Friday, May 8, 2009
NEXT YOUTH GROUP MEETING
May 17th after the Friends of Music Concert we will have a cook out and game night. OR instead of games we may need to practice our softball skills as St Martin in the Fields has a trophy which the Cathedral would dearly love to re-claim. Show up May 17th at 4:30 for more details......
Sunday, April 26, 2009
Life and Death...interrupted
Today's Sermon
Easter 3 Yr. B April 26, 2009
Alyssa was four years old when baby brother David arrived on the scene. One day, after David had been in the family for several months, Alyssa asked, “will David be here for Christmas?” “ Yes,” replied her mother. “Will he be here every Christmas?” Alyssa responded. “Why yes, he will be here for every Christmas from now on,” replied mom.
As her eyes opened to this new reality Alyssa responded with an emphatic, “RATS, ” and then marched up to her room, indignant.
New life is disruptive. Not only for older siblings but for anyone encountering something new in their midst.
Whether it ‘s actually a new life---a birth, an adoption a new co-worker or new neighbor the dynamic of a family, organization, or relationship is changed when someone new enters the mix. Our eyes are opened to a new reality, which is unfamiliar and cumbersome. As we get used to it, we may stumble, we may stammer we may even, in exasperation, exclaim: RATS and turn away.
Death disrupts as well. How many times did I, after my own father’s death, think, oh I need to call Dad and tell him about this or that or the other thing…only to be brought up short with the realization that I couldn’t call him. Ever. Family gatherings are not the same when grandparents, parents, siblings or children aren’t there----it changes the whole experience when someone is missing. It too is cumbersome and we may stumble and fall as we adjust [to this new reality].
The apostles, on this long long day of resurrection, experience both the disorienting events of death and then shockingly, new life. All in the same day. It began with mournful yet dutiful Mary Magdalene trudging to the tomb, to finish anointing the body of her beloved teacher. It continued with some disciples lamenting the loss of Jesus and all the events that lead up to the crucifixion as they journeyed toward Emmaus. And then, as we heard last week in John’s Gospel and today in Luke’s the eleven are huddled in the locked upper room, fearful, dismayed and disoriented by the events of the previous few days. The living are trying to regain their bearings following the death of a loved one…trying to figure out what to do next, how to carry on with someone missing.
But, in each instance, the grieving is interrupted, disrupted, and blown apart by the simple actions of the Risen Jesus—to Mary he simply says her name, to Thomas and the others he shows that he is flesh and bones, not a ghost, not a mirage.Through simple gestures of speech, touch and eating Jesus discloses the amazing truth: death has been replaced by life.
And suddenly, everything, once again, is changed. It isn’t as it was with Jesus dead, but it isn’t what it was when Jesus was alive either. It is hard to figure out. Just what is going on? Alleluia Christ is Risen. But what does that mean?
Now what? What do we do?
In a few hours this band of followers have gone from the disruption and disorientation of death to the disruption and disorientation of new life. They are, as we are told in two of our readings this morning, witnesses to these things.
Ask any police officer and they’ll tell you, put three witnesses in a room and you will get three different stories. Not because anyone is lying or being deliberately deceptive but because, when in a scary situation, when shocked by what we see, our perceptions get altered, our memories get confused, we aren’t sure of what it was we just saw. Or, we ARE sure of what we just saw, but we just can’t believe it.
I know that when I see something amazing---something tragic and horrible or miraculous and life giving, I have a tendency to stop dead in my tracks. It’s as if the automatic actions of living—breathing, talking, blinking, and walking--stop. Suddenly there is nothing we can do except gape, mouth open, eyes wide. It is as if we must open all our senses to comprehend what has just happened. The world as we have come to expect it, is changed, perhaps for just a moment, perhaps forever….but it is changed. ..and we need some time to adjust. Was what we just saw really what we just saw?
It takes some time for our eyes to be opened to this new reality.
Our readings early in this Easter season show us a whole group of people trying to come to grips with the disruptive events of life, death and then life again. A series of events unfolding at lightening speed leaving the disciples confused, frightened and seemingly in the dark about the new reality of Easter. But then, the risen Jesus opens their eyes and their hearts burn with a recognition which, while familiar, is also incomprehensible.
Jesus opened their eyes so they could finally begin to see, to comprehend to understand. It was a process of fits and starts as they tried to regain their footing in this new reality. Now it’s easy to scoff at the disciples—how could they NOT see? But truth be told, how often do we not see?
In the collect for today we ask that the eyes of our faith may be opened to behold the redeeming work of God in the world. Have our eyes been opened? If so, what do these opened eyes see?
Don’t we see the Risen Christ in the eyes of our co-workers, in the chatter of carpool kids in the backseat of the car, in the laugh shared at coffee hour, in the wave another driver gives us at the stop sign. You see, when our eyes are opened through our faith we find the Risen One everywhere, in the brokenness of another’s hurt, a hurt we try to soothe by listening, by being present. When our eyes are opened through our faith the risen Christ is found when we bring a bag of rice for the food pantry, when we linger with the elderly neighbor who is lonely. Our eyes are opened to see the Risen Christ when we support our youth and children. Our eyes are opened to the Risen Christ, our hands touch his wounds when we remember that the welfare of the world we live in, the caretaking of creation as bestowed to us by God , is dependent on us living dying and rising to life again every single day. It may be disruptive, it may be uncomfortable, it may be messy, but such is a life with a savior who has redeemed us to be an Easter people.
Amen.
Easter 3 Yr. B April 26, 2009
Alyssa was four years old when baby brother David arrived on the scene. One day, after David had been in the family for several months, Alyssa asked, “will David be here for Christmas?” “ Yes,” replied her mother. “Will he be here every Christmas?” Alyssa responded. “Why yes, he will be here for every Christmas from now on,” replied mom.
As her eyes opened to this new reality Alyssa responded with an emphatic, “RATS, ” and then marched up to her room, indignant.
New life is disruptive. Not only for older siblings but for anyone encountering something new in their midst.
Whether it ‘s actually a new life---a birth, an adoption a new co-worker or new neighbor the dynamic of a family, organization, or relationship is changed when someone new enters the mix. Our eyes are opened to a new reality, which is unfamiliar and cumbersome. As we get used to it, we may stumble, we may stammer we may even, in exasperation, exclaim: RATS and turn away.
