Wouldn’t the story of Jonah make a great Disney movie? After all, we frequently think of it as a children’s story, every Sunday school program always and forever includes it, it is a story that fascinates children. Imagine the graphics, a solitary and reluctant prophet lodged inside an ooey, gooey big fish. And, that’s the better translation; Jonah was inside a big fish, not a warm and more appealing mammal. He was stuck in a cold, dark, slimy and smelly creature. And, like a good Disney movie, it has layer after layer to also hold the interest of adults.
Jonah is a minor prophet, not one of the big names like Isaiah or Jeremiah. And, God gives him a relatively minor task; he is not charged with calling the whole Israelite nation to repentance, no, he is sent just to Nineveh, to warn only this one city to straighten up and fly right. And, he is resistant, reluctant and recalcitrant about his mission. Jonah does not want to be with the people of Nineveh and, as we find out later on, he certainly does not want them to be saved. He runs away from God, boards a ship and gets thrown overboard into the belly of the big fish. When Jonah comes to his senses and prays to God, he is vomited up onto dry land. God comes to Jonah a second time and orders him to Nineveh to deliver this short and powerful sermon - “Just forty days more and Nineveh will be overthrown”. A sermon of merely 8 words, but it caused the Ninevites to proclaim a fast, put on mourning clothes and stop their evil behavior and violence. Now that’s a sermon!
Jonah however, isn’t thrilled with this outcome. No, Jonah is angry with God, resentful of God’s mercy and compassion. He leaves the city in a snit and builds himself a hut to sit in. Jonah is angry with God for showing God’s grace to people he doesn’t approve of. Using a shrub and a worm God teaches Jonah that God will always be available, abundantly available, to those who work toward being in right relationship with their creator, regardless of whether or not we find them worthy of God’s grace.
Our readings today take us from the story of a big fish to the story of four fishermen. Like Jonah in Nineveh, Jesus is in Galilee is preaching repentance. Jesus witnesses Simon, better known to us as Peter, and his brother Andrew casting a net into the sea. He invites them to follow him and they immediately drop their nets, leave their livelihood and their families to join up with Jesus. Likewise James and John stop mending their nets, the tools of their trade, leave their father with the hired hands and walk away from the sea into the company of Jesus. Like Jonah, Jesus uses few words, and the results are almost unimaginable. The fisherman get up and follow immediately, with no arguments or demands for details they leave everything and everyone behind. They show us the true meaning of repentance: to change one’s whole way of thinking and being in the world.
The words Jesus uses: “Follow me and I will make you fish for people” are so familiar to us that we almost ignore them, we gloss over them and don’t spend a lot of time discerning what they might mean for us, in our day and age, in our circumstances and situations.
Let’s think for a moment about the fishermen’s nets. Nets are of utmost importance to fishermen, they are the means by which great quantities of fish are caught, the tools used to provide the living that support their families, that sustain their way of life. Boats are important, strong and savvy sailors are important, knowledge of tides and winds are important, but no nets means no fish and therefore no income. It is impossible to conceive of fishermen, then and now, making a living without nets. Nets are familiar to them, nets are a source of safety, and nets are part of their identity. Nets are not merely important, they are iconic to fishermen. So, when Andrew, Peter, James, and John drop their nets, they are dropping everything that they previously thought, believed and treasured.
So, the first thing we need to know about fishing for people is that it will disrupt our usual patterns; this means it will force us to drop our beloved safety nets, it will challenge all of our assumptions about the worthiness of others, it will take us out of our comfort zones and completely turn us around.
The second thing we need to know about fishing for people is that it happens in relationship. And, as we will learn from Jesus throughout the Gospels, it happens in relationship with people that God places in our paths, not just the people we are used to being with, not just the people we are comfortable being with. Jesus takes these fisherman and exposes them to prostitutes, tax collectors, the poor, the hungry, the sick, the imprisoned, all of the outcasts they have been raised to avoid, all of the outcasts they have been taught are unclean, unsavory and unsafe. Just as God didn’t need or want Jonah’s approval before saving Nineveh, God is not likely to ask or want our approval before putting people in place for us to fish for. Nope, the good news of God’s kingdom come, here on earth, is for everyone- no strings attached, no exceptions.
The third thing we need to know about fishing for people is that it involves putting ourselves out there, out there in the often cold, cruel, messy world. Jonah had to go to Nineveh, our four fisherman had to leave the shores of Lake Galilee and we have to leave our pews and these four walls. God isn’t asking us to fish in an already stocked pond.
Jonah was called. Andrew, Peter, James and John were called. We are called. We are called to proclaim and demonstrate the good news, the good news that God is here, always and forever…the good news that we are all loved beyond measure by our creator, the good news that God in Jesus models for us, and we are to receive and share that love, not only with one another, but with the world. The church is here for our renewal and refreshment, it is up to us to offer that renewal and refreshment to everyone else. AMEN.
Thursday, January 29, 2015
Monday, January 19, 2015
Quiet down, open up , get found and follow Me. Epiphany 2 January 18 2015
I’m here. Speak, your servant is listening
You have searched me out and known me (examined me. And know me)
Follow Me…Come and See
These are three of the most beautiful sentiments in scripture and we have heard all of them today!
