and Lent is about to begin. That means all sorts of changes here at church and maybe in our lives. But, the truth is, all of the church seasons are designed for one purpose – to help us see the overlook experience that is life itself. To help us see that we live in a world glowing with God’s power – and to recognize God’s power uniquely present in Jesus – King of Kings, Son of God, sign of God’s abundance, and fulfillment of prophecy.
Amen.
February 14, 2010
Year C: The Last Sunday after Epiphany
Exodus 34:29-35
Psalm 99
(2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2)
Luke 9:28-43a
The Transfiguration: An Overlook
I have a question - when you’re driving on a highway and you see a sign that says “Scenic Overlook Ahead” do you usually take the time to pull over and check it out?
I never do. Maybe it’s because I’m focused on getting to wherever it is I’m going or maybe having lived nearly my whole life in the city I’m just not that interested in scenic views. But whatever the reason I always just keep on driving right past the scenic overlook.
Sometimes, though, I’m not the one driving so it’s not my choice on whether we stop to look at the scenic overlook.
For example, on our J2A pilgrimage to California – about a year and a half ago now – I was happy to let Chris Wilde drive our large rental van up and down the coast of California. I remember one day we drove pretty far south on Highway 1 – the curvy road that hugs the Pacific Coast.
Near Big Sur we spotted a scenic overlook and Chris pulled over so we could take a look. It was nice to get out of the van to stretch my legs, but I remember thinking we’ve all seen the Pacific Ocean these last few days – you’ve seen it once you’ve seen it all, I thought.
Boy, was I wrong. It was spectacular looking down the steep drop to the ocean, watching the waves crashing onto the narrow strip of beach and slamming into the cliffs. We looked down at the pelicans as they looked down into the ocean on the hunt for something tasty. Once the pelicans spotted something worth the effort, they dove straight down into the ocean like missiles and then back up again with a presumably full gullet.
That scenic overlook gave a glimpse of the big picture – the truth that we live in a world glowing with God’s power. That overlook was one of those moments when I thought, it’s so good to be alive, to live in God’s beautiful world and to be able to do this work here and now.
I was glad that Chris had made the decision to pull over and check out that scenic overlook.
Sometimes we stumble upon scenic overlooks without seeking them out.
You all know about Overlook Hospital in Summit. I’ve been there a few times to visit parishioners – but I definitely don’t know it nearly as well as Morristown Hospital and I don’t think I ever consciously thought about its name – Overlook.
Anyway, a few months ago I went to visit someone at Overlook Hospital and I must have made a wrong turn and ended up in an unfamiliar hospital parking garage. It was nearly full so I had to park on the upper deck. By the time I parked and got out of the car I was very irritated at myself for having gotten lost and annoyed that I’d have to walk what looked to be about three miles to the hospital. I never bothered to look around at my surroundings.
After the visit I walked back the three miles to my car but by now I had calmed down. When I got to my car, I looked up and discovered this spectacular view – the city of Summit and the hospital called Overlook lived up to their names.
Down below I saw the New Jersey Transit trains snaking along the side of the cliff as they made their way in and out of Summit. And then I looked out to what from this height looked to be a vast plain stretching all the way to the skylines of Newark and New York.
I just stood there for a few minutes – standing atop what I later learned is the Second Watchung Mountain. Once again this overlook gave me a glimpse of the big picture – the truth that we live in a world glowing with God’s power. That overlook was one of those moments when I thought, it’s so good to be alive, to live in God’s beautiful world and to be able to do this work here and now.
Today we’ve come to the last Sunday after Epiphany – the season between Christmas and Lent when each week in church we retell the stories that manifest Jesus’ identity and power.
We began with Epiphany itself when the wise men recognize Jesus’ identity as king. Then we retold the story of Jesus’ baptism when he heard the voice from heaven say, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”
We heard two stories in which Jesus is revealed as a sign of God’s power and abundance – first, he turned water into fine wine at the wedding at Cana and second he told his fishermen friends to cast their nets on the other side, where they haul in the catch of their lives.
We imagined Jesus in his hometown synagogue telling the congregation that he was the fulfillment of prophecy.
For these past few weeks we’ve told epiphany story after epiphany story and on this last Sunday after Epiphany we tell two stories. These are Epiphany stories but they are also overlook stories.
First we tell the story of Moses coming down off the mountain with second set of tablets containing the law. In a powerful image, the author of the Book of Exodus tells us that since Moses had been so close to God, his face shined. His face shined so much that the Israelites were terrified and Moses covered his face with a veil.
Moses had the ultimate overlook experience on Mt. Sinai. In the most dramatic way imaginable, Moses saw the big picture - that we live a world glowing with God’s power. And Moses is marked by this encounter on the mountain.
The second story is the story of the Transfiguration. Once again it’s an overlook experience – Jesus takes Peter, John and James up on the mountain to pray. There the three disciples see Jesus transfigured and talking with Moses and Elijah. As if that weren’t enough for one overlook experience, they then hear the voice of God, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!”
J
esus had heard very similar words at his baptism – but that was private, just between God the Father and Jesus the Son. This time God speaks publicly - the three disciples hear this confirmation, this manifestation of Jesus’ identity and power.
The three disciples have a powerful overlook experience. They saw the big picture – that we live in a world glowing with God’s power. They recognized that God’s power was present in a unique way in God’s Son, Jesus.
So who can blame Peter for wanting to commemorate this event, to hold on to this overlook experience, by building shrines right there on the mountain.
Who can blame Peter, because the truth is that these overlook experiences are fleeting, we come down off the mountain and back to what seems like the humdrum, the routine, the everyday.
After Moses came down off the mountain, he and the Israelites still had a long journey, filled with wrong turns and betrayals, before reaching the Promised Land. And Moses himself won’t quite make it the journey’s end. Who could blame Moses if in the difficult days ahead he yearned for that time on the mountain with God – that overlook experience when he saw the big picture – when he experienced God’s glow.
And after Jesus and his disciples came down off the mountain, Luke tells us they are immediately thrust back into the messiness and the pain of life – a boy is sick and the disciples are powerless to help. Only Jesus has the power to heal him.
Who could blame Jesus and his disciples if they yearned to be back up on that mountain – back having that overlook experience seeing the big picture, seeing that the world is glowing with God’s power.
I think most, if not all, of us have had these overlook experiences. Even at low elevations there are moments in life when we glimpse the big picture – when we see the world is glowing with God’s power.
Maybe it was falling in love, or the birth of a child. Maybe it was reconnecting with an old friend, or experiencing the joy of helping someone in need. Maybe it was asking for and receiving forgiveness. Maybe it was hearing a beautiful piece of music or looking at a night sky filled with stars.
All of these can be overlook experiences – times when we glimpse the big picture. The challenge is how to hold on to these experiences when we return to the messiness and tedium of everyday life.
And that’s where Lent comes in. Starting on Wednesday, when ashes on our forehead remind us of our total dependence on God’s power, we are given the opportunity to slow down, to be mindful, to pay attention, to sacrifice, to take on some new ministry or service.
Lent gives us the opportunity to bring the epiphanies – the overlook experiences – into our daily lives. Maybe that happens by coming to one of the quiet and simple weekday services here. Maybe that happens by living more mindfully – taking the time to appreciate the ordinary overlook experiences of our lives – the food that we eat, our health, our friends and family. Maybe when we see the sign “Scenic Overlook Ahead” we pull over and check it out.
The Epiphany season is drawing to a close and Lent is about to begin. That means all sorts of changes here at church and maybe in our lives. But, the truth is, all of the church seasons are designed for one purpose – to help us see the overlook experience that is life itself. To help us see that we live in a world glowing with God’s power – and to recognize God’s power uniquely present in Jesus – King of Kings, Son of God, sign of God’s abundance, and fulfillment of prophecy.
Amen.
Monday, February 01, 2010
Deep Roots
Grace Episcopal Church
Madison, NJ
The Messenger
February 2010
Curate’s Corner
Deep Roots
One of my personal goals since I arrived here has been to figure out why Grace Church is a thriving Christian community at a time when many other churches are in decline. Over the past two and a half years I’ve come up with many different explanations. In one of our first conversations, Lauren chalked it up to daily prayer and I believe that’s undoubtedly true. There is also the fortunate history of strong clergy and lay leadership as well as a clear understanding and support of lay ministry. The bottom line is that every day of the year vital ministry is being done by a wide range of parishioners.
Recently I recognized another source of our strength when I had the eye-opening experience of reading a new book, The Lost History of Christianity by Philip Jenkins. The book’s title might lead you to think that it tells some DaVinci Code-inspired story of lost gospels or secrets about Jesus and his first followers. Instead, Jenkins tells the true and nearly-forgotten story of Christianity in Asia and North Africa, making the case that this was the thriving center of our faith during the first thousand years of its history.
The energetic and confident Middle Eastern churches sent out missionaries to India, Tibet, China and beyond. For many centuries monasteries in places such as Egypt, Asia Minor and Mesopotamia were great centers of spirituality and learning. For the proud and faithful Christians in this part of the world it must have seemed like their sophisticated and rich churches, in some cases founded by Jesus’ first disciples, would last forever.
The sad truth is that for a variety of reasons today Christianity is almost extinct in the Middle East and North Africa. Jenkins devotes a good bit of space to reflecting on why some churches die and others live on, even in the face of long-term persecution. He suggests that some churches die because they become too closely associated with one demographic group or geographic area. On the other hand, Jenkins claims that successful churches “reach broadly across sections of society and make their religion part of the ordinary lived reality of a diverse range of communities.”
In other words, successful churches plant deep roots in their communities.
This is exactly what happens here at Grace Church! It doesn’t take much effort to see the deep roots of our church in many communities. Although we don’t make these connections in an effort to increase our average Sunday attendance, the truth is people join our church because they learn about our many activities or because they are invited by parishioners who are excited to share the good things that are happening here.
Many of our ministries help to deepen our roots in many communities. We have a longstanding connection to the Community Soup Kitchen in Morristown, sending volunteers every other month to prepare a nutritious and delicious lunch while also donating thousands of dollars through our annual “Souper Bowl” fundraiser. We also have a deep connection to St. John’s Church in Dover, the co-sponsoring congregation of the Recycling Ministry. For the past two years, we have sent people and resources to support St. John’s vacation bible school, which provides a summer camp-like service to people in need. Others of us are closely involved with the Church of the Good Shepherd in Ringwood and Apostles House in Newark. Closer to home, many people have benefited from services provided by the Grace Counseling Center. In addition, recently we have been renewing our connection to Project Community Pride, a remarkable family-centered counseling agency supporting some of the most vulnerable people in our communities.
Grace Community Music plays an invaluable role in deepening our roots in the community. Many people have first entered Grace Church to hear a Harmonium concert or a Lenten organ recital or to be entertained by the Halloween Concert. Plus, we have long-term relationships with a host of local musicians and groups. Again, we don’t offer these musical programs to grow our church, but inevitably these events and relationships help us become, in the words of Philip Jenkins, “part of the ordinary lived reality” of people in our community. As one woman who regularly attends our musical events said to me at Bottle Hill Day, “I’m Jewish, but if I were Christian I’d go to Grace Church!”
Finally, many individual parishioners work to deepen our roots in the community. Each week I page through the Madison Eagle looking for stories and photos featuring Grace Church parishioners. Without exception, every week there is always at least one article and picture to cut out and proudly put up on the bulletin board. At our First Friday in May, we are planning to feature parishioners who volunteer outside of church. This has created a wonderful problem; in response to my inquiry in Grace Notes so many people have identified themselves as volunteers that we may have a panel of 40 or more people!
As we begin another year we can – and should – be thankful for Grace Church, our thriving Christian community. We can also give thanks for our deep roots in our communities and continue to look for ways we can be “part of the ordinary lived reality” for our neighbors.
Madison, NJ
The Messenger
February 2010
Curate’s Corner
Deep Roots
One of my personal goals since I arrived here has been to figure out why Grace Church is a thriving Christian community at a time when many other churches are in decline. Over the past two and a half years I’ve come up with many different explanations. In one of our first conversations, Lauren chalked it up to daily prayer and I believe that’s undoubtedly true. There is also the fortunate history of strong clergy and lay leadership as well as a clear understanding and support of lay ministry. The bottom line is that every day of the year vital ministry is being done by a wide range of parishioners.
Recently I recognized another source of our strength when I had the eye-opening experience of reading a new book, The Lost History of Christianity by Philip Jenkins. The book’s title might lead you to think that it tells some DaVinci Code-inspired story of lost gospels or secrets about Jesus and his first followers. Instead, Jenkins tells the true and nearly-forgotten story of Christianity in Asia and North Africa, making the case that this was the thriving center of our faith during the first thousand years of its history.
The energetic and confident Middle Eastern churches sent out missionaries to India, Tibet, China and beyond. For many centuries monasteries in places such as Egypt, Asia Minor and Mesopotamia were great centers of spirituality and learning. For the proud and faithful Christians in this part of the world it must have seemed like their sophisticated and rich churches, in some cases founded by Jesus’ first disciples, would last forever.
