Trinity + St. Philip's Cathedral, Newark NJ
Service of Renewal of Ordination Vows
April 7, 2009
The Tuesday in Holy Week
Jeremiah 1:4-9
Psalm 119:33-40
Matthew 9:35-38
Two Bookend Experiences
At Grace Church in Madison where I’m the curate I have sort of a running joke with the rector, Lauren Ackland. It’s not particularly funny, so don’t feel obliged to laugh. The joke is whenever I’m faced with the task of preaching a difficult text or whenever inspiration doesn’t seem to be striking I often say, “Lauren, don’t worry - it’s no problem, I’ve got it – I’ll just talk about myself.”
Even though by now she’s heard this routine many times, Lauren is very polite so she’ll usually at least smile. Not quitting while I’m ahead, to get a laugh, sometimes I push it a little further and start to say something in “preacher voice” like, “I’m reminded of one day when I was in third grade, I was sitting in math class, and…”
At this point - if I still haven’t gotten a laugh - then I usually back away slowly and slink back to my office and get to work on the sermon.
I had one of those situations a couple of weeks ago when, like many of you, I guess, I had to preach on that bizarre story from Numbers about God sending poisonous snakes to kill the Israelites and then instructing Moses to create an idol, which apparently did the trick. As for the prohibition against idolatry – it seems there’s an exception in case of attack by poisonous snakes.
And now this morning I’m faced with one of those challenging situations again with the task of preaching to you – most of whom have been ordained far longer than I have been – preaching to you about…ordained life.
So, although I’m not a kid anymore, I can really sympathize with Jeremiah when he tries to wiggle out of the task he’s been given from God by saying he’s only a child.
But, Lauren, don’t worry – I’ve got it – I’ll just talk about myself!!
Having lived almost my whole life in Jersey City, I wasn’t able to come up with any poisonous snake stories, but I have had lots of experience with the ordained. And, as I’ve reflected back, I realize that I have had two bookend experiences that have shaped my understanding of what it means to be ordained. These two bookend experiences have shaped my understanding of our vocation, the kinds of lives we are called to lead as deacons and priests.
The first of these bookend experiences was way back in about 1971, when I was three or four years old. As good Roman Catholics, each Sunday my parents and I went to church – in this case St. Boniface Church in downtown Jersey City. One of the priests there was named Jack Egan – some of you Hudson County folks may remember him. He was actually one of the many Roman priests who had been radicalized be Vatican II. But, of course, as a little kid I knew nothing about that – all I knew was when he came down the aisle to shake my hand at the peace, I always refused.
I can’t explain why – maybe shyness or standoffishness - but that is my earliest church memory. The priest, smiling, extending his hand, and I shake my head no, or turn away, as my embarrassed parents smile apologetically.
Fast-forward about thirty years. By then I was married, still living in Jersey City and now teaching history at St. Peter’s Prep. My wife Sue and I were having trouble finding a church home. A fellow teacher said that we should take a look at her church, St. Paul’s Episcopal, which was actually just a few blocks from our house.
Since I’m interested in local history I thought this would be a chance to see the inside of this historic church. The Sunday when we visited St. Paul’s we discovered a beautiful church with a diverse and welcoming congregation, great music and intelligent and passionate preaching.
But what sticks out most in my memory is the exchange of peace. People seemed genuinely happy to see each other and to offer one another a sign of peace. People were out in the aisles, shaking hands and hugging one another.
Sue and I didn’t know how to react. This was very friendly. Very different from what we were used to – maybe you’ve seen this - people hoping no one would sit near them so they could just give a little wave rather than having any physical contact.
Anyway, near the end of the peace the priest approached Sue and me, reached out his hand and said, “I’m Dave Hamilton. Welcome to St. Paul’s.”
This time, instead of standoffishly turning away, I reached out my hand in return and began a journey that has led to me standing here today.
These two bookends – these two stories of priests reaching out – symbolize for me the kind of lives we are called to lead as ordained people.
Reaching out is the heart of ordained ministry.
The work that Jesus describes as the “harvest” is our vocation. It’s the vocation of reaching out to people – to a world – that is surely at least as harassed and helpless as the people of Israel were during Jesus’ earthly lifetime.
And when we stop and think about the enormity of that vocation, I am sure all of us have felt overwhelmed.
Fortunately, though, as I frequently need to be reminded, it’s not really about us. No, our task is simply being open enough to allow God to work through us – open enough to allow God to reach out through us – to reach out to a world desperate to hear the Good News of Jesus Christ and to see that Good News in action.
And - as I’ve already discovered in the short time I’ve been ordained - if we are open enough to allow God to reach out through us - it’s amazing what can happen.
As Gail Godwin writes in her novel Evensong, “Something’s your vocation if it keeps making more of you.”
I’ve heard the bishop quote that line and I quoted it in some the things I wrote for the Commission on Ministry when I was in the ordination process.
But I am only now beginning to realize just what it means.
“Something’s your vocation if it keeps making more of you.”
To be honest, there are plenty of times when I wonder what I’ve gotten myself into and think, you know what, I should have stuck with teaching history. I mean where’s the good news in poisonous snakes? And I do miss Saturday night. And I could really live without having to chant in front of so many talented singers. And I used to have the whole summer off – what was I thinking giving that up!?
But at my best, when I am open enough to allow God to do God’s work through me, then I remember this really is my vocation and that by reaching out God keeps making more of me.
When I’m open enough to allow God to do God’s work, when I’m open enough to allow God to reach out through me, then the visit to the hospital seems to happen at just the right time or an image in a sermon seems to land in someone’s heart, or I run into someone on the street or in the supermarket and it’s like they’ve been waiting for me and their fears and joys just pour out of them right then and there.
And each Sunday at the peace as I make my way down the aisle I remember my two bookends. Sometimes little kids see me coming in this weird outfit, smiling. I reach out my hand and they turn away in fear, or, who knows, maybe standoffishness. And I think – vocation!.
And there are other times when I’ll spot newcomers, go over, reach out my hand and say, “I’m Tom Murphy. Welcome to Grace Church.”
May the renewal of our vows inspire us to even greater openness, allowing God to reach out through us into the harvest.
Amen.
Tuesday, April 07, 2009
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
Good (!) News from the Greater Church
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
The Messenger
April 2009
Good (!) News from the Greater Church
Since Grace Church is a big and busy place our monthly vestry meetings tend to be packed with lots of business – reports about various ministries, discussion about finances, and planning for future events. In addition to all of that, at each meeting at least a little bit of time is set aside for “News from the Greater Church.” During this part of the meeting Lauren and I take a few minutes to report on what has been happening in the Episcopal Church and the Diocese of Newark. Sometimes we happily tell the vestry about the ordination of a new priest or the institution of a new rector in a nearby church. Unfortunately, all too often we share sad news about continuing arguments in the Anglican Communion and the Episcopal Church about the interpretation of Scripture, human sexuality, and, of course, money and property. Dwelling on the strife in the “greater church” can be discouraging and often it’s a relief when this part of the meeting is over and we return to the business of Grace Church.
Over the past few months, however, I have had some wonderful experiences of church beyond Grace Church, so I thought I would use this month’s message to share some good news from the greater church!
On February 8th, the youth confirmation class and I attended the annual Absalom Jones service at Trinity + St. Philip’s Cathedral in Newark. Although perhaps a little too long, this was a powerful experience of the Church at its best. Many people from across the diocese attended the service to honor the first African-American priest in the Episcopal Church. This joyful celebration, led by Bishop Beckwith, featured first-rate music performed by choirs from around the diocese and a challenging sermon from the Rev. Renee Hill, an Episcopal priest and Director of Programs at the Temple of Understanding, a multi-faith education organization in New York. And then the confirmands and I finished off this great day with a dinner at Five Guys on Main Street in Madison!
The following weekend I was at St. Paul’s in Chatham serving along with the Rev. Elizabeth Kaeton and the Rev. Michael Sniffen (who was sponsored for ordination by Grace - you may remember him as “our seminarian Michael”) as a spiritual director for Happening, the diocesan retreat for high school age youth. I was very impressed by Ms. Kai Alston, the diocesan youth missioner, as well as the young people from around the diocese who planned and led the retreat. In their talks, the retreat leaders movingly shared some of their own experiences and challenges and offered deep reflection on the place of faith in our lives. One of the best features of the retreat is that it brought together young people from places such as Newark, Chatham, Paterson, and Phillipsburg who otherwise might never have encountered one another but have now become good friends. I came home from Chatham inspired by theses wonderful young people from around our diocese.
In early March our 12 youth confirmands and I made a diocesan confirmation retreat at All Saints in Bergenfield. We were there with people from a number of different churches, including All Saints in Glen Rock and Grace Church in Newark. Again, it was a fantastic opportunity for us to meet others from around the diocese. It was easy to work with this group of young people who were able to have fun playing games such as “Confirmation Jeopardy” but also able to speak freely and honestly about their faith and why they were seeking Confirmation. Many of our confirmands enjoyed their meeting with Bishop Beckwith. They were pleasantly surprised to find out that he is a “normal person” who is genuinely interested in their lives.
Finally, also in early March, George Hayman and I took a tour of St. Philip’s Academy, the Episcopal elementary and middle school housed in a dramatically transformed candy factory in the Central Ward of Newark. We were led around by a remarkably sharp, poised and proud middle school student. He showed off the gym where we saw the fencing team practicing, the cafeteria where he informed us about the organic and nutritious food served there, the rooftop garden where students grow some of their own food, and classrooms creatively decorated and featuring state of the art technology. It is clear that the students at St. Philip’s are receiving a first-class education. I encourage you to visit the school’s website to learn more: www.stphilipsacademy.org.
These experiences have renewed my pride in being a member of the Episcopal Church and the Diocese of Newark. We are part of something very good!
The Messenger
April 2009
Good (!) News from the Greater Church
Since Grace Church is a big and busy place our monthly vestry meetings tend to be packed with lots of business – reports about various ministries, discussion about finances, and planning for future events. In addition to all of that, at each meeting at least a little bit of time is set aside for “News from the Greater Church.” During this part of the meeting Lauren and I take a few minutes to report on what has been happening in the Episcopal Church and the Diocese of Newark. Sometimes we happily tell the vestry about the ordination of a new priest or the institution of a new rector in a nearby church. Unfortunately, all too often we share sad news about continuing arguments in the Anglican Communion and the Episcopal Church about the interpretation of Scripture, human sexuality, and, of course, money and property. Dwelling on the strife in the “greater church” can be discouraging and often it’s a relief when this part of the meeting is over and we return to the business of Grace Church.
Over the past few months, however, I have had some wonderful experiences of church beyond Grace Church, so I thought I would use this month’s message to share some good news from the greater church!
On February 8th, the youth confirmation class and I attended the annual Absalom Jones service at Trinity + St. Philip’s Cathedral in Newark. Although perhaps a little too long, this was a powerful experience of the Church at its best. Many people from across the diocese attended the service to honor the first African-American priest in the Episcopal Church. This joyful celebration, led by Bishop Beckwith, featured first-rate music performed by choirs from around the diocese and a challenging sermon from the Rev. Renee Hill, an Episcopal priest and Director of Programs at the Temple of Understanding, a multi-faith education organization in New York. And then the confirmands and I finished off this great day with a dinner at Five Guys on Main Street in Madison!
The following weekend I was at St. Paul’s in Chatham serving along with the Rev. Elizabeth Kaeton and the Rev. Michael Sniffen (who was sponsored for ordination by Grace - you may remember him as “our seminarian Michael”) as a spiritual director for Happening, the diocesan retreat for high school age youth. I was very impressed by Ms. Kai Alston, the diocesan youth missioner, as well as the young people from around the diocese who planned and led the retreat. In their talks, the retreat leaders movingly shared some of their own experiences and challenges and offered deep reflection on the place of faith in our lives. One of the best features of the retreat is that it brought together young people from places such as Newark, Chatham, Paterson, and Phillipsburg who otherwise might never have encountered one another but have now become good friends. I came home from Chatham inspired by theses wonderful young people from around our diocese.
In early March our 12 youth confirmands and I made a diocesan confirmation retreat at All Saints in Bergenfield. We were there with people from a number of different churches, including All Saints in Glen Rock and Grace Church in Newark. Again, it was a fantastic opportunity for us to meet others from around the diocese. It was easy to work with this group of young people who were able to have fun playing games such as “Confirmation Jeopardy” but also able to speak freely and honestly about their faith and why they were seeking Confirmation. Many of our confirmands enjoyed their meeting with Bishop Beckwith. They were pleasantly surprised to find out that he is a “normal person” who is genuinely interested in their lives.
Finally, also in early March, George Hayman and I took a tour of St. Philip’s Academy, the Episcopal elementary and middle school housed in a dramatically transformed candy factory in the Central Ward of Newark. We were led around by a remarkably sharp, poised and proud middle school student. He showed off the gym where we saw the fencing team practicing, the cafeteria where he informed us about the organic and nutritious food served there, the rooftop garden where students grow some of their own food, and classrooms creatively decorated and featuring state of the art technology. It is clear that the students at St. Philip’s are receiving a first-class education. I encourage you to visit the school’s website to learn more: www.stphilipsacademy.org.
These experiences have renewed my pride in being a member of the Episcopal Church and the Diocese of Newark. We are part of something very good!
Sunday, March 22, 2009
God's Intervention
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
March 22, 2009
Year B: The Fourth Sunday in Lent
Numbers 21:4-9
Psalm 107:1-3, 17-22
(Ephesians 2:1-10)
John 3:14-21
God’s Intervention
A number of years ago a friend of ours who is an alcoholic went through what’s known as an intervention. We didn’t know him back then, but we’ve heard his story many times. His drinking had gotten out of control. His addiction was destroying his life and the lives of those around him. Finally one day, his friends and family gathered and had an intervention. They told him this was the chance for his life to be saved. This was his chance to choose light over shadow, life over death. He went into rehab and began his life of sobriety that has continued through all the ups and downs of life to this very day.
Our friend has often said to Sue and me that he was a very different person when he was drinking and that we wouldn’t have liked him very much back in those days. I’ve never been part of an intervention, but one of the TV shows I occasionally watch is a reality show on A&E called Intervention. Has anyone ever seen it? It’s fascinating and disturbing television.
Each episode follows pretty much the same format. We are introduced to the addict. Their addictions range from alcohol to drugs to food to gambling – you name it. The addicts have agreed to participate in the filming because they think they are in a documentary about addiction. Supposedly they don’t know that as part of the documentary they will face an intervention.
So the cameras – and we viewers - follow these poor souls through their nightmarish lives of addiction.
Each episode follows a predictable formula. Next the producers switch gears. Next we see photos and sometimes video of the person before addiction overwhelmed their lives. Almost always a parent or a sibling will say something like, “he was such a wonderful child, so outgoing, so much fun, so beautiful…”
And then, almost always, we find out that something terrible went wrong in their lives. Maybe it was the death of a parent. Or maybe it was some kind of child abuse. Or maybe they just fell in with the “wrong crowd” and the downward spiral began.
Next we see the interventionist meeting with the family and friends of the addict. The interventionist emphasizes that they must be firm with him or her. They are going to be offered the gift of treatment. Since the addict is free to refuse this gift, they have to know that if they refuse treatment there will be real consequences – no more money, no more free room and board, no more contact.
Obviously the point is not be cruel, but to convince the person to seek treatment – to accept the gift.
Anyway, the show reaches its dramatic high point when the addict arrives for what he or she thinks is the final interview for the show and is surprised to discover a room full of family and friends.
Each person takes their turn talking about how this addiction has negatively affected their lives. Then they always say, please accept this gift. But, if you don’t accept this gift, these will be the consequences…
Please accept this gift…
And then it’s up to the addicted person. Accept the gift or not? In the language of Jesus in today’s gospel lesson – choose light or darkness? Choose life or choose death?
Today is the Fourth Sunday in Lent – sometimes called Laetare Sunday. It’s one of the two Sundays when we wear the rose vestments, symbolizing a little break from - a little lightening of - the penance of Lent. It’s a day when we are to remind ourselves of the joyfulness of being a Christian.
So imagine my surprise when looked ahead to today’s lessons and saw the reading from Numbers. On Laetare Sunday – when Lauren and I are wearing our rose vestments, not to mention it’s Pajama Sunday! – we are given this somewhat bizarre story of God getting fed up by the complaints of the people and sending poisonous snakes to bite and kill them. Um, OK. And then, the story continues, God tells Moses to make a bronze snake, put it on a pole, and use it in a way that sounds suspiciously like… idolatry. Hmmm…
Now, obviously we are given this lesson because in the gospel Jesus says to Nicodemus, “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.”
