January 31, 2010 - Epiphany IV - Skip Windsor

The Timeless Virtue

We gather this morning at this one service to worship together as a church community. Afterwards, we all are encouraged to attend the church annual meeting downstairs in Fellowship Hall. During the meeting, we will vote for new lay leadership, listen to reports from members of the staff and vestry, learn about new emerging ministries, and hear about the financial condition of the church.

This past year was a difficult one for everyone. Institutions failed. People lost their jobs. Families tightened their belts. Liquidity was scarce. For many, it is still difficult; and tough times lie ahead for many. The same is true for churches everywhere. Christ Church was not immune from these storms either. As you will read in the annual report, the vestry cut the budget by over 20%. Parishioners dug deeper into their pockets to ensure that vital ministries stayed in place. For this, we can be thankful. Because of your generosity and our expense cutting, we maintained a balanced budget and even carried a small surplus forward into this year.

We turned a corner in 2009. Average Sunday attendance is up 4% while the national church saw attendance decrease. Our average pledges have increased from approximately $1750 to $1850 matching the national church average. We are blessed to have scores of newcomers join our church community who are bringing diverse gifts and talents with them. Several new ministries are emerging at Christ Church such as The Party People and The Energy Efficiency Committee. Our affiliate, Circle of Hope, continues to make strategic partnerships with temples and churches in Needham and is adding an arm for kids that will draw in another generation to learn about social justice and outreach.

Good things are happening. God is taking us places we never thought we would go. Yet, with these important ministries occurring, we must ask ourselves where are we going as a church? What does 2011 look like for us? What about the next five years? Where will we be? Where do we want to be? In the strategic planning report handed to the vestry in April, there were provocative questions raised. In the heart of the report were these comments,

“As a parish we will need to decide as we go forward whether we are satisfied with the current reduced programming levels or whether we can devise a plan to “grow” our financial base in order to support our prior level of activities. possibility would be to increase non-financial participation in the church so that we could do more with less income.”

I do not think anyone here today would disagree with me that we want to grow as a church. The question becomes more of one about what kind of church we want to grow into? As I look around the diocese, I see 188 churches seeking to discern their mission in a rapidly changing culture and society. No longer will new wine fit into old wineskins.

The tectonic plates of the world are changing everyday. The language we speak. The communications we use. The people we meet. The climate we experience. The institutions we count on. All is dynamic. We must define our mission if we are to grow and flourish in a rapidly changing world. Being clear about our mission will determine what kind of church we will become in the next five years.

We do not have to create a mission. There is no need. We have one given to us. According to the Gospel of Matthew, Christ gave it to His disciples as His last command. It is called The Great Commission,

“And Jesus came and spoke to them, ‘All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you.’”

Go. Make disciples. Baptize men and women in the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. I believe at Christ Church we do go out in the world to do ministry: in Needham, Boston and the wider world. I believe we do make disciples by inviting people to join our church and become part of the community. I believe that we do baptize bringing young children and adults into the Household of God.

But, to carry out the Great Commission is not simple. Not today. There are obstacles along the way as we seek to serve Christ loving our neighbor as ourselves. And the one I wish to highlight this morning is a rising factionalism and partisanship in the wider church and in the public square. I would call it the “New Tribalism.”

The tribalism of community I am talking about is analogous to our North American Indian tribes, who manifest a certain culture, and ethos based upon a common, shared, and collective memory. Such collective memory formed around the narratives and stories of a people gives the tribe, and each member of the tribe, a sense of identity, as well as, provides a context for making meaning about their lives and their shared destiny.

Tribalism still exists today. You and I are from tribes. Whether we call it the Windsor, Baker, or Jensen tribe, or the Needham, Westwood or Newton tribe, or the Episcopalian, Congregational or Unitarian tribe, or the Democratic or Republican tribe, or, yes, even the Red Sox or Yankee tribe, in some way we come from a tribe and more than one tribe. Shared language, common memory, and an understood sense of values forms the basis of tribalism. Tribalism defines and differentiates us from others and helps us to know who we are.

The New Testament tells us that Jesus was descended from one of the twelve tribes of Israel. Jesus was a Jew, and more specifically, was a Nazarene Jew. In today’s Gospel lesson from Luke, we hear about Jesus’ rejection by his hometown people. His tribe rejects him. The late comedian, Rodney Dangerfield’s signature remark, “I get no respect,” would be one way to sum up today’s Gospel lesson.

Jesus came from Nazareth. It was his father, Joseph’s hometown. In today’s reading from Luke, Jesus is recognized as one their own. A local boy who was a skilled carpenter who later took over his father’s business after Joseph died. So when the local boy comes back to teach instead of to carve, the people become intrigued even complimenting him saying, “Isn’t this Joseph’s son who is doing remarkable things in Capernaum? He’s come home to do those same amazing feats here with us in Nazareth!”

Their acceptance quickly turns to anger and unrest when Jesus announces to them that no prophet is accepted in the prophet’s hometown. And adds a truth about what ultimately is at stake when he speaks to his townspeople: He recalls two examples in Israel’s history that hearken back to the earlier prophets – Elijah and Elisha – who reached beyond the people of Israel to welcome those who were most representative of the marginalized “Gentiles” or non-Jews. Elijah went to the unnamed widow in Sidon and Elisha healed the Syrian leper known as Naaman. The widow, in spite of famine and poverty did not give up on God or the words of the prophet Elijah. Naaman, who at first was reluctant to follow the words of the prophet Elisha, washed himself seven times in the Jordan and was healed of his leprosy. Both the widow of Sidon and the Syrian Naaman represented the “extreme other” to those in the synagogue crowd. Jesus used these two examples to drive home the point that the Good News of God in Christ was intended for all tribes – Jew and Gentile alike.

The life of Jesus was devoid of personal factionalism. It is true he was an observant Jew and identified himself as a rabbi. Yet His arguments and preaching were always against the Jewish and Roman authorities that sought to divide communities: poor from rich, Jew from Gentile, women from men. He opposed those in authority because of their narrow-minded self-interests. What Jesus was calling people to was a higher unifying loyalty that transcended all tribal and partisan loyalties: Loyalty to God.

Through his life, death and resurrection, Jesus shows how God is with us in the world. When we see how Jesus forgave sinners, invited the despised, healed the sick, spoke to the doubtful, and prayed to God, we apprehend not an idea but a real person who sought to reconcile all people together in their common humanity under the banner of love.

In the Epistle lesson we heard today from Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians, the familiar words take on a familiar resonance. We hear it read at weddings. But, a deeper reading leads us to note that Paul is making a diatribe against the cliques and factions that fought for turf in the Corinthian church. He presents the ideal virtue of a Christian community: Love. While some church factions valorized spiritual knowledge and prophecy, Paul says that even these gifts will pass away but love, love will abide. It defined the ideal of the Church. It defined the life in the Kingdom of God.

Inspired by the words of Paul, The words by the Spanish mystic, St. John of the Cross-comes to mind, “In the twilight of our lives, we will be judged on how we have loved.”

Jesus’ call remains as fervent and persistent now as it did in his own day. You and I are called to a universal discipleship where compassion eclipses tribalism. This discipleship leads us to act on our faith in love and in action. Being disciples of God does not make us refugees from the issues of the day. Rather, it makes us go deeper into the injustices, the prejudices, and the problems of our time.

In the end, because of the world’s great needs, there is more that unites us than divides us. In Christ, we are called to be the Beloved Community of God. Each of us together forms the Body of Christ and “Who is our neighbor?” extends as far as our love.

The concreteness of this virtue of love I find most exquisitely in the Holy Eucharist. Through God’s sacrificial love in Jesus Christ, we become the Body of Christ. But, at Christ Church, I find the symbol of Christian love in another place, too, in this sanctuary.

There is never a moment before I leave this sanctuary when I don’t stop to gaze upon this majestic glass cross before us. It is truly unique and brightly beautiful. When the morning sun comes through the glass the colors of the cross seem to dance across the floor. I find it very comforting, inspiring and reassuring in times of concern or worry.

But there are other times, more times these days than most, when I see the cross as a prod. Prodding you and me forth fulfilling Great Commission to go. “Go. Go out from this place. Make disciples. Put my love into action and equip the saints for the work of ministry.”

My hope for us as we look ahead this year is that we may we never lose sight of the Cross and may we always give ourselves over to love.

Let us pray:

O God of unchangeable power and grace, give us the vision to see you and to serve you with Christ-like love. We do not know what a new day will bring but let us be ready in body, mind and spirit to heed your call. Let us go forth from this your church renewed and restored for the work of ministry. All this we ask in the name of your Son, Jesus Christ, our Lord. Amen.

January 17, 2010 - Epiphany II - Peter Tierney

Poured out for Haiti
Psalm 36:5-10; John 2:1-11

“How priceless is your love, O God! Your people take refuge under the shadow of your wings.”

Last week, I announced that I would be preaching about spiritual gifts today, but some things have happened between last Sunday and this morning, and God sometimes has a way of telling us that we need to change our plans, no matter how well thought out. One of the ways that God uses to get our attention is when we encounter the same person, or idea, or thing multiple times in a short period, seemingly coincidentally—and that is what happened to me while planning for this sermon. I had looked at the readings for last week and this week some time ago, and decided that I would preach two sermons on the Holy Spirit, so I wasn’t planning to talk about today’s Gospel reading at all. Now, Pam and I sat down to plan the music for this service a few weeks ago, and it was Pam’s idea to use the music in our hymnal with Jewish roots for nearly all the hymns in this service, in honor of the wedding at Cana, which was of course a Jewish wedding. When I told Pam earlier this week that I wasn’t preaching about the wedding at Cana, she looked a little disappointed—that was sign number one. A day or two later, I happened to be reading a book, and the author referenced the story of Jesus changing water into wine—sign number two.

On Tuesday night, we received the word about the earthquake in Haiti. By Wednesday morning, reports of the full extent of the destruction had begun to reach us, and we heard directly from Fr. Kesner Ajax, who visited us here at Christ Church two years ago. It was when Fr. Kesner reported that the Episcopal Cathedral in Port-au-Prince had been reduced to rubble that I knew for sure that a sermon on spiritual gifts would have to wait. Because, you see, the walls of the sanctuary of Holy Trinity cathedral in Port-au-Prince were painted with the most amazing, brilliantly colored murals of biblical scenes, but these biblical stories were painted in a distinctly Haitian style, with Haitian people and with elements of Haitian culture—clothing, tools, customs—woven seamlessly into the paintings as a way of saying that the biblical world and the Haitian world are one: the days of Jesus are today, just as real for Haiti as they are for ancient Israel. These murals were national treasures—exquisite examples of Haitian religious art. I was in that Cathedral, looking at those murals just this past September, on our mission team’s first day in Haiti—a Sunday—and for me, the most beautiful and powerful and moving of those paintings was the mural depicting today’s Gospel story—Jesus’ miracle at the Wedding in Cana of Galilee. When I heard that the Cathedral had been destroyed in the earthquake, and I realized that no one else would ever see that mural of the Wedding at Cana, I knew that God wanted something different from me in this sermon than what I had planned.

The Russian author Dostoevsky wrote of Jesus’ miracle at the wedding of Cana that “It was not people’s grief, but their joy Christ visited. He worked his first miracle to help human gladness.” By sustaining the wine at the wedding, Jesus allowed the celebration to continue when it might have been cut short for lack of the cup of gladness. But isn’t this a strange and alien story for us to hear today, of all days, when the suffering of Haiti lies heavy on our hearts? Do we not need Jesus to visit our grief now and the grief of an entire nation? What is there to celebrate, when destruction has erased the Wedding of Cana from the walls of Holy Trinity Cathedral? What need is there for wine, when the people of Haiti are desperate for the water that Jesus started out with? Our hearts cry out: “Turn it back, O Lord, and give them the water to drink!”

The joy of the wedding feast does not fit our mood or our circumstances, and it might be completely out of place, if it were not for the ambivalence that marks Jesus’ mood in this Gospel. Jesus is reluctant to work this miracle, he is not ready to give the sign—when his mother tells him that the party has run out of wine, he says to her, “Woman, what concern is that to you and to me? My hour has not yet come.” Jesus knows that as soon as he gives this sign, as soon as he does this wondrous thing, his feet are set on a path that will lead him to his hour. That hour is the hour of the Cross, the hour of his death. The road that begins in Cana of Galilee is the road that ends at Golgotha—the wine that Jesus gives to the wedding feast is forever linked to the wine poured out from his body when the spear pierces his heart: “This is my blood of the New Covenant, which is shed for you and for many for the forgiveness of sins.” Even in the joyous celebration of the wedding feast, there is a whiff of desolation. Our lives are rarely marked by a pure and unadulterated joy—they are a mixture of celebration and sadness.

But the reverse is also true, that joy and hope can linger and remain and grow, even in the most desolate and seemingly desperate times. When Jesus is hanging on the Cross, the life nearly gone from him, sensing that he has been abandoned by the God he has called Father all his life, he cries out, “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” It is a cry that we can imagine echoing through the streets of Port-au-Prince today. But on Jesus’ lips, this cry is more than a sign of desolation—it is a quotation from the 22nd psalm, the first line of that most piteous and heartbreaking of the songs of Israel. The psalm goes on, “Why are you so far from my cry and from the words of my distress? Oh my God, I cry in the daytime, but you do not answer; by night as well, but I find no rest.” That is how the 22nd psalm begins, but I want you to hear how it ends, because the rest of the psalm could not have been far from Jesus’ mind. After rehearsing many unanswered pleas for God to save, the psalm takes a turn, declaring faith in God despite the certainty of death for the sake of the future. The final verses of the psalm end, “My soul shall live for God; my descendants shall serve him; they shall be known as the Lord’s for ever. They shall come and make known to a people yet unborn the saving deeds that he has done.” On Jesus’ lips, the desolate cry of the 22nd psalm is a statement of faith and hope, a cry from the heart that although God may not spare us from the time of trial, there is a future for the peaceable kingdom, there is a hope for generations yet unborn.

The God we worship is not a remote and distant God, sitting in the heavens passing judgment from afar. The God we worship, the God we remember today in our holy meal of bread and wine, is the crucified God, the God who has taken the pain and suffering of the world onto himself, and poured out his blood for our sake. The God we worship today is the risen Lord, the God who overcomes Death. Our God encompasses all things, from the joy of the Wedding feast to the suffering of the Cross to the triumph of the Resurrection. Our human lives are a mixture of these things—joy and suffering, desolation and consolation, and the lives of the people of Haiti are the same, even today. They are lives of faith and hope, even today.

You do not need to believe my word alone about this--I want to share you testimony from Haiti. These words are taken from an e-mail sent to us by Suzi Parker, a Presbyterian missionary who with her husband John is running the guesthouse in Leogane that Christ church’s team stays at when we are going to Lazile. That guesthouse was seriously damaged in the earthquake—John and Suzi’s apartment was destroyed. Suzi writes, “At night we sleep in the yard behind the hospital where the bandstand was. It has fallen, as has the Episcopal school. There are two to three hundred people who sleep in that field at night. They sing hymns until almost midnight, and we wake up to a church service, with hymns, a morning prayer, and the apostles’ creed. The evening sky is glorious. In the field, there is a real sense of community. I have never understood joy in the midst of suffering, but now I do. The caring I have seen, the help we have received from the Haitians, the evening songs and prayers are wonderful. The people will survive, though many will die. Please pray for us. And pray that we and the hospital can be of help to the people here.”

The psalmist says that in God is the well of life, and in God’s light we see light. But sometimes we do not see the light, sometimes all we can see are the shadows and darkness, and we have only the memory of what it is to see God’s light. Sometimes God hides. And in those times, having faith and hope means trusting that the shadows falling on us are the shadow of God’s wings covering us to protect us from a greater darkness, for there is no shadow without a light somewhere to cast it. I pray that this is so for the people of Haiti and for the people who are traveling to aid them—people of great faith and hope. “How priceless is your love, O God! Your people take refuge under the shadow of your wings. Continue your loving-kindness to those who know you, and your favor to those who are true of heart.” Amen.

January 10, 2010 - Epiphany I - Peter Tierney

Burning with the Holy Spirit
Isaiah 43:1-7; Acts 8:14-17; Luke 3:15-17, 21-22

"John answered all of them by saying, 'I baptize you with water; but one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.'"

Here, in the words of John the Baptist, we are first introduced to the difference between the baptism that John administered and the baptism that Jesus administers: the baptism of John is a baptism with water, but the baptism of Jesus—the baptism of the Christian Church—is baptism with the Holy Spirit and with fire. Now it is true that Jesus honors the baptism of John by being baptized himself with water by John’s hands, and also by making baptism with water the sign and means of Christian baptism, but make no mistake—even though Christians are baptized with water, the essential part of Christian baptism is the gift of the Holy Spirit. Jesus himself emphasizes the importance of being filled with the Holy Spirit when he teaches, “Very truly, I tell you, no one can enter the kingdom of God without being born of water and Spirit.”

In the book of Acts, once the apostles hear that the new converts in Samaria have not received the Holy Spirit, even though they have been baptized, they send Peter and John to pray for them and lay hands on them so that they will receive the Spirit. The conversion of the Samaritans is not complete without the presence of the Holy Spirit with them, and the author of Acts suggests that the reason the Samaritans had not received the Spirit was because “they had only been baptized in name of the Lord Jesus.” The connection between Christian baptism and the gift of the Holy Spirit is so strong that even though baptism in the name of Jesus alone was permissible in the very earliest days, it came to be seen as deficient, and the practice of baptizing in the threefold name of Father, Son, and Holy Spirit became the universal practice of the Christian Church.

So, all of that tells us that Jesus and the followers of Jesus baptize with the Holy Spirit, or call upon the Holy Spirit to complete the action begun in baptism, and it also tells us that Christians should value the presence of the Holy Spirit, but it doesn’t do much to tell us why the Holy Spirit is so important. What’s so great about the Holy Spirit anyway? What has the Holy Spirit done for us lately? I am convinced that one important clue that points us toward the answers to these questions lies in the other thing that John tells us Jesus will baptize with. Jesus baptizes, not only with the Holy Spirit—but with fire!

What does it mean to baptize with fire? Fire is not an element in Christian baptism—we don’t light babies on fire before dipping them in the font. You may have heard the expression “baptism by fire” used to describe the circumstances when someone is thrown into a particularly difficult situation that becomes an extreme test of their abilities. This idea of a trial by fire is one of the most frequent ways that fire is mentioned in the New Testament. Fire as a means of testing the purity of metals, fire that cleanses and cauterizes and purifies, fire that judges whether something is durable and will endure—that is how the New Testament speaks of fire.

Fire is also closely linked with the Holy Spirit and with the presence of God. In the Old Testament, God leads the people of Israel out of Egypt and through the desert in a pillar of fire by night, and when they reach Mount Sinai, “the glory of the Lord was like a devouring fire on the top of the mountain in the sight of the people of Israel,” and it was out of this fire that God spoke the Ten Commandments to Israel. Again, in the Acts of the Apostles, it is no coincidence that when the Holy Spirit descends upon the apostles at Pentecost, it appears in the form of tongues of fire. Fire is a sign and a symbol of God’s presence—which is one reason why we keep a flame constantly burning in our sanctuaries.

So we have these two aspects of fire connected to each other: fire as a sign of God’s presence, and fire that tests the mettle of what it surrounds. The Holy Spirit is a fire that both tests and purifies the people that it falls upon. The Spirit is the spirit of truth, and so it tests and divides truth from falsehood; the Spirit is the spirit of righteousness, and so it tests our actions, revealing what is good and what is wicked in the things we do and empowering us to do the good. Above all, the Spirit is the spirit of love, that burning fire of love that draws us together and tests our bonds to God and to each other, refining those relationships to make them even more truly beautiful and pure reflections of God’s own infinite beauty. The love of God has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.

Elsewhere in his Gospel, Luke records a somewhat cryptic sentence spoken by Jesus, “I came to bring fire to the earth, and how I wish it were already kindled!” The fire that Jesus is speaking of is this fire of the Holy Spirit, a fire that is meant to burn in the hearts of his disciples, a fire that will rage throughout the ages and test the world that God has made, burning away what is false, and wicked, and against God’s will for the world that he made in love. This is a fearsome fire, an awesome and terrible and relentless fire, a fire that Jesus means to share with those who will take up their cross and follow him. Jesus came to set each and every one of us on fire—he wants you to burn with the Spirit of God. There is an urgency and a great power in God’s mission, it is the same urgency that fire has as it latches onto anything that will burn and keep the fire going. This mission, the mission that Jesus shared with his disciples is the mission to love God and our neighbor truly, it is the mission to share the good news of God’s forgiveness in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, and this mission that is powered by the burning flame of the Holy Spirit, which is given to us in baptism.

God wants us to burn with this mission; Jesus wants to set us on fire for God’s mission, the Holy Spirit has been sent to reach into us and draw forth our greatest energies and efforts to further God’s work in the world, to light a fire in us that will shine out and proclaim that God is here! God is here in us and between us and around us!

Next week, I will be preaching about some of the specific ways that the Holy Spirit acts in the Church to further God’s mission by granting spiritual gifts to disciples of Jesus, but for now, I want to leave you with one last observation—this time an important difference between fire and the Holy Spirit. Fire, as we know it, consumes the fuel that keeps it burning, until nothing is left. The Holy Spirit is not that kind of a fire—it does not rely on the power and the energy that is within us, but rather unlocks the depths of our energy, focuses it and sets it free. It is not so with other kinds of spirits—we can all think of examples of people who, caught up in a passionate spirit for human endeavors, end up consumed by that Spirit. Think of athletes who focus so much on sport that they destroy their bodies or lose their love for the game, or neglect their other commitments and relationships. Think of politicians who enter public life with the best of intentions, but succumb to the lure of power and influence. Think of financiers and investors who start who start off in business to make a living, but the pressure and the desire to make more and more money takes over and overrides their judgment and their sense of right and wrong. Think of religious zealots, who begin by following the leadings of the Spirit, but come to confuse their own thoughts and prejudices with the mind of God. In all of these cases, people are consumed by the fires of their own passions—but it will not be so if we are burning with the true Holy Spirit of God. Jesus wants us to burn, but he does not want us to burn out. When we are filled with the Holy Spirit and acting in accordance with God’s will, the work may be strenuous and difficult, but it will not be draining and tiresome, it will not burn us out.

God promises that when his people walk through the fire, they shall not be burnt, and the flame will not consume them. This is a promise that extends to the fire of the Holy Spirit as well. The image to remember is the image of God speaking out of the burning bush to Moses—what astonished Moses and got his attention was that the bush was not consumed by the flames. So it will be with us, if we have received the Holy Spirit of God—we will burn with a shining light that does not consume us, and God will speak out from us—perhaps in words, but also in our deeds. And in the power of the Spirit, we will find that God has given us the most rewarding work and the most blessed gift we will ever know.

December 25, 2009 - Christmas Day - Peter Tierney

Christ our Freedom is God’s Christmas Promise
Luke 2:1-20

2010 will be a census year for us, with all the multitudes of the United States counted. The registration that caused Joseph and Mary to travel to Bethlehem was another kind of census, but while our census serves an important purpose in the life of our nation and our government, I can assure you that Caesar’s census had nothing to do with determining proportional representation in the Roman Empire. No—the Emperor’s purposes for counting the people in the empire likely had more to do with questions like “How many people do I rule over?” “Where do most of them live, and are they being taxed accordingly?” “From where can I raise more legions, and where do I need to send the legions that I have recruited?” Caesar’s census was about control, about measuring power and the means to maintain power. To the mighty Roman Emperor, the little child born in Bethlehem was just another statistic, another jot on the tally sheet of subjects dominated by the power of Rome. There are nations today where census taking is more akin to the Roman census than it is to the U.S. census, where people are counted in order to be controlled. The world Jesus was born into was a dangerous place, and our world can still be dangerous—the boots of tramping warriors and the rods of oppressors have not passed away from the world, and the yoke of oppression still lies heavy on the shoulders of many people. The world of Jesus’ day needed a savior, and our day too looks for this salvation.

God has promised, in the words of the prophet Isaiah, that all oppression will be cast off, that the rods of unjust rulers will be broken, that people who live in darkness will see a great light. God promises that a savior has been sent. But God’s answer to the Caesars of the world is not the answer the world expected in Jesus’ day, and I daresay it is not the answer you and I would come up with if left to our own devices. Against the legions of Caesar, against tyrants of every age, God sends—not a strong and sturdy warrior, not a second Samson—but an infant, born in a stable. God’s answer to all the abuses of power in the world is a newborn infant, wrapped in bands of cloth, crying for his first meal at his mother’s breast.

It makes no sense to the human mind, and Jesus’ birth passed almost without notice in his own day—on that first Christmas, the Emperor Augustus was not quaking in fear that his empire would crumble and fall because of this baby. But God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength. Before the yoke of rulers and injustice can be broken, there is another enemy to be confronted, another form of oppression to be cast off—and that is the enemy within, the disorder of our desires; the passions that cause us to seek our own advantage over the needs of others, the selfish and self-centred impulses that we all feel and struggle against. The first enemy that Jesus comes to overthrow is the enemy that God and the Church have named sin—the tyrant of our hearts that seeks to rule over us and bend our will away from godliness and upright living, the enemy that encourages laziness when we can get away with it, undue pride in our accomplishments, anger against our neighbors, and envy of others’ good fortune.

Against the oppression of sin, the infant Jesus is the perfect conqueror, for what is more likely to inspire us to want to live a better life than a newborn child, with all the potential and promise of a new life? What parent doesn’t want to be a better person for the sake of her child? We may not always be able to live up to those noble aspirations, and children can be an aggravation as well as an inspiration, but the newborn Christ-child embodies the hope for new life in all of us. In the baby Jesus of the Christmas crib, the grace of God has appeared; and when Christ is born in our hearts, he inspires us to live lives that are upright and self-controlled, concerned with others needs and God’s desires before our own.

Once Christ has won the victory over sin—our spiritual oppression—the victory over tyranny and worldly oppression cannot be far behind, because the one relies on the other. Tyranny and corruption cannot last in the face of honesty and righteousness, the unjust ruler always relies on the self-interest of allies and subordinates. If someone can’t be bought or bribed or rewarded for loyalty, then the only tools that remain for the tyrant are threats and violence. But Jesus has overcome that power as well—not only as a child, but as a man. We have gathered here not only to celebrate Christmas, but to share the Easter meal—our holy communion—in which we remember that Jesus died for us and rose again to live forever and to share his eternal life with those who believe in him. And if we have been given the gift of Jesus’ life, then death can have no hold over us, unless we allow it. And if the followers of Jesus do not fear death, then what power do the tyrants of the world have anymore? Their rod has been broken, their oppression is lifted, because it is an illusion and a fantasy compared to the love and mercy of God. The world remains a dangerous place, but no matter what happens to us in this life, we have the confidence of new and greater life in Christ’s gifts of grace and love.

For the sake of one innocent life, God has redeemed the world. Jesus Christ, born today, is the victory over the enemy of our souls and the enemy of our bodies, he has overcome both sin and death, and he will share his victory with us if we trust in him and follow him as our lord and our God. God has kept his promise, he has sent us a savior: Christ the Lord. So come and worship, come and worship, worship Christ our newborn King!

December 24, 2009 - Christmas Eve - Skip Windsor

Luke 2:1-20

In the Shadow of the Manger

Every year at Christmas, we hear the story of Jesus’ birth according to the Gospel of Luke. As an historian Luke is very careful to place the Nativity of our Lord within the context of world history. We hear about the rulers of the time and the evangelist is explicit in making the point that the birth of one small child in Bethlehem occurs in the midst of timeless turmoil – war and rumors of war, economic disparity, and persecution and oppression.

It is in this historical context that Luke writes the immortal words of hope: “Today a Savior has been born! He is Christ the Lord” (2:11). Our Christian faith tells us that God came into the world in an unexpected way – God did not come into the world as a prince but as a pauper. God did not come into the world as a powerful warrior but as a vulnerable baby. God did not come into the world to be the leader of the principalities and powers but to save and rescue the world from sin and death. God came to be with you and me.

The 20th century poet, Robinson Jeffers, writes:

For an hour on Christmas Eve
And again on the holy day,
Seek the magic of past time,
From this present turn away.
Dark though our day,
Light lies the snow on hawthorn hedges
And the ox knelt down at midnight…

Caesar and Herod shared the world
Sorrow over Bethlehem lay,
Iron the empire, brutal the time
Dark was that first Christmas Day,
Light lay the snow on the mistletoe berries
And the ox knelt down at midnight.

Each and every Christmas, we hear Luke’s story and again are reminded that the Creator God condescended to take on human form and came into the world as a homeless child. When we sing the familiar words of the carol, “Away in the manger,” we sing sweetly the words, “Away in a manger no crib for his bed, the little Lord Jesus, laid down his sweet head.” Yet, behind the words and behind the holiday sentiment stirs an enduring reality that God came to be identified not with Augustus Caesar but with the lost and homesick, the homeless and the exile.

The mystery of Christmas is about the majesty of God who loves us so much that God became one of us in Jesus; and the simplest way for me to understand this mystery is to share a story with you.

Once upon a Christmas Eve, a man sat in reflective silence before the fireplace, pondering the meaning of Christmas. “There is no point to God who becomes man,” he mused. “Why would an all-powerful God want to share even one of His precious moments with the likes of humanity? And even if he did, why would he choose to be born in an animal stall? No way! The whole idea is absurd! I’m sure that if God really wanted to come down to earth, He would have chosen some other way.”

Suddenly, the man was roused from his ruminations by a strange sound outside. He went to the window and saw a small gaggle of Canadian geese frantically honking and aimlessly flopping about in the snow. They seemed disoriented and dazed. Apparently, they had dropped out of exhaustion from the flight formation of a larger flock on its way from north of Newfoundland to the warmer climes of the Gulf of Mexico.

Moved with compassion, the man tried to shoo the poor geese into his warm garage; but the more he shooed the more they panicked. “If they only realized I’m only trying to do what’s best for them,” he thought to himself. “How can I make them understand my concern for their well-being?” Then, this thought came to him: “If for just one minute, I could become one of them, an ordinary goose, and communicate with them in their own language, they would know what I’m trying to do.”

And suddenly, he remembered Christmas and a smile came over his face. Suddenly, the Christmas story no longer seemed absurd. Suddenly, he pictured that ordinary-looking infant, lying in a manger, in the stable in Bethlehem, and he knew the answer to his Christmas question: God had become one of us to tell us He loves us and to point us home.

As I have reflected upon this story, the more I think it is a parable of Christmas.

Like the birds that have flown south for the winter, we tend to migrate to those places where we will find warmth and comfort, healing and hope. Like them, we seek a resting place of peace. Like them we are also frozen with fright by the events that assail us. And like them, we have a yearning for home.

At such times, when we, like the birds of the air, seek to fly yearning to be free, it is God who also yearns – yearns to be with us and share in His creation. The wonder of Christmas, the mystery of Christmas, is that God left heaven to be with us.

So God came down from heaven to Bethlehem to be born in a manger with the ox and the ass, the shepherds and the sheep, to be with us. A Merry Christmas, a happy life, and good fortune are not why God comes to be with us. God loves us more than this.

God says, “I do not wish to take away people’s desires or even their emptiness. Rather, I wish to share their desires and their emptiness by being by their side. I want to fly with my flock, to help them seek what they mostly deeply need.

“I want to help their yearning to reach into the farthest corners of heaven and to help them find part of heaven that is already within themselves. I desire to embrace with my wings all the ill-winds of death, all the winds of doubt and despair that buffet them; and I will transform them into currents of love.”

This Christmas Eve, we join hands and hearts around the manger of Jesus. The light from the manger gives sight to the world. It is a place that holds not only a little baby but cradles the whole world. The real manger on this Christmas Eve is the human heart. That is where the Christ of Christmas is born and known to be real and true.

For the enduring invitation of Christmas for us is how we will cast the shadow of the manger everyday. Its outline is traced by the way we live our lives with generosity and compassion not only at Christmas but everyday of the year. As it is written in the Letter of Titus, “We are a people who are zealous for good deeds.”

Shortly, we will depart from this place. We will go with family and friends out into the night. We will return to our homes filled with bright lights and trees, good food and presents. Let us take with us the meaning of this night. Let always keep Christmas in our hearts.

The life we live is in God. The life we praise is to Jesus – just as the words from the Christmas carol, O Holy Night, remind us:

Truly He taught us to love one another,
His law is love and His gospel is peace.
Chains he shall break, for the slave our brother.
And in His name all oppression shall cease.
Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,
With all our hearts we praise his holy name.
Christ is the Lord! Then ever, ever praise we,
His power and glory ever more proclaim!
His power and glory ever more proclaim!

Let us pray:

God of light who breaks into the darkness of the world each day, break into our hearts anew. As we learn to live in your light, help us to serve you in holiness and righteousness. Guide us in the way of peace. All this we ask in the name of Christ, the light that we pray.

Amen.

November 15, 2009 - The 24th Sunday after Pentecost - Skip Windsor

(This sermon was preached at the Cathedral Church of St. Paul in Boston, Massachusetts.)

Proper 28-B, Mark 13:1-8

A New Hope

Let us pray: Be with us, O God, and give us the Spirit of Christ. Amen.

I bring you greetings from the people of Christ Church in Needham. I also want to thank your canon pastor, Steve, for his hospitality and my gratitude to your Dean, Jep, for suggesting the idea of making this pulpit exchange between us last summer. Our two communities share in the vibrant and important Monday Lunch Program when people from Needham come the second Monday of the month to work with members of the Cathedral and to serve a healthy lunch to the men and women who come off the streets for a meal every week.

It is a pleasure to return to the Cathedral where I began my ordained ministry here over twenty years ago as the Cox Fellow. My wife, Kathy, and I have very fond memories of our time here being supported by wonderful people such as Gloria Watt and Dorothy Dottin, as well as, those who have gone before us and abide in the nearer presence of God: People such as Rose Burke, Pearl Blackman, Blossom Frederick and Jeanne Sprout.

As I look around today, I can remember back to important moments in our ministry together: Ordinations, Episcopal elections, baptisms, marriages, and funerals. But, with the passing of the years, I see many changes in the Cathedral congregation and in the Cathedral itself. One of those changes, I have appreciated is the addition of the Labyrinth in the floor of Sprout Hall.

From time to time, when I’ve come to a Monday Lunch program or have attended a meeting in Sprout Hall, I am always aware of the Labyrinth and what it represents about the pilgrim’s journey towards God. I have had the privilege of seeing the real one at Chartres Cathedral in France. It is approximately forty-two feet in diameter, inlaid in the stone floor. The most majestic stained glass windows in the world surround it. Blues. Greens. Yellows. The light seems to dance off the floors.

Like downstairs, the original Labyrinth is normally covered with chairs for worship services. On occasion, the sextons of Chartres will move the chairs for a couple of days so that visitors can walk the Labyrinth finding a serenity and peace given to thousands of men and women over the centuries. I remember vividly several decades ago when I traveled from Paris to Chartres and saw the majestic Cathedral for the first time. It stands strikingly above everything else on a hillside among miles of wheat fields. Only when a traveler gets closer does one know there is a whole city that surrounds it.

Seeing Chartres Cathedral for the first time has always reminded me of those early pilgrims who saw the ancient Temple in Jerusalem for the first time singing those familiar words from Psalm 121,

I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills ---
From whence cometh my help?
My help cometh even from the Lord,
Who hath made heaven and earth.

I think every Cathedral such as St. Paul’s or Chartres is a reminder of the Temple of Jerusalem where people would make their pilgrimage to their “Mother Church.” I know that many Anglicans who have come from the islands of the Caribbean and West Indies over the decades have made St. Paul’s their home because it is the mother church of the diocese. Many of us around the diocese would consider St. Paul’s our Cathedral; and, I suspect that the early pilgrims of Jesus’ time would consider the Temple their temple.

The gospel lesson today from Mark is instructive about the true nature of cathedrals, churches and communities. The evangelist recounts how Jesus and four of his disciples – Peter and Andrew and James and John – leaving the temple precincts and going across to the Mount of Olives gives them a panoramic view to see the full measure of King Herod’s power and wealth. As the disciples look with awe at its sheer majesty, Jesus remembers all of them had just come from inside the Temple and had witnessed a poor widow drop all she owned into the treasury. What is to be more important: buildings or people? This question is one of the underlying themes of today’s gospel text.

“Wow!” “What a building!” “ Just look at the size of those stones!” They exclaim. Perhaps, they were seeing the beautiful buildings of the Temple for the first time just like my first visit to Chartres or someone’s first visit to Washington, D.C. or New York City. And then Jesus pours cold water on their enthusiasm predicting, “Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.” If ever there were a double take in scripture this would be one of those moments. Did they hear what they thought they heard? Say again?

The disciples ask Jesus when it will happen; and he tells them all these stones will fall but to know the time and hour when they fall is unknown. Not much later, those stones did fall. The Romans destroyed the marvelous Temple in 70 AD tearing it down stone by stone, rock by rock, until there was nothing left. Seeing the Temple leveled must have seemed like the end of the world to the people of Jerusalem. For them, the Temple symbolized the presence of God. And now their Temple was destroyed and it seemed to them that God was gone from their sight.

But, God did not abandon them. While the greed of the Temple treasurers was destