Sunday, February 14, 2016
Wrestling with God as a Lenten Discipline Lent 1 Holy Communion, Lakeview February 14, 2016
Today, as we settle into the first full week of Lent we have a great opportunity to spend some time considering that all time favorite Lenten topic: Sin.
I am prone to insomnia and nine times out of ten my insomnia isn’t because I drank too much coffee, it’s because I’m doing my best impersonation of Jacob by wrestling God. I toss and turn all night running some problem over and over in my head. When in the grips of insomnia I am in the grip of sin because I am holding onto a problem, a concern, a worry that, frankly I need to turn over to God. My insomnia doesn’t leave God any room. There’s only one explanation for me boxing out God, for holding onto a problem throughout a long sleepless night: I’m not trusting God to handle it. I convince myself that I have to come up with the solution myself, that it isn’t worth God’s time and concern….that God couldn’t be bothered.
In other words, I SHUT GOD OUT. And right there, in those three little words, is a perfect definition of sin: shutting God out. You see sin isn’t just some laundry list of misdeeds that we need to atone for before being in God’s favor. We are ALWAYS in God’s favor, we’re always God’s beloved. But when we close the door on our relationship with God, when we shut God out, we harm ourselves. And us being hurt? That’s what hurts God. Closing the door on our relationship with God hurts us so in turn, God is hurt. That’s sin.
Therefore, the heart of our Lenten journey is to do whatever we can to LET GOD IN. It’s about entering into an active and trusting relationship with God.
Faith is all about relationship…. our relationships with each other, our relationship to all those whom we encounter outside these doors, but above all else, faith is about the relationship we have with God and the relationship we allow God to have with us.
Let me explain:
Our life is on a continuum….every decision we make, every action moves us on this continuum. At one end is God at the other end is what some people might call Satan, others might call darkness, still others call evil and what I call “Not God.” What we do—all day, every day--- either moves us closer to or farther away, from God.
Are you moving toward God or away? Are your choices fueled by light and grace or by darkness and despair? Do you trust God? I mean really trust God?
In today’s Gospel Jesus trusted God. And boy, did that tick off the forces of darkness, the evil one, the Not God in our world. Jesus and Satan have a wrestling match of their own in the wilderness. And guess who wins?
Remember, Jesus has just been baptized, anointed as “God’s beloved,”when he’s thrust into 40 days of blistering heat, endless hunger, heart wrenching loneliness and 40 nights of bitter cold, desperate sleeplessness, and terrifying visions. The Devil is throwing everything but the kitchen sink at our Lord but because Jesus refuses to shut God out, because Jesus trusts in God no matter what; the temptations of the darkness, the evil forces of this world, the pull of His humanity don’t win. In today’s Gospel, light defeats dark, hope overwhelms despair, Love beats hate and the march of God’s goodness continues on its way.
Today’s Gospel gives us hope; hope that as we begin our Lenten journey, the steady drumbeat of the light of Christ given to us at Christmas and Epiphany will fuel us.
And that’s good news because to really do up Lent right, we need that light. For it’s the light of Christ that shines in all the dark corners of our lives. You know those parts of us that we hide from, those things we left undone, or those things we’ve done that we wish we could undo.
The work of Lent is opening up space for God to come in and help us with the spring (or in the case of this year, deep winter)-cleaning of our souls. In Lent we change the rhythm of our lives… not just so we can say that we successfully avoided chocolate or red meat or swearing or smoking for these 40 days, no we change the rhythm of our lives so that God can slip in and show up in the most unexpected places.
And this is where it can get a little tricky… changing the rhythm of our lives makes us vulnerable. Being vulnerable is a frightening prospect---look at how vulnerable Jesus was during those 40 days in the wilderness. He had two choices as the devil led him around: stay in fear and trepidation, holding on for dear life, or move into trust and faith, letting Go and letting God.
Guess what? We are faced with this same choice each and every day….we can give into darkness or we can trust the light. We can hold on to our fear or we can let Go and let God.
Lent is about turning our hungers, our fears, our doubts and our worry over to God because this is what Lent’s all about; it’s learning how to trust that God is always the one we can turn too, that God is always the one who can feed our hungers like no one or no thing else.
So welcome to Lent, where we learn that the sin of our wrestling matches with God is not something to be ashamed of, it’s something to embrace, because it’s only in experiencing some dark nights of Not God that we can gain the courage and the trust to move fully and wholly into the bright days of Only God. And for that, we say Thanks be to God. Amen+
Thursday, February 11, 2016
Ash Wednesday 2016--St Andrew's Burt
+A couple of years ago, at the
church I used to serve, Good Shepherd Buffalo, An 8 yr. old boy, at our Shrove
Tuesday Pancake supper ask me a pretty profound question: “what’s with these
ashes? I don’t understand.”
What a great question, right?
And you know what?
In over eight years of ordained ministry no one-- NO ONE-- has ever asked me what Ash Wednesday was all about. And I don’t think that’s because everyone knows what’s with these ashes… I think we just don’t think about it all that much.
So what IS with these ashes?
Ash Wednesday is a day in our church year reserved for our humanity. Our utter and complete and thorough humanity.
Ash Wednesday is a day when that humanity is spread out in front of us. In all its dustiness.
Ash Wednesday is a day to remember that without God, all that we are---all the stuff that makes us uniquely us----is nothing but dust. Ash Wednesday is a day to remember that Without God we are empty, we are dull, we are without substance.
Without God we are just dust.
Ash Wednesday marks the first day of Lent and Lent is the forty-day journey when we strive to open ourselves to God, to re-engage in a relationship with God. Lent is a journey from us to God and back again. Lent is a season for getting to know God and inviting God to get to know us…the real, full and true, us. On Ash Wednesday we open our dustiness to the cleansing grace of God. It’s the first day of our Lenten trek to Easter, a journey to intentionally show God more than just the spit and polish shiny “us” of Sundays, a journey where we expose God to the fullness of who we are--from the glorious, prayerful and committed Christian parts of us to the darker, more doubting, more despairing, more self-loathing, yes even more sinful and wretched parts of us.
So what about these ashes?
Well as I told that young man, when these ashes are pressed into your skin, remember this: without God, we are nothing but dust.
