+Imagine if someone’s first time in a church was either last week or this? Bodies visibly rising to heaven, tongues of fire, violent wind and some ramble by Jesus about he being in the Father and the Father being in Him!.
Welcome to Christianity—it’s accessible! It’s understandable! Not so much…!
So, I think I need to begin today by laying out the facts of Pentecost and then talking about the reality of it.
First of all, let’s get the Holy Spirit pronoun issue out of the way. In orthodox traditions, of which we are one, The Holy Spirit is referred to in the feminine. This tradition goes back to the time of Jesus but has just recently been resurrected by scholars. It seems some men took offense at women having any type of connection to the Godhead so they replaced the female imagery of the spirit with male.
But, to me, it makes sense that the Spirit be seen as feminine, after all, Jesus is male and God is either no specific gender or is all possible gender identities…who knows…so by referring to the Spirit in the feminine we cover all traditional gender expressions.
Now, onto the name—Pentecost---nothing fancy here, Pentecost simply means the 50th day. Jews have a holiday that predates the Christian Pentecost—it’s called the Feast of Weeks and it commemorates Moses receiving the Torah on Mt Sinai. According to Jewish tradition this commemoration, called Shavu’ot is held 50 days after the first day of Passover. On that first Christian Pentecost, Jerusalem was teeming with people, for Shavu’ot is one of three observances that required the Jews of ancient times to go to Jerusalem and worship in the temple.
So the city was packed and because a crowded city put everyone on edge and an edgy city didn’t bode well for the followers of Jesus, the disciples were hiding, caught between the traditions of their Jewish faith and the bewildering happenings of the previous few weeks—crucifixion, resurrection, ascension and now, today, crazy wind and flames falling from the sky.
As you know, Jesus NEVER does anything by happenstance, so sending the Holy Spirit on this day, at this time, was by design. It was another example of Jesus saying, “this is the new way….the Torah got us this far, but now we have farther to go, we have a different way to try.” And, just as he had promised, Jesus sends us an instrument through which His work of redemption for this world can and will continue.
But, much like the dramatic ascent into heaven of last week, the Holy Spirit, on this last day of the Easter season, on this 50th day, arrives in style, on tongues of fire and in gusts of violent wind.
OK so now we know what to call her and where the name of Pentecost came from and why the disciples were all in one place…but just what or who is the Holy Spirit?
Well she isn’t anything. Or she’s everything.
We can’t see her, but she’s everywhere, we can’t hear her, but she speaks volumes, we can’t touch her, yet we do feel her.
The reality of the Holy Spirit is this: she can’t be explained, she needs to be experienced. She can’t be defined, she needs to be felt, she can’t be corralled, she must be allowed to run free.
Oh and she’s everywhere, all the time…we just need to perceive her.
The scripture writers have tried to give us a story of the Holy Spirit being bestowed upon us, but the truth of the matter is, the Hoy Spirit’s always been here, moving among us, between us, through us.
Always.
But, as is often the case with human beings, we didn’t notice. Not because we’re bad or evil or ignorant, but because, in spite of the fire and wind, for the most part the Holy Spirit is really subtle.
The Holy Spirit is that still small voice whispering deep within us. The voice we can’t hear unless we quiet ourselves enough, still ourselves enough to notice.
The Holy Spirit is that sense of inspiration, acknowledgement or realization that comes when you’ve finally left an issue that’s been bugging you for weeks, behind, when you’ve turned to another task and in the middle of something completely different you have that “eureka” moment.
The Holy Spirit is when everything falls apart and we’re angry, lost, sad, hopeless, confused and then, days later, months later, years later, we realize that if we hadn’t experienced that loss—the loss that felt overwhelmingly painful at the moment---we never would have experienced the joy of something altogether unexpected and new.
The Holy Spirit is when a group of people decide to tackle a problem---hunger, as witnessed by your food pantry; failing schools as witnessed by the diocesan Jim Eaton Summer Reading Program; the challenges of Juvenile diabetes as witnessed by your Sunday School donating some of the proceeds of your Bake sale to JDRF and FOTOS.
The Holy Spirit moves among us and gives us the courage to do what we never thought we could. The Holy Spirit moves among us and gives us the audacity to do the things other people are shocked that we will actually do.
The gift of the Holy Spirit may not have a cute birth story or a miraculous resurrection tale attached to it like Christmas and Easter. The Holy Spirit may not be describable or definable, but the Holy Spirit can be experienced and, my friends, we must do everything in our power to experience her.
The Holy Spirit is God’s gift to us, she’s the whisper in our ear, the shout in our heart, the hope in our soul. She’¬¬s the nudge that leads us places we never thought we could go, she’s the detour that feels frightening but ends up being enlightening.
The Holy Spirit is the love we feel for one another.
The Holy Spirit is the hope we share with the world.
The Holy Spirit is the frustration we feel with the status quo, the anger we feel with injustice, the disgust we feel with evil.
The Holy Spirit is our conscience, our longing, our passion.
The Holy Spirit is here. Welcome the Spirit, and like so many who have walked before us, let the Spirit take us where we absolutely positively must go.
Amen.
Sunday, May 22, 2016
Saturday, May 14, 2016
A Eulogy for Scout
In April of 2004 I moved into a house with a large, fenced in backyard. At the time I tele-commuted so it seemed the perfect time to get a dog. I’d had cats for most of my adult life but the truth of the matter was, I’m a dog person. I just hadn’t had the lifestyle that afforded me the opportunity to have a dog. Now I did. So I began to look on Petfinder for a dog. I figured I would look for a dachshund, as I had grown up with dachshunds.
So I find this dog. Well actually, I saw this face…this classically hound face….a face that I would have sworn belonged to a dachshund….a face that was actually attached to what Petfinder said was a “hound mix,” my vet at the time insisted Viszla, and my own research and living with her for 12 years which determined that she was indeed a coonhound of the redbone variety crossed with Rhodesian Ridgeback.
What she wasn’t was a dachshund.
But she was so beautiful.
So Suzanne, Robin and I trekked out to the Genesee Animal Shelter to meet Maisy (that was her pound name) . As we took that walk so many of you are familiar with---down the concrete halls lined with cages, there was a great cacophony of barking and whimpering. In the cage marked Maisy was that sweet hound, not making a sound, sitting kind of hang dog in the center of the pen. I greeted her and she stood up, wiggled the wiggle that became her trademark and leaned against me at the front of the cage. MaisyScout had chosen me. And at that moment, I was rescued.
There was paperwork involved and she needed one more round of vaccinations, so we had two choices…she could be picked up during regular business hours on Wednesday (April 28) or the next Saturday. Having pesky day jobs, neither Robin nor I could go to Batavia on Wednesday. BUT SUZANNE COULD! And did.
I don’t think either of us will ever forget when Scout first saw her backyard. She ran and she ran and she ran the loop of the yard. Fast. Furious and with wild abandon.
She was, after four other homes in 9 months of life, home.
There is a lot to learn when you grew up with short dogs only to find yourself with a tall and very agile dog. Many loaves of bread, boxes of cookies, sandwiches and in one epic case, a pan of brownies later, we all learned about counter surfing and never again was anything we didn’t want eaten, nosed, moved and or knocked over (think a toaster in the middle of the living room) left on a kitchen counter.
Or, for that matter, a bedside table (someday ask my mom about the mouth-guard she wore. Wore is the operative, past-tense word. Did you know those cost $500?).
She could find anything with the combination of her nose and her determination (and those opposable thumbs we KNOW she kept in the pockets we never found)
She was a terror.
She was wild.
She was stubborn.
She got expelled from Canine Academy where she was having “puppy classes.”
We hired a private dog trainer. Paul Burger. What a wonderful man. And what a smart student Scout was. She caught on way faster than I did. But after a couple of months, we graduated.
And then we got down to the business of living and being a family.