Death disrupts as well. How many times did I, after my own father’s death, think, oh I need to call Dad and tell him about this or that or the other thing…only to be brought up short with the realization that I couldn’t call him. Ever. Family gatherings are not the same when grandparents, parents, siblings or children aren’t there----it changes the whole experience when someone is missing. It too is cumbersome and we may stumble and fall as we adjust [to this new reality].
The apostles, on this long long day of resurrection, experience both the disorienting events of death and then shockingly, new life. All in the same day. It began with mournful yet dutiful Mary Magdalene trudging to the tomb, to finish anointing the body of her beloved teacher. It continued with some disciples lamenting the loss of Jesus and all the events that lead up to the crucifixion as they journeyed toward Emmaus. And then, as we heard last week in John’s Gospel and today in Luke’s the eleven are huddled in the locked upper room, fearful, dismayed and disoriented by the events of the previous few days. The living are trying to regain their bearings following the death of a loved one…trying to figure out what to do next, how to carry on with someone missing.
But, in each instance, the grieving is interrupted, disrupted, and blown apart by the simple actions of the Risen Jesus—to Mary he simply says her name, to Thomas and the others he shows that he is flesh and bones, not a ghost, not a mirage.Through simple gestures of speech, touch and eating Jesus discloses the amazing truth: death has been replaced by life.
And suddenly, everything, once again, is changed. It isn’t as it was with Jesus dead, but it isn’t what it was when Jesus was alive either. It is hard to figure out. Just what is going on? Alleluia Christ is Risen. But what does that mean?
Now what? What do we do?
In a few hours this band of followers have gone from the disruption and disorientation of death to the disruption and disorientation of new life. They are, as we are told in two of our readings this morning, witnesses to these things.
Ask any police officer and they’ll tell you, put three witnesses in a room and you will get three different stories. Not because anyone is lying or being deliberately deceptive but because, when in a scary situation, when shocked by what we see, our perceptions get altered, our memories get confused, we aren’t sure of what it was we just saw. Or, we ARE sure of what we just saw, but we just can’t believe it.
I know that when I see something amazing---something tragic and horrible or miraculous and life giving, I have a tendency to stop dead in my tracks. It’s as if the automatic actions of living—breathing, talking, blinking, and walking--stop. Suddenly there is nothing we can do except gape, mouth open, eyes wide. It is as if we must open all our senses to comprehend what has just happened. The world as we have come to expect it, is changed, perhaps for just a moment, perhaps forever….but it is changed. ..and we need some time to adjust. Was what we just saw really what we just saw?
It takes some time for our eyes to be opened to this new reality.
Our readings early in this Easter season show us a whole group of people trying to come to grips with the disruptive events of life, death and then life again. A series of events unfolding at lightening speed leaving the disciples confused, frightened and seemingly in the dark about the new reality of Easter. But then, the risen Jesus opens their eyes and their hearts burn with a recognition which, while familiar, is also incomprehensible.
Jesus opened their eyes so they could finally begin to see, to comprehend to understand. It was a process of fits and starts as they tried to regain their footing in this new reality. Now it’s easy to scoff at the disciples—how could they NOT see? But truth be told, how often do we not see?
In the collect for today we ask that the eyes of our faith may be opened to behold the redeeming work of God in the world. Have our eyes been opened? If so, what do these opened eyes see?
Don’t we see the Risen Christ in the eyes of our co-workers, in the chatter of carpool kids in the backseat of the car, in the laugh shared at coffee hour, in the wave another driver gives us at the stop sign. You see, when our eyes are opened through our faith we find the Risen One everywhere, in the brokenness of another’s hurt, a hurt we try to soothe by listening, by being present. When our eyes are opened through our faith the risen Christ is found when we bring a bag of rice for the food pantry, when we linger with the elderly neighbor who is lonely. Our eyes are opened to see the Risen Christ when we support our youth and children. Our eyes are opened to the Risen Christ, our hands touch his wounds when we remember that the welfare of the world we live in, the caretaking of creation as bestowed to us by God , is dependent on us living dying and rising to life again every single day. It may be disruptive, it may be uncomfortable, it may be messy, but such is a life with a savior who has redeemed us to be an Easter people.
Amen.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Waiting, watching and remembering.
Maundy Thursday sermon, April 9, 2009
***The Gospel used at the Cathedral is Luke 22:14-30 as the foot washing is not practiced at St. Paul’s. ***
+Some 16 years ago as my father lay dying my extended family and I gathered round his hospital bed telling stories of the past-- funny stories about George, our dad, grandfather, husband and friend. We laughed and laughed at the memories until finally my mother noticed that his labored breathing had stopped. Dad was gone.
His final journey had been arduous and for the last three weeks of his life he was in the hospital, slowly descending into the grips of death. It was during those weeks and most especially those final days and hours that we had the opportunity to bear witness to Dad’s journey. During those final days we waited and watched with him. Many times there were no words, it was simply our presence that gave him the strength he needed to die. The memory of that waiting and watching with Dad will always be with me and sharing those memories as a family strengthens us, those memories make us who we are. Remembering that time is important because remembering the past helps us navigate the present. Walking with Dad and remembering that walk, is a big part of who I am today. Remembering forms us into who we are now.
Jesus took these two points—the walking with now and the remembering later and made them the focal point of that Thursday evening supper during the first Holy Week. “wait with me. Be with me as I move toward the inevitable. And then, when it is over, remember it all, remember me.” Jesus needed his friends to wait with him, to watch with him, to walk this final walk toward death with him. The week had such a promising start--the triumphal entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, but then over the next few days the triumph changed to despair as one by one the supporters fell away, denying him, deserting him, turning on him.
Tonight we meet Jesus halfway through this week, when all the questioning, the fear, the denial and the betrayal has been put in motion. ..the disciples are arguing, debating and gossiping…no one seems t o be paying attention. It’s a Seder, the ancient Jewish meal remembering Jewish people’s liberation from slavery, a story each of the disciples knew, a story integral to their Jewish identity. It’s possible this telling of the Passover story had become rote for them, they were just going through the ritual motions. But Jesus needed them to pay attention because on this night, as he had done so many times in the past, Jesus would take something utterly familiar, something very comfortable and turn it upside down and inside out.