But with God?
Well with God we are all that we can dream, all that we can imagine, all that we can long for.
And then some.
My wish for all of us, is that we have a well-done Lent.
What a great question, right?
And you know what?
In over eight years of ordained ministry no one-- NO ONE-- has ever asked me what Ash Wednesday was all about. And I don’t think that’s because everyone knows what’s with these ashes… I think we just don’t think about it all that much.
So what IS with these ashes?
Ash Wednesday is a day in our church year reserved for our humanity. Our utter and complete and thorough humanity.
Ash Wednesday is a day when that humanity is spread out in front of us. In all its dustiness.
Ash Wednesday is a day to remember that without God, all that we are---all the stuff that makes us uniquely us----is nothing but dust. Ash Wednesday is a day to remember that Without God we are empty, we are dull, we are without substance.
Without God we are just dust.
Ash Wednesday marks the first day of Lent and Lent is the forty-day journey when we strive to open ourselves to God, to re-engage in a relationship with God. Lent is a journey from us to God and back again. Lent is a season for getting to know God and inviting God to get to know us…the real, full and true, us. On Ash Wednesday we open our dustiness to the cleansing grace of God. It’s the first day of our Lenten trek to Easter, a journey to intentionally show God more than just the spit and polish shiny “us” of Sundays, a journey where we expose God to the fullness of who we are--from the glorious, prayerful and committed Christian parts of us to the darker, more doubting, more despairing, more self-loathing, yes even more sinful and wretched parts of us.
So what about these ashes?
Well as I told that young man, when these ashes are pressed into your skin, remember this: without God, we are nothing but dust.
But with God?
Well with God we are all that we can dream, all that we can imagine, all that we can long for.
And then some.
My wish for all of us, is that we have a well-done Lent.
A well-done Lent allows God
plenty of room and plenty of time to get to know us, the good the bad and the
ugly.
A well-done Lent allows us to get to know God—the forgiving, loving and delighted God who wants nothing more than to meet us with joy at the empty tomb.
A well-done Lent begins with the dust of our mortality and ends in the resurrection light of Love on Easter morning.
A well-done Lent is forty days of making room for the God who creates amazing, astounding and wonderful things out of dust. The dust of you and the dust of me.
So, as those dusty ashes are pressed into your skin tonight remember that while you are but dust, you can be, you will be and you are, so very much more, thanks be to God.
May these forty days be a dust clearing, hope starting, love expressing journey into a deeper more honest relationship with our Creator; a God, who working in us, can do so much more than we can ever ask or imagine.
Amen.
A well-done Lent allows us to get to know God—the forgiving, loving and delighted God who wants nothing more than to meet us with joy at the empty tomb.
A well-done Lent begins with the dust of our mortality and ends in the resurrection light of Love on Easter morning.
A well-done Lent is forty days of making room for the God who creates amazing, astounding and wonderful things out of dust. The dust of you and the dust of me.
So, as those dusty ashes are pressed into your skin tonight remember that while you are but dust, you can be, you will be and you are, so very much more, thanks be to God.
May these forty days be a dust clearing, hope starting, love expressing journey into a deeper more honest relationship with our Creator; a God, who working in us, can do so much more than we can ever ask or imagine.
Amen.
Sunday, February 7, 2016
Last Epiphany Yr C God's Glory Cannot Be Contained
+Have you ever been transfigured-- been so affected by an experience that your actual appearance—how you look… how you carry yourself…. changes? It can be negative—when something horrible happens and the wind is taken out of your sails, or positive, you’re in love, you’ve gotten your life back on track after some rough spots. Something about how you appear, how you present yourself to the world changes…and it shows!
But sometimes the causes of these transformations, these transfigurations aren’t as easily explained. They’re more mysterious, less concrete.
These experiences of the Divine, these experiences of the sacred are described, in Celtic culture, as Thin Places.
Thin Places are those times, those moments, those experiences when one feels especially close to the Divine. When one feels incredibly small--miniscule in the whole of the universe--- and yet also larger than life, one with God, one with all of Creation.
Maybe it occurs when witnessing a gorgeous sunset, or maybe after the birth of a child. But it can also happen in the midst of an ordinary day—driving the car, washing the dishes, checking Facebook. Thin Places are available to us all, at any time and in any place, because thin places occur when we let the guard of our humanity down long enough for the fullness of the divine to breakthrough.
I think that the Transfiguration—what happened to Jesus on that mountaintop in today’s gospel--- was a “Thin Place experience” for James, John and Peter. Now, I don’t know what exactly happened on that mountaintop ---who knows what the actual facts are, but I believe that what happened was “transfigurative” for Jesus, transformative for his friends and sacred for us all.
As we prepare for the beginning of Lent on Wednesday, we’ve fast forwarded a bit. Moving from the early part of Jesus’ ministry, to the latter part when, once and for all, he turns his followers toward Jerusalem where everything will come to a head.
This is going to be a tough journey and Jesus needs his friends with him. He needs them to get it. He needs them to prepare. He needs them ready for the increased scrutiny, for the arrest, for the torture, for the death, for Jesus being gone. Not only do they need to be ready for it all to happen, they have to be ready to feel all the emotions connected to it---They need to feel it, for only in feeling it---really feeling it---will they be open to the ultimate Thin Place: the glory, wonder and awe of the Resurrection.
And, as usual, they aren’t getting it. Maybe they don’t want to, maybe they simply can’t. And so Jesus takes them up the mountain to pray. Jesus, throughout scripture, would take retreat times-- going off by himself to pray--- and in his wisdom he knew James, John and Peter needed to get away too. They needed needed to lessen the distractions of their everyday life to get quiet enough, open enough and hopefully willing enough to let God break through. By going up the mountain, they get away, they retreat, they quiet all the noise of the world.
It’s then and only then, when they shut off the noise, that this “thing” , this “transfiguration” happens. Jesus’ appearance, his countenance changes. As one commentator puts it: “The indwelling Deity darted out its rays through the veil of Jesus’ flesh; His face shone with Divine majesty, like the sun in its strength. ”
At that transfiguring moment, God’s glory could no longer be contained within Jesus…it burst forth, all over that mountaintop, all over James, John and Peter, and all over us.
