George's Way

Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ

May 6, 2023

The Funeral of George Hayman

Isaiah 25:6-9

Revelation 7:9-17

John 14:1-6a

George’s Way

Alleluia! Christ is risen!

The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!

I want to start by thanking Mother Susan for graciously sharing her pulpit with me. Once again, your hospitality is much appreciated.

And I want to thank Lauren for inviting me to come back home, and share a few words with you today.

So, I began my homily with the Easter Acclamation, and I did that for two reasons.

First, I hoped it might settle my nervousness, at least a little.

And second, I love that George’s funeral is taking place during the Easter Season.

Every Christian funeral is an Easter celebration - there are always at least a few “Alleluias.” 

But it’s during the Eastertide that we most especially celebrate God’s love for us – God’s unbreakable bond of love with us – a bond that is stronger than anything – a bond that withstands even death itself.

Alleluia! Christ is risen!

The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!

Since we’re now well into the Easter Season, today’s gospel lesson may have sounded a little jarring – a little out of time - because it takes us all the way back to Holy Week, back to the Last Supper.

Jesus had been predicting his death for some time.

But, the disciples couldn’t or wouldn’t hear it.

We know how it is.

Even with plenty of advance warning, it’s hard to accept that someone we love is going to suffer and die.

But that night, when Jesus gathered with his friends for one last meal, the hard truth must have been sinking in.

With time running out, Jesus teaches the disciples - and us - a few last, most important lessons:

Jesus washes feet and says this is how it should be with us - wash each other’s feet - love one another.

Jesus blesses bread and wine and says this is my body and blood – and I will be with you each time you’re at the table and remember me.

Some most important and unforgettable lessons.

And, as we heard this morning, Jesus promises that we will be reunited – and Jesus even says that we know the way to the place of reunion.

It’s only Thomas who is brave enough, honest enough, to say, “Lord, we do not know the way to the place where you are going. How can we know the way?”

And, Jesus says, “I am the way, the truth, and the life.”

I doubt that cleared things up very much, but a few days later, after the first Easter, when the disciples knew that death had in fact been defeated, they began to understand and proclaim that Jesus is the way to new life.

For us, Jesus is the way – and the way of Jesus is giving our selves away in loving service to God and one another.

Jesus is the way – but the way of Jesus is not a one-size-fits-all way.

No, we are all called and challenged to discover our own unique way along the way.

And, I think that you will all agree that our much-loved George – he definitely found his own unique way along the way – he walked his own way along the way – and we were all so blessed by George’s Way.

I began to discover George’s Way the very first time I met him.

Some of my Grace Church friends may remember that back when I was finishing seminary and the possibility of serving here as curate first came up, I wasn’t sure if this was the right place for me.

I had lived pretty much my whole life in Jersey City, and Madison seemed, I don’t know, pretty fancy and, well, very green, and I was afraid that I wouldn’t fit in with the people here, that we wouldn’t have much in common.

But, you know, I needed a job.

So, I came out here for a day of interviews – meeting with Lauren and several wonderful parishioners and staff members – and by the afternoon I was thinking these people are pretty great and this is an exciting place… but I still had those nagging doubts.

Near the end of the day, Lauren and I were wrapping up in her office – and then George arrived. I can’t remember if he knocked on the door or just walked in – probably just walked in.

Lauren introduced him as her husband George but he stuck out his hand and with a mischievous smile and said, “Mr. Lauren Ackland – glad to meet you!”

I didn’t know what was going on – it had been a long day!

But George started talking about his days working with the mission churches in Jersey City and, well, our friendship was off and running – and I knew that this would be a good place for me.

As he did for so many others, with his warmth and straightforwardness and his kind of – let’s say off-beat - sense of humor, George immediately put me at ease. 

And while “Mr. Lauren Ackland” was a long-running self-deprecating joke, it pointed to a deep and beautiful truth.

As you know, George was a smart and talented and interesting guy – a loving and loyal son, brother, uncle, and friend - a gifted writer and designer of bulletins and booklets – a lover of history – an accomplished golfer – a dedicated public servant - a lifelong singer and appreciator of music – a devoted Yankees fan (with a soft spot for the Baltimore Orioles) – but, at least in my experience, George’s Way was very much about supporting Lauren – loving her by supporting her ministry, authentically and generously.

And it seems that was true right from the start – I loved that George used to begin telling stories about General Seminary by saying, “When we were at seminary…”

At St. Alban’s and here at Grace, George threw himself into church life – the choir, the altar guild, attending just about every church event – plays and concerts featuring Grace kids - so many diocesan meetings, and conventions, and special services and on and on.

George was an important role model for all the clergy spouses who passed through Grace Church during those years, including my wife Sue. Not that they could or should imitate him exactly. But through his life and his ministry, he showed that clergy spouses could be supportive while also being themselves – because George was never anyone but himself.

As I’ve been thinking about our days together here at Grace, one particular image has been coming to mind.

Back then, the first service on Sunday was at 7:30am.

I’m a morning person and that always felt a little early to me!

George was most definitely not a morning person and yet whenever Lauren was preaching, he would come over from the rectory and take a seat up there in the choir loft where most of the 7:30 congregation couldn’t see him – but the preacher would know that he was there.