The prophet Samuel’s birth was another one of those “miracle” births. Much like Sarah before her and Elizabeth after, Hannah, Samuel’s mother, could not conceive. A woman of great faith, Hannah promised God that if she conceived, she would dedicate the child to God. So, once she gives birth to Samuel, he’s presented to the old priest Eli. From that day forward, Samuel lived within the temple walls…as one commentator puts it…”as a permanent altar boy.” This background is important to understanding the the scene we read today because if anyone should recognize God’s voice, it’s Samuel; yet this 13 year old boy, who worshipped day and night at the side of Eli, didn’t recognize God’s voice when God spoke to him. Three times, Samuel assumes that the voice beckoning him is Eli’s. If Samuel, whose life’s been devoted to God’s worship and service couldn’t “hear” God how hard is it for us to hear, to listen, to receive God into our life?
Our world is full of noise and distraction—Smart phones, iPads, kindles, tweets, instagram, facebook…24/7 news, 24/7 entertainment, 24/7 comments on every aspect of life. All noise, all the time.
How in the world are we to ever hear, recognize, and receive God in all this noise?
By following the same advice Eli gave Samuel that night thousands of years ago. By getting quiet, by sitting still and by saying to God, “Here I am.” And then, by shutting everything else out and off and listening….listening to God, listening for God. “I’m here God, your servant. And I am listening.”
I’m committed to spending 2 or 3 minutes every morning and 2 or 3 minutes every night in what I call “silent receptivity.” Just sitting and presenting my silent self to God. To hear, to listen, to receive. Perhaps you’d like to join me in this experiment. 2 or 3 minutes every morning every night. Silently receptive.
Now be forewarned, there’s a danger in getting that quiet, becoming that open to receiving God..because if we “get found” by God, if we enter the fold of God’s loving embrace we just may get “known.”
The psalmist says it two different ways, depending on the translation used. In the more familiar Book of Common Prayer translation the first verse of today’s psalm reads:
“You have searched me out and known me”
In the Common English Bible it reads:
“Lord, you have examined me.
You know me.”
You have examined me and I am known.
Both versions allude to the same thing---when we get settled enough, quiet enough, still enough ---we’ll realize this fundamental fact: No one knows us as well as God. No one sees us as well as God. No one Loves us as well as God.
And while that fact should, in theory, be comforting it is, in reality, somewhat terrifying. God knows us. God examines us. God sees us….fully and completely…not the “Cathy” “Pete” “Debi” “Charlie”… we present to the world….not the one we present to ourselves…No, when we sit still and say, “Here I am God, I’m listening,” we’ll come face to face with the truth of who we are in God’s eyes. The real us. The person God created, the child God adores.
Now, remember this isn’t for the feint of heart--
When we’re truly known, when we accept God into our lives, 100%, our lives will never be the same. Do this and we…each and everyone one of us… will experience fundamental and profound change.
Just like the apostles.
Today and next week our Gospels are stories about Jesus calling the twelve. The come and follow me texts…this week we have John’s version, next week Mark’s. Today we join the story midway through…Jesus has just been baptized and is getting down to the business of calling his closest followers…he’s already called Andrew and Andrew has already gone out and recruited his brother Simon Peter when he turns his sights on Nathanael…
Yes THAT Nathanael the one who has the funniest line in the Bible…”can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Nathanael’s a tough nut to crack, he has skeptic written all over him and no amount of cajoling by Andrew will get him to believe in this Jesus fellow so instead of trying to “sell” him, he just says, Come. See. And so Nathanael goes to see what the big deal is about this crazy preacher man from Galilee. And when he gets there? He discovers that Jesus already knows him. He discovers that Jesus has already sought him out, found him, seen him, examined him and knows the real and true him. Not the sarcastic and skeptical Nathanael but the genuine Nathanael who tells it like it is, doesn’t suffer fools gladly but who will live and die for the faith. Jesus had seen Nathanael, Jesus knew Nathanael and Nathanael, from that moment on, was never ever the same. All because he went, he heard, he saw, he knew and he followed.
Today’s readings are chock full of wonderful sayings and beautiful prose, providing a guidebook to being a faithful servant of the Lord:
Quiet Down.
Open Up
And Get Found
For the God of Love knows us better than we know ourselves
And when we let God in, when we choose to follow Jesus Christ, when we get quiet, still and receptive, we will be found, we will be loved and we will never ever be the same.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
You have searched me out and known me (examined me. And know me)
Follow Me…Come and See
These are three of the most beautiful sentiments in scripture and we have heard all of them today!
The prophet Samuel’s birth was another one of those “miracle” births. Much like Sarah before her and Elizabeth after, Hannah, Samuel’s mother, could not conceive. A woman of great faith, Hannah promised God that if she conceived, she would dedicate the child to God. So, once she gives birth to Samuel, he’s presented to the old priest Eli. From that day forward, Samuel lived within the temple walls…as one commentator puts it…”as a permanent altar boy.” This background is important to understanding the the scene we read today because if anyone should recognize God’s voice, it’s Samuel; yet this 13 year old boy, who worshipped day and night at the side of Eli, didn’t recognize God’s voice when God spoke to him. Three times, Samuel assumes that the voice beckoning him is Eli’s. If Samuel, whose life’s been devoted to God’s worship and service couldn’t “hear” God how hard is it for us to hear, to listen, to receive God into our life?