The sad truth is that for a variety of reasons today Christianity is almost extinct in the Middle East and North Africa. Jenkins devotes a good bit of space to reflecting on why some churches die and others live on, even in the face of long-term persecution. He suggests that some churches die because they become too closely associated with one demographic group or geographic area. On the other hand, Jenkins claims that successful churches “reach broadly across sections of society and make their religion part of the ordinary lived reality of a diverse range of communities.”
In other words, successful churches plant deep roots in their communities.
This is exactly what happens here at Grace Church! It doesn’t take much effort to see the deep roots of our church in many communities. Although we don’t make these connections in an effort to increase our average Sunday attendance, the truth is people join our church because they learn about our many activities or because they are invited by parishioners who are excited to share the good things that are happening here.
Many of our ministries help to deepen our roots in many communities. We have a longstanding connection to the Community Soup Kitchen in Morristown, sending volunteers every other month to prepare a nutritious and delicious lunch while also donating thousands of dollars through our annual “Souper Bowl” fundraiser. We also have a deep connection to St. John’s Church in Dover, the co-sponsoring congregation of the Recycling Ministry. For the past two years, we have sent people and resources to support St. John’s vacation bible school, which provides a summer camp-like service to people in need. Others of us are closely involved with the Church of the Good Shepherd in Ringwood and Apostles House in Newark. Closer to home, many people have benefited from services provided by the Grace Counseling Center. In addition, recently we have been renewing our connection to Project Community Pride, a remarkable family-centered counseling agency supporting some of the most vulnerable people in our communities.
Grace Community Music plays an invaluable role in deepening our roots in the community. Many people have first entered Grace Church to hear a Harmonium concert or a Lenten organ recital or to be entertained by the Halloween Concert. Plus, we have long-term relationships with a host of local musicians and groups. Again, we don’t offer these musical programs to grow our church, but inevitably these events and relationships help us become, in the words of Philip Jenkins, “part of the ordinary lived reality” of people in our community. As one woman who regularly attends our musical events said to me at Bottle Hill Day, “I’m Jewish, but if I were Christian I’d go to Grace Church!”
Finally, many individual parishioners work to deepen our roots in the community. Each week I page through the Madison Eagle looking for stories and photos featuring Grace Church parishioners. Without exception, every week there is always at least one article and picture to cut out and proudly put up on the bulletin board. At our First Friday in May, we are planning to feature parishioners who volunteer outside of church. This has created a wonderful problem; in response to my inquiry in Grace Notes so many people have identified themselves as volunteers that we may have a panel of 40 or more people!
As we begin another year we can – and should – be thankful for Grace Church, our thriving Christian community. We can also give thanks for our deep roots in our communities and continue to look for ways we can be “part of the ordinary lived reality” for our neighbors.
Sunday, January 24, 2010
Homecomings
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
January 24, 2010
Year C: The Third Sunday after Epiphany
Nehemiah 8:1-3, 5-6, 8-10
Psalm 19
(1 Corinthians 12:12-31a)
Luke 4:14-21
Homecomings
As I’ve gotten older I’ve come to recognize the power of homecomings. Of course, part of the power of homecomings comes from nostalgia. But, it’s more than that. I have found there is something deeply emotional and even unsettling about visiting places from my past – the houses, streets, neighborhoods, churches and schools that helped to make me who I am today.
It’s emotional to see these places from our past, to stand on the same sidewalk where we played as children, to touch the doorknob we turned thousands of times, to feel again the wood of the banister. Homecomings are emotional. It’s emotional to revisit places that once seemed so ordinary, places that we took for granted, but now are loaded with memories and meaning.
Homecomings are emotional and they can also be unsettling. Many of us have experienced the cliché of returning to a place and everything looking so much smaller than we remember. Homecomings can be unsettling because we see the changes, often dramatic changes, which have occurred since the last time we were back. There’s a driveway where the garden used to be? They tore down the house next door and replaced it with a McMansion! They put aluminum siding on our house! Wow – the old neighborhood sure has changed! Homecomings can be unsettling.
But homecomings can also be moments of grace and clarity. Obviously, homecomings remind us of our roots and our history. Homecomings can also remind us of how we became the people we are today. Homecomings can also help to remind us of what’s most important in our lives – and to get us back on track if we’ve lost our way.
Since today’s lessons are very much about homecomings, I got to thinking about some of my own homecomings and how they were emotional and unsettling, but were also times of great grace and clarity.
A few years ago, just as seminary was wrapping up, I really felt like I had lost my way. I had left my comfortable teaching life behind and stepped into the unknown – and three years later it felt like I was still stepping into the unknown. Meanwhile my best friend and high school classmate and former teaching colleague had just gotten the job of principal at our school. I remember thinking, here we are both stepping into middle age and he can point to real achievement while I might have made some very big wrong turns and ruined everything.
With all of this anxiety swirling around in my head, I took a beautiful spring day to just wander and think, walking up and down the familiar streets of downtown Jersey City. Finally, I came to what had been my grandparents’ house – where I had spent a lot of time as a child. Standing on the sidewalk looking at that familiar red brick row house, touching the cold metal railings on the stoop, the memories seemed to wash over me.
Yes, that homecoming was emotional and unsettling – my grandparents are long gone from that house. But that homecoming was also a moment of grace and clarity – a moment when I remembered the unconditional love given to me by my family – a moment when I remembered that ultimately life is about sharing that kind of love - and all the rest just isn’t that important.
My second homecoming was more recent. I’m very fortunate to love my job, but like any other job the daily routines can make me stale, make it easy to lose sight of the big picture, to forget why I wanted to do this in the first place. Maybe some of you have had a similar experience.
Anyway, a few months ago I was back at our home parish, St. Paul’s in Jersey City. This was a sad homecoming since we were there for Sue’s mom’s funeral. I arrived very early to make sure I had plenty of time to get everything ready for the service.
As soon as I walked into the church, the sight of all that dark wood and the red carpet – and the slightly musty smell the church always had – brought me right back to why I fell in love with that church and felt called to the priesthood.
I especially found myself thinking back to my two role models – two very different priests who each in their own way continue to inspire me. I remembered the retired rector of the church, Frank Carr, warning me to stay focused on the Gospel and not to worry so much about my career. I remembered the joy and passion that the church’s rector, Dave Hamilton, brought to his priesthood, even when times were not so good.
My homecoming at St. Paul’s was emotional and unsettling. Of course, we were there for a sad reason. But it was also sad and emotional because Frank and Dave, and Sue and I for that matter, are no longer there. But that homecoming was also a time of grace and clarity – a reminder of the excitement and sense of call I felt, a reminder of the kind of priest I want to be.
Homecomings are powerful experiences. Today’s lessons are about two very powerful, very emotional homecomings. Both of these homecomings are also times of great grace and clarity.
The setting of the lesson from the Book of Nehemiah is Jerusalem after the Babylonian Exile. Many Jews had spent much of the Sixth Century exiled to Babylon, where it had been a great challenge to maintain their distinctive identity living as a minority in a foreign land.
Some, of course, completely lost their way, and were absorbed into the larger Babylonian culture. Others made all sorts of compromises in order to survive, but tried their best to remain faithful to God.
After the Persians defeated Babylon, the Jews were allowed to return to their homeland. Some chose to stay while others made the trek back to their largely ruined home. It’s an understatement to say that this homecoming was emotional and unsettling. The biblical account tells us that Jerusalem, including the Temple, was in ruins. This homecoming was the beginning of the painful and difficult task of rebuilding Jerusalem, the Temple and, most of all, rebuilding their Jewish identity.
The homecoming of the Jewish people after the Babylonian exile was emotional and unsettling, but it was also a time of grace and clarity. It’s during this homecoming that Jewish people rediscover, or maybe really discover, themselves and their relationship with God.
The passage we heard from Nehemiah tells of the celebration in Jerusalem at the culmination of the homecoming and reconstruction. At the celebration Ezra the priest reads from the Torah – reads from the Law of Moses. No surprise, there was great emotion in the crowd that day – we’re told “For all the people wept when they heard the words of the Law.”
Homecomings are emotional and unsettling and are also times of grace and clarity. The Jewish people had returned home and rediscovered who they were and rediscovered their relationship with God.
In today’s gospel lesson, Jesus has a powerful homecoming of his own. Unlike Mark and Matthew, Luke places this incident in the Nazareth synagogue right at the start of Jesus’ ministry. By putting it first, Luke is letting us know that he thinks this is a very important moment in Jesus’ life and work. It’s almost as if he can’t wait to get Jesus back to his hometown.
At this homecoming in Nazareth we have the next in our series of epiphanies. So far this Epiphany season we’ve seen Jesus revealed as king and as God’s beloved Son. Last week at the wedding at Cana, Jesus is revealed as a sign of God’s overflowing abundance. And now in this emotional and unsettling homecoming, Jesus reveals both his identity and his mission.
Imagine the scene. The synagogue was probably just a large room in someone’s house, but at this homecoming maybe the room seemed smaller than Jesus remembered it. Maybe he noticed how people had aged or the absence of those who had died since he had last been there.
For their part, the people may have noticed many changes in Jesus since the last they had seen him. Luke tells us that Jesus had heard the voice from heaven at his baptism say “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” And then Jesus had been tested for 40 days in the wilderness. Jesus must have seemed very different, making this homecoming emotional and unsettling for everyone present.
But, this homecoming to Nazareth was also a time of grace and clarity. Jesus reads from the prophet Isaiah and reveals both his identity and his mission.
At his homecoming Jesus reveals that he is God’s anointed, chosen to bring good news, freedom and healing to the least and the poorest.
Homecomings are emotional and unsettling and are also times of grace and clarity. But, there’s something else about homecomings – they don’t last. In my case there will always be times when I feel like I’ve lost my way or that my work has grown stale – but I can always remember my times of homecoming.
We know that after their return from Babylon the Jewish people will face many more trials, yet the memory of that homecoming celebration in Jerusalem continues to echo down through Scripture and Jewish memory right to the present day.
We also know what lies ahead for Jesus. Be sure to come back next week for the dramatic conclusion of Jesus’ homecoming. (Hint: they want to throw Jesus off a cliff.) But even though it was a brief experience and didn’t end as well as Jesus must have hoped, Luke recognizes how important this homecoming was for Jesus – a moment of grace and clarity when Jesus reveals both his identity and his mission.
So today, let’s give thanks for the homecoming of Jesus and our own homecomings. Let’s give thanks for these emotional and unsettling experiences that are also times of clarity and grace. Let’s look back at them, remembering where we come from, remembering the people and places that have shaped our lives, and especially remembering the God who loves us, the God who is our true home.
Amen.
January 24, 2010
Year C: The Third Sunday after Epiphany
Nehemiah 8:1-3, 5-6, 8-10
Psalm 19
(1 Corinthians 12:12-31a)
Luke 4:14-21
Homecomings
As I’ve gotten older I’ve come to recognize the power of homecomings. Of course, part of the power of homecomings comes from nostalgia. But, it’s more than that. I have found there is something deeply emotional and even unsettling about visiting places from my past – the houses, streets, neighborhoods, churches and schools that helped to make me who I am today.
It’s emotional to see these places from our past, to stand on the same sidewalk where we played as children, to touch the doorknob we turned thousands of times, to feel again the wood of the banister. Homecomings are emotional. It’s emotional to revisit places that once seemed so ordinary, places that we took for granted, but now are loaded with memories and meaning.
Homecomings are emotional and they can also be unsettling. Many of us have experienced the cliché of returning to a place and everything looking so much smaller than we remember. Homecomings can be unsettling because we see the changes, often dramatic changes, which have occurred since the last time we were back. There’s a driveway where the garden used to be? They tore down the house next door and replaced it with a McMansion! They put aluminum siding on our house! Wow – the old neighborhood sure has changed! Homecomings can be unsettling.
But homecomings can also be moments of grace and clarity. Obviously, homecomings remind us of our roots and our history. Homecomings can also remind us of how we became the people we are today. Homecomings can also help to remind us of what’s most important in our lives – and to get us back on track if we’ve lost our way.
Since today’s lessons are very much about homecomings, I got to thinking about some of my own homecomings and how they were emotional and unsettling, but were also times of great grace and clarity.
A few years ago, just as seminary was wrapping up, I really felt like I had lost my way. I had left my comfortable teaching life behind and stepped into the unknown – and three years later it felt like I was still stepping into the unknown. Meanwhile my best friend and high school classmate and former teaching colleague had just gotten the job of principal at our school. I remember thinking, here we are both stepping into middle age and he can point to real achievement while I might have made some very big wrong turns and ruined everything.
With all of this anxiety swirling around in my head, I took a beautiful spring day to just wander and think, walking up and down the familiar streets of downtown Jersey City. Finally, I came to what had been my grandparents’ house – where I had spent a lot of time as a child. Standing on the sidewalk looking at that familiar red brick row house, touching the cold metal railings on the stoop, the memories seemed to wash over me.