George was there to be fed by Lauren’s words and wisdom – he was there to support her, even at that early hour, even after having heard hundreds and hundreds of her sermons, even when he was going to hear that same sermon several more times that day.

That was George’s Way.

I’m very glad that in his final months, George was able to hear how much we loved and appreciated him.

Lauren, of course, was tireless in her love and devotion – that’s her way.

And, lots of other people got in touch and some of us were able to visit.

I’m happy to report that George held onto his sense of humor until just about the end.

The last time we were together, I was sitting at his bedside trying to keep it together while George was kind of drifting in and out, and then, at one point, he opened his eyes, looked over at me and asked, “Are you having fun, yet?”

In his last days, George heard music – music only he could hear. 

I think he was hearing the music from the mountaintop party envisioned by the Prophet Isaiah – the place of reunion prepared by Jesus - that grand celebration with the best food and drink – a party more joyous than we can imagine.

Here’s the thing, though, for George it would not be heaven without us - it wouldn’t be the best party ever without Lauren and his family and friends.

So, about that.

I’ve been told that there are two types of time.

Maybe you’ve heard this, too.

There’s chronological time – you know, one thing after another.

But there’s also God’s time – and in God’s time, past, present, and future, lose their distinction.

For now, you and I are in chronological time.

But, George, he has stepped into God’s time – he is already in the place of reunion.

And although we can’t quite fully see it or feel it yet, we are there with him, too.

Today, we’re getting just a taste of that heavenly banquet, crying and feasting and singing and laughing – giving thanks to God for our many blessings, giving thanks most of all, for George Hayman and for George’s Way.

Amen.

Devotion of Body, Soul, and Spirit: A Tribute to the Rev. Lauren Ackland

“Devotion of Body, Soul, and Spirit: A Tribute to the Rev. Lauren Ackland”

June 11, 2016

            Well, it’s certainly a great honor to have been invited to speak at this spectacular occasion, to honor Lauren and George who have been mentors and friends for Sue and me – and who mean so much to us all.

            For the record, I will say, that I’ve been given very little direction on what to say this evening.

            In fact, my friend, Grace Church Senior Warden John Garde gave me just one request: “Keep it light.”

            “Keep it light,” he said.

            But, it’s not so easy to keep it light since this is, for sure, a bittersweet event, right?

            So, like many of you, when I need uplift and inspiration, I look to the...news.

            And, what do you know? While we’re here honoring Lauren, over in Britain they’re having a big party to celebrate the Queen’s 90^th birthday!

            And, I don’t need to tell you Anglophiles that this is her official birthday – her real birthday was back in April.

            But, I digress.

            I mention the Queen because, setting aside the very great age gap and the obvious lifestyle differences, Lauren has always reminded me a bit of the Queen.

            Don’t laugh. Stick with me. I don’t want to push this too hard, but I think I’m going to make the case.

            After all, they are both women who have served so well for so long that, honestly, it’s difficult for many of us to imagine someone else in their place.

            They have both been icons of stability during changing times.

            Back on her 21^st birthday, then-Princess Elizabeth made a famous speech declaring that her whole life, whether long or short, would be devoted to service.

            And, Lauren has made that same promise several times in her life – both times when she was ordained – and, of course, twenty years ago when she became Rector of Grace Church.

            At that celebration of new ministry, reading the words in the Prayer Book, Lauren made the following pledge to God: “To you and your service I devote myself, body, soul, and spirit.”

            And, whatever you might think about the Queen, there can be no disagreement that Lauren has worked oh so very hard to keep her big promise to God. Day in and day out, year after year, Lauren has devoted herself – given her body, soul, and spirit, in service to God and God’s people.

            Just look around – look around at how many of us have been touched by her life and ministry!

            Now, I’m sure it would be easy to get kind of full of yourself if you’re the Queen – people bowing and curtseying all the time, “Your Majesty,” the fancy outfits, and all the rest of it.

            And, I can imagine, that it might be easy to get full of yourself as a priest  - and especially as Rector of one of the most prominent churches in this diocese, a wonderful church with more people and more ministry and, yes, more money, than most.

            Yet, despite all the royal splendor, I’ve always sensed a basic humility and simplicity in the Queen – and you and I both know that Lauren has led Grace Church and lives her life with humility, modesty and simplicity.

            It’s never been about her.

            Didn’t have to be that way. It could’ve all gone to her head!

            After all, at Grace, she has gotten to wear some pretty fancy outfits – the beautiful vestments made from Larry Taber’s curtains come especially to mind – lots of people call her “Mother,” and, unlike the Queen, as Rector she has real power, she’s no figurehead, but she has led the church very much as what the bishop often calls her, a “team player,” working closely with wardens, vestry, and staff.

             And, in her everyday life she lives simply (she’d say she’s just cheap) – so no flashy cars or fancy clothes or frequent and exotic vacations for her – or George.

            Actually, most of you know that it’s been a minor miracle whenever they’ve even taken a real vacation!

            And a sabbatical? What’s a sabbatical?

            Something else both the Queen and Lauren share in common: husbands with, yes, let’s say quirky senses of humor, but husbands who have loyally supported them and their work, sacrificing at least some of their own interests and ambitions, and certainly sacrificing much of their time, over all these years.