Scout learned a lot from her Uncle Timber. She adored her Aunt Suzanne and she was the mayor of Parkside.
We went to baseball games where she ate hotdogs, made friends and was terrified of a stuffed gorilla.
We traveled to Wisconsin every summer. She loved staying in hotels along the way. She loved rest stops and travel plazas.
She loved her Aunt Anne, her Uncle Mark and Alyssa. She especially loved our nephew David. They were inseparable whenever we were in Wisconsin. David gave her the very best nickname ever---Scoot Loops.
She harassed Alyssa’s dog Adam. Adam hated to swim. Scout loved to swim. So they swam. Scout DRAGGING Adam into the water…..
Alyssa was very patient with all of that. When Adam died, Scout did her best, when we visited, to hang with Alyssa. Alyssa was one of Scout’s favorite people. Along with her Uncle Mark and her Aunt Anne. They all, including Oliver, were with her the last week of her life.
Although Robin and I adopted Scout together, there was never any doubt that Scout was my girl and that I was hers.
Every morning, Scout and I would rub heads. She loved to have me rub my face across hers and into the scruff of her neck. As she lay dying, I did that one last time. Not for her, but for me. You see, that’s how it was with Scout. She truly did rescue me. She saw me through so many things---changes in relationships, changes in jobs, changes in careers. She helped me through seminary, she listened to COUNTLESS sermons.
And then, on that Monday afternoon in October of 2010,when the phone rang with the news that I had cancer, Scout got up from her throne---I mean chair----and walked up to where I was standing and sat on my foot. When I hung up the phone, I sat right down next to her and she held me. She never stopped holding me. Through diagnosis (and many many many trips to Roswell), surgery and active treatment this dog who never ever slept in my bed, slept with me, walked with me, snuggled with me, guarded me----oh my did she guard me!----until one day, toward the end of 2011, she eased back a bit. She no longer slept with me. And I knew I was cured.
And I was.
When I met Pete and she came to the house for the first time, Scout LOVED her. There was no hesitation, no “checking her out,” it was immediate and total acceptance. And suddenly Scout knew that she could ease back even more. Because Scout knew I was going to be ok. It wasn’t long after Pete and I got married that the first signs of Scout’s illness began to show. She slowed way down, she developed visible benign tumors and it seemed clear that she was becoming our good OL’ girl. We had a good year with her just slowing down ever so gradually---she still loved chasing whatever she could find up at the ranch, she still took off on her “walkabouts,” returning filthy dirty with a gigantic smile on her face, but she was losing weight so we knew something was wrong. In the summer of 2014 she had surgery to remove a number of the tumors and we were told that she had a tumor on her liver and that eventually either her liver would fail or a tumor would burst. What we knew is that she wasn’t going to get out of it alive. And so began the #DyingMyAss tour. It was two years of great living, interspersed with lots of expert love and attention by Colleen, Scamp, Dr Garafalo and Dr Nellis, but finally, on the 25th of March 2016 our princess, our Scooters, our Scoot Loops, our Jean Louise Scout Dempesy-Sims couldn’t do it anymore. And we said good-bye.
What some of you already know is this---after she breathed her last, Dr G asked Pete if it would be ok for the folks who worked at ESAH to say good-bye to her. So one by one, with Dr Garafalo standing at the door, vet techs, aides and the office staff came into the room to kiss Scout good-bye. She had a lot of human friends. They loved her. And that is something we will never forget.
Speaking of friends---Scout had a lot of dog friends….Uncle Timber, Jack, Molson. And she helped raise her share of puppy friends---Milo and Cowboy. She had her sister, Hari and her brother Cooper. After Hari died Scout got her very own in house puppy, Louie…and we found out what a wondrous mother she could be. And of course there was her best friend, her pal, her running mate (thank you Dash Dog Running—Chris and Amanda Muldoon!!) and her cousin, Yodel Watson Taylor. Scout and Yodel were friends from the moment they met. And I guess it makes sense that they died so close together….life in this world without the two of them together, just wasn’t going to work, so they are together again, young, healthy and without a care in the world….they rescued us and now God has rescued them from their ailments and their challenges, to run free, to play hard and to keep dog heaven running as smoothly as a Swiss watch. No matter when they left us it would have been too soon, this we know, but somehow, some way we long for just one more day. So hug your pets. Love those who love you and never ever forget to stop and give someone a wiggle.
Thank you for being here, for loving Scout and Yodel and for loving us, Suzanne, Pete and me. Amen.
Thank you, Creator God for the gift of pets: for dogs and cats, donkeys and goats. For all makes and manner of creatures we give you thanks.
We ask your healing to those pets who have been neglected and abused, we ask your soothing presence in the hearts of us who have loved and lost our pets, especially those we now name:
Heal our broken hearts and, in good time, bring to us other pets who need us as much as we need them.
Amen.
So I find this dog. Well actually, I saw this face…this classically hound face….a face that I would have sworn belonged to a dachshund….a face that was actually attached to what Petfinder said was a “hound mix,” my vet at the time insisted Viszla, and my own research and living with her for 12 years which determined that she was indeed a coonhound of the redbone variety crossed with Rhodesian Ridgeback.
What she wasn’t was a dachshund.
But she was so beautiful.
So Suzanne, Robin and I trekked out to the Genesee Animal Shelter to meet Maisy (that was her pound name) . As we took that walk so many of you are familiar with---down the concrete halls lined with cages, there was a great cacophony of barking and whimpering. In the cage marked Maisy was that sweet hound, not making a sound, sitting kind of hang dog in the center of the pen. I greeted her and she stood up, wiggled the wiggle that became her trademark and leaned against me at the front of the cage. MaisyScout had chosen me. And at that moment, I was rescued.
There was paperwork involved and she needed one more round of vaccinations, so we had two choices…she could be picked up during regular business hours on Wednesday (April 28) or the next Saturday. Having pesky day jobs, neither Robin nor I could go to Batavia on Wednesday. BUT SUZANNE COULD! And did.
I don’t think either of us will ever forget when Scout first saw her backyard. She ran and she ran and she ran the loop of the yard. Fast. Furious and with wild abandon.
She was, after four other homes in 9 months of life, home.
There is a lot to learn when you grew up with short dogs only to find yourself with a tall and very agile dog. Many loaves of bread, boxes of cookies, sandwiches and in one epic case, a pan of brownies later, we all learned about counter surfing and never again was anything we didn’t want eaten, nosed, moved and or knocked over (think a toaster in the middle of the living room) left on a kitchen counter.
Or, for that matter, a bedside table (someday ask my mom about the mouth-guard she wore. Wore is the operative, past-tense word. Did you know those cost $500?).
She could find anything with the combination of her nose and her determination (and those opposable thumbs we KNOW she kept in the pockets we never found)
She was a terror.
She was wild.
She was stubborn.
She got expelled from Canine Academy where she was having “puppy classes.”
We hired a private dog trainer. Paul Burger. What a wonderful man. And what a smart student Scout was. She caught on way faster than I did. But after a couple of months, we graduated.
And then we got down to the business of living and being a family.
Scout learned a lot from her Uncle Timber. She adored her Aunt Suzanne and she was the mayor of Parkside.
We went to baseball games where she ate hotdogs, made friends and was terrified of a stuffed gorilla.
We traveled to Wisconsin every summer. She loved staying in hotels along the way. She loved rest stops and travel plazas.
She loved her Aunt Anne, her Uncle Mark and Alyssa. She especially loved our nephew David. They were inseparable whenever we were in Wisconsin. David gave her the very best nickname ever---Scoot Loops.
She harassed Alyssa’s dog Adam. Adam hated to swim. Scout loved to swim. So they swam. Scout DRAGGING Adam into the water…..
Alyssa was very patient with all of that. When Adam died, Scout did her best, when we visited, to hang with Alyssa. Alyssa was one of Scout’s favorite people. Along with her Uncle Mark and her Aunt Anne. They all, including Oliver, were with her the last week of her life.
Although Robin and I adopted Scout together, there was never any doubt that Scout was my girl and that I was hers.
Every morning, Scout and I would rub heads. She loved to have me rub my face across hers and into the scruff of her neck. As she lay dying, I did that one last time. Not for her, but for me. You see, that’s how it was with Scout. She truly did rescue me. She saw me through so many things---changes in relationships, changes in jobs, changes in careers. She helped me through seminary, she listened to COUNTLESS sermons.
And then, on that Monday afternoon in October of 2010,when the phone rang with the news that I had cancer, Scout got up from her throne---I mean chair----and walked up to where I was standing and sat on my foot. When I hung up the phone, I sat right down next to her and she held me. She never stopped holding me. Through diagnosis (and many many many trips to Roswell), surgery and active treatment this dog who never ever slept in my bed, slept with me, walked with me, snuggled with me, guarded me----oh my did she guard me!----until one day, toward the end of 2011, she eased back a bit. She no longer slept with me. And I knew I was cured.
And I was.
When I met Pete and she came to the house for the first time, Scout LOVED her. There was no hesitation, no “checking her out,” it was immediate and total acceptance. And suddenly Scout knew that she could ease back even more. Because Scout knew I was going to be ok. It wasn’t long after Pete and I got married that the first signs of Scout’s illness began to show. She slowed way down, she developed visible benign tumors and it seemed clear that she was becoming our good OL’ girl. We had a good year with her just slowing down ever so gradually---she still loved chasing whatever she could find up at the ranch, she still took off on her “walkabouts,” returning filthy dirty with a gigantic smile on her face, but she was losing weight so we knew something was wrong. In the summer of 2014 she had surgery to remove a number of the tumors and we were told that she had a tumor on her liver and that eventually either her liver would fail or a tumor would burst. What we knew is that she wasn’t going to get out of it alive. And so began the #DyingMyAss tour. It was two years of great living, interspersed with lots of expert love and attention by Colleen, Scamp, Dr Garafalo and Dr Nellis, but finally, on the 25th of March 2016 our princess, our Scooters, our Scoot Loops, our Jean Louise Scout Dempesy-Sims couldn’t do it anymore. And we said good-bye.
What some of you already know is this---after she breathed her last, Dr G asked Pete if it would be ok for the folks who worked at ESAH to say good-bye to her. So one by one, with Dr Garafalo standing at the door, vet techs, aides and the office staff came into the room to kiss Scout good-bye. She had a lot of human friends. They loved her. And that is something we will never forget.
Speaking of friends---Scout had a lot of dog friends….Uncle Timber, Jack, Molson. And she helped raise her share of puppy friends---Milo and Cowboy. She had her sister, Hari and her brother Cooper. After Hari died Scout got her very own in house puppy, Louie…and we found out what a wondrous mother she could be. And of course there was her best friend, her pal, her running mate (thank you Dash Dog Running—Chris and Amanda Muldoon!!) and her cousin, Yodel Watson Taylor. Scout and Yodel were friends from the moment they met. And I guess it makes sense that they died so close together….life in this world without the two of them together, just wasn’t going to work, so they are together again, young, healthy and without a care in the world….they rescued us and now God has rescued them from their ailments and their challenges, to run free, to play hard and to keep dog heaven running as smoothly as a Swiss watch. No matter when they left us it would have been too soon, this we know, but somehow, some way we long for just one more day. So hug your pets. Love those who love you and never ever forget to stop and give someone a wiggle.
Thank you for being here, for loving Scout and Yodel and for loving us, Suzanne, Pete and me. Amen.
Thank you, Creator God for the gift of pets: for dogs and cats, donkeys and goats. For all makes and manner of creatures we give you thanks.
We ask your healing to those pets who have been neglected and abused, we ask your soothing presence in the hearts of us who have loved and lost our pets, especially those we now name:
Heal our broken hearts and, in good time, bring to us other pets who need us as much as we need them.
Amen.
Sunday, May 8, 2016
Pray Easter 7 St Paul’s Stafford/St. Mark’s Leroy 8 May 2016
+Today’s reading from John’s Gospel is the end of what’s known as Jesus’ Farewell Discourse, a long series of statements Jesus makes to his disciples on the night before his crucifixion. We’ve read from this discourse for these last several weeks of Easter.
It’s a bit confusing and disconcerting---here we are, shouting Alleluia, rejoicing in the wonder of the empty tomb for these Great 50 Days only to have our Gospel readings take us back to that sorrowful night during the first Holy Week.
And we’re reading these selections at the tail end of the Easter season, during one of the oddest ten day stretches in the entire church year. You see, this past Thursday was the Ascension of the Lord…when Jesus says good-bye to his disciples yet tells them to stay put and wait, help is on the way. So the disciples do as they are told (for once) and just stay put, looking somewhat slack jawed up to the heavens as Jesus ascends, waiting for something more to happen. And so here we are---no longer reveling in the empty tomb and also not yet rejoicing in the gift of the Holy Spirit. We, like the disciples before us stand a bit slack jawed as we linger betwixt and between endings, and beginnings, “hurry up and wait,” and not quite yet.
Where are we and what in the world are we supposed to do? Although our Gospel reading is taken from the night before Jesus’ crucifixion it’s all about what will come---the resurrection, the ascension, the coming of the Holy Spirit and the steady walk toward the coming of God’s reign in this world, on that day when, as Jesus says, we’ll all be one. The world outlined in the reading from Revelation---a world which is, according to John is “coming soon,” a world where all those who desire the water of life will be washed in it, where everyone who thirsts for justice and righteousness will be quenched, a world to which we are invited by the Holy and Undivided Trinity, One God: come they say, come and enter through the gates, take your seat and be refreshed. So today we’re looking behind; remembering the pain and terror, the sadness and grief of Holy Week, and we’re looking ahead to the New Jerusalem, to the promise of eternal life where sorrow and pain are no more, neither sighing but life everlasting. And in the midst of this looking ahead and looking behind, of thinking about what was and what will be, Jesus gathers us, much like a mother bird gathers her brood under her wings, and prays for us.
Prayer is an amazing, powerful, mysterious and incredible thing.
Five years ago I experienced a health crisis and as a result lots and lots of people were praying for me. Now, I am a priest and as such I am a big proponent of prayer. I highly recommend it and for years----even before I was a priest---I spoke glowingly about the power of prayer. I had certainly done my share of praying and I intellectually knew that research shows and people repeatedly speak about the power, the effectiveness, of prayer. But truly, it wasn’t until I was the recipient of extensive, intensive, pointed prayer that I understood---really felt deep in my bones, my heart and my soul---the power of prayer. I was, and remain incredibly humbled by my prayer warriors and have seen again and again and again that same intentional intercessory prayer work absolute wonders for others. Prayer works.
Not only does prayer work, prayer is, in my opinion, not optional for any of us who long for that New Jerusalem described in Revelation or that world where we all—everyone everywhere—will be one as Jesus prayed for in the Gospel. Now maybe this sounds ridiculous, that I’m stating the obvious, but hear me out. My charge to you, each and every one of you here today, is to pray.
Diligently, regularly. And not just for those you know but especially for those you don’t.
Pray for peace and for wisdom the world’s leaders is always good. Praying for our planet, praying for seasonable weather and successful crops, all very important.
It’s also important to pray for our enemies. And that? That’s really hard. But it’s important. Pray for your enemies.
It’s also important to pray for this, your church, and for your priest, and your vestry and wardens. And pray for St Mark’s (St Paul’s). And please. Please pray for our diocese, pray for me, pray for Bishop Bill. Pray that all 58 of the churches in this diocese will live into the task that has been given to us. To be the hands and feet, the eyes and ears of Christ in this world and to seek and serve Christ in all whom we meet. The stronger we are as a diocese, the more work we can do for our Lord.