The story about the snakes is in the Book of Numbers. And it comes at the end of the first section of that book that retells the story of the Israelites wandering in the desert for forty years. You know the story. This so-called “wilderness generation” has repeatedly complained about leaving Egypt and the leadership of Moses. They are caught up in a seemingly unbreakable, seemingly hopeless pattern of complaint, ingratitude and selfishness.
And so, through Moses, God once again offers the Israelites an intervention. While in the Bible snakes are usually negative symbols, in this story the bronze snake idol becomes a symbol of God’s healing power.
In this story Moses puts the bronze snake on a pole and if a person bitten by the snake chose to look at it, they would live.
If a person bitten by a snake chose to accept the gift they were given, they would live.
In this old and strange story God offered a kind of intervention. But it was up to the Israelites to accept this gift or not accept this gift. It was up to them to choose the light or to choose the darkness, to choose life or choose death.
Of course, God’s ultimate intervention is Jesus.
“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son…”
God’s ultimate gift is coming and living as one of us, facing rejection and death, so that, as Jesus tells Nicodemus the Pharisee, “everyone who believes in him may not perish but have eternal life.”
The Evangelist John is careful to note that Nicodemus has come to see Jesus by night. Nicodemus the Pharisee is not quite ready to accept the gift that is being offered in Jesus. Nicodemus is not quite willing to accept God’s intervention. Nicodemus is not yet willing to come out into the light.
Not surprisingly, in the TV show Intervention the addicts are very often reluctant to accept the gift that is offered to them. Even after hearing the pleading from their family and friends, even after hearing what the consequences will be if they say no to treatment, often they are still reluctant to choose light over darkness.
Obviously much of that resistance comes from the power of physical addiction and the fear of withdrawal.
Yet, very often the same kind of resistance happens in our spiritual life. In this conversation Nicodemus says to Jesus, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God.”
Nicodemus knows enough to say Jesus has come from God. Nicodemus recognizes the gift being offered in Jesus and yet at least for now he is not yet willing to accept God’s intervention.
How about us?
In our hearts we know that we need God’s help. We know that when we do it our way, when we try to go it alone, we end up in a dead end.
And we also know the gift that is being offered to us in Jesus. What prevents us from accepting the gift? Is it fear? Is it fear of what it would mean to really live as a Christian? Is it fear of the hard work of really facing up to our own sinfulness, our own turning away from God?
We have a choice. We can accept the gift we are being given in Jesus – or not.
On the TV show, most of the time the person accepts the intervention. That doesn’t mean that there won’t be problems and challenges ahead. All of us face the ups and downs of life. But very often the producers interview the person weeks or months later – and the physical, emotional and, yes, spiritual transformation is remarkable. They usually look like different people. Looking back, often they can hardly believe they lived such lives of darkness.
We have a choice. We can accept the gift we are being offered – or not.
As for Nicodemus, he appears twice more in John’s gospel. First, he speaks up for Jesus – in broad daylight apparently – to the chief priests and his fellow Pharisees. And finally, he appears one more time anointing Jesus’ crucified body and helping Joseph of Arimathea bury Jesus in the tomb.
It seems that Nicodemus was making his way from shadow to light. It seems that he was accepting God’s intervention, accepting the gift given to us in Jesus.
How about us? Will we accept the gift given to us in Jesus?
Amen.
March 22, 2009
Year B: The Fourth Sunday in Lent
Numbers 21:4-9
Psalm 107:1-3, 17-22
(Ephesians 2:1-10)
John 3:14-21
God’s Intervention
A number of years ago a friend of ours who is an alcoholic went through what’s known as an intervention. We didn’t know him back then, but we’ve heard his story many times. His drinking had gotten out of control. His addiction was destroying his life and the lives of those around him. Finally one day, his friends and family gathered and had an intervention. They told him this was the chance for his life to be saved. This was his chance to choose light over shadow, life over death. He went into rehab and began his life of sobriety that has continued through all the ups and downs of life to this very day.
Our friend has often said to Sue and me that he was a very different person when he was drinking and that we wouldn’t have liked him very much back in those days. I’ve never been part of an intervention, but one of the TV shows I occasionally watch is a reality show on A&E called Intervention. Has anyone ever seen it? It’s fascinating and disturbing television.
Each episode follows pretty much the same format. We are introduced to the addict. Their addictions range from alcohol to drugs to food to gambling – you name it. The addicts have agreed to participate in the filming because they think they are in a documentary about addiction. Supposedly they don’t know that as part of the documentary they will face an intervention.
So the cameras – and we viewers - follow these poor souls through their nightmarish lives of addiction.
Each episode follows a predictable formula. Next the producers switch gears. Next we see photos and sometimes video of the person before addiction overwhelmed their lives. Almost always a parent or a sibling will say something like, “he was such a wonderful child, so outgoing, so much fun, so beautiful…”
And then, almost always, we find out that something terrible went wrong in their lives. Maybe it was the death of a parent. Or maybe it was some kind of child abuse. Or maybe they just fell in with the “wrong crowd” and the downward spiral began.
Next we see the interventionist meeting with the family and friends of the addict. The interventionist emphasizes that they must be firm with him or her. They are going to be offered the gift of treatment. Since the addict is free to refuse this gift, they have to know that if they refuse treatment there will be real consequences – no more money, no more free room and board, no more contact.
Obviously the point is not be cruel, but to convince the person to seek treatment – to accept the gift.
Anyway, the show reaches its dramatic high point when the addict arrives for what he or she thinks is the final interview for the show and is surprised to discover a room full of family and friends.
Each person takes their turn talking about how this addiction has negatively affected their lives. Then they always say, please accept this gift. But, if you don’t accept this gift, these will be the consequences…
Please accept this gift…
And then it’s up to the addicted person. Accept the gift or not? In the language of Jesus in today’s gospel lesson – choose light or darkness? Choose life or choose death?
Today is the Fourth Sunday in Lent – sometimes called Laetare Sunday. It’s one of the two Sundays when we wear the rose vestments, symbolizing a little break from - a little lightening of - the penance of Lent. It’s a day when we are to remind ourselves of the joyfulness of being a Christian.
So imagine my surprise when looked ahead to today’s lessons and saw the reading from Numbers. On Laetare Sunday – when Lauren and I are wearing our rose vestments, not to mention it’s Pajama Sunday! – we are given this somewhat bizarre story of God getting fed up by the complaints of the people and sending poisonous snakes to bite and kill them. Um, OK. And then, the story continues, God tells Moses to make a bronze snake, put it on a pole, and use it in a way that sounds suspiciously like… idolatry. Hmmm…
Now, obviously we are given this lesson because in the gospel Jesus says to Nicodemus, “Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.”
The story about the snakes is in the Book of Numbers. And it comes at the end of the first section of that book that retells the story of the Israelites wandering in the desert for forty years. You know the story. This so-called “wilderness generation” has repeatedly complained about leaving Egypt and the leadership of Moses. They are caught up in a seemingly unbreakable, seemingly hopeless pattern of complaint, ingratitude and selfishness.
And so, through Moses, God once again offers the Israelites an intervention. While in the Bible snakes are usually negative symbols, in this story the bronze snake idol becomes a symbol of God’s healing power.
In this story Moses puts the bronze snake on a pole and if a person bitten by the snake chose to look at it, they would live.
If a person bitten by a snake chose to accept the gift they were given, they would live.
In this old and strange story God offered a kind of intervention. But it was up to the Israelites to accept this gift or not accept this gift. It was up to them to choose the light or to choose the darkness, to choose life or choose death.
Of course, God’s ultimate intervention is Jesus.
“For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son…”
God’s ultimate gift is coming and living as one of us, facing rejection and death, so that, as Jesus tells Nicodemus the Pharisee, “everyone who believes in him may not perish but have eternal life.”
The Evangelist John is careful to note that Nicodemus has come to see Jesus by night. Nicodemus the Pharisee is not quite ready to accept the gift that is being offered in Jesus. Nicodemus is not quite willing to accept God’s intervention. Nicodemus is not yet willing to come out into the light.
Not surprisingly, in the TV show Intervention the addicts are very often reluctant to accept the gift that is offered to them. Even after hearing the pleading from their family and friends, even after hearing what the consequences will be if they say no to treatment, often they are still reluctant to choose light over darkness.
Obviously much of that resistance comes from the power of physical addiction and the fear of withdrawal.
Yet, very often the same kind of resistance happens in our spiritual life. In this conversation Nicodemus says to Jesus, “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God.”
Nicodemus knows enough to say Jesus has come from God. Nicodemus recognizes the gift being offered in Jesus and yet at least for now he is not yet willing to accept God’s intervention.
How about us?
In our hearts we know that we need God’s help. We know that when we do it our way, when we try to go it alone, we end up in a dead end.
And we also know the gift that is being offered to us in Jesus. What prevents us from accepting the gift? Is it fear? Is it fear of what it would mean to really live as a Christian? Is it fear of the hard work of really facing up to our own sinfulness, our own turning away from God?
We have a choice. We can accept the gift we are being given in Jesus – or not.
On the TV show, most of the time the person accepts the intervention. That doesn’t mean that there won’t be problems and challenges ahead. All of us face the ups and downs of life. But very often the producers interview the person weeks or months later – and the physical, emotional and, yes, spiritual transformation is remarkable. They usually look like different people. Looking back, often they can hardly believe they lived such lives of darkness.
We have a choice. We can accept the gift we are being offered – or not.
As for Nicodemus, he appears twice more in John’s gospel. First, he speaks up for Jesus – in broad daylight apparently – to the chief priests and his fellow Pharisees. And finally, he appears one more time anointing Jesus’ crucified body and helping Joseph of Arimathea bury Jesus in the tomb.
It seems that Nicodemus was making his way from shadow to light. It seems that he was accepting God’s intervention, accepting the gift given to us in Jesus.
How about us? Will we accept the gift given to us in Jesus?
Amen.
Sunday, March 01, 2009
God's Covenant with Creation
St. John’s Episcopal Church, Dover NJ
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
March 1, 2009
Year B: The First Sunday in Lent
Genesis 9:8-17
Psalm 25:1-9
(1 Peter 3:18-22)
Mark 1:9-15
God’s Covenant with Creation
Well, we’re already five days into this holy season of Lent. I wonder how’s your Lent going so far? I don’t know what Ash Wednesday was like here at St. John’s but at Grace Church in Madison attendance was up noticeably from Ash Wednesday last year. Could have been because of the good weather, but I think in these difficult and frightening times many of us are turning back to basics. In these difficult and frightening times many of us are turning back to God.
And Lent is a perfect time to turn back to God, isn’t it? During these forty days the church offers us an extraordinary opportunity to allow God back into our lives; during Lent the church offers us an extraordinary opportunity to repent. But, as I preached at Grace on Ash Wednesday, we need to remember there are two parts of repentance.
First, we need to examine our consciences and apologize to God and to one another for things we have done that we shouldn’t have done – and the things that we should have done but didn’t do.
But, that’s just the beginning. Repentance doesn’t stop there. The second part of repentance is to allow God to change our hearts so that we can become the kind of people that God dreams that we can be – the kind of people that God knows we really are.
If you’re sitting there thinking something like “How in the world am I supposed to do that?” or “That sounds like a lot of work, and I don’t really have the time” or “Repentance sounds kind of scary,” well, you’re right.
Repentance – looking into our hearts and confessing our sins to God and one another is not an easy or painless thing to do.
Repentance – allowing God to change our hearts so that we can be the people God intends us to be is not an easy thing to do.
What’s easy is to just give up and throw in the towel, right?
I’m not going to ask for a show of hands but I wonder how many of us have managed to stick with our Lenten sacrifice? How many of us have battled temptation and lost?
I
don’t know what you’ve “given up” or “taken on” for Lent. But, the odds are that we’ve already faltered and given into temptation. Maybe we ate that delicious piece of chocolate that was just sitting there in the kitchen, so chocolaty, so tempting. Or maybe we decided to take something on for Lent – like a few minutes of prayer each day, getting a better night’s sleep, giving a little more to the church or a local charity – and yet we seem just not to have gotten around to it.
There’s another possibility. Maybe we haven’t gotten around to making some kind of sacrifice or taking something on for Lent and now we’re feeling a little guilty and thinking that it’s too late for us.
Maybe I’m being too pessimistic. Maybe it’s so far so good for us – we have strong will power and have managed to stick with our Lenten sacrifices. We’ve actually taken on what we said we would take on. Yet, there is anxiety because we know from previous experience that we may very well falter in a moment of weakness any day now.
Of course, there’s another possibility. Maybe because we’ve failed in previous Lents, this year we haven’t gotten around to making some kind of sacrifice or taking something on for Lent and now we’re feeling a little guilty and thinking that it’s too late for us.
Well, wherever we are in terms of our faith – no matter what kind of Lent we are having – today’s lessons offer us some very good news.
Our Old Testament lesson gives us the finale of the very familiar story of Noah, the flood and the ark. Whenever this story comes up I always think how strange it is that we often think of it as well-suited for children. I guess it must be because of the animals. But when you really reflect on events in this story, on one level it’s terrifying. What could be more frightening than the idea that God gets so fed up with the sinfulness of world and then floods it?
But this story is also terrifying on a more personal level. The story of the flood is terrifying because of its central truth – as most of us have learned the hard way, our misdeeds can bring great destruction to us and to those around us.
But, maybe the flood story becomes less terrifying when we look at it from the perspective of the people who first wrote it down. They knew perfectly well that our misdeeds can bring great destruction, but they didn’t experience God as wrathful and punishing. They didn’t experience God as the kind of God who would mercilessly kill millions of lives.
Instead, the people who wrote down the flood story experienced God as a God of love and mercy. They experienced God as a God of covenant, not just with human beings but with the whole creation – with (in the words of Genesis) “the birds, the domestic animals, and every animal on earth…”
The people who wrote down the story of the flood understood that covenant between God and creation was made on God’s initiative. There was no negotiation. And if you read the text, there wasn’t even anything that we had to do in return to keep to maintain this agreement, to keep this covenant. God gives us this covenant out of pure love for creation.
And the people who first wrote down the story of the flood understood that God keeps promises and the covenant will last forever. As God says in this passage, “I will remember my covenant that is between me and you and every living creature of all flesh.”
This covenant with Noah and all of creation is very good news for us. No matter what – even when we stumble, when we sin, when do what we shouldn’t do or don’t do what we should do, when we don’t stick with our Lenten sacrifices, when we don’t even bother to make a Lenten sacrifices – no matter what – God still loves what God has made and the covenant between God and creation is still in effect.
Speaking of covenants still in effect, let’s move on to the story of Jesus’ baptism in today’s gospel. Since this is Mark’s version, it is typically straight to the point. Mark begins his gospel, begins his story of Jesus’ life and ministry, right here with the baptism in the River Jordan.
It’s here that Jesus hears the voice of God the Father and realizes who he really is – the beloved of God. The bond between God the Father and the Son is an unbreakable bond.
And the bond that is made between God and us in baptism is also an unbreakable bond. In the words of the prayer book, “The bond which God establishes in Baptism is indissoluble.”
And, as if to make that point, right after the baptism Mark gives us the account of Jesus’ forty days of temptation in the wilderness.
Since Jesus faced real-life temptations during those forty days – as well as before and after, I’m sure – God knows precisely what it’s like for us to face temptations in our lives – not in an abstract or spiritual way, but as a flesh and blood human being.
Of course, unlike Jesus, we all too often give into temptation. We all have room for improvement in that department – and with God’s help we can improve.
But, when we inevitably stumble and fall we know that God’s covenant with us remains as strong as ever. We know that no matter what we do or don’t do, God’s love for us remains as strong as ever.
So, Lent is now well underway. We have been given this great gift from God and the Church to look inside ourselves and to say we’re sorry for the things we shouldn’t have done as well as the things we should have done but didn’t. We have this opportunity to allow God to change our hearts so that we can become the kind of people that God dreams that we can be – the kind of people that God knows we really are.
And when we stumble, when we miss the mark, when we sin, we know that God has made an unbreakable covenant with us. We know that God has made an indissoluble bond with us.
And that is very good news.
Amen.
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
March 1, 2009
Year B: The First Sunday in Lent
Genesis 9:8-17
Psalm 25:1-9
(1 Peter 3:18-22)
Mark 1:9-15
God’s Covenant with Creation
Well, we’re already five days into this holy season of Lent. I wonder how’s your Lent going so far? I don’t know what Ash Wednesday was like here at St. John’s but at Grace Church in Madison attendance was up noticeably from Ash Wednesday last year. Could have been because of the good weather, but I think in these difficult and frightening times many of us are turning back to basics. In these difficult and frightening times many of us are turning back to God.