            It’s been often noted, including, it must be said, by George Hayman himself, that in many ways George is a traditional clergy spouse, devoting much of his life to Grace Church – the choir, the altar guild, worship leader, men’s group, helping with publications – plus lots of other work for the diocese – all the while serving as trusted confidante and sounding board for Lauren – and, maybe most important of all, making her laugh a lot.

            It’s hard to imagine that Lauren could have had such a rich and successful ministry at Grace without George at her side.

            And, while I’m sure that lots of people at Grace already realize that they’re going to really miss Lauren, they may not yet fully appreciate just how much they’ll miss George.

            So, what do you think, have I convinced you yet about the similarities between these two, the Queen and Lauren?

            All right, a little more.

            It’s hard to know the Queen’s personality but she strikes me as an essentially private and shy person who plays a very public role – a public role that requires her to interact with all different kinds of people. Not easy.

            And, I’d say that Lauren is also an essentially private and shy person (you’re really enjoying all the attention tonight, right, Lauren?) she’s a private and shy person who also plays a very public role, requiring her to interact with all different kinds of people.

            In fact, this is something about Lauren that is under-appreciated: she is able to talk with anybody.

            Maybe because of her time in the city, she is able to talk easily with the wealthy and famous. I remember one time Charles Scribner III came to visit Grace Church and while I was feeling tongue-tied and thinking about my new six degrees of separation with Hemingway and Fitzgerald, she talked with “Charlie” just as comfortably as she might with any parishioner.

            And, she is equally at ease talking with people in the midst of crisis, couples hoping to marry, teenagers, Sunday School kids, hungry people at her door looking for help, and residents of the Pine Acres nursing home. All of them. It’s really remarkable – and one of the secrets of her extraordinary success.

            OK, one last thing about the Queen and Lauren: they’re signed up for life.

            Yes, it’s true that next Sunday afternoon, Lauren will ceremonially hand back the keys of the church (you’re really gonna do it, right?) and her time, this amazing time, as Rector of Grace Church will come to an end.

            Someday soon she’ll head off to her “Balmoral” in South Orange and retire.

            Sort of.

            First of all, I know for a fact that there are several priests in this diocese – maybe even some here tonight – who are quite actively lobbying Lauren to come and assist at their churches.

            Who can blame them, right?

            After all, here you have an outstanding and experienced priest suddenly available to help with preaching, teaching, and pastoral care, you name it.

            Now, I really shouldn’t say this, and I don’t want to embarrass anybody or make any of my colleagues mad, so I’m not going to get into the specifics, but I’ve told Lauren that most of these churches just really aren’t the right fit for her and for her skills.

            But…there is one, a church right in the heart of one of our big cities, where I’m sure she’d fit right in since I – I mean, the rector of that church – has stolen just about every idea from Lauren and Grace Church and plugged it into his place!

            Lauren, you still want a Last Chance Mass? You’re in luck!

            How blessed I am to have learned from – and stolen from - the best.

            So, I’m hopeful!

            But, you know, in all seriousness, in a profound sense, it doesn’t matter so much what exactly Lauren decides to do or not do in retirement.

            One of my other mentors was a priest named Frank Carr who was rector of St. Paul’s Jersey City back in the 70s and 80s.

            I didn’t know him back then, only becoming friends long after he had retired.

            And, one thing I remember about him is he’d never fail to correct people when they referred to him or one of his buddies as a “retired priest.”

            He’d bellow, “Priest, retired!”
            It may seem like a minor point but it was important to him, and it is important.

            It’s important because he, like Lauren, like all of us in ordained ministry, made a sacred promise to God, to devote ourselves body, soul, and spirit to God and God’s people – and that promise is not limited to a particular job or place or time.

            It’s a promise for life.

            And, we all fall short, but I’ve never known anyone to keep that sacred promise more faithfully than Lauren Ackland, a priest, a priest forever.           

Perseverance in Prayer

Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ

November 22, 2014

Evensong Celebrating the Thirtieth Anniversary of the Ordination of The Rev. Lauren Ackland to the Priesthood

Isaiah 6:1-8

Psalm 150

John10:11-18

Perseverance in Prayer

            A couple of weeks ago I received in the mail the invitation to today’s wonderful celebration in honor of my friend and mentor, someone I love and respect so very much, The Rev. Lauren Ackland.

            As usual, I carefully examined the card, making sure that my name was spelled correctly and noting the size of the font used to identify the name of the preacher.

            And then I noticed that the invitation declared that I would be giving a homily.

            Now, I don’t go to staff meetings at Grace anymore so I wasn’t part of the discussions that led to the use of the word “homily” rather than “sermon,” but I’m going to guess they revolved around how long I was going to preach and the length of the whole service.

            What happens if the service is too long? Will people think this satisfies their church obligation for the weekend? Will they skip church tomorrow? Will they – you - say, “Come on, we just went to church yesterday? Surely that counts!”

            So “they” went with “homily,” implying a short sermon, some brief remarks and then I’m done and we finish up the service, move on to the reception and the rest of our day, and most of us – you - hopefully go to church again tomorrow.

            Well, I’m sorry. But I’ve come all the way from Jersey City and, moreover, I feel that today’s occasion calls for something more than a homily.

            Thirty years – thirty years - of ordained ministry is, with God’s help, a major achievement and worthy of great celebration – and certainly merits a sermon, not just a homily.

            Besides, Lauren preached magnificently at both my own ordination to the priesthood right here at Grace more than seven years ago – and again at my celebration of new ministry at St. Paul’s Jersey City.

            So, now it’s my honor to return the favor.

            Thirty years.

            How many of you were at Lauren’s ordination?

            I know George was there and in fact read that same lesson from Isaiah we just heard. I’m told that, in typical fashion, he threatened to revise the words of the prophet to, “Here am I; send her!”

            He didn’t go through with it.

            But, you know, in a very real sense thirty years ago God sent both Lauren and George together on this adventure in ministry, a journey that took them from Manhattan, from their much-loved General Seminary and Church of the Ascension first to the rather unlikely spot of Oakland/Franklin Lakes where they did such great work building up St. Alban’s and then finally here to Grace Church, where as you know, she is the first woman to serve as rector.

              Through it all, Lauren and George have been a tremendous team.

             “Mr. Lauren Ackland” has been a strong and loyal, if somewhat offbeat, support for Lauren – for her life and work.

            I, of course, wasn’t at Lauren’s ordination. I mean, come on, thirty years ago I was just a child!

            But, thinking about today got me thinking about my own ordinations – both the grand celebration here at Grace and my ordination to the diaconate at our cathedral.

            At my diaconal ordination Bishop Beckwith said something that has stuck with me.

            In his sermon, the bishop said to us about-to-be deacons, “We pay you to pray.”

            “We pay you to pray.”

            I know that sounds a little commercial, kind of transactional – and I’ve never heard the bishop use that expression again - but over the years I’ve heard his words echo in my head especially during those times when I haven’t been as faithful as I should be in my personal prayers.

            “We pay you to pray” has been a reminder to me that prayer needs to be -must be - behind and beneath and above and through all the work I do as an ordained person.

            Just in case we forget the centrality of prayer for clergy, in the priestly ordination service the bishop asks the about-to-be priest, “Will you persevere in prayer, both in public and private, asking God’s grace, both for yourself and for others, offering all your labors to God, through the mediation of Jesus Christ, and in the sanctification of the Holy Spirit?”

            And the ordinand answers, “I will.”

            Now, I could stand up here all afternoon and talk about how amazing Lauren is – she’d hate that - but, let’s name it: she is remarkably hardworking, totally dedicated to the church, patient enough to sit through innumerable interminable meetings, smart – really smart, a gifted preacher and a thoughtful liturgist, a sensitive listener, a wise counselor, a good shepherd indeed, and much more.

            Lauren, how’re you doing over there?

            But, behind and beneath and above and through all of those qualities, Lauren Ackland is a person  - a priest – a rector of prayer.

            She takes her ordination vow to pray with utter seriousness.

            With God’s help, Lauren perseveres in prayer.

            She perseveres in her public prayer, rarely missing any of the daily services offered here at Grace, and she perseveres in her private prayers.

            I think even people who don’t know Lauren well can sense this prayerfulness. It’s a big reason why she is universally respected in the Church.

            Now, I can’t explain how prayer works – Lauren probably can, why don’t you ask her during the reception  – but, I think it has something to do with God wanting to share power and responsibility with us.

            Anyway, all I know is that prayer does work.

            Prayer works. And, if you don’t believe me, just look around.

            I remember when I first interviewed to be curate here at Grace. I was newly ordained and in desperate need of a job, but, as some of you know, this city kid had some misgivings about moving to the suburbs.

            That’s a story for another day, but I remember during the interview being stunned by Lauren’s description of life at Grace – so many vibrant ministries, so many people – including children and even men, so many gifted, generous people – lots and lots of them.

            There were so many services, so many kids and adults in the choirs – all volunteers, thank you very much - and there was even music at the 7:30 service on Sunday mornings – which seemed a little early to me but, um, did I mention I needed a job?

            Now, as someone from a struggling little church in the city, I remember thinking, how can this be? Sitting in her office near the end of the interview, I finally just asked, why? Why was Grace thriving? What made Grace tick?

            Prayer.

            Without hesitation, Lauren credited the health of Grace Church to the daily prayer offered here, prayer that bathes this room, prayer that has blessings more powerful and numerous than we can know or imagine.

            Over my two stints at Grace, I recognized that Lauren was right about the importance of daily worship. But I think the answer is a little deeper and more personal than that.

            Grace has thrived and continues to be a great blessing for so many of us because it is led by Lauren Ackland, a person – a priest – a rector of prayer.

            Somehow, I don’t know how exactly, Lauren’s prayers ripple out into all the ministries that happen here.

            Those prayers have touched – touch - all of our lives.

            And, I know for sure that those prayers are heard in places served by those Lauren has mentored, including in a little church in Jersey City.

            So, today we give thanks for thirty years of ordained ministry - a major achievement and worthy of great celebration, surely meriting a sermon more than a homily.

            We give thanks for the amazing partnership, the continuing journey, of Lauren and George.

            We give thanks for thirty years of ordained ministry, for all of that hard work and tireless devotion to duty, but most of all, for all of those prayers that you have offered to God for us all.

            We honor those thirty years with today’s celebration.

            But, it seems to me, that we honor Lauren best first by going to church tomorrow – the sermon wasn’t that long! – and, most of all, we honor Lauren when we follow her example, when we, you and I, all of us, with God’s help, persevere in prayer.

            Amen.

This Beautiful Place

Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ

April 28, 2013

Year C: The Fifth Sunday of Easter

Acts 11:1-18

Psalm 148

(Revelation 21:1-6)

John 13:31-35

This Beautiful Place

            Well, let me just say, where I’m going you are welcome to visit any time!

            As you might guess, getting ready to leave Grace Church (again) has stirred up in me a real mix of emotions. I’m very excited about my soon to begin ministry at St. Paul’s, Jersey City, but I’m also painfully aware of how much Sue and I will miss you. And I’ve also been thinking about all of the parish events that we will miss out on.

            For example, next week you’ll celebrate Rogation Sunday – an ancient tradition when we give thanks to God for the gift of this beautiful planet – when we ask God’s blessing on this beautiful place.

            And this is just about the best place ever to… rogate.

            So, these last few weeks I’ve been trying to pay extra close attention to my surroundings – to be mindful - to really take it all in – to appreciate the opportunity to live and work here – to give thanks for this amazing gift that I’ve been given twice.

            And I’ve been really struck by how beautiful it is here, especially during the springtime.

            Fortunately, this year we were spared any late-winter, early-spring storms so the trees and flowers have held on to their buds and blooms, giving us splashes of color up and down just about every street.

            It’s beautiful here.

            And, of course, it’s beautiful here at Grace Church.

            Yes, a lot of time, effort and money are spent keeping the grounds and the buildings looking so good – no easy task at a place that gets so much use just about every day.

            But, really, it’s beautiful here at Grace Church because of all of you.

            In today’s gospel lesson, we’re back at the Last Supper.

            In John’s telling of Jesus’ final meal with his closest friends, he gives them some hard news, “Where I am going, you cannot come.”

            At the Last Supper, in what’s called Farewell Discourse, Jesus tries to get across what’s most important. Jesus acts out how and who he wants us to be when he gets on his hands and knees and washes the feet of his disciples.

            See, this is who we’re called to be – this is who we are meant to be – this is who we really are: loving servants of God and of one another.

            In today’s lesson, Jesus sums up his teaching, spelling it out as plainly as possible: “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.”

            “Love one another.”

            Grace Church is a beautiful place because of you and the love that we share with one another.

            I could spend the rest of the day up here going on about all the beauty I’ve seen in you – I could probably preach until Rogation Sunday about all the love I’ve experienced among you.

            So much beauty: Anne and Eric and all the adults and children in the choir putting so much time and talent into their music and giving us transcendent moments on a weekly, but never routine, basis; Mary Lea and the Sunday School teachers and the youth group leaders engaging, inspiring and challenging our kids as they grow in their faith. Lauren taking her ordination vows with heartfelt devotion, giving herself in service to the church.

            So much love: the wizards who spend so many hours repairing what gets broken around here, often thinking up inexpensive solutions to costly problems; the diplomats who promote peace with our tenants; the office angels faithfully stuffing bulletins and Messenger mailings; the worship leaders offering our daily services, sometimes even alone; and the green-thumbed “lay weeders” stopping by early in the morning or late in the afternoon to give our flowers and trees a drink.

            So much beauty: the unsung heroes on the altar guild polishing the silver and washing and ironing the linens; the artists on Saturday afternoons carefully arranging the altar flowers; the intrepid flower deliverers bringing fragrant signs of love to grieving or ailing parishioners; and our sturdy ushers giving a warm welcome to all, especially newcomers and guests.

            So much love: gathering every Friday morning for breakfast at the Bagel Chateau, maybe not able to solve the world’s problems but always looking after one another and enjoying each other’s company; preparing and delivering meals to families touched by illness or grief; exchanging the peace every Sunday in a way that feels more like reunion than ritual; painstakingly crafting the church budget and focusing hawk-like attention on our finances; preparing delicious dishes for a potluck supper; rallying around parishioners facing what seem like insurmountable obstacles; and holding tight our friends suffering unimaginable pain and loss.

            So much beauty and so much love.

            Jesus said, “Love one another.”

            Grace Church is a beautiful place because of you and the love that we share with one another.

            In today’s gospel Jesus says to his closest followers, and to us here today, “By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”

            But, actually, we’re called to do even more than that.

            We’re called to love the whole world.

            And we hear that global call to love in today’s lesson from the Acts of the Apostles. Here we glimpse the first big controversy in the Church: what to do about Gentiles – non-Jews – who were following Jesus.

            Many argued that since Jesus was the Jewish messiah then non-Jewish followers should be required to obey the Jewish Law – so, for example, men should be circumcised and everyone should follow the dietary rules.

            In today’s scene, Peter tells the story of a vision he has had – and the call from the Holy Spirit to make no distinction between Jew and Gentile.

