Dear St James and St George's parishioners,
The diocese will be gathering information on reactions to the proposed Anglican Covenant now in its final form here Anglican Covenant.
Any comments or opinions concerning this would be much appreciated. We will be considering the covenant at General Convention in 2012.
John Cheek
Lay Deputy General Convention 2012
Wednesday, December 29, 2010
Sunday, December 19, 2010
A Sermon Preached by the Rev. Donna Trebilcox, Rector St. George on the Fourth Sunday of Advent - December 19, 2010 On the occasion of her last Sunday and the last service at St. George Episcopal Church, Lee, MA with the combined congregations of St. George and St. James Great Barrington.
Well, it’s been quite a journey we’ve been on through this Advent season; quite a journey the congregations of St. James and St. George have been on these past few years. And I have been thinking that our congregational journeys share many things in common with the themes of Advent: themes of HOPE, PEACE, LOVE and JOY.
Scriptural themes around God’s end time on those last Sundays in Pentecost spilled over into our first Sunday of Advent. We heard more warnings about how God would bring to an end to life as we know it in this world. Chaos would rule our ordered world, and our ordered lives. Our hearts would be filled with despair and fear for our future for the coming of our end. Nevertheless, on that first Sunday of Advent, we lit the candle of HOPE. Because scriptures also assured us that God’s end time would mark the beginning of something new. Our scripture lessons invited us to believe that everything could be redeemed. They brought us to hope that the endings we experience in our own life might also be places where God is redeeming us; places where God is making all things new.
I believe our scriptures for Advent 1 were teaching our congregations of St. George and St. James how to live in hope in the experiences of our own end times. But they do not promise that it will be easy. Because while God gives us hope, God also gives us hearts to feel our loss for things that come to an end, he gives us tears that express our pain, and he gives us words to speak our thoughts and feelings about the life we leave behind. We grieve those things that will no longer give us meaning and purpose, comfort and joy. And we fear an uncertain future. But all our scriptures in Advent remind us that God would not have us dwell in our grief and loss. God has given us the gift of hope. And it is our hope, our patient hope in God’s promise that God is doing something new IN us, and WITH us, and THROUGH us—hope that brings new meaning, new purpose and new direction for our future.
So, even with the warnings of end time we heard on Advent 1, we lit the candle of HOPE. Because hope is the antidote for our grief. It is hope that can move us through our sadness and despair. It is hope which enables us to anticipate the new life that awaits us in the new life we receive at the manger. For both our congregations this new life is bound to take us on new roads as we journey toward God’s preferred future. And it will not be helpful to yearn for roads which take us back to the places we once lived and the life we once knew. The road we travel with God will not take us there. Because once we leave behind the houses we inhabit, “you can’t go home again.” Now, if that phrase sounds familiar, perhaps you are remembering a novel, by the same name, written by American author Thomas Wolfe. You can’t go home again, even if you try. Because things change, and things come to an end. Life goes on. And God’s future awaits those who dwell in HOPE.
But don’t be deceived; hope is not a passive experience. As we await the future God has in mind for us, we also begin to live in hope and act on hope. Our focus turns to discerning God’s plan and purpose for us. We begin exploring the ways we might move forward, even as we look back in sorrow and regret. At the same time it often feels as if we are standing still. Not doing anything, really. Perhaps even shuffling our feet for a time. That’s because we are in our own time of Advent, waiting and watching for that new thing to happen. Preparing a space for God to enter into the chaos of the moment, if only just to be present with us in it. That’s when hope begins to creep into our feelings of sadness and uncertainty, and we begin to experience the gift God gives us on the second Sunday of Advent—the gift of PEACE.
Now, my experience of this peace we hear about on the Sunday of Advent 2 feels a lot like the peace Paul speaks of, I think—a “peace which passes all understanding.” It’s the kind of peace which comes to us even as we are living in the midst of sadness and uncertainty; even as we suffer the anger and tears of disillusionment and despair; even as we are subjected to the desire of those to manipulate, or manage, and control our future—we can find our peace. Because our scriptures assure us that God is with us; he will not abandon us. And knowing that God is present with us helps us find the peace we need; the peace of Advent 2 as we dwell in the hope of Advent 1.
So, on the second Sunday of Advent we lit the candle of PEACE. The kind of peace which comes from accepting that we cannot know what God knows, and we cannot know how God will do his work in us, and with us, and through us. The peace which comes from letting go of our own plans and schemes and agendas for engineering our future, so that we might discern God’s preferred future for us. It’s the peace which comes from surrendering our limited wisdom and vision for our future to Gods greater wisdom and vision for that future. It’s that peace that awaits us at the manger, whenever we are ready to surrender the chaos of our life to God. Yes, God loves us that much. God will take our fear and anxiety from us and carry us through the chaos of our moments. God loves us that much.
So we are not surprised that on the Sunday of Advent 3 we light the candle of LOVE. And love is so necessary for our journey into God’s preferred future for us. Because only God’s love for us can remove the fear which keeps us from living into the fullness of our life. Only God’s love can relieve us of fears which keep us bound to our past, or imprisoned in the dead and dying places of our life. Only God’s love can enable us to surrender our fear of letting go and trusting God to be in charge of our personal life, and the communal life of our church.
Our scriptures for Advent 3 provide a road map for our journey out of fear—into love. As John the Baptizer sits in a jail cell fearing that his prophetic role has come to naught, Jesus assures John that he IS the One God sent to redeem the world. Isaiah shows us that nothing can be born in us when we fear. In fact, our life shrinks by fear. It becomes a desert that will not blossom. On the other hand, everything is born in love. We grow by love. God’s Spirit nurtures us in love. Love keeps us open and receptive to God’s possibilities for us in creation. It is only by knowing and living in God’s love that we are able to take the risk becoming the persons God created us to be, and the church God yearns for us to be.
I especially love Isaiah’s image of the highway which can take us to our God. He makes it clear that the rough and narrow and crooked roads we lay down for ourselves as we journey through this world will not lead us to God’s plan and purpose for our life. The maps we make for our own journey through this world will not get us where God wants us to go. Only love will take us where God will lead. God’s risky, demanding, forgiving, inclusive, nurturing and, most of all, God’s unconditional love. And so on the third Sunday of Advent we lit the candle of LOVE in anticipation of the love that will be born TO us, and IN us at Christmas. And anyone who has loved, or been loved knows this: Love brings us our greatest joy.
Which brings us to the candle we light on this fourth Sunday of Advent; the candle of JOY. And what an irony it seems to be to light the candle of JOY on this final Sunday of worship in this beautiful and historic building, a building which has housed the congregations of St. George’s for more than 150 years. Then, again, the people of St. James have been homeless for some time. So, I don’t even think God would be too hard on us for not feeling overly joyful in this moment. And yet we light the candle of JOY today to anticipate the joy of God’s coming to us in the vulnerable body of an infant boy; our God who will not only NOT be born in a home, he will not have a place to lay his head, a place to go home to, throughout his entire ministry on this earth. And it seems to me there is a message for the church in Jesus’ homeless ministry. And we already know what that message is, and we also know how difficult it is to accept.
We know that God does not dwell in the buildings we build. God dwells in us, and God is everywhere out there in our world. This is why, at the end of every Eucharist, we are sent out of this place of worship, into the world to love and serve the Lord. Because God is in the world, and God is in us. We also know that church buildings are not everlasting. Bricks and mortar are vulnerable to the forces of nature; walls crumble and fall away, fires burn them to the ground, storms and volcanoes rip them apart. But congregations who see themselves as the body of Christ in this world continue to live on, and they move on to the new place God is calling them to. We know all too well that church buildings are also vulnerable to social and economic forces which bring them to close their doors. Congregations dwindle, financial support falls away, buildings become too costly to maintain. And so, buildings come to an end. But churches can never come to an end, as long as faithful people continue to gather in the name of Christ in homes, in parks, on street corners, in restaurants and coffee shops, and yes, even in pubs. We know in our hearts that God does not depend on dwelling places to live in. God doesn’t depend on parish churches and cathedrals to do the work of his church. God depends on us to be the church. God depends on us to represent him to the world wherever we are and wherever we gather in his name.
In today’s epistle lesson Paul tells that people of God become a community of faith and a force for God’s good in our world by God’s “grace and apostleship.” We find our greatest joy by the ways we grow in God’s grace; we find our greatest joy in doing the work he gives us to do by our apostolic inheritance. And our greatest joy will come to us once again, this year, on the day we celebrate his incarnation. God with us.
I believe our journey through Advent has been particularly helpful this year. It has provided us with a pathway and a compass for moving through this period grief for buildings we no longer inhabit, for the vulnerability we experience at being, in a sense, homeless, and for the uncertainty we feel about our future. God has already brought our houses of worship to their end time. The back wall of St. James Church has fallen away making the building inhabitable, and today we will close the doors of St. George’s Church building for the last time. And now we find ourselves in a time of Advent. Waiting, watching. And doing something very important for the life of our congregations; coming together for common worship.
This Advent both congregations of St. George and St. James are waiting in hope, anticipating once again the peace, and love and joy which God promises to us by his incarnation. We wait in hope for God’s revelation of his preferred future for us, we wait in the peace which passes our understanding of what that future might be, we wait in that love which will take away our fear of risking a new vision for our churches, and we dwell in the joy of becoming the church God is calling us to be, a strong church and a vital presence for God in our Southern Berkshires, and in the ways we are called to mission and ministry throughout our world.
Yes, what an Advent journey our churches have been on over these past few years. And it is not over yet. In fact, we are likely to experience our Advent for some time to come. Until that day when the new thing God is doing in us becomes born in us, and borne into our world. In the meantime we wait and watch, and continue to be the people of God’s church in common worship, and in mission and ministry to our word. We wait with patience for the new church which will emerge from the church buildings we leave behind. We watch with eyes that envision God’s preferred future for us. We listen with hears to hear what God is saying to us each step along the journey. We speak careful and caring words to people in whatever place of mind, or body, or spirit they are in. We touch each other with hearts that do not fear the demanding promises of love. We grow in relationship with God and with each other in common worship. We garner the strength and courage to do the work God gives us to do. And we continue to take great joy in doing it.
Like Mary, we bear the new thing God is doing for us in the womb of our hearts and minds until it comes time to be born. And until a child is born we cannot know what he or she will look like; likewise, we cannot know right now what this new church will look like, we cannot know what this community of faith will grow up to be, but like Joseph, we will name it, and by naming it claim it as our own. And we will take great joy and delight in seeing her mature in wisdom and grow strong in the faith of our ancestors, those people throughout our history who took their own risks to build a community of faith in Lee and Great Barrington—and buildings to house them in.
My hope for the congregations of St. George and St. James is that as you suffer the pains and joys of new birth is that you will follow that star which will lead you to that place you have never been. That you will take the risk of journeying together to the place where God is calling you. That you will bring your gifts and offer them to that vision. And even though I will not be with you on this journey, I share that vision with you. Meanwhile, I must move on, as you will move on. But know that where I go, you will be also. After all, you made a home for me here. And I made a home for you in my heart. Know that I carry you my heart. Know that I hold you in my prayers. And know that God is with us.
Scriptural themes around God’s end time on those last Sundays in Pentecost spilled over into our first Sunday of Advent. We heard more warnings about how God would bring to an end to life as we know it in this world. Chaos would rule our ordered world, and our ordered lives. Our hearts would be filled with despair and fear for our future for the coming of our end. Nevertheless, on that first Sunday of Advent, we lit the candle of HOPE. Because scriptures also assured us that God’s end time would mark the beginning of something new. Our scripture lessons invited us to believe that everything could be redeemed. They brought us to hope that the endings we experience in our own life might also be places where God is redeeming us; places where God is making all things new.
I believe our scriptures for Advent 1 were teaching our congregations of St. George and St. James how to live in hope in the experiences of our own end times. But they do not promise that it will be easy. Because while God gives us hope, God also gives us hearts to feel our loss for things that come to an end, he gives us tears that express our pain, and he gives us words to speak our thoughts and feelings about the life we leave behind. We grieve those things that will no longer give us meaning and purpose, comfort and joy. And we fear an uncertain future. But all our scriptures in Advent remind us that God would not have us dwell in our grief and loss. God has given us the gift of hope. And it is our hope, our patient hope in God’s promise that God is doing something new IN us, and WITH us, and THROUGH us—hope that brings new meaning, new purpose and new direction for our future.
So, even with the warnings of end time we heard on Advent 1, we lit the candle of HOPE. Because hope is the antidote for our grief. It is hope that can move us through our sadness and despair. It is hope which enables us to anticipate the new life that awaits us in the new life we receive at the manger. For both our congregations this new life is bound to take us on new roads as we journey toward God’s preferred future. And it will not be helpful to yearn for roads which take us back to the places we once lived and the life we once knew. The road we travel with God will not take us there. Because once we leave behind the houses we inhabit, “you can’t go home again.” Now, if that phrase sounds familiar, perhaps you are remembering a novel, by the same name, written by American author Thomas Wolfe. You can’t go home again, even if you try. Because things change, and things come to an end. Life goes on. And God’s future awaits those who dwell in HOPE.
But don’t be deceived; hope is not a passive experience. As we await the future God has in mind for us, we also begin to live in hope and act on hope. Our focus turns to discerning God’s plan and purpose for us. We begin exploring the ways we might move forward, even as we look back in sorrow and regret. At the same time it often feels as if we are standing still. Not doing anything, really. Perhaps even shuffling our feet for a time. That’s because we are in our own time of Advent, waiting and watching for that new thing to happen. Preparing a space for God to enter into the chaos of the moment, if only just to be present with us in it. That’s when hope begins to creep into our feelings of sadness and uncertainty, and we begin to experience the gift God gives us on the second Sunday of Advent—the gift of PEACE.
Now, my experience of this peace we hear about on the Sunday of Advent 2 feels a lot like the peace Paul speaks of, I think—a “peace which passes all understanding.” It’s the kind of peace which comes to us even as we are living in the midst of sadness and uncertainty; even as we suffer the anger and tears of disillusionment and despair; even as we are subjected to the desire of those to manipulate, or manage, and control our future—we can find our peace. Because our scriptures assure us that God is with us; he will not abandon us. And knowing that God is present with us helps us find the peace we need; the peace of Advent 2 as we dwell in the hope of Advent 1.
So, on the second Sunday of Advent we lit the candle of PEACE. The kind of peace which comes from accepting that we cannot know what God knows, and we cannot know how God will do his work in us, and with us, and through us. The peace which comes from letting go of our own plans and schemes and agendas for engineering our future, so that we might discern God’s preferred future for us. It’s the peace which comes from surrendering our limited wisdom and vision for our future to Gods greater wisdom and vision for that future. It’s that peace that awaits us at the manger, whenever we are ready to surrender the chaos of our life to God. Yes, God loves us that much. God will take our fear and anxiety from us and carry us through the chaos of our moments. God loves us that much.
So we are not surprised that on the Sunday of Advent 3 we light the candle of LOVE. And love is so necessary for our journey into God’s preferred future for us. Because only God’s love for us can remove the fear which keeps us from living into the fullness of our life. Only God’s love can relieve us of fears which keep us bound to our past, or imprisoned in the dead and dying places of our life. Only God’s love can enable us to surrender our fear of letting go and trusting God to be in charge of our personal life, and the communal life of our church.
Our scriptures for Advent 3 provide a road map for our journey out of fear—into love. As John the Baptizer sits in a jail cell fearing that his prophetic role has come to naught, Jesus assures John that he IS the One God sent to redeem the world. Isaiah shows us that nothing can be born in us when we fear. In fact, our life shrinks by fear. It becomes a desert that will not blossom. On the other hand, everything is born in love. We grow by love. God’s Spirit nurtures us in love. Love keeps us open and receptive to God’s possibilities for us in creation. It is only by knowing and living in God’s love that we are able to take the risk becoming the persons God created us to be, and the church God yearns for us to be.