Yes, that homecoming was emotional and unsettling – my grandparents are long gone from that house. But that homecoming was also a moment of grace and clarity – a moment when I remembered the unconditional love given to me by my family – a moment when I remembered that ultimately life is about sharing that kind of love - and all the rest just isn’t that important.
My second homecoming was more recent. I’m very fortunate to love my job, but like any other job the daily routines can make me stale, make it easy to lose sight of the big picture, to forget why I wanted to do this in the first place. Maybe some of you have had a similar experience.
Anyway, a few months ago I was back at our home parish, St. Paul’s in Jersey City. This was a sad homecoming since we were there for Sue’s mom’s funeral. I arrived very early to make sure I had plenty of time to get everything ready for the service.
As soon as I walked into the church, the sight of all that dark wood and the red carpet – and the slightly musty smell the church always had – brought me right back to why I fell in love with that church and felt called to the priesthood.
I especially found myself thinking back to my two role models – two very different priests who each in their own way continue to inspire me. I remembered the retired rector of the church, Frank Carr, warning me to stay focused on the Gospel and not to worry so much about my career. I remembered the joy and passion that the church’s rector, Dave Hamilton, brought to his priesthood, even when times were not so good.
My homecoming at St. Paul’s was emotional and unsettling. Of course, we were there for a sad reason. But it was also sad and emotional because Frank and Dave, and Sue and I for that matter, are no longer there. But that homecoming was also a time of grace and clarity – a reminder of the excitement and sense of call I felt, a reminder of the kind of priest I want to be.
Homecomings are powerful experiences. Today’s lessons are about two very powerful, very emotional homecomings. Both of these homecomings are also times of great grace and clarity.
The setting of the lesson from the Book of Nehemiah is Jerusalem after the Babylonian Exile. Many Jews had spent much of the Sixth Century exiled to Babylon, where it had been a great challenge to maintain their distinctive identity living as a minority in a foreign land.
Some, of course, completely lost their way, and were absorbed into the larger Babylonian culture. Others made all sorts of compromises in order to survive, but tried their best to remain faithful to God.
After the Persians defeated Babylon, the Jews were allowed to return to their homeland. Some chose to stay while others made the trek back to their largely ruined home. It’s an understatement to say that this homecoming was emotional and unsettling. The biblical account tells us that Jerusalem, including the Temple, was in ruins. This homecoming was the beginning of the painful and difficult task of rebuilding Jerusalem, the Temple and, most of all, rebuilding their Jewish identity.
The homecoming of the Jewish people after the Babylonian exile was emotional and unsettling, but it was also a time of grace and clarity. It’s during this homecoming that Jewish people rediscover, or maybe really discover, themselves and their relationship with God.
The passage we heard from Nehemiah tells of the celebration in Jerusalem at the culmination of the homecoming and reconstruction. At the celebration Ezra the priest reads from the Torah – reads from the Law of Moses. No surprise, there was great emotion in the crowd that day – we’re told “For all the people wept when they heard the words of the Law.”
Homecomings are emotional and unsettling and are also times of grace and clarity. The Jewish people had returned home and rediscovered who they were and rediscovered their relationship with God.
In today’s gospel lesson, Jesus has a powerful homecoming of his own. Unlike Mark and Matthew, Luke places this incident in the Nazareth synagogue right at the start of Jesus’ ministry. By putting it first, Luke is letting us know that he thinks this is a very important moment in Jesus’ life and work. It’s almost as if he can’t wait to get Jesus back to his hometown.
At this homecoming in Nazareth we have the next in our series of epiphanies. So far this Epiphany season we’ve seen Jesus revealed as king and as God’s beloved Son. Last week at the wedding at Cana, Jesus is revealed as a sign of God’s overflowing abundance. And now in this emotional and unsettling homecoming, Jesus reveals both his identity and his mission.
Imagine the scene. The synagogue was probably just a large room in someone’s house, but at this homecoming maybe the room seemed smaller than Jesus remembered it. Maybe he noticed how people had aged or the absence of those who had died since he had last been there.
For their part, the people may have noticed many changes in Jesus since the last they had seen him. Luke tells us that Jesus had heard the voice from heaven at his baptism say “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” And then Jesus had been tested for 40 days in the wilderness. Jesus must have seemed very different, making this homecoming emotional and unsettling for everyone present.
But, this homecoming to Nazareth was also a time of grace and clarity. Jesus reads from the prophet Isaiah and reveals both his identity and his mission.
At his homecoming Jesus reveals that he is God’s anointed, chosen to bring good news, freedom and healing to the least and the poorest.
Homecomings are emotional and unsettling and are also times of grace and clarity. But, there’s something else about homecomings – they don’t last. In my case there will always be times when I feel like I’ve lost my way or that my work has grown stale – but I can always remember my times of homecoming.
We know that after their return from Babylon the Jewish people will face many more trials, yet the memory of that homecoming celebration in Jerusalem continues to echo down through Scripture and Jewish memory right to the present day.
We also know what lies ahead for Jesus. Be sure to come back next week for the dramatic conclusion of Jesus’ homecoming. (Hint: they want to throw Jesus off a cliff.) But even though it was a brief experience and didn’t end as well as Jesus must have hoped, Luke recognizes how important this homecoming was for Jesus – a moment of grace and clarity when Jesus reveals both his identity and his mission.
So today, let’s give thanks for the homecoming of Jesus and our own homecomings. Let’s give thanks for these emotional and unsettling experiences that are also times of clarity and grace. Let’s look back at them, remembering where we come from, remembering the people and places that have shaped our lives, and especially remembering the God who loves us, the God who is our true home.
Amen.
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Personal, Not Private
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
January 10, 2010
Year C: The Baptism of Our Lord
Isaiah 43:1-7
Psalm 29
(Acts 8:14-17)
Luke 3:15-17, 21-22
Personal, Not Private
Show of hands - do people ever ask you why you joined or why you go to the Episcopal Church? When Sue and I started going to the Episcopal Church, I used to get asked that question a lot by family and friends.
I used to give many different reasons for the switch – some pretty typical, others maybe not. I liked the friendliness of the congregation, the preaching, the music, the smaller scale. I liked how I was encouraged to think for myself. All very typical, I guess. But one of the things I like best about the Episcopal Church, that might not be typical, is that we have our baptisms during regular Sunday church services.
Now, I know it wasn’t always this way and some of you “Cradle Episcopalians” can remember the days when private baptisms were very common. Maybe you miss those days. Now private baptisms are rare - and are really only supposed to be done in emergencies. Now our custom is to gather as a community, to witness the baptisms of our brothers and sisters, and to promise to support the newly baptized in the Christian life.
Public Baptism is important for lots of reasons. It reminds us of our own baptism – and the baptismal promises we made or were made for us.
Public Baptism reminds us that we live our Christian lives in community – making the journey beside people we might otherwise never encounter and, frankly, might never choose to be with.
Public Baptism reminds me of a line from Jim Wallis, the founder and editor of Sojourners magazine. Wallis says, “God is always personal, but never private.” And the same is true of our baptism – baptism is personal, but never private. And the same should be true of our Christian faith – our faith should be personal, but never private.
During the season of Epiphany we remember a series of manifestations of who Jesus really is and what he means for all of us. Last week we remembered the first of these epiphanies when the wise men arrive in Bethlehem and recognize the newborn king, not in a palace but in a simple house in a little town.
Today we remember the second in our series of epiphanies, the baptism of our Lord. But, this epiphany is an epiphany for Jesus himself. At his baptism it seems that Jesus discovers who he is. Luke tells us that after his baptism while Jesus was praying he hears the voice from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”
It’s obviously a very important moment in Jesus’ life.
This year we heard Luke’s version. Let’s take a look at what Luke tells us, piece by piece.
Luke writes, “Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized…” So, first off, Luke makes it pretty clear that Jesus’ baptism is a public event. Jesus is baptized with other people. Jesus’ baptism is not some secret, private event.
Second, Luke makes it clear that he’s interested in Jesus, and not so interested in John the Baptist. Just as in the other two gospels Luke begins the baptism story with John telling the crowd that, no, he’s not the messiah; someone greater is coming who will baptize with the Holy Spirit and fire. Mark, the earliest of the gospels, leaves it at that.
Scholars think that there was competition between the followers of John and the followers of Jesus. So, Luke wants to make sure we really get that John can’t hold a candle to his cousin Jesus. The point of Luke’s gospel is that Jesus is the Lord, the Son of God.
Luke’s other point is that in baptism it’s not about the person who is actually pouring the water. At our 11:15 service today Lauren is going to pour water over two children, Samuel and Chelsea. But Lauren, or I or John or any baptizer is just a vehicle used by God.
Baptism is an encounter between God and the person being baptized.
So, if we look carefully at the baptism scene itself, Luke bends over backwards to actually eliminate John from the scene. We can presume that it was John who baptized Jesus, but that’s not exactly what the text says.
Take a look: Luke writes, “Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized…”
So, this baptism is a public event that is all about Jesus.
But there’s more. Luke writes, “Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”
Jesus’ baptism is definitely a public event, but Luke tells us that Jesus’ baptism is also personal encounter between God the Father and Jesus the Son.
God is always personal, but never private. Baptism is always personal, but never private. Our faith should always be personal but never be private.
Just in case we forget the public nature of Jesus’ life and the public nature of our Christian life, the next verses in Luke’s gospel are, “Jesus was about thirty years old when he began his work…”
After Jesus’ public baptism, after Jesus’ personal encounter with God the Father, Jesus doesn’t just continue his life as if nothing happened. After his baptism, Jesus doesn’t just keep this experience private. Just the opposite! After his baptism, Jesus begins his work, begins his public ministry, begins his teaching, preaching, and healing.
And what was true for Jesus should also be true for us.
After our baptism, we shouldn’t continue our lives as if nothing happened, as if we’re the same. Just the opposite! After our baptism, just like Jesus, we are called to publicly begin our work, to share the Good News with a broken and hungry world.
We often forget – or would like to forget – that we are called to live out our Christian faith in public. Many of us were taught and maybe believe that religion is a private matter. We may be embarrassed to reveal our faith to the world. In our hearts we may think that all this stuff is fine in church but doesn’t really apply to the “real world” of work or school or the Shop Rite parking lot.
We also may confuse being a public Christian with boasting about how religious we are. For good reason, we don’t want to be part of that crowd.
But, let’s be honest, even if we’re ready to try, it’s not easy to be a public Christian. In the Baptismal Covenant there are some powerful reminders of how we are to live out our faith in public.
We are asked, “Will you continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers?” So, here’s some good news – congratulations to us - just by being here in church today we are living out our faith in public!
Our faith should always be personal but never be private.
But, hold on; let’s not get too self-congratulatory. The next questions about being a public Christian get harder. We are asked, “Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ?”
“Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?”
“Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?”
Even those of us who have heard these questions many times can still find them at best challenging and at worst impossible. I mean, can we really “seek and serve Christ in all persons”? Can we really “strive for justice and peace among all people”?
It’s not easy being a public Christian. But, although the questions asked in the Baptismal Covenant are important, maybe the answer we give is even more important. After each of these tough questions we answer, “I will, with God’s help.”
If we try to live our public Christian lives without God’s help then we are doomed to dismal failure. But, the story changes when we recognize that we can do nothing on our own. With God’s help and the support of the Christian community, then all things are possible, then loving our neighbors as ourselves becomes a real possibility.
And since God makes an unbreakable bond with us in baptism, then God’s help is always available to us as we try to live as public Christians.
Today we remember and celebrate the second in our series of epiphanies. In his public baptism, Jesus the Son had a personal experience with God the Father.
After his baptism, Jesus doesn’t just continue his life as if nothing happened. After his baptism, Jesus begins his work, begins his public ministry, begins his teaching, preaching, and healing.
Today we recall our own baptism and the promises we made or were made for us and we celebrate the baptism of Samuel and Chelsea.
And we remember that God is always personal but never private. We remember that Baptism is always personal but never private. And we remember that our Christian faith is always personal but should never be private.
Amen.
January 10, 2010
Year C: The Baptism of Our Lord
Isaiah 43:1-7
Psalm 29
(Acts 8:14-17)
Luke 3:15-17, 21-22
Personal, Not Private
Show of hands - do people ever ask you why you joined or why you go to the Episcopal Church? When Sue and I started going to the Episcopal Church, I used to get asked that question a lot by family and friends.
I used to give many different reasons for the switch – some pretty typical, others maybe not. I liked the friendliness of the congregation, the preaching, the music, the smaller scale. I liked how I was encouraged to think for myself. All very typical, I guess. But one of the things I like best about the Episcopal Church, that might not be typical, is that we have our baptisms during regular Sunday church services.
Now, I know it wasn’t always this way and some of you “Cradle Episcopalians” can remember the days when private baptisms were very common. Maybe you miss those days. Now private baptisms are rare - and are really only supposed to be done in emergencies. Now our custom is to gather as a community, to witness the baptisms of our brothers and sisters, and to promise to support the newly baptized in the Christian life.