Sometimes, God’s glory just can’t be contained. Sometimes it overflows, overwhelming our senses.
That’s what happens in Thin places: we’re overwhelmed by God’s Glory. In Thin Places, God’s Glory can no longer be contained.
Gabriel’s annunciation to Mary was a Thin Place, as was Christmas morning, Jesus’ baptism, and the Presentation of Jesus in the temple. Each of these moments were times when, in the course of a routine action---Mary going about the household duties of a young Galilean woman, the birth of a baby to a poor traveling couple, the baptism of a follower of John, the fulfilling of Jewish purity laws by a devout Jewish couple, and the quick trip up a mountain for some retreat time with friends----in the course of these ordinary events, God’s radiance bursts through, our efforts to shut the Divine out of our lives, the noise of daily life which tries to outshine the radiance of God, fails, and we’re overwhelmed with what is pure and holy and sacred.
The truth is, our humanity can’t manage a steady diet of this radiance. We spend a lot of time and energy layering “life” upon the in-breaking of the Holy—the radiance of God. Therefore, moments of the Holy, Thin Place experiences--- are usually fleeting. Not because God retreats, but, because the power of God’s presence is so overwhelming, we reach back into the familiar—the noise of daily life--to ground ourselves in the routine, the ordinary and unchallenging ebb and flow of our days.
This is why we read the story of the Transfiguration right before Lent. On Wednesday we embark on a stripping down, a quieting, a simplifying of our daily life. In Lent we prepare ourselves for an encounter with the Divine and this story-- this account of a Thin Place experience-- plants something deep within us. Something transformative, that, as we settle into the barrenness of Lent, marinates, stirs, and grows so that, like James, John and Peter, when we walk that walk to Calvary, when we weep with Mary at the foot of the cross, when we linger in the seeming finality of death on Holy Saturday we are strengthened. Strengthened to feel that loss, to realize what life is like without the Divine Radiance of God through Christ. So that, just when the rigors of Lent, the nakedness of the desert, and the restriction of discipline becomes too much, when our senses long for stimulation, we stumble upon the empty tomb….overwhelmed –not by the sights and sounds of our daily world, but by the radiance of the Divine which, this time, will burst forth from our own skin, crying out Alleluia, God is alive, Alleluia, we are alive.
Amen.
But sometimes the causes of these transformations, these transfigurations aren’t as easily explained. They’re more mysterious, less concrete.
These experiences of the Divine, these experiences of the sacred are described, in Celtic culture, as Thin Places.
Thin Places are those times, those moments, those experiences when one feels especially close to the Divine. When one feels incredibly small--miniscule in the whole of the universe--- and yet also larger than life, one with God, one with all of Creation.
Maybe it occurs when witnessing a gorgeous sunset, or maybe after the birth of a child. But it can also happen in the midst of an ordinary day—driving the car, washing the dishes, checking Facebook. Thin Places are available to us all, at any time and in any place, because thin places occur when we let the guard of our humanity down long enough for the fullness of the divine to breakthrough.
I think that the Transfiguration—what happened to Jesus on that mountaintop in today’s gospel--- was a “Thin Place experience” for James, John and Peter. Now, I don’t know what exactly happened on that mountaintop ---who knows what the actual facts are, but I believe that what happened was “transfigurative” for Jesus, transformative for his friends and sacred for us all.
As we prepare for the beginning of Lent on Wednesday, we’ve fast forwarded a bit. Moving from the early part of Jesus’ ministry, to the latter part when, once and for all, he turns his followers toward Jerusalem where everything will come to a head.
This is going to be a tough journey and Jesus needs his friends with him. He needs them to get it. He needs them to prepare. He needs them ready for the increased scrutiny, for the arrest, for the torture, for the death, for Jesus being gone. Not only do they need to be ready for it all to happen, they have to be ready to feel all the emotions connected to it---They need to feel it, for only in feeling it---really feeling it---will they be open to the ultimate Thin Place: the glory, wonder and awe of the Resurrection.
And, as usual, they aren’t getting it. Maybe they don’t want to, maybe they simply can’t. And so Jesus takes them up the mountain to pray. Jesus, throughout scripture, would take retreat times-- going off by himself to pray--- and in his wisdom he knew James, John and Peter needed to get away too. They needed needed to lessen the distractions of their everyday life to get quiet enough, open enough and hopefully willing enough to let God break through. By going up the mountain, they get away, they retreat, they quiet all the noise of the world.
It’s then and only then, when they shut off the noise, that this “thing” , this “transfiguration” happens. Jesus’ appearance, his countenance changes. As one commentator puts it: “The indwelling Deity darted out its rays through the veil of Jesus’ flesh; His face shone with Divine majesty, like the sun in its strength. ”
At that transfiguring moment, God’s glory could no longer be contained within Jesus…it burst forth, all over that mountaintop, all over James, John and Peter, and all over us.
Sometimes, God’s glory just can’t be contained. Sometimes it overflows, overwhelming our senses.
That’s what happens in Thin places: we’re overwhelmed by God’s Glory. In Thin Places, God’s Glory can no longer be contained.
Gabriel’s annunciation to Mary was a Thin Place, as was Christmas morning, Jesus’ baptism, and the Presentation of Jesus in the temple. Each of these moments were times when, in the course of a routine action---Mary going about the household duties of a young Galilean woman, the birth of a baby to a poor traveling couple, the baptism of a follower of John, the fulfilling of Jewish purity laws by a devout Jewish couple, and the quick trip up a mountain for some retreat time with friends----in the course of these ordinary events, God’s radiance bursts through, our efforts to shut the Divine out of our lives, the noise of daily life which tries to outshine the radiance of God, fails, and we’re overwhelmed with what is pure and holy and sacred.
The truth is, our humanity can’t manage a steady diet of this radiance. We spend a lot of time and energy layering “life” upon the in-breaking of the Holy—the radiance of God. Therefore, moments of the Holy, Thin Place experiences--- are usually fleeting. Not because God retreats, but, because the power of God’s presence is so overwhelming, we reach back into the familiar—the noise of daily life--to ground ourselves in the routine, the ordinary and unchallenging ebb and flow of our days.