I especially love Isaiah’s image of the highway which can take us to our God. He makes it clear that the rough and narrow and crooked roads we lay down for ourselves as we journey through this world will not lead us to God’s plan and purpose for our life. The maps we make for our own journey through this world will not get us where God wants us to go. Only love will take us where God will lead. God’s risky, demanding, forgiving, inclusive, nurturing and, most of all, God’s unconditional love. And so on the third Sunday of Advent we lit the candle of LOVE in anticipation of the love that will be born TO us, and IN us at Christmas. And anyone who has loved, or been loved knows this: Love brings us our greatest joy.
Which brings us to the candle we light on this fourth Sunday of Advent; the candle of JOY. And what an irony it seems to be to light the candle of JOY on this final Sunday of worship in this beautiful and historic building, a building which has housed the congregations of St. George’s for more than 150 years. Then, again, the people of St. James have been homeless for some time. So, I don’t even think God would be too hard on us for not feeling overly joyful in this moment. And yet we light the candle of JOY today to anticipate the joy of God’s coming to us in the vulnerable body of an infant boy; our God who will not only NOT be born in a home, he will not have a place to lay his head, a place to go home to, throughout his entire ministry on this earth. And it seems to me there is a message for the church in Jesus’ homeless ministry. And we already know what that message is, and we also know how difficult it is to accept.
We know that God does not dwell in the buildings we build. God dwells in us, and God is everywhere out there in our world. This is why, at the end of every Eucharist, we are sent out of this place of worship, into the world to love and serve the Lord. Because God is in the world, and God is in us. We also know that church buildings are not everlasting. Bricks and mortar are vulnerable to the forces of nature; walls crumble and fall away, fires burn them to the ground, storms and volcanoes rip them apart. But congregations who see themselves as the body of Christ in this world continue to live on, and they move on to the new place God is calling them to. We know all too well that church buildings are also vulnerable to social and economic forces which bring them to close their doors. Congregations dwindle, financial support falls away, buildings become too costly to maintain. And so, buildings come to an end. But churches can never come to an end, as long as faithful people continue to gather in the name of Christ in homes, in parks, on street corners, in restaurants and coffee shops, and yes, even in pubs. We know in our hearts that God does not depend on dwelling places to live in. God doesn’t depend on parish churches and cathedrals to do the work of his church. God depends on us to be the church. God depends on us to represent him to the world wherever we are and wherever we gather in his name.
In today’s epistle lesson Paul tells that people of God become a community of faith and a force for God’s good in our world by God’s “grace and apostleship.” We find our greatest joy by the ways we grow in God’s grace; we find our greatest joy in doing the work he gives us to do by our apostolic inheritance. And our greatest joy will come to us once again, this year, on the day we celebrate his incarnation. God with us.
I believe our journey through Advent has been particularly helpful this year. It has provided us with a pathway and a compass for moving through this period grief for buildings we no longer inhabit, for the vulnerability we experience at being, in a sense, homeless, and for the uncertainty we feel about our future. God has already brought our houses of worship to their end time. The back wall of St. James Church has fallen away making the building inhabitable, and today we will close the doors of St. George’s Church building for the last time. And now we find ourselves in a time of Advent. Waiting, watching. And doing something very important for the life of our congregations; coming together for common worship.
This Advent both congregations of St. George and St. James are waiting in hope, anticipating once again the peace, and love and joy which God promises to us by his incarnation. We wait in hope for God’s revelation of his preferred future for us, we wait in the peace which passes our understanding of what that future might be, we wait in that love which will take away our fear of risking a new vision for our churches, and we dwell in the joy of becoming the church God is calling us to be, a strong church and a vital presence for God in our Southern Berkshires, and in the ways we are called to mission and ministry throughout our world.
Yes, what an Advent journey our churches have been on over these past few years. And it is not over yet. In fact, we are likely to experience our Advent for some time to come. Until that day when the new thing God is doing in us becomes born in us, and borne into our world. In the meantime we wait and watch, and continue to be the people of God’s church in common worship, and in mission and ministry to our word. We wait with patience for the new church which will emerge from the church buildings we leave behind. We watch with eyes that envision God’s preferred future for us. We listen with hears to hear what God is saying to us each step along the journey. We speak careful and caring words to people in whatever place of mind, or body, or spirit they are in. We touch each other with hearts that do not fear the demanding promises of love. We grow in relationship with God and with each other in common worship. We garner the strength and courage to do the work God gives us to do. And we continue to take great joy in doing it.
Like Mary, we bear the new thing God is doing for us in the womb of our hearts and minds until it comes time to be born. And until a child is born we cannot know what he or she will look like; likewise, we cannot know right now what this new church will look like, we cannot know what this community of faith will grow up to be, but like Joseph, we will name it, and by naming it claim it as our own. And we will take great joy and delight in seeing her mature in wisdom and grow strong in the faith of our ancestors, those people throughout our history who took their own risks to build a community of faith in Lee and Great Barrington—and buildings to house them in.
My hope for the congregations of St. George and St. James is that as you suffer the pains and joys of new birth is that you will follow that star which will lead you to that place you have never been. That you will take the risk of journeying together to the place where God is calling you. That you will bring your gifts and offer them to that vision. And even though I will not be with you on this journey, I share that vision with you. Meanwhile, I must move on, as you will move on. But know that where I go, you will be also. After all, you made a home for me here. And I made a home for you in my heart. Know that I carry you my heart. Know that I hold you in my prayers. And know that God is with us.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
Sermon by The Rev. Annie Ryder Sunday, December 12, 2010
“Stir up your power, O Lord…” Dear friends always referred to 3rd Advent as “stirrup” Sunday, harkening back to their Texas cowboy roots. Others prefer the baking metaphor, so prominent in these late Advent days, as the flour is flying, butter is melting and sugarplums dance in our heads. But a metaphor is, after all, something that points us toward a larger truth. Today for this family gathered together, that truth is that God is always at work in us, hoisting us back in the saddle, creating a new recipe of life, forgiveness, service, faith and love. Will we participate?
This is the Sunday when we light the pink Advent candle and sing the Mary’s song. The lighter shade of the pink candle was meant to both honor Mother Mary and also to give us a little breather in the darkness that surrounds us. Christ’s coming is not very far away; we haven’t much longer to wait. Are we ready? Are we allowing God to use us to help lighten the burdens of others, to spread some hope where there is despair, to fill the hungry with good things?
The bookends of our readings today present two vastly different perspectives. Isaiah’s words are words of hope and transformation, of dreams coming true, of a future in God. There is no danger here, no one limps or aches; there are no predators. It is spring for Isaiah and God’s people are walking in harmony together along the Holy Way.
Matthew, however offers a bleaker perspective through Jesus’ words to and about John the Baptizer. Jesus cautions those who are expecting to wear the purple clothing of royal luxury without first enduring and learning from the trials and tests of faith. John has been imprisoned by Herod and his voice has been silenced in the wilderness but Jesus still recognizes and acknowledges him as a great prophet who is pointing the way for others.
The pairing of these two very different messages creates a tension within us that is quite familiar. We are waiting for the arrival of the Christ child, the return of our Lord Jesus Christ in glory and for the coming of the Kingdom of God that, at times, feel so near. We are children of the Light. We have died with Christ. We see God’s hand at work in the world around us. Yet, simultaneously we see and feel our own hurts and incompleteness, we feel powerless over the sophisticated troubles of our world, and we struggle to see and feel the hope we have been promised.
Good old Advent brings this paradox right home to us every year and each year we must discover new ways to be in this world but not of this world. Perhaps it is James who gives us the most practical advice on this subject.
Across the state of Vermont, from Quebec to Massachusetts, lies a hiking path called The Long Trail. Heading north from just east of Williamstown, The Long Trail and the Appalachian Trail converge. Somewhere just east of Rutland, the AT heads toward New Hampshire and The Long Trail winds its way through the Green Mountain National Forest, past ski resorts with names like Sugarbush and Mad River. It misses the home of Ben and Jerry’s by about five miles and heads relentlessly north, scaling Mt. Mansfield. It rarely goes directly through a town. In Vermont, we have the Long Trail and in Christianity we have the Long View.
Our brother James calls this patient endurance. Is it a virtue? A survival tactic? A cop out? It can be. For us, it is the spiritual fortitude, the muscles of faith that show us how to live in the hope that is God’s promise. We are to tame our hunger and thirst for immediate gratification.
And finding ourselves, as we do, living and worshiping in Christian communities, our patience gets put to work among one another. We are a living laboratory right here in beautiful Berkshire County! How we live together reflects Christ to all those around us. James tells us straightforwardly what to do: “strengthen our hearts.”
As we gather this morning we represent the Body of Christ in three states and at least ten different towns and villages and in at least two denominations. The reason for our gathering is to strengthen our bonds as brothers and sisters in Christ, to rejoice together in the light of 3rd Advent, to raise our communal voices in proclaiming the greatness of the Lord and to get to know one another a little better: to remember a name, to greet a child, to inquire about a friend, to pray, confess, and receive the bread of life together.
When I arrived in Sheffield almost seven years ago, this gathering would not have occurred to our lay or clergy leadership. Our coming together today is also the result of regional and national trends in our churches that include fewer members and increased costs of maintaining our buildings. Loren Meade, noted Episcopal author and priest, explains all this in detail in an article called Ministering in an Out-Going Tide. I think some of his points will prove helpful to all of us.
He writes, “It’s not our fault. Something big is going on. Work on your own faith (James would agree!) Find the things that feed your spirit---what are they? Whatever it is, be sure to make time for it, and do it. Don’t let anything get in the way of it. Get busy with some stuff you can do. Stand steady, no matter what happens. Remember our story. It’s not your denomination or your congregation. It’s a story that begins with Abraham, called out of Ur. It’s a story of a God who promises and keeps his promises. Live that story. You are not alone. You may not win out. Prepare for the long run. We’ve been called into a marathon, not a sprint. Don’t expect anything to be quick or easy. It doesn’t work that way.” [1]
Lest we despair, take heart. In our own Berkshires miracles are happening. Witness the one this month in Adams and North Adams, where two churches, St. Mark’s and St. John’s have voted to combine their churches into All Saints Episcopal Church. Ellen White, the former priest-in-charge at St. Mark’s wrote this on her Facebook page: “When I left St. Mark’s this was just a “twinkle in God’s eye” of a possibility. I know how much of a miracle this is: truly a work of the Spirit being manifested.!”
Not that their work is now finished. In many ways it is just beginning. That’s how God works. We never arrive, at least not for long, before we are pushed out in a new direction for the glory of God. The funny thing is that we never know where God is going to pop out at us and it probably won’t be where we are looking. “If you want to hear God laugh”, goes the old joke, “tell him your plans!”
We are gathered here together today to encourage one another, to worship together, to huddle in the winter darkness for the warmth and hope we know in Jesus Christ and in our imperfect communities of faith. Take heart!
There was a woman who had, in spite of a hard life and virtually no resources except her stamina and the strength of her faith, raised six fine children and sent them all to college. Asked how she did it, she replied, “I saw a new world coming.” Do you see it too?
This is the Sunday when we light the pink Advent candle and sing the Mary’s song. The lighter shade of the pink candle was meant to both honor Mother Mary and also to give us a little breather in the darkness that surrounds us. Christ’s coming is not very far away; we haven’t much longer to wait. Are we ready? Are we allowing God to use us to help lighten the burdens of others, to spread some hope where there is despair, to fill the hungry with good things?
The bookends of our readings today present two vastly different perspectives. Isaiah’s words are words of hope and transformation, of dreams coming true, of a future in God. There is no danger here, no one limps or aches; there are no predators. It is spring for Isaiah and God’s people are walking in harmony together along the Holy Way.
Matthew, however offers a bleaker perspective through Jesus’ words to and about John the Baptizer. Jesus cautions those who are expecting to wear the purple clothing of royal luxury without first enduring and learning from the trials and tests of faith. John has been imprisoned by Herod and his voice has been silenced in the wilderness but Jesus still recognizes and acknowledges him as a great prophet who is pointing the way for others.
The pairing of these two very different messages creates a tension within us that is quite familiar. We are waiting for the arrival of the Christ child, the return of our Lord Jesus Christ in glory and for the coming of the Kingdom of God that, at times, feel so near. We are children of the Light. We have died with Christ. We see God’s hand at work in the world around us. Yet, simultaneously we see and feel our own hurts and incompleteness, we feel powerless over the sophisticated troubles of our world, and we struggle to see and feel the hope we have been promised.
Good old Advent brings this paradox right home to us every year and each year we must discover new ways to be in this world but not of this world. Perhaps it is James who gives us the most practical advice on this subject.
Across the state of Vermont, from Quebec to Massachusetts, lies a hiking path called The Long Trail. Heading north from just east of Williamstown, The Long Trail and the Appalachian Trail converge. Somewhere just east of Rutland, the AT heads toward New Hampshire and The Long Trail winds its way through the Green Mountain National Forest, past ski resorts with names like Sugarbush and Mad River. It misses the home of Ben and Jerry’s by about five miles and heads relentlessly north, scaling Mt. Mansfield. It rarely goes directly through a town. In Vermont, we have the Long Trail and in Christianity we have the Long View.
Our brother James calls this patient endurance. Is it a virtue? A survival tactic? A cop out? It can be. For us, it is the spiritual fortitude, the muscles of faith that show us how to live in the hope that is God’s promise. We are to tame our hunger and thirst for immediate gratification.
And finding ourselves, as we do, living and worshiping in Christian communities, our patience gets put to work among one another. We are a living laboratory right here in beautiful Berkshire County! How we live together reflects Christ to all those around us. James tells us straightforwardly what to do: “strengthen our hearts.”
As we gather this morning we represent the Body of Christ in three states and at least ten different towns and villages and in at least two denominations. The reason for our gathering is to strengthen our bonds as brothers and sisters in Christ, to rejoice together in the light of 3rd Advent, to raise our communal voices in proclaiming the greatness of the Lord and to get to know one another a little better: to remember a name, to greet a child, to inquire about a friend, to pray, confess, and receive the bread of life together.
When I arrived in Sheffield almost seven years ago, this gathering would not have occurred to our lay or clergy leadership. Our coming together today is also the result of regional and national trends in our churches that include fewer members and increased costs of maintaining our buildings. Loren Meade, noted Episcopal author and priest, explains all this in detail in an article called Ministering in an Out-Going Tide. I think some of his points will prove helpful to all of us.
He writes, “It’s not our fault. Something big is going on. Work on your own faith (James would agree!) Find the things that feed your spirit---what are they? Whatever it is, be sure to make time for it, and do it. Don’t let anything get in the way of it. Get busy with some stuff you can do. Stand steady, no matter what happens. Remember our story. It’s not your denomination or your congregation. It’s a story that begins with Abraham, called out of Ur. It’s a story of a God who promises and keeps his promises. Live that story. You are not alone. You may not win out. Prepare for the long run. We’ve been called into a marathon, not a sprint. Don’t expect anything to be quick or easy. It doesn’t work that way.” [1]
Lest we despair, take heart. In our own Berkshires miracles are happening. Witness the one this month in Adams and North Adams, where two churches, St. Mark’s and St. John’s have voted to combine their churches into All Saints Episcopal Church. Ellen White, the former priest-in-charge at St. Mark’s wrote this on her Facebook page: “When I left St. Mark’s this was just a “twinkle in God’s eye” of a possibility. I know how much of a miracle this is: truly a work of the Spirit being manifested.!”
Not that their work is now finished. In many ways it is just beginning. That’s how God works. We never arrive, at least not for long, before we are pushed out in a new direction for the glory of God. The funny thing is that we never know where God is going to pop out at us and it probably won’t be where we are looking. “If you want to hear God laugh”, goes the old joke, “tell him your plans!”
We are gathered here together today to encourage one another, to worship together, to huddle in the winter darkness for the warmth and hope we know in Jesus Christ and in our imperfect communities of faith. Take heart!
There was a woman who had, in spite of a hard life and virtually no resources except her stamina and the strength of her faith, raised six fine children and sent them all to college. Asked how she did it, she replied, “I saw a new world coming.” Do you see it too?