On the night before he died, our Lord prayed for his friends, he prayed for the world and he prayed for us. Today as our focus moves from the empty tomb to being the church in the world, let us pray for him, let us pray with him. For through prayer, the world is changed. Amen.
It’s a bit confusing and disconcerting---here we are, shouting Alleluia, rejoicing in the wonder of the empty tomb for these Great 50 Days only to have our Gospel readings take us back to that sorrowful night during the first Holy Week.
And we’re reading these selections at the tail end of the Easter season, during one of the oddest ten day stretches in the entire church year. You see, this past Thursday was the Ascension of the Lord…when Jesus says good-bye to his disciples yet tells them to stay put and wait, help is on the way. So the disciples do as they are told (for once) and just stay put, looking somewhat slack jawed up to the heavens as Jesus ascends, waiting for something more to happen. And so here we are---no longer reveling in the empty tomb and also not yet rejoicing in the gift of the Holy Spirit. We, like the disciples before us stand a bit slack jawed as we linger betwixt and between endings, and beginnings, “hurry up and wait,” and not quite yet.
Where are we and what in the world are we supposed to do? Although our Gospel reading is taken from the night before Jesus’ crucifixion it’s all about what will come---the resurrection, the ascension, the coming of the Holy Spirit and the steady walk toward the coming of God’s reign in this world, on that day when, as Jesus says, we’ll all be one. The world outlined in the reading from Revelation---a world which is, according to John is “coming soon,” a world where all those who desire the water of life will be washed in it, where everyone who thirsts for justice and righteousness will be quenched, a world to which we are invited by the Holy and Undivided Trinity, One God: come they say, come and enter through the gates, take your seat and be refreshed. So today we’re looking behind; remembering the pain and terror, the sadness and grief of Holy Week, and we’re looking ahead to the New Jerusalem, to the promise of eternal life where sorrow and pain are no more, neither sighing but life everlasting. And in the midst of this looking ahead and looking behind, of thinking about what was and what will be, Jesus gathers us, much like a mother bird gathers her brood under her wings, and prays for us.
Prayer is an amazing, powerful, mysterious and incredible thing.
Five years ago I experienced a health crisis and as a result lots and lots of people were praying for me. Now, I am a priest and as such I am a big proponent of prayer. I highly recommend it and for years----even before I was a priest---I spoke glowingly about the power of prayer. I had certainly done my share of praying and I intellectually knew that research shows and people repeatedly speak about the power, the effectiveness, of prayer. But truly, it wasn’t until I was the recipient of extensive, intensive, pointed prayer that I understood---really felt deep in my bones, my heart and my soul---the power of prayer. I was, and remain incredibly humbled by my prayer warriors and have seen again and again and again that same intentional intercessory prayer work absolute wonders for others. Prayer works.
Not only does prayer work, prayer is, in my opinion, not optional for any of us who long for that New Jerusalem described in Revelation or that world where we all—everyone everywhere—will be one as Jesus prayed for in the Gospel. Now maybe this sounds ridiculous, that I’m stating the obvious, but hear me out. My charge to you, each and every one of you here today, is to pray.
Diligently, regularly. And not just for those you know but especially for those you don’t.
Pray for peace and for wisdom the world’s leaders is always good. Praying for our planet, praying for seasonable weather and successful crops, all very important.
It’s also important to pray for our enemies. And that? That’s really hard. But it’s important. Pray for your enemies.
It’s also important to pray for this, your church, and for your priest, and your vestry and wardens. And pray for St Mark’s (St Paul’s). And please. Please pray for our diocese, pray for me, pray for Bishop Bill. Pray that all 58 of the churches in this diocese will live into the task that has been given to us. To be the hands and feet, the eyes and ears of Christ in this world and to seek and serve Christ in all whom we meet. The stronger we are as a diocese, the more work we can do for our Lord.
On the night before he died, our Lord prayed for his friends, he prayed for the world and he prayed for us. Today as our focus moves from the empty tomb to being the church in the world, let us pray for him, let us pray with him. For through prayer, the world is changed. Amen.
Sunday, May 1, 2016
The Peace of God Spins the Web of Grace St Peter’s Westfield, May 1 2016 Easter 6
Peace I leave with you, my peace I give to you
+I’m so happy to be with you this morning. I thank Virginia for the invitation, you for your welcome, and Bishop Bill for creating this job of the Canon for Connections. Because it is this job of mine which allows me to travel around the diocese meeting people, speaking with them and hopefully connecting them in and through the Bishop’s web of grace. For those of you who don’t know, “the web of grace” is an interweaving, intertwined system of connections that strengthens us as a diocese and as a witness to the world around us, bringing grace, hope, love and peace to a world that so sorely needs it.
My friend Rick Morley , who is an Episcopal priest, an author and a poet, is someone who understands just how desperately this world of ours needs to hear and more importantly see the Web of Grace in action. In 2013 he wrote a beautiful reflection on today’s Gospel, and I will quote it heavily in this homily. (a peace of marvel – a reflection on John 14:27
April 26, 2013 accessed through rickmorley.com on April 29, 2016)
In this morning’s reading from John, as Jesus is in the midst of his farewell discourse to his friends---you remember it’s a set of very poignant statements Jesus makes on the night before his crucifixion--- he utters these iconic words: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.”
Of course, as always with the disciples, they have no idea what he’s talking about.
I get their confusion. After all Jesus is telling them that he’ll be gone, but that he’ll never leave them. He’s telling them that the world won’t know a thing about him…except….until…only if they tell the world. That everything he’s taught them over the course of the past three years will signify absolutely nothing unless and until and only if they, his friends, his followers, his students, his disciples share what they have experienced, with others.
And while Jesus is speaking directly to his disciples in this Gospel he is, of course, also speaking to us.
He’s telling us that his peace---a peace which surpasses all understanding---is ours. Yours, and mine and everyone’s. Always. And forever.
He’s telling us that he knows our hearts get troubled, that our hearts become afraid …BUT he says, do not worry for His grace. His love, His peace is ours. That we receive this peace when we do as he has taught us: by reaching out to the other, by searching for the lost, by loving the hated, the despised and the thrown away. We receive this peace when we live as he lived.
All of this has been given to us, not to horde, not to hide and not to ignore. It’s been given to us to share.
And my goodness, does this world need it.
It’s my prayer and I trust it’s yours, that we, each and everyone of us will be strengthened through the fellowship of Christ, emboldened through the nourishment given at this altar, inspired by the worship offered here, to go out into the world and show all those whom we encounter, this peace.
Particularly now . With hatred being spewed across our airways in one of the most nasty election seasons in our memory, with gun violence ripping apart cities, small towns, villages, neighborhoods and families, with an uncertain darkness which seems to pervade our world, resulting in terrorist attacks of unspeakable horror.
The good news is, help is here, help has always been here. Help comes to us through Jesus Christ, who, on the night before his death brought his disciples the same help that is available to us, here and now.
Peace. His peace.
Not the world’s peace. Jesus doesn’t bring that sort of thing.
No, Jesus brings the shalom of God, where everything is good and right. Where everything is in it’s place, and where there are no dark corners to shelter evil from the warm glow of God’s pure light. The kind of peace that walks on water, that stills the storm, and fills our jars to the brim with the finest of wines. The kind of peace that brings sight to the blind, restores hearing to the deaf, and tells the lame to get up and walk.
The kind of peace that comes to a tomb and renders it empty.
That kind of peace.
Where hearts never need be troubled—for what could ever cause such a stir in the presence of God’s Shalom?
Where there is nothing to fear. Nothing.
The kind of peace that bombs and storms and cancer and injustice and terrorists and dissidents and lobbyists and weapons of mass destruction and dark hairy beasts which go bump in the night—where none of those things which usher in the valley of the shadow of death can usher in even an ounce of fear.
Because there is no oxygen for fear to breathe. No room for fear to move. No water for fear to swim in.
Because the peace of Jesus has soaked us to the bone, and nothing can wring it out.
That’s what Jesus brings. To us.
And so let us marvel. Let us savor. And let us make it our mission to continue his mission, and take this peace—which passes all understanding—to the ends of the earth. And to the inner chambers of our hearts.
For when we do that, the web of grace will once and for all be complete. And to that we all can say,
Amen and Alleluia.
+I’m so happy to be with you this morning. I thank Virginia for the invitation, you for your welcome, and Bishop Bill for creating this job of the Canon for Connections. Because it is this job of mine which allows me to travel around the diocese meeting people, speaking with them and hopefully connecting them in and through the Bishop’s web of grace. For those of you who don’t know, “the web of grace” is an interweaving, intertwined system of connections that strengthens us as a diocese and as a witness to the world around us, bringing grace, hope, love and peace to a world that so sorely needs it.
My friend Rick Morley , who is an Episcopal priest, an author and a poet, is someone who understands just how desperately this world of ours needs to hear and more importantly see the Web of Grace in action. In 2013 he wrote a beautiful reflection on today’s Gospel, and I will quote it heavily in this homily. (a peace of marvel – a reflection on John 14:27
April 26, 2013 accessed through rickmorley.com on April 29, 2016)
In this morning’s reading from John, as Jesus is in the midst of his farewell discourse to his friends---you remember it’s a set of very poignant statements Jesus makes on the night before his crucifixion--- he utters these iconic words: “Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled, and do not let them be afraid.”
Of course, as always with the disciples, they have no idea what he’s talking about.
I get their confusion. After all Jesus is telling them that he’ll be gone, but that he’ll never leave them. He’s telling them that the world won’t know a thing about him…except….until…only if they tell the world. That everything he’s taught them over the course of the past three years will signify absolutely nothing unless and until and only if they, his friends, his followers, his students, his disciples share what they have experienced, with others.
And while Jesus is speaking directly to his disciples in this Gospel he is, of course, also speaking to us.
He’s telling us that his peace---a peace which surpasses all understanding---is ours. Yours, and mine and everyone’s. Always. And forever.
He’s telling us that he knows our hearts get troubled, that our hearts become afraid …BUT he says, do not worry for His grace. His love, His peace is ours. That we receive this peace when we do as he has taught us: by reaching out to the other, by searching for the lost, by loving the hated, the despised and the thrown away. We receive this peace when we live as he lived.
All of this has been given to us, not to horde, not to hide and not to ignore. It’s been given to us to share.
And my goodness, does this world need it.
It’s my prayer and I trust it’s yours, that we, each and everyone of us will be strengthened through the fellowship of Christ, emboldened through the nourishment given at this altar, inspired by the worship offered here, to go out into the world and show all those whom we encounter, this peace.
Particularly now . With hatred being spewed across our airways in one of the most nasty election seasons in our memory, with gun violence ripping apart cities, small towns, villages, neighborhoods and families, with an uncertain darkness which seems to pervade our world, resulting in terrorist attacks of unspeakable horror.
The good news is, help is here, help has always been here. Help comes to us through Jesus Christ, who, on the night before his death brought his disciples the same help that is available to us, here and now.
Peace. His peace.
Not the world’s peace. Jesus doesn’t bring that sort of thing.
No, Jesus brings the shalom of God, where everything is good and right. Where everything is in it’s place, and where there are no dark corners to shelter evil from the warm glow of God’s pure light. The kind of peace that walks on water, that stills the storm, and fills our jars to the brim with the finest of wines. The kind of peace that brings sight to the blind, restores hearing to the deaf, and tells the lame to get up and walk.
The kind of peace that comes to a tomb and renders it empty.
That kind of peace.
Where hearts never need be troubled—for what could ever cause such a stir in the presence of God’s Shalom?
Where there is nothing to fear. Nothing.
The kind of peace that bombs and storms and cancer and injustice and terrorists and dissidents and lobbyists and weapons of mass destruction and dark hairy beasts which go bump in the night—where none of those things which usher in the valley of the shadow of death can usher in even an ounce of fear.
Because there is no oxygen for fear to breathe. No room for fear to move. No water for fear to swim in.
Because the peace of Jesus has soaked us to the bone, and nothing can wring it out.
That’s what Jesus brings. To us.
And so let us marvel. Let us savor. And let us make it our mission to continue his mission, and take this peace—which passes all understanding—to the ends of the earth. And to the inner chambers of our hearts.
For when we do that, the web of grace will once and for all be complete. And to that we all can say,
Amen and Alleluia.
Sunday, April 17, 2016
Easter 4 A Baptism Love Letter St Patrick's Cheektowaga, April 17, 2016
+Good morning, I’d like to thank Karen for her kind invitation to be with you today. I’m especially happy to be here on a day when, at 10 am, we’ll baptize Gemma Lyn Cleveland. Baptisms are great because it is in and through our baptisms that we are linked, marked and sealed as Christ’s own forever. And, such a day is a wonderful opportunity to consider our ministries as Christian people. For although the church sets aside certain people for discreet ministries—deacons, priests and bishops--- the singular most important ministers in the church are her baptized members…the laity…. all of you. For without the community of the baptized, we have no church. So, when we have a baptism in a parish we rejoice, for through baptism we are strengthened as individuals and as congregations. Therefore today, is a GREAT day.
As a parish priest my tradition, on baptism days, was for the sermon to be in the form of a letter to the baptized. I do this, not because I think 3 month old Gemma will remember what I say, but to remind us of the promises God, our Godparents and parents, church family and friends made to us at our baptisms; because the Body of Christ in this world is fueled by us, the baptized beloved of God. And reminders of this always helpful.
Dear Gemma,
God is smiling today. Nothing makes God happier than a baptism, for on a baptism day everyone is smiling! Your parents and Godparents are thrilled for you, this, your new church family is happy for you, all the friends and family here today are rejoicing. It’s a great day as we welcome you to the family, Gemma. Today we promise to pray for you for the rest of your life. Today we promise to be there for you, come what may. Today we promise to protect you, to encourage you, to support you and to love you. Forever.
And God? Well, God promises to make sure that the Good Shepherd, Jesus Christ himself will do everything EVERYTHING to protect from danger, to find you if you are lost, to untangle you from any sticky situation and to always, always, welcome you home.
On this day, as Pastor Karen pours the holy water of God over your head, as she looks into your eyes with love and hope, saying those words that never fail to make me cry: “Gemma Lyn I baptize you in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, you will be changed…and so will all of us.
You’ll be changed because on this day, and for every single day from now on, you’ll know that you are God’s beloved child. Of course, you’ve been God’s beloved child since the moment of your birth, but on this day God, through all of us, let’s you know that this Love, the love that surpasses all other love, is yours. Always and forever.
Because this is the whole point—God’s love is yours, it’s mine, it’s ours it is everyone’s ----now and forever. No exceptions.
God is so thrilled by this, God has given us the greatest Love poem of all time to mark the occasion---
The 23rd Psalm.
The Lord is my shepherd….HONEST! God will always be there for you, Gemma. Always.
He makes me lie down in green pastures…leading me beside still waters….Revives my soul…..Gemma, when you feel the most overwhelmed, the most scared, the most distant, the most lost…you will be revived…maybe through coming to this altar for communion, maybe through running into a church member out in the community, maybe by going through a box of memorabilia and finding your baptismal certificate, maybe by picking up your BCP or reading a favorite Bible verse, maybe by strapping on an apron and working at the fish fry…how it happens isn’t nearly as important as knowing that it will happen, you will be revived…in and through this community and in and through the love of God for you, in Jesus Christ, today and always.
Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I shall fear no evil for you are with me
Gemma, there will be dark days, there will be times when it’s so dark in your soul that you may forget God, you may lose sight of God, you may, no matter how hard you try, be unable to find God. But this is what I want you to know---God is there. God is always there. Jesus is there, Jesus is always there. The Holy Spirit is there, for the Holy Spirit is always there, even if you feel so lost in the mire, so alone in the dark, so stuck in the bramble---the One Holy and Undivided Trinity is there.
When a shepherd is looking for a lost sheep and it is dark and dank and the shepherd can’t see her hand in front of her face, the shepherd takes her staff and taps it on the ground. TAP TAP TAP so that the sheep can find its way home.
Gemma, even in the darkest night, the Good Shepherd is tapping that staff.
God is always looking for us when we are lost.
God is always rejoicing when we are found.
Today, you are surrounded by the joy and love of people who will always reach out to you, who will always look for you when lost and who will rejoice when you are found.
Today, along with everyone here, I want you to remember that God’s goodness and mercy as well as the “tap tap tap” of that staff, will follow you all the days of your life…and that you, as well as all of us, will dwell in the house of the Lord forever because you, as well as all of us, are marked, sealed as Christ’s own. Forever. Amen and Alleluia!
As a parish priest my tradition, on baptism days, was for the sermon to be in the form of a letter to the baptized. I do this, not because I think 3 month old Gemma will remember what I say, but to remind us of the promises God, our Godparents and parents, church family and friends made to us at our baptisms; because the Body of Christ in this world is fueled by us, the baptized beloved of God. And reminders of this always helpful.
Dear Gemma,
God is smiling today. Nothing makes God happier than a baptism, for on a baptism day everyone is smiling! Your parents and Godparents are thrilled for you, this, your new church family is happy for you, all the friends and family here today are rejoicing. It’s a great day as we welcome you to the family, Gemma. Today we promise to pray for you for the rest of your life. Today we promise to be there for you, come what may. Today we promise to protect you, to encourage you, to support you and to love you. Forever.
And God? Well, God promises to make sure that the Good Shepherd, Jesus Christ himself will do everything EVERYTHING to protect from danger, to find you if you are lost, to untangle you from any sticky situation and to always, always, welcome you home.
On this day, as Pastor Karen pours the holy water of God over your head, as she looks into your eyes with love and hope, saying those words that never fail to make me cry: “Gemma Lyn I baptize you in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, you will be changed…and so will all of us.
You’ll be changed because on this day, and for every single day from now on, you’ll know that you are God’s beloved child. Of course, you’ve been God’s beloved child since the moment of your birth, but on this day God, through all of us, let’s you know that this Love, the love that surpasses all other love, is yours. Always and forever.
Because this is the whole point—God’s love is yours, it’s mine, it’s ours it is everyone’s ----now and forever. No exceptions.
God is so thrilled by this, God has given us the greatest Love poem of all time to mark the occasion---
The 23rd Psalm.
The Lord is my shepherd….HONEST! God will always be there for you, Gemma. Always.
He makes me lie down in green pastures…leading me beside still waters….Revives my soul…..Gemma, when you feel the most overwhelmed, the most scared, the most distant, the most lost…you will be revived…maybe through coming to this altar for communion, maybe through running into a church member out in the community, maybe by going through a box of memorabilia and finding your baptismal certificate, maybe by picking up your BCP or reading a favorite Bible verse, maybe by strapping on an apron and working at the fish fry…how it happens isn’t nearly as important as knowing that it will happen, you will be revived…in and through this community and in and through the love of God for you, in Jesus Christ, today and always.
Though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I shall fear no evil for you are with me
Gemma, there will be dark days, there will be times when it’s so dark in your soul that you may forget God, you may lose sight of God, you may, no matter how hard you try, be unable to find God. But this is what I want you to know---God is there. God is always there. Jesus is there, Jesus is always there. The Holy Spirit is there, for the Holy Spirit is always there, even if you feel so lost in the mire, so alone in the dark, so stuck in the bramble---the One Holy and Undivided Trinity is there.
When a shepherd is looking for a lost sheep and it is dark and dank and the shepherd can’t see her hand in front of her face, the shepherd takes her staff and taps it on the ground. TAP TAP TAP so that the sheep can find its way home.
Gemma, even in the darkest night, the Good Shepherd is tapping that staff.
God is always looking for us when we are lost.
God is always rejoicing when we are found.
Today, you are surrounded by the joy and love of people who will always reach out to you, who will always look for you when lost and who will rejoice when you are found.
Today, along with everyone here, I want you to remember that God’s goodness and mercy as well as the “tap tap tap” of that staff, will follow you all the days of your life…and that you, as well as all of us, will dwell in the house of the Lord forever because you, as well as all of us, are marked, sealed as Christ’s own. Forever. Amen and Alleluia!
Sunday, April 10, 2016
Easter 3 Yr C Ordinary Us, Extraordinary God St John's Grace
+ Now I know we’re well into the 50 days of Easter, I know that we’re weeks—months—removed from the season of Advent. That the focus of Easter is not on Jesus’ mother Mary at all.
But today, on the day we hear yet another story about how the risen Jesus appeared to his disciples in the most ordinary of settings, I want to talk a little bit about Gabriel’s extraordinary visit to Mary on the most ordinary of days and in the most regular of circumstances. I’ve always envisioned the visit as taking place while Mary was gathering laundry off the line. I see Mary as a bit disheveled, busied by ordinary household texts. Nothing special, nothing unusual. I think that’s an important frame through which we view the entirety of Jesus’ life. In fact the entirety of what we call salvation history.
It’s important to remember that experiences of the holy are less Charleton Heston on some sound stage mountaintop and more peasant girls saying yes and being brave.
It’s also important to remember that the work Jesus has left for us to do—feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, loving the unlovable, embracing the outcast and seeking justice for all forever---isn’t work only for the strong and mighty, the rich and the famous, the wise and the wonderful, but that it’s also for the regular and the routine, the plain and the ordinary, the you and the me of this world.
You see, the power of God is simply a bunch of “sound and fury signifying nothing” unless and until we invite that power to work in and through us. Only then will God’s power, wonder and Grace be able to do what it needs to do---change this world once and for all.
And that’s why, as we shout alleluia and celebrate the empty tomb, we remember Gabriel and his visit to Mary. Because only then can we understand the significance of the simplicity of Jesus’ appearance to his friends on the beach, over a breakfast of broiled fish.
When the angel Gabriel visited Mary he didn’t tell her that God had chosen her because she was perfect, pure, and immaculate. No, the angel Gabriel tells Mary that she’s loved by God and because of that love, God’s going to use her to set into motion the greatest story of all time.
Fast forward some thirty years and the story continues with that same God incarnate showing the disciples that the story must continue through them-- not because they’re perfect or exceptional or even above average, but because they’re loved by God and God will use them to spread that love to everyone, everywhere, always.
The miracle of Christ’s birth and the miracle of the empty tomb isn’t because of God’s omnipotence; the miracle of the virgin birth and the empty tomb is because of God’s penchant for using the ordinary and the mundane to do the extraordinary and the awesome.
The magnificent thing about Mary wasn’t her alleged purity, or her youth or her devotion, nor was it even her incredible bravery and her outstanding witness. No, to me the most magnificent thing about Mary was her ‘yes.’ Her willingness to open herself up to be used by God and to, through God, give us Jesus. It’s easy to say we’d never have the bravery or the fortitude of Mary, and perhaps we wouldn’t, but the fact is we could. We can. God didn’t ask Mary to sing a song of protest, or to be there from crib to cross, God simply asked Mary to be an instrument. And Mary said yes, she lived yes, she is the embodiment of yes.
The story of God living and moving in this world, from Abraham and Sarah to Moses and Miriam to Ruth and Naomi, to Elizabeth and Mary, is full of ordinary people doing extraordinary things. Of ordinary people saying yes to God. Sometimes with trepidation, other times with annoyance, still others with defiance, but in the end the yes said by young peasant women, shepherds, fishermen, tentmakers, silk merchants and carpenters has changed the world.