This is why we read the story of the Transfiguration right before Lent. On Wednesday we embark on a stripping down, a quieting, a simplifying of our daily life. In Lent we prepare ourselves for an encounter with the Divine and this story-- this account of a Thin Place experience-- plants something deep within us. Something transformative, that, as we settle into the barrenness of Lent, marinates, stirs, and grows so that, like James, John and Peter, when we walk that walk to Calvary, when we weep with Mary at the foot of the cross, when we linger in the seeming finality of death on Holy Saturday we are strengthened. Strengthened to feel that loss, to realize what life is like without the Divine Radiance of God through Christ. So that, just when the rigors of Lent, the nakedness of the desert, and the restriction of discipline becomes too much, when our senses long for stimulation, we stumble upon the empty tomb….overwhelmed –not by the sights and sounds of our daily world, but by the radiance of the Divine which, this time, will burst forth from our own skin, crying out Alleluia, God is alive, Alleluia, we are alive.
Amen.
Sunday, January 31, 2016
Epiphany 4 Yr C Jan 31 2016 The Love that Begins All Love St Luke’s Attica/Christ Church Albion
+Couple’s preparing for marriage almost always choose today’s Epistle reading for their wedding. Invariably, they choose it because they think it so clearly expresses the love they have for each other, the love which, in their mind, will be the sole focus of the wedding ceremony they’re planning. “Oh,” they exclaim, it’s PERFECT.” But then the cranky old priest informs them that this reading isn’t about their love for one another. That it doesn’t have anything to do with them directly, that St Paul didn’t think much of marriage anyway, so their love was not even on his radar as he penned these words to his flock in Corinth.
And therein lies a big problem. This reading has been given the full Hallmark make-over—and in the process it has been relegated to the “wedding reading,” so ubiquitous, that we fail to notice the profound and earth shattering message Paul was providing. You see what Paul is saying, in short, is that without God, nothing matters. Nothing.
That promotion you just got at work? Without God? Big deal.
That wonderful partner you just promised to love and to cherish until you are parted by death? Without God? Nothing.
The healing you’ve received from that horrible illness? Without God in the picture? Forget about it.
Paul is telling us that all those gifts we’ve been given, all the gifts of the spirit he’s been blathering about in the previous chapter are completely and utterly worthless—they mean absolutely NOTHING if they aren’t wrapped in, infused with, and born out of Love.
Not the love of mother to child, not the love of husband to wife, not the love of partner to partner, not the love of friend to friend, but the Love from which all these loves emanate. The Love from which all of Creation pours: God.
In his very Paul way (rambling harsh and at times convoluted) Paul is telling us that GOD IS LOVE.
God is THE LOVE that puts the warmth in the sun, the sparkle in your beloved’s eye, the giggle in a child, the blue in the sky and the hope of the world. And without it, without this Love above all other loves? Well without it our gifts, no matter how vast, no matter how amazing, no matter how cherished, end up like so many discarded toys a few days after Christmas: a bunch of twisted plastic, crumpled tissue paper, broken boxes and torn ribbons, forgotten and tossed aside.
A couple of years ago I began my Christmas Eve sermon by remembering this exchange I had with my niece Alyssa when she was a little girl:
“What’s this?” “A present for you.” “For me?” “Yes, it’s for you.” “Why?” “ Because I love you very much.”
It was either Christmas or her birthday and I was giving Alyssa a gift. Presents were kind of new to her, and she didn’t quite get that this was just for her… to keep. Forever! She was delighted beyond belief with the gift. But it wasn’t the doll or the book or the toy, it wasn’t even the thrill of receiving a gift from another. No for that little girl it was (and I might say, still is for the almost 25 year old woman she has become) the love which led me to want to give her something. That’s what gave her such a thrill. Out of her appreciation of that love, out of her love for me came her unbridled innocent response of joy: “For me? Especially for me?”
You see, little Alyssa got it right all those years ago: the REAL gift isn’t the toy or the book, or the ability to prophesy, or to heal or to preach or to do altar guild, or host coffee hour or serve on vestry—the REAL gift, the ONLY gift is Love.
We can be the greatest at what we do—the best lawyer, the best writer, the best teacher, the best nurse, the best volunteer, the best mother, the best father, the best friend, the best partner, the best the best the best—but if we do these things for our own glory and not for God’s, if we do these things for our own gain solely and not for the good of the whole, if we do these things in a vacuum oblivious to our responsibility to the world around us, then these gifts, these skills, these talents are just a noisy clanging bell signifying absolutely nothing.
The astonishing thing about this reading, the thing lost on so many of us who have heard the reading ad nauseum at weddings is this:
The Love of which Paul speaks “bears all things. Believes all things. Hopes all things.”
It. Never. Ends. Everything else—everything else—will end. All our gifts—no matter how fabulous-- all that we are and all that we have will end. It will all decay and crumble. It will all be forgotten and lost. But, not love. Not this Love that is God. Not this Love that fueled the dawn of creation. Not this Love that welled up and came to live among us in the person of Jesus Christ.
This Love, the Love beyond all understanding, the Love beyond full comprehension, the Love we can only see through a glass dimly until the Last day—this is the Love that knits us, inextricably and forever, to God. AND, it is the Love that, inextricably and forever, knits us to one other. For it is in us and through us that the Love to end all Loves, the Love that is God takes shape as the Body of Christ in this world.
So unwrap your gifts, exclaim your joy and know that this Greatest Gift of All, the Love that is God, will never end, it will never wear out and it will never ever fail us. Thanks be to God! +
***originally preached at Good Shepherd and Ascension Epiphany 4, 2013***
And therein lies a big problem. This reading has been given the full Hallmark make-over—and in the process it has been relegated to the “wedding reading,” so ubiquitous, that we fail to notice the profound and earth shattering message Paul was providing. You see what Paul is saying, in short, is that without God, nothing matters. Nothing.
That promotion you just got at work? Without God? Big deal.
That wonderful partner you just promised to love and to cherish until you are parted by death? Without God? Nothing.
The healing you’ve received from that horrible illness? Without God in the picture? Forget about it.