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Sermon by The Rev. Howard Seip, Sunday November 14, 2010
Well, here I am, giving my first sermon at St. James. Francie asked me if I would be interested some time ago, and I have been waiting for my opportunity with excitement. And this is the Sunday that I got. If you ask what I mean by that, I’ll ask you one question. Did you really listen to those Bible passages from the lectionary this morning? I ask this in all seriousness, for I need your help in coming up with a topic.
First there was the New Testament epistle lesson. As a dramatically underemployed person, I listened intently to the Pauline attack upon the lazy, shiftless people without jobs in the Thessalonian community, busybodies who were living in idleness. Well, that didn’t strike me so good, so it’s out as a sermon topic.
Then there was the gospel lesson from Luke. And I’m sorry to say that things didn’t take a better turn there. For the days will come when you will see this temple, this place reserved for the sincere worship of the one true God, and it will be destroyed. Not one single stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down. Clearly that’s not a sermon text for this congregation. We’ve heard much too much about things like that in recent times. Besides, this time it could be Crissey Farms, God forbid.
But as if that wasn’t enough, things in Luke really begin to go down hill after that. You will hear about wars and insurrections, but don’t let that bother you. Nation will rise against nation, there will be earthquakes, famines and plagues, but don’t worry, that’s ok. And then, it appears that the powers that be will blame you for all of this, because you will get arrested, dragged into court, put in prison, and perhaps executed. This is the good news. Thanks be to God. I don’t think that I’m going in that direction either. So I still need your good thoughts and ideas.
Well, thanks be to God indeed because we also heard from the book of the prophet Isaiah this morning too. And here things begin to take a better turn. For out of a time of exile and captivity, Isaiah speaks of dramatically better days to come for God’s people. For God is at work in their midst creating a new heavens and a new earth that will usher in a new time of great prosperity and joy for the people. And he goes on to give images and symbols of the kind of life that that will bring. People will live long, good lives. They will have good homes and fruitful crops. They will have wonderful families and healthy children. But perhaps best of all, they will be blessed with a time of nonviolence and true peace.
Now that’s more like it. A Bible passage with a positive, upbeat message that you can really sink your teeth into if you’re trying to write a sermon to inspire people. And in truth, although it is harder to find, our reading from Luke is in fact also more positive than it seems. It has its tragedy and doom and gloom as we have seen. But its focus is elsewhere. For, what is “the time” that is coming near? And what is “the end” that is expected? It is not disaster, but the return of Christ and the coming of salvation, and the dawn of the kingdom of God.
Isaiah’s is in fact a grand and glorious vision, with a vast and indeed cosmic scope. Behold, I am creating a new heavens and a new earth after all. But there’s part of the problem. It’s a wonderful vision of health, prosperity and goodness, but in the world and life we live in, I think that it is somewhat hard to relate to in some ways. Because to say the least, in the economic and international situation that we are in right now, that vision has hardly come true in its fullness as yet at this point in human history. So we may still be looking for the heart of meaning that today’s scripture reading has for our lives.
Well, looking around and not seeing anyone, even the esteemed John Cheek, leaping up to save me and share their wisdom, I look elsewhere to find my clue and inspiration. And luckily for me, I found at least one little hint in another sermon of all places. Lately I’ve been reading a little bit of the famous theologian Paul Tillich for a comparative study I’m doing with the Hindu faith. He was for sure one of the very most important Christian thinkers of the 20th century. His first collection of sermons from the 1940s was called The Shaking of the Foundations, and in it there is a sermon called “Behold, I Am Doing A New Thing”. And although it is not a sermon on our text from Isaiah, it certainly could be. In it he remarks that the God of the Bible is first and foremost a God who does new things, who creates the new. And imaging the destructive aspects of our reading from Luke’s gospel, he says that the old has to die and disappear and pass away before the new that God is creating can come.
And that is exactly what we see in our Bible passages for today. In Isaiah the former things shall not be remembered or come to mind. In Luke’s vision the end of all things comes through cataclysmic disasters. Both show the passing and death of the old in order that the new life and world that God is creating can come to be just like Tillich said. And I think that it is in this passage from the old to the new seen as the movement from a past that is dying away and disappearing to a future that is a new creation that is new life, is exactly the image that we need in order to see the personal meaning that there is in these passages for us in our lives.
For the stories we have been wondering about this morning I think are symbols that touch and tap into the very deepest and fundamental truths about faith, and the spiritual life, and God. For they tap into the pattern of true religious faith and spiritual life, namely the themes of death and resurrection. For that is the movement and meaning of Christ’s life as savior. But as Christian people that is intended to be the rhythm and nature of our lives of faith as well. For we are to participate in the very life of Christ.
There is an old prayer that shows this movement from Christ’s life to ours that you might know. It goes like this. “Pour your grace into our hearts O Lord that we who have known the incarnation of your Son Jesus Christ the announced by an angel to the Virgin Mary, may by his cross and passion be brought to the glory of his resurrection.” By his cross and passion may we be brought to the glory of his resurrection. By participating in the pattern of Christ’s life, we find new life ourselves. Our fundamental problem as human beings from the very beginning of creation in Genesis down to our own day has been our turning away from God’s life giving presence and focusing our lives just on ourselves in hurtful and destructive ways. Faith calls on us to die to that old self-centered person that is passing away, and turn in our hearts and lives to center them anew in a loving and saving God who is bringing new life.
The central symbols of our faith even proclaim this dynamic and movement from passion to resurrection, and from death to new life. Take the sacrament of baptism for example. My wife Nancy, who some of you know is an art teacher and painter, is also an accomplished potter and made this bowl that is our symbol of baptism. And what is it that happens when we are baptized? The Bible and our service says that in it, we what? We die and are raised with Christ. That in baptism we die to our old lives and rise again in new life participating in Christ’s resurrected life. And that then becomes the beginning and pattern of our faith that we are living out and witnessing to this very morning. It sounds familiar, doesn’t it?
And then there is the central Christian symbol, the cross. Nancy is coming out the hero this morning, because she made this beautiful cross too for me for my ordination several decades ago now. And I don’t really have to tell you in detail how the symbol of the cross proclaims the message we are talking about today, because you know it. But let’s just say that obviously, just like baptism, it has its reality in the life of Christ and the outside world of history. But it also has this personal meaning for our lives that our faith intends for us to get and live out. For it is the same one as baptism really. That we are called to participate in Christ’s cross and passion so that we can share in his new life of resurrection. Again, by turning from ourselves and life just focused on us, crucifying it if you will, and finding new life and love and salvation in God.
Finally, we come back around to our worship this morning and our very purpose in being here today. And we see that our communion (our communion with Christ) and our eucharist, our great thanksgiving, is itself a symbol of this great spiritual truth and pattern that is our theme for the day. For in our coming to worship, in our confession, we acknowledge our need of new life. In it we turn from life lived away from this place and from God, focused just on ourselves, and we die to that and come here to seek new life and healing and restoration through the presence and communion and nourishment we receive from the saving presence of Christ’s life that we find in this bread and in this wine.
So what we celebrate today is the new life that God gives us, the new creation that is made, when we turn our lives around and receive that into our hearts. You know, returning to the framework of today’s Bible lessons, I don’t know about our nation’s future in this post-election time. Which way will it go? Also in its conflict and troubles and violence, I have little clue as to where history is going on the international scene. And for sure, the destiny of the earth and our cosmos is not something I’ve been given any insight about. But I do know that in our lives and in our church, if we turn each and every day away from our solitary self absorption and let that die and pass away, and turn to God in prayer and thanksgiving and wonder, living out the love that God is creating, it will be possible for us to sing a new song of a new life and a new creation that comes to us from our savior.
Then we too will be able to sing with Isaiah
Surely it is God who saves me; I will trust and not be afraid.
For the Lord is my stronghold and my sure defense,
and will be my Savior.
Therefore you shall draw water with rejoicing,
from the springs of salvation.
And on that day you shall say,
Give thanks to the Lord and call upon God’s name.
Make God’s deeds known among the peoples,
see that they remember that the Lord’s name is exhaled.
Sing the praises of the Lord, for God have done great things,
and this is known in all the world.
Cry aloud inhabitants of Zion, ring out your joy,
for the great one in the midst of you is the Holy One of Israel.
Amen.
First there was the New Testament epistle lesson. As a dramatically underemployed person, I listened intently to the Pauline attack upon the lazy, shiftless people without jobs in the Thessalonian community, busybodies who were living in idleness. Well, that didn’t strike me so good, so it’s out as a sermon topic.
Then there was the gospel lesson from Luke. And I’m sorry to say that things didn’t take a better turn there. For the days will come when you will see this temple, this place reserved for the sincere worship of the one true God, and it will be destroyed. Not one single stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down. Clearly that’s not a sermon text for this congregation. We’ve heard much too much about things like that in recent times. Besides, this time it could be Crissey Farms, God forbid.
But as if that wasn’t enough, things in Luke really begin to go down hill after that. You will hear about wars and insurrections, but don’t let that bother you. Nation will rise against nation, there will be earthquakes, famines and plagues, but don’t worry, that’s ok. And then, it appears that the powers that be will blame you for all of this, because you will get arrested, dragged into court, put in prison, and perhaps executed. This is the good news. Thanks be to God. I don’t think that I’m going in that direction either. So I still need your good thoughts and ideas.
Well, thanks be to God indeed because we also heard from the book of the prophet Isaiah this morning too. And here things begin to take a better turn. For out of a time of exile and captivity, Isaiah speaks of dramatically better days to come for God’s people. For God is at work in their midst creating a new heavens and a new earth that will usher in a new time of great prosperity and joy for the people. And he goes on to give images and symbols of the kind of life that that will bring. People will live long, good lives. They will have good homes and fruitful crops. They will have wonderful families and healthy children. But perhaps best of all, they will be blessed with a time of nonviolence and true peace.
Now that’s more like it. A Bible passage with a positive, upbeat message that you can really sink your teeth into if you’re trying to write a sermon to inspire people. And in truth, although it is harder to find, our reading from Luke is in fact also more positive than it seems. It has its tragedy and doom and gloom as we have seen. But its focus is elsewhere. For, what is “the time” that is coming near? And what is “the end” that is expected? It is not disaster, but the return of Christ and the coming of salvation, and the dawn of the kingdom of God.
Isaiah’s is in fact a grand and glorious vision, with a vast and indeed cosmic scope. Behold, I am creating a new heavens and a new earth after all. But there’s part of the problem. It’s a wonderful vision of health, prosperity and goodness, but in the world and life we live in, I think that it is somewhat hard to relate to in some ways. Because to say the least, in the economic and international situation that we are in right now, that vision has hardly come true in its fullness as yet at this point in human history. So we may still be looking for the heart of meaning that today’s scripture reading has for our lives.
Well, looking around and not seeing anyone, even the esteemed John Cheek, leaping up to save me and share their wisdom, I look elsewhere to find my clue and inspiration. And luckily for me, I found at least one little hint in another sermon of all places. Lately I’ve been reading a little bit of the famous theologian Paul Tillich for a comparative study I’m doing with the Hindu faith. He was for sure one of the very most important Christian thinkers of the 20th century. His first collection of sermons from the 1940s was called The Shaking of the Foundations, and in it there is a sermon called “Behold, I Am Doing A New Thing”. And although it is not a sermon on our text from Isaiah, it certainly could be. In it he remarks that the God of the Bible is first and foremost a God who does new things, who creates the new. And imaging the destructive aspects of our reading from Luke’s gospel, he says that the old has to die and disappear and pass away before the new that God is creating can come.
And that is exactly what we see in our Bible passages for today. In Isaiah the former things shall not be remembered or come to mind. In Luke’s vision the end of all things comes through cataclysmic disasters. Both show the passing and death of the old in order that the new life and world that God is creating can come to be just like Tillich said. And I think that it is in this passage from the old to the new seen as the movement from a past that is dying away and disappearing to a future that is a new creation that is new life, is exactly the image that we need in order to see the personal meaning that there is in these passages for us in our lives.
For the stories we have been wondering about this morning I think are symbols that touch and tap into the very deepest and fundamental truths about faith, and the spiritual life, and God. For they tap into the pattern of true religious faith and spiritual life, namely the themes of death and resurrection. For that is the movement and meaning of Christ’s life as savior. But as Christian people that is intended to be the rhythm and nature of our lives of faith as well. For we are to participate in the very life of Christ.
There is an old prayer that shows this movement from Christ’s life to ours that you might know. It goes like this. “Pour your grace into our hearts O Lord that we who have known the incarnation of your Son Jesus Christ the announced by an angel to the Virgin Mary, may by his cross and passion be brought to the glory of his resurrection.” By his cross and passion may we be brought to the glory of his resurrection. By participating in the pattern of Christ’s life, we find new life ourselves. Our fundamental problem as human beings from the very beginning of creation in Genesis down to our own day has been our turning away from God’s life giving presence and focusing our lives just on ourselves in hurtful and destructive ways. Faith calls on us to die to that old self-centered person that is passing away, and turn in our hearts and lives to center them anew in a loving and saving God who is bringing new life.
The central symbols of our faith even proclaim this dynamic and movement from passion to resurrection, and from death to new life. Take the sacrament of baptism for example. My wife Nancy, who some of you know is an art teacher and painter, is also an accomplished potter and made this bowl that is our symbol of baptism. And what is it that happens when we are baptized? The Bible and our service says that in it, we what? We die and are raised with Christ. That in baptism we die to our old lives and rise again in new life participating in Christ’s resurrected life. And that then becomes the beginning and pattern of our faith that we are living out and witnessing to this very morning. It sounds familiar, doesn’t it?
And then there is the central Christian symbol, the cross. Nancy is coming out the hero this morning, because she made this beautiful cross too for me for my ordination several decades ago now. And I don’t really have to tell you in detail how the symbol of the cross proclaims the message we are talking about today, because you know it. But let’s just say that obviously, just like baptism, it has its reality in the life of Christ and the outside world of history. But it also has this personal meaning for our lives that our faith intends for us to get and live out. For it is the same one as baptism really. That we are called to participate in Christ’s cross and passion so that we can share in his new life of resurrection. Again, by turning from ourselves and life just focused on us, crucifying it if you will, and finding new life and love and salvation in God.
Finally, we come back around to our worship this morning and our very purpose in being here today. And we see that our communion (our communion with Christ) and our eucharist, our great thanksgiving, is itself a symbol of this great spiritual truth and pattern that is our theme for the day. For in our coming to worship, in our confession, we acknowledge our need of new life. In it we turn from life lived away from this place and from God, focused just on ourselves, and we die to that and come here to seek new life and healing and restoration through the presence and communion and nourishment we receive from the saving presence of Christ’s life that we find in this bread and in this wine.
So what we celebrate today is the new life that God gives us, the new creation that is made, when we turn our lives around and receive that into our hearts. You know, returning to the framework of today’s Bible lessons, I don’t know about our nation’s future in this post-election time. Which way will it go? Also in its conflict and troubles and violence, I have little clue as to where history is going on the international scene. And for sure, the destiny of the earth and our cosmos is not something I’ve been given any insight about. But I do know that in our lives and in our church, if we turn each and every day away from our solitary self absorption and let that die and pass away, and turn to God in prayer and thanksgiving and wonder, living out the love that God is creating, it will be possible for us to sing a new song of a new life and a new creation that comes to us from our savior.
Then we too will be able to sing with Isaiah
Surely it is God who saves me; I will trust and not be afraid.
For the Lord is my stronghold and my sure defense,
and will be my Savior.
Therefore you shall draw water with rejoicing,
from the springs of salvation.
And on that day you shall say,
Give thanks to the Lord and call upon God’s name.
Make God’s deeds known among the peoples,
see that they remember that the Lord’s name is exhaled.
Sing the praises of the Lord, for God have done great things,
and this is known in all the world.
Cry aloud inhabitants of Zion, ring out your joy,
for the great one in the midst of you is the Holy One of Israel.
Amen.
Friday, November 12, 2010
A Sermon Preached November 7, 2010 (All Saints C) by Lee Cheek
FREEDOM TO LOVE
“Love your enemies.” Luke 6:27
“But the holy ones of the Most High shall receive the kingdom and possess the kingdom forever” Daniel 7: 18
It’s Sunday, March 7, 1965, and Jonathan Daniels, a 25 year old, white seminary student at what was then known as Episcopal Theological School in Cambridge, Mass., is watching on national television the dramatic and violent events of a civil rights march gone wrong. A little later in the broadcast he hears Martin Luther King urge Northern white religious leaders to come to Selma, to complete the 52 mile historic march to Montgomery.
Later, at evening prayer, Jonathan sings with gladness the words of the Magnificat: “My Soul doth magnify the Lord.” When he gets to “He has cast down the might from their thrones and has lifted up the lowly,” he knows that he must answer King’s call. On March 9, Jonathan and ten other ETS students travel to Selma where they join thousands of clergy and nuns who accompany King and his followers to Montgomery.
Because of a ban preventing the second march, many leave before it finally takes place on March 21. Jonathan and fellow student Judith Upham decide to stay in Selma through the spring semester. They move in with a black family, tutor the children, and take them to the city’s segregated Episcopal Church, St. Paul’s. Their activism earns them the title of “white niggers” from the local white supremacists. Jonathan writes: “We are deep in enemy territory.”
Jonathan participates in a voter registration march in Camden and has a realization about his attackers while being tear-gassed and threatened. He writes in his journal: “I began to change. I saw that the men who came at me were themselves not free. Even though they were white and hateful and my enemy, they were human beings, too. I began to discover a new freedom in the cross: a freedom to love the enemy and in that freedom to will and to try to set him free.”
In August 1965 Jonathan and several members of SNCC (Student Non-Violent Coordinating Committee) picket a grocery store for abusing black customers in Ft. Deposit. They are arrested and put in the Haynesville jail for several days. They choose to not put up bail in order to buy time for an injunction for the case to go to Federal Court. They are suspiciously released. While deciding what to do they walk to a nearby store to purchase cold drinks. A special deputy is waiting for them at the door with a shotgun. He says: “The store is closed. If you don’t get off this god-damn property I will blow your god-damned brains out.”
Ruby Sales, a 17 year old black SNCC worker, is pulled from behind, the gun is fired and Jonathan falls. He dies immediately. About a month later, the deputy is acquitted by an all-white jury after only two hours deliberation.
After Jonathan’s death, people got stronger. Soon the southern jury system came under attack in scores of affirmative law suits. Within five years blacks were serving on juries, voting, sharing public facilities and holding public office.
Today Jonathan Daniels is honored in the Martyrs Chapel of Canterbury Cathedral and in 1994 his name was added to the Episcopal calendar as a martyr and witness to the Gospel.
Nearly 2000 years before Jonathan’s death, a young rabbi began to proclaim that God is love and has nothing to do with violence. A large group of disciples gathered to join him in his project of turning the long page of history by revealing once and for all the truth about human violence. To make absolutely clear what living in the Kingdom of the God of Love entails, he told them this: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also.
His message was clear: Do not return tit for tat if you have faith that the world can be otherwise.
Less than three years later, every single one of his friends abandoned him to the jaws of the sacrificial death machine that says it is better that one man die. But … three days after his death, they were—to their astonishment—met by a forgiving, totally pacific, loving presence of their betrayed friend that was so real to them, that they rededicated themselves to the spreading the Good News that the True God NEVER requires a sacrifice.
The pilgrimage to the Kingdom of God ceases early for some like Jonathan Daniels, and we call them the holy ones, the saints. Through the witness of their lives, they have passed on the treasure of our inheritance: The knowledge that God is love which bestows upon us the freedom and power to love others without exception.
A very necessary part of my own pilgrimage is the time I spend with you each week to hear the stories and sing the songs of the people who gradually came to know that God is Love. Today, like always, we will come to the table together and together be forgiven. We will be sent out together to magnify this Love in the world in the unique way given to each one of us.
But can I remember by the time I even get to coffee hour? Will I continue to blame my less than charitable responses on someone else’s behavior? Will I continue to make my home in a world shot through and infused with self-righteousness, resentment, reprisals, and the triumphalism of avenged honor? Will I slip out from under the demands of justice and compassion and continue to reproduce what is done to me?
Of course, it is not easy. But to a God who loves me so much that I am forgiven before I ask, I pray: Guide me each moment of my life. Keep me company each day with the un-triumphant saints. Help me learn to love my enemies. So that one day, I may be able to say as Jonathan did:
“I realized that as a Christian I was totally free … at least free to give my life if that had to be, with joy and thankfulness and eagerness for the Kingdom no longer hidden from behind my eyes.”
AMEN.
“Love your enemies.” Luke 6:27
“But the holy ones of the Most High shall receive the kingdom and possess the kingdom forever” Daniel 7: 18
It’s Sunday, March 7, 1965, and Jonathan Daniels, a 25 year old, white seminary student at what was then known as Episcopal Theological School in Cambridge, Mass., is watching on national television the dramatic and violent events of a civil rights march gone wrong. A little later in the broadcast he hears Martin Luther King urge Northern white religious leaders to come to Selma, to complete the 52 mile historic march to Montgomery.
Later, at evening prayer, Jonathan sings with gladness the words of the Magnificat: “My Soul doth magnify the Lord.” When he gets to “He has cast down the might from their thrones and has lifted up the lowly,” he knows that he must answer King’s call. On March 9, Jonathan and ten other ETS students travel to Selma where they join thousands of clergy and nuns who accompany King and his followers to Montgomery.
Because of a ban preventing the second march, many leave before it finally takes place on March 21. Jonathan and fellow student Judith Upham decide to stay in Selma through the spring semester. They move in with a black family, tutor the children, and take them to the city’s segregated Episcopal Church, St. Paul’s. Their activism earns them the title of “white niggers” from the local white supremacists. Jonathan writes: “We are deep in enemy territory.”
Jonathan participates in a voter registration march in Camden and has a realization about his attackers while being tear-gassed and threatened. He writes in his journal: “I began to change. I saw that the men who came at me were themselves not free. Even though they were white and hateful and my enemy, they were human beings, too. I began to discover a new freedom in the cross: a freedom to love the enemy and in that freedom to will and to try to set him free.”
In August 1965 Jonathan and several members of SNCC (Student Non-Violent Coordinating Committee) picket a grocery store for abusing black customers in Ft. Deposit. They are arrested and put in the Haynesville jail for several days. They choose to not put up bail in order to buy time for an injunction for the case to go to Federal Court. They are suspiciously released. While deciding what to do they walk to a nearby store to purchase cold drinks. A special deputy is waiting for them at the door with a shotgun. He says: “The store is closed. If you don’t get off this god-damn property I will blow your god-damned brains out.”
Ruby Sales, a 17 year old black SNCC worker, is pulled from behind, the gun is fired and Jonathan falls. He dies immediately. About a month later, the deputy is acquitted by an all-white jury after only two hours deliberation.
After Jonathan’s death, people got stronger. Soon the southern jury system came under attack in scores of affirmative law suits. Within five years blacks were serving on juries, voting, sharing public facilities and holding public office.
Today Jonathan Daniels is honored in the Martyrs Chapel of Canterbury Cathedral and in 1994 his name was added to the Episcopal calendar as a martyr and witness to the Gospel.
Nearly 2000 years before Jonathan’s death, a young rabbi began to proclaim that God is love and has nothing to do with violence. A large group of disciples gathered to join him in his project of turning the long page of history by revealing once and for all the truth about human violence. To make absolutely clear what living in the Kingdom of the God of Love entails, he told them this: Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who abuse you. If anyone strikes you on the cheek, offer the other also.
His message was clear: Do not return tit for tat if you have faith that the world can be otherwise.
Less than three years later, every single one of his friends abandoned him to the jaws of the sacrificial death machine that says it is better that one man die. But … three days after his death, they were—to their astonishment—met by a forgiving, totally pacific, loving presence of their betrayed friend that was so real to them, that they rededicated themselves to the spreading the Good News that the True God NEVER requires a sacrifice.
The pilgrimage to the Kingdom of God ceases early for some like Jonathan Daniels, and we call them the holy ones, the saints. Through the witness of their lives, they have passed on the treasure of our inheritance: The knowledge that God is love which bestows upon us the freedom and power to love others without exception.
A very necessary part of my own pilgrimage is the time I spend with you each week to hear the stories and sing the songs of the people who gradually came to know that God is Love. Today, like always, we will come to the table together and together be forgiven. We will be sent out together to magnify this Love in the world in the unique way given to each one of us.
But can I remember by the time I even get to coffee hour? Will I continue to blame my less than charitable responses on someone else’s behavior? Will I continue to make my home in a world shot through and infused with self-righteousness, resentment, reprisals, and the triumphalism of avenged honor? Will I slip out from under the demands of justice and compassion and continue to reproduce what is done to me?
Of course, it is not easy. But to a God who loves me so much that I am forgiven before I ask, I pray: Guide me each moment of my life. Keep me company each day with the un-triumphant saints. Help me learn to love my enemies. So that one day, I may be able to say as Jonathan did:
“I realized that as a Christian I was totally free … at least free to give my life if that had to be, with joy and thankfulness and eagerness for the Kingdom no longer hidden from behind my eyes.”
AMEN.
[Facts from Jonathan Daniels’ story are taken from the 2005 film broadcast on PBS Here I Am, Send Me (available in streaming video at http://episcopalonline.org/Featured_Video). The remainder of the sermon was borrowed heavily, gratefully and shamelessly from the writings of James Alison (see publications at http://www.jamesalison.co.uk/index.html), René Girard (Things Hidden Since the Foundation of the World, Stanford University Press, 1987, and other publications http://www.imitatio.org/), and Rowan Williams (Writings in the Dust, Eerdmans, 2002).]
Sunday, October 31, 2010
A Sermon Preached October 31, 2010 (Proper 26 C) by the Rev. Frances A. Hills, Rector
How many of you know that expression, to “go out on a limb?” ‘Means to take a risk. And that’s just what Zacchaeus does in today’s Gospel.
He’s a chief tax collector…one who probably routinely gouges the people of the town. So they consider him an outcast and sinner, someone good people don’t associate with, and so he’s a loner. But somehow the Spirit has moved in him, and Zacchaeus is eager to see Jesus. He’s obviously heard about Jesus somehow, and he wants to see this One who heals the sick, proclaims good news to the poor, and breaks all the Jewish laws because he associates with women, foreigners, children, and sinners…even a tax collector like himself!
So Zacchaeus takes a risk. He goes out to see Jesus, and because he can’t see him through the crowd, he climbs a tree…goes out on a limb. He takes a physical risk in climbing the tree, and he risks the jeers of the townspeople (What’s he doing here?). But most importantly, he risks having his heart changed by what he sees and hears. Of course there’s always the chance Jesus won’t see him, and nothing will happen. But that’s not the case. Not only does Jesus see Zacchaeus, he invites himself to stay in his home! And Zacchaeus, the unpopular one, who usually keeps to himself, is actually excited for Jesus to be his guest. The one who’d probably spent his life gouging others has a change of heart. He becomes generous to the poor. To anyone he’s defrauded, he’s eager to make it up four times over.
Zacchaeus goes from being intrigued by this fellow Jesus to being repentant and converted. And because Zacchaeus changes, his relationship with the entire community changes. He no longer thinks of others as means to the end of making money, but he has a whole new idea of relationship that comes from the love he experiences in his encounter with Jesus.
Now I want us to think for a moment about those who may come to visit St. James. Somehow the Spirit has led them here. They’ve come perhaps through the invitation of a friend or neighbor, perhaps because they are feeling some deep spiritual longing, or perhaps because they found us on the web. However they get here, I believe our visitors are led here by God’s Spirit. So when they come, whether they are aware of it or not, they have come here to see Jesus, to have some real experience of God. They’ve gone to some trouble, perhaps it took them years just to work up the nerve to enter the door of a church. But in one way or another, they’ve “gone out on a limb” to get here. And they may very well feel as precarious and exposed as Zacchaeus probably did in that sycamore tree…‘Wondering if the limb might break, if others might question why they’re here (Maybe they think they’re not worthy to be here?). But they come hoping (or dreading) that they might somehow really see God and be changed. Think about it: When the Spirit leads someone to visit this Church, they may very well experience God. And wonder of wonders, they may experience God through the likes of us!
So I invite each of us to be very mindful of the strangers and guests in our midst. They are holy gifts the Spirit of God has led here, and we are the hands and feet and heart of Jesus, who have the opportunity to welcome these precious Children of God into the life of the Church, the Body of Christ. In experiencing God, they may very well be changed forever. And when one person is changed, it changes the entire community. The host and guest become indistinguishable because together they become a New Creation that God is making.
Imagine the difference in a person when they encounter God and start putting LOVE first. What a different boss, co-worker, or family member they will be. And what a different, more vital church we will because of their presence among us…if we welcome them in!
The chance to see Jesus…It happened with Zacchaeus. It happens here at St. James whenever someone visits. Now I suggest to you that not only our visitors, but all of us are a bit like Zacchaeus whenever we come to Church. The Spirit gets us here, and at some level, we are all here to see Jesus, to experience the living God. As I look at our Youth today, I am especially aware that they long to see Jesus. And that we big people are entrusted with helping them to do just that. No matter what our age, when we come to Church, we’ve all “gone out on a limb” and risked the possibility that we will never be the same. Being here in this place, Jesus may see us. He might even invite himself into our lives, into our homes...24/7. And so we may change: We may come to be more generous, more loving, more forgiving, less concerned with money, more accepting of everyone, and more concerned with justice. We may even become the instruments through which God brings others into God’s family.
It’s risky coming to this Church—for newcomers and old-timers alike. We’re “out on a limb.” We might see Jesus, and when we do, we’ll know Salvation has come to this house, and we will never be the same. Amen.
He’s a chief tax collector…one who probably routinely gouges the people of the town. So they consider him an outcast and sinner, someone good people don’t associate with, and so he’s a loner. But somehow the Spirit has moved in him, and Zacchaeus is eager to see Jesus. He’s obviously heard about Jesus somehow, and he wants to see this One who heals the sick, proclaims good news to the poor, and breaks all the Jewish laws because he associates with women, foreigners, children, and sinners…even a tax collector like himself!
So Zacchaeus takes a risk. He goes out to see Jesus, and because he can’t see him through the crowd, he climbs a tree…goes out on a limb. He takes a physical risk in climbing the tree, and he risks the jeers of the townspeople (What’s he doing here?). But most importantly, he risks having his heart changed by what he sees and hears. Of course there’s always the chance Jesus won’t see him, and nothing will happen. But that’s not the case. Not only does Jesus see Zacchaeus, he invites himself to stay in his home! And Zacchaeus, the unpopular one, who usually keeps to himself, is actually excited for Jesus to be his guest. The one who’d probably spent his life gouging others has a change of heart. He becomes generous to the poor. To anyone he’s defrauded, he’s eager to make it up four times over.
Zacchaeus goes from being intrigued by this fellow Jesus to being repentant and converted. And because Zacchaeus changes, his relationship with the entire community changes. He no longer thinks of others as means to the end of making money, but he has a whole new idea of relationship that comes from the love he experiences in his encounter with Jesus.
Now I want us to think for a moment about those who may come to visit St. James. Somehow the Spirit has led them here. They’ve come perhaps through the invitation of a friend or neighbor, perhaps because they are feeling some deep spiritual longing, or perhaps because they found us on the web. However they get here, I believe our visitors are led here by God’s Spirit. So when they come, whether they are aware of it or not, they have come here to see Jesus, to have some real experience of God. They’ve gone to some trouble, perhaps it took them years just to work up the nerve to enter the door of a church. But in one way or another, they’ve “gone out on a limb” to get here. And they may very well feel as precarious and exposed as Zacchaeus probably did in that sycamore tree…‘Wondering if the limb might break, if others might question why they’re here (Maybe they think they’re not worthy to be here?). But they come hoping (or dreading) that they might somehow really see God and be changed. Think about it: When the Spirit leads someone to visit this Church, they may very well experience God. And wonder of wonders, they may experience God through the likes of us!
So I invite each of us to be very mindful of the strangers and guests in our midst. They are holy gifts the Spirit of God has led here, and we are the hands and feet and heart of Jesus, who have the opportunity to welcome these precious Children of God into the life of the Church, the Body of Christ. In experiencing God, they may very well be changed forever. And when one person is changed, it changes the entire community. The host and guest become indistinguishable because together they become a New Creation that God is making.
Imagine the difference in a person when they encounter God and start putting LOVE first. What a different boss, co-worker, or family member they will be. And what a different, more vital church we will because of their presence among us…if we welcome them in!
The chance to see Jesus…It happened with Zacchaeus. It happens here at St. James whenever someone visits. Now I suggest to you that not only our visitors, but all of us are a bit like Zacchaeus whenever we come to Church. The Spirit gets us here, and at some level, we are all here to see Jesus, to experience the living God. As I look at our Youth today, I am especially aware that they long to see Jesus. And that we big people are entrusted with helping them to do just that. No matter what our age, when we come to Church, we’ve all “gone out on a limb” and risked the possibility that we will never be the same. Being here in this place, Jesus may see us. He might even invite himself into our lives, into our homes...24/7. And so we may change: We may come to be more generous, more loving, more forgiving, less concerned with money, more accepting of everyone, and more concerned with justice. We may even become the instruments through which God brings others into God’s family.
It’s risky coming to this Church—for newcomers and old-timers alike. We’re “out on a limb.” We might see Jesus, and when we do, we’ll know Salvation has come to this house, and we will never be the same. Amen.
Monday, October 18, 2010
A Sermon Preached October 17, 2010 by the Rev. Frances A. Hills, Rector
afraid to get off the page and involved in the blood of real life. Amen.
Monday, September 27, 2010
A sermon preached September 26, 2010 by the Rev. Frances A. Hills, Rector
St. James…We’ve got a lot of stuff!
I know. I saw it boxed up, loaded, moved and stored. It was hard to see
All those memories, hopes and dreams. Some of them mine. Lots of them yours. Even more from the generations who went before us at St. James.
‘Odd how we didn’t get to go through everything: Throw out. Give away. Organize. Pack. It wasn’t because we didn’t want to or try to. In fact a wonderful group of parishioners worked at it for two days, but then they weren’t allowed to finish. ‘Building Inspector thought it was unsafe.
My personal M.O. when I move is to go through everything thoroughly: Polish, repair, and organize. Then I take only what I really want and need. So this “leaving before the bread had time to rise”, so to speak, was really weird for that compulsive part of me. I keep thinking about how someday someone may unpack an office trash can full of dirty Kleenex and phone messages from July 2008.
It was overwhelming to be there. ‘So overwhelming that the Altar Guild folks, who had permission to be there and to pack up the Sacristy, decided it was probably better just to let the movers do it. I think it was better because it was all just so hard.
Fortunately the crew of six professionals who did our move were really sensitive to how emotional and overwhelming it was for us. If movers can be “pastoral”, I’d say the folks from Billy’s Trucking of Pittsfield were “pastoral”. I will always remember their kindness. I’m still exhausted from this, profoundly exhausted.
But I think today’s passage from Jeremiah has a word of real HOPE for us. An old Credence Clearwater Revival song tells us, “Jeremiah was a bullfrog”, but he was also one of God’s Prophets! ‘One of those extraordinary people God calls to be God’s mouthpiece, to say the things God’s people need to hear, whether they are ready to hear it or not!
In the early part of Jeremiah’s prophetic ministry, he speaks words of JUDGMENT and WARNING to God’s people. He said the people had gotten “too far from the basics” and become too obsessed with ritual and temple worship. In those early days, Jeremiah’s word to the people was to return to the Law of Moses and God’s Covenant. For our day the prophecy might be something like, “Get back to the Gospel and loving God and neighbor. “ Jeremiah’s message early on was to get back to the basics of the faith.
Today’s story from Jeremiah, however, is from the latter part of his ministry. It happens after years of strife. While God’s people were off being overly precious about their temple rituals, they became an oppressed vassal of Assyria. Then after Jeremiah had a little surge of hope that the people might return to basics, the Babylonians took over. They destroyed the beloved city Jerusalem. They desecrated and destroyed the sacred temple. They sent many of God’s people into exile in Babylon. God’s people lost most of what they knew, loved, and cherished. Their identity had been wrapped up in their city and in their temple.
During that horrible time, instead of seeking the relative safety of exile, the prophet Jeremiah chooses to stay back in Jerusalem to try to help a remnant of God’s people rebuild their lives. It was nearly a hopeless situation, and God’s people had little chance of surviving the Babylonians—either in Jerusalem or in exile.
So it’s against these dreadful conditions, against all odds, that we come to today’s story. Jeremiah himself is pretty much under “house arrest” in Jerusalem when the “word of the Lord” comes to him. In the middle of the ruins of his city, God sends a message to Jeremiah. Although life will never be like it was before, God tells Jeremiah to buy a parcel of land…in the middle of a war zone! So, much of today’s story is really the details of a real estate deal!
Now, I doubt the lectionary writers actually had our situation in mind, but today your Vestry and St. James Place are all too familiar with such transactions. And we’re learning the importance of making sure all the “T”s are crossed and the “I”s are dotted! Like Jeremiah, we’ve got to get it right to insure the future. God’s message to Jeremiah to buy the land is indeed a message of HOPE.
Hope that somehow, someday (and although everything would be different), the people of God would be able to live on and enjoy their own land again. It reminds me of that phrase in our BCP Burial Office, “Life is changed, not ended.” Their lives were changed, not ended. Our lives are changed, not ended.
This makes me think of how survivors of natural disasters and war must feel. After seeing their lives as they knew them totally destroyed, could they ever possibly have their own home again? It must seem nearly impossible to hope. And when God told Jeremiah to buy the land in Jerusalem, it must have seemed like a totally crazy thing to do…probably even a bullfrog wouldn’t do that! But Jeremiah does it because God tells him to. And in doing it, he shows real HOPE that life under God’s Holy Laws—although changed—might someday go on…even in Jerusalem.
So at this time of such great crisis in which much of what Jeremiah had warned about had come to pass…at this critical time, Jeremiah has gone from being a Prophet of DOOM to being a Prophet of HOPE. His buying the land is a sign of hope, an investment in an unknown future that God promises the people with these words, “Houses and fields and vineyards shall again be bought in this land.”
As we look at our world, at destructive situations far away and near, and as we look at ourselves at St. James, I wonder if we can hear from Jeremiah a word of grace, courage, and hope for our changed lives. What is the “land we can buy” for our children and our children’s children? What are the things we can do as acts of faith in the future? Certainly our support of Jake in Honduras, of the Heifer Project, of ERD’s rebuilding in areas struck by hurricanes and war, of our mission at Gideon’s Garden—especially with the children from WIC and BRIDGE, and even our support of the parish budget in uncertain times…Certainly all these are signs of HOPE. It’s the Hope God calls us to even when we feel we have little reason to hope and even when the situation is so overwhelming we can’t envision a way out.
At these times of darkness—At exactly these times—God makes lavish promises… "Houses and fields and vineyards shall again be bought in this land.” Life is changed, not ended. Given God’s promises, we are called to be faithful and to live in Hope.
Let us pray.
God, give us Hope for our futures that we might live with Joy each day of our lives. Amen.
I know. I saw it boxed up, loaded, moved and stored. It was hard to see
All those memories, hopes and dreams. Some of them mine. Lots of them yours. Even more from the generations who went before us at St. James.
‘Odd how we didn’t get to go through everything: Throw out. Give away. Organize. Pack. It wasn’t because we didn’t want to or try to. In fact a wonderful group of parishioners worked at it for two days, but then they weren’t allowed to finish. ‘Building Inspector thought it was unsafe.
My personal M.O. when I move is to go through everything thoroughly: Polish, repair, and organize. Then I take only what I really want and need. So this “leaving before the bread had time to rise”, so to speak, was really weird for that compulsive part of me. I keep thinking about how someday someone may unpack an office trash can full of dirty Kleenex and phone messages from July 2008.
It was overwhelming to be there. ‘So overwhelming that the Altar Guild folks, who had permission to be there and to pack up the Sacristy, decided it was probably better just to let the movers do it. I think it was better because it was all just so hard.
Fortunately the crew of six professionals who did our move were really sensitive to how emotional and overwhelming it was for us. If movers can be “pastoral”, I’d say the folks from Billy’s Trucking of Pittsfield were “pastoral”. I will always remember their kindness. I’m still exhausted from this, profoundly exhausted.
But I think today’s passage from Jeremiah has a word of real HOPE for us. An old Credence Clearwater Revival song tells us, “Jeremiah was a bullfrog”, but he was also one of God’s Prophets! ‘One of those extraordinary people God calls to be God’s mouthpiece, to say the things God’s people need to hear, whether they are ready to hear it or not!
In the early part of Jeremiah’s prophetic ministry, he speaks words of JUDGMENT and WARNING to God’s people. He said the people had gotten “too far from the basics” and become too obsessed with ritual and temple worship. In those early days, Jeremiah’s word to the people was to return to the Law of Moses and God’s Covenant. For our day the prophecy might be something like, “Get back to the Gospel and loving God and neighbor. “ Jeremiah’s message early on was to get back to the basics of the faith.
Today’s story from Jeremiah, however, is from the latter part of his ministry. It happens after years of strife. While God’s people were off being overly precious about their temple rituals, they became an oppressed vassal of Assyria. Then after Jeremiah had a little surge of hope that the people might return to basics, the Babylonians took over. They destroyed the beloved city Jerusalem. They desecrated and destroyed the sacred temple. They sent many of God’s people into exile in Babylon. God’s people lost most of what they knew, loved, and cherished. Their identity had been wrapped up in their city and in their temple.
During that horrible time, instead of seeking the relative safety of exile, the prophet Jeremiah chooses to stay back in Jerusalem to try to help a remnant of God’s people rebuild their lives. It was nearly a hopeless situation, and God’s people had little chance of surviving the Babylonians—either in Jerusalem or in exile.
So it’s against these dreadful conditions, against all odds, that we come to today’s story. Jeremiah himself is pretty much under “house arrest” in Jerusalem when the “word of the Lord” comes to him. In the middle of the ruins of his city, God sends a message to Jeremiah. Although life will never be like it was before, God tells Jeremiah to buy a parcel of land…in the middle of a war zone! So, much of today’s story is really the details of a real estate deal!
Now, I doubt the lectionary writers actually had our situation in mind, but today your Vestry and St. James Place are all too familiar with such transactions. And we’re learning the importance of making sure all the “T”s are crossed and the “I”s are dotted! Like Jeremiah, we’ve got to get it right to insure the future. God’s message to Jeremiah to buy the land is indeed a message of HOPE.
Hope that somehow, someday (and although everything would be different), the people of God would be able to live on and enjoy their own land again. It reminds me of that phrase in our BCP Burial Office, “Life is changed, not ended.” Their lives were changed, not ended. Our lives are changed, not ended.
This makes me think of how survivors of natural disasters and war must feel. After seeing their lives as they knew them totally destroyed, could they ever possibly have their own home again? It must seem nearly impossible to hope. And when God told Jeremiah to buy the land in Jerusalem, it must have seemed like a totally crazy thing to do…probably even a bullfrog wouldn’t do that! But Jeremiah does it because God tells him to. And in doing it, he shows real HOPE that life under God’s Holy Laws—although changed—might someday go on…even in Jerusalem.
So at this time of such great crisis in which much of what Jeremiah had warned about had come to pass…at this critical time, Jeremiah has gone from being a Prophet of DOOM to being a Prophet of HOPE. His buying the land is a sign of hope, an investment in an unknown future that God promises the people with these words, “Houses and fields and vineyards shall again be bought in this land.”
As we look at our world, at destructive situations far away and near, and as we look at ourselves at St. James, I wonder if we can hear from Jeremiah a word of grace, courage, and hope for our changed lives. What is the “land we can buy” for our children and our children’s children? What are the things we can do as acts of faith in the future? Certainly our support of Jake in Honduras, of the Heifer Project, of ERD’s rebuilding in areas struck by hurricanes and war, of our mission at Gideon’s Garden—especially with the children from WIC and BRIDGE, and even our support of the parish budget in uncertain times…Certainly all these are signs of HOPE. It’s the Hope God calls us to even when we feel we have little reason to hope and even when the situation is so overwhelming we can’t envision a way out.
At these times of darkness—At exactly these times—God makes lavish promises… "Houses and fields and vineyards shall again be bought in this land.” Life is changed, not ended. Given God’s promises, we are called to be faithful and to live in Hope.
Let us pray.
God, give us Hope for our futures that we might live with Joy each day of our lives. Amen.
Sunday, September 19, 2010
Party Time: Honduras Style from Jake Pinkston on teaching mission in Honduras
It is hot. Really hot. Every shady spot along the street is crammed with lawn chairs, occupied by mothers fanning squirming toddlers and grandparents waving flags. Vendors walk the winding paths, hawking their offerings of cold drinks and patriotic paraphernalia Teenagers roam in packs with no real destination in mind, eying their peers of the opposite gender. The parade moves haltingly down the main street in the glaring sun, public officials flanked by military personnel. The high school band follows in full uniform, pounding drums, blasting “I Will Survive” while staff members towel beads of sweat off their brows. Is it the Fourth of July in September? No way. Happy Honduran Independence Day (and every other Central American country)!
While I am often surprised and puzzled by the plethora of holidays Honduran government sanctions, I must give them some appreciation for bunching them all together. Within a week, we celebrated the Day of the Child, the Honduran Independence Day, and Day of the Teacher. Translation: about a week and a half of special programming, parties and vacation. Here we go!
The festivities began last Thursday with the Señorita Independencia contest as part of Month of the Patria, sponsored by the city of La Ceiba. A hybrid of a geography bee and a beauty pageant, almost every school in the city had a senior class representative in the competition, 20 participants total. Dressed in flowing, sequenced gowns adorned in jungle motifs, the ladies gave speeches and answered trivia questions pertaining to Honduras’ past and the students future aspirations for themselves, their school, and their country. They also struck their favorite poses, a la Project Runway for the cheering crowd. Performances of pop hits, ethnic Garifuna drumming, and Christian rock music filled in between events.
It was a well run event by all accounts. The only issue was the timing. The entire secondary school attended the event to support our contestant (it was required). So did every other school, which meant that there were easily 700 people packed into a gym with no air conditioning or fans at the hottest time of the day. The snack shop, which made an absolute killing on the day, ran out of cold drinks in the first half hour. Needless to say, I spent most of the day playing bounty hunter, trying to find the students who decided they had had enough of the spectacle and took off. Probably would have been a better evening event instead of losing the entire school day, but why would the government want us to have school?
Day of the Child, celebrated on Friday, was another resounding success at Holy Trinity. Instead of just throwing a party for themselves, the students planned a party and brought it to a less fortunate community. The 10th grade did such a great job last year that we expanded the program to the entire secondary school. The 7th, 8th, and 9th graders returned to the squatter community along the old Standard Fruit rail line known as La Linea. I joined the 10th and 11th grade to the Clinica, which is a Trinity sponsored health center that provides medical treatment for local families at a reduced cost. The majority of their patrons are poor teen mothers with young children, and those were the kids who came.
The students were on the ball serving a snack and organizing activities as soon as the kids arrived. Everyone then gathered outside for the inviolable smashing of the piñata. We found some shady trees and I climbed up to set the string. This particular piñata was super reinforced to the point where even after every kid beat on it with all their might, it had minimal damage. Hoping to avoid mixing young children, free candy and a violently unpredictable broom handle, I elected to climb the tree again with the piñata and do the much safer “rain of candy”. The added benefit was I could control the flow and distribution so that the less aggressive children got a good haul of sweets. My climbing of the tree produced plenty of laughs and pictures and resulted in a minor splitting of my pants. All part of the job.
The party continued for another couple hours and included musical chairs, steal the bacon, cake and coca cola and a dance-off where I was properly “served” by a precocious ten year old with more dance skills in his right pinky than I have in my entire body. It was hilarious. I was happy to see the students taking initiative and connecting with the children at the Clinica, dancing with them and encouraging participation in the games. We returned to school where the students busted open their own piñata then took off for the weekend, a job well done.
Monday was another party day, this time celebrating the Independence Day (don’t we have vacation for that?). Every class put on a skit for the school that celebrated Honduras’ folk and literary heritage, which I found educational once somebody explained to me what the heck was going on. I never get tired of watching the elementary children dress up in cowboy hats and long skirts and dance with each other. They are too cute. Thanks to the 10th grade, I learned that Honduras has its own version of the headless horseman tale, which is especially entertaining when the “horse” is covered in globs of ketchup (blood?) and the horseman’s head is a pineapple. I also learned the folk tale of the witch, “La Sucia”, a woman jilted by her lover who haunts the riverbanks in her wedding dress. One of my 8th grade boys played a very convincing witch to the delight of the primary students. Following the assembly, the students had a traditional meal of boiled yucca and fried pork skins with ketchup (not in my top ten). As for class, neither the students nor the faculty seemed particularly interested so I folded my tent and enjoyed the company, while discretely avoiding the food.
Tuesday classes were cancelled to celebrate the Day of the Teacher (Ironic? I agree). The administration sponsored transportation and food for an all day barbeque at a local park for the staff. It was a great opportunity for everybody to mingle and relax in a beautiful environment, which had a stream full of fish flowing through the middle and was a short walk from the ocean. There were tons of trees heavy with fruits I had never seen before that many of the teachers picked by the bag to take home. The grilled chicken and pork were accompanied by tortillas, refried beans, salsa and lots of soda. A true feast. Most of us retreated to the river and the beach to avoid the burrowing flies that were chasing everyone from the shade. From the beach, we watched an afternoon storm system crash into La Ceiba, while we remained completely dry. My favorite highlight of the afternoon was throwing bits of fruit rinds into the river and watching the fish ferociously swarm and fight over them. It was like vegetarian piranhas feeding. A great trip to bring the staff together.
September 15th, the actual day of Central American Independence, was the first day of the five day vacation. Most schools participated by marching down the street in their school uniforms, walking in a sort of shuffle step and performing coordinated salutes whenever the parade got backed up (Trinity got a reprieve this year but will be on the march next year). The public high school band played an eight song repertoire without music in sweltering heat and looked like they were having fun. I was so impressed that I followed it all the way to the downtown. I checked in at Holy Trinity on my way home, and enjoyed one more round of Honduran barbeque to support their fund raiser.
After a relaxing week, I am excited to get back to school on Monday and begin the second half of the first term. While I have enjoyed the break, it will be nice to not have to worry about which holiday we are celebrating and how many of my classes will be disrupted. Hopefully, my students will return to class refreshed and motivated and not quite so dramatic when I assign them homework.
It is encouraging to see so much pride in a country that has many daunting challenges to confront. I have loved seeing the students participating in the celebration but hope they can take that enthusiasm and harness it productively as they pursue their education. I am optimistic that the students of Honduras will carry their country toward a better economic and political future. I will keep working to help them in every way I can.
So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.
1 Corinthians 10:31
While I am often surprised and puzzled by the plethora of holidays Honduran government sanctions, I must give them some appreciation for bunching them all together. Within a week, we celebrated the Day of the Child, the Honduran Independence Day, and Day of the Teacher. Translation: about a week and a half of special programming, parties and vacation. Here we go!
The festivities began last Thursday with the Señorita Independencia contest as part of Month of the Patria, sponsored by the city of La Ceiba. A hybrid of a geography bee and a beauty pageant, almost every school in the city had a senior class representative in the competition, 20 participants total. Dressed in flowing, sequenced gowns adorned in jungle motifs, the ladies gave speeches and answered trivia questions pertaining to Honduras’ past and the students future aspirations for themselves, their school, and their country. They also struck their favorite poses, a la Project Runway for the cheering crowd. Performances of pop hits, ethnic Garifuna drumming, and Christian rock music filled in between events.
It was a well run event by all accounts. The only issue was the timing. The entire secondary school attended the event to support our contestant (it was required). So did every other school, which meant that there were easily 700 people packed into a gym with no air conditioning or fans at the hottest time of the day. The snack shop, which made an absolute killing on the day, ran out of cold drinks in the first half hour. Needless to say, I spent most of the day playing bounty hunter, trying to find the students who decided they had had enough of the spectacle and took off. Probably would have been a better evening event instead of losing the entire school day, but why would the government want us to have school?
Day of the Child, celebrated on Friday, was another resounding success at Holy Trinity. Instead of just throwing a party for themselves, the students planned a party and brought it to a less fortunate community. The 10th grade did such a great job last year that we expanded the program to the entire secondary school. The 7th, 8th, and 9th graders returned to the squatter community along the old Standard Fruit rail line known as La Linea. I joined the 10th and 11th grade to the Clinica, which is a Trinity sponsored health center that provides medical treatment for local families at a reduced cost. The majority of their patrons are poor teen mothers with young children, and those were the kids who came.
The students were on the ball serving a snack and organizing activities as soon as the kids arrived. Everyone then gathered outside for the inviolable smashing of the piñata. We found some shady trees and I climbed up to set the string. This particular piñata was super reinforced to the point where even after every kid beat on it with all their might, it had minimal damage. Hoping to avoid mixing young children, free candy and a violently unpredictable broom handle, I elected to climb the tree again with the piñata and do the much safer “rain of candy”. The added benefit was I could control the flow and distribution so that the less aggressive children got a good haul of sweets. My climbing of the tree produced plenty of laughs and pictures and resulted in a minor splitting of my pants. All part of the job.
The party continued for another couple hours and included musical chairs, steal the bacon, cake and coca cola and a dance-off where I was properly “served” by a precocious ten year old with more dance skills in his right pinky than I have in my entire body. It was hilarious. I was happy to see the students taking initiative and connecting with the children at the Clinica, dancing with them and encouraging participation in the games. We returned to school where the students busted open their own piñata then took off for the weekend, a job well done.
Monday was another party day, this time celebrating the Independence Day (don’t we have vacation for that?). Every class put on a skit for the school that celebrated Honduras’ folk and literary heritage, which I found educational once somebody explained to me what the heck was going on. I never get tired of watching the elementary children dress up in cowboy hats and long skirts and dance with each other. They are too cute. Thanks to the 10th grade, I learned that Honduras has its own version of the headless horseman tale, which is especially entertaining when the “horse” is covered in globs of ketchup (blood?) and the horseman’s head is a pineapple. I also learned the folk tale of the witch, “La Sucia”, a woman jilted by her lover who haunts the riverbanks in her wedding dress. One of my 8th grade boys played a very convincing witch to the delight of the primary students. Following the assembly, the students had a traditional meal of boiled yucca and fried pork skins with ketchup (not in my top ten). As for class, neither the students nor the faculty seemed particularly interested so I folded my tent and enjoyed the company, while discretely avoiding the food.
Tuesday classes were cancelled to celebrate the Day of the Teacher (Ironic? I agree). The administration sponsored transportation and food for an all day barbeque at a local park for the staff. It was a great opportunity for everybody to mingle and relax in a beautiful environment, which had a stream full of fish flowing through the middle and was a short walk from the ocean. There were tons of trees heavy with fruits I had never seen before that many of the teachers picked by the bag to take home. The grilled chicken and pork were accompanied by tortillas, refried beans, salsa and lots of soda. A true feast. Most of us retreated to the river and the beach to avoid the burrowing flies that were chasing everyone from the shade. From the beach, we watched an afternoon storm system crash into La Ceiba, while we remained completely dry. My favorite highlight of the afternoon was throwing bits of fruit rinds into the river and watching the fish ferociously swarm and fight over them. It was like vegetarian piranhas feeding. A great trip to bring the staff together.
September 15th, the actual day of Central American Independence, was the first day of the five day vacation. Most schools participated by marching down the street in their school uniforms, walking in a sort of shuffle step and performing coordinated salutes whenever the parade got backed up (Trinity got a reprieve this year but will be on the march next year). The public high school band played an eight song repertoire without music in sweltering heat and looked like they were having fun. I was so impressed that I followed it all the way to the downtown. I checked in at Holy Trinity on my way home, and enjoyed one more round of Honduran barbeque to support their fund raiser.
After a relaxing week, I am excited to get back to school on Monday and begin the second half of the first term. While I have enjoyed the break, it will be nice to not have to worry about which holiday we are celebrating and how many of my classes will be disrupted. Hopefully, my students will return to class refreshed and motivated and not quite so dramatic when I assign them homework.
It is encouraging to see so much pride in a country that has many daunting challenges to confront. I have loved seeing the students participating in the celebration but hope they can take that enthusiasm and harness it productively as they pursue their education. I am optimistic that the students of Honduras will carry their country toward a better economic and political future. I will keep working to help them in every way I can.
So, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God.
1 Corinthians 10:31
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Cats, Chaos, and Continuation: My First Week Back - from Jake Pinkston on teaching mission in Honduras
As I was drifting off to sleep last night, I heard a low growling coming through the air conditioning unit. At first, I thought it might be the motor slowing down because the power was fluctuating. The noise grew steadily louder. Suddenly, there was a hiss, a screech and a thump as the cats from next door rolled off the roof, hit the sidewalk below, and began brawling with each other. Unable to sleep through the fracas, I opened the back door to chase them away, only to set off the outdoor motion detector alarm, waking up everyone else in the house. The cats moved their battle elsewhere, the alarm eventually shut off, and normalcy was restored.
Preparing for my second year in Honduras, I expected a similar experience to last year; settling in quickly with few surprises. So far that has not quite been the case.
I arrived a week ago Sunday to find my housing situation in limbo. There was a possibility around March of three long term missionaries to be working at Holy Trinity this year. A three bedroom cottage a block from the church came up for rent, and the church picked it up. I already had an apartment at the time so some parishioners who were in need of short term housing were given the house to live in until the next school year when I would move in with the rest of the missionaries.
Fast forward to my arrival last week: the cottage is still occupied by the family and in need of major cleaning and maintenance. The three full time missionaries are down to just me and Dana, an ALCOA scientist from Pittsburgh who is here on a four week mission. While work was done on the house, we stayed in Veronica Flowers’ guest rooms. By the end of the week, everything was finally cleaned out, scrubbed out, swept out and fumigated, minus some moldy cupboards and residual dead pests.
However, when I went to turn on the shower, I found little more than a generous, lukewarm, drip. Apparently this part of La Ceiba has very low water pressure. In order to fix the problem, a significant investment would have to be made in a water drum and electrical pump. I mastered the art of the bucket bath while teaching in India a few years back, but that would be a hard sell to prospective missioners coming from the United States. The cottage project was officially abandoned, and I am living at Veronica’s until an apartment at my residence last year opens up in about a week.
School has been equally turbulent in the past week. The buildings are undergoing a full makeover, but the painters got behind schedule, preventing the teachers from getting their classrooms and office spaces ready until late in the week. They are still doing touch up work as I write. Most of the students waited until the last minute to register for classes, occupying the administration and throwing off teacher orientation. Missing schedules and miscommunication meant that I did not find out what classes I would be teaching until Friday and the text book situation remains unclear.
Yet in spite of all the chaos and uncertainty, the students flowed through the doors yesterday at 7 am to begin the new school year. We had an all-school Eucharist and welcoming assembly before the students retreated to their homerooms for class overviews and rules. It was a wonderful feeling to be standing in front of so many familiar faces again with the entire year ahead. It is like I never left.
This year I will be working with the 9th, 10th, and 11th graders, which should be a little less stressful as their English abilities are more advanced than the younger classes. My schedule is much fuller than last year but I am excited about teaching new courses and solidifying the upper level science curriculum. I will teach the same 9th Grade Physical Science and 10th Grade Chemistry and Biology classes I taught last year. I will also be teaching 11th Grade Chemistry and Biology, 10th Grade Ancient History, 11th Grade Modern History, and help with the art classes. The history and art classes should be particularly interesting as I will be challenged to develop a different approach and format for my lessons.
Looking at the year ahead, there are still a lot of unknowns intermingled with the familiar. I will live in the same place (hopefully soon…), but in a different apartment. I will be in the same school, but with a different mix of faculty and students. I have reconnected with many of my Honduran friends, but I already feel absence of Mike and Betty, who finished their missionary tour last year. I will be focusing on the place I am, but also looking ahead to next year and what I want to pursue. While it has been a bumpy start to the year, I feel the path already starting to level out. Like the cats last night, the disruptions are only temporary distractions to my goals. I know that if I continue to work hard, be patient, and trust in God, the right things will happen.
Commit your way to the Lord;
trust in him, and he will act.
He will bring forth your righteousness as the light,
and your justice as the noonday.
Psalm 36: 5-6
Preparing for my second year in Honduras, I expected a similar experience to last year; settling in quickly with few surprises. So far that has not quite been the case.
I arrived a week ago Sunday to find my housing situation in limbo. There was a possibility around March of three long term missionaries to be working at Holy Trinity this year. A three bedroom cottage a block from the church came up for rent, and the church picked it up. I already had an apartment at the time so some parishioners who were in need of short term housing were given the house to live in until the next school year when I would move in with the rest of the missionaries.
Fast forward to my arrival last week: the cottage is still occupied by the family and in need of major cleaning and maintenance. The three full time missionaries are down to just me and Dana, an ALCOA scientist from Pittsburgh who is here on a four week mission. While work was done on the house, we stayed in Veronica Flowers’ guest rooms. By the end of the week, everything was finally cleaned out, scrubbed out, swept out and fumigated, minus some moldy cupboards and residual dead pests.
However, when I went to turn on the shower, I found little more than a generous, lukewarm, drip. Apparently this part of La Ceiba has very low water pressure. In order to fix the problem, a significant investment would have to be made in a water drum and electrical pump. I mastered the art of the bucket bath while teaching in India a few years back, but that would be a hard sell to prospective missioners coming from the United States. The cottage project was officially abandoned, and I am living at Veronica’s until an apartment at my residence last year opens up in about a week.
School has been equally turbulent in the past week. The buildings are undergoing a full makeover, but the painters got behind schedule, preventing the teachers from getting their classrooms and office spaces ready until late in the week. They are still doing touch up work as I write. Most of the students waited until the last minute to register for classes, occupying the administration and throwing off teacher orientation. Missing schedules and miscommunication meant that I did not find out what classes I would be teaching until Friday and the text book situation remains unclear.
Yet in spite of all the chaos and uncertainty, the students flowed through the doors yesterday at 7 am to begin the new school year. We had an all-school Eucharist and welcoming assembly before the students retreated to their homerooms for class overviews and rules. It was a wonderful feeling to be standing in front of so many familiar faces again with the entire year ahead. It is like I never left.
This year I will be working with the 9th, 10th, and 11th graders, which should be a little less stressful as their English abilities are more advanced than the younger classes. My schedule is much fuller than last year but I am excited about teaching new courses and solidifying the upper level science curriculum. I will teach the same 9th Grade Physical Science and 10th Grade Chemistry and Biology classes I taught last year. I will also be teaching 11th Grade Chemistry and Biology, 10th Grade Ancient History, 11th Grade Modern History, and help with the art classes. The history and art classes should be particularly interesting as I will be challenged to develop a different approach and format for my lessons.
Looking at the year ahead, there are still a lot of unknowns intermingled with the familiar. I will live in the same place (hopefully soon…), but in a different apartment. I will be in the same school, but with a different mix of faculty and students. I have reconnected with many of my Honduran friends, but I already feel absence of Mike and Betty, who finished their missionary tour last year. I will be focusing on the place I am, but also looking ahead to next year and what I want to pursue. While it has been a bumpy start to the year, I feel the path already starting to level out. Like the cats last night, the disruptions are only temporary distractions to my goals. I know that if I continue to work hard, be patient, and trust in God, the right things will happen.