            Peter recognizes that the Gentiles have also received the gift of the Holy Spirit. And he asks a haunting question, “Who was I that I thought I could hinder God?”

            Peter realized that God was calling him to the frightening and challenging work of breaking down the boundaries between Jew and Gentile.

            And today we are called to the frightening and challenging work of breaking down the boundaries in our own time and place – the boundaries between rich and poor, between immigrant and native-born, between Republican and Democrat, between the loved and the despised, between the old and the young, between the successes and the failures, between urbanites and suburbanites.

            We’re called to the frightening and challenging work of loving everyone: the people right here in our own community, people in places like Jersey City, people everywhere and anywhere, especially the people who don’t live in physically or spiritually beautiful places – the people who aren’t living beautiful lives filled with love.

            This is who we’re called to be – this is who we are meant to be – this is who we really are: loving servants of God and of one another.

            God is calling all of us, young and not so young, to be “Grace Gives Back.”

            God is calling us to keep shattering those Souper Bowl records; to challenge Kit with figuring out how to schedule so many Recycling Ministry volunteers; to overcrowd the soup kitchen with parishioners ready to greet each guest as Christ himself; to give away so much (unexpired!) food that Jabez and Anne have call on their kids to paint some more Food for Friends barrels.

            God is calling us – kids and adults - to make mission trips to places near and far – to Main Street, to Morristown, to Jersey City, to West Virginia and beyond - mission trips that last minutes, hours or days - not every other year but all the time so that they become part of our very fabric as a church.

            This is who we’re called to be – this is who we are meant to be – this is who we really are: loving servants of God and of one another.

            Who are we that we think we can hinder God?

            During his farewell with his friends, Jesus said, “Love one another.”

            I know that with God’s help we really can love one another.

            I know we really can love one another – we can love the people sitting with us here in church and the people out there in the world.

            With God’s help, I know we really can love one another because I’ve seen it – I’ve received it – right here in this beautiful place.

            Amen.

Hearing the Good Shepherd

Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ

April 21, 2013

Year C: The Fourth Sunday of Easter

Acts 9:36-43

Psalm 23

(Revelation 7:9-17)

John 10:22-30

Hearing the Good Shepherd

            This may sound strange and surprising, but when I was in seminary I often found the chapel to be a very tense place.

            It was probably caused, at least in part, by my own insecurity. But in the chapel I was careful not to make a misstep. I was nervous that if I made too many mistakes – if I mispronounced something, if I stood when I was supposed to kneel, if (God forbid!) my cell phone rang during a service, if, if, if – then people would think that maybe I wasn’t really cut out to be a priest – that I had misheard God’s call – that the whole thing had been a big mistake.

            What made me most nervous in the chapel was singing.

            I remember the first services I attended there – I remember being surrounded by so many beautiful voices – the beautiful voices of people who had grown up in the Episcopal Church – who had been in church choirs their whole lives – people who knew the repertoire and who could really sing.

            And then there was me.

            As most of you know, I grew up in the Roman Catholic Church – a tradition that gave me many gifts, but singing wasn’t one of them.

            In my memory, it feels like in church we sang maybe a grand total of five different hymns. I use the word “sang” loosely. And, often, we didn’t sing the whole hymn – just whatever was needed to cover some liturgical action, like the procession or recession.

            One of those five hymns was called “I the Lord of sea and sky” – maybe better known as “Hear I am.” I bet all of you former Roman Catholics know the refrain:

Here I am Lord. Is it I Lord?

I have heard you calling in the night.

I will go, Lord, if you lead me,

I will hold your people in my heart.

            It’s a hymn that never fails to make me tear up, because of the words themselves and, I admit, a sugary dash of childhood nostalgia.

             “Here I am” isn’t in our hymnal but it is in a supplement called “Wonder, Love, and Praise.”

            Anyway, back to the seminary. One day we sang “Here I am” one day during a service in the chapel. As I was croaking it out and trying not to cry, I heard whispers behind me - and some chuckling.

            I shouldn’t have, but I turned around - and saw it was two professors.

            They noticed my look, I guess, and after the service they explained that during the hymn they had asked each other if they ever had heard the Lord “calling in the night.”

            And the answer was no.

            I was reminded of this story when I reflected on today’s lesson from the Gospel of John.

            Remember that John is the last of the four gospels to be completed, probably around the end of the First Century – several generations after the earthly lifetime of Jesus and his first followers.

            So, John is a complex and profound product of divine inspiration working through decades of Christian reflection on the meaning of Jesus’ life, death and resurrection.

            And the Gospel of John also reflects some of the painfully divisive issues and challenges facing at least one Christian community near the end of the First Century.

            The passage we heard today is especially dense with rich theology.

            We’re told that Jesus is walking in the Jerusalem Temple at the festival of the Dedication – better known to us today as Hanukkah.           

            So that’s the setting for this little exchange between Jesus and some people described as “the Jews” – representing the many people who did not accept Jesus as messiah.

            They want to know, “If you are the Messiah, tell us plainly.”

            Jesus reminds them that he has told them. And, he tells them, “The works I do in my Father’s name testify to me.”

            After Jesus dismisses them as not part of his fold, he says:

            “My sheep hear my voice. I know them, and they follow me.”

            “My sheep hear my voice.”

            And that’s what reminded me of the hymn…

            “Here I am Lord. Is it I Lord?

            I have heard you calling in the night.”

            And I wonder: when do we hear the call of the Good Shepherd?

            How do we – how would we - hear the call of the Good Shepherd?

            Last week here in church we heard the dramatic story of the conversion of Saul, when on the road to Damascus still breathing threats and murder, he was knocked to the ground, blinded and heard the voice of the Risen Christ: “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?”

            Saul heard the call of the Good Shepherd in a startling, life-shattering way, sending his life hurtling in a totally different direction, on his way to becoming St. Paul.

            But, few, if any, of us hear the call of the Good Shepherd quite like that.

            And, we all know, it’s hard to hear the call of the Good Shepherd – or anything else, for that matter, in our modern world with its many, many tempting distractions, relentlessly drawing our attention to computer screen, cell phone, texts, facebook, twitter, and other social media I’m sure I haven’t even heard of yet.

            It’s hard to hear the call of the Good Shepherd in our lives – lives often filled with work and worry, with loneliness and longing, with pressure and pretending.

            And it’s hard to hear the call of the Good Shepherd in our fallen and broken world filled with senseless, heartbreaking, violence – in a world armed to the teeth, in a world where some people are willing and able to use both crude and sophisticated means to maim and kill people going about their lives – running  - or cheering on runners – in a marathon.

            In our lives – in this fallen, broken and messed-up world – it’s hard to hear the call of the Good Shepherd.

            But, the Good Shepherd continues to call us.

            In today’s gospel Jesus tells the people who question him, “The works that I do in my Father’s Name testify to me.”

            And in today’s reading from Acts we heard about Peter – good old flawed, bumbling, often misguided Peter, raising Tabitha from the dead. The point is that the Risen Christ continued to do his works through a flawed vessel like Peter. And the Risen Christ continues to do his works through flawed, bumbling, often misguided people just like us.

            And what are those works? It’s the work of self-giving. It’s the work of self-sacrifice. It’s the work of transforming seeming defeat into triumphant victory. It’s the work of turning death into life.

            These past few days I’m sure we were moved by the selfless acts of courage, heroism and skill by police and FBI agents in Boston – the people whose job is to run straight into danger.

            I think I was most touched, though, by the stories on Monday of the marathon runners who kept right on running – not home, not to their hotel, not off to hide and collapse somewhere - but straight to the hospital to donate blood for the victims.

            I bet those runners are just as flawed, bumbling and imperfect as the rest of us. Yet, on that horrible day they were willing to give of themselves – to sacrifice – to transform seeming defeat into triumphant victory – to turn death into life.

            In and through them and so many others, we can hear the call of the Good Shepherd – the call to love one another, the call to give away our lives in service to God – the call to give away our lives in service to our broken, fallen, messed up world.

            May the world hear the call of the Good Shepherd in and through us…

            And, then, maybe, this can really be our song:

            Here I am, Lord. Is it I, Lord?

            I have heard you calling in the night.

            I will go, Lord, if you lead me.

            I will hold your people in my heart.

            Amen.

           

            

Conversion and Full Nets

Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ

April 14, 2013

Year C: The Third Sunday of Easter

Acts 9:1-20

Psalm 30

Revelation 5:11-14

John 21:1-19

Conversion and Full Nets

            One time during the year when Sue and I were living in Gainesville, Florida, I heard a series of talks given by Bart Ehrman, a professor of Religious Studies at Chapel Hill, who’s also a best-selling author. Maybe you’ve read some of his books or seen him on TV.

            His field is early Christian literature – both what’s in the Bible and other writings that were not included in what’s called the canon.

            Ehrman’s talk was sponsored by the big Episcopal church in downtown Gainesville – so the audience was made up of mostly faithful churchgoers, along with some people from the outside community and the University of Florida.

            Anyway, his talk was interesting, though there wasn’t much news for anyone who had read his books.

            At one point, during the Q and A, someone asked him if he believed in God and in Jesus.

            He was clearly uncomfortable with the question and seemed almost sad as he gave his answer. Essentially, he said no – that while he was open to the possibility that there might be some creative force behind the universe he could not believe that this was the God of Israel and the God of Jesus. It was a very poignant moment when Ehrman, a scholar who has devoted his professional life to studying early Christian literature, admitted that he is no longer a Christian.

            Fast-forward to last year when Ehrman published his most recent book. When I saw the title, I thought, oh boy, here we go.

            It’s called Did Jesus Exist?

            On the back cover it says, “The truth behind the Jesus Myth.”

            My assumption was that this scholar who had lost his faith had now written a book to suggest that Jesus of Nazareth never even existed.

            But, I’m happy to report that’s not what Ehrman is up to in his book. The subtitle is “The Historical Argument for Jesus of Nazareth.” In his book, Ehrman systematically takes on and rebuts the various writers and thinkers who have claimed that there was no historical Jesus. It’s worth reading.

            In one key section of his book, Ehrman takes on and demolishes the idea that some Jewish people back in the First Century just made up Jesus. He does this by summarizing the First Century Jewish expectations of what the Messiah would be like. He writes they expected, “…the messiah would be a future ruler of the people of Israel, leading a real kingdom on earth. He would be visibly and openly known to be God’s special emissary, the anointed one. And he would be high and mighty, a figure of grandeur and power.”