And Lent is a perfect time to turn back to God, isn’t it? During these forty days the church offers us an extraordinary opportunity to allow God back into our lives; during Lent the church offers us an extraordinary opportunity to repent. But, as I preached at Grace on Ash Wednesday, we need to remember there are two parts of repentance.
First, we need to examine our consciences and apologize to God and to one another for things we have done that we shouldn’t have done – and the things that we should have done but didn’t do.
But, that’s just the beginning. Repentance doesn’t stop there. The second part of repentance is to allow God to change our hearts so that we can become the kind of people that God dreams that we can be – the kind of people that God knows we really are.
If you’re sitting there thinking something like “How in the world am I supposed to do that?” or “That sounds like a lot of work, and I don’t really have the time” or “Repentance sounds kind of scary,” well, you’re right.
Repentance – looking into our hearts and confessing our sins to God and one another is not an easy or painless thing to do.
Repentance – allowing God to change our hearts so that we can be the people God intends us to be is not an easy thing to do.
What’s easy is to just give up and throw in the towel, right?
I’m not going to ask for a show of hands but I wonder how many of us have managed to stick with our Lenten sacrifice? How many of us have battled temptation and lost?
I
don’t know what you’ve “given up” or “taken on” for Lent. But, the odds are that we’ve already faltered and given into temptation. Maybe we ate that delicious piece of chocolate that was just sitting there in the kitchen, so chocolaty, so tempting. Or maybe we decided to take something on for Lent – like a few minutes of prayer each day, getting a better night’s sleep, giving a little more to the church or a local charity – and yet we seem just not to have gotten around to it.
There’s another possibility. Maybe we haven’t gotten around to making some kind of sacrifice or taking something on for Lent and now we’re feeling a little guilty and thinking that it’s too late for us.
Maybe I’m being too pessimistic. Maybe it’s so far so good for us – we have strong will power and have managed to stick with our Lenten sacrifices. We’ve actually taken on what we said we would take on. Yet, there is anxiety because we know from previous experience that we may very well falter in a moment of weakness any day now.
Of course, there’s another possibility. Maybe because we’ve failed in previous Lents, this year we haven’t gotten around to making some kind of sacrifice or taking something on for Lent and now we’re feeling a little guilty and thinking that it’s too late for us.
Well, wherever we are in terms of our faith – no matter what kind of Lent we are having – today’s lessons offer us some very good news.
Our Old Testament lesson gives us the finale of the very familiar story of Noah, the flood and the ark. Whenever this story comes up I always think how strange it is that we often think of it as well-suited for children. I guess it must be because of the animals. But when you really reflect on events in this story, on one level it’s terrifying. What could be more frightening than the idea that God gets so fed up with the sinfulness of world and then floods it?
But this story is also terrifying on a more personal level. The story of the flood is terrifying because of its central truth – as most of us have learned the hard way, our misdeeds can bring great destruction to us and to those around us.
But, maybe the flood story becomes less terrifying when we look at it from the perspective of the people who first wrote it down. They knew perfectly well that our misdeeds can bring great destruction, but they didn’t experience God as wrathful and punishing. They didn’t experience God as the kind of God who would mercilessly kill millions of lives.
Instead, the people who wrote down the flood story experienced God as a God of love and mercy. They experienced God as a God of covenant, not just with human beings but with the whole creation – with (in the words of Genesis) “the birds, the domestic animals, and every animal on earth…”
The people who wrote down the story of the flood understood that covenant between God and creation was made on God’s initiative. There was no negotiation. And if you read the text, there wasn’t even anything that we had to do in return to keep to maintain this agreement, to keep this covenant. God gives us this covenant out of pure love for creation.
And the people who first wrote down the story of the flood understood that God keeps promises and the covenant will last forever. As God says in this passage, “I will remember my covenant that is between me and you and every living creature of all flesh.”
This covenant with Noah and all of creation is very good news for us. No matter what – even when we stumble, when we sin, when do what we shouldn’t do or don’t do what we should do, when we don’t stick with our Lenten sacrifices, when we don’t even bother to make a Lenten sacrifices – no matter what – God still loves what God has made and the covenant between God and creation is still in effect.
Speaking of covenants still in effect, let’s move on to the story of Jesus’ baptism in today’s gospel. Since this is Mark’s version, it is typically straight to the point. Mark begins his gospel, begins his story of Jesus’ life and ministry, right here with the baptism in the River Jordan.
It’s here that Jesus hears the voice of God the Father and realizes who he really is – the beloved of God. The bond between God the Father and the Son is an unbreakable bond.
And the bond that is made between God and us in baptism is also an unbreakable bond. In the words of the prayer book, “The bond which God establishes in Baptism is indissoluble.”
And, as if to make that point, right after the baptism Mark gives us the account of Jesus’ forty days of temptation in the wilderness.
Since Jesus faced real-life temptations during those forty days – as well as before and after, I’m sure – God knows precisely what it’s like for us to face temptations in our lives – not in an abstract or spiritual way, but as a flesh and blood human being.
Of course, unlike Jesus, we all too often give into temptation. We all have room for improvement in that department – and with God’s help we can improve.
But, when we inevitably stumble and fall we know that God’s covenant with us remains as strong as ever. We know that no matter what we do or don’t do, God’s love for us remains as strong as ever.
So, Lent is now well underway. We have been given this great gift from God and the Church to look inside ourselves and to say we’re sorry for the things we shouldn’t have done as well as the things we should have done but didn’t. We have this opportunity to allow God to change our hearts so that we can become the kind of people that God dreams that we can be – the kind of people that God knows we really are.
And when we stumble, when we miss the mark, when we sin, we know that God has made an unbreakable covenant with us. We know that God has made an indissoluble bond with us.
And that is very good news.
Amen.
Just Neighbors
The Messenger
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
March 2009
Just Neighbors
Over the past few months many of us have become increasingly aware of the poverty that exists here in our communities. Those of us who receive the daily email updates from Kit Cone about the work of the Recycling Ministry learn about the often desperate straits of our neighbors living in places such as Morristown, Dover, and sometimes even in Madison. It is deeply touching and also very disturbing to read about people who are moved to tears by the gift of a simple kitchen table or a modest supermarket gift card.
Many of us were astonished when we learned that the Community Soup Kitchen in Morristown is now regularly hosting over 300 guests a day. That shocking statistic - plus the amazing incentive of a $1000 matching grant from an anonymous foundation - clearly inspired the Grace Church community on “Souper Bowl” Sunday to open up its wallets and checkbooks and donate nearly $3000 to the soup kitchen – money that we know will be put to good use by this remarkable ministry.
Thanks to the leadership and organizational skill of Marge Paul, our February day at the soup kitchen was a great success. Bill Foster led us off with a powerful prayer reminding me of the 17th Century French saint Vincent de Paul who insisted that serving the poor was our highest privilege. Thankfully, more than enough food was donated and Marge actually had to turn away volunteers! As expected, we fed somewhere around 300 hungry and cold guests. Judging by their unfamiliarity with the ways of the soup kitchen, a fair number were first-time guests of the soup kitchen.
As I doled out plate after plate of salad, I noticed that this large room, filled with a couple of hundred people waiting, eating and serving, was remarkably quiet. The atmosphere was markedly solemn. I also could not help but notice that the vast majority of guests were men. There were only a handful of women, including one who brought her baby in a stroller. As I thought about that, I remembered reading how in the Great Depression the poverty of women and children was largely hidden from public view because they would be at home while the men went out each day looking for work or at least to gather some food for the family.
As Christians, we are called to uncover the hidden poverty in our midst. As Christians we have the privilege and the responsibility to love our neighbors as ourselves and especially to serve the poor. Grace Church offers many opportunities to live out our baptismal promises to seek and serve Christ in all persons and to strive for justice and peace among all people, respecting the dignity of every human being. The Food for Friends canister is always standing by to receive your donations. New volunteers are welcome to help at the soup kitchen. Kit could always use help with Recycling Ministry’s work of picking up donations or delivering items to clients. Or, maybe you can think of a new ministry that can help us serve those in need!
This Lent we are introducing a new program to help us better know and serve our neighbors. During an adult seminar in January, some of us were introduced to the Just Neighbors program. Based on the positive feedback we received, we will offer the Just Neighbors program each Wednesday evening in Lent, beginning March 4, from 7:30 pm to 8:30 pm in Grace Hall. Everyone is invited and encouraged to attend some or all of the sessions. Here is a description of the program from the facilitator’s manual:
Just Neighbors is a way to help your congregation follow one of scripture’s most basic teachings: to love your neighbor as yourself.
It is an interactive multimedia curriculum, an engaging and inspiring educational experience. Its purpose is to help your congregation assist and advocate for their neighbors who are living in poverty.
In a complex, mobile, and busy world, we may not know our neighbors very well. We may not know the difficulties that some of them face. We may not know how to help.
Just Neighbors introduces congregations to some of their neighbors who are in need. It offers insight into their daily struggles. It points the way to greater understanding – not only of problems but of solutions. It inspires people of faith to act on what they’ve learned.
This Lent let us thank God for the privilege of serving our neighbors. And let’s get to work!
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
March 2009
Just Neighbors
Over the past few months many of us have become increasingly aware of the poverty that exists here in our communities. Those of us who receive the daily email updates from Kit Cone about the work of the Recycling Ministry learn about the often desperate straits of our neighbors living in places such as Morristown, Dover, and sometimes even in Madison. It is deeply touching and also very disturbing to read about people who are moved to tears by the gift of a simple kitchen table or a modest supermarket gift card.
Many of us were astonished when we learned that the Community Soup Kitchen in Morristown is now regularly hosting over 300 guests a day. That shocking statistic - plus the amazing incentive of a $1000 matching grant from an anonymous foundation - clearly inspired the Grace Church community on “Souper Bowl” Sunday to open up its wallets and checkbooks and donate nearly $3000 to the soup kitchen – money that we know will be put to good use by this remarkable ministry.
Thanks to the leadership and organizational skill of Marge Paul, our February day at the soup kitchen was a great success. Bill Foster led us off with a powerful prayer reminding me of the 17th Century French saint Vincent de Paul who insisted that serving the poor was our highest privilege. Thankfully, more than enough food was donated and Marge actually had to turn away volunteers! As expected, we fed somewhere around 300 hungry and cold guests. Judging by their unfamiliarity with the ways of the soup kitchen, a fair number were first-time guests of the soup kitchen.
As I doled out plate after plate of salad, I noticed that this large room, filled with a couple of hundred people waiting, eating and serving, was remarkably quiet. The atmosphere was markedly solemn. I also could not help but notice that the vast majority of guests were men. There were only a handful of women, including one who brought her baby in a stroller. As I thought about that, I remembered reading how in the Great Depression the poverty of women and children was largely hidden from public view because they would be at home while the men went out each day looking for work or at least to gather some food for the family.
As Christians, we are called to uncover the hidden poverty in our midst. As Christians we have the privilege and the responsibility to love our neighbors as ourselves and especially to serve the poor. Grace Church offers many opportunities to live out our baptismal promises to seek and serve Christ in all persons and to strive for justice and peace among all people, respecting the dignity of every human being. The Food for Friends canister is always standing by to receive your donations. New volunteers are welcome to help at the soup kitchen. Kit could always use help with Recycling Ministry’s work of picking up donations or delivering items to clients. Or, maybe you can think of a new ministry that can help us serve those in need!
This Lent we are introducing a new program to help us better know and serve our neighbors. During an adult seminar in January, some of us were introduced to the Just Neighbors program. Based on the positive feedback we received, we will offer the Just Neighbors program each Wednesday evening in Lent, beginning March 4, from 7:30 pm to 8:30 pm in Grace Hall. Everyone is invited and encouraged to attend some or all of the sessions. Here is a description of the program from the facilitator’s manual:
Just Neighbors is a way to help your congregation follow one of scripture’s most basic teachings: to love your neighbor as yourself.
It is an interactive multimedia curriculum, an engaging and inspiring educational experience. Its purpose is to help your congregation assist and advocate for their neighbors who are living in poverty.
In a complex, mobile, and busy world, we may not know our neighbors very well. We may not know the difficulties that some of them face. We may not know how to help.
Just Neighbors introduces congregations to some of their neighbors who are in need. It offers insight into their daily struggles. It points the way to greater understanding – not only of problems but of solutions. It inspires people of faith to act on what they’ve learned.
This Lent let us thank God for the privilege of serving our neighbors. And let’s get to work!
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Transfiguration: An Intermission
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
February 22, 2009
Year B: The Last Sunday after the Epiphany
2 Kings 2:1-12
Psalm 50:1-6
(2 Corinthians 4:3-6)
Mark 9:2-9
Transfiguration: An Intermission
Today’s the last Sunday of Epiphany – a season of alleluias that began with the visit of the wise men to the baby Jesus. Now Epiphany draws to a spectacular close with the mountaintop transfiguration of Jesus. The disciples Peter, James and John look on with wonder as the power and identity of Jesus is made manifest with the appearance of Moses and Elijah.
And, if you’ve been around these past few weeks, you know that throughout the Epiphany season we’ve recalled all sorts of manifestations of Jesus’ power and identity.
Each Sunday we’ve been making our way through the right-to-the-point Gospel of Mark, hearing about epiphany after epiphany. For Mark, Jesus’ ministry begins with his baptism by John in the River Jordan. And it’s at his baptism that Jesus has his own private epiphany when he realizes who he is and what he is called to do. Remember as Jesus came up out of the water Mark tells us that Jesus alone hears the voice of God say, “You are my Son, the Beloved, with you I am well pleased.”
It would be fair to describe the Gospel of Mark as a two-act drama and Jesus’ baptism, when the voice of God telling Jesus who he is, signals the beginning of Act One.
Mark then quickly moves through epiphany after epiphany, manifestation after manifestation, of Jesus’ power and identity.
Jesus teaches at the synagogue in Capernaum like no one has ever taught before. Jesus casts out demons, heals the sick, including Peter’s mother-in-law. Last week we heard about the manifestation of Jesus’ power and mercy in the healing of the man with leprosy.
There’s more to Act One of Mark’s gospel that we haven’t heard in church, but the bottom line is that Mark presents epiphany after epiphany, manifestation after manifestation of Jesus’ identity and power.
But in a lot of ways, although news about Jesus gets around, Act One of Mark’s Gospel is about the private – even secret - ministry of Jesus. In Mark’s gospel Jesus goes to great lengths to keep a low profile – warning both his disciples as well as unclean spirits not to say a word about what they have seen him do and what they have heard him say.
Well, today, with the story of the Transfiguration, we come to the end of Act One of Mark’s Gospel. We come to the end of the quieter, more private, secretive stage of Jesus’ ministry.
Act Two of Mark’s gospel will bring Jesus down from the mountain of Transfiguration and on to Jerusalem and ultimately to the Cross.
In Mark’s Gospel, the Transfiguration is… the intermission.
At this intermission Epiphany comes to an end, we reach the conclusion of Act One, our alleluias are silenced and the road to the Cross – Lent – is about to begin.
But before we get to Lent, during this intermission in Mark’s gospel and this intermission in the church year, we are offered the remarkable, mysterious, supernatural story of the Transfiguration. The Transfiguration is an intermission for Jesus and for the three disciples who witness this amazing event.
Try to imagine the scene. Peter, James and John – who seem to have been Jesus’ inner circle - are there on the mountain with Jesus.
We often give Peter a hard time – and the gospels often do set him up as the one who most often doesn’t seem to quite get it. But I’m amazed that Peter was actually able to speak after seeing Jesus transfigured, transformed, before his eyes. And on top of that Peter is able to speak after seeing Moses and Elijah!
And it’s no accident that it’s Moses and Elijah who appear beside Jesus. Moses represents the Law and Elijah represents the prophets – and Jesus is the fulfillment of both the Law and the Prophets.
On top of that, as we heard in the reading from Second Kings, Elijah had a powerful, mysterious assumption into heaven. And in the case of Moses, by the First Century there was a widespread belief that the sort of the same thing had happened to Moses – that he had also been assumed into heaven.
Anyway, Peter witnesses all of this and yet still manages to put together a few words: “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.”
Peter recognizes the Transfiguration as an intermission from ordinary life. Peter recognizes the Transfiguration as literally and figuratively a mountaintop experience. And, naturally, he wants to hold on to this amazing intermission, this wonderful mountaintop experience for as long as he can.
I hope that over the course of our lives all of us from time to time have had intermissions from ordinary life – that occasionally we enjoy mountaintop experiences. They are probably not quite as dramatic as the Transfiguration, but nevertheless we can probably sympathize with Peter’s desire to hold on to the experience for as long as he can.
Our intermissions from the ordinary, our mountaintop experiences, might be the birth of a child or a grandchild. They might be falling in love or receiving a wonderful compliment. Our intermissions might be the pleasure of doing a job well or acing a test or hearing a beautiful piece of music. Our mountaintop experiences might be the joy of helping a person in need or reconnecting with an old friend.
These intermissions from the ordinary, our mountaintop experiences, are great gifts from God – giving us the strength and inspiration to carry on through the difficult and painful and sometimes just boring parts of life.
Reflecting on this idea of intermissions from the ordinary, I remembered several of my own mountaintop experiences.
I remembered the first Sunday Sue and I went to St. Paul’s Church in Jersey City – thanks to the recommendation of a colleague of mine. I remember being impressed by the beauty of the church, the good music, the diverse congregation, the intelligent preaching and the warm welcome from the congregation. Sue and I had never experienced an exchange of the peace where people came out into the aisles and seemed genuinely happy to see one another. And I can still see the rector come down the aisle to us in his blue Advent chasuble, stretch out his hand and say, “I’m Dave Hamilton. Welcome to St. Paul’s.” And we wondered what’s this coffee hour everyone’s talking about? People at this church actually want to spend time together?
For me that first Sunday at St. Paul’s was an intermission from the ordinary, a mountaintop experience right there in Jersey City! I remember walking back from church that day thinking, this is it – this is what I’ve been looking for all along.
And the memory of that intermission, that mountaintop experience, continues to sustain me through the difficult days.
Another intermission, this one actually on a mountain – or, at least a cliff: last summer at the start of the J2A pilgrimage to California, after we left the airport we picked up lunch and drove to a park overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge and San Francisco Bay. It was a bright sunny day and it all looked so beautiful. And I remember thinking, here I am with these great kids and Chris and Ruth - this is amazing – this is my job - how did I luck out and get to spend my life like this?
And the memory of that intermission, that mountaintop experience, continues to sustain me.
One more story of intermission, of a mountaintop experience. A few years ago I regularly visited a woman in the hospital who was quite ill with cancer. When I first stopped by one of her adult daughters was also in the room. I introduced myself and we began to talk. As is so often the case in situations like that, it was if she had been waiting her whole life for someone to ask her to tell her story.
Her story was not particularly unusual. It was a story of lots of hard work and raising children and grand-children. It was a story of utter selflessness.
And then finally she reached the point in her story when all of her children and grandchildren were out of the house and she didn’t have to take care of anyone else but herself. She told me how every day she would go to the park, walk around the pond and sit and read.
She called that time her “freedom days.”
But, maybe not surprisingly, all too soon a grandchild moved back in with her. She looked right at me and said, “And then my freedom days were over.”
What struck me was how she told her story. She was so eloquent and so vivid in her descriptions. Her story was so well-crafted. After I let it all sink in, I said that it almost sounded like I had just listened to something that had been written down – it sounded like a great short story or a memoir.
She and her daughter both gave each other a strange look. And then this seemingly ordinary woman told me that for years she had been keeping journals, day after day describing her life. There were boxes and boxes of journals piled in closets in her house. During her “freedom days” in the park she would spend hours writing in her journals.
That day in the hospital she described to me an amazing intermission in her life, the amazing mountaintop experience of her “freedom days.” It was clear that this intermission had sustained her ever since, even as she faced grave illness.
And for me also it was an intermission, a mountaintop experience – and continues to sustain me even now. That experience reminds me that people are capable of great beauty, richness and depth – and that you never know what’s just beneath the surface of seemingly ordinary people.
Today our alleluias ring out one last time as we celebrate the intermission, the mountaintop experience of the Transfiguration.
Just as at Jesus’ baptism, once again God declares Jesus “my Son, my Beloved.” But this time, it’s not just Jesus who hears the voice. Act Two of Mark’s gospel, the more public ministry of Jesus that leads to the Cross is about to begin.
But, let’s not go there just yet. Lent doesn’t start until Wednesday.
For now, let’s stay with Peter during this intermission, this mountaintop experience. Let’s remember and give thanks for the intermissions of our lives, for our mountaintop experiences.
And with Peter, let us say, “…it is good for us to be here.”
Amen.
February 22, 2009
Year B: The Last Sunday after the Epiphany
2 Kings 2:1-12
Psalm 50:1-6
(2 Corinthians 4:3-6)
Mark 9:2-9
Transfiguration: An Intermission
Today’s the last Sunday of Epiphany – a season of alleluias that began with the visit of the wise men to the baby Jesus. Now Epiphany draws to a spectacular close with the mountaintop transfiguration of Jesus. The disciples Peter, James and John look on with wonder as the power and identity of Jesus is made manifest with the appearance of Moses and Elijah.
And, if you’ve been around these past few weeks, you know that throughout the Epiphany season we’ve recalled all sorts of manifestations of Jesus’ power and identity.
Each Sunday we’ve been making our way through the right-to-the-point Gospel of Mark, hearing about epiphany after epiphany. For Mark, Jesus’ ministry begins with his baptism by John in the River Jordan. And it’s at his baptism that Jesus has his own private epiphany when he realizes who he is and what he is called to do. Remember as Jesus came up out of the water Mark tells us that Jesus alone hears the voice of God say, “You are my Son, the Beloved, with you I am well pleased.”
It would be fair to describe the Gospel of Mark as a two-act drama and Jesus’ baptism, when the voice of God telling Jesus who he is, signals the beginning of Act One.
Mark then quickly moves through epiphany after epiphany, manifestation after manifestation, of Jesus’ power and identity.
Jesus teaches at the synagogue in Capernaum like no one has ever taught before. Jesus casts out demons, heals the sick, including Peter’s mother-in-law. Last week we heard about the manifestation of Jesus’ power and mercy in the healing of the man with leprosy.
There’s more to Act One of Mark’s gospel that we haven’t heard in church, but the bottom line is that Mark presents epiphany after epiphany, manifestation after manifestation of Jesus’ identity and power.
But in a lot of ways, although news about Jesus gets around, Act One of Mark’s Gospel is about the private – even secret - ministry of Jesus. In Mark’s gospel Jesus goes to great lengths to keep a low profile – warning both his disciples as well as unclean spirits not to say a word about what they have seen him do and what they have heard him say.
Well, today, with the story of the Transfiguration, we come to the end of Act One of Mark’s Gospel. We come to the end of the quieter, more private, secretive stage of Jesus’ ministry.
Act Two of Mark’s gospel will bring Jesus down from the mountain of Transfiguration and on to Jerusalem and ultimately to the Cross.
In Mark’s Gospel, the Transfiguration is… the intermission.
At this intermission Epiphany comes to an end, we reach the conclusion of Act One, our alleluias are silenced and the road to the Cross – Lent – is about to begin.
But before we get to Lent, during this intermission in Mark’s gospel and this intermission in the church year, we are offered the remarkable, mysterious, supernatural story of the Transfiguration. The Transfiguration is an intermission for Jesus and for the three disciples who witness this amazing event.
Try to imagine the scene. Peter, James and John – who seem to have been Jesus’ inner circle - are there on the mountain with Jesus.
We often give Peter a hard time – and the gospels often do set him up as the one who most often doesn’t seem to quite get it. But I’m amazed that Peter was actually able to speak after seeing Jesus transfigured, transformed, before his eyes. And on top of that Peter is able to speak after seeing Moses and Elijah!
And it’s no accident that it’s Moses and Elijah who appear beside Jesus. Moses represents the Law and Elijah represents the prophets – and Jesus is the fulfillment of both the Law and the Prophets.
On top of that, as we heard in the reading from Second Kings, Elijah had a powerful, mysterious assumption into heaven. And in the case of Moses, by the First Century there was a widespread belief that the sort of the same thing had happened to Moses – that he had also been assumed into heaven.
Anyway, Peter witnesses all of this and yet still manages to put together a few words: “Rabbi, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.”
Peter recognizes the Transfiguration as an intermission from ordinary life. Peter recognizes the Transfiguration as literally and figuratively a mountaintop experience. And, naturally, he wants to hold on to this amazing intermission, this wonderful mountaintop experience for as long as he can.
I hope that over the course of our lives all of us from time to time have had intermissions from ordinary life – that occasionally we enjoy mountaintop experiences. They are probably not quite as dramatic as the Transfiguration, but nevertheless we can probably sympathize with Peter’s desire to hold on to the experience for as long as he can.
Our intermissions from the ordinary, our mountaintop experiences, might be the birth of a child or a grandchild. They might be falling in love or receiving a wonderful compliment. Our intermissions might be the pleasure of doing a job well or acing a test or hearing a beautiful piece of music. Our mountaintop experiences might be the joy of helping a person in need or reconnecting with an old friend.
These intermissions from the ordinary, our mountaintop experiences, are great gifts from God – giving us the strength and inspiration to carry on through the difficult and painful and sometimes just boring parts of life.
Reflecting on this idea of intermissions from the ordinary, I remembered several of my own mountaintop experiences.
I remembered the first Sunday Sue and I went to St. Paul’s Church in Jersey City – thanks to the recommendation of a colleague of mine. I remember being impressed by the beauty of the church, the good music, the diverse congregation, the intelligent preaching and the warm welcome from the congregation. Sue and I had never experienced an exchange of the peace where people came out into the aisles and seemed genuinely happy to see one another. And I can still see the rector come down the aisle to us in his blue Advent chasuble, stretch out his hand and say, “I’m Dave Hamilton. Welcome to St. Paul’s.” And we wondered what’s this coffee hour everyone’s talking about? People at this church actually want to spend time together?
For me that first Sunday at St. Paul’s was an intermission from the ordinary, a mountaintop experience right there in Jersey City! I remember walking back from church that day thinking, this is it – this is what I’ve been looking for all along.
And the memory of that intermission, that mountaintop experience, continues to sustain me through the difficult days.
Another intermission, this one actually on a mountain – or, at least a cliff: last summer at the start of the J2A pilgrimage to California, after we left the airport we picked up lunch and drove to a park overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge and San Francisco Bay. It was a bright sunny day and it all looked so beautiful. And I remember thinking, here I am with these great kids and Chris and Ruth - this is amazing – this is my job - how did I luck out and get to spend my life like this?
And the memory of that intermission, that mountaintop experience, continues to sustain me.
One more story of intermission, of a mountaintop experience. A few years ago I regularly visited a woman in the hospital who was quite ill with cancer. When I first stopped by one of her adult daughters was also in the room. I introduced myself and we began to talk. As is so often the case in situations like that, it was if she had been waiting her whole life for someone to ask her to tell her story.
Her story was not particularly unusual. It was a story of lots of hard work and raising children and grand-children. It was a story of utter selflessness.
And then finally she reached the point in her story when all of her children and grandchildren were out of the house and she didn’t have to take care of anyone else but herself. She told me how every day she would go to the park, walk around the pond and sit and read.
She called that time her “freedom days.”
But, maybe not surprisingly, all too soon a grandchild moved back in with her. She looked right at me and said, “And then my freedom days were over.”
What struck me was how she told her story. She was so eloquent and so vivid in her descriptions. Her story was so well-crafted. After I let it all sink in, I said that it almost sounded like I had just listened to something that had been written down – it sounded like a great short story or a memoir.
She and her daughter both gave each other a strange look. And then this seemingly ordinary woman told me that for years she had been keeping journals, day after day describing her life. There were boxes and boxes of journals piled in closets in her house. During her “freedom days” in the park she would spend hours writing in her journals.
That day in the hospital she described to me an amazing intermission in her life, the amazing mountaintop experience of her “freedom days.” It was clear that this intermission had sustained her ever since, even as she faced grave illness.
And for me also it was an intermission, a mountaintop experience – and continues to sustain me even now. That experience reminds me that people are capable of great beauty, richness and depth – and that you never know what’s just beneath the surface of seemingly ordinary people.
Today our alleluias ring out one last time as we celebrate the intermission, the mountaintop experience of the Transfiguration.
Just as at Jesus’ baptism, once again God declares Jesus “my Son, my Beloved.” But this time, it’s not just Jesus who hears the voice. Act Two of Mark’s gospel, the more public ministry of Jesus that leads to the Cross is about to begin.
But, let’s not go there just yet. Lent doesn’t start until Wednesday.
For now, let’s stay with Peter during this intermission, this mountaintop experience. Let’s remember and give thanks for the intermissions of our lives, for our mountaintop experiences.
And with Peter, let us say, “…it is good for us to be here.”
Amen.
Sunday, February 01, 2009
The Bad News is Not the Only News
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
February 1, 2009
Year B: The Fourth Sunday after Epiphany
Deuteronomy 18:15-20
Psalm 111
(1 Corinthians 8:1-13)
Mark 1:21-28
The Bad News is Not the Only News
I’m sure many of you know that the writer John Updike died this week. Over his long career Updike produced a tremendous amount of all kinds of writing, and although it might not have always been obvious, religious faith, or the loss of faith, was one of his main themes.
This week I was rereading some of his work and I was struck by something he once said in a speech. He noted that unlike people without faith we Christians can face the hard truths of life head on. We can face the sadness, fear and disappointments of life. We don’t have to sugarcoat the painful parts of life. Updike said that for us Christians, “The bad news can be told full out, for it is not the only news.”
“The bad news can be told full out, for it is not the only news.”
Now, the Gospel of Mark is all about the good news - the Good News of Jesus Christ, and in today’s lesson Mark presents us with quite a scene, doesn’t he? I’m guessing what we just heard was not a typical Sabbath service at the synagogue in Capernaum! In this account Mark the Evangelist, typically, gets right to the point. On the Sabbath, Jesus and his disciples show up at the synagogue in the seaside town of Capernaum and the people are “astounded by his teaching, for he taught them as one with authority.”
Mark doesn’t actually tell us the content of Jesus’ teaching – just that the assembly was very impressed.
Then Jesus is challenged by the man with the “unclean spirit” and the people are amazed when the “unclean spirit” obeys and departs this poor, unnamed man.
The people cry out, “What is this? A new teaching – with authority! He commands even the unclean spirits, and they obey him!”
If you come back next week you’ll hear that in fact Jesus is just getting started on this Sabbath day. Later in the day Jesus heals Simon’s mother-in-law and as the word spreads about his power Mark tells us that the whole town of Capernaum will gather around him.
So here’s Jesus is displaying all this power - and we’re still in only the first chapter of Mark’s Gospel.
You may remember just a couple of weeks ago we heard the very beginning of Mark’s gospel – the baptism of Jesus. Next Jesus faced forty days of temptation in the wilderness. And finally, last week, Jesus began to gather his disciples – calling Simon and Andrew and James and John. In Mark’s telling, Jesus simply says to these fishermen, “Follow me,” and they drop everything, changing the course of their lives forever.
In these quick, economical verses Mark tells us nothing about Jesus’ background or the content of Jesus’ teaching.
In these quick, economical verses Mark is making one big point: Jesus is powerful.
Mark doesn’t present a meek and mild Jesus. Mark presents Jesus receiving his power at his baptism in the River Jordan. Mark presents Jesus as a powerful person who withstood forty days of temptation in the wilderness. Mark presents Jesus as a powerful person who calls on others to change their lives – and they really do change their lives. Mark presents Jesus as a powerful person who teaches like no one else has ever taught before and who is able to defeat the evil forces of this world.
Mark is clear: Jesus is powerful.
In our Old Testament lesson from Deuteronomy, we heard Moses predict that God would raise up a prophet like him and the people should listen to him.
Mark understands that, in Jesus, God has done that and much more. Jesus is more than a prophet. Jesus is what Mark here calls the “Holy One of God” – a special title, used only three times in the whole New Testament.
Jesus is powerful.
Jesus is powerful because his will, his whole life, is perfectly aligned with God the Father. Jesus does the will of God the Father and so he resists forty days of temptation. Jesus does the will of God the Father and so people stop what they are doing and change the course of their lives. Jesus does the will of God the Father and so he teaches with an authority unlike any known before and is able to drive away the unclean spirits.
Jesus is powerful because his life is perfectly aligned with God the Father.
And since we are the Body of Christ in the world, then if our lives are aligned with God’s will, then we are powerful, too.
But, I wonder how many of us actually believe that? How many of us believe that if our lives are aligned with God’s will then we will have great power?
Last week, Lauren and I were at the institution of the new rector at Christ Church in Short Hills. The bishop preached an excellent sermon in which he reminded us of the term “functional atheism.” Anyone heard of this before?
“Functional atheism” was coined by the Quaker author and educator Parker Palmer. A “functional atheist” is someone who says they believe in God but lives like God doesn’t exist.
Sometimes “functional atheism” can play itself out as thinking that we can do everything on our own – that we don’t need or want God’s help.
“Functional atheism” can also play itself out as coming to church, saying all the “right” words, but living as if God has no power at all, as if God does not exist. “Functional atheism” can mean that we live as if we – the Body of Christ in the world – have no power at all. “Functional atheism” can mean that in our hearts we believe there is no good news at all.
In his sermon, the bishop said he was preaching as much to himself as he was to us – and, to be honest, the same is true for me.
Many of us – including me - are concerned about the economy. But in my particular case, “functional atheism” plays out in my anxiety about the Church. I’m not anxious at all about Grace Church – which in a lot of ways is an oasis – but I do worry about our diocese and the larger church, as attendance declines and finances are depleted.
And this “functional atheist” wonders, what’s my future in the church? How many churches will be able to afford a full-time priest? How will I earn a living?
I bet although the details of your functional atheism are different, the essence remains the same – the denial that God has any real power – the belief that it’s either all up to us or the belief that we’re helpless in the face of far greater powers.
But, as Christians we should know better. Just as Jesus faced the man possessed by the unclean spirit you and I can face the unclean spirits of our time and place, the unclean spirits of fear, anxiety, greed and selfishness.
Jesus, whose will was aligned with the Father’s will, was able to cast out unclean spirits. And if our wills are aligned with God’s will then we too can cast out the “unclean spirits” of our own time and place.
And we don’t have to look very far to see the casting out of unclean spirits all around us – when our wills are aligned with God’s will.
We saw it a few weeks ago when over a thousand people came out for the bone marrow donor drive for Kelli Wynne. Wasn’t that a powerful example of casting out the unclean spirits of fear and anxiety?
I saw it last week when a parishioner called and said he sits on the board of a foundation that will match our “Souper Bowl” donation if we reach $1000. And, by the way, I have every confidence that we will exceed $1000. Aren’t these powerful examples of casting out the unclean spirits of greed and selfishness?
As Christians we can face the unclean spirits of our time and place and not give in to despair. As Updike says of us Christians, “The bad news can be told full out, for it is not the only news.”
The bad news is not the only news - the good news is the power of Jesus and the good news is the power that we have together when our wills are aligned with God’s will.
Long ago Jesus had quite a day in the synagogue in Capernaum. Because his will was perfectly aligned with the will of God the Father, Jesus was capable of teaching with great authority and casting out unclean spirits.
If our will is aligned with God’s will, then we – the Body of Christ – on earth are also capable of great power. We too can cast aside our functional atheism and cast out the unclean spirits of our time and place.
All of this is possible because we know the bad news is not the only news.
Amen.
February 1, 2009
Year B: The Fourth Sunday after Epiphany
Deuteronomy 18:15-20
Psalm 111
(1 Corinthians 8:1-13)
Mark 1:21-28
The Bad News is Not the Only News
I’m sure many of you know that the writer John Updike died this week. Over his long career Updike produced a tremendous amount of all kinds of writing, and although it might not have always been obvious, religious faith, or the loss of faith, was one of his main themes.
This week I was rereading some of his work and I was struck by something he once said in a speech. He noted that unlike people without faith we Christians can face the hard truths of life head on. We can face the sadness, fear and disappointments of life. We don’t have to sugarcoat the painful parts of life. Updike said that for us Christians, “The bad news can be told full out, for it is not the only news.”
“The bad news can be told full out, for it is not the only news.”
Now, the Gospel of Mark is all about the good news - the Good News of Jesus Christ, and in today’s lesson Mark presents us with quite a scene, doesn’t he? I’m guessing what we just heard was not a typical Sabbath service at the synagogue in Capernaum! In this account Mark the Evangelist, typically, gets right to the point. On the Sabbath, Jesus and his disciples show up at the synagogue in the seaside town of Capernaum and the people are “astounded by his teaching, for he taught them as one with authority.”
Mark doesn’t actually tell us the content of Jesus’ teaching – just that the assembly was very impressed.
Then Jesus is challenged by the man with the “unclean spirit” and the people are amazed when the “unclean spirit” obeys and departs this poor, unnamed man.
The people cry out, “What is this? A new teaching – with authority! He commands even the unclean spirits, and they obey him!”
If you come back next week you’ll hear that in fact Jesus is just getting started on this Sabbath day. Later in the day Jesus heals Simon’s mother-in-law and as the word spreads about his power Mark tells us that the whole town of Capernaum will gather around him.
So here’s Jesus is displaying all this power - and we’re still in only the first chapter of Mark’s Gospel.
You may remember just a couple of weeks ago we heard the very beginning of Mark’s gospel – the baptism of Jesus. Next Jesus faced forty days of temptation in the wilderness. And finally, last week, Jesus began to gather his disciples – calling Simon and Andrew and James and John. In Mark’s telling, Jesus simply says to these fishermen, “Follow me,” and they drop everything, changing the course of their lives forever.
In these quick, economical verses Mark tells us nothing about Jesus’ background or the content of Jesus’ teaching.
In these quick, economical verses Mark is making one big point: Jesus is powerful.
Mark doesn’t present a meek and mild Jesus. Mark presents Jesus receiving his power at his baptism in the River Jordan. Mark presents Jesus as a powerful person who withstood forty days of temptation in the wilderness. Mark presents Jesus as a powerful person who calls on others to change their lives – and they really do change their lives. Mark presents Jesus as a powerful person who teaches like no one else has ever taught before and who is able to defeat the evil forces of this world.
Mark is clear: Jesus is powerful.
In our Old Testament lesson from Deuteronomy, we heard Moses predict that God would raise up a prophet like him and the people should listen to him.
Mark understands that, in Jesus, God has done that and much more. Jesus is more than a prophet. Jesus is what Mark here calls the “Holy One of God” – a special title, used only three times in the whole New Testament.
Jesus is powerful.
Jesus is powerful because his will, his whole life, is perfectly aligned with God the Father. Jesus does the will of God the Father and so he resists forty days of temptation. Jesus does the will of God the Father and so people stop what they are doing and change the course of their lives. Jesus does the will of God the Father and so he teaches with an authority unlike any known before and is able to drive away the unclean spirits.
Jesus is powerful because his life is perfectly aligned with God the Father.
And since we are the Body of Christ in the world, then if our lives are aligned with God’s will, then we are powerful, too.
But, I wonder how many of us actually believe that? How many of us believe that if our lives are aligned with God’s will then we will have great power?
Last week, Lauren and I were at the institution of the new rector at Christ Church in Short Hills. The bishop preached an excellent sermon in which he reminded us of the term “functional atheism.” Anyone heard of this before?
“Functional atheism” was coined by the Quaker author and educator Parker Palmer. A “functional atheist” is someone who says they believe in God but lives like God doesn’t exist.
Sometimes “functional atheism” can play itself out as thinking that we can do everything on our own – that we don’t need or want God’s help.
“Functional atheism” can also play itself out as coming to church, saying all the “right” words, but living as if God has no power at all, as if God does not exist. “Functional atheism” can mean that we live as if we – the Body of Christ in the world – have no power at all. “Functional atheism” can mean that in our hearts we believe there is no good news at all.
In his sermon, the bishop said he was preaching as much to himself as he was to us – and, to be honest, the same is true for me.
Many of us – including me - are concerned about the economy. But in my particular case, “functional atheism” plays out in my anxiety about the Church. I’m not anxious at all about Grace Church – which in a lot of ways is an oasis – but I do worry about our diocese and the larger church, as attendance declines and finances are depleted.
And this “functional atheist” wonders, what’s my future in the church? How many churches will be able to afford a full-time priest? How will I earn a living?
I bet although the details of your functional atheism are different, the essence remains the same – the denial that God has any real power – the belief that it’s either all up to us or the belief that we’re helpless in the face of far greater powers.
But, as Christians we should know better. Just as Jesus faced the man possessed by the unclean spirit you and I can face the unclean spirits of our time and place, the unclean spirits of fear, anxiety, greed and selfishness.
Jesus, whose will was aligned with the Father’s will, was able to cast out unclean spirits. And if our wills are aligned with God’s will then we too can cast out the “unclean spirits” of our own time and place.
And we don’t have to look very far to see the casting out of unclean spirits all around us – when our wills are aligned with God’s will.
We saw it a few weeks ago when over a thousand people came out for the bone marrow donor drive for Kelli Wynne. Wasn’t that a powerful example of casting out the unclean spirits of fear and anxiety?
I saw it last week when a parishioner called and said he sits on the board of a foundation that will match our “Souper Bowl” donation if we reach $1000. And, by the way, I have every confidence that we will exceed $1000. Aren’t these powerful examples of casting out the unclean spirits of greed and selfishness?
As Christians we can face the unclean spirits of our time and place and not give in to despair. As Updike says of us Christians, “The bad news can be told full out, for it is not the only news.”
The bad news is not the only news - the good news is the power of Jesus and the good news is the power that we have together when our wills are aligned with God’s will.
Long ago Jesus had quite a day in the synagogue in Capernaum. Because his will was perfectly aligned with the will of God the Father, Jesus was capable of teaching with great authority and casting out unclean spirits.
If our will is aligned with God’s will, then we – the Body of Christ – on earth are also capable of great power. We too can cast aside our functional atheism and cast out the unclean spirits of our time and place.
All of this is possible because we know the bad news is not the only news.
Amen.
Being Together
The Messenger
February 2009
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
Being Together
I am sure that many of us agree that one of the real highlights for Grace Church during 2008 was the extremely successful 10,000 Villages event in December. It was amazing to see Nieman Hall transformed by a band of hardworking, determined parishioners into a dazzling marketplace. I invited my parents and some friends to the Friday night preview party and they were certainly impressed by what had been achieved – and also gave into temptation and purchased a couple of items. Later, many parishioners mentioned to me that they really enjoyed the party because it gave us a chance to enjoy one another’s company, meet new parishioners, and catch up with old friends.
In these challenging times it’s especially important for us to be together. Yet, for a variety of reasons many of us don’t get to spend enough time with friends. Some of us are incredibly busy, juggling all the responsibilities and tasks of work and family. Others of us have become isolated, perhaps because a spouse has died or we are no longer able to get out the way we once did. And even if we are fortunate enough to spend time with friends, often there are many parishioners we don’t know at all.
In an effort to meet this need, Grace Church is offering a new opportunity for being together called “First Friday.” Beginning on February 6, on each first Friday of the month beginning at 7:00pm, all the adults of Grace Church are invited to “First Friday” - a potluck supper in the parish hall. Bring a dish and a beverage and let’s spend some time just being together. There is no cost for this event – it’s not a fundraiser. Child care will be available in the nursery. Rides are available for those of us who are unable to drive, or can’t drive at night.
To make things even more interesting, each month at “First Friday” a different Grace Church parishioner will be invited to share something with the group about their work, or a hobby or an interest. We have a wonderfully talented and interesting congregation, but most of us do not really know much about each other. For our first “First Friday” I have invited Eric Stroud (one of the most talented and interesting among us!) to share a bit about his work in the world of sharks. I know it will be a fascinating and fun evening. I hope many of you will be there. Please let me know if you have any questions or suggestions.
“First Friday” is something new, but Grace Church already offers many opportunities for us to be together. Both the Men’s Group and the Women of Grace have been increasingly active. At the end of January the Friday morning Men’s Breakfast at the Bagel Chateau shattered all previous records when 10 of us pushed tables together and had a lively conversation. The Tuesday evening Craft Guild continues to gather, enjoying one another’s company in the library on Tuesday evenings. I’m told at least one person’s “craft” is folding laundry! On Friday afternoons the choir moms and dads enjoy fine coffee and snacks and even better conversation while the children are in choir rehearsal.
And then of course there are our services during the week. If you have never come to a weekday service – or if you haven’t been to one in a while – I really encourage you to take advantage of this great blessing we have at Grace Church. Each service has its own little community, providing not only an opportunity for prayer and worship, but also wonderful, caring fellowship. And sometimes there’s food involved! After the Thursday morning Eucharist most of us have breakfast together, lately at the Bagel Chateau, but soon back in our own kitchen. The breakfasts after Morning Prayer on Saturday are fantastic, and easily one of Grace Church’s best-kept secrets.
Finally, the most important opportunity to be together is on Sunday when we are all called to gather in church, to hear God’s Word and to receive the Body and Blood of Christ. After the morning services, as always, coffee hour is a time to catch up with one another and to just be together. If you haven’t been around in a while, come this Sunday and catch up with old friends. And, don’t forget to mark your calendars for “First Friday” on the 6th!
February 2009
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
Being Together
I am sure that many of us agree that one of the real highlights for Grace Church during 2008 was the extremely successful 10,000 Villages event in December. It was amazing to see Nieman Hall transformed by a band of hardworking, determined parishioners into a dazzling marketplace. I invited my parents and some friends to the Friday night preview party and they were certainly impressed by what had been achieved – and also gave into temptation and purchased a couple of items. Later, many parishioners mentioned to me that they really enjoyed the party because it gave us a chance to enjoy one another’s company, meet new parishioners, and catch up with old friends.
In these challenging times it’s especially important for us to be together. Yet, for a variety of reasons many of us don’t get to spend enough time with friends. Some of us are incredibly busy, juggling all the responsibilities and tasks of work and family. Others of us have become isolated, perhaps because a spouse has died or we are no longer able to get out the way we once did. And even if we are fortunate enough to spend time with friends, often there are many parishioners we don’t know at all.
In an effort to meet this need, Grace Church is offering a new opportunity for being together called “First Friday.” Beginning on February 6, on each first Friday of the month beginning at 7:00pm, all the adults of Grace Church are invited to “First Friday” - a potluck supper in the parish hall. Bring a dish and a beverage and let’s spend some time just being together. There is no cost for this event – it’s not a fundraiser. Child care will be available in the nursery. Rides are available for those of us who are unable to drive, or can’t drive at night.
To make things even more interesting, each month at “First Friday” a different Grace Church parishioner will be invited to share something with the group about their work, or a hobby or an interest. We have a wonderfully talented and interesting congregation, but most of us do not really know much about each other. For our first “First Friday” I have invited Eric Stroud (one of the most talented and interesting among us!) to share a bit about his work in the world of sharks. I know it will be a fascinating and fun evening. I hope many of you will be there. Please let me know if you have any questions or suggestions.
“First Friday” is something new, but Grace Church already offers many opportunities for us to be together. Both the Men’s Group and the Women of Grace have been increasingly active. At the end of January the Friday morning Men’s Breakfast at the Bagel Chateau shattered all previous records when 10 of us pushed tables together and had a lively conversation. The Tuesday evening Craft Guild continues to gather, enjoying one another’s company in the library on Tuesday evenings. I’m told at least one person’s “craft” is folding laundry! On Friday afternoons the choir moms and dads enjoy fine coffee and snacks and even better conversation while the children are in choir rehearsal.
And then of course there are our services during the week. If you have never come to a weekday service – or if you haven’t been to one in a while – I really encourage you to take advantage of this great blessing we have at Grace Church. Each service has its own little community, providing not only an opportunity for prayer and worship, but also wonderful, caring fellowship. And sometimes there’s food involved! After the Thursday morning Eucharist most of us have breakfast together, lately at the Bagel Chateau, but soon back in our own kitchen. The breakfasts after Morning Prayer on Saturday are fantastic, and easily one of Grace Church’s best-kept secrets.
Finally, the most important opportunity to be together is on Sunday when we are all called to gather in church, to hear God’s Word and to receive the Body and Blood of Christ. After the morning services, as always, coffee hour is a time to catch up with one another and to just be together. If you haven’t been around in a while, come this Sunday and catch up with old friends. And, don’t forget to mark your calendars for “First Friday” on the 6th!
Sunday, January 11, 2009
Baptism: The Real Beginning
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
January 11, 2009
Year B: The Baptism of Our Lord
Genesis 1:1-5
Psalm 29
Mark 1:4-11
Baptism: The Real Beginning
Today is the day we remember the baptism of our Lord. But, if you stop and think about it, isn’t it kind of strange that Jesus, our Lord, the Messiah, the Son of God, was baptized? I mean, if ever there was a person who didn’t need to be baptized it would be Jesus, wouldn’t it?
Yet, although it seems a little strange, Matthew, Mark and Luke all tell the story of Jesus’ baptism in their gospels. The evangelist John, writing the fourth gospel a little while later, was – like us - maybe a little uncomfortable with the idea of Jesus being baptized by John. So in his gospel John doesn’t include the actual baptism of Jesus. But, he does include the testimony of John the Baptist: “I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it remained on him.”
Today, though, we heard Mark’s version – probably the earliest, and certainly the most barebones. Mark places Jesus’ baptism right at the start of his gospel. In a few quick sentences he introduces John the Baptist as an Elijah-type figure. And then here’s how Mark introduces Jesus:
“In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan.”
That’s it. Mark either doesn’t know about or isn’t interested in Jesus’ back story. There’s no genealogy, no angels, no shepherds, no wise men, no manger. If all we had was the Gospel of Mark, there’d be no Christmas pageant!