Our world is full of noise and distraction—Smart phones, iPads, kindles, tweets, instagram, facebook…24/7 news, 24/7 entertainment, 24/7 comments on every aspect of life. All noise, all the time.
How in the world are we to ever hear, recognize, and receive God in all this noise?
By following the same advice Eli gave Samuel that night thousands of years ago. By getting quiet, by sitting still and by saying to God, “Here I am.” And then, by shutting everything else out and off and listening….listening to God, listening for God. “I’m here God, your servant. And I am listening.”
I’m committed to spending 2 or 3 minutes every morning and 2 or 3 minutes every night in what I call “silent receptivity.” Just sitting and presenting my silent self to God. To hear, to listen, to receive. Perhaps you’d like to join me in this experiment. 2 or 3 minutes every morning every night. Silently receptive.
Now be forewarned, there’s a danger in getting that quiet, becoming that open to receiving God..because if we “get found” by God, if we enter the fold of God’s loving embrace we just may get “known.”
The psalmist says it two different ways, depending on the translation used. In the more familiar Book of Common Prayer translation the first verse of today’s psalm reads:
“You have searched me out and known me”
In the Common English Bible it reads:
“Lord, you have examined me.
You know me.”
You have examined me and I am known.
Both versions allude to the same thing---when we get settled enough, quiet enough, still enough ---we’ll realize this fundamental fact: No one knows us as well as God. No one sees us as well as God. No one Loves us as well as God.
And while that fact should, in theory, be comforting it is, in reality, somewhat terrifying. God knows us. God examines us. God sees us….fully and completely…not the “Cathy” “Pete” “Debi” “Charlie”… we present to the world….not the one we present to ourselves…No, when we sit still and say, “Here I am God, I’m listening,” we’ll come face to face with the truth of who we are in God’s eyes. The real us. The person God created, the child God adores.
Now, remember this isn’t for the feint of heart--
When we’re truly known, when we accept God into our lives, 100%, our lives will never be the same. Do this and we…each and everyone one of us… will experience fundamental and profound change.
Just like the apostles.
Today and next week our Gospels are stories about Jesus calling the twelve. The come and follow me texts…this week we have John’s version, next week Mark’s. Today we join the story midway through…Jesus has just been baptized and is getting down to the business of calling his closest followers…he’s already called Andrew and Andrew has already gone out and recruited his brother Simon Peter when he turns his sights on Nathanael…
Yes THAT Nathanael the one who has the funniest line in the Bible…”can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Nathanael’s a tough nut to crack, he has skeptic written all over him and no amount of cajoling by Andrew will get him to believe in this Jesus fellow so instead of trying to “sell” him, he just says, Come. See. And so Nathanael goes to see what the big deal is about this crazy preacher man from Galilee. And when he gets there? He discovers that Jesus already knows him. He discovers that Jesus has already sought him out, found him, seen him, examined him and knows the real and true him. Not the sarcastic and skeptical Nathanael but the genuine Nathanael who tells it like it is, doesn’t suffer fools gladly but who will live and die for the faith. Jesus had seen Nathanael, Jesus knew Nathanael and Nathanael, from that moment on, was never ever the same. All because he went, he heard, he saw, he knew and he followed.
Today’s readings are chock full of wonderful sayings and beautiful prose, providing a guidebook to being a faithful servant of the Lord:
Quiet Down.
Open Up
And Get Found
For the God of Love knows us better than we know ourselves
And when we let God in, when we choose to follow Jesus Christ, when we get quiet, still and receptive, we will be found, we will be loved and we will never ever be the same.
Thanks be to God. Amen.
Sunday, January 11, 2015
Baptism of Christ: The sky rips open and the spirit changes everything. Jan 11, 2015
The sky tore open, God’s voice cried out and everything changed.
Happy baptism, Jesus! Don’t let that dove gliding down upon Jesus fool you, His baptism wasn’t a peaceful event. The sky tore open and the voice of God indeed cried out.
Ok, so maybe to those nearby it seemed run of the mill---just another of John’s baptisms….but for Jesus this was something all together different. It says it right there in the Gospel… While he was coming up out of the water, Jesus saw heaven splitting open and the Spirit, like a dove, coming down on him. Now I don’t know if John saw and heard what Jesus did, but he certainly knows that something is different with Jesus’ baptism. “I baptize you with water,” says John, “but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.” Hmm. OK…what the heck does that mean?
Well, John’s baptism was an act that symbolized a change of intention. John’s baptism granted people forgiveness for all they had done up until then and then, as long as they continued to live a God-loving, God-following life they would be granted access to God’s Kingdom. Yes it was a bit of a barter system. You apologize and promise to do good from now on and you get a prize…eternal life.
The baptism of Jesus was something altogether different…
it was all about that sky tearing open and that voice booming from above. And once that happened, once the veil between heaven and earth was dropped and the voice of God spoke, Jesus was ready, anointed as God’s Son and he, who was born full of grace and truth was set to begin a ministry that would change the world forever. Once that sky tore open and once that voice spoke, Jesus was, in effect, unleashed.