Public Baptism is important for lots of reasons. It reminds us of our own baptism – and the baptismal promises we made or were made for us.
Public Baptism reminds us that we live our Christian lives in community – making the journey beside people we might otherwise never encounter and, frankly, might never choose to be with.
Public Baptism reminds me of a line from Jim Wallis, the founder and editor of Sojourners magazine. Wallis says, “God is always personal, but never private.” And the same is true of our baptism – baptism is personal, but never private. And the same should be true of our Christian faith – our faith should be personal, but never private.
During the season of Epiphany we remember a series of manifestations of who Jesus really is and what he means for all of us. Last week we remembered the first of these epiphanies when the wise men arrive in Bethlehem and recognize the newborn king, not in a palace but in a simple house in a little town.
Today we remember the second in our series of epiphanies, the baptism of our Lord. But, this epiphany is an epiphany for Jesus himself. At his baptism it seems that Jesus discovers who he is. Luke tells us that after his baptism while Jesus was praying he hears the voice from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”
It’s obviously a very important moment in Jesus’ life.
This year we heard Luke’s version. Let’s take a look at what Luke tells us, piece by piece.
Luke writes, “Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized…” So, first off, Luke makes it pretty clear that Jesus’ baptism is a public event. Jesus is baptized with other people. Jesus’ baptism is not some secret, private event.
Second, Luke makes it clear that he’s interested in Jesus, and not so interested in John the Baptist. Just as in the other two gospels Luke begins the baptism story with John telling the crowd that, no, he’s not the messiah; someone greater is coming who will baptize with the Holy Spirit and fire. Mark, the earliest of the gospels, leaves it at that.
Scholars think that there was competition between the followers of John and the followers of Jesus. So, Luke wants to make sure we really get that John can’t hold a candle to his cousin Jesus. The point of Luke’s gospel is that Jesus is the Lord, the Son of God.
Luke’s other point is that in baptism it’s not about the person who is actually pouring the water. At our 11:15 service today Lauren is going to pour water over two children, Samuel and Chelsea. But Lauren, or I or John or any baptizer is just a vehicle used by God.
Baptism is an encounter between God and the person being baptized.
So, if we look carefully at the baptism scene itself, Luke bends over backwards to actually eliminate John from the scene. We can presume that it was John who baptized Jesus, but that’s not exactly what the text says.
Take a look: Luke writes, “Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized…”
So, this baptism is a public event that is all about Jesus.
But there’s more. Luke writes, “Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”
Jesus’ baptism is definitely a public event, but Luke tells us that Jesus’ baptism is also personal encounter between God the Father and Jesus the Son.
God is always personal, but never private. Baptism is always personal, but never private. Our faith should always be personal but never be private.
Just in case we forget the public nature of Jesus’ life and the public nature of our Christian life, the next verses in Luke’s gospel are, “Jesus was about thirty years old when he began his work…”
After Jesus’ public baptism, after Jesus’ personal encounter with God the Father, Jesus doesn’t just continue his life as if nothing happened. After his baptism, Jesus doesn’t just keep this experience private. Just the opposite! After his baptism, Jesus begins his work, begins his public ministry, begins his teaching, preaching, and healing.
And what was true for Jesus should also be true for us.
After our baptism, we shouldn’t continue our lives as if nothing happened, as if we’re the same. Just the opposite! After our baptism, just like Jesus, we are called to publicly begin our work, to share the Good News with a broken and hungry world.
We often forget – or would like to forget – that we are called to live out our Christian faith in public. Many of us were taught and maybe believe that religion is a private matter. We may be embarrassed to reveal our faith to the world. In our hearts we may think that all this stuff is fine in church but doesn’t really apply to the “real world” of work or school or the Shop Rite parking lot.
We also may confuse being a public Christian with boasting about how religious we are. For good reason, we don’t want to be part of that crowd.
But, let’s be honest, even if we’re ready to try, it’s not easy to be a public Christian. In the Baptismal Covenant there are some powerful reminders of how we are to live out our faith in public.
We are asked, “Will you continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers?” So, here’s some good news – congratulations to us - just by being here in church today we are living out our faith in public!
Our faith should always be personal but never be private.
But, hold on; let’s not get too self-congratulatory. The next questions about being a public Christian get harder. We are asked, “Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ?”
“Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?”
“Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?”
Even those of us who have heard these questions many times can still find them at best challenging and at worst impossible. I mean, can we really “seek and serve Christ in all persons”? Can we really “strive for justice and peace among all people”?
It’s not easy being a public Christian. But, although the questions asked in the Baptismal Covenant are important, maybe the answer we give is even more important. After each of these tough questions we answer, “I will, with God’s help.”
If we try to live our public Christian lives without God’s help then we are doomed to dismal failure. But, the story changes when we recognize that we can do nothing on our own. With God’s help and the support of the Christian community, then all things are possible, then loving our neighbors as ourselves becomes a real possibility.
And since God makes an unbreakable bond with us in baptism, then God’s help is always available to us as we try to live as public Christians.
Today we remember and celebrate the second in our series of epiphanies. In his public baptism, Jesus the Son had a personal experience with God the Father.
After his baptism, Jesus doesn’t just continue his life as if nothing happened. After his baptism, Jesus begins his work, begins his public ministry, begins his teaching, preaching, and healing.
Today we recall our own baptism and the promises we made or were made for us and we celebrate the baptism of Samuel and Chelsea.
And we remember that God is always personal but never private. We remember that Baptism is always personal but never private. And we remember that our Christian faith is always personal but should never be private.
Amen.
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Funeral Sermon for Ann Fiske Atchison
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
December 27, 2009
Funeral Sermon for Ann Fiske Atchison
Wisdom 3:1-5,9
Psalm 23
Revelation 7:9-17
John 14:1-6a
It’s Not About Us
Today’s gospel reading comes from the story of the Last Supper in the Gospel of John. It’s one of the most familiar parts of the whole Bible isn’t it? We retell the Last Supper story every time we have communion and we retell it in all of its detail and power in the days leading up to Easter.
But, although it’s a familiar and old story, it’s lost none of its intensity. We can still feel how intense it must have been in that room when Jesus gathered with his closest followers and friends.
Part of the intensity of the experience is that Jesus was running out of time. He knows that the time has just about come for him to be arrested, handed over to the authorities and to die on the Cross.
Since Jesus knew he was running out of time, at the Last Supper he tried to get across to his disciples the most important things. He knew all too well that in the past they’ve been a little thick-headed and haven’t always understood, so now is the time for clarity. Now is the time for intensity.
Jesus sums up his message with crystal clarity and burning intensity. At the Last Supper Jesus said to them, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”
Jesus knows that words alone may not get his message across. Many times Jesus has told his friends that they should not worry about status and prestige and wealth, but that instead they should live lives of loving service. Now, though, was the time for clarity and intensity. Jesus got on his hands and knees and washed the feet of his friends. Through this lowly and menial act, Jesus says to his friends and followers, says to us here today – this is how you are to live. You are to offer loving service to one another.
In other words, Jesus tells all of us, it’s not about you. Jesus tells us it’s about the love we share and the service we give to one another.
Over the past six or seven weeks the Atchison family has been through its own intense experience. It’s been a privilege to be with them – to be with you – from the day after Ann’s fall and broken hip, through surgery, hopes for recovery, and the growing realization that Ann’s life was drawing to a close.
It was an intense experience but like the Last Supper so long ago, it was an experience that produced crystal clarity.
I’m pretty sure her family already knew this, but through this intense experience it became crystal clear to me that Ann Fiske Atchison really understood Jesus’ message. Ann lived her life in a way that showed she understood that it wasn’t about her. For Ann, it was always about the love and service for her family, her friends and her church.
Whenever she could, Ann attended our Wednesday morning Healing Eucharist. Once she was no longer able to drive, I would often pick her up and give her a ride to church. Each week on the short ride we would chat away. It’s only during these past few intense weeks that I realized she almost never talked about herself. Instead, much of the time she would fill me in on her family and especially she would talk about how grateful she was that all of her children helped her out so much.
During these intense weeks I saw for myself the loving bond of this family. Several times I told Whitney, Patty, Rob and Doug that this family was a textbook example of how this is supposed to happen. The way they supported one another and especially the way they showered love on their mom was an inspiration. If Ann ever doubted it, in these last few weeks she was convinced beyond a doubt that she was deeply loved.
Whenever I’d compliment the Atchison kids on how good they were being for one another and for Ann, they’d always point back to their mom and say they learned how to live, to love, this way from her. And, they said, they were just giving back the love she had given them for so many years.
Jesus tells all of us, it’s not about you. Jesus tells us it’s about the love we share and the service we give to one another.
Ann loved her family and she also loved her friends. Sure enough another frequent topic of conversation on our rides from Lorraine Road to Grace Church was her dear friend, Anita Cole. They had been very close friends nearly their entire lives. Anita had gotten sick a few years back and Ann missed her and was so concerned about her – it was a worry that she brought up often.
As I mentioned, our Wednesday service is a healing service. Each week at that service, Ann would stay kneeling at the altar rail, waiting to be anointed with Holy Oil. Despite her own dimming eyes and weakening limbs, Ann never one asked for healing for herself. Instead, without fail, she would say softly, “For Anita.”
Jesus tells all of us, it’s not about you. Jesus tells us it’s about the love we share and the service we give to one another.
Ann loved her family and her friends and she also loved her church. Grace Church, where she was a parishioner for her whole life, was the third major topic of conversation on our Wednesday morning drives through the streets of Madison.
It’s true to her character that she served the church in two very much behind the scenes, almost invisible ways. She served on the altar guild – the unsung heroes of Grace Church who wash and polish and iron and who do so much to make this sacred place so beautiful. Ann’s other major area of service was sort of at the other end of the church spectrum. For many years she was one of the money counters – the group that gathers in near anonymity to do the crucial work of counting the collections after the Sunday service.
She showed her love for this church in other tangible ways. I never knew this, but Ann paid for the restoration of one of our stained glass windows, which she dedicated in memory of her parents. If you haven’t seen it, check it out after the service. It’s the rather haunting window of Jesus reaching out his arms in invitation that’s in the back on this side of the church. When her brother Denny died, she donated a chalice and paten in his memory – sacred vessels which we use all the time and which will be used when we celebrate the Holy Eucharist together in a few minutes.
Ann’s love for this church became very apparent just a few months ago. On a Friday night we had a potluck supper and invited people who had grown up at Grace Church to share some of their memories. It was a fun and poignant experience.
Ann’s contemporaries, Gene Carpenter and Don Van Court put on an unforgettable slide show with amazing photos of Grace Church from the days of their childhood. Ann was there and seemed to have a wonderful time reminiscing. She brought an artifact which she proudly showed to me and others – it was the certificate recording her confirmation long ago right here at Grace Church.
Through her life as a parishioner, Ann confirmed her love for this church through her service and her generosity – service and generosity that will live on.
Jesus tells all of us, it’s not about you. Jesus tells us it’s about the love we share and the service we give to one another.
At the Last Supper, despite Jesus’ intensity and clarity, the disciples are still devastated at the thought of Jesus’ death. Jesus promised his friends that he would go ahead and prepare a place for them. Jesus told them, “And you know the way to the place where I am going.”
In despair and confusion, Thomas said to Jesus, “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” And Jesus said, “I am the way, and the truth and the life.”
Through her life, Ann Fiske Atchison knew that Jesus is the way, and the truth and the life. She knew that life wasn’t about her, but about the love and service she shared with others – with her family, her friends and her church.
Now Ann has gone to the place prepared for her by Jesus – the place of perfect love and service. For the rest of us, however, the journey continues.
On our journeys through life we can carry the memory and the example of Ann. Her memory and example teach us that we really can live lives of love and service. Ann’s life is a reminder that it’s not about us – it’s about the love and service we share with one another.
Amen.
December 27, 2009
Funeral Sermon for Ann Fiske Atchison
Wisdom 3:1-5,9
Psalm 23
Revelation 7:9-17
John 14:1-6a
It’s Not About Us
Today’s gospel reading comes from the story of the Last Supper in the Gospel of John. It’s one of the most familiar parts of the whole Bible isn’t it? We retell the Last Supper story every time we have communion and we retell it in all of its detail and power in the days leading up to Easter.
But, although it’s a familiar and old story, it’s lost none of its intensity. We can still feel how intense it must have been in that room when Jesus gathered with his closest followers and friends.
Part of the intensity of the experience is that Jesus was running out of time. He knows that the time has just about come for him to be arrested, handed over to the authorities and to die on the Cross.
Since Jesus knew he was running out of time, at the Last Supper he tried to get across to his disciples the most important things. He knew all too well that in the past they’ve been a little thick-headed and haven’t always understood, so now is the time for clarity. Now is the time for intensity.
Jesus sums up his message with crystal clarity and burning intensity. At the Last Supper Jesus said to them, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”
Jesus knows that words alone may not get his message across. Many times Jesus has told his friends that they should not worry about status and prestige and wealth, but that instead they should live lives of loving service. Now, though, was the time for clarity and intensity. Jesus got on his hands and knees and washed the feet of his friends. Through this lowly and menial act, Jesus says to his friends and followers, says to us here today – this is how you are to live. You are to offer loving service to one another.