For Mark, Jesus’ life really begins with his baptism.
So we’re left to imagine Jesus’ life before his baptism. Most scholars believe that Jesus probably started out as a disciple of John the Baptist. And we can imagine him listening to John’s preaching and teaching. We can imagine Jesus watching John, day after day, baptize people in the Jordan. And we can imagine Jesus asking the same questions we all ask. We can imagine Jesus wondering and praying – who am I? What am I called to be? What is my mission in life?
And we can imagine that the answer Jesus was getting back seemed outlandish, absurd, and terrifying. We can imagine him shaking his head in disbelief. I’m just a carpenter from Nazareth. What I’m feeling and hearing can’t be right.
And then the day came when Jesus finally came forward to take the plunge. Jesus comes up out of the water and he hears the voice of God, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”
Jesus realizes who he really is in his baptism. Jesus’ life really begins with his baptism.
And what’s true for Jesus is also true for us. In our baptism we realize who we really are. In our baptism our life really begins.
I am sure throughout his earthly life and ministry – especially during the most painful and frightening moments - Jesus remembered that day in the Jordan. Jesus remembered that it was in his baptism that he realized who he really was. Jesus remembered that it was at his baptism that his life really began.
And, you know, the same is true for us. In our baptism we realize who we really are. Our lives really begin at our baptism.
There’s just one problem. Most of us don’t remember our baptism.
When my wife Sue and I were dating she mentioned a couple of times that she actually remembered her baptism. I was skeptical. Now, Sue doesn’t have the best memory and I was sure she was mistaken. Could she be remembering something else – like Confirmation? I mean I know they say that we store in our brains every experience we ever have, but how could you possibly remember your baptism?
“I remember my baptism,” Sue insisted.
Well, when we were getting married we had to get a copy of our baptismal certificates. And sure enough Sue had been about six years old when she was baptized. We think it was time for her to start school and so her parents realized they needed to get their youngest child of six baptized.
But since most of us were baptized as infants we don’t remember our baptism. We need to be reminded of our baptism. We need to remind one another about our baptism.
One of the ways the Church reminds us of our baptism is in Confirmation. And it just so happens that eleven of our young people will begin Confirmation class tonight. A few months from now at the Confirmation service they’ll have the chance to stand on their own and say they want to be part of the Christian Church.
Confirmation is great, but the best way that the Church reminds us of our own baptism is by letting us witness other baptisms. Personally, I believe that one of the best customs in the Episcopal Church is that we almost always baptize right in the middle of a Sunday service. I love how we invite the children to gather around the font and watch the baptism take place. Most of you can’t see their faces, but usually the children look on with wonder and joy. And that seems about right!
Public baptism is important because it symbolizes that we are baptized into a community.
Public baptism is important because it gives us all an opportunity to promise our support of those who are being baptized into the Christian life.
And public baptism is important because it reminds us of our own baptism – it reminds us of who we really are – it reminds us of when our lives really began.
And public baptism also reminds us of the promises we made – or were made for us – in our baptism.
In the words of today’s collect “Grant that all who are baptized into his Name may keep the covenant they have made, and boldly confess him as Lord and Savior.”
That covenant – those promises – reminds us that baptism is the beginning of our life - but it’s not the end. With God’s help, we are expected to live out those promises each day of our lives.
Our baptismal promises aren’t easy – they are the challenge, the work, of our lives.
Today is a particularly good day to be reminded of those promises.
In our baptism we promise to continue in the apostle’s teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of the bread and the prayers.
In our baptism we promise to persevere in resisting evil, and, whenever we fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord.
In our baptism we promise to proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ.
In our baptism we promise to seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as our self.
And in our baptism we promise to strive for justice and peace among all people and respect the dignity of every human being.
These are serious promises. In the busyness of life it’s easy to forget them. Or, to be honest, because they are such serious promises maybe we might prefer to forget them.
And so the Church offers us reminders.
In Mark’s gospel right after Jesus’ baptism Jesus spends forty days in the wilderness being tempted and tested. I am sure throughout those days and all the later tests and temptations of life Jesus continued to draw upon the experience of his baptism.
I am sure during the difficult days ahead Jesus continued to draw upon his baptism - when he realized who he really was - that he was God’s beloved child.
I am sure that during the difficult days ahead Jesus continued to draw upon the experience of his baptism – when his life really began.
And so you and I, even if we don’t remember our own baptism, we too can draw upon our baptism. We can draw upon our baptism and remember that we are loved by God. We can remember that it is in baptism that we realize who we really are. And it is in baptism that our life really begins.
Amen.
January 11, 2009
Year B: The Baptism of Our Lord
Genesis 1:1-5
Psalm 29
Mark 1:4-11
Baptism: The Real Beginning
Today is the day we remember the baptism of our Lord. But, if you stop and think about it, isn’t it kind of strange that Jesus, our Lord, the Messiah, the Son of God, was baptized? I mean, if ever there was a person who didn’t need to be baptized it would be Jesus, wouldn’t it?
Yet, although it seems a little strange, Matthew, Mark and Luke all tell the story of Jesus’ baptism in their gospels. The evangelist John, writing the fourth gospel a little while later, was – like us - maybe a little uncomfortable with the idea of Jesus being baptized by John. So in his gospel John doesn’t include the actual baptism of Jesus. But, he does include the testimony of John the Baptist: “I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it remained on him.”
Today, though, we heard Mark’s version – probably the earliest, and certainly the most barebones. Mark places Jesus’ baptism right at the start of his gospel. In a few quick sentences he introduces John the Baptist as an Elijah-type figure. And then here’s how Mark introduces Jesus:
“In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee and was baptized by John in the Jordan.”
That’s it. Mark either doesn’t know about or isn’t interested in Jesus’ back story. There’s no genealogy, no angels, no shepherds, no wise men, no manger. If all we had was the Gospel of Mark, there’d be no Christmas pageant!
For Mark, Jesus’ life really begins with his baptism.
So we’re left to imagine Jesus’ life before his baptism. Most scholars believe that Jesus probably started out as a disciple of John the Baptist. And we can imagine him listening to John’s preaching and teaching. We can imagine Jesus watching John, day after day, baptize people in the Jordan. And we can imagine Jesus asking the same questions we all ask. We can imagine Jesus wondering and praying – who am I? What am I called to be? What is my mission in life?
And we can imagine that the answer Jesus was getting back seemed outlandish, absurd, and terrifying. We can imagine him shaking his head in disbelief. I’m just a carpenter from Nazareth. What I’m feeling and hearing can’t be right.
And then the day came when Jesus finally came forward to take the plunge. Jesus comes up out of the water and he hears the voice of God, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”
Jesus realizes who he really is in his baptism. Jesus’ life really begins with his baptism.
And what’s true for Jesus is also true for us. In our baptism we realize who we really are. In our baptism our life really begins.
I am sure throughout his earthly life and ministry – especially during the most painful and frightening moments - Jesus remembered that day in the Jordan. Jesus remembered that it was in his baptism that he realized who he really was. Jesus remembered that it was at his baptism that his life really began.
And, you know, the same is true for us. In our baptism we realize who we really are. Our lives really begin at our baptism.
There’s just one problem. Most of us don’t remember our baptism.
When my wife Sue and I were dating she mentioned a couple of times that she actually remembered her baptism. I was skeptical. Now, Sue doesn’t have the best memory and I was sure she was mistaken. Could she be remembering something else – like Confirmation? I mean I know they say that we store in our brains every experience we ever have, but how could you possibly remember your baptism?
“I remember my baptism,” Sue insisted.
Well, when we were getting married we had to get a copy of our baptismal certificates. And sure enough Sue had been about six years old when she was baptized. We think it was time for her to start school and so her parents realized they needed to get their youngest child of six baptized.
But since most of us were baptized as infants we don’t remember our baptism. We need to be reminded of our baptism. We need to remind one another about our baptism.
One of the ways the Church reminds us of our baptism is in Confirmation. And it just so happens that eleven of our young people will begin Confirmation class tonight. A few months from now at the Confirmation service they’ll have the chance to stand on their own and say they want to be part of the Christian Church.
Confirmation is great, but the best way that the Church reminds us of our own baptism is by letting us witness other baptisms. Personally, I believe that one of the best customs in the Episcopal Church is that we almost always baptize right in the middle of a Sunday service. I love how we invite the children to gather around the font and watch the baptism take place. Most of you can’t see their faces, but usually the children look on with wonder and joy. And that seems about right!
Public baptism is important because it symbolizes that we are baptized into a community.
Public baptism is important because it gives us all an opportunity to promise our support of those who are being baptized into the Christian life.
And public baptism is important because it reminds us of our own baptism – it reminds us of who we really are – it reminds us of when our lives really began.
And public baptism also reminds us of the promises we made – or were made for us – in our baptism.
In the words of today’s collect “Grant that all who are baptized into his Name may keep the covenant they have made, and boldly confess him as Lord and Savior.”
That covenant – those promises – reminds us that baptism is the beginning of our life - but it’s not the end. With God’s help, we are expected to live out those promises each day of our lives.
Our baptismal promises aren’t easy – they are the challenge, the work, of our lives.
Today is a particularly good day to be reminded of those promises.
In our baptism we promise to continue in the apostle’s teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of the bread and the prayers.
In our baptism we promise to persevere in resisting evil, and, whenever we fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord.
In our baptism we promise to proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ.
In our baptism we promise to seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as our self.
And in our baptism we promise to strive for justice and peace among all people and respect the dignity of every human being.
These are serious promises. In the busyness of life it’s easy to forget them. Or, to be honest, because they are such serious promises maybe we might prefer to forget them.
And so the Church offers us reminders.
In Mark’s gospel right after Jesus’ baptism Jesus spends forty days in the wilderness being tempted and tested. I am sure throughout those days and all the later tests and temptations of life Jesus continued to draw upon the experience of his baptism.
I am sure during the difficult days ahead Jesus continued to draw upon his baptism - when he realized who he really was - that he was God’s beloved child.
I am sure that during the difficult days ahead Jesus continued to draw upon the experience of his baptism – when his life really began.
And so you and I, even if we don’t remember our own baptism, we too can draw upon our baptism. We can draw upon our baptism and remember that we are loved by God. We can remember that it is in baptism that we realize who we really are. And it is in baptism that our life really begins.
Amen.
Thursday, January 01, 2009
The Feast of the Holy Name: Christmas, Continued
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
January 1, 2009
The Holy Name of Our Lord
Exodus 34:1-8
Psalm 8
Romans 1:1-7
Luke 2:15-21
The Feast of the Holy Name: Christmas, Continued
Well, happy New Year! As the rest of society sleeps off last night’s partying, or happily turns the page on what was a pretty bleak year, or maybe starts getting used to writing ’09 on their checks, here we are… in church.
While the rest of society focuses a little blearily on the start of a new year, the Church, maybe also a little bleary-eyed, celebrates the Feast of the Holy Name of Our Lord.
It’s the Feast of the Holy Name… but it’s also still Christmas. And what we celebrate on this feast day is very much a continuation of what we celebrated on Christmas. We celebrate the revelation of God in Jesus. God comes into the world in a new and decisive way in that helpless child whose birth we celebrated a little more than a week ago.
Today is Christmas, continued.
According to the Law of Moses on the eighth day all Jewish male newborns are to be circumcised and officially be given their names. And so we just heard the brief account in Luke’s Gospel that tells us that the Messiah was circumcised and was given his name: what was then the relatively common name of Yeshua – Joshua – Jesus in Greek. The Messiah is given a name which means savior or deliverer.
And so the revelation of Christmas continues. God comes into the world in this helpless child – a helpless child who will grow up and be our savior; who will grow up and deliver us from sin and death.
It turns out that, by Christian standards, this not a particularly ancient feast. The Feast of the Holy Name of Jesus “only” goes back to the late middle ages. Long-time Episcopalians may remember that today used to be called the Feast of the Circumcision. But although this feast, by Christian standards, is not very ancient, the fact is that right from the start of Christianity the name of Jesus was seen as very important. The name of Jesus was essentially synonymous with the person of Jesus.
We hear the importance and power of Jesus’ name in the opening of Paul’s letter to the Romans where he writes, “…Jesus Christ our Lord, through whom we have received grace and apostleship to bring about the obedience of faith among all the Gentiles for the sake of his name…”
This idea that Jesus’ name was seen as essentially synonymous with Jesus himself seems a little odd to us, doesn’t it? We may not make a big fuss about names today, but in the ancient world it was a big deal to tell someone your name. By telling someone your name you revealed something very personal about yourself. Nowadays, I guess we feel that way about our Social Security number, but not our name. I’m happy to tell you my name. My name is no big deal.
I suppose most parents give a lot of thought to the name they choose for their children. And we either like the names we are given or we don’t. A very few of us dislike our names so much that we change them – but I guess after a while most of us don’t really give our names much thought.
In my case, I was named for three Thomases – my father and both of my grandfathers. I like that, but never really given much thought to it. Sometimes, though, I’ve wished I had a more distinctive name. Believe me, there are many Tom Murphys out there! I’ve actually met people who didn’t like some other Tom Murphy and had to try not to transfer those negative feelings toward me. Believe it or not, there was another Tom Murphy ordained in another diocese right around the same time I was. We even accidentally received each other’s General Ordination Exam scores! A few weeks ago in Shop Rite the cashier saw my name and asked if I had grown up in Springfield. I said, no, I wasn’t that Tom Murphy. And he said, yeah, I guess not, that Tom Murphy had red hair!
However, I had an experience this summer that got me thinking about the importance of our name and the significance of revealing, or not revealing, our name with someone else.
For three days this past summer I attended a daily Eucharist at a prominent Episcopal church in California. Each day there were about five or six other people at the service. On the first day I was there, after the service on my way out I introduced myself to the priest. I said something like, “Hi, I’m Tom Murphy. I’m a priest visiting from the Diocese of Newark…” The priest welcomed me, asked how my trip was going, was very pleasant - but he didn’t tell me his name.
The next day I went back. There was a different priest. At the end of the service, same thing: I greeted the priest, and told him my name and where I was from. This priest did the same thing – once again very nice, cordial – but he didn’t tell me his name.
The third day I went back and it was the priest from the first day. As I was leaving, I reintroduced myself, telling him my name again. And once again he didn’t tell me his name!
Now, I don’t want to make too much of these incidents. But it really bugged me that I told these priests my name and they wouldn’t tell me theirs. The fact that this bothered me so much tells me that maybe our names are a big deal and maybe choosing to reveal our names is a bigger deal than I had thought.
And if our names are important, just how much more important must be the name of Jesus?
I never really gave much thought to the name of Jesus until I arrived at General Seminary four years ago. Remember, I grew up Roman Catholic in the 1970s and 1980s – the age of a simplified, folk music liturgy, the age of guitar-playing nuns leading us in song, the age of “Kumbaya”. Jesus was depicted as our groovy, bearded, sandal-wearing friend. It’s easy to make fun of now, but in a lot of ways it was a great time, and I think many of us felt close to Jesus, but we didn’t exactly show reverence to Jesus or his Name. And we certainly didn’t bow our heads whenever the Holy Name of Jesus was mentioned!
In fact it wasn’t until I went to General Seminary that I regularly saw people bowing their heads in the chapel whenever Jesus’ name was mentioned. At first, to be honest, I thought this was a kind of silly overly-pious affectation. But the more I thought about it, I came to see the bowing as a sign, as a physical reminder that, in the case of Jesus of Nazareth, the once relatively common name of “Jesus” is holy – it is other, it is higher than all other names because Jesus himself is holy, Jesus is the revelation of God, God made flesh.
And so today, the Feast of the Holy Name is Christmas, continued. In Christmas we celebrate the revelation of God in this child named Jesus who is our savior and deliverer.
And Christmas is really part of a long story stretching all the way back to Moses on Mt. Sinai. Christmas is part of a story of God reaching out to men and women, revealing God’s self to us, letting us know what God expects of us and how much God loves us.
God reveals God’s self to Moses and on Christmas God reveals God’s self once and for all in the savior named Jesus.
Our job today - no matter how bleary-eyed we are - is to take a moment and give thanks for the Holy Name of Jesus. And then we are to go out and live lives that reveal God’s presence and love to the world.
Now it’s our turn to be part of Christmas, continued.
Amen.
January 1, 2009
The Holy Name of Our Lord
Exodus 34:1-8
Psalm 8
Romans 1:1-7
Luke 2:15-21
The Feast of the Holy Name: Christmas, Continued
Well, happy New Year! As the rest of society sleeps off last night’s partying, or happily turns the page on what was a pretty bleak year, or maybe starts getting used to writing ’09 on their checks, here we are… in church.
While the rest of society focuses a little blearily on the start of a new year, the Church, maybe also a little bleary-eyed, celebrates the Feast of the Holy Name of Our Lord.
It’s the Feast of the Holy Name… but it’s also still Christmas. And what we celebrate on this feast day is very much a continuation of what we celebrated on Christmas. We celebrate the revelation of God in Jesus. God comes into the world in a new and decisive way in that helpless child whose birth we celebrated a little more than a week ago.
Today is Christmas, continued.
According to the Law of Moses on the eighth day all Jewish male newborns are to be circumcised and officially be given their names. And so we just heard the brief account in Luke’s Gospel that tells us that the Messiah was circumcised and was given his name: what was then the relatively common name of Yeshua – Joshua – Jesus in Greek. The Messiah is given a name which means savior or deliverer.
And so the revelation of Christmas continues. God comes into the world in this helpless child – a helpless child who will grow up and be our savior; who will grow up and deliver us from sin and death.
It turns out that, by Christian standards, this not a particularly ancient feast. The Feast of the Holy Name of Jesus “only” goes back to the late middle ages. Long-time Episcopalians may remember that today used to be called the Feast of the Circumcision. But although this feast, by Christian standards, is not very ancient, the fact is that right from the start of Christianity the name of Jesus was seen as very important. The name of Jesus was essentially synonymous with the person of Jesus.
We hear the importance and power of Jesus’ name in the opening of Paul’s letter to the Romans where he writes, “…Jesus Christ our Lord, through whom we have received grace and apostleship to bring about the obedience of faith among all the Gentiles for the sake of his name…”
This idea that Jesus’ name was seen as essentially synonymous with Jesus himself seems a little odd to us, doesn’t it? We may not make a big fuss about names today, but in the ancient world it was a big deal to tell someone your name. By telling someone your name you revealed something very personal about yourself. Nowadays, I guess we feel that way about our Social Security number, but not our name. I’m happy to tell you my name. My name is no big deal.
I suppose most parents give a lot of thought to the name they choose for their children. And we either like the names we are given or we don’t. A very few of us dislike our names so much that we change them – but I guess after a while most of us don’t really give our names much thought.
In my case, I was named for three Thomases – my father and both of my grandfathers. I like that, but never really given much thought to it. Sometimes, though, I’ve wished I had a more distinctive name. Believe me, there are many Tom Murphys out there! I’ve actually met people who didn’t like some other Tom Murphy and had to try not to transfer those negative feelings toward me. Believe it or not, there was another Tom Murphy ordained in another diocese right around the same time I was. We even accidentally received each other’s General Ordination Exam scores! A few weeks ago in Shop Rite the cashier saw my name and asked if I had grown up in Springfield. I said, no, I wasn’t that Tom Murphy. And he said, yeah, I guess not, that Tom Murphy had red hair!
However, I had an experience this summer that got me thinking about the importance of our name and the significance of revealing, or not revealing, our name with someone else.
For three days this past summer I attended a daily Eucharist at a prominent Episcopal church in California. Each day there were about five or six other people at the service. On the first day I was there, after the service on my way out I introduced myself to the priest. I said something like, “Hi, I’m Tom Murphy. I’m a priest visiting from the Diocese of Newark…” The priest welcomed me, asked how my trip was going, was very pleasant - but he didn’t tell me his name.
The next day I went back. There was a different priest. At the end of the service, same thing: I greeted the priest, and told him my name and where I was from. This priest did the same thing – once again very nice, cordial – but he didn’t tell me his name.
The third day I went back and it was the priest from the first day. As I was leaving, I reintroduced myself, telling him my name again. And once again he didn’t tell me his name!
Now, I don’t want to make too much of these incidents. But it really bugged me that I told these priests my name and they wouldn’t tell me theirs. The fact that this bothered me so much tells me that maybe our names are a big deal and maybe choosing to reveal our names is a bigger deal than I had thought.
And if our names are important, just how much more important must be the name of Jesus?
I never really gave much thought to the name of Jesus until I arrived at General Seminary four years ago. Remember, I grew up Roman Catholic in the 1970s and 1980s – the age of a simplified, folk music liturgy, the age of guitar-playing nuns leading us in song, the age of “Kumbaya”. Jesus was depicted as our groovy, bearded, sandal-wearing friend. It’s easy to make fun of now, but in a lot of ways it was a great time, and I think many of us felt close to Jesus, but we didn’t exactly show reverence to Jesus or his Name. And we certainly didn’t bow our heads whenever the Holy Name of Jesus was mentioned!
In fact it wasn’t until I went to General Seminary that I regularly saw people bowing their heads in the chapel whenever Jesus’ name was mentioned. At first, to be honest, I thought this was a kind of silly overly-pious affectation. But the more I thought about it, I came to see the bowing as a sign, as a physical reminder that, in the case of Jesus of Nazareth, the once relatively common name of “Jesus” is holy – it is other, it is higher than all other names because Jesus himself is holy, Jesus is the revelation of God, God made flesh.
And so today, the Feast of the Holy Name is Christmas, continued. In Christmas we celebrate the revelation of God in this child named Jesus who is our savior and deliverer.
And Christmas is really part of a long story stretching all the way back to Moses on Mt. Sinai. Christmas is part of a story of God reaching out to men and women, revealing God’s self to us, letting us know what God expects of us and how much God loves us.
God reveals God’s self to Moses and on Christmas God reveals God’s self once and for all in the savior named Jesus.
Our job today - no matter how bleary-eyed we are - is to take a moment and give thanks for the Holy Name of Jesus. And then we are to go out and live lives that reveal God’s presence and love to the world.
Now it’s our turn to be part of Christmas, continued.
Amen.
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Christmas Gifts in Unexpected Places
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
December 25, 2008
Year B: The Nativity of Our Lord
Isaiah 62: 6-7, 10-12
Titus 3: 4-7
Luke 2: 1-20
Christmas Gifts in Unexpected Places
So, how’s everyone’s Christmas been so far? Pretty good? Last night both services here were wonderful, despite the rainy weather.
I guess for many of us here it’s been pretty much like other Christmases. I guess most people have their own ways of doing Christmas. Some people come to church on Christmas Eve and then go home and maybe open a present or two and then it’s off to bed to wait for Santa.
Other people, I guess like a lot of us here this morning, get up early, maybe open up presents under the tree, go to church and then go off and be with families and friends. Each Christmas many of us cook and eat the same foods, we sing the same songs, and we carefully place the same ornaments on the Christmas tree.
So, of course, many of us have our Christmas traditions. You might even call them routines. And, let’s face it, most of us like our routines. We like our ways of doing things. We like things to be familiar. And that’s good, mostly.
Looking back, when I was growing up my family was pretty normal when it came to Christmas. Like most other people, we had our own traditions, our own familiar Christmas routines. One routine in particular sticks out in my memory. And it’s a routine that, looking back on it, probably drove my parents a little crazy.
Each year when my sister and I were little we would get up very, very early on Christmas morning and go to the living room to see the gifts that Santa had left for us under the tree. So each year, while it was still dark out, my sister and I would go through packages, opening up boxes and playing with our toys. This was our routine, it was familiar. My bleary-eyed parents would come downstairs and sit with us and ooh and ah at our gifts. Anybody else have a routine like this?
One year, though, for some reason my comfortable, familiar routine was changed. I’ll never forget it. Now I know, of course, we only have good children here at Grace. But, I’m sure sometimes parents here have warned kids that if they’re bad they won’t get any Christmas presents. Or maybe if they’re bad they’ll just get a bag of coal.
Now, I know you’ll find this hard to believe, but my parents used to say things like that to me! But, I never really believed it would happen, because each year, even if I hadn’t always been nice to my sister, or hadn’t cleaned up my room, or hadn’t done my homework, each year there were always gifts for me under the tree. But, I have to admit, although I didn’t think it would ever really happen, the remote possibility of no gifts for Christmas was always in the back of my mind.
Well, anyway, this one year I came downstairs in the dark hours of the early morning. Maybe my sister was still a baby, because I think I was alone. I came into the dark living room, my heart pounding with excitement. I turned on the lights. And I stood in shock and horror. There was nothing under the tree. The nightmare had come true!
What happened next is embarrassing. Since it is Christmas morning and we’re in church, let’s just say I “got sick.”
I guess my parents heard all the commotion and came downstairs to see what was going on. They took me by the shoulders, turned me a little, and showed me my gifts.
It turned out that for whatever reason this year my gifts were not in their usual place. Instead, they were just a few feet off to the side. But because, even as a little kid, I was so used to my familiar routine I had managed not to see the gifts that were waiting for me the whole time, just a little off to the side. It was like I was wearing blinders!
As a kid I learned the lesson “don’t panic, things may not be as bad as they seem.” But now as an adult looking back on that experience I realize that as much as we like familiarity, familiarity can be dangerous. Familiarity can prevent us from really seeing things. Familiarity can sometimes blind us to the gifts that we are being given in unexpected places.
The English writer from a century ago, G.K. Chesterton, once said, “The greatest of all illusions is the illusion of familiarity.” “The greatest of all illusions is the illusion of familiarity.”
Children can get caught up in familiar routines, but I suspect adults are much more susceptible to the illusion of familiarity. But if we really stop and reflect on it, what seems to be most familiar turns out to be the most wonderful, amazing, exciting gift.
Being wrapped up in our own familiar routines we can easily miss the gifts we are given in unexpected places.
And sometimes, like what happened to me long ago, our familiar routines get interrupted. And for many of us that’s happened this Christmas or in past Christmases. Some of us have lost beloved family members and friends. Some of us have lost jobs or worry if we will keep our jobs in the new year. For many of us anxiety and sadness have overshadowed or interrupted our familiar Christmas routines.
And, to say the least, this overshadowing or interruption can definitely be upsetting. But I believe that this overshadowing or interruption also offers us an opportunity to recover our sense of awe and wonder.
This interruption of the familiar just might make us open to receive the gifts we are being given in unexpected places.
In today’s gospel lesson, Mary is the ultimate model for us on how to recover our sense of awe and wonder. Obviously, there’s nothing familiar or routine about what’s happening to Mary. She is in the midst of the most extraordinary events. Nine months earlier an angel had greeted her with the news that, if she said yes, she would give birth to the Son of God.
And now she has received this most unlikely gift in a most unexpected place, and, on top of all that, Luke tells us, she been visited by shepherds who report an encounter with an angel and “a multitude of the heavenly host.”
And what’s Mary’s response to these extraordinary events? Luke says the people around Mary were “amazed” - which seems like a nice way of saying they all thought the shepherds were crazy. But, what’s Mary’s response? Luke writes, “Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.”
For most of us here, two thousand years later, what seemed amazing to the people around Mary is all too familiar. I guess the Christmas story is the most familiar story of all.
But if we follow Mary’s example and really treasure these words and ponder them in our hearts maybe this old familiar story can come alive with awe and wonder once again.
In thinking and praying about today’s sermon, I’ve been reminded of a sermon that Lauren gave a few weeks ago. In her sermon Lauren noted that because of the economy many of us are feeling more anxious and insecure than usual. In a sense, our familiar routines have been interrupted. But, her key point was that in the future we should remember what this anxiety and insecurity feels like because that’s how most people around the world feel most of the time. Our anxiety and insecurity can make us one with the anxious and insecure people all around the world.
I found an unexpected Christmas gift in that sermon from weeks ago.
Yes, the Christmas story is the most familiar of all. Yet, if we really ponder this story in our hearts, the unexpected gift we receive on Christmas is Jesus – fully human and fully divine.
The unexpected gift that Mary pondered in her heart so long ago was that in Jesus the God of the universe experiences what it’s like to be one of us. In Jesus, God experiences what it’s like to be a human being. In that helpless, stinky baby wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger, God experiences the helplessness we all experienced as babies – the crying out for food and milk – the complete dependence on others.
In Jesus, God experiences what it’s like to work with one’s hands, to have friends, to celebrate at a wedding, to give someone a hug, to laugh at a joke.
In Jesus, God experiences what it’s like to weep at the death of a friend, to be afraid about the future, and to be betrayed and abandoned.
And so, just as you and I need to hold on to our current experience of anxiety and insecurity to be one with the anxious and insecure people of the world, God holds on to the experience of being human and has become one with us in Jesus.
In Jesus, God really knows what it’s like to be a human being.
And in Jesus we know what God is really like.
So, when we are celebrating and joyful we are not alone - God is right there with us and God knows exactly how we feel.
So, when we are anxious and frightened we are not alone - God is right there with us and God knows exactly how we feel.
Let’s use the opportunity of this unfamiliar Christmas. Let’s recover our sense of awe and wonder. Let’s keep our eyes open and find the gifts that God gives us – gifts that we often find in unexpected places. Let’s help one another find those gifts. And, most of all, let’s ponder in our hearts the greatest and most unexpected gift of all – the gift of Jesus.
Amen.
December 25, 2008
Year B: The Nativity of Our Lord
Isaiah 62: 6-7, 10-12
Titus 3: 4-7
Luke 2: 1-20
Christmas Gifts in Unexpected Places
So, how’s everyone’s Christmas been so far? Pretty good? Last night both services here were wonderful, despite the rainy weather.
I guess for many of us here it’s been pretty much like other Christmases. I guess most people have their own ways of doing Christmas. Some people come to church on Christmas Eve and then go home and maybe open a present or two and then it’s off to bed to wait for Santa.
Other people, I guess like a lot of us here this morning, get up early, maybe open up presents under the tree, go to church and then go off and be with families and friends. Each Christmas many of us cook and eat the same foods, we sing the same songs, and we carefully place the same ornaments on the Christmas tree.
So, of course, many of us have our Christmas traditions. You might even call them routines. And, let’s face it, most of us like our routines. We like our ways of doing things. We like things to be familiar. And that’s good, mostly.
Looking back, when I was growing up my family was pretty normal when it came to Christmas. Like most other people, we had our own traditions, our own familiar Christmas routines. One routine in particular sticks out in my memory. And it’s a routine that, looking back on it, probably drove my parents a little crazy.
Each year when my sister and I were little we would get up very, very early on Christmas morning and go to the living room to see the gifts that Santa had left for us under the tree. So each year, while it was still dark out, my sister and I would go through packages, opening up boxes and playing with our toys. This was our routine, it was familiar. My bleary-eyed parents would come downstairs and sit with us and ooh and ah at our gifts. Anybody else have a routine like this?
One year, though, for some reason my comfortable, familiar routine was changed. I’ll never forget it. Now I know, of course, we only have good children here at Grace. But, I’m sure sometimes parents here have warned kids that if they’re bad they won’t get any Christmas presents. Or maybe if they’re bad they’ll just get a bag of coal.
Now, I know you’ll find this hard to believe, but my parents used to say things like that to me! But, I never really believed it would happen, because each year, even if I hadn’t always been nice to my sister, or hadn’t cleaned up my room, or hadn’t done my homework, each year there were always gifts for me under the tree. But, I have to admit, although I didn’t think it would ever really happen, the remote possibility of no gifts for Christmas was always in the back of my mind.
Well, anyway, this one year I came downstairs in the dark hours of the early morning. Maybe my sister was still a baby, because I think I was alone. I came into the dark living room, my heart pounding with excitement. I turned on the lights. And I stood in shock and horror. There was nothing under the tree. The nightmare had come true!
What happened next is embarrassing. Since it is Christmas morning and we’re in church, let’s just say I “got sick.”
I guess my parents heard all the commotion and came downstairs to see what was going on. They took me by the shoulders, turned me a little, and showed me my gifts.
It turned out that for whatever reason this year my gifts were not in their usual place. Instead, they were just a few feet off to the side. But because, even as a little kid, I was so used to my familiar routine I had managed not to see the gifts that were waiting for me the whole time, just a little off to the side. It was like I was wearing blinders!
As a kid I learned the lesson “don’t panic, things may not be as bad as they seem.” But now as an adult looking back on that experience I realize that as much as we like familiarity, familiarity can be dangerous. Familiarity can prevent us from really seeing things. Familiarity can sometimes blind us to the gifts that we are being given in unexpected places.
The English writer from a century ago, G.K. Chesterton, once said, “The greatest of all illusions is the illusion of familiarity.” “The greatest of all illusions is the illusion of familiarity.”
Children can get caught up in familiar routines, but I suspect adults are much more susceptible to the illusion of familiarity. But if we really stop and reflect on it, what seems to be most familiar turns out to be the most wonderful, amazing, exciting gift.
Being wrapped up in our own familiar routines we can easily miss the gifts we are given in unexpected places.
And sometimes, like what happened to me long ago, our familiar routines get interrupted. And for many of us that’s happened this Christmas or in past Christmases. Some of us have lost beloved family members and friends. Some of us have lost jobs or worry if we will keep our jobs in the new year. For many of us anxiety and sadness have overshadowed or interrupted our familiar Christmas routines.
And, to say the least, this overshadowing or interruption can definitely be upsetting. But I believe that this overshadowing or interruption also offers us an opportunity to recover our sense of awe and wonder.
This interruption of the familiar just might make us open to receive the gifts we are being given in unexpected places.
In today’s gospel lesson, Mary is the ultimate model for us on how to recover our sense of awe and wonder. Obviously, there’s nothing familiar or routine about what’s happening to Mary. She is in the midst of the most extraordinary events. Nine months earlier an angel had greeted her with the news that, if she said yes, she would give birth to the Son of God.
And now she has received this most unlikely gift in a most unexpected place, and, on top of all that, Luke tells us, she been visited by shepherds who report an encounter with an angel and “a multitude of the heavenly host.”
And what’s Mary’s response to these extraordinary events? Luke says the people around Mary were “amazed” - which seems like a nice way of saying they all thought the shepherds were crazy. But, what’s Mary’s response? Luke writes, “Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.”
For most of us here, two thousand years later, what seemed amazing to the people around Mary is all too familiar. I guess the Christmas story is the most familiar story of all.
But if we follow Mary’s example and really treasure these words and ponder them in our hearts maybe this old familiar story can come alive with awe and wonder once again.
In thinking and praying about today’s sermon, I’ve been reminded of a sermon that Lauren gave a few weeks ago. In her sermon Lauren noted that because of the economy many of us are feeling more anxious and insecure than usual. In a sense, our familiar routines have been interrupted. But, her key point was that in the future we should remember what this anxiety and insecurity feels like because that’s how most people around the world feel most of the time. Our anxiety and insecurity can make us one with the anxious and insecure people all around the world.
I found an unexpected Christmas gift in that sermon from weeks ago.
Yes, the Christmas story is the most familiar of all. Yet, if we really ponder this story in our hearts, the unexpected gift we receive on Christmas is Jesus – fully human and fully divine.
The unexpected gift that Mary pondered in her heart so long ago was that in Jesus the God of the universe experiences what it’s like to be one of us. In Jesus, God experiences what it’s like to be a human being. In that helpless, stinky baby wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger, God experiences the helplessness we all experienced as babies – the crying out for food and milk – the complete dependence on others.
In Jesus, God experiences what it’s like to work with one’s hands, to have friends, to celebrate at a wedding, to give someone a hug, to laugh at a joke.
In Jesus, God experiences what it’s like to weep at the death of a friend, to be afraid about the future, and to be betrayed and abandoned.
And so, just as you and I need to hold on to our current experience of anxiety and insecurity to be one with the anxious and insecure people of the world, God holds on to the experience of being human and has become one with us in Jesus.
In Jesus, God really knows what it’s like to be a human being.
And in Jesus we know what God is really like.
So, when we are celebrating and joyful we are not alone - God is right there with us and God knows exactly how we feel.
So, when we are anxious and frightened we are not alone - God is right there with us and God knows exactly how we feel.
Let’s use the opportunity of this unfamiliar Christmas. Let’s recover our sense of awe and wonder. Let’s keep our eyes open and find the gifts that God gives us – gifts that we often find in unexpected places. Let’s help one another find those gifts. And, most of all, let’s ponder in our hearts the greatest and most unexpected gift of all – the gift of Jesus.
Amen.
Sunday, December 07, 2008
Metanoia
Grace Episcopal Church, Madison NJ
December 7, 2008
Year B: The Second Sunday of Advent
Isaiah 40:1-11
Psalm 85:1-2, 8-13
(2 Peter 3:8-15a)
Mark 1: 1-8
Metanoia
On this second Sunday of Advent we are reintroduced to John the Baptist in the Gospel of Mark – which most scholars think is the earliest of the four gospels, and is certainly the most barebones.
Truthfully, Mark isn’t very interested in John the Baptizer, as he calls him. Mark is really only interested in telling us about the life, ministry and meaning of Jesus Christ. So, Mark begins his gospel with the seemingly simple words, “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.”
This may be the beginning of the good news, but Mark is clear that the good news of Jesus Christ is what people had been awaiting for centuries. And so, in his gospel Mark immediately looks back into the Hebrew Scriptures and quotes from the prophet Isaiah. Actually, to be accurate, Mark includes verses from the Prophet Malachi and the Book of Exodus, along with Isaiah.
With a few quick quotes Mark economically reminds us that for centuries God had inspired prophets to call for repentance, and to point ahead to the Holy One who was to come.
And then Mark quickly introduces John the Baptist, not with much back story, but simply as the last in this long line of prophets: “John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” Like so many of the prophets before him, John calls for repentance.
And like so many of the prophets before him John points ahead to the Holy One, the Messiah, who was to come. John says to the people, this baptism with water that I’m giving you is nothing compared with what the Messiah will give you – baptism with the Holy Spirit.
Now at this point, even for those of us who take Advent seriously, it’s tempting to get ahead of ourselves – to jump ahead to Christmas and the birth of the Messiah who baptizes us with the Holy Spirit. After all, let’s be honest, we know what happens next. We know the rest of the story – we know Jesus has already come and lived among us. We know the birth, we know the teaching, we know the death, and we know the resurrection. We know all this. But since Advent really is a season to be mindful, to pay attention, we need to resist the temptation to skip ahead to Christmas.
So, since we’re not going to skip ahead, what might John the Baptist have to say for us today? What might John the Baptist have to say to us – to people who know the rest of the story, to people who already know Jesus, to people who have already been baptized with water and the Holy Spirit?
John’s message is as timely for us as it was for the people of the First Century who came to be baptized in the River Jordan. We are called to repentance. And we are called to live in a way that our very lives point to Jesus – the messiah who has already come and continues to live among us.
In the gospels, it’s the Greek word metanoia that is translated as repentance. But metanoia means more than just repentance, it means changing one’s mind. That’s an expression we use a lot more than repentance, isn’t it? In fact, we’ve probably cheapened it a little bit with overuse. In fact, I’m sure you’ve heard people say things like, “You know, I changed my mind and decided to buy that beautiful basket at the 10,000 Villages fair after all”?
But, when you think of it, really changing your mind is something very deep, isn’t it? To change our mind means to radically revise the way see the world, to radically reorder our priorities.
Maybe instead of “change of mind” we should say something that we don’t say quite as often, something that sounds deeper. Maybe we should say “change of heart’.
That’s what the prophets called for. That’s what John the Baptist was preaching to those people who came to him for baptism He was calling them to change their minds, to change their hearts. When they came up out of the water they were to be radically changed, to be transformed - to have a change of heart. They – and we – are called to have a change of heart so that our very lives point to Jesus, the Holy One who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.
Now, I don’t know, maybe all this talk of metanoia - all this talk of a change of heart - sounds a little pie-in-the-sky. But, actually, if we allow God in to change our hearts, if we allow our lives to point to Jesus, then the consequences are very concrete and practical.
Here’s a quote attributed to Pedro Arrupe, who was the leader of the Jesuits from 1965 to 1983. I think he powerfully sums up the powerful effects of metanoia, the powerful effects of a change of heart. He says:
“Nothing is more practical than finding God, that is, than falling in love in a quite absolute, final way. What you are in love with, what seizes your imagination, will affect everything. It will decide what will get you out of bed in the morning, what you will do with your evenings, how you will spend your weekends, what you read, who you know, what breaks your heart, and what amazes you with joy and gratitude. Fall in love, stay in love, and it will decide everything.”
Now, that’s metanoia, that’s a change of heart. That’s what John the Baptist was talking about out in the wilderness and that’s the message for us today. Open ourselves up to metanoia, open ourselves to a change of heart, allow our very lives to point to Jesus.
In her sermon last week, Lauren noted that the Church is counter-cultural. While the rest of society has long-since moved on to Christmas, we insist on this quiet time of prayer and mindfulness, Advent.
And if we continue to open ourselves up to change of heart then we will become more and more counter-cultural.
Let’s think about the so-called Christmas season. This is a time of year when our culture whips us into such frenzy with talk about “Black Friday” that 2,000 ordinary people could gather in the early morning hours outside a Wal-Mart on Long Island and, when the doors opened (at 5:00AM), horrifically trample a Wal-Mart employee to death.
Now, you and I may not have been waiting outside of Wal-Mart in the early morning, but, let’s be honest, most of us do get caught up in the materialistic frenzy of this “season.” That’s the message of the culture we live in: buy more, get the bargain, and don’t worry about the consequences. Just get it – and then you’ll be happy.
If we are to have metanoia, a change of heart, then we are going to be counter-cultural. There’s a group that was started about four years ago called “The Advent Conspiracy.” On their website they describe a conspiracy that stands up to our culture with four parts: worship fully, spend less, give more, love all.
Now that’s counter-cultural! Worship fully, spend less, give more, love all. That’s really opening ourselves up to a change of heart.
So what would an “advent conspiracy” look like around here? What would metanoia look like around here? What would a change of heart look like around here? How could we live so our lives point to Jesus?
Well, if we really open up ourselves to a change of heart, then church will be a top priority – being here for worship, inviting others to join us, giving to the church in a way that’s a real sacrifice.
If we really open up ourselves to a change of heart, maybe instead of buying some unimaginative Christmas gift, after this service we’ll fill out one of the outreach gift certificates and give a gift to a worthy cause in honor of one of our friends or relatives – a gift far better than any sweater.
If we really open up ourselves to a change of heart, the “Food for Friends” barrel right over there in the chapel will be overflowing week after week and Kit Cone will get tired of making the trip to Dover to deliver our donations.
If we really open up ourselves to a change of heart, then every line on our soup kitchen sign-up sheet will be filled and Marge Paul will wonder what is she going to do with all this food and all these volunteers.
That’s what a change of heart looks like.
And 2000 years ago on the banks of the River Jordan, John the Baptist called on the people to metanoia, to repent, to have a change of heart. And all these years later, you and I who have been baptized with water and the Holy Spirit are also called to have metanoia, to repent, to have a change of heart. We are called to make our very lives point to Jesus.
How we answer that call will decide everything.
Amen.
December 7, 2008
Year B: The Second Sunday of Advent
Isaiah 40:1-11
Psalm 85:1-2, 8-13
(2 Peter 3:8-15a)
Mark 1: 1-8
Metanoia
On this second Sunday of Advent we are reintroduced to John the Baptist in the Gospel of Mark – which most scholars think is the earliest of the four gospels, and is certainly the most barebones.
Truthfully, Mark isn’t very interested in John the Baptizer, as he calls him. Mark is really only interested in telling us about the life, ministry and meaning of Jesus Christ. So, Mark begins his gospel with the seemingly simple words, “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.”
This may be the beginning of the good news, but Mark is clear that the good news of Jesus Christ is what people had been awaiting for centuries. And so, in his gospel Mark immediately looks back into the Hebrew Scriptures and quotes from the prophet Isaiah. Actually, to be accurate, Mark includes verses from the Prophet Malachi and the Book of Exodus, along with Isaiah.
With a few quick quotes Mark economically reminds us that for centuries God had inspired prophets to call for repentance, and to point ahead to the Holy One who was to come.
And then Mark quickly introduces John the Baptist, not with much back story, but simply as the last in this long line of prophets: “John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.” Like so many of the prophets before him, John calls for repentance.
And like so many of the prophets before him John points ahead to the Holy One, the Messiah, who was to come. John says to the people, this baptism with water that I’m giving you is nothing compared with what the Messiah will give you – baptism with the Holy Spirit.
Now at this point, even for those of us who take Advent seriously, it’s tempting to get ahead of ourselves – to jump ahead to Christmas and the birth of the Messiah who baptizes us with the Holy Spirit. After all, let’s be honest, we know what happens next. We know the rest of the story – we know Jesus has already come and lived among us. We know the birth, we know the teaching, we know the death, and we know the resurrection. We know all this. But since Advent really is a season to be mindful, to pay attention, we need to resist the temptation to skip ahead to Christmas.
So, since we’re not going to skip ahead, what might John the Baptist have to say for us today? What might John the Baptist have to say to us – to people who know the rest of the story, to people who already know Jesus, to people who have already been baptized with water and the Holy Spirit?
John’s message is as timely for us as it was for the people of the First Century who came to be baptized in the River Jordan. We are called to repentance. And we are called to live in a way that our very lives point to Jesus – the messiah who has already come and continues to live among us.
In the gospels, it’s the Greek word metanoia that is translated as repentance. But metanoia means more than just repentance, it means changing one’s mind. That’s an expression we use a lot more than repentance, isn’t it? In fact, we’ve probably cheapened it a little bit with overuse. In fact, I’m sure you’ve heard people say things like, “You know, I changed my mind and decided to buy that beautiful basket at the 10,000 Villages fair after all”?
But, when you think of it, really changing your mind is something very deep, isn’t it? To change our mind means to radically revise the way see the world, to radically reorder our priorities.
Maybe instead of “change of mind” we should say something that we don’t say quite as often, something that sounds deeper. Maybe we should say “change of heart’.
That’s what the prophets called for. That’s what John the Baptist was preaching to those people who came to him for baptism He was calling them to change their minds, to change their hearts. When they came up out of the water they were to be radically changed, to be transformed - to have a change of heart. They – and we – are called to have a change of heart so that our very lives point to Jesus, the Holy One who baptizes with the Holy Spirit.
Now, I don’t know, maybe all this talk of metanoia - all this talk of a change of heart - sounds a little pie-in-the-sky. But, actually, if we allow God in to change our hearts, if we allow our lives to point to Jesus, then the consequences are very concrete and practical.
Here’s a quote attributed to Pedro Arrupe, who was the leader of the Jesuits from 1965 to 1983. I think he powerfully sums up the powerful effects of metanoia, the powerful effects of a change of heart. He says:
“Nothing is more practical than finding God, that is, than falling in love in a quite absolute, final way. What you are in love with, what seizes your imagination, will affect everything. It will decide what will get you out of bed in the morning, what you will do with your evenings, how you will spend your weekends, what you read, who you know, what breaks your heart, and what amazes you with joy and gratitude. Fall in love, stay in love, and it will decide everything.”
Now, that’s metanoia, that’s a change of heart. That’s what John the Baptist was talking about out in the wilderness and that’s the message for us today. Open ourselves up to metanoia, open ourselves to a change of heart, allow our very lives to point to Jesus.
In her sermon last week, Lauren noted that the Church is counter-cultural. While the rest of society has long-since moved on to Christmas, we insist on this quiet time of prayer and mindfulness, Advent.
And if we continue to open ourselves up to change of heart then we will become more and more counter-cultural.
Let’s think about the so-called Christmas season. This is a time of year when our culture whips us into such frenzy with talk about “Black Friday” that 2,000 ordinary people could gather in the early morning hours outside a Wal-Mart on Long Island and, when the doors opened (at 5:00AM), horrifically trample a Wal-Mart employee to death.
Now, you and I may not have been waiting outside of Wal-Mart in the early morning, but, let’s be honest, most of us do get caught up in the materialistic frenzy of this “season.” That’s the message of the culture we live in: buy more, get the bargain, and don’t worry about the consequences. Just get it – and then you’ll be happy.
If we are to have metanoia, a change of heart, then we are going to be counter-cultural. There’s a group that was started about four years ago called “The Advent Conspiracy.” On their website they describe a conspiracy that stands up to our culture with four parts: worship fully, spend less, give more, love all.
Now that’s counter-cultural! Worship fully, spend less, give more, love all. That’s really opening ourselves up to a change of heart.
So what would an “advent conspiracy” look like around here? What would metanoia look like around here? What would a change of heart look like around here? How could we live so our lives point to Jesus?
Well, if we really open up ourselves to a change of heart, then church will be a top priority – being here for worship, inviting others to join us, giving to the church in a way that’s a real sacrifice.
If we really open up ourselves to a change of heart, maybe instead of buying some unimaginative Christmas gift, after this service we’ll fill out one of the outreach gift certificates and give a gift to a worthy cause in honor of one of our friends or relatives – a gift far better than any sweater.
If we really open up ourselves to a change of heart, the “Food for Friends” barrel right over there in the chapel will be overflowing week after week and Kit Cone will get tired of making the trip to Dover to deliver our donations.
If we really open up ourselves to a change of heart, then every line on our soup kitchen sign-up sheet will be filled and Marge Paul will wonder what is she going to do with all this food and all these volunteers.
That’s what a change of heart looks like.
And 2000 years ago on the banks of the River Jordan, John the Baptist called on the people to metanoia, to repent, to have a change of heart. And all these years later, you and I who have been baptized with water and the Holy Spirit are also called to have metanoia, to repent, to have a change of heart. We are called to make our very lives point to Jesus.
How we answer that call will decide everything.
Amen.
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