Paul is telling us that all those gifts we’ve been given, all the gifts of the spirit he’s been blathering about in the previous chapter are completely and utterly worthless—they mean absolutely NOTHING if they aren’t wrapped in, infused with, and born out of Love.
Not the love of mother to child, not the love of husband to wife, not the love of partner to partner, not the love of friend to friend, but the Love from which all these loves emanate. The Love from which all of Creation pours: God.
In his very Paul way (rambling harsh and at times convoluted) Paul is telling us that GOD IS LOVE.
God is THE LOVE that puts the warmth in the sun, the sparkle in your beloved’s eye, the giggle in a child, the blue in the sky and the hope of the world. And without it, without this Love above all other loves? Well without it our gifts, no matter how vast, no matter how amazing, no matter how cherished, end up like so many discarded toys a few days after Christmas: a bunch of twisted plastic, crumpled tissue paper, broken boxes and torn ribbons, forgotten and tossed aside.
A couple of years ago I began my Christmas Eve sermon by remembering this exchange I had with my niece Alyssa when she was a little girl:
“What’s this?” “A present for you.” “For me?” “Yes, it’s for you.” “Why?” “ Because I love you very much.”
It was either Christmas or her birthday and I was giving Alyssa a gift. Presents were kind of new to her, and she didn’t quite get that this was just for her… to keep. Forever! She was delighted beyond belief with the gift. But it wasn’t the doll or the book or the toy, it wasn’t even the thrill of receiving a gift from another. No for that little girl it was (and I might say, still is for the almost 25 year old woman she has become) the love which led me to want to give her something. That’s what gave her such a thrill. Out of her appreciation of that love, out of her love for me came her unbridled innocent response of joy: “For me? Especially for me?”
You see, little Alyssa got it right all those years ago: the REAL gift isn’t the toy or the book, or the ability to prophesy, or to heal or to preach or to do altar guild, or host coffee hour or serve on vestry—the REAL gift, the ONLY gift is Love.
We can be the greatest at what we do—the best lawyer, the best writer, the best teacher, the best nurse, the best volunteer, the best mother, the best father, the best friend, the best partner, the best the best the best—but if we do these things for our own glory and not for God’s, if we do these things for our own gain solely and not for the good of the whole, if we do these things in a vacuum oblivious to our responsibility to the world around us, then these gifts, these skills, these talents are just a noisy clanging bell signifying absolutely nothing.
The astonishing thing about this reading, the thing lost on so many of us who have heard the reading ad nauseum at weddings is this:
The Love of which Paul speaks “bears all things. Believes all things. Hopes all things.”
It. Never. Ends. Everything else—everything else—will end. All our gifts—no matter how fabulous-- all that we are and all that we have will end. It will all decay and crumble. It will all be forgotten and lost. But, not love. Not this Love that is God. Not this Love that fueled the dawn of creation. Not this Love that welled up and came to live among us in the person of Jesus Christ.
This Love, the Love beyond all understanding, the Love beyond full comprehension, the Love we can only see through a glass dimly until the Last day—this is the Love that knits us, inextricably and forever, to God. AND, it is the Love that, inextricably and forever, knits us to one other. For it is in us and through us that the Love to end all Loves, the Love that is God takes shape as the Body of Christ in this world.
So unwrap your gifts, exclaim your joy and know that this Greatest Gift of All, the Love that is God, will never end, it will never wear out and it will never ever fail us. Thanks be to God! +
***originally preached at Good Shepherd and Ascension Epiphany 4, 2013***
Sunday, January 24, 2016
We are One Diocese, One Body, One Faith Epiphany 3 January 24, 2016 St Luke’s Attica and Christ Church Albion
+It’s great to be with you this morning. I am the Canon for Connections in the diocese, it’s a new position established by our Bishop to further his vision of the web of grace by having someone, in addition to him, go out into the diocese to facilitate the connections between the parish and the diocese, the parish and other parishes, and people to people. As we began last year with the Be Not Afraid and the Take Heart Conversations, where over 400 people from all areas of this diocese gathered to talk about what it means to be the church today and what it take to still be the church tomorrow, the Bishop’s goal is to have our parishes connect on a variety of levels and through a variety of means. Being here today is one part of this web-spinning!
I took this job after 6 years as the Rector of the Church of the Good Shepherd and the priest at the Church of the Ascension…so besides having a new job, our family had to move out of Good Shepherd’s rectory in Buffalo to our house in the town of Lockport. I went from being The Rector, a fairly well-defined role to being this Canon for Connections, a new and not very well-defined or well-known job. I went from living in the City of Buffalo, where I have lived since moving to WNY 15 years ago to living in the country, in the hamlet of Wright’s Corners, in the town of Lockport.
Lots of changes for our family and those who know us. But these changes didn’t happen over night. We thought long and hard about them, and then we were intentional about saying good bye to the old and hello to the new.
The Jesus we meet in this morning’s gospel has also gone through a lot of changes but I think, for us, it’s easy to think that his changes came in one fell swoop—after all he is the Savior of the world----but they didn’t. It may be difficult for us to think of him needing to learn, to study and to prepare. But he did!
In this morning’s Gospel Jesus has just been baptized (the gospel we heard two weeks ago) and the Holy Spirit, which has just descended on him leads him into the wilderness for forty days and nights of challenge, temptation, fear and loneliness. Strengthened by the Holy Spirit Jesus endures it all. We catch up with him right after those 40 days during which he has prepared to take on his mantel as a teacher and preacher. He leaves and the wilderness and heads to Galilee where, we’re told, his renown grows. Jesus, to use modern phraseology has “found his voice” and begins to use it.
I suppose he could have begun his teaching and preaching right after his baptism, but he didn’t. He went on a pretty brutal retreat, where he prepared himself for all that was to come.
Remember last week when Jesus got a little snippy with his mother—telling her, when she asked him to help with the wine at the wedding in Cana , “woman, it’s not my time?” On some level he knew that he wasn’t ready for prime time yet , so while he performed the miracle he didn’t make a big deal about it, because he knew he wasn’t ready. He knew he had some more work to do before the Holy Spirit could use him to his fullest.