No longer was the Kingdom of Heaven something accessible only to the chosen few, the Kingdom of Heaven, the joys of eternal life, the wonder of being part of the Body of Christ here on earth, the gift of the Spirit, grace upon grace, was available to everyone. Always and forever.
John was right, his baptism was a corrective measure, while Jesus’ baptism, the baptism of the Church, was and is a transforming and transfiguring action. Our baptisms serve as the outward and physical sign of our status as beloved children of God.
Now while Jesus was born with a bit of fanfare, and was raised with episodic moments of intrigue and glory…. once he emerged from the waters of the Jordan, there were no more hints, there were no more glimpses…Jesus was ready to accept the mantel the Angel Gabriel had predicted would be his---Jesus, as this day in our church year commemorates was ready to begin the work that he was given to do.
Just like every baptism.
You see when we were baptized we (or our parents and Godparents) committed us to live our lives as Jesus taught. Lives of service, lives of compassion, lives of justice, lives of love. At the moment of our baptism, we are publically committed to being what God created us to be---beloved children working tirelessly to bring the reign of Christ, the Kingdom of heaven to our world.
Our baptism, every baptism unleashes the Spirit in and between each and every one of us. And our job, from that point on forward, is to follow where the Spirit leads us…into the wilderness of the world. Every time we baptize a new member we have one more foot soldier in this effort to tame the darkness of this world with the light of Christ, a light that is ours for the claiming as children of God, children whom God loves dearly and who bring God great joy.
And we need all the companions we can get! Because the reality is, defeating the darkness of This World, the darkness of injustice, the darkness of prejudice, the darkness of hate, is tough work.
This past Tuesday night, when we said goodbye to the building at 16 Linwood, reminded me of the struggle between darkness and light. There were a number of people missing from that grand celebration of what was and what will be----people who, 3 ½ years ago, told us that what we were trying to do at Ascension; offer Eucharistic focused, Trinitarian based worship done in a radically inclusive way at an unusual time and focused more on spreading the light of Christ rather than sticking with the status quo, would never ever work. People called Pete, Mark and me heretics. People who persisted in bringing their darkness of doubt and hate and fear into our midst were, for the most part, missing on Tuesday. There was too much light, too much love and too much faith in that space for them. So they didn’t come. Did our plan for Ascension, and this covenant with Good Shepherd work out like we had anticipated? Nope….but what is happening with our covenant is the work of the Spirit. And the Spirit doesn’t always do what we expect,rather she does what we need. The spirit isn’t always easy to take. The spirit often….always?....takes us into uncomfortable territory. The spirit often….always….pushes us farther than we may think we can go. The spirit often…always….has plans for us that simply weren’t on our bucket list.
But, and this is the thing, the Spirit, the spirit that descended onto Jesus at his baptism, the spirit that infused each and everyone of us at our baptism is always and forever with us. We just need to have courage, to have enough faith to trust that the Spirit will never leave us and then we need to accept the presence, the leanings and the nudging of the Spirit to take us places we never imagined we could go. For when we follow her when we respond to her, the sky tears open and the joy of our Creator God brightens our path and leads us home.
So on this first Sunday in the season of light, Epiphany, on this first Sunday of a new address for Ascension and a new step in our journey as covenant partners, let’s all take a few moments to listen for the Spirit. It may come to us as quietly as a dove, or as raucously as a voice booming from the torn open heavens, but let us listen, let us ponder and then let us follow in faith with thanksgiving. Amen.+
Happy baptism, Jesus! Don’t let that dove gliding down upon Jesus fool you, His baptism wasn’t a peaceful event. The sky tore open and the voice of God indeed cried out.
Ok, so maybe to those nearby it seemed run of the mill---just another of John’s baptisms….but for Jesus this was something all together different. It says it right there in the Gospel… While he was coming up out of the water, Jesus saw heaven splitting open and the Spirit, like a dove, coming down on him. Now I don’t know if John saw and heard what Jesus did, but he certainly knows that something is different with Jesus’ baptism. “I baptize you with water,” says John, “but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.” Hmm. OK…what the heck does that mean?
Well, John’s baptism was an act that symbolized a change of intention. John’s baptism granted people forgiveness for all they had done up until then and then, as long as they continued to live a God-loving, God-following life they would be granted access to God’s Kingdom. Yes it was a bit of a barter system. You apologize and promise to do good from now on and you get a prize…eternal life.
The baptism of Jesus was something altogether different…
it was all about that sky tearing open and that voice booming from above. And once that happened, once the veil between heaven and earth was dropped and the voice of God spoke, Jesus was ready, anointed as God’s Son and he, who was born full of grace and truth was set to begin a ministry that would change the world forever. Once that sky tore open and once that voice spoke, Jesus was, in effect, unleashed.
No longer was the Kingdom of Heaven something accessible only to the chosen few, the Kingdom of Heaven, the joys of eternal life, the wonder of being part of the Body of Christ here on earth, the gift of the Spirit, grace upon grace, was available to everyone. Always and forever.
John was right, his baptism was a corrective measure, while Jesus’ baptism, the baptism of the Church, was and is a transforming and transfiguring action. Our baptisms serve as the outward and physical sign of our status as beloved children of God.