In other words, Jesus tells all of us, it’s not about you. Jesus tells us it’s about the love we share and the service we give to one another.
Over the past six or seven weeks the Atchison family has been through its own intense experience. It’s been a privilege to be with them – to be with you – from the day after Ann’s fall and broken hip, through surgery, hopes for recovery, and the growing realization that Ann’s life was drawing to a close.
It was an intense experience but like the Last Supper so long ago, it was an experience that produced crystal clarity.
I’m pretty sure her family already knew this, but through this intense experience it became crystal clear to me that Ann Fiske Atchison really understood Jesus’ message. Ann lived her life in a way that showed she understood that it wasn’t about her. For Ann, it was always about the love and service for her family, her friends and her church.
Whenever she could, Ann attended our Wednesday morning Healing Eucharist. Once she was no longer able to drive, I would often pick her up and give her a ride to church. Each week on the short ride we would chat away. It’s only during these past few intense weeks that I realized she almost never talked about herself. Instead, much of the time she would fill me in on her family and especially she would talk about how grateful she was that all of her children helped her out so much.
During these intense weeks I saw for myself the loving bond of this family. Several times I told Whitney, Patty, Rob and Doug that this family was a textbook example of how this is supposed to happen. The way they supported one another and especially the way they showered love on their mom was an inspiration. If Ann ever doubted it, in these last few weeks she was convinced beyond a doubt that she was deeply loved.
Whenever I’d compliment the Atchison kids on how good they were being for one another and for Ann, they’d always point back to their mom and say they learned how to live, to love, this way from her. And, they said, they were just giving back the love she had given them for so many years.
Jesus tells all of us, it’s not about you. Jesus tells us it’s about the love we share and the service we give to one another.
Ann loved her family and she also loved her friends. Sure enough another frequent topic of conversation on our rides from Lorraine Road to Grace Church was her dear friend, Anita Cole. They had been very close friends nearly their entire lives. Anita had gotten sick a few years back and Ann missed her and was so concerned about her – it was a worry that she brought up often.
As I mentioned, our Wednesday service is a healing service. Each week at that service, Ann would stay kneeling at the altar rail, waiting to be anointed with Holy Oil. Despite her own dimming eyes and weakening limbs, Ann never one asked for healing for herself. Instead, without fail, she would say softly, “For Anita.”
Jesus tells all of us, it’s not about you. Jesus tells us it’s about the love we share and the service we give to one another.
Ann loved her family and her friends and she also loved her church. Grace Church, where she was a parishioner for her whole life, was the third major topic of conversation on our Wednesday morning drives through the streets of Madison.
It’s true to her character that she served the church in two very much behind the scenes, almost invisible ways. She served on the altar guild – the unsung heroes of Grace Church who wash and polish and iron and who do so much to make this sacred place so beautiful. Ann’s other major area of service was sort of at the other end of the church spectrum. For many years she was one of the money counters – the group that gathers in near anonymity to do the crucial work of counting the collections after the Sunday service.
She showed her love for this church in other tangible ways. I never knew this, but Ann paid for the restoration of one of our stained glass windows, which she dedicated in memory of her parents. If you haven’t seen it, check it out after the service. It’s the rather haunting window of Jesus reaching out his arms in invitation that’s in the back on this side of the church. When her brother Denny died, she donated a chalice and paten in his memory – sacred vessels which we use all the time and which will be used when we celebrate the Holy Eucharist together in a few minutes.
Ann’s love for this church became very apparent just a few months ago. On a Friday night we had a potluck supper and invited people who had grown up at Grace Church to share some of their memories. It was a fun and poignant experience.
Ann’s contemporaries, Gene Carpenter and Don Van Court put on an unforgettable slide show with amazing photos of Grace Church from the days of their childhood. Ann was there and seemed to have a wonderful time reminiscing. She brought an artifact which she proudly showed to me and others – it was the certificate recording her confirmation long ago right here at Grace Church.
Through her life as a parishioner, Ann confirmed her love for this church through her service and her generosity – service and generosity that will live on.
Jesus tells all of us, it’s not about you. Jesus tells us it’s about the love we share and the service we give to one another.
At the Last Supper, despite Jesus’ intensity and clarity, the disciples are still devastated at the thought of Jesus’ death. Jesus promised his friends that he would go ahead and prepare a place for them. Jesus told them, “And you know the way to the place where I am going.”
In despair and confusion, Thomas said to Jesus, “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” And Jesus said, “I am the way, and the truth and the life.”
Through her life, Ann Fiske Atchison knew that Jesus is the way, and the truth and the life. She knew that life wasn’t about her, but about the love and service she shared with others – with her family, her friends and her church.
Now Ann has gone to the place prepared for her by Jesus – the place of perfect love and service. For the rest of us, however, the journey continues.
On our journeys through life we can carry the memory and the example of Ann. Her memory and example teach us that we really can live lives of love and service. Ann’s life is a reminder that it’s not about us – it’s about the love and service we share with one another.
Amen.
Reflection Time
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
December 27, 2009
The First Sunday after Christmas
Isaiah 61:10-62:3
Psalm 147
Galatians 3:23-25; 4:4-7
John 1:1-18
Reflection Time
We all know that Advent is supposed to be a time of quiet preparation and reflection, but in reality for many of us Advent is a whirlwind of shopping and planning, checking items off our list, making sure we’re ready for Christmas.
For many of us, the chances of actually reflecting about the meaning of Christmas on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day are pretty slim. Instead for many of us, Christmas Eve and Christmas Day are times to gather with family and friends, exchange gifts, eat – and maybe drink - too much. And, for others of us, it can be a sad time when we feel the sting of who or what we’ve lost, or perhaps never had.
Despite the best efforts of the Church, most of us don’t have the chance to really reflect on the meaning of Christmas during Advent or on Christmas Day itself. Most of us just don’t have reflection time.
And maybe that’s OK – at least for a while. Maybe it’s OK to get wrapped up in the experience – to enjoy the decorations and the carols and hymns, to celebrate with friends and family, and even to feel the absence of what’s missing.
Maybe that’s OK because, of course, we need to actually have the experience before we can begin to reflect upon it.
In Luke’s telling of Jesus’ birth, he tells us that Mary treasured and pondered in her heart the amazing experiences of the angel Gabriel’s appearance and the arrival of the shepherds to see her son, the newborn King. But, I’m willing to bet that having just given birth in less than ideal circumstances, right then and there Mary didn’t have a whole lot of time for reflection on what all this meant. Like all mothers of newborns, an exhausted Mary had too much to do. Reflection time would have to be later.
And the same is true for the first followers of Jesus. So many remarkable things happened so quickly. According to tradition, Jesus’ earthly ministry lasted an action-packed three years. In the middle of miracles and teaching and confusing parables and disturbing predictions, when was there time to reflect?
It was only after Jesus’ arrest, crucifixion and resurrection that Jesus’ followers began to reflect on what his birth, life, death and resurrection meant for them and for the whole world. It was only after Jesus was no longer physically present with them that the first Christians had reflection time.
And in today’s lessons we heard two examples of the early Church reflecting on Christmas, reflecting on what it means for us and the world that, in Jesus, God became incarnate; that, in Jesus, God has come and lived and died as one of us.
First up is St. Paul’s letter to the Galatians. The best guess is that this letter was written around the year 55 – already a couple of decades of reflection time had passed since the earthly life of Jesus.
One of the problems in reading Paul’s letters is that we only have one side of the correspondence – we don’t know exactly what issues provoked Paul to write what he has. In the case of the Letter to the Galatians, Paul was writing to urban Christian communities he had planted in Asia Minor, modern-day Turkey.
It seems that most of the people in these communities were gentiles, not Jews. But, since Paul had been away some other Jewish followers of Jesus arrived and tried, probably with some success, to convince these gentile Christians that they needed to observe Jewish Law.
The question of whether gentile Christians needed to obey Jewish Law was the hottest debate in the early Church.
Paul was not pleased to hear about what’s going on in the Galatian churches. Paul was provoked to write very clearly how he thought the birth of Jesus has changed everything. What Paul wrote is undoubtedly the product of many years of reflection time – time spent reflecting and praying on the meaning of Jesus’ birth. Paul has come to the conclusion that Jesus has changed forever our relationship with God.
Paul writes that the Law had served as our disciplinarian. That was a very precise term in Paul’s day. A disciplinarian was a household slave who supervised the discipline of children. It seems like it wasn’t a particularly warm, loving relationship but it kept the kids in line.
But now thanks to Jesus all of that changes. Paul writes that, “God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the law, in order to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as children.”
Paul claims that the disciplinarian is no longer needed, because, through Jesus, God has bridged the gap separating us from God. God has adopted us as children. So, now, along with Jesus we can cry to God, “Abba, Father!”
Imagine how much reflection time Paul needed before he could arrive at such a rich and beautiful understanding of Jesus and how his birth changed everything.
The Gospel of John was written near the end of the First Century – some sixty years after the earthly lifetime of Jesus. The whole of John’s gospel, and especially the famous prologue that we heard today, is obviously a product of much prayerful reflection time – reflection about Jesus, about God, about philosophy, and much more. After decades of prayerful reflection time, the Gospel of John offers a cosmic view of Jesus’ birth.
John begins his prologue by echoing Genesis, “In the beginning…” John boldly attempts to describe some of God’s inner life, writing that the Word was with God, that the Word was God and that all of creation came into existence through the Word.
Again, undoubtedly after much reflection time, John is inspired by God to take the next leap. The Word of God who was with God, who was God, through whom everything came into being, the Word of God “became flesh and lived among us.”
And just like Paul, John has come to understand that the birth of Jesus, the birth of God’s Son, the Word of God taking flesh, has changed forever our relationship with God.
John writes, “(But) to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God.” John offers a more cosmic view than Paul, but he gets to the same place. The birth of Jesus has changed everything. Through Jesus, God has bridged the gap separating us from God. God has adopted us as children.
Here’s one last example of someone who had put a good deal of prayerful reflection time into the meaning of Jesus’ birth. One of my favorite early Church Fathers is Irenaeus of Lyon, who was a bishop in the Second Century. So he lived and wrote a century and more after the earthy life of Jesus.
Irenaeus was especially influenced by St. Paul and built on Paul’s understanding of what Jesus’ birth means for us. Undoubtedly after much reflection time, Irenaeus developed his idea of recapitulation. In a nutshell, Irenaeus looked back to the Garden of Eden story and recognized that it was because of a human being that our relationship with God got broken.
Irenaeus suggests that in Jesus, God recapitulates creation. In Jesus, God unites with us and gives all of us a second chance. In Jesus, God fixes what got broken by sin, and adopts us as God’s children.
So, merry Christmas! For us here today it’s still Christmastide but for the rest of the world Christmas is over and it’s time to move on to the next thing.
But, for us Christians, Christmastide offers us an important opportunity. As some of the Christmas excitement begins to fade the Church gives us the opportunity for prayerful reflection time.
Today’s lessons offer us the inspired, prayerful reflections of Paul and John on the meaning of Jesus’ birth. Plus, we have 2000 years of Christians such as Irenaeus and many others reflecting on the meaning of Jesus’ birth.
And now, on this First Sunday after Christmas, you and I are invited to take some of our own prayerful reflection time, to really reflect on what it means for us that in Jesus, God has come and lived among us.
Amen.
December 27, 2009
The First Sunday after Christmas
Isaiah 61:10-62:3
Psalm 147
Galatians 3:23-25; 4:4-7
John 1:1-18
Reflection Time
We all know that Advent is supposed to be a time of quiet preparation and reflection, but in reality for many of us Advent is a whirlwind of shopping and planning, checking items off our list, making sure we’re ready for Christmas.
For many of us, the chances of actually reflecting about the meaning of Christmas on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day are pretty slim. Instead for many of us, Christmas Eve and Christmas Day are times to gather with family and friends, exchange gifts, eat – and maybe drink - too much. And, for others of us, it can be a sad time when we feel the sting of who or what we’ve lost, or perhaps never had.
Despite the best efforts of the Church, most of us don’t have the chance to really reflect on the meaning of Christmas during Advent or on Christmas Day itself. Most of us just don’t have reflection time.
And maybe that’s OK – at least for a while. Maybe it’s OK to get wrapped up in the experience – to enjoy the decorations and the carols and hymns, to celebrate with friends and family, and even to feel the absence of what’s missing.
Maybe that’s OK because, of course, we need to actually have the experience before we can begin to reflect upon it.
In Luke’s telling of Jesus’ birth, he tells us that Mary treasured and pondered in her heart the amazing experiences of the angel Gabriel’s appearance and the arrival of the shepherds to see her son, the newborn King. But, I’m willing to bet that having just given birth in less than ideal circumstances, right then and there Mary didn’t have a whole lot of time for reflection on what all this meant. Like all mothers of newborns, an exhausted Mary had too much to do. Reflection time would have to be later.