You know, the Holy Spirit isn’t picky. The Holy Spirit doesn’t just rely on the Savior of the world to come and do the work of God. The Holy Spirit, as Paul has been telling us these last two weeks, chooses us—each and everyone of us-- to do God’s work in the world. We—you and me, all of us--- are called to be prepared, to be ready, to be open to the Spirit so that when we hear that call, when we feel that nudge, when we are thrust out of our own wildernesses and into a hurting world that so desperately needs the light of Christ, we can respond.
So, how do we do this? How do we prepare for the work the Spirit gives us to do?
By taking seriously our baptismal promise to “continue in the apostle’s teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers.” We are to participate, as fully as we are able, in the life of the church. We’re to gather in fellowship, to study together, to pray together, to work together.
Paul tells us: “[that] in the one Spirit we [are] all baptized into [the] one body…indeed the body does not consist of one member but of many.” And every body, every community, every church, every diocese needs every member...because there are a variety of gifts, a variety of ways God can be worshipped, Christ can be proclaimed and Love for everyone everywhere, no exceptions, can be expressed.
My wish for all of us is this…that we never forget that the call of the One Spirit is to seek and serve Christ in all whom we encounter and that we always remember that there is only One Body and we, each and everyone of us, are vital parts of it, a body that answers always and forever and only to the One Spirit, the One God and the One Savior.
Amen!
I took this job after 6 years as the Rector of the Church of the Good Shepherd and the priest at the Church of the Ascension…so besides having a new job, our family had to move out of Good Shepherd’s rectory in Buffalo to our house in the town of Lockport. I went from being The Rector, a fairly well-defined role to being this Canon for Connections, a new and not very well-defined or well-known job. I went from living in the City of Buffalo, where I have lived since moving to WNY 15 years ago to living in the country, in the hamlet of Wright’s Corners, in the town of Lockport.
Lots of changes for our family and those who know us. But these changes didn’t happen over night. We thought long and hard about them, and then we were intentional about saying good bye to the old and hello to the new.
The Jesus we meet in this morning’s gospel has also gone through a lot of changes but I think, for us, it’s easy to think that his changes came in one fell swoop—after all he is the Savior of the world----but they didn’t. It may be difficult for us to think of him needing to learn, to study and to prepare. But he did!
In this morning’s Gospel Jesus has just been baptized (the gospel we heard two weeks ago) and the Holy Spirit, which has just descended on him leads him into the wilderness for forty days and nights of challenge, temptation, fear and loneliness. Strengthened by the Holy Spirit Jesus endures it all. We catch up with him right after those 40 days during which he has prepared to take on his mantel as a teacher and preacher. He leaves and the wilderness and heads to Galilee where, we’re told, his renown grows. Jesus, to use modern phraseology has “found his voice” and begins to use it.
I suppose he could have begun his teaching and preaching right after his baptism, but he didn’t. He went on a pretty brutal retreat, where he prepared himself for all that was to come.
Remember last week when Jesus got a little snippy with his mother—telling her, when she asked him to help with the wine at the wedding in Cana , “woman, it’s not my time?” On some level he knew that he wasn’t ready for prime time yet , so while he performed the miracle he didn’t make a big deal about it, because he knew he wasn’t ready. He knew he had some more work to do before the Holy Spirit could use him to his fullest.
You know, the Holy Spirit isn’t picky. The Holy Spirit doesn’t just rely on the Savior of the world to come and do the work of God. The Holy Spirit, as Paul has been telling us these last two weeks, chooses us—each and everyone of us-- to do God’s work in the world. We—you and me, all of us--- are called to be prepared, to be ready, to be open to the Spirit so that when we hear that call, when we feel that nudge, when we are thrust out of our own wildernesses and into a hurting world that so desperately needs the light of Christ, we can respond.
So, how do we do this? How do we prepare for the work the Spirit gives us to do?
By taking seriously our baptismal promise to “continue in the apostle’s teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers.” We are to participate, as fully as we are able, in the life of the church. We’re to gather in fellowship, to study together, to pray together, to work together.
Paul tells us: “[that] in the one Spirit we [are] all baptized into [the] one body…indeed the body does not consist of one member but of many.” And every body, every community, every church, every diocese needs every member...because there are a variety of gifts, a variety of ways God can be worshipped, Christ can be proclaimed and Love for everyone everywhere, no exceptions, can be expressed.
My wish for all of us is this…that we never forget that the call of the One Spirit is to seek and serve Christ in all whom we encounter and that we always remember that there is only One Body and we, each and everyone of us, are vital parts of it, a body that answers always and forever and only to the One Spirit, the One God and the One Savior.
Amen!
Sunday, January 17, 2016
It Takes All Kinds to Make the Kingdom Shine St Martins in the Fields, Grand Island Epiphany 2, 17 January 2016
+I’m so pleased to be with you this morning and I thank Fr. Earle for his hospitality. [Who knew what a party place, St Martin’s was!!! I really know how to pick my visits! ]
Today’s Gospel is one I think most of us can relate to---a wedding and the reception that follows—is a big deal.
When we got married three years ago this month, the plan was to keep the whole thing simple and to be married as part of the regular Sunday liturgy. Well, even with that goal uppermost in our minds, the whole event was complicated and we needed a lot of help to pull it off. We had the liturgy, incense, a big procession and lots and lots of music. The Bishop presided and preached, we had a close friend who is a priest assisting the Bishop, we had two deacons, a sub-deacon and a partridge in a pear tree!
All those moving parts needed coordination and required collaboration. It was complicated! And then there was the reception, held in the parish hall at the Church of the Ascension--- that small but mighty parish went into overdrive, repainting the hall, pulling up old and outdated carpet---sprucing the place up as best they could. Friends of ours arranged for the caterer, other friends arranged for people to bring additional food, my mother bought the champagne and the rest of my family helped shovel and de-ice the sidewalks leading into the church.
There were surprises, too, just like at the Wedding in Cana—no we didn’t run out of wine-- but unexpected things still came up.
A wedding requires a lot of collaboration and a wide range of talents---from those who can cook to those who can play music, plan liturgies, arrange flowers, serve the altar, usher, set up, clean up. It takes a team of folks who are good at a variety of things to pull off an event that has a lot of moving parts.
Kind of like a church. Or a diocese.
Think about how many people it takes to get St Martin’s ready for a Sunday morning. Altar Guild, choir, grounds keeping, cleaning the church, readers, chalice bearers, healing team, a sermon, [the gospel being acted out, a big party]…..lots of moving parts go into a smooth Sunday morning worship service that feeds people, strengthening them for the week ahead. Then there are the broader parts of being a parish church---you have to pay your bills so you need to do fundraisers, you need to have a stewardship team, you need vestry members, wardens and other committee chairs. You need Sunday school teachers, youth group leaders etc etc etc.
A church has a lot of moving parts. And if you multiply all those roles I just enumerated by 58 (the number of parishes we have in the diocese) that’s a whole lot of people, a whole lot of tasks requiring a whole lot of different “skill sets.”
It’s what Paul’s describing in his letter to the church in Corinth. The Spirit provides us with a variety of gifts. Which is good, because there’s a lot to do to spread the light of Christ to all whom we encounter!
A few of us are really good at some things. Others of us are really good at other things. But all of us---all of us--- possess gifts of the spirit.
Yes, even you. And you and you and you and me. All of us.
Imagine with me what our churches would look like if everyone—each and every one of us---exercised our specific gifts to, as our collect says today, shine with the radiance of Christ’s glory so that he may be known worshipped and obeyed to the ends of the earth. If we, each and every one of us, used our gifts, those “unique made especially for us by God gifts” to help illuminate the love and light of Jesus Christ; we would change this wonderful parish forever. If we, each and every one of us, used our gifts, those unique made especially for us by God gifts to help illuminate the love and light of Jesus Christ; we would change this diocese forever.
If we, each and every one of us, used our gifts, those unique made especially for us by God gifts to help illuminate the love and light of Jesus Christ, we would change this town, this region, this country, this world, forever.
Don’t think you have a gift? Don’t think you’re talented enough? Do you feel a pull to get more involved but don’t know how?
Well do I have good news for you---my job, this brand new position created by the Bishop, the Canon for Connections, my job is to help each and every parish in this diocese connect with all the other parishes. My job is also to help people and whole parishes who may want to begin to try something altogether new but don’t know how to begin or where to look for help, find other people who know how to do just what it is you’re trying to begin.
My job’s also to tell you how many things you can do, at the diocesan level that will help you discern your gifts and the gifts of those around you. My job is to help all of us use our gifts to help bring the kingdom of God to reign here on earth.
Perhaps my title should be, instead of Canon for Connections, the Canon for Gifts, the Canon for Collaboration or the Canon for helping everyone in this diocese see that it does, indeed take “all kinds” to shine with the full light of Christ.
So my charge to you, the folks of this storied parish is this---pay attention to the nudging of the Spirit, those times when you think, “what if we tried this…”or those times when you feel a pull to read the bible more fully, or respond to a need in the community of Grand Island, or get involved on the diocesan level ….pay attention to those nudges, listen to that voice, because what we learn from our readings this morning is this----“there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of services, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone.” Even you and me. Amen.
Today’s Gospel is one I think most of us can relate to---a wedding and the reception that follows—is a big deal.
When we got married three years ago this month, the plan was to keep the whole thing simple and to be married as part of the regular Sunday liturgy. Well, even with that goal uppermost in our minds, the whole event was complicated and we needed a lot of help to pull it off. We had the liturgy, incense, a big procession and lots and lots of music. The Bishop presided and preached, we had a close friend who is a priest assisting the Bishop, we had two deacons, a sub-deacon and a partridge in a pear tree!
All those moving parts needed coordination and required collaboration. It was complicated! And then there was the reception, held in the parish hall at the Church of the Ascension--- that small but mighty parish went into overdrive, repainting the hall, pulling up old and outdated carpet---sprucing the place up as best they could. Friends of ours arranged for the caterer, other friends arranged for people to bring additional food, my mother bought the champagne and the rest of my family helped shovel and de-ice the sidewalks leading into the church.
There were surprises, too, just like at the Wedding in Cana—no we didn’t run out of wine-- but unexpected things still came up.
A wedding requires a lot of collaboration and a wide range of talents---from those who can cook to those who can play music, plan liturgies, arrange flowers, serve the altar, usher, set up, clean up. It takes a team of folks who are good at a variety of things to pull off an event that has a lot of moving parts.
Kind of like a church. Or a diocese.
Think about how many people it takes to get St Martin’s ready for a Sunday morning. Altar Guild, choir, grounds keeping, cleaning the church, readers, chalice bearers, healing team, a sermon, [the gospel being acted out, a big party]…..lots of moving parts go into a smooth Sunday morning worship service that feeds people, strengthening them for the week ahead. Then there are the broader parts of being a parish church---you have to pay your bills so you need to do fundraisers, you need to have a stewardship team, you need vestry members, wardens and other committee chairs. You need Sunday school teachers, youth group leaders etc etc etc.
A church has a lot of moving parts. And if you multiply all those roles I just enumerated by 58 (the number of parishes we have in the diocese) that’s a whole lot of people, a whole lot of tasks requiring a whole lot of different “skill sets.”
It’s what Paul’s describing in his letter to the church in Corinth. The Spirit provides us with a variety of gifts. Which is good, because there’s a lot to do to spread the light of Christ to all whom we encounter!
A few of us are really good at some things. Others of us are really good at other things. But all of us---all of us--- possess gifts of the spirit.
Yes, even you. And you and you and you and me. All of us.
Imagine with me what our churches would look like if everyone—each and every one of us---exercised our specific gifts to, as our collect says today, shine with the radiance of Christ’s glory so that he may be known worshipped and obeyed to the ends of the earth. If we, each and every one of us, used our gifts, those “unique made especially for us by God gifts” to help illuminate the love and light of Jesus Christ; we would change this wonderful parish forever. If we, each and every one of us, used our gifts, those unique made especially for us by God gifts to help illuminate the love and light of Jesus Christ; we would change this diocese forever.
If we, each and every one of us, used our gifts, those unique made especially for us by God gifts to help illuminate the love and light of Jesus Christ, we would change this town, this region, this country, this world, forever.
Don’t think you have a gift? Don’t think you’re talented enough? Do you feel a pull to get more involved but don’t know how?
Well do I have good news for you---my job, this brand new position created by the Bishop, the Canon for Connections, my job is to help each and every parish in this diocese connect with all the other parishes. My job is also to help people and whole parishes who may want to begin to try something altogether new but don’t know how to begin or where to look for help, find other people who know how to do just what it is you’re trying to begin.
My job’s also to tell you how many things you can do, at the diocesan level that will help you discern your gifts and the gifts of those around you. My job is to help all of us use our gifts to help bring the kingdom of God to reign here on earth.
Perhaps my title should be, instead of Canon for Connections, the Canon for Gifts, the Canon for Collaboration or the Canon for helping everyone in this diocese see that it does, indeed take “all kinds” to shine with the full light of Christ.
So my charge to you, the folks of this storied parish is this---pay attention to the nudging of the Spirit, those times when you think, “what if we tried this…”or those times when you feel a pull to read the bible more fully, or respond to a need in the community of Grand Island, or get involved on the diocesan level ….pay attention to those nudges, listen to that voice, because what we learn from our readings this morning is this----“there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of services, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone.” Even you and me. Amen.
Sunday, January 3, 2016
Christmas 2 Yr C 2015: Growing Up is Hard to Do St John’s Wilson, St, Andrew’s, Burt January 3 2016
+To paraphrase that old Neil Sedaka song of the 1960’s: Growing Up is Hard to Do.
The scene in this morning’s Gospel rings true for anyone who has seen a child move through the pains of the teen years. Can’t you just hear Joseph and Mary?
“What’s gotten into him?” “What happened to our sweet boy?” “It’s like he’s a different person!”
Mary and Joseph are, like many parents of adolescents, exasperated when they finally locate Jesus in the temple—They’re frustrated, scared and bewildered!
Frustrated that he didn’t stay with his traveling group, not thinking how his actions affected others,
scared that they couldn’t find him and had been searching for three days and
bewildered by his strange response to them, when they finally locate him: “"Why were you searching for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father's house?" No doubt, Mary and Joseph were beside themselves—with fear and annoyance!
More so than any other time of the year, the humanity of Jesus takes center stage during the 12 days of Christmas. We marvel at the site of the precious baby lying in a manger and then today, as we wind down this brief Christmas season, we’re offered a glimpse of the early adolescent Jesus. A Jesus on the cusp of all that adolescence brings—the good, the bad and the ugly….
I don’t know about you, but I’m fascinated by the human side of Jesus---especially the growing up Jesus--- what did he think? How did he feel?
In Anne Rice’s fictional book Out of Egypt she provides her interpretation of Jesus’ childhood. She describes Jesus as “childlike but also divine, wise beyond years, yet wondering who he is and why he’s different from other boys.”
I bet this is accurate—wondering why one is different from others is a common refrain for many teens---they just don’t feel like they fit in. And that’s tough at any age. We all try to fit in and when we don’t we employ any number of coping techniques to deal with it. Some of us just try to blend in-- taking on the clothing, tastes and opinions of the majority---others of us become so outlandishly different, so intentionally separate that we ostracize others and become even more alone than before.
A burgeoning adolescent can go to both extremes. Often in the same week! It’s easy for us on the outside to think that this behavior is intentional ---that it’s designed to drive us—the adults ----insane. And, to an extent this may be true-- getting a rise out of our elders is a pastime we’ve all engaged in--but most child development experts agree that these behaviors are often as mysterious to the adolescent as they are infuriating to the adults around them. I think it fair to assume that the boy Jesus, in his fully incarnate nature, experienced a lot of these same feelings of confusion, distraction, rebellion and mystery. He was trying to figure out who the heck he was! He knew he was different and this just wasn’t a case of appearance, skill at boyhood games or economic/class standing of his family. He knew something was REALLY different about him, but so far no one had told him much.
Remember, throughout our Advent and Christmas readings we’re told that with each passing oddity—the angelic visits, the shepherds following some wild star and the strange visitors from the east, Mary pondered these things in her heart. She didn’t talk about it, as far as we know, she didn’t cry out, “what in the world is going on?!?!” Nope, Mary pondered and waited for more to be revealed. So until she was told that it was time for Jesus to know the truth of who he was, Mary was keeping quiet. But while she and Joseph ponder just who this son of their’s is, Jesus begins to explore his own heart’s desire, his own identity search.
And on this day, his heart led him to the Temple ….to His Father’s house.
Now this wasn’t some adolescent dig against Joseph, the father who raised him, this was Jesus responding to his developing sense of self which is leading him away from his earthly family and toward his spiritual one. Because, while Mary and Joseph were raising Jesus, he was and is, ultimately, God’s Son.
Jesus had to follow the draw of his identity—that of being the Son of God, because if he hadn’t claimed his rightful spot as God’s Son then we could never claim our spot as heirs to Him and as inheritors of the Kingdom of God. So yes, Jesus had to be at his Father’s house and yes that scared the dickens out of Mary and Joseph. Like any parent the safety of their child was uppermost in their hearts and minds and they would not rest until they found him safe and sound… likewise, Jesus would not…could not… rest until he found his own place of safety and security---his home, God’s house, the Temple.
On this day, this day when Jesus is drawn to the Temple, Mary and Joseph have a truth tangibly presented to them—a lesson every parent learns—that the day comes when they must let their child go. And this day had come—they needed to let Jesus go so he could grow into his full identity.
What today’s Gospel is teaching us, what the full breadth and depth of our Christmas stories tell us is this: growing into the full stature of who we’ve been created to be, whether we’re regular folk like you and me; special people set aside to do God’s amazing work, like Mary and Joseph; or the Savior of the World, like Jesus Christ, growing up, growing into who God created us to be, isn’t always easy, smooth or simple.
But, by letting him grow, by letting their Son develop his own identity, Joseph and Mary give us a wonderful Christmas gift--- a Savior who, because he lived into the fullness of his being, will now lead us into the fullness of our being, as dedicated, courageous and loving servants of God, wherever that takes us.
Amen.
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