            Ehrman argues that no First Century Jew could have possibly made up the story of a messiah who was a nobody from Nazareth who was rejected and executed in the most shameful way – as a common criminal.

            It was more than ridiculous and outlandish – these claims made about Jesus as messiah would have been seen as an insult to God – as blasphemy.

            Which helps to explain why the author of Acts tells us that Saul the Pharisee breathed threats and murder against the disciples of the Lord.

            Saul had already been introduced earlier in Acts at the martyrdom of a follower of Jesus named Stephen. We’re told that as the angry crowd stoned Stephen to death, Saul held their coats and “approved of their killing them.”

            Now in today’s lesson Saul is back, still angry, and on his way to Damascus to arrest Christians, followers of “the Way,” and bring them back to Jerusalem for punishment.

            But, it’s on the road to Damascus that Saul had one of the most dramatic conversion experiences of all time – and began his journey to become St. Paul, the apostle to the gentiles, the non-Jews.

            Saul, who had never met Jesus during his earthly lifetime, endured his own kind of death and resurrection. We’re told that after seeing the intense light and hearing the voice of Jesus, he was blind for three days and ate and drank nothing.

            But then, after Ananias laid hands on him, his sight was restored. He was baptized and reborn. His life took off in a radically different direction.

            Saul who had breathed threats and murder against the Christians now boldly proclaimed Jesus in the synagogues, saying, “He is the Son of God.”

            We know from his own letters and from the Acts of the Apostles that Paul gave away the rest of his life spreading the Good News of Christ – the Good News of this most unexpected, humble, nobody messiah. Along the way, Paul faced many challenges and disappointments – the dangers of travel around the Mediterranean, rejection, ridicule, disputes with other disciples, arrests, beatings and, finally, according to early Christian tradition, martyrdom with Peter at Rome in the early 60s.

            I’ve met a few people – and read many stories about others – who have had powerful conversion experiences – sudden moments when God seemed to intervene in history, dramatically changing the course of their lives.

            Maybe some of you have had experiences like that.

            Not me. Oh, there have been milestones and forks in the road – in fact, one of them is coming up in just a few weeks – but no flash of light, no voice from heaven, no dramatic change.

            We might think that it’s a lot easier to have faith when we’ve been blessed with a powerful conversion experience.

            I’m not so sure.

            A conversion experience can become an idol – a story, an experience, that’s so important and so meaningful that we get stuck, telling it over and over, polishing it like some sacred and valuable object.

            Another danger of a conversion experience is that later we can start to question, to doubt, our own memories. Did that really happen? Did I really hear the voice of Jesus or was it just a hallucination or a seizure or a dream?  It was so long ago, it doesn’t seem real to me anymore…

            No, it wasn’t the flash of light and the voice of Christ that sustained Paul during those years of proclaiming the Good News to the gentiles. Despite all the challenges and disappointments, Paul was sustained by God’s overflowing abundance. Paul was sustained when he saw, over and over, the power of Christ transforming lives in places like Corinth and Philippi and Galatia.

            Paul was a tent-maker, not a fisherman, but his spiritual nets were nearly bursting at the seams, giving him the confidence and courage to move forward into the unknown, risking it all, giving away his life for Christ, the unlikely and unexpected messiah.

            And the same is true for us.

            Whether or not we’ve had some powerful conversion experience, we all face many challenges and disappointments in our lives: regret, fear, rejection and heartbreaking loss.

            We’re not here because of a supernatural experience or because of some book we’ve read about Jesus. No. We’re here – we’re Christians - because somehow even in the midst of challenges and disappointments – even in the midst of our own sin – somehow, together, our spiritual nets are also nearly bursting at the seams.

            Just look around – look at the power of Christ transforming lives right here at Grace Church – inspiring people to care for one another during those challenging and disappointing times of regret, fear, rejection and heartbreaking loss – the power of Christ inspiring us to pick up the phone, to send an email, to drop off a meal, to offer a hug or a shoulder to cry on.

            Just look around – look at the girls and the moms who’ve put on Doll four years running. Look at the children and the adults who give up so much valuable time to make beautiful music here week after week.

            Just look around – look at Kit and his small band of volunteers doing well by doing good, delivering household items that transform the lives of so many people.

            Just look around – look at the people visiting shut-ins, people in the hospital and in nursing homes.

            Just look around – look around and imagine all of the other generous acts that go on around here that most people – even Lauren and I – never know about or only find out about long after the fact.

            Just look around – look and see the power of Christ filling our spiritual nets until they’re nearly bursting at the seams.

            On the road to Damascus, Saul had a dramatic conversion experience – transforming him from the Pharisee who breathed threats and murder against the disciples into an apostle boldly proclaiming Jesus, the unlikely and unexpected messiah, as the Son of God.

            But what sustained and inspired Paul – and can sustain and inspire us -whether we’ve had a conversion experience or not – is the encounter with the Risen Christ in and through one another – the realization that together our spiritual nets are nearly bursting at the seams.           

            If we only just look.

            Amen.