Jesus knew that remembering was a key component of community building and he knew that the community of the burgeoning primitive church was going to need strength, a strength built on the telling of stories, built on the remembering of what came before.
Every one of us has stories, stories which have been handed down to us by parents and grandparents. Whatever the specifics we tell and re-tell these tales because they contribute to our identity, they make us who we are.
Jesus, on this night so long ago didn’t want his friends to forget his story. Not because he was some kind of egomaniac but because he knew the value of telling a story. Just as the story telling at my father’s bedside forged our family and friends into a stronger bond, Jesus wanted his friends to wait with him, to watch with him and then when he was gone, to tell the story, to remember and to be strengthened by the story enough to keep it going. He wants the same for us--for the work Jesus started is not yet finished and we as inheritors of the faith must carry it on. We must ingest these stories of Jesus. And to carry on the work we must claim the stories as our own, not only by telling them but by living them.
That’s why we have the Eucharist every week, because not only do we need to say it and hear it, we need to be it. So we take, we eat and we remember.
In a few minutes after sharing in the Eucharist one last time, we’ll strip the altar, while lamenting the betrayal, loss and despair of the next three days. We’ll strip ourselves bare to feel the pain and loss of Jesus’ death. We do this not because we need to be punished, not because we need to hurt. We do this so we can remember. So we’ll remember not just with words, not just with thoughts, but with actions. For when we strip our sacred space of all that is familiar, when we enter into the darkness of this long night, waiting watching and weeping with Christ, we remember. And through our remembering we are strengthened. Each time we take and eat we are remembering the story and with each remembrance we gain strength. The strength needed to continue to do the work God has given us to do. Amen.
***The Gospel used at the Cathedral is Luke 22:14-30 as the foot washing is not practiced at St. Paul’s. ***
+Some 16 years ago as my father lay dying my extended family and I gathered round his hospital bed telling stories of the past-- funny stories about George, our dad, grandfather, husband and friend. We laughed and laughed at the memories until finally my mother noticed that his labored breathing had stopped. Dad was gone.
His final journey had been arduous and for the last three weeks of his life he was in the hospital, slowly descending into the grips of death. It was during those weeks and most especially those final days and hours that we had the opportunity to bear witness to Dad’s journey. During those final days we waited and watched with him. Many times there were no words, it was simply our presence that gave him the strength he needed to die. The memory of that waiting and watching with Dad will always be with me and sharing those memories as a family strengthens us, those memories make us who we are. Remembering that time is important because remembering the past helps us navigate the present. Walking with Dad and remembering that walk, is a big part of who I am today. Remembering forms us into who we are now.
Jesus took these two points—the walking with now and the remembering later and made them the focal point of that Thursday evening supper during the first Holy Week. “wait with me. Be with me as I move toward the inevitable. And then, when it is over, remember it all, remember me.” Jesus needed his friends to wait with him, to watch with him, to walk this final walk toward death with him. The week had such a promising start--the triumphal entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, but then over the next few days the triumph changed to despair as one by one the supporters fell away, denying him, deserting him, turning on him.
Tonight we meet Jesus halfway through this week, when all the questioning, the fear, the denial and the betrayal has been put in motion. ..the disciples are arguing, debating and gossiping…no one seems t o be paying attention. It’s a Seder, the ancient Jewish meal remembering Jewish people’s liberation from slavery, a story each of the disciples knew, a story integral to their Jewish identity. It’s possible this telling of the Passover story had become rote for them, they were just going through the ritual motions. But Jesus needed them to pay attention because on this night, as he had done so many times in the past, Jesus would take something utterly familiar, something very comfortable and turn it upside down and inside out.
Jesus knew that remembering was a key component of community building and he knew that the community of the burgeoning primitive church was going to need strength, a strength built on the telling of stories, built on the remembering of what came before.
Every one of us has stories, stories which have been handed down to us by parents and grandparents. Whatever the specifics we tell and re-tell these tales because they contribute to our identity, they make us who we are.
Jesus, on this night so long ago didn’t want his friends to forget his story. Not because he was some kind of egomaniac but because he knew the value of telling a story. Just as the story telling at my father’s bedside forged our family and friends into a stronger bond, Jesus wanted his friends to wait with him, to watch with him and then when he was gone, to tell the story, to remember and to be strengthened by the story enough to keep it going. He wants the same for us--for the work Jesus started is not yet finished and we as inheritors of the faith must carry it on. We must ingest these stories of Jesus. And to carry on the work we must claim the stories as our own, not only by telling them but by living them.
That’s why we have the Eucharist every week, because not only do we need to say it and hear it, we need to be it. So we take, we eat and we remember.
In a few minutes after sharing in the Eucharist one last time, we’ll strip the altar, while lamenting the betrayal, loss and despair of the next three days. We’ll strip ourselves bare to feel the pain and loss of Jesus’ death. We do this not because we need to be punished, not because we need to hurt. We do this so we can remember. So we’ll remember not just with words, not just with thoughts, but with actions. For when we strip our sacred space of all that is familiar, when we enter into the darkness of this long night, waiting watching and weeping with Christ, we remember. And through our remembering we are strengthened. Each time we take and eat we are remembering the story and with each remembrance we gain strength. The strength needed to continue to do the work God has given us to do. Amen.
Monday, March 30, 2009
Crying Our Way to Easter
Yesterday's sermon:
+
Cry. You have to cry.
Crying is a necessary part of life--- for crying—I mean a real good ol’ stomach wrenching sob-fest—is cleansing. It clears our hearts and minds and renews, as the psalmist tells us this morning, a “right spirit within us.”(Psalm 51)
Crying can be very difficult for some people—it represents a loss of control, a weakness that they do not—sometimes for very good reason---want to expose. But without crying, the anguish which fuels the tears is turned back inward where it can slowly eat away at us until we are languishing in darkness with seemingly no way out.
Crying breaks open the anguish, pushing the dark away so the light can shine through…it’s important to cry.
Sometimes we cry with joy, sometimes we cry with rage, sometimes we cry with fear, sometimes we cry with disappointment and sometimes we cry with heartbreak.