Now while Jesus was born with a bit of fanfare, and was raised with episodic moments of intrigue and glory…. once he emerged from the waters of the Jordan, there were no more hints, there were no more glimpses…Jesus was ready to accept the mantel the Angel Gabriel had predicted would be his---Jesus, as this day in our church year commemorates was ready to begin the work that he was given to do.
Just like every baptism.
You see when we were baptized we (or our parents and Godparents) committed us to live our lives as Jesus taught. Lives of service, lives of compassion, lives of justice, lives of love. At the moment of our baptism, we are publically committed to being what God created us to be---beloved children working tirelessly to bring the reign of Christ, the Kingdom of heaven to our world.
Our baptism, every baptism unleashes the Spirit in and between each and every one of us. And our job, from that point on forward, is to follow where the Spirit leads us…into the wilderness of the world. Every time we baptize a new member we have one more foot soldier in this effort to tame the darkness of this world with the light of Christ, a light that is ours for the claiming as children of God, children whom God loves dearly and who bring God great joy.
And we need all the companions we can get! Because the reality is, defeating the darkness of This World, the darkness of injustice, the darkness of prejudice, the darkness of hate, is tough work.
This past Tuesday night, when we said goodbye to the building at 16 Linwood, reminded me of the struggle between darkness and light. There were a number of people missing from that grand celebration of what was and what will be----people who, 3 ½ years ago, told us that what we were trying to do at Ascension; offer Eucharistic focused, Trinitarian based worship done in a radically inclusive way at an unusual time and focused more on spreading the light of Christ rather than sticking with the status quo, would never ever work. People called Pete, Mark and me heretics. People who persisted in bringing their darkness of doubt and hate and fear into our midst were, for the most part, missing on Tuesday. There was too much light, too much love and too much faith in that space for them. So they didn’t come. Did our plan for Ascension, and this covenant with Good Shepherd work out like we had anticipated? Nope….but what is happening with our covenant is the work of the Spirit. And the Spirit doesn’t always do what we expect,rather she does what we need. The spirit isn’t always easy to take. The spirit often….always?....takes us into uncomfortable territory. The spirit often….always….pushes us farther than we may think we can go. The spirit often…always….has plans for us that simply weren’t on our bucket list.
But, and this is the thing, the Spirit, the spirit that descended onto Jesus at his baptism, the spirit that infused each and everyone of us at our baptism is always and forever with us. We just need to have courage, to have enough faith to trust that the Spirit will never leave us and then we need to accept the presence, the leanings and the nudging of the Spirit to take us places we never imagined we could go. For when we follow her when we respond to her, the sky tears open and the joy of our Creator God brightens our path and leads us home.
So on this first Sunday in the season of light, Epiphany, on this first Sunday of a new address for Ascension and a new step in our journey as covenant partners, let’s all take a few moments to listen for the Spirit. It may come to us as quietly as a dove, or as raucously as a voice booming from the torn open heavens, but let us listen, let us ponder and then let us follow in faith with thanksgiving. Amen.+
Christmas 2 January 4, 2015 Deacon Pete
We revere Mary for many things. For her purity, her faith, and her willingness to say yes. Today I am thinking about how much time she spends on donkeys during our Christmas readings. Now, donkeys are built differently than horses, their legs have no shock absorbers, there is no such thing as a smooth ride on a donkey. And, here she goes again. She has just given birth to our Lord, without modern anesthesia or even aspirin to dull the pain. Nevertheless, when Joseph says it is too dangerous for them to remain in Bethlehem, we don’t hear about her objecting or refusing; no, she saddles up her weakened, fragile body, clasps her infant son to her breast, and rides off to Egypt.
As hard as it is to imagine being Mary, it is just as hard to put ourselves in Joseph’s sandals. Here he is, an older, wiser, established Jewish man; a carpenter, not a rabbi or a temple leader whose specialty is study of the prophecies or experience with angels and visions. And yet, three times now Joseph has been visited by an angel. And more incredulously, three times now Joseph listens and obeys angelic direction. He did not put Mary away and quietly dismiss her, instead he did as the angel said and took her for his wife. Today he moves his wife and newborn son off to Egypt for safe keeping after hearing a warning from an angel in a dream. Then some time later, after yet another dream, Joseph moves his family out of Egypt back to Nazareth. Joseph, a regular guy, not a mystic, not a visionary, not a prophet, not anyone especially religious, allows the Holy Spirit to direct his life and the lives of his family.
Today’s gospel reminds us that life is not always perfect and pretty. In fact life can be ridiculously imperfect, life can be scary and unpredictable. Herod is so frightened by the birth of Jesus that, in verses we don’t read today, he orders the massacre of all male children under the age of two, so he can be sure that this threat to his throne is exterminated. Herod lives in fear, responds out of fear, and eventually dies a fearful death. Herod stands in great contrast to Mary and Joseph who regardless of what is going on in their lives, listen and obey the promptings of their God.
We are at the beginning of a new year. For some of us that is a welcome thought. We are finished with the trials and tribulations of 2014 and eager to wipe the slate clean and to get on with living into whatever 2015 has in store for us. For others of us, the New Year holds anticipation of hard work, loss, fearful new beginnings and perhaps more changes than we are comfortable with.