Which is why the post-resurrection appearances of Jesus are so fascinating. When Jesus discarded the bounds of death, when he emerged from the tomb, it was not in a blaze of glory, but in the regular and the usual: a quiet hello to Mary, ‘Peace Be With’ instead of a rageful ‘how could you’ to the disciples behind those locked doors. A ‘go ahead and touch my wounds’ to the trembling Thomas, a shared meal on the road to Emmaus and then this morning, a simple fish breakfast on the shores of the Sea.
The “big moments” in Jesus’ life are simple encounters between God and humanity, between an angel and a girl, between a hoped for messiah and his band of sisters and brothers, between a teacher and his students, between God in the flesh and God’s beloved….you and me.
And right there is our Easter message---
We needn’t look for God only in the magnificent and the awe-inspiring. Because that’s not how God reaches out to us. You see, God understands that we expect to encounter the Holy in the big, the dramatic, and the amazing. But God doesn’t want to see us ONLY in our Sunday best. God is much more interested in our regular-ness than in our spectacular-ness. God does most of God’s work in the regular and in the routine. Like fishing off the coast, walking in the garden or in the breaking of the bread.
Our Easter task, my friends, is to listen for God in the whispers of daily life.
Our Easter task is to hear God.
Our Easter Task is to see God.
Our Easter task is to be God ‘s hands and feet in the world. To follow Jesus. And to take care of Jesus’ lambs. Each and every day.
Our Easter message then, is this:
God speaks to us in the ordinary.
God speaks to us in the mundane.
God speaks to us.
All we need to do is say, Yes, here I am.
For when we do that, God joins our Easter song of Praise: Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia.
Amen!
But today, on the day we hear yet another story about how the risen Jesus appeared to his disciples in the most ordinary of settings, I want to talk a little bit about Gabriel’s extraordinary visit to Mary on the most ordinary of days and in the most regular of circumstances. I’ve always envisioned the visit as taking place while Mary was gathering laundry off the line. I see Mary as a bit disheveled, busied by ordinary household texts. Nothing special, nothing unusual. I think that’s an important frame through which we view the entirety of Jesus’ life. In fact the entirety of what we call salvation history.
It’s important to remember that experiences of the holy are less Charleton Heston on some sound stage mountaintop and more peasant girls saying yes and being brave.
It’s also important to remember that the work Jesus has left for us to do—feeding the hungry, clothing the naked, loving the unlovable, embracing the outcast and seeking justice for all forever---isn’t work only for the strong and mighty, the rich and the famous, the wise and the wonderful, but that it’s also for the regular and the routine, the plain and the ordinary, the you and the me of this world.
You see, the power of God is simply a bunch of “sound and fury signifying nothing” unless and until we invite that power to work in and through us. Only then will God’s power, wonder and Grace be able to do what it needs to do---change this world once and for all.
And that’s why, as we shout alleluia and celebrate the empty tomb, we remember Gabriel and his visit to Mary. Because only then can we understand the significance of the simplicity of Jesus’ appearance to his friends on the beach, over a breakfast of broiled fish.
When the angel Gabriel visited Mary he didn’t tell her that God had chosen her because she was perfect, pure, and immaculate. No, the angel Gabriel tells Mary that she’s loved by God and because of that love, God’s going to use her to set into motion the greatest story of all time.
Fast forward some thirty years and the story continues with that same God incarnate showing the disciples that the story must continue through them-- not because they’re perfect or exceptional or even above average, but because they’re loved by God and God will use them to spread that love to everyone, everywhere, always.
The miracle of Christ’s birth and the miracle of the empty tomb isn’t because of God’s omnipotence; the miracle of the virgin birth and the empty tomb is because of God’s penchant for using the ordinary and the mundane to do the extraordinary and the awesome.
The magnificent thing about Mary wasn’t her alleged purity, or her youth or her devotion, nor was it even her incredible bravery and her outstanding witness. No, to me the most magnificent thing about Mary was her ‘yes.’ Her willingness to open herself up to be used by God and to, through God, give us Jesus. It’s easy to say we’d never have the bravery or the fortitude of Mary, and perhaps we wouldn’t, but the fact is we could. We can. God didn’t ask Mary to sing a song of protest, or to be there from crib to cross, God simply asked Mary to be an instrument. And Mary said yes, she lived yes, she is the embodiment of yes.
The story of God living and moving in this world, from Abraham and Sarah to Moses and Miriam to Ruth and Naomi, to Elizabeth and Mary, is full of ordinary people doing extraordinary things. Of ordinary people saying yes to God. Sometimes with trepidation, other times with annoyance, still others with defiance, but in the end the yes said by young peasant women, shepherds, fishermen, tentmakers, silk merchants and carpenters has changed the world.
Which is why the post-resurrection appearances of Jesus are so fascinating. When Jesus discarded the bounds of death, when he emerged from the tomb, it was not in a blaze of glory, but in the regular and the usual: a quiet hello to Mary, ‘Peace Be With’ instead of a rageful ‘how could you’ to the disciples behind those locked doors. A ‘go ahead and touch my wounds’ to the trembling Thomas, a shared meal on the road to Emmaus and then this morning, a simple fish breakfast on the shores of the Sea.
The “big moments” in Jesus’ life are simple encounters between God and humanity, between an angel and a girl, between a hoped for messiah and his band of sisters and brothers, between a teacher and his students, between God in the flesh and God’s beloved….you and me.
And right there is our Easter message---
We needn’t look for God only in the magnificent and the awe-inspiring. Because that’s not how God reaches out to us. You see, God understands that we expect to encounter the Holy in the big, the dramatic, and the amazing. But God doesn’t want to see us ONLY in our Sunday best. God is much more interested in our regular-ness than in our spectacular-ness. God does most of God’s work in the regular and in the routine. Like fishing off the coast, walking in the garden or in the breaking of the bread.
Our Easter task, my friends, is to listen for God in the whispers of daily life.
Our Easter task is to hear God.
Our Easter Task is to see God.
Our Easter task is to be God ‘s hands and feet in the world. To follow Jesus. And to take care of Jesus’ lambs. Each and every day.
Our Easter message then, is this:
God speaks to us in the ordinary.
God speaks to us in the mundane.
God speaks to us.
All we need to do is say, Yes, here I am.
For when we do that, God joins our Easter song of Praise: Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia.
Amen!
Sunday, April 3, 2016
Doubt's Not Bad, Seeing is the Last Step of Believing and They'll Know we are Christians by our Love. Easter 2 St Matthew's Buffalo, Baptism
+Good morning, my name is Cathy Dempesy Sims and I’m Bishop Franklin’s Canon for Connections. That means I get to go to a different church every Sunday, getting to know the nuances of each parish and helping congregations with anything I can.
I’ve been working with Deacon Pat and Kale for the past month or so as you move into the next step of your life as St. Matthew’s. It was important to Bishop Bill and to me that I be present with you on the first Sunday of this new phase…and what a great blessing that I get to do a baptism as well!
When I was a parish priest I had a tradition for the sermon on baptism days---the sermon would be in the form of a letter to the newly baptized. I’d like to continue that practice this morning.
Dear Kaleb,
We’re so happy to officially welcome you into the church today. God loves a baptism so I have no doubt that our creator God is smiling extra wide upon us this morning.
Today is often referred to as Doubting Thomas Sunday, because each and every year, on the Second Sunday of Easter, we read the gospel story of Doubting Thomas.
Here’s the thing you need to know Kaleb, Thomas gets a bum rap! There is nothing wrong with doubt!!! Kaleb, in your life you’ll have many moments of doubt, of confusion, even of anger. You’ll wonder if you really can love everyone, everywhere, always, no exceptions. It’s not always easy! But regardless of the times you may DOUBT, remember that God ALWAYS loves you and God knows that you believe.