And the same is true for the first followers of Jesus. So many remarkable things happened so quickly. According to tradition, Jesus’ earthly ministry lasted an action-packed three years. In the middle of miracles and teaching and confusing parables and disturbing predictions, when was there time to reflect?
It was only after Jesus’ arrest, crucifixion and resurrection that Jesus’ followers began to reflect on what his birth, life, death and resurrection meant for them and for the whole world. It was only after Jesus was no longer physically present with them that the first Christians had reflection time.
And in today’s lessons we heard two examples of the early Church reflecting on Christmas, reflecting on what it means for us and the world that, in Jesus, God became incarnate; that, in Jesus, God has come and lived and died as one of us.
First up is St. Paul’s letter to the Galatians. The best guess is that this letter was written around the year 55 – already a couple of decades of reflection time had passed since the earthly life of Jesus.
One of the problems in reading Paul’s letters is that we only have one side of the correspondence – we don’t know exactly what issues provoked Paul to write what he has. In the case of the Letter to the Galatians, Paul was writing to urban Christian communities he had planted in Asia Minor, modern-day Turkey.
It seems that most of the people in these communities were gentiles, not Jews. But, since Paul had been away some other Jewish followers of Jesus arrived and tried, probably with some success, to convince these gentile Christians that they needed to observe Jewish Law.
The question of whether gentile Christians needed to obey Jewish Law was the hottest debate in the early Church.
Paul was not pleased to hear about what’s going on in the Galatian churches. Paul was provoked to write very clearly how he thought the birth of Jesus has changed everything. What Paul wrote is undoubtedly the product of many years of reflection time – time spent reflecting and praying on the meaning of Jesus’ birth. Paul has come to the conclusion that Jesus has changed forever our relationship with God.
Paul writes that the Law had served as our disciplinarian. That was a very precise term in Paul’s day. A disciplinarian was a household slave who supervised the discipline of children. It seems like it wasn’t a particularly warm, loving relationship but it kept the kids in line.
But now thanks to Jesus all of that changes. Paul writes that, “God sent his Son, born of a woman, born under the law, in order to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as children.”
Paul claims that the disciplinarian is no longer needed, because, through Jesus, God has bridged the gap separating us from God. God has adopted us as children. So, now, along with Jesus we can cry to God, “Abba, Father!”
Imagine how much reflection time Paul needed before he could arrive at such a rich and beautiful understanding of Jesus and how his birth changed everything.
The Gospel of John was written near the end of the First Century – some sixty years after the earthly lifetime of Jesus. The whole of John’s gospel, and especially the famous prologue that we heard today, is obviously a product of much prayerful reflection time – reflection about Jesus, about God, about philosophy, and much more. After decades of prayerful reflection time, the Gospel of John offers a cosmic view of Jesus’ birth.
John begins his prologue by echoing Genesis, “In the beginning…” John boldly attempts to describe some of God’s inner life, writing that the Word was with God, that the Word was God and that all of creation came into existence through the Word.
Again, undoubtedly after much reflection time, John is inspired by God to take the next leap. The Word of God who was with God, who was God, through whom everything came into being, the Word of God “became flesh and lived among us.”
And just like Paul, John has come to understand that the birth of Jesus, the birth of God’s Son, the Word of God taking flesh, has changed forever our relationship with God.
John writes, “(But) to all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God.” John offers a more cosmic view than Paul, but he gets to the same place. The birth of Jesus has changed everything. Through Jesus, God has bridged the gap separating us from God. God has adopted us as children.
Here’s one last example of someone who had put a good deal of prayerful reflection time into the meaning of Jesus’ birth. One of my favorite early Church Fathers is Irenaeus of Lyon, who was a bishop in the Second Century. So he lived and wrote a century and more after the earthy life of Jesus.
Irenaeus was especially influenced by St. Paul and built on Paul’s understanding of what Jesus’ birth means for us. Undoubtedly after much reflection time, Irenaeus developed his idea of recapitulation. In a nutshell, Irenaeus looked back to the Garden of Eden story and recognized that it was because of a human being that our relationship with God got broken.
Irenaeus suggests that in Jesus, God recapitulates creation. In Jesus, God unites with us and gives all of us a second chance. In Jesus, God fixes what got broken by sin, and adopts us as God’s children.
So, merry Christmas! For us here today it’s still Christmastide but for the rest of the world Christmas is over and it’s time to move on to the next thing.
But, for us Christians, Christmastide offers us an important opportunity. As some of the Christmas excitement begins to fade the Church gives us the opportunity for prayerful reflection time.
Today’s lessons offer us the inspired, prayerful reflections of Paul and John on the meaning of Jesus’ birth. Plus, we have 2000 years of Christians such as Irenaeus and many others reflecting on the meaning of Jesus’ birth.
And now, on this First Sunday after Christmas, you and I are invited to take some of our own prayerful reflection time, to really reflect on what it means for us that in Jesus, God has come and lived among us.
Amen.
Friday, December 25, 2009
Glory
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
December 25th, 2009
Christmas Day
Isaiah 62:6-12
Titus 3:4-7
Psalm 97
Luke 2:1-20
Glory
You may not believe this, but I’ve been told that the so-called Christmas season can be very… stressful. There are many sources for this holiday anxiety. For many of us there is the anxiety of trying to get everything done for last night and this morning – presents bought and wrapped, house cleaned, food prepared, table set, fingers crossed that there’s no family drama to spoil the holiday.
For others of us, the stress comes from a different place – the sadness we may feel about someone we love who is sick or has died. For us, there is the challenge of being in “good cheer” when all we really want to do is get back into bed, pull up the covers and wake up when Christmas is over.
Christmas can be stressful for kids, too. Teachers have been known to cram a lot of work and tests into the last days of school before Christmas vacation. And, I’m sure this isn’t true for the kids here today, but I used to worry that I’d be judged as naughty, not nice, and there’d be a bag of coal waiting for me under the tree on Christmas morning.
I wish I could tell you that the Church is free of stress and anxiety today and in the days leading up to Christmas. Unfortunately, the truth is just the opposite. It takes a lot of work and planning by many people to put on the spectacular celebrations last night and here this morning.
Everyone has different ways of dealing with stress and anxiety. One of the things I try to do to calm myself down is try to focus on what’s most important, what’s essential.
And, as far as Christmas is concerned, there are three essential pieces.
First, of course, we need to gather together. Second, we need to hear the old, familiar and yet still-so-powerful story of the birth of the Messiah. Finally, the last essential ingredient for a Christmas celebration in church is hymns.
Can you imagine a Christmas celebration without hymns? Can you imagine Christmas without these poetic texts set to music to praise God? I know some of us are uncomfortable singing, and yet, for even the most tone-deaf it’s hard to resist singing just a little bit of “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing!” or “Joy to the World”.
Hymns are essential to our celebration today and in fact they’ve been an essential part of the Christian life right from the beginning.
Hymns are certainly an important part of the Gospel of Luke. In fact, Luke uses several hymns to help tell the story of Jesus’ birth.
First Mary, while visiting with her relative Elizabeth, bursts into song, “My soul magnifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my savior…”
Second, Luke tells us that the priest Zechariah was filled with the Holy Spirit and sang a hymn prophesying about his son John the Baptist: “And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways…”
Today we heard and sang the third hymn. The heavenly host appears before the shepherds, singing, “Glory to God in the highest heaven!”
These hymns are rich and powerful and they have all inspired so much beautiful music. But, as I thought about today’s angelic hymn – a hymn that is so familiar and seemingly so simple, I started wondering what exactly are these angels singing? What does it mean to sing “Glory to God”? What is glory?
In the Bible, the word glory is used in two different ways. The first meaning is the honor and esteem we should give to God because, well, God is God. As our creator, and the source of life and love, God is worthy of our praise and so we give honor to God.
But there is second meaning of glory in the Bible. Although God is invisible, the people of Israel came to understand that sometimes they could see signs of God’s power and presence – what they called God’s glory. So they were able to see God’s glory, they were able to see God’s power and presence, in the tabernacle they carried those forty long years in the desert and they could see God’s glory, they could see God’s power and presence, in the Temple. In today’s gospel lesson Luke tells us that the angel of the Lord appeared to the shepherds “and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified.”
In Luke’s telling of the birth of Jesus, both meanings of glory meet one another.
The angels sing out and give honor, give glory to God, because in that feeding trough in Bethlehem, the shepherds, along with Mary and Joseph and even the animals, were about to see God’s power and presence.
In that helpless newborn child, born in the humblest of circumstances, they and we see God’s power and presence – we see God’s glory.
In that helpless newborn child, born to a young mother with so much to ponder in her heart and an adoptive father who had to take a very great leap of faith, we see God’s power and presence – we see God’s glory.
In that helpless newborn child, wrapped with bands of cloth and lying in a feeding trough used by animals, we see God’s power and presence – we see God’s glory.
And when we see God’s glory the only correct response is to give God glory – to give God honor and praise and thanks for living among us in Jesus. So Luke tells us, “The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen.”
But, there’s even more to God’s glory than the story of Jesus’ birth.
On Christmas, of course, our focus is on Jesus’ birth, but we can never lose sight of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. Just because it’s Christmas, we don’t take down the crosses in church. Just because it’s Christmas we don’t forget about Good Friday and Easter. Just as we do each Sunday, in a little while, we’ll gather at the table, remember the Last Supper and we will see Jesus, see the glory of God, in the bread and wine of the Eucharist.
Just like those long-ago shepherds, just like Mary and Joseph, we also see God’s glory in Jesus and the only correct response is to give God glory.
But, there’s even more to God’s glory.
In our baptism, we become the Body of Christ in the world. So, if we are open and paying attention, we can see God’s glory in one another and the only correct response is to give God glory.
Over the past few weeks, right here in this little part of the Body of Christ called Grace Church, I’ve been reminded that if I’m open and paying attention I can see God’s glory and the only correct response is to give God glory.
I saw God’s glory in a family gathered around their dying mother, united in love, holding her hand, kissing her forehead, and telling her over and over as she slipped away, “We love you, Mom.” “We’re going to be OK, Mom.” “You did a great job and now you deserve to rest.”
Glory to God in the highest!
I saw God’s glory in the elderly parishioner, recuperating from a broken hip, who in the midst of his painful rehabilitation came up with an idea for a new ministry. He offered to come with me as I visit people in nursing homes and rehab centers and be a living example of hope for people working at their own rehabilitation.
Glory to God in the highest!
I saw God’s glory in the person who drove through the middle of a violent snowstorm to bring an old and sick cat to the vet – making it possible for that beloved family pet to die knowing for sure that it was cared for.
Glory to God in the highest!
I saw God’s glory in the parishioner who has personally visited nearly all of the organizations supported by our outreach funds, in the person who drops off food into the Food for Friends barrel hoping no one sees, and the team from Grace Church who went to Jersey City to lead the funeral of someone they never even met.
Glory to God in the highest!
Just like those long-ago shepherds, just like Mary and Joseph, we also see God’s glory in Jesus and the only correct response is to give God glory. On Christmas and every day you and I are the Body of Christ in the world and despite our stress and anxiety if we are open and pay attention we can see Jesus – we can see God’s glory – in one another.
And so along with the angels the only correct response is to sing, Glory to God in the highest!
Amen.
December 25th, 2009
Christmas Day
Isaiah 62:6-12
Titus 3:4-7
Psalm 97
Luke 2:1-20
Glory
You may not believe this, but I’ve been told that the so-called Christmas season can be very… stressful. There are many sources for this holiday anxiety. For many of us there is the anxiety of trying to get everything done for last night and this morning – presents bought and wrapped, house cleaned, food prepared, table set, fingers crossed that there’s no family drama to spoil the holiday.
For others of us, the stress comes from a different place – the sadness we may feel about someone we love who is sick or has died. For us, there is the challenge of being in “good cheer” when all we really want to do is get back into bed, pull up the covers and wake up when Christmas is over.
Christmas can be stressful for kids, too. Teachers have been known to cram a lot of work and tests into the last days of school before Christmas vacation. And, I’m sure this isn’t true for the kids here today, but I used to worry that I’d be judged as naughty, not nice, and there’d be a bag of coal waiting for me under the tree on Christmas morning.
I wish I could tell you that the Church is free of stress and anxiety today and in the days leading up to Christmas. Unfortunately, the truth is just the opposite. It takes a lot of work and planning by many people to put on the spectacular celebrations last night and here this morning.
Everyone has different ways of dealing with stress and anxiety. One of the things I try to do to calm myself down is try to focus on what’s most important, what’s essential.
And, as far as Christmas is concerned, there are three essential pieces.
First, of course, we need to gather together. Second, we need to hear the old, familiar and yet still-so-powerful story of the birth of the Messiah. Finally, the last essential ingredient for a Christmas celebration in church is hymns.