Good Shepherd begins this year without Marie Hubbard. For the first time since 1919 Marie is not physically a member of this congregation. Her decades of hard work, faithful attendance, financial support, ultimate loyalty and commitment to Good Shepherd have reached an end. We will not see the likes of Marie again, a woman who until recently was never seen out of a skirt and stockings. Our world has changed, family life is different, the demands on womens’ time is such that things like St. Monica’s Guild, fashion shows, and diocesan altar guilds can no longer anchor their lives.
Good Shepherd begins this year as a congregation with an opportunity to model for our diocese, our city and our region what genuine hospitality looks like. Together with the Church of the Ascension we will strive to live in harmony, to display radical welcome to each other and to all those who enter our doors.
Good Shepherd begins this year in a place that is only a few short blocks away from much of the city’s recent gun violence. What does that mean for us? Are there conversations we should be having about what it means to be a faith community living almost blissfully unaware of what our neighbors across Main Street deal with on a daily basis?
Ascension begins this year by celebrating more than165 years of faithful presence on the corner of Linwood and North and saying good-bye to a building that no longer meets our needs and no longer serves our mission. We will sort out our history and our ‘belongings’ over the next few months as we move forward into a “new for us” worship space at 96 Jewett Parkway. Our gratitude toward our covenant partners, the Church of the Good Shepherd, is mixed with sadness and fear, as well as some regret and apprehension.
Ascension begins this year as a congregation with an opportunity to model for our diocese, our city and our region what stepping forward in faith looks like. There are no guarantees that our move to 96 Jewett Parkway is sustainable, and no guarantees that blending two congregations into one physical plant is really possible.
Ascension begins this year with hope that God’s grace will carry us through. It is clear from today’s Gospel that safety and well being are not always found in comfortable, familiar surroundings. It is clear that sometimes, in order to survive, we must move outside conventional boundaries, think unconventional thoughts and pray unconventional prayers. (Shelly Matthews, www.workingpreacher.org)
Like Mary and Joseph, Ascension and Good Shepherd are beginning a journey with no promise that the outcome will be anything we can predict or control. For each other, for our diocese and for our region we can become a place of unexpected welcome. We just might discover that the stranger can be a source of hospitality, we just might experience God working outside well worn paths and far beyond any road we might assume to be safe for traveling. (ibid.)
After all, the birth of Jesus didn’t immediately make the world better. (ibid.) The promise of the incarnation is not that we will have only fair weather, plenty of food for the journey and unbumpy roads; the promise of the incarnation is that right here, right now, always and forever, God is doing something different. (ibid.) Let us pray as Paul did that the eyes of our hearts will have enough light to see God’s call to us and to see the greatness of God’s power working among us. AMEN.
As hard as it is to imagine being Mary, it is just as hard to put ourselves in Joseph’s sandals. Here he is, an older, wiser, established Jewish man; a carpenter, not a rabbi or a temple leader whose specialty is study of the prophecies or experience with angels and visions. And yet, three times now Joseph has been visited by an angel. And more incredulously, three times now Joseph listens and obeys angelic direction. He did not put Mary away and quietly dismiss her, instead he did as the angel said and took her for his wife. Today he moves his wife and newborn son off to Egypt for safe keeping after hearing a warning from an angel in a dream. Then some time later, after yet another dream, Joseph moves his family out of Egypt back to Nazareth. Joseph, a regular guy, not a mystic, not a visionary, not a prophet, not anyone especially religious, allows the Holy Spirit to direct his life and the lives of his family.
Today’s gospel reminds us that life is not always perfect and pretty. In fact life can be ridiculously imperfect, life can be scary and unpredictable. Herod is so frightened by the birth of Jesus that, in verses we don’t read today, he orders the massacre of all male children under the age of two, so he can be sure that this threat to his throne is exterminated. Herod lives in fear, responds out of fear, and eventually dies a fearful death. Herod stands in great contrast to Mary and Joseph who regardless of what is going on in their lives, listen and obey the promptings of their God.
We are at the beginning of a new year. For some of us that is a welcome thought. We are finished with the trials and tribulations of 2014 and eager to wipe the slate clean and to get on with living into whatever 2015 has in store for us. For others of us, the New Year holds anticipation of hard work, loss, fearful new beginnings and perhaps more changes than we are comfortable with.
Good Shepherd begins this year without Marie Hubbard. For the first time since 1919 Marie is not physically a member of this congregation. Her decades of hard work, faithful attendance, financial support, ultimate loyalty and commitment to Good Shepherd have reached an end. We will not see the likes of Marie again, a woman who until recently was never seen out of a skirt and stockings. Our world has changed, family life is different, the demands on womens’ time is such that things like St. Monica’s Guild, fashion shows, and diocesan altar guilds can no longer anchor their lives.
Good Shepherd begins this year as a congregation with an opportunity to model for our diocese, our city and our region what genuine hospitality looks like. Together with the Church of the Ascension we will strive to live in harmony, to display radical welcome to each other and to all those who enter our doors.
Good Shepherd begins this year in a place that is only a few short blocks away from much of the city’s recent gun violence. What does that mean for us? Are there conversations we should be having about what it means to be a faith community living almost blissfully unaware of what our neighbors across Main Street deal with on a daily basis?
Ascension begins this year by celebrating more than165 years of faithful presence on the corner of Linwood and North and saying good-bye to a building that no longer meets our needs and no longer serves our mission. We will sort out our history and our ‘belongings’ over the next few months as we move forward into a “new for us” worship space at 96 Jewett Parkway. Our gratitude toward our covenant partners, the Church of the Good Shepherd, is mixed with sadness and fear, as well as some regret and apprehension.
Ascension begins this year as a congregation with an opportunity to model for our diocese, our city and our region what stepping forward in faith looks like. There are no guarantees that our move to 96 Jewett Parkway is sustainable, and no guarantees that blending two congregations into one physical plant is really possible.
Ascension begins this year with hope that God’s grace will carry us through. It is clear from today’s Gospel that safety and well being are not always found in comfortable, familiar surroundings. It is clear that sometimes, in order to survive, we must move outside conventional boundaries, think unconventional thoughts and pray unconventional prayers. (Shelly Matthews, www.workingpreacher.org)
Like Mary and Joseph, Ascension and Good Shepherd are beginning a journey with no promise that the outcome will be anything we can predict or control. For each other, for our diocese and for our region we can become a place of unexpected welcome. We just might discover that the stranger can be a source of hospitality, we just might experience God working outside well worn paths and far beyond any road we might assume to be safe for traveling. (ibid.)
After all, the birth of Jesus didn’t immediately make the world better. (ibid.) The promise of the incarnation is not that we will have only fair weather, plenty of food for the journey and unbumpy roads; the promise of the incarnation is that right here, right now, always and forever, God is doing something different. (ibid.) Let us pray as Paul did that the eyes of our hearts will have enough light to see God’s call to us and to see the greatness of God’s power working among us. AMEN.
Saturday, January 10, 2015
Marie Hubbard Funeral Homily January 10, 2015
+The hymn before this morning’s Gospel is the iconic Good Shepherd hymn, The King of Love, My Shepherd Is. When I re-read the words in preparation for this morning’s service I realized that this hymn expressed exactly what I wanted to say this morning.
So, as we honor the life of our longest tenured and much beloved member, Marie Hubbard, I’d like to walk though that hymn, one more time, with Marie by my side.
Verse 1
The King of love my shepherd is,
whose goodness faileth never;
I nothing lack if I am his,
and he is mine for ever.
Marie Hubbard had many loves in her life—she had her parents, her siblings, her step-son, her nephews her nieces, her friends, her beloved Checkers. And her Lord. Marie loved her God and Marie’s God, our God, loved her. For ever.
Verse 2:
Where streams of living water flow,
my ransomed soul he leadeth,
and where the verdant pastures grow,
with food celestial feedeth.
A Good Shepherd, a successful shepherd leads her flock toward verdant pastures. A Good Shepherd, a successful shepherd is always on the move, always entering new territory. A Good Shepherd, a successful shepherd knows that to remain stagnant is to die. Marie Hubbard didn’t particularly like change—who does---but she walked through change with grace, class and dignity. Think of how many changes someone who has lived for 95 years endures? The world of 2015 is a much different place than in 1919. The church of 2015 is a much different church than it was in 1919, yet, there was Marie, riding out the changes, accepting them and even, in some cases enjoying them. It’s no secret that she wasn’t thrilled with the prospect of having a woman priest as her rector and yet, after I’d been on the job for a few months when asked what she thought of having a woman priest she said, “well it’s Cathy.” In other words, the concept of a woman priest was something that made her uncomfortable, but the reality of having a relationship with me, was not uncomfortable at all. She didn’t let her anxiety about the different keep her from entering the different because Marie Hubbard knew that to stay put, to not change was to become stagnant, stale and out of touch. And Marie? Well she didn’t believe in stagnant or stale.
Verse 3
Perverse and foolish oft I strayed,
but yet in love he sought me,
and on his shoulder gently laid,
and home, rejoicing, brought me.
Did Marie stray? Oh I’m sure she did. When she was shunned by people here because of her divorce, I’m sure she had some uncharitable thoughts about them. When Pat asked if she could begin attending Good Shepherd after Clyde’s death, I know Marie struggled….but at the end of the day, no matter what the uncomfortable circumstance, Marie was always led back to the peace that one finds in God—she always chose the high road for it is on the high road that the peace of God dwells.
Verse 4
In death’s dark vale I fear no ill
with thee, dear Lord, beside me;
thy rod and staff my comfort still,
thy cross before to guide me.
As Marie’s health declined, especially these last three years, she lost a lot. She gave up driving and all the independence that allowed her. Her cancer treatment of two years ago made her very weak leaving her unable to attend church on any regular basis. She needed more and more help with activities of daily living. Her world shrank and at times she felt discouraged and alone…but then she’d consider others, she’d pull herself up out of her despair to engage us in our lives. I know you all have stories about how Marie would keep up with the world through our lives…just recently as her world was turned upside down with the move to long term care, Marie made sure to inquire about my mother, who had taken quite ill. At our last visit, on Christmas Eve, Marie asked me to wish my mother good health and a Merry Christmas. The dark vale of earthly death was spreading round her, yet still she reached out in love to others.
Verse 5
Thou spread’st a table in my sight;
thy unction grace bestoweth;
and oh, what transport of delight
from thy pure chalice floweth!
On Monday December 29th, around 8 in the evening, Marie Blanche Merrick Hubbard rolled over in her bed and took her final breath. It was as if she closed her eyes and saw the heavenly banquet spread before her and realized that her work here was done and that her place in heaven awaited her. Her chalice indeed was full of delight, and the table of the Lord, was full of grace. She let go and was transported into that place where there is no sorrow, nor sickness, nor tears, but simply grace-filled delight.
As we say farewell to Marie this morning, let us be comforted in these words from the final verse of the hymn:
And so through all the length of days
thy goodness faileth never:
Good Shepherd, may I sing thy praise
within thy house for ever.
Our dear Marie, we know you are singing the praises of The Good Shepherd for all eternity and we know that your goodness, your grace and your love never wavered and never failed. Thank you for what you did for us, thank you for who you were and may light perpetual shine upon you. We will miss you, we love you and we will never ever forget you. Rest in glorious peace and please, along with the Good Shepherd, Jesus Christ, watch over us.
Amen. +
So, as we honor the life of our longest tenured and much beloved member, Marie Hubbard, I’d like to walk though that hymn, one more time, with Marie by my side.
Verse 1
The King of love my shepherd is,
whose goodness faileth never;
I nothing lack if I am his,
and he is mine for ever.
Marie Hubbard had many loves in her life—she had her parents, her siblings, her step-son, her nephews her nieces, her friends, her beloved Checkers. And her Lord. Marie loved her God and Marie’s God, our God, loved her. For ever.
Verse 2:
Where streams of living water flow,
my ransomed soul he leadeth,
and where the verdant pastures grow,
with food celestial feedeth.
A Good Shepherd, a successful shepherd leads her flock toward verdant pastures. A Good Shepherd, a successful shepherd is always on the move, always entering new territory. A Good Shepherd, a successful shepherd knows that to remain stagnant is to die. Marie Hubbard didn’t particularly like change—who does---but she walked through change with grace, class and dignity. Think of how many changes someone who has lived for 95 years endures? The world of 2015 is a much different place than in 1919. The church of 2015 is a much different church than it was in 1919, yet, there was Marie, riding out the changes, accepting them and even, in some cases enjoying them. It’s no secret that she wasn’t thrilled with the prospect of having a woman priest as her rector and yet, after I’d been on the job for a few months when asked what she thought of having a woman priest she said, “well it’s Cathy.” In other words, the concept of a woman priest was something that made her uncomfortable, but the reality of having a relationship with me, was not uncomfortable at all. She didn’t let her anxiety about the different keep her from entering the different because Marie Hubbard knew that to stay put, to not change was to become stagnant, stale and out of touch. And Marie? Well she didn’t believe in stagnant or stale.
Verse 3
Perverse and foolish oft I strayed,
but yet in love he sought me,
and on his shoulder gently laid,
and home, rejoicing, brought me.
Did Marie stray? Oh I’m sure she did. When she was shunned by people here because of her divorce, I’m sure she had some uncharitable thoughts about them. When Pat asked if she could begin attending Good Shepherd after Clyde’s death, I know Marie struggled….but at the end of the day, no matter what the uncomfortable circumstance, Marie was always led back to the peace that one finds in God—she always chose the high road for it is on the high road that the peace of God dwells.
Verse 4
In death’s dark vale I fear no ill
with thee, dear Lord, beside me;
thy rod and staff my comfort still,
thy cross before to guide me.
As Marie’s health declined, especially these last three years, she lost a lot. She gave up driving and all the independence that allowed her. Her cancer treatment of two years ago made her very weak leaving her unable to attend church on any regular basis. She needed more and more help with activities of daily living. Her world shrank and at times she felt discouraged and alone…but then she’d consider others, she’d pull herself up out of her despair to engage us in our lives. I know you all have stories about how Marie would keep up with the world through our lives…just recently as her world was turned upside down with the move to long term care, Marie made sure to inquire about my mother, who had taken quite ill. At our last visit, on Christmas Eve, Marie asked me to wish my mother good health and a Merry Christmas. The dark vale of earthly death was spreading round her, yet still she reached out in love to others.
Verse 5
Thou spread’st a table in my sight;
thy unction grace bestoweth;
and oh, what transport of delight
from thy pure chalice floweth!
On Monday December 29th, around 8 in the evening, Marie Blanche Merrick Hubbard rolled over in her bed and took her final breath. It was as if she closed her eyes and saw the heavenly banquet spread before her and realized that her work here was done and that her place in heaven awaited her. Her chalice indeed was full of delight, and the table of the Lord, was full of grace. She let go and was transported into that place where there is no sorrow, nor sickness, nor tears, but simply grace-filled delight.
As we say farewell to Marie this morning, let us be comforted in these words from the final verse of the hymn:
And so through all the length of days
thy goodness faileth never:
Good Shepherd, may I sing thy praise
within thy house for ever.
Our dear Marie, we know you are singing the praises of The Good Shepherd for all eternity and we know that your goodness, your grace and your love never wavered and never failed. Thank you for what you did for us, thank you for who you were and may light perpetual shine upon you. We will miss you, we love you and we will never ever forget you. Rest in glorious peace and please, along with the Good Shepherd, Jesus Christ, watch over us.
Amen. +
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