This is what people forget about Thomas. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe that Jesus could be raised from the dead, he believed it. But believing something could be true is different from seeing that something is true. I don’t think that Thomas doubted Jesus could be alive, I think he was just so heartbroken at Jesus’ death that he wouldn’t allow himself to accept that it was true until he saw it for his own eyes.
And you know what Kaleb? I get that. In your life there will be things that you believe are possible but you might not be willing to accept have actually happened until you see it. Like the Bills winning the Super Bowl…we believe that it’s possible, we pray that it happens soon but until we see Mr. Pegula holding the Vince Lombardi trophy and we have a parade down Delaware Avenue, I don’t think any of us will allow ourselves to fully believe it.
This is where Thomas gets a bum rap--- there’s nothing wrong with needing to see something before fully accepting that it’s true---seeing as the final step to believing ---isn’t a bad thing.
You see, one of the things we must absolutely, positively do, as Christians, is to show people that we are Christians.
There’s an old hymn called, “They Will Know We Are Christians By Our Love.” It’s a perfect name for a song, because it is exactly what we, as Christians, are called to do. This idea--- that people will know we are Christians by Our Love is so important Kaleb that I never want anyone here to forget it. And a baptism is a really good reminder.
In a few minutes everyone here is going to make all sorts of promises for you….and in doing so we’ll “renew” the promises that are fundamental to our faith and absolutely key to our understanding of what it means to be a Christian.
• We will promise to keep believing in our Creator God.
• We will promise to keep believing that God came to live among us in the person of Jesus Christ, God’s Son. We’ll promise to believe everything that happened to Jesus in his life, in his death, in his resurrection and in his ascension.
• We’ll promise to believe that the Holy Spirit lives and moves among us, creating communities of faith that are designed to change the world.
• YES, Kaleb, we promise to change the world.
And you know how we do that?
• By following the teaching set forth by the apostles--by coming to church and breaking bread in community and doing our daily prayers.
• By, when we make mistakes, and trust me Kaleb we all make a LOT of mistakes, when we make mistakes, apologize and return to God for the forgiveness and love God always, never any exceptions, gives to us.
• By seeing Christ in everyone whom we encounter, even those people who anger us, frighten us or make us uncomfortable.
• By always making sure that peace and justice are available to everyone, everywhere, always.
• And, finally, to proclaim by word and example all the Good news we have received through Jesus Christ.
“Proclaim by word and example.” Kaleb, that’s just a fancy way of saying, “showing people---everyone, everywhere and always----that we are Christians.” And how do we do that? “By our Love.”
So, dear Kaleb, as we welcome you into the fullness of the church on this day, as we seal you with the Holy Spirit and mark you as Christ’s own, forever, you are helping us to remember that the only way the world will know the incredible, awesome, never-ending, no exceptions, always available to everyone everywhere forever love of God is if we show them.
If we show that love in all that we do, there will be no doubt that Love, the source of all that is good in this world, is being spread by us, through us and between us.
Kaleb, remember that you are loved, not only by all of us here today, but by your Creating, Redeeming and Sustaining God. Take that love and show it off!
This is the message Thomas teaches you today and all of the wonderful people who make St. Matthew’s a beacon of hope on Seneca Street in the City of Buffalo and beyond: they will know you are a Christian, by your love, by your love.
Welcome to the fold young man and may God’s blessings flow upon you today and forevermore. Alleluia and Amen.
I’ve been working with Deacon Pat and Kale for the past month or so as you move into the next step of your life as St. Matthew’s. It was important to Bishop Bill and to me that I be present with you on the first Sunday of this new phase…and what a great blessing that I get to do a baptism as well!
When I was a parish priest I had a tradition for the sermon on baptism days---the sermon would be in the form of a letter to the newly baptized. I’d like to continue that practice this morning.
Dear Kaleb,
We’re so happy to officially welcome you into the church today. God loves a baptism so I have no doubt that our creator God is smiling extra wide upon us this morning.
Today is often referred to as Doubting Thomas Sunday, because each and every year, on the Second Sunday of Easter, we read the gospel story of Doubting Thomas.
Here’s the thing you need to know Kaleb, Thomas gets a bum rap! There is nothing wrong with doubt!!! Kaleb, in your life you’ll have many moments of doubt, of confusion, even of anger. You’ll wonder if you really can love everyone, everywhere, always, no exceptions. It’s not always easy! But regardless of the times you may DOUBT, remember that God ALWAYS loves you and God knows that you believe.
This is what people forget about Thomas. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe that Jesus could be raised from the dead, he believed it. But believing something could be true is different from seeing that something is true. I don’t think that Thomas doubted Jesus could be alive, I think he was just so heartbroken at Jesus’ death that he wouldn’t allow himself to accept that it was true until he saw it for his own eyes.
And you know what Kaleb? I get that. In your life there will be things that you believe are possible but you might not be willing to accept have actually happened until you see it. Like the Bills winning the Super Bowl…we believe that it’s possible, we pray that it happens soon but until we see Mr. Pegula holding the Vince Lombardi trophy and we have a parade down Delaware Avenue, I don’t think any of us will allow ourselves to fully believe it.
This is where Thomas gets a bum rap--- there’s nothing wrong with needing to see something before fully accepting that it’s true---seeing as the final step to believing ---isn’t a bad thing.
You see, one of the things we must absolutely, positively do, as Christians, is to show people that we are Christians.
There’s an old hymn called, “They Will Know We Are Christians By Our Love.” It’s a perfect name for a song, because it is exactly what we, as Christians, are called to do. This idea--- that people will know we are Christians by Our Love is so important Kaleb that I never want anyone here to forget it. And a baptism is a really good reminder.
In a few minutes everyone here is going to make all sorts of promises for you….and in doing so we’ll “renew” the promises that are fundamental to our faith and absolutely key to our understanding of what it means to be a Christian.
• We will promise to keep believing in our Creator God.
• We will promise to keep believing that God came to live among us in the person of Jesus Christ, God’s Son. We’ll promise to believe everything that happened to Jesus in his life, in his death, in his resurrection and in his ascension.
• We’ll promise to believe that the Holy Spirit lives and moves among us, creating communities of faith that are designed to change the world.
• YES, Kaleb, we promise to change the world.
And you know how we do that?
• By following the teaching set forth by the apostles--by coming to church and breaking bread in community and doing our daily prayers.
• By, when we make mistakes, and trust me Kaleb we all make a LOT of mistakes, when we make mistakes, apologize and return to God for the forgiveness and love God always, never any exceptions, gives to us.
• By seeing Christ in everyone whom we encounter, even those people who anger us, frighten us or make us uncomfortable.
• By always making sure that peace and justice are available to everyone, everywhere, always.
• And, finally, to proclaim by word and example all the Good news we have received through Jesus Christ.
“Proclaim by word and example.” Kaleb, that’s just a fancy way of saying, “showing people---everyone, everywhere and always----that we are Christians.” And how do we do that? “By our Love.”
So, dear Kaleb, as we welcome you into the fullness of the church on this day, as we seal you with the Holy Spirit and mark you as Christ’s own, forever, you are helping us to remember that the only way the world will know the incredible, awesome, never-ending, no exceptions, always available to everyone everywhere forever love of God is if we show them.
If we show that love in all that we do, there will be no doubt that Love, the source of all that is good in this world, is being spread by us, through us and between us.
Kaleb, remember that you are loved, not only by all of us here today, but by your Creating, Redeeming and Sustaining God. Take that love and show it off!
This is the message Thomas teaches you today and all of the wonderful people who make St. Matthew’s a beacon of hope on Seneca Street in the City of Buffalo and beyond: they will know you are a Christian, by your love, by your love.
Welcome to the fold young man and may God’s blessings flow upon you today and forevermore. Alleluia and Amen.
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