Can you imagine a Christmas celebration without hymns? Can you imagine Christmas without these poetic texts set to music to praise God? I know some of us are uncomfortable singing, and yet, for even the most tone-deaf it’s hard to resist singing just a little bit of “Hark, the Herald Angels Sing!” or “Joy to the World”.
Hymns are essential to our celebration today and in fact they’ve been an essential part of the Christian life right from the beginning.
Hymns are certainly an important part of the Gospel of Luke. In fact, Luke uses several hymns to help tell the story of Jesus’ birth.
First Mary, while visiting with her relative Elizabeth, bursts into song, “My soul magnifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my savior…”
Second, Luke tells us that the priest Zechariah was filled with the Holy Spirit and sang a hymn prophesying about his son John the Baptist: “And you, child, will be called the prophet of the Most High; for you will go before the Lord to prepare his ways…”
Today we heard and sang the third hymn. The heavenly host appears before the shepherds, singing, “Glory to God in the highest heaven!”
These hymns are rich and powerful and they have all inspired so much beautiful music. But, as I thought about today’s angelic hymn – a hymn that is so familiar and seemingly so simple, I started wondering what exactly are these angels singing? What does it mean to sing “Glory to God”? What is glory?
In the Bible, the word glory is used in two different ways. The first meaning is the honor and esteem we should give to God because, well, God is God. As our creator, and the source of life and love, God is worthy of our praise and so we give honor to God.
But there is second meaning of glory in the Bible. Although God is invisible, the people of Israel came to understand that sometimes they could see signs of God’s power and presence – what they called God’s glory. So they were able to see God’s glory, they were able to see God’s power and presence, in the tabernacle they carried those forty long years in the desert and they could see God’s glory, they could see God’s power and presence, in the Temple. In today’s gospel lesson Luke tells us that the angel of the Lord appeared to the shepherds “and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified.”
In Luke’s telling of the birth of Jesus, both meanings of glory meet one another.
The angels sing out and give honor, give glory to God, because in that feeding trough in Bethlehem, the shepherds, along with Mary and Joseph and even the animals, were about to see God’s power and presence.
In that helpless newborn child, born in the humblest of circumstances, they and we see God’s power and presence – we see God’s glory.
In that helpless newborn child, born to a young mother with so much to ponder in her heart and an adoptive father who had to take a very great leap of faith, we see God’s power and presence – we see God’s glory.
In that helpless newborn child, wrapped with bands of cloth and lying in a feeding trough used by animals, we see God’s power and presence – we see God’s glory.
And when we see God’s glory the only correct response is to give God glory – to give God honor and praise and thanks for living among us in Jesus. So Luke tells us, “The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen.”
But, there’s even more to God’s glory than the story of Jesus’ birth.
On Christmas, of course, our focus is on Jesus’ birth, but we can never lose sight of the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. Just because it’s Christmas, we don’t take down the crosses in church. Just because it’s Christmas we don’t forget about Good Friday and Easter. Just as we do each Sunday, in a little while, we’ll gather at the table, remember the Last Supper and we will see Jesus, see the glory of God, in the bread and wine of the Eucharist.
Just like those long-ago shepherds, just like Mary and Joseph, we also see God’s glory in Jesus and the only correct response is to give God glory.
But, there’s even more to God’s glory.
In our baptism, we become the Body of Christ in the world. So, if we are open and paying attention, we can see God’s glory in one another and the only correct response is to give God glory.
Over the past few weeks, right here in this little part of the Body of Christ called Grace Church, I’ve been reminded that if I’m open and paying attention I can see God’s glory and the only correct response is to give God glory.
I saw God’s glory in a family gathered around their dying mother, united in love, holding her hand, kissing her forehead, and telling her over and over as she slipped away, “We love you, Mom.” “We’re going to be OK, Mom.” “You did a great job and now you deserve to rest.”
Glory to God in the highest!
I saw God’s glory in the elderly parishioner, recuperating from a broken hip, who in the midst of his painful rehabilitation came up with an idea for a new ministry. He offered to come with me as I visit people in nursing homes and rehab centers and be a living example of hope for people working at their own rehabilitation.
Glory to God in the highest!
I saw God’s glory in the person who drove through the middle of a violent snowstorm to bring an old and sick cat to the vet – making it possible for that beloved family pet to die knowing for sure that it was cared for.
Glory to God in the highest!
I saw God’s glory in the parishioner who has personally visited nearly all of the organizations supported by our outreach funds, in the person who drops off food into the Food for Friends barrel hoping no one sees, and the team from Grace Church who went to Jersey City to lead the funeral of someone they never even met.
Glory to God in the highest!
Just like those long-ago shepherds, just like Mary and Joseph, we also see God’s glory in Jesus and the only correct response is to give God glory. On Christmas and every day you and I are the Body of Christ in the world and despite our stress and anxiety if we are open and pay attention we can see Jesus – we can see God’s glory – in one another.
And so along with the angels the only correct response is to sing, Glory to God in the highest!
Amen.
Sunday, December 13, 2009
First Repentance, Then Rejoicing
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
December 13, 2009
Year C: The Third Sunday of Advent
Zephaniah 3:14-20
Canticle 9
(Philippians 4:4-7)
Luke 3:7-18
First Repentance, Then Rejoicing
How is it possible that we’ve already reached the third Sunday of Advent? The weeks are just flying by and it feels like we are hurtling towards Christmas. We had a little debate about it at the other day at the Men’s Breakfast, but I checked – Christmas is just a week from Friday. Wow. Advent is supposed to be this season of quiet waiting, reflection and anticipation, yet I’m sure I’m not alone in feeling the anxiety of time running out.
Anyway, here we are, ready or not, the Third Sunday of Advent. And, as you’ve probably noticed by now, this is the Sunday we set aside the blue Advent vestments and bring out the beautiful rose vestments.
Traditionally today is called Gaudete Sunday, from the Latin word meaning “rejoice.” As Lauren mentioned in last week’s sermon, in the past there was a pretty heavy penitential aspect to Advent - it was considered by many to be a little Lent. The third Sunday was set aside as a time to take a little break from all that penitence, to inject a little joy into Advent, recognizing that we were getting close to Christmas.
Although in modern times the Church has softened the penitential side of Advent, we’ve held onto Gaudete Sunday, this Advent Sunday to rejoice. So out come the rose vestments and maybe some of you use a pink candle in your Advent wreath at home.
Maybe you noticed, however, there is however a little problem with Gaudete Sunday.
In the readings from Zephaniah and in the First Song of Isaiah (and the Epistle to the Philippians) the theme is clearly rejoicing. So far so good. In the words of Isaiah, “Sing the praises of the Lord, for he has done great things, and this is known in all the world.”
But the gospel lesson seems to be off-message. Here we have what seems to be a very different theme: repentance. We heard the familiar story of John the Baptist preaching repentance to those he calls a “brood of vipers” – otherwise known as his congregation. John’s preaching is so tough that Luke’s last line is almost comical, “So, with many other exhortations, he proclaimed the good news to the people.”
Um, where exactly is the good news that John was proclaiming? Where is the rejoicing in this gospel for Gaudete Sunday?
Well, I puzzled over this question for quite a while. Finally I realized that if we rearrange the order of today’s lessons, we really can find the good news, we can really find the joy in Gaudete Sunday.
Here’s the good news: first repentance, then rejoicing.
First repentance.
In today’s gospel we once again find John preaching repentance and baptizing the crowds in the River Jordan. Hearing John’s harsh message we might wonder why in the world people came to this prophet in the river.
John himself seems skeptical that the crowd is there for the right reasons. He warns them they need to drop their sense of spiritual entitlement – being a descendant of Abraham doesn’t get you far with John. And John tells them being a descendant of Abraham won’t get you anywhere with God, either.
John tells them to drop their sense of spiritual entitlement because we are all going to be judged on if we bear good fruit. John tells them we will be judged on the way we live our lives.
John gives them a tough message and yet they still come to him. Maybe part of the reason people came to John despite his harsh message was because he offered very clear, concrete instructions on how to lead a life “worthy of repentance.” Have two coats? Give one away. Have food? Give some of it away. If you’re a tax collector, don’t take more than you’re supposed to. If you’re a soldier, don’t shake down anyone for money.
John is very clear and concrete. By the way, it’s no surprise that Luke includes these examples that challenge economic inequality and oppression. Remember this is the same gospel in which the Virgin Mary sings that God “has cast down the mighty from their thrones, and has lifted up the lowly. He has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich has sent away empty.”
Ultimately, though, maybe the people came to John despite his harsh message because in their hearts they knew they needed repentance. They knew that their lives were headed in the wrong direction. They were burdened by the knowledge that they were not living the kind of lives that God intended for them.
Luke tells us that the people were “filled with expectation.” What were they expecting? They were expecting, desperately hoping, that John would be the messiah. They were expecting, desperately hoping, that John would be the one who would free them, who would lead them from repentance to rejoicing.
First repentance, then rejoicing.
John is an important and interesting character, but, really, he is the last in a long line of prophets calling the people to repentance, to change their ways, to turn back to God.
In our Old Testament lesson we heard from another of those prophets. We don’t know much about the Prophet Zephaniah. He apparently lived in Jerusalem in the 6th Century BC. This seems to have been one of those times when the people of Israel had gone astray. They were worshipping idols, acting in unethical and immoral ways, and in general just not paying any attention to God. You know, the usual.
In response to this misbehavior, the Book of Zephaniah contains a series of prophesies about the Day of the Lord – the day when God was going to issue judgment on this unfaithful people.
Most of the Book of Zephaniah is gloom and doom. It would seem that the Day of the Lord is not exactly good news. Here’s how God describes the Day of the Lord, according to Zephaniah:
“I will bring distress upon people that they shall walk like the blind; because they have sinned against the Lord, their blood shall be poured out like dust, and their flesh like dung.” (1:17)
You can check it out at home if you’d like, but that’s a fair example of what most of the Book of Zephaniah is like – most, but not all. Today we heard the conclusion of Zephaniah where the prophet offers a very different vision – a vision of salvation and rejoicing.
Zephaniah says that some faithful people will repent – and that repentance will be the gateway to joy. Just before the passage we heard today, Zephaniah offers this vision of these faithful, penitent, transformed and joyful people:
“They shall do no wrong and utter no lies, nor shall a deceitful tongue be found in their mouths. They will pasture and lie down, and no one shall make them afraid.”
First repentance, then rejoicing.
So, what does all this have to do with us?
Can we relate to the people of Israel in Zephaniah’s time? Can we relate to those people who had gone astray, who were worshipping idols, who were acting in unethical or even immoral ways, who in general were just not paying any attention to God?
Can we relate to those people who came to see John the Baptist? Do we carry around a sense of entitlement? Do we know in our hearts that we need repentance? Do we know in our hearts that our lives are headed in the wrong direction? Do we know that we are not living the kind of life that God intends for us?
Are we expecting, desperately hoping, for the One who will free us, the One who will lead us from repentance to joy?
Well, if so, we have some very good news. This really is Gaudete Sunday – this really is a day to rejoice.
First repentance, then rejoicing.
Our lessons may have been a little out of order today, but the rest of the service is in perfect order. In just a little bit we will kneel and say the familiar words of the confession. Just before that we always have a few moments of quiet. Today, let’s really use that time. Let’s really take a moment think of how we need to repent. Today, let’s really pay attention to the familiar words.
And if we really repent, if we really say sorry and promise to try to live in a more faithful way, then we have created just enough room for God to lead us into rejoicing.
And the order of the service captures this perfectly, doesn’t it?
After we hear the words of forgiveness we move on to the rejoicing that is the peace and the rejoicing that we receive the presence of Jesus in the bread and wine of the Eucharist. Finally, we leave this place rejoicing in God’s love and God’s mercy and God’s gift of himself in Jesus.
On this Gaudete Sunday, we have one very clear theme: first repentance, then rejoicing.
Thanks be to God.
December 13, 2009
Year C: The Third Sunday of Advent
Zephaniah 3:14-20
Canticle 9
(Philippians 4:4-7)
Luke 3:7-18
First Repentance, Then Rejoicing
How is it possible that we’ve already reached the third Sunday of Advent? The weeks are just flying by and it feels like we are hurtling towards Christmas. We had a little debate about it at the other day at the Men’s Breakfast, but I checked – Christmas is just a week from Friday. Wow. Advent is supposed to be this season of quiet waiting, reflection and anticipation, yet I’m sure I’m not alone in feeling the anxiety of time running out.
Anyway, here we are, ready or not, the Third Sunday of Advent. And, as you’ve probably noticed by now, this is the Sunday we set aside the blue Advent vestments and bring out the beautiful rose vestments.
Traditionally today is called Gaudete Sunday, from the Latin word meaning “rejoice.” As Lauren mentioned in last week’s sermon, in the past there was a pretty heavy penitential aspect to Advent - it was considered by many to be a little Lent. The third Sunday was set aside as a time to take a little break from all that penitence, to inject a little joy into Advent, recognizing that we were getting close to Christmas.
Although in modern times the Church has softened the penitential side of Advent, we’ve held onto Gaudete Sunday, this Advent Sunday to rejoice. So out come the rose vestments and maybe some of you use a pink candle in your Advent wreath at home.
Maybe you noticed, however, there is however a little problem with Gaudete Sunday.
In the readings from Zephaniah and in the First Song of Isaiah (and the Epistle to the Philippians) the theme is clearly rejoicing. So far so good. In the words of Isaiah, “Sing the praises of the Lord, for he has done great things, and this is known in all the world.”
But the gospel lesson seems to be off-message. Here we have what seems to be a very different theme: repentance. We heard the familiar story of John the Baptist preaching repentance to those he calls a “brood of vipers” – otherwise known as his congregation. John’s preaching is so tough that Luke’s last line is almost comical, “So, with many other exhortations, he proclaimed the good news to the people.”
Um, where exactly is the good news that John was proclaiming? Where is the rejoicing in this gospel for Gaudete Sunday?
Well, I puzzled over this question for quite a while. Finally I realized that if we rearrange the order of today’s lessons, we really can find the good news, we can really find the joy in Gaudete Sunday.
Here’s the good news: first repentance, then rejoicing.
First repentance.
In today’s gospel we once again find John preaching repentance and baptizing the crowds in the River Jordan. Hearing John’s harsh message we might wonder why in the world people came to this prophet in the river.
John himself seems skeptical that the crowd is there for the right reasons. He warns them they need to drop their sense of spiritual entitlement – being a descendant of Abraham doesn’t get you far with John. And John tells them being a descendant of Abraham won’t get you anywhere with God, either.
John tells them to drop their sense of spiritual entitlement because we are all going to be judged on if we bear good fruit. John tells them we will be judged on the way we live our lives.
John gives them a tough message and yet they still come to him. Maybe part of the reason people came to John despite his harsh message was because he offered very clear, concrete instructions on how to lead a life “worthy of repentance.” Have two coats? Give one away. Have food? Give some of it away. If you’re a tax collector, don’t take more than you’re supposed to. If you’re a soldier, don’t shake down anyone for money.
John is very clear and concrete. By the way, it’s no surprise that Luke includes these examples that challenge economic inequality and oppression. Remember this is the same gospel in which the Virgin Mary sings that God “has cast down the mighty from their thrones, and has lifted up the lowly. He has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich has sent away empty.”
Ultimately, though, maybe the people came to John despite his harsh message because in their hearts they knew they needed repentance. They knew that their lives were headed in the wrong direction. They were burdened by the knowledge that they were not living the kind of lives that God intended for them.
Luke tells us that the people were “filled with expectation.” What were they expecting? They were expecting, desperately hoping, that John would be the messiah. They were expecting, desperately hoping, that John would be the one who would free them, who would lead them from repentance to rejoicing.
First repentance, then rejoicing.
John is an important and interesting character, but, really, he is the last in a long line of prophets calling the people to repentance, to change their ways, to turn back to God.
In our Old Testament lesson we heard from another of those prophets. We don’t know much about the Prophet Zephaniah. He apparently lived in Jerusalem in the 6th Century BC. This seems to have been one of those times when the people of Israel had gone astray. They were worshipping idols, acting in unethical and immoral ways, and in general just not paying any attention to God. You know, the usual.
In response to this misbehavior, the Book of Zephaniah contains a series of prophesies about the Day of the Lord – the day when God was going to issue judgment on this unfaithful people.
Most of the Book of Zephaniah is gloom and doom. It would seem that the Day of the Lord is not exactly good news. Here’s how God describes the Day of the Lord, according to Zephaniah:
“I will bring distress upon people that they shall walk like the blind; because they have sinned against the Lord, their blood shall be poured out like dust, and their flesh like dung.” (1:17)
You can check it out at home if you’d like, but that’s a fair example of what most of the Book of Zephaniah is like – most, but not all. Today we heard the conclusion of Zephaniah where the prophet offers a very different vision – a vision of salvation and rejoicing.
Zephaniah says that some faithful people will repent – and that repentance will be the gateway to joy. Just before the passage we heard today, Zephaniah offers this vision of these faithful, penitent, transformed and joyful people:
“They shall do no wrong and utter no lies, nor shall a deceitful tongue be found in their mouths. They will pasture and lie down, and no one shall make them afraid.”
First repentance, then rejoicing.
So, what does all this have to do with us?
Can we relate to the people of Israel in Zephaniah’s time? Can we relate to those people who had gone astray, who were worshipping idols, who were acting in unethical or even immoral ways, who in general were just not paying any attention to God?
Can we relate to those people who came to see John the Baptist? Do we carry around a sense of entitlement? Do we know in our hearts that we need repentance? Do we know in our hearts that our lives are headed in the wrong direction? Do we know that we are not living the kind of life that God intends for us?
Are we expecting, desperately hoping, for the One who will free us, the One who will lead us from repentance to joy?
Well, if so, we have some very good news. This really is Gaudete Sunday – this really is a day to rejoice.
First repentance, then rejoicing.
Our lessons may have been a little out of order today, but the rest of the service is in perfect order. In just a little bit we will kneel and say the familiar words of the confession. Just before that we always have a few moments of quiet. Today, let’s really use that time. Let’s really take a moment think of how we need to repent. Today, let’s really pay attention to the familiar words.
And if we really repent, if we really say sorry and promise to try to live in a more faithful way, then we have created just enough room for God to lead us into rejoicing.
And the order of the service captures this perfectly, doesn’t it?
After we hear the words of forgiveness we move on to the rejoicing that is the peace and the rejoicing that we receive the presence of Jesus in the bread and wine of the Eucharist. Finally, we leave this place rejoicing in God’s love and God’s mercy and God’s gift of himself in Jesus.
On this Gaudete Sunday, we have one very clear theme: first repentance, then rejoicing.
Thanks be to God.
Tuesday, December 01, 2009
Gratitude
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
The Messenger
December 2009
Gratitude
Some Saturday nights I go to sleep anxious about the next day’s sermon or eager to get as much rest as I can, knowing that I have a long Sunday ahead. But a few weeks ago I went to bed on a Saturday night without a worry in my head, looking forward to a relatively easy and enjoyable day of church. Lauren would be preaching so there would be no tossing and turning about the sermon. We had a couple of baptisms scheduled. Finally, in the afternoon I planned on heading down to House of Prayer in Newark (a wonderful church where I had served as a seminarian) for its 160th anniversary celebration. I fully expected it would be an easy, but memorable, day.
Before I dozed off, did I pray? Did I give thanks to God for the many wonderful gifts in my life? I can’t say for sure.
Around 4:00 Sue woke me up out of a deep sleep with shocking and terrifying words, “I think I have to go the hospital.” I tried to focus as I stumbled around the house, getting ready to leave, my heart racing, trying to make sense of what was happening, trying to stay calm.
In the car, driving as quickly as I could through the dark, deserted streets to Morristown Hospital, I tried to fall back on my clergy training and attempted to be a “non-anxious presence” for Sue. As I tried to radiate calm, inside I was thinking that this was one of those moments when your life takes a turn – the grim diagnosis, the phone call in the night, one wrong move, words spoken that can never be taken back or forgotten. As a priest, of course, I spend much time with people in the midst of those moments. Now, I thought, it was our turn. I believed we were in one of those moments when everything changes.
The emergency room was nearly empty. Apparently the injuries of Saturday night had already been bandaged and the new day’s wave of emergencies had not yet arrived. Once it was 6:00, I called Lauren and told her what was going on and that I wasn’t sure if or when I’d be in church. She told me not to worry about church and to update her on what was happening.
Although it took a few anxious hours, the doctors did figure out what was going on and Sue underwent a brief procedure that solved the problem. Exhausted and relieved, Sue and I stopped for breakfast and then returned home. I looked at the clock in the living room. All of this had happened before noon.
No surprise, we were both grateful that this frightening experience had ended much better than we had dared to hope. Like anyone who has a close-call, we had a renewed appreciation for the simple gifts of our everyday lives – the nice place to live, the purr of our cat, meaningful work, and the company of one another.
As the day went on my sense of gratitude for Grace Church deepened. Since this had happened on Sunday morning, everyone who was in church that day heard that I had taken Sue to the hospital early in the morning. Knowing that (obviously) Lauren couldn’t get to the hospital for a while, one parishioner took it upon himself to drive to the hospital after the 7:30 service to offer us some much-appreciated pastoral care. When I got home and went on the computer, waiting for me was a pile of concerned emails from parishioners. After I sent out a parish-wide email to let everyone know Sue was OK, another avalanche of emails arrived. Flowers were delivered and a dinner was prepared for us. How blessed we are to be a part of Grace Church!
Since that difficult, but memorable, day and with the approach of Thanksgiving, I’ve been trying to be more mindful of the many wonderful gifts in my life. The other day in the New York Times there was a review of a new book called The Gift of Thanks. The reviewer quoted a line from the book that really jumped out at me: “Gratitude is always a matter of paying attention, deliberately beholding and appreciating the other.”
As we approach the end of this year, and look to the start of the next, it is all too easy for us to be anxious about what is yet to come – what life-changing moments will we face, what will be broken, what will be lost. My plan, though, is to be more deliberate, to pay closer attention, to behold and appreciate all the “others” in my life – the people, the places and the experiences that make life so rich and rewarding. On Sundays, during the prayers when I hear the words, “We give thanks for all the blessings of this life,” I am really going to give thanks to God for all the blessings of my life and all the blessings of our life together.
The Messenger
December 2009
Gratitude
Some Saturday nights I go to sleep anxious about the next day’s sermon or eager to get as much rest as I can, knowing that I have a long Sunday ahead. But a few weeks ago I went to bed on a Saturday night without a worry in my head, looking forward to a relatively easy and enjoyable day of church. Lauren would be preaching so there would be no tossing and turning about the sermon. We had a couple of baptisms scheduled. Finally, in the afternoon I planned on heading down to House of Prayer in Newark (a wonderful church where I had served as a seminarian) for its 160th anniversary celebration. I fully expected it would be an easy, but memorable, day.
Before I dozed off, did I pray? Did I give thanks to God for the many wonderful gifts in my life? I can’t say for sure.
Around 4:00 Sue woke me up out of a deep sleep with shocking and terrifying words, “I think I have to go the hospital.” I tried to focus as I stumbled around the house, getting ready to leave, my heart racing, trying to make sense of what was happening, trying to stay calm.
In the car, driving as quickly as I could through the dark, deserted streets to Morristown Hospital, I tried to fall back on my clergy training and attempted to be a “non-anxious presence” for Sue. As I tried to radiate calm, inside I was thinking that this was one of those moments when your life takes a turn – the grim diagnosis, the phone call in the night, one wrong move, words spoken that can never be taken back or forgotten. As a priest, of course, I spend much time with people in the midst of those moments. Now, I thought, it was our turn. I believed we were in one of those moments when everything changes.
The emergency room was nearly empty. Apparently the injuries of Saturday night had already been bandaged and the new day’s wave of emergencies had not yet arrived. Once it was 6:00, I called Lauren and told her what was going on and that I wasn’t sure if or when I’d be in church. She told me not to worry about church and to update her on what was happening.
Although it took a few anxious hours, the doctors did figure out what was going on and Sue underwent a brief procedure that solved the problem. Exhausted and relieved, Sue and I stopped for breakfast and then returned home. I looked at the clock in the living room. All of this had happened before noon.
No surprise, we were both grateful that this frightening experience had ended much better than we had dared to hope. Like anyone who has a close-call, we had a renewed appreciation for the simple gifts of our everyday lives – the nice place to live, the purr of our cat, meaningful work, and the company of one another.
As the day went on my sense of gratitude for Grace Church deepened. Since this had happened on Sunday morning, everyone who was in church that day heard that I had taken Sue to the hospital early in the morning. Knowing that (obviously) Lauren couldn’t get to the hospital for a while, one parishioner took it upon himself to drive to the hospital after the 7:30 service to offer us some much-appreciated pastoral care. When I got home and went on the computer, waiting for me was a pile of concerned emails from parishioners. After I sent out a parish-wide email to let everyone know Sue was OK, another avalanche of emails arrived. Flowers were delivered and a dinner was prepared for us. How blessed we are to be a part of Grace Church!
Since that difficult, but memorable, day and with the approach of Thanksgiving, I’ve been trying to be more mindful of the many wonderful gifts in my life. The other day in the New York Times there was a review of a new book called The Gift of Thanks. The reviewer quoted a line from the book that really jumped out at me: “Gratitude is always a matter of paying attention, deliberately beholding and appreciating the other.”
As we approach the end of this year, and look to the start of the next, it is all too easy for us to be anxious about what is yet to come – what life-changing moments will we face, what will be broken, what will be lost. My plan, though, is to be more deliberate, to pay closer attention, to behold and appreciate all the “others” in my life – the people, the places and the experiences that make life so rich and rewarding. On Sundays, during the prayers when I hear the words, “We give thanks for all the blessings of this life,” I am really going to give thanks to God for all the blessings of my life and all the blessings of our life together.
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