Everyone experiences tears and heartbreak, even God.
I am convinced God cries. And scripture tells us, Jesus wept.
God’s heartbreak has been chronicled throughout Lent--covenants made, covenants broken, God disappointed, God heartbroken by his creation.
The heartbreak of Jesus is also known--he wailed with sadness at the death of his friend Lazarus, he wailed with frustration at the money changers in the temple, and he wailed with fear and pain in the garden and on the cross.
Today’s Gospel gives us a hint of this heartbreak-- Jesus asks God if the suffering he is about to endure is really necessary. Isn’t there another way? Another way to change the heart of humanity, another way to bring in a completely different type of love?
No. God is clear, this is what needs to happen. The heartbreak of God at the death of Jesus is needed. The tears are needed, the agony has to happen. Not because we have a malicious, hurtful God, but because sometimes things need to break in order to grow .
This happens all the time. Something breaks and as a result we find ourselves stronger. Don’t you think this economic crisis will, in the end, bring us into a new way of doing business, into a new economic reality, which will be stronger, more resistant to the darkness of greed?
Think about learning something new. Skiing, golfing, the computer, a language. Aren’t the mistakes made while trying something new helpful? We learn from them. And when we learn from our mistakes something new emerges….a light bulb goes off and we are changed. Our mistakes make us different. Our mistakes make us better. Our mistakes strengthen us.
Mistakes, breaking, crying, hurting—all of this is part of our humanity, part of us. It is inevitable that we will break, cry and hurt…and it’s inevitable we will come out of it a little stronger.
You know why Jesus’ ministry was focused on the fringe of society the outcasts? Because—I think-- such people had a lot of heartbreak and their broken-ness made them ripe for growth.
Why is that? Why do we have to break a little to get stronger? Why is it that we have to cry to get clearer? Why is it that we have to hurt to grow?
Because each time we break, each time we cry, each time we hurt we open up more space for God .
And that’s all God needs---space. That’s why my favorite day of the Triduum—the three days of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Holy Saturday is Holy Saturday. The day of silence, the day of death, the day of quiet. All the betrayal and agony leads to this empty space, this abyss this loneliness this nothingness. A day when we have been stripped of everything and are able, finally to receive the full measure of God’s love. Because, as Mother Liza reminded us last week in her sermon, we need to receive God. And to receive God we need to be empty. As God told the prophet Jeremiah in today’s Old Testament lesson, this covenant, this final covenant between God and us is written on our hearts, it is inside of us, underneath all the crud we pile up. That’s why we fast, that’s why we quiet ourselves that’s why we discipline ourselves, we strip ourselves so that the love of God can grow from that spot deep within us where God placed his loving touch while we were still in our mother’s womb.
Jesus in his human-ness needed this broken-ness as well. Jesus had agony, Jesus had heartbreak, Jesus shed tears. Jesus in his human nature needed to break, he needed to agonize, he needed to cry---he needed to clear out space for the divine light to shine through. Jesus’ cried out in agony not because he didn’t want to do what he had to do, but because the only way he could do what he had to do was to break his human form so his divine self could shine through. To reach his full stature as The Christ, Jesus had to break.
Sometimes we must break in order to grow. Sometimes we must empty ourselves to be filled. And sometimes we must cry to be cleansed.
That’s our job as Lent winds down….to allow all our discipline of these forty days strip us bare breaking open our hearts and cleansing ourselves with tears. When we do that we allow a new and right spirit to take up residence deep with in us—a spirit of wonder, love and surprise found at the empty tomb on Easter morning.
Because no matter how much we cry, no matter how much we wail, no matter how much we try to avoid it, God loves us so much he gave us his Son to take the human journey with us and for once and for all open up a space wide enough for each of us to enter, stripped bare and ready to receive a new life in Christ. A life cleansed by tears and illuminated with divine strength.
Amen.
+
Cry. You have to cry.
Crying is a necessary part of life--- for crying—I mean a real good ol’ stomach wrenching sob-fest—is cleansing. It clears our hearts and minds and renews, as the psalmist tells us this morning, a “right spirit within us.”(Psalm 51)
Crying can be very difficult for some people—it represents a loss of control, a weakness that they do not—sometimes for very good reason---want to expose. But without crying, the anguish which fuels the tears is turned back inward where it can slowly eat away at us until we are languishing in darkness with seemingly no way out.
Crying breaks open the anguish, pushing the dark away so the light can shine through…it’s important to cry.
Sometimes we cry with joy, sometimes we cry with rage, sometimes we cry with fear, sometimes we cry with disappointment and sometimes we cry with heartbreak.
Everyone experiences tears and heartbreak, even God.
I am convinced God cries. And scripture tells us, Jesus wept.
God’s heartbreak has been chronicled throughout Lent--covenants made, covenants broken, God disappointed, God heartbroken by his creation.
The heartbreak of Jesus is also known--he wailed with sadness at the death of his friend Lazarus, he wailed with frustration at the money changers in the temple, and he wailed with fear and pain in the garden and on the cross.
Today’s Gospel gives us a hint of this heartbreak-- Jesus asks God if the suffering he is about to endure is really necessary. Isn’t there another way? Another way to change the heart of humanity, another way to bring in a completely different type of love?
No. God is clear, this is what needs to happen. The heartbreak of God at the death of Jesus is needed. The tears are needed, the agony has to happen. Not because we have a malicious, hurtful God, but because sometimes things need to break in order to grow .
This happens all the time. Something breaks and as a result we find ourselves stronger. Don’t you think this economic crisis will, in the end, bring us into a new way of doing business, into a new economic reality, which will be stronger, more resistant to the darkness of greed?
Think about learning something new. Skiing, golfing, the computer, a language. Aren’t the mistakes made while trying something new helpful? We learn from them. And when we learn from our mistakes something new emerges….a light bulb goes off and we are changed. Our mistakes make us different. Our mistakes make us better. Our mistakes strengthen us.
Mistakes, breaking, crying, hurting—all of this is part of our humanity, part of us. It is inevitable that we will break, cry and hurt…and it’s inevitable we will come out of it a little stronger.
You know why Jesus’ ministry was focused on the fringe of society the outcasts? Because—I think-- such people had a lot of heartbreak and their broken-ness made them ripe for growth.
Why is that? Why do we have to break a little to get stronger? Why is it that we have to cry to get clearer? Why is it that we have to hurt to grow?
Because each time we break, each time we cry, each time we hurt we open up more space for God .
And that’s all God needs---space. That’s why my favorite day of the Triduum—the three days of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and Holy Saturday is Holy Saturday. The day of silence, the day of death, the day of quiet. All the betrayal and agony leads to this empty space, this abyss this loneliness this nothingness. A day when we have been stripped of everything and are able, finally to receive the full measure of God’s love. Because, as Mother Liza reminded us last week in her sermon, we need to receive God. And to receive God we need to be empty. As God told the prophet Jeremiah in today’s Old Testament lesson, this covenant, this final covenant between God and us is written on our hearts, it is inside of us, underneath all the crud we pile up. That’s why we fast, that’s why we quiet ourselves that’s why we discipline ourselves, we strip ourselves so that the love of God can grow from that spot deep within us where God placed his loving touch while we were still in our mother’s womb.
Jesus in his human-ness needed this broken-ness as well. Jesus had agony, Jesus had heartbreak, Jesus shed tears. Jesus in his human nature needed to break, he needed to agonize, he needed to cry---he needed to clear out space for the divine light to shine through. Jesus’ cried out in agony not because he didn’t want to do what he had to do, but because the only way he could do what he had to do was to break his human form so his divine self could shine through. To reach his full stature as The Christ, Jesus had to break.
Sometimes we must break in order to grow. Sometimes we must empty ourselves to be filled. And sometimes we must cry to be cleansed.
That’s our job as Lent winds down….to allow all our discipline of these forty days strip us bare breaking open our hearts and cleansing ourselves with tears. When we do that we allow a new and right spirit to take up residence deep with in us—a spirit of wonder, love and surprise found at the empty tomb on Easter morning.
Because no matter how much we cry, no matter how much we wail, no matter how much we try to avoid it, God loves us so much he gave us his Son to take the human journey with us and for once and for all open up a space wide enough for each of us to enter, stripped bare and ready to receive a new life in Christ. A life cleansed by tears and illuminated with divine strength.
Amen.
Saturday, March 28, 2009
Talking to tweens and teens about sex
From this week's Newsweek:
"What kids think about sex might surprise you, but what they're doing sexually—and when they're doing it—might surprise you even more. In a study this year of more than a 1,000 tweens (kids between the ages 11 and 14), commissioned by Liz Claiborne Inc. and loveisrespect.org, nearly half said they'd had a boy- or girlfriend, and one in four said that oral sex or going "all the way" is part of a tween romance. The parents' view? Only 7 percent of parents surveyed in this study think their own child has gone any further than "making out."
The whole subject of sex is so delicate that some parents put off talking to kids about it, believing their child is still too young, or because they're not sure what to say. They "finally sit down to have the Big Talk," says Dr. Mark Schuster, chief of general pediatrics at Children's Hospital Boston, "and it turns out their teen is already having sex." (The average age of first intercourse in the United States is 16, according to the Centers for Disease Control)
The good news is that there's plenty of evidence indicating that kids whose parents do discuss sex with them are more cautious than their peers—more likely to put off sex or use contraception. They also have fewer partners. Coaching for parents helps, as well. Parents who participated in a training program about how to have those difficult conversations, Schuster reports, were six times more likely than a control group to have discussed condoms with their children. So what did the parents learn? Here are nine "talking sex" tips:
1. Find the moment. Instead of saying "it's time to talk about you-know," let the topic arise naturally—say, during a love scene in a video, or while passing a couple on a park bench. It helps to think about opening lines in advance.
2. Don't be vague about your own feelings. You know you don't want your ninth grader getting pregnant, but is oral sex OK? How do you feel about your daughter going steady or dating several boys casually? Consider the messages you want your kids to hear.
3. Anticipate the roadblocks that a teen or tween might set up. If they tend to say "uh huh," try asking open-ended questions or suggesting a variety of possible ways someone might feel in a relevant situation.
4. Be a good listener. Avoid lecturing and don't interrupt once your child opens up. Restate in your own words what you hear and identify feelings.
5. Help your child consider the pros and cons of sexual choices.
6. Relate sex and physical intimacy to love, caring and respect for themselves and their partner.
7. Teach strategies to manage sexual pressure. It may not be obvious to your daughter that she can suggest going to the movies or a restaurant instead of lounging with her boyfriend on a sofa without adult supervision. Or she may not know she can set and stick to a clear rule (such as no touching below the waist). Discuss the fact that "no means no." A simple strategy like getting up and going to the bathroom can give a girl time to regroup.
8. Don't be afraid to get down to specifics. If your teenage daughter or son is spending every afternoon alone with a main squeeze, and you're simply hoping they're using condoms, go ahead and ask whether they are sexually active and using birth control. You can buy a box of condoms and talk about how to use them—practice on a cucumber. A good laugh won't hurt your relationship.
9. Make the conversation ongoing—not a talk that happens once or twice. For more tips on talking to kids about sex and other sensitive issues, visit Children Now, a nonprofit nonpartisan organization's guide to talking to kids of all ages about sexual subjects. Or The American Academy of Child & Adolescent Psychiatry's "Facts for Families." "
"What kids think about sex might surprise you, but what they're doing sexually—and when they're doing it—might surprise you even more. In a study this year of more than a 1,000 tweens (kids between the ages 11 and 14), commissioned by Liz Claiborne Inc. and loveisrespect.org, nearly half said they'd had a boy- or girlfriend, and one in four said that oral sex or going "all the way" is part of a tween romance. The parents' view? Only 7 percent of parents surveyed in this study think their own child has gone any further than "making out."
The whole subject of sex is so delicate that some parents put off talking to kids about it, believing their child is still too young, or because they're not sure what to say. They "finally sit down to have the Big Talk," says Dr. Mark Schuster, chief of general pediatrics at Children's Hospital Boston, "and it turns out their teen is already having sex." (The average age of first intercourse in the United States is 16, according to the Centers for Disease Control)
The good news is that there's plenty of evidence indicating that kids whose parents do discuss sex with them are more cautious than their peers—more likely to put off sex or use contraception. They also have fewer partners. Coaching for parents helps, as well. Parents who participated in a training program about how to have those difficult conversations, Schuster reports, were six times more likely than a control group to have discussed condoms with their children. So what did the parents learn? Here are nine "talking sex" tips:
1. Find the moment. Instead of saying "it's time to talk about you-know," let the topic arise naturally—say, during a love scene in a video, or while passing a couple on a park bench. It helps to think about opening lines in advance.
2. Don't be vague about your own feelings. You know you don't want your ninth grader getting pregnant, but is oral sex OK? How do you feel about your daughter going steady or dating several boys casually? Consider the messages you want your kids to hear.
3. Anticipate the roadblocks that a teen or tween might set up. If they tend to say "uh huh," try asking open-ended questions or suggesting a variety of possible ways someone might feel in a relevant situation.
4. Be a good listener. Avoid lecturing and don't interrupt once your child opens up. Restate in your own words what you hear and identify feelings.
5. Help your child consider the pros and cons of sexual choices.
6. Relate sex and physical intimacy to love, caring and respect for themselves and their partner.
7. Teach strategies to manage sexual pressure. It may not be obvious to your daughter that she can suggest going to the movies or a restaurant instead of lounging with her boyfriend on a sofa without adult supervision. Or she may not know she can set and stick to a clear rule (such as no touching below the waist). Discuss the fact that "no means no." A simple strategy like getting up and going to the bathroom can give a girl time to regroup.
8. Don't be afraid to get down to specifics. If your teenage daughter or son is spending every afternoon alone with a main squeeze, and you're simply hoping they're using condoms, go ahead and ask whether they are sexually active and using birth control. You can buy a box of condoms and talk about how to use them—practice on a cucumber. A good laugh won't hurt your relationship.
9. Make the conversation ongoing—not a talk that happens once or twice. For more tips on talking to kids about sex and other sensitive issues, visit Children Now, a nonprofit nonpartisan organization's guide to talking to kids of all ages about sexual subjects. Or The American Academy of Child & Adolescent Psychiatry's "Facts for Families." "
Friday, March 20, 2009
This is from the online site: sojo.net
An interesting perspective on the Liberian issue from halfway across the country.
Liberian Deportation Threat One More Reason for Immigration Reform
by Bailey Craft 03-18-2009
The clock is ticking for thousands of Liberian immigrants as the month of March draws to a close. I recently read a story in the Minneapolis Star Tribune concerning the temporary immigration status of more than 3,600 Liberians nationwide that is set to expire at the end of March. Unless an extension is granted by President Obama, these immigrants will face deportation. To postpone the deadline for at least another 18 months would provide Congress with time to consider a permanent solution – legislation providing a path to citizenship.
Liberians were granted temporary status after fleeing the civil war that erupted in their homeland. The conflict lasted well over a decade, and conditions in Liberia remain unstable. Liberia’s fragile infrastructure is not yet ready to absorb thousands of deportees, as it is plagued with housing, electrical and water shortages, as well as high unemployment and crime rates.
As a Minnesotan, this issue is extremely relevant. Minnesota has one of the largest Liberian populations in the nation, and over 1,000 Liberians in my state would be deported if nothing is done. Forcibly uprooting hardworking members of my community will have a devastating impact on these families who have made the United States their home. The sudden loss will negatively impact various sectors, as many are taxpaying home and business owners, students, health care professionals, and members of local congregations. Deportations will further deplete communities ransacked by the current economic crisis.
With Liberia’s current conditions in mind, many parents would face the agonizing choice of whether to leave their children behind in the United States or bring them to Liberia. Families will be ripped apart, and children left with friends or relatives who may not be in a position to provide care. It is unjust to force a parent to have to choose either physical safety or family unification.
Father James Wilson, a Liberian and priest at St. Philip and St. Thomas Episcopal Churches in Saint Paul, asserts, “Liberians go through this immigration nightmare, which I find very disturbing on the basis of biblical social justice ethics that call for welcoming strangers, treating them justly as you too were once strangers or aliens (Exodus 23:9).”
Liberians in our communities have ceased to become strangers; they have lived and worked alongside of us for nearly two decades.
It is imperative to respect the human dignity of these individuals and acknowledge and honor the numerous contributions they have made to our communities and our country.
Action to extend the March 31st deadline is needed now, but this situation underlines the need for long-term comprehensive immigration reform. It is unjust for a nation to allow people to settle and build their lives in the United States for nearly two decades yet withhold the opportunity to become citizens. An extension of the deadline by an administrative order would give Congress time to consider legislation which could provide a path to citizenship. Please join me in calling the White House and urging President Obama to extend the deadline of deportation for Liberians beyond March 31, 2009.
Bailey Craft is a volunteer program assistant at the Minnesota Literacy Council which provides literacy services to immigrants and refugees.
An interesting perspective on the Liberian issue from halfway across the country.
Liberian Deportation Threat One More Reason for Immigration Reform
by Bailey Craft 03-18-2009
The clock is ticking for thousands of Liberian immigrants as the month of March draws to a close. I recently read a story in the Minneapolis Star Tribune concerning the temporary immigration status of more than 3,600 Liberians nationwide that is set to expire at the end of March. Unless an extension is granted by President Obama, these immigrants will face deportation. To postpone the deadline for at least another 18 months would provide Congress with time to consider a permanent solution – legislation providing a path to citizenship.
Liberians were granted temporary status after fleeing the civil war that erupted in their homeland. The conflict lasted well over a decade, and conditions in Liberia remain unstable. Liberia’s fragile infrastructure is not yet ready to absorb thousands of deportees, as it is plagued with housing, electrical and water shortages, as well as high unemployment and crime rates.
As a Minnesotan, this issue is extremely relevant. Minnesota has one of the largest Liberian populations in the nation, and over 1,000 Liberians in my state would be deported if nothing is done. Forcibly uprooting hardworking members of my community will have a devastating impact on these families who have made the United States their home. The sudden loss will negatively impact various sectors, as many are taxpaying home and business owners, students, health care professionals, and members of local congregations. Deportations will further deplete communities ransacked by the current economic crisis.
With Liberia’s current conditions in mind, many parents would face the agonizing choice of whether to leave their children behind in the United States or bring them to Liberia. Families will be ripped apart, and children left with friends or relatives who may not be in a position to provide care. It is unjust to force a parent to have to choose either physical safety or family unification.
Father James Wilson, a Liberian and priest at St. Philip and St. Thomas Episcopal Churches in Saint Paul, asserts, “Liberians go through this immigration nightmare, which I find very disturbing on the basis of biblical social justice ethics that call for welcoming strangers, treating them justly as you too were once strangers or aliens (Exodus 23:9).”
Liberians in our communities have ceased to become strangers; they have lived and worked alongside of us for nearly two decades.
It is imperative to respect the human dignity of these individuals and acknowledge and honor the numerous contributions they have made to our communities and our country.
Action to extend the March 31st deadline is needed now, but this situation underlines the need for long-term comprehensive immigration reform. It is unjust for a nation to allow people to settle and build their lives in the United States for nearly two decades yet withhold the opportunity to become citizens. An extension of the deadline by an administrative order would give Congress time to consider legislation which could provide a path to citizenship. Please join me in calling the White House and urging President Obama to extend the deadline of deportation for Liberians beyond March 31, 2009.
Bailey Craft is a volunteer program assistant at the Minnesota Literacy Council which provides literacy services to immigrants and refugees.
Monday, March 2, 2009
Sermons, Youth and Lent etc.
Hi all,
Below is my sermon from yesterday, the text was The Noahic Covenant in Genesis.
At Youth Group we discussed Lent and what Lent means to each of us. I was pleased with the conversation about adding things to your life as a very viable option--Lent isn't necessarily about giving things up. But, that said, Nick's giving up his favorite video game is a very thoughtful discipline. Anyway, it was a great conversation, as always.
"God's My Bad"
Lent 1 Year B St. Paul's Cathedral, Buffalo New York
The Rev'd Cathy Dempesy
“My bad” is a modern day way of saying, “oops, I’m so sorry-- I take full responsibility for this. I screwed up and this is my fault.” This notion of “ my bad” is a good synopsis for today’s reading from Genesis. God says to humanity: “My Bad! I let my emotions get the best of me and obliterated my creation with the raging flood. I am sorry. My bad.”
Every relationship needs to have “my bad” room. Each party in a relationship must be able—and willing-- to say, “oh man that was lousy, I’m sorry” or “you know I blew it, I apologize.” Part of successful couple’s counseling is to teach partners how to have productive arguments. There will be disagreements that’s a given, what matters is how we express those disagreements and how we resolve them so we can move on. A lingering, unresolved disagreement is a quick and potent poison to any relationship. But having the skill --the tools to work through those disagreements is a soothing balm to relationships.
Often when couples come in for pre-marital counseling they cringe at the subject of disagreements—and they sure don’t want to discuss how these fights unfold. They’d rather deny that any discord exists at all. It is then that I remind them that the covenant of marriage is not about never being mad at each other. On the contrary it’s about sticking with each other even when mad. It’s about loving each other in sickness, in bad times, in poverty….it’s about not Bailing at the first sign of trouble (Now obviously there are any number of scenarios where the covenant of marriage must be dissolved—but what I am talking about are regular every day dissapointments, hurt, frustrtaion). Covenants, solemn contracts, oaths, bonds, are designed to keep us together—in relationship-- when we would rather just break apart.
Today God makes just such a promise, an oath to Noah and all the inhabitants of the ark: Never again will God destroy the earth through the raging waters of a flood. Among all the covenants God has made with humanity this one is unique, for this covenant, this promise, was wholly one-sided. As German theologian Gerard Von Rad said, this promise requires absolutely nothing of creation, it places all the limits, all the boundaries on God.
Boundaries on God? Why would our omnipotent, omniscient Creator need boundaries, need limits?
Because God is fully, completely, head over heels, in love with us.
And when one –even God—finds themselves so in love, great passions are stirred. And when great passions are stirred anyone can lose their mind. Even God!…
Have you ever lashed out at the one you love most in the world? We do so, not out of malice but out of confusion, frustration and hurt. When we start loving someone we start building up the possibility—the probability of hurt… God did the same with his creation, the more he loved us, the greater the hurt. Now had God been a distant, uninvolved, disconnected Creator, God never would have been so hurt and wouldn’t have lashed out of that hurt, that disappointment that sadness. But God isn’t distant, God is involved God is connected.
The flood was God’s gut reaction to our behavior. God became so derailed by his love for us, so stirred with passion for us, that he forgot the truth of our human nature—he forgot that we would, eventually, become recalcitrant, ungrateful and forgetful. And when that happened, when we turned our backs on God, out of God’s own frustration and sadness he tossed the whole lot of creation, save those on the ark, back into the chaos of water and darkness...the muck from which he created it all in the first place.
But God so loved us, he cleared the skies, dried the earth and told Noah he’d never again let his disappointment get the best of him, never lash out so violently. God could have just retreated to a disconnected place far from our reach, but instead God stayed with us. In his divine persistence, God stayed (and continues to stay) in relationship with us. In a relationship where God is always ready to receive us, a relationship where all we need to do is show up willing to let go of our temptations, our doubt, our fear, willing to empty ourselves and give God a chance to fill us up.
Clearly, this is hard for us.
And that’s what makes Lent so wonderful. A whole 40 days to focus on shedding all that blocks our way, freeing ourselves to accept a relationship with a God who is absolutely crazy in love with us. This journey of Lent allows us to ready ourselves for the greatest and most miraculous of all the Biblical covenants. This covenant of a new life in Christ a covenant in which God no longer communicates through messengers and emissaries, but comes to us himself, in the person of Jesus of Nazareth. God, through His Son, goes where we’ve all gone and will go, to the darkest reaches of our human nature---anger, confusion, doubt, fear and death. From the cleansing waters of our baptism to the terrors and temptations of our wilderness, to the fear of death, God has been there.
This Lenten journey has been taken before….by God, through Jesus, his beloved Son.
Everything that tempts us, everything that derails us has already been defeated by God. Evil threw all it had at Jesus in the wilderness yet Jesus resisted it because he let the peace of God, the understanding of God and the grace of God fill him. Through Jesus, God has defeated our doubts, our fears, our rejection. By filling Jesus with His love, God has given us a way to empty ourselves. In Jesus God has given us a way to toss out all the darkness and to come to Him stripped bare redy to be filled.
May we enter the wilderness of Lent with a willingness to be emptied of everything that holds us back…may our Lenten journey be a time for us to say to God, “my bad. I’m sorry for my neglect, I’m ready to let go, to empty myself of worry doubt and fear and let you, my beloved God, fill my heart, my mind and my soul --because only when empty can we receive the full measure of God’s gift to us, the promise shown in every rainbow, the oath made at every baptism, the vow God made, the covenant which requires nothing of us other than the acceptance that our Creator God is crazy head over heals in love with us.
Amen.
Below is my sermon from yesterday, the text was The Noahic Covenant in Genesis.
At Youth Group we discussed Lent and what Lent means to each of us. I was pleased with the conversation about adding things to your life as a very viable option--Lent isn't necessarily about giving things up. But, that said, Nick's giving up his favorite video game is a very thoughtful discipline. Anyway, it was a great conversation, as always.
"God's My Bad"
Lent 1 Year B St. Paul's Cathedral, Buffalo New York
The Rev'd Cathy Dempesy
“My bad” is a modern day way of saying, “oops, I’m so sorry-- I take full responsibility for this. I screwed up and this is my fault.” This notion of “ my bad” is a good synopsis for today’s reading from Genesis. God says to humanity: “My Bad! I let my emotions get the best of me and obliterated my creation with the raging flood. I am sorry. My bad.”
Every relationship needs to have “my bad” room. Each party in a relationship must be able—and willing-- to say, “oh man that was lousy, I’m sorry” or “you know I blew it, I apologize.” Part of successful couple’s counseling is to teach partners how to have productive arguments. There will be disagreements that’s a given, what matters is how we express those disagreements and how we resolve them so we can move on. A lingering, unresolved disagreement is a quick and potent poison to any relationship. But having the skill --the tools to work through those disagreements is a soothing balm to relationships.
Often when couples come in for pre-marital counseling they cringe at the subject of disagreements—and they sure don’t want to discuss how these fights unfold. They’d rather deny that any discord exists at all. It is then that I remind them that the covenant of marriage is not about never being mad at each other. On the contrary it’s about sticking with each other even when mad. It’s about loving each other in sickness, in bad times, in poverty….it’s about not Bailing at the first sign of trouble (Now obviously there are any number of scenarios where the covenant of marriage must be dissolved—but what I am talking about are regular every day dissapointments, hurt, frustrtaion). Covenants, solemn contracts, oaths, bonds, are designed to keep us together—in relationship-- when we would rather just break apart.
Today God makes just such a promise, an oath to Noah and all the inhabitants of the ark: Never again will God destroy the earth through the raging waters of a flood. Among all the covenants God has made with humanity this one is unique, for this covenant, this promise, was wholly one-sided. As German theologian Gerard Von Rad said, this promise requires absolutely nothing of creation, it places all the limits, all the boundaries on God.
Boundaries on God? Why would our omnipotent, omniscient Creator need boundaries, need limits?
Because God is fully, completely, head over heels, in love with us.
And when one –even God—finds themselves so in love, great passions are stirred. And when great passions are stirred anyone can lose their mind. Even God!…
Have you ever lashed out at the one you love most in the world? We do so, not out of malice but out of confusion, frustration and hurt. When we start loving someone we start building up the possibility—the probability of hurt… God did the same with his creation, the more he loved us, the greater the hurt. Now had God been a distant, uninvolved, disconnected Creator, God never would have been so hurt and wouldn’t have lashed out of that hurt, that disappointment that sadness. But God isn’t distant, God is involved God is connected.
The flood was God’s gut reaction to our behavior. God became so derailed by his love for us, so stirred with passion for us, that he forgot the truth of our human nature—he forgot that we would, eventually, become recalcitrant, ungrateful and forgetful. And when that happened, when we turned our backs on God, out of God’s own frustration and sadness he tossed the whole lot of creation, save those on the ark, back into the chaos of water and darkness...the muck from which he created it all in the first place.
But God so loved us, he cleared the skies, dried the earth and told Noah he’d never again let his disappointment get the best of him, never lash out so violently. God could have just retreated to a disconnected place far from our reach, but instead God stayed with us. In his divine persistence, God stayed (and continues to stay) in relationship with us. In a relationship where God is always ready to receive us, a relationship where all we need to do is show up willing to let go of our temptations, our doubt, our fear, willing to empty ourselves and give God a chance to fill us up.
Clearly, this is hard for us.
And that’s what makes Lent so wonderful. A whole 40 days to focus on shedding all that blocks our way, freeing ourselves to accept a relationship with a God who is absolutely crazy in love with us. This journey of Lent allows us to ready ourselves for the greatest and most miraculous of all the Biblical covenants. This covenant of a new life in Christ a covenant in which God no longer communicates through messengers and emissaries, but comes to us himself, in the person of Jesus of Nazareth. God, through His Son, goes where we’ve all gone and will go, to the darkest reaches of our human nature---anger, confusion, doubt, fear and death. From the cleansing waters of our baptism to the terrors and temptations of our wilderness, to the fear of death, God has been there.
This Lenten journey has been taken before….by God, through Jesus, his beloved Son.
Everything that tempts us, everything that derails us has already been defeated by God. Evil threw all it had at Jesus in the wilderness yet Jesus resisted it because he let the peace of God, the understanding of God and the grace of God fill him. Through Jesus, God has defeated our doubts, our fears, our rejection. By filling Jesus with His love, God has given us a way to empty ourselves. In Jesus God has given us a way to toss out all the darkness and to come to Him stripped bare redy to be filled.
May we enter the wilderness of Lent with a willingness to be emptied of everything that holds us back…may our Lenten journey be a time for us to say to God, “my bad. I’m sorry for my neglect, I’m ready to let go, to empty myself of worry doubt and fear and let you, my beloved God, fill my heart, my mind and my soul --because only when empty can we receive the full measure of God’s gift to us, the promise shown in every rainbow, the oath made at every baptism, the vow God made, the covenant which requires nothing of us other than the acceptance that our Creator God is crazy head over heals in love with us.
Amen.
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