Commit your way to the Lord;
trust in him, and he will act.
He will bring forth your righteousness as the light,
and your justice as the noonday.
Psalm 36: 5-6
Sunday, August 1, 2010
A Heartfelt "Thank You" from the Rev. Noreen Suriner, delivered August 1, 2010
I come today not to preach, but tell a story of your history. A little story.
A young 3rd grade teacher came to Gt. Barrington, and while at a New Year’s Eve Party,
She met a priest, dressed in a bright red jacket, Pierce Middleton, shooting craps.
After traveling many miles to church, she visited nearby St. James. While she found the people friendly and the priest welcoming, The Book of Common Prayer was a mystery— The order of service didn’t make any sense and there were no pictures in the book. The priest would say prayers that weren’t there so even after she was directed to the correct place, she would immediately get lost again.
This young teacher held a bible club after school where 30 or so children came each Wednesday to learn simple bible stories, sing simple songs and to work on crafts. They would learn stories such as Mary Magdalene, Moses, Gideon, even Jesus.
Since there were so many children and her apartment was too small, Pierce welcomed the teacher and the 30 children into St. James where for months they enjoyed the great room. Additionally Pierce gave money for the teacher to purchase bibles and snacks for the children.
After a few weeks of attending St. James, and still bewildered by the Book of Common Prayer-it wasn’t so common for her, Pierce invited her to meet the newly elected Diocesan Bishop, Alexander Stewart at Trinity Church in Lenox. He was holding a preaching mission.
The teacher was traveling with friends from AIER and members of St. James, and they headed off to Lenox on Feb 16th. There she was the first person out to shake the Bishop’s hand and exclaimed, “Wow, an Evangelical sermon in an Episcopal Church.”
The bishop, with his bushy eyebrows, intensely asked, “Who are you?”
After hearing she was a teacher and had graduated from a nearby college, He immediately responded with “I am sending young people traveling…are you interested?”
Not only was she interested, she was willing. She had visions of traveling around the country, visiting various churches, perhaps even singing in a traveling singing group….
But he actually meant traveling for Vacation Bible Schools and only in the Diocese of Western Mass.
It wasn’t as extensive as she had hoped, but it was traveling…..
Bishop Stewart asked her to wait to get her information. He had a very full congregation to greet. So she and her hosts waited….. And waited….. And waited…..
Eventually, it was decided the bishop, while well meaning, wasn’t going to get to her. As they walked out of the parish hall, she literally bumped into the bishop. There he got her name and address.
However, she heard nothing for several months. But was convinced he would hire her during that summer, so she passed on summer school teaching job. Just before the close of school, she got a phone call to meet at the Lenox School for boys.
Over Cold Duck as the team for the summer Vacation Bible School was assembled. They toasted. It was then, the bishop said to the young teacher. You will be my first woman priest. This was in 1970 when women priests didn’t exist. We all laughed.
Your congregation, St. James, was instrumental in the first woman in Western Mass to be ordained. Your congregation opened the door for a young teacher, not only to be fed by the Eucharist, to find a spiritual home, to have a place of intellectual growth and spiritual nurture.
It was also a place for service.
I tell this story, because your congregation welcomed this young teacher into the Episcopal Church. Your congregation started this young teacher on a meaningful spiritual journey. I tell you this story because this young teacher, now a retired priest, comes to say thank you.
Thank you for being God’s instrument to propel the woman to become the Bishop’s first woman he ordained; To become the first woman to serve as the President of the Episcopal Clergy Association;
First woman to serve as a Church Pension Fund trustee, and finally as Vice Chair.
After 36 or so years, this priest, comes to you, St. James, to Say with a grateful heart
Thank you.
Thank you.
Sunday, July 18, 2010
A Return Visit
I returned to St Bede's Santa Fe today. Because I no longer feel like a tourist, I have not given it that title here. Someone on the HOBD list serv recently quoted Verna Dozier " The institutional church found out that following Christ was hard work. It was much easier just to worship Him." I think this sums up the difference between the two churches here.
I think that Gideon's Garden is about following Christ. If our worship does not produce such fruit, then it is just a lot of (well performed) hot air. But worship can nourish human beings and help send us out to perform the work that the Gospel compels us to do.
I have visited a lot of churches and know what it feels like to walk into an unfamiliar one. We are fortunate in the Episcopal Church that our ritual and common prayer help to bind us together. It can ease the anxiety and create a sense of belonging and familiar structure even when details are not the same. But without a warm welcome all this is for nothing really.
Today I received a very warm welcome as I returned to St Bede's having visited for the first time two weeks ago. Several people greeted me by name. Many who did not remember me offered a smile or other friendly greeting as I entered the church. They do not ignore the stranger here! The octagonal shape of the Sanctuary helps to give a sense of being embraced by a community.
I hope that everyone at St James gets a chance to visit other churches and experience what it is like to be a stranger. Of course it is easier for some than others. But I hope that every time I see an unfamiliar face in our congregation that I am able to in some small way make them feel welcome. Otherwise we will end up being a bunch of Mrs Beamishes.
I think that Gideon's Garden is about following Christ. If our worship does not produce such fruit, then it is just a lot of (well performed) hot air. But worship can nourish human beings and help send us out to perform the work that the Gospel compels us to do.
I have visited a lot of churches and know what it feels like to walk into an unfamiliar one. We are fortunate in the Episcopal Church that our ritual and common prayer help to bind us together. It can ease the anxiety and create a sense of belonging and familiar structure even when details are not the same. But without a warm welcome all this is for nothing really.
Today I received a very warm welcome as I returned to St Bede's having visited for the first time two weeks ago. Several people greeted me by name. Many who did not remember me offered a smile or other friendly greeting as I entered the church. They do not ignore the stranger here! The octagonal shape of the Sanctuary helps to give a sense of being embraced by a community.
I hope that everyone at St James gets a chance to visit other churches and experience what it is like to be a stranger. Of course it is easier for some than others. But I hope that every time I see an unfamiliar face in our congregation that I am able to in some small way make them feel welcome. Otherwise we will end up being a bunch of Mrs Beamishes.
Sunday, July 11, 2010
The Episcopal Tourist, Santa Fe
Today I attended The Church of the Holy Faith. It is a building that blends southwestern and traditional styles. The interior has stained glass windows and exposed beams above. They have a fine pipe organ and choir.
The greeters at the front door gave me a nice welcome though I had difficulty engaging others I saw along the way.
The organ burst out gloriously for the opening hymn "Love Divine all Loves Excelling". There was a very dignified processional with crosses at the beginning and end. This was all rite one with the most traditional forms used for everything. The language was not gender inclusive.
The woman reading the first lesson had a very large black hat. She spoke with a slight British accent and her words were very clear. The Psalm was done in Anglican Chant and Charles would have approved as it moved in a natural speaking rhythm. The Gospel procession was executed with great precision, the acolytes in perfect sync.
The sermon was delivered by the associate rector the Rev Curtis Norman. He dwelt on a number of points concerning the Luke Gospel of the good Samaritan. Who is our neighbor? It is not just those who live near us. Jesus's parable expands the definition Love depends on deeds. The mission of Jesus was to restore broken humanity. We are those broken people. When we accept his compassion, Jesus takes us off that dangerous road. We are to show that compassion to the world.
The prayers of the people were read by the priest, followed by confession and absolution. The peace was quickly celebrated and the children were led out to Sunday school.
The offertory solo was sung like last week at St Bedes by an apprentice from the Santa Fe Opera program. Mezzo soprano Renee Tatum delivered "There is a Balm in Gilead" with deep and rich tone. I hope all were moved as much as I was.
The Sursum Corda was delivered facing the congregation, but after that the Deacon, Sub Deacon and Celebrant turned to the high Altar. All during the service I needed to pay close attention to the BCP in order to come out with the correct responses.
After the prayer of Humble Access (crumbs under the table and all) we received kneeling at the altar rail. The choir sang Durufle's "Ubi Caritas.
After the recessional, "Joyful we adore thee" the organist improvised a postlude to that tune and I listened with great appreciation for his skill.
The lady in the pew with me engaged me in conversation and complimented my singing. I recognized patrons of the opera who had had our cast to their house last week. But I can not say that anyone else greeted me other than the priests at the front door as I left. And no one offered to take me to the coffee hour which I did not attend.
I found the service very moving on many levels Anglo Catholicism at its finest, great music, liturgy and ritual done with dignity and precision, and beautiful surroundings. But I have grown impatient with rite one with its archaic speech and old fashioned theology. Do we really think that God has "wrath and indignation" for us? I also cringed at the non gender inclusive language," for us and for all men" and God spoken always as "He". I grew up with this and have always admired its majesty and beauty, but now in the 21st century I do not think it represents our idea of what God is. How long will some churches hang on to this?
The greeters at the front door gave me a nice welcome though I had difficulty engaging others I saw along the way.
The organ burst out gloriously for the opening hymn "Love Divine all Loves Excelling". There was a very dignified processional with crosses at the beginning and end. This was all rite one with the most traditional forms used for everything. The language was not gender inclusive.
The woman reading the first lesson had a very large black hat. She spoke with a slight British accent and her words were very clear. The Psalm was done in Anglican Chant and Charles would have approved as it moved in a natural speaking rhythm. The Gospel procession was executed with great precision, the acolytes in perfect sync.
The sermon was delivered by the associate rector the Rev Curtis Norman. He dwelt on a number of points concerning the Luke Gospel of the good Samaritan. Who is our neighbor? It is not just those who live near us. Jesus's parable expands the definition Love depends on deeds. The mission of Jesus was to restore broken humanity. We are those broken people. When we accept his compassion, Jesus takes us off that dangerous road. We are to show that compassion to the world.
The prayers of the people were read by the priest, followed by confession and absolution. The peace was quickly celebrated and the children were led out to Sunday school.
The offertory solo was sung like last week at St Bedes by an apprentice from the Santa Fe Opera program. Mezzo soprano Renee Tatum delivered "There is a Balm in Gilead" with deep and rich tone. I hope all were moved as much as I was.
The Sursum Corda was delivered facing the congregation, but after that the Deacon, Sub Deacon and Celebrant turned to the high Altar. All during the service I needed to pay close attention to the BCP in order to come out with the correct responses.
After the prayer of Humble Access (crumbs under the table and all) we received kneeling at the altar rail. The choir sang Durufle's "Ubi Caritas.
After the recessional, "Joyful we adore thee" the organist improvised a postlude to that tune and I listened with great appreciation for his skill.
The lady in the pew with me engaged me in conversation and complimented my singing. I recognized patrons of the opera who had had our cast to their house last week. But I can not say that anyone else greeted me other than the priests at the front door as I left. And no one offered to take me to the coffee hour which I did not attend.
I found the service very moving on many levels Anglo Catholicism at its finest, great music, liturgy and ritual done with dignity and precision, and beautiful surroundings. But I have grown impatient with rite one with its archaic speech and old fashioned theology. Do we really think that God has "wrath and indignation" for us? I also cringed at the non gender inclusive language," for us and for all men" and God spoken always as "He". I grew up with this and have always admired its majesty and beauty, but now in the 21st century I do not think it represents our idea of what God is. How long will some churches hang on to this?
A Sermon Preached July 11, 2010, Proper 10 C by the Rev. Frances A. Hills, Rector
‘Don’t know why, but I never tire of the story of the Good Samaritan. It always makes me remember a Vacation Bible School one of the first summers I was ordained. We told the story of the Good Samaritan to the children and then asked them to dramatize it. I remember the man who was attacked by robbers was played by a very small little boy. And I remember not the faces, but the attitudes, of all the others…The robbers, the Priest, the Levite, and the Good Samaritan.
Now according to the children, the robbers were sort of mean thrill-seekers… ‘Just roughing up a guy they didn’t even know for the heck of it and to get his money in the process. It was basically an impersonal thing, just something they did maybe because they were bored. The Priest and Levite were a different thing: One actively sneered at the injured man, as if to justify his indifference, and the other just pretended not to see him at all.
The Samaritan’s attitude was a bit of a surprise to me. He was played by a tall, lanky teenager, and he did what he did quite matter-of-factly. There was no great emotion or gushing, like, “You poor, wretched thing.” He simply applied the appropriate first aid, and then gently picked up the victim and placed him over his own shoulder (there was no pack animal in their play!) and carried him off to the inn. As if to say, “He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother.” As if to say, “Here is another human being. Regardless of our ethnic and social differences, this brother human being needs help, and I gladly take it on myself to help him. It’s the least I can do, and it’s certainly what I’d want someone else to do for me in the same circumstances.” Well, the children got all this across without a word! Their body language and acting said it all. (My hunch is the way we act and our body language often “says it all” about us as well.)
But as I think about this parable Jesus told, I really wonder what message he intended. Why was the “good guy” the despised Samaritan? If the Vacation Bible School children were right, and Jesus simply wanted us to understand how important it is to do acts of mercy, it wouldn’t matter to the story who the people were. We wouldn’t have needed the detail that they were a Priest, a Levite and a Samaritan. And if Jesus was wanting to poke at the hypocrisy of some ordained types, the third man should have been a Jewish lay person, and that would have made the point much better. If Jesus was wanting to illustrate that we are to love our enemies, then it seems the victim, not the mercy-giver, would have been the Samaritan. But, the mercy-giver was a Samaritan, so perhaps the parable’s propose is to shake us out of being too smug about our own particular religion or ethnic group.
However, today my mind goes back to the little boy who played the man who was beaten, robbed, and left half dead. He had no choice in the thing (about being hurt or being helped). He was basically unconscious and no doubt in pain when Grace came to him, and in the most unlikely way…Through the mercy of a Samaritan, a person considered detestable by Jews.
I wonder if that’s really the main point of this parable: That we have to “be in the ditch”, a low/desperate place, or at least, we have to be like a little child in a helpless place…a place where we don’t really expect that anyone can/will/would help us, before we can receive God’s full grace and mercy.
Think about times in your lives when you may have been “in a ditch” or weak and helpless. And think about how help came to you. What happened that made you better? Who helped make you better? My hunch is it came in a most unexpected way and through the mercies of people you might never have imagined. That’s how God’s grace works. We don’t earn it or deserve it. Sometimes we don’t even ask for it. Grace just IS!
Now today we will all be witnesses to such Grace as we baptize Aidan into the Body of Christ. Aidan’s certainly not “in the ditch”, but he is small and helpless. He’s going to be baptized here not because he’s earned it or deserves it, but because his parents and godparents and all of us are here, as mercy givers, are asking God to bestow upon Aidan this priceless gift of Abundant Life. This Child of God will be marked as Christ’s own forever, as were his siblings Gabriel and Olivia before him.
And today there will be yet another Grace as the twins receive Holy Communion for the first time. Not because they’ve earned it or really deserve it but because they desire it, Olivia and Gabriel will be nourished in an unexpected form—a tiny piece of bread, which will become for them, and for all of us, the Body of Christ, the bread of heaven!
As I think back on that Vacation Bible School drama of so long ago, I have a new understanding of why the children chose a tiny boy to be the victim. I thought it was just so the teenaged-Samaritan could carry him more easily. But today I think those children understood something I did not: It’s not the big and strong who are able to receive God’s Mercy. It’s the ones “in a ditch”, the helpless, the desperate, and the little ones who are truly receptive to the healing gift and treasure or God’s Amazing Grace.
Amen.
Now according to the children, the robbers were sort of mean thrill-seekers… ‘Just roughing up a guy they didn’t even know for the heck of it and to get his money in the process. It was basically an impersonal thing, just something they did maybe because they were bored. The Priest and Levite were a different thing: One actively sneered at the injured man, as if to justify his indifference, and the other just pretended not to see him at all.
The Samaritan’s attitude was a bit of a surprise to me. He was played by a tall, lanky teenager, and he did what he did quite matter-of-factly. There was no great emotion or gushing, like, “You poor, wretched thing.” He simply applied the appropriate first aid, and then gently picked up the victim and placed him over his own shoulder (there was no pack animal in their play!) and carried him off to the inn. As if to say, “He ain’t heavy, he’s my brother.” As if to say, “Here is another human being. Regardless of our ethnic and social differences, this brother human being needs help, and I gladly take it on myself to help him. It’s the least I can do, and it’s certainly what I’d want someone else to do for me in the same circumstances.” Well, the children got all this across without a word! Their body language and acting said it all. (My hunch is the way we act and our body language often “says it all” about us as well.)
But as I think about this parable Jesus told, I really wonder what message he intended. Why was the “good guy” the despised Samaritan? If the Vacation Bible School children were right, and Jesus simply wanted us to understand how important it is to do acts of mercy, it wouldn’t matter to the story who the people were. We wouldn’t have needed the detail that they were a Priest, a Levite and a Samaritan. And if Jesus was wanting to poke at the hypocrisy of some ordained types, the third man should have been a Jewish lay person, and that would have made the point much better. If Jesus was wanting to illustrate that we are to love our enemies, then it seems the victim, not the mercy-giver, would have been the Samaritan. But, the mercy-giver was a Samaritan, so perhaps the parable’s propose is to shake us out of being too smug about our own particular religion or ethnic group.
However, today my mind goes back to the little boy who played the man who was beaten, robbed, and left half dead. He had no choice in the thing (about being hurt or being helped). He was basically unconscious and no doubt in pain when Grace came to him, and in the most unlikely way…Through the mercy of a Samaritan, a person considered detestable by Jews.
I wonder if that’s really the main point of this parable: That we have to “be in the ditch”, a low/desperate place, or at least, we have to be like a little child in a helpless place…a place where we don’t really expect that anyone can/will/would help us, before we can receive God’s full grace and mercy.
Think about times in your lives when you may have been “in a ditch” or weak and helpless. And think about how help came to you. What happened that made you better? Who helped make you better? My hunch is it came in a most unexpected way and through the mercies of people you might never have imagined. That’s how God’s grace works. We don’t earn it or deserve it. Sometimes we don’t even ask for it. Grace just IS!
Now today we will all be witnesses to such Grace as we baptize Aidan into the Body of Christ. Aidan’s certainly not “in the ditch”, but he is small and helpless. He’s going to be baptized here not because he’s earned it or deserves it, but because his parents and godparents and all of us are here, as mercy givers, are asking God to bestow upon Aidan this priceless gift of Abundant Life. This Child of God will be marked as Christ’s own forever, as were his siblings Gabriel and Olivia before him.
And today there will be yet another Grace as the twins receive Holy Communion for the first time. Not because they’ve earned it or really deserve it but because they desire it, Olivia and Gabriel will be nourished in an unexpected form—a tiny piece of bread, which will become for them, and for all of us, the Body of Christ, the bread of heaven!
As I think back on that Vacation Bible School drama of so long ago, I have a new understanding of why the children chose a tiny boy to be the victim. I thought it was just so the teenaged-Samaritan could carry him more easily. But today I think those children understood something I did not: It’s not the big and strong who are able to receive God’s Mercy. It’s the ones “in a ditch”, the helpless, the desperate, and the little ones who are truly receptive to the healing gift and treasure or God’s Amazing Grace.
Amen.
Sunday, July 4, 2010
A Sermon Preached July 4, 2010, Proper 9 C by the Rev. Frances A. Hills, Rector
Today’s Gospel is familiar to many of us at St. James. We used it as our “Dwelling in the Word” passage for the entire first year of the Partnership for Missional Church process.
Jesus sends out 70 disciples, Two by two to spread God’s peace to the towns and to cure the sick. Now when these disciples are welcomed and well-received, God’s peace is shared, hospitality is offered and gratefully received, and the sick are healed. When this happens, Jesus tells the disciples to say to the town, “The Kingdom of God is come nigh unto you.” (The King James Version we heard today). I love that phrase…“The Kingdom of God is come nigh unto you” or (the more familiar from the New Revised Standard Version) “The Kingdom of God has come near.” It’s almost like the Kingdom walks by and dusts us with the fragrant hem of its garment.
And aren’t there times in our lives when the Kingdom of God seems to “dust” us: When it has indeed come near to us, when we or someone else has been open and receptive to God’s deep peace and healing? The place where I am most aware of this right now at St. James is at Gideon’s Garden.
The Spirit nudged our young people to have a garden to feed the hungry. Parishioner Pennie Curry took the word out, and the wonderful people of Taft Farms offered gracious hospitality to help make it happen. And so young people from all over the area go out two by two by two to plant, tend, stake-up, and water.
Before we know it, the harvest is truly plentiful, and more laborers are always welcome and needed. And true to the kids’ original mission…HUNGRY PEOPLE ARE FED. The bountiful produce goes to the People’s Pantry, Breaking Bread Kitchen, the Stockbridge Open Table, and others in the community who need food. But I think what’s going on with these young people, and with all the other people who even hear about this garden—I think these people may be the REAL harvest!
The young people of St. James are involved. It’s their garden! And they also bring their friends. There’s also some youth from St. Paul’s Stockbridge, and several young people from the wider community. So Gideon’s Garden is a place, not unlike a traditional church, where a variety of people gather, who might not know or even like each other otherwise, but they learn to care for each other because they’re all Children of God. As with big people, sometimes this learning to care takes awhile…it isn’t easy. Boundaries must be set. But when it happens for them (as for us big people), true community is formed. There is healing, reconciliation, peace—the Kingdom of God has come near.
And the Kingdom is near as well when young people find their strengths, and learn how grounding and good it is to get their hands dirty in work that ultimately feeds hungry people. When this happens, again there is healing: Hungry people are literally nourished; and the children are nourished, and they grow at least as much as the plants! All this going out and nurturing and healing and growing and transforming and feeding is ultimately the work of God’s Spirit of Mission.
Last year we know there were several individuals and families who would go to the garden to work and to pray. Sometimes we knew who they were. Sometimes not. It seems this year the wider community is becoming very interested in our garden. So, Pennie and Garden Foreman Brendan Farnam are going out, two by two, to tell people about it. They’ve spoken with the Railroad Youth Project boards. As a result, they are sending some young artists to paint the garden in all seasons. Pennie and Brendan have also spoken with the Brookside School, a close neighbor to Gideon’s Garden, Brookside wants to start a garden of their own, and asked us for ideas. And they’ve talked with the People's Pantry board. Soon they will talk with the Breaking Bread Kitchen board, Women in Crisis in Pittsfield (WIC). They will also set up meetings with contacts in the Hispanic Community through Fairview Hospital and also the BRIDGE organization. Senior Citizen groups in Sheffield and Housatonic want to hear about the garden as well. So as you can see, people in the community are excited about our garden! I’d venture to say Gideon’s Garden is bringing healing, peace, and a sense of God’s Kingdom to many we’ll never even know about.
I hope you can see Gideon’s Garden is not about recruiting a lot of new children and families to come to Crissey Farm for worship. In a sense, Gideon’s Garden is a church in itself already. It’s a church without walls. It is a place where people come together in community and get in touch with the earth, each other, themselves, and God. . .for the sake of feeding the hungry.
(Sounds pretty much like a church to me.)
Now the garden even has—not a pew— but a meditation bench. Perhaps its icons are the amazing Scarecrows the children made last Thursday. The liturgy is literally the work of the people, young and old. The mission and offering is the bounty from God’s good earth. The Peace of the Lord is what prevails.
I hope you will all go there at least to visit (if not to get your hands dirty!). Take some time to sit on the bench, experience the hospitality, feel the peace, and say your prayers. I think you’ll find the Kingdom of God has come very near.
Now it would be great if we could just stay in the Garden or the Kingdom all the time, but Jesus knows we can’t, and I will speak about this briefly. Remember in today’s Gospel, when the disciples are not welcomed…When their peace and ministry are not well-received, and there’s no hospitality for them? Jesus tells them not to force themselves, God’s Peace, or their healing ministry on anyone. Instead, Jesus says, “Your peace will return to you… and you should shake the dust from that town from your sandals and move on.”
There is a message here for us about TOUGH LOVE. As Jesus’ disciples we are called to offer Peace, to do what we can to help someone or a situation be healed. It may be a person or situation in our personal lives, in our church, in our community, our nation, or the world. But it’s always a two-way street…The other person/entity must offer us hospitality, and must be willing to receive God’s peace and healing from us. Sometimes the people we most want to share God’s love with and the people we most want to get better and be healed, just cannot receive our ministry and love. It’s perplexing, heartbreaking, maddening to us…
Why won’t they take love and peace and healing?
For whatever reason, they just can’t (at least not at that time). Jesus makes it clear when this is the case, there comes a time when he expects us to let it go, to let our peace return to us, to quit agonizing and trying to make them change, and to shake their dust from our feet.
Jesus wants us to spend our time and energy and lives spreading the Kingdom where it can be received, where the ground’s fertile. I know it’s sometimes painfully hard to “shake dust”, but it’s what Jesus calls us to do. But we can take heart because even when we “shake dust”, Jesus says, “The Kingdom of God has come near.” Think about it…When we speak the truth in love, even if it’s not well received, it is heard, at some level. So we can let go with confidence that God’s Spirit will use what we’ve said and done in some way…Only God knows how or when. And so, even for the one who cannot yet receive, who cannot yet offer hospitality to God’s peace and healing, even for that one the Kingdom has come near, if we speak the truth in love.
Let us pray…
O God, keep sending us out two by two, speaking and doing your Truth in love. Give us hearts to offer your healing and peace. And when it’s there, as it is in Gideon’s Garden, help us see it and celebrate it, always thanking you for your grace and goodness. And when there’s no hospitality for your healing and peace, help us let go graciously, knowing your Kingdom is always there and your goodness is always at work. In Jesus holy name we pray, Amen.
Jesus sends out 70 disciples, Two by two to spread God’s peace to the towns and to cure the sick. Now when these disciples are welcomed and well-received, God’s peace is shared, hospitality is offered and gratefully received, and the sick are healed. When this happens, Jesus tells the disciples to say to the town, “The Kingdom of God is come nigh unto you.” (The King James Version we heard today). I love that phrase…“The Kingdom of God is come nigh unto you” or (the more familiar from the New Revised Standard Version) “The Kingdom of God has come near.” It’s almost like the Kingdom walks by and dusts us with the fragrant hem of its garment.
And aren’t there times in our lives when the Kingdom of God seems to “dust” us: When it has indeed come near to us, when we or someone else has been open and receptive to God’s deep peace and healing? The place where I am most aware of this right now at St. James is at Gideon’s Garden.
The Spirit nudged our young people to have a garden to feed the hungry. Parishioner Pennie Curry took the word out, and the wonderful people of Taft Farms offered gracious hospitality to help make it happen. And so young people from all over the area go out two by two by two to plant, tend, stake-up, and water.
Before we know it, the harvest is truly plentiful, and more laborers are always welcome and needed. And true to the kids’ original mission…HUNGRY PEOPLE ARE FED. The bountiful produce goes to the People’s Pantry, Breaking Bread Kitchen, the Stockbridge Open Table, and others in the community who need food. But I think what’s going on with these young people, and with all the other people who even hear about this garden—I think these people may be the REAL harvest!
The young people of St. James are involved. It’s their garden! And they also bring their friends. There’s also some youth from St. Paul’s Stockbridge, and several young people from the wider community. So Gideon’s Garden is a place, not unlike a traditional church, where a variety of people gather, who might not know or even like each other otherwise, but they learn to care for each other because they’re all Children of God. As with big people, sometimes this learning to care takes awhile…it isn’t easy. Boundaries must be set. But when it happens for them (as for us big people), true community is formed. There is healing, reconciliation, peace—the Kingdom of God has come near.
And the Kingdom is near as well when young people find their strengths, and learn how grounding and good it is to get their hands dirty in work that ultimately feeds hungry people. When this happens, again there is healing: Hungry people are literally nourished; and the children are nourished, and they grow at least as much as the plants! All this going out and nurturing and healing and growing and transforming and feeding is ultimately the work of God’s Spirit of Mission.
Last year we know there were several individuals and families who would go to the garden to work and to pray. Sometimes we knew who they were. Sometimes not. It seems this year the wider community is becoming very interested in our garden. So, Pennie and Garden Foreman Brendan Farnam are going out, two by two, to tell people about it. They’ve spoken with the Railroad Youth Project boards. As a result, they are sending some young artists to paint the garden in all seasons. Pennie and Brendan have also spoken with the Brookside School, a close neighbor to Gideon’s Garden, Brookside wants to start a garden of their own, and asked us for ideas. And they’ve talked with the People's Pantry board. Soon they will talk with the Breaking Bread Kitchen board, Women in Crisis in Pittsfield (WIC). They will also set up meetings with contacts in the Hispanic Community through Fairview Hospital and also the BRIDGE organization. Senior Citizen groups in Sheffield and Housatonic want to hear about the garden as well. So as you can see, people in the community are excited about our garden! I’d venture to say Gideon’s Garden is bringing healing, peace, and a sense of God’s Kingdom to many we’ll never even know about.
I hope you can see Gideon’s Garden is not about recruiting a lot of new children and families to come to Crissey Farm for worship. In a sense, Gideon’s Garden is a church in itself already. It’s a church without walls. It is a place where people come together in community and get in touch with the earth, each other, themselves, and God. . .for the sake of feeding the hungry.
(Sounds pretty much like a church to me.)
Now the garden even has—not a pew— but a meditation bench. Perhaps its icons are the amazing Scarecrows the children made last Thursday. The liturgy is literally the work of the people, young and old. The mission and offering is the bounty from God’s good earth. The Peace of the Lord is what prevails.
I hope you will all go there at least to visit (if not to get your hands dirty!). Take some time to sit on the bench, experience the hospitality, feel the peace, and say your prayers. I think you’ll find the Kingdom of God has come very near.
Now it would be great if we could just stay in the Garden or the Kingdom all the time, but Jesus knows we can’t, and I will speak about this briefly. Remember in today’s Gospel, when the disciples are not welcomed…When their peace and ministry are not well-received, and there’s no hospitality for them? Jesus tells them not to force themselves, God’s Peace, or their healing ministry on anyone. Instead, Jesus says, “Your peace will return to you… and you should shake the dust from that town from your sandals and move on.”
There is a message here for us about TOUGH LOVE. As Jesus’ disciples we are called to offer Peace, to do what we can to help someone or a situation be healed. It may be a person or situation in our personal lives, in our church, in our community, our nation, or the world. But it’s always a two-way street…The other person/entity must offer us hospitality, and must be willing to receive God’s peace and healing from us. Sometimes the people we most want to share God’s love with and the people we most want to get better and be healed, just cannot receive our ministry and love. It’s perplexing, heartbreaking, maddening to us…
Why won’t they take love and peace and healing?
For whatever reason, they just can’t (at least not at that time). Jesus makes it clear when this is the case, there comes a time when he expects us to let it go, to let our peace return to us, to quit agonizing and trying to make them change, and to shake their dust from our feet.
Jesus wants us to spend our time and energy and lives spreading the Kingdom where it can be received, where the ground’s fertile. I know it’s sometimes painfully hard to “shake dust”, but it’s what Jesus calls us to do. But we can take heart because even when we “shake dust”, Jesus says, “The Kingdom of God has come near.” Think about it…When we speak the truth in love, even if it’s not well received, it is heard, at some level. So we can let go with confidence that God’s Spirit will use what we’ve said and done in some way…Only God knows how or when. And so, even for the one who cannot yet receive, who cannot yet offer hospitality to God’s peace and healing, even for that one the Kingdom has come near, if we speak the truth in love.
Let us pray…
O God, keep sending us out two by two, speaking and doing your Truth in love. Give us hearts to offer your healing and peace. And when it’s there, as it is in Gideon’s Garden, help us see it and celebrate it, always thanking you for your grace and goodness. And when there’s no hospitality for your healing and peace, help us let go graciously, knowing your Kingdom is always there and your goodness is always at work. In Jesus holy name we pray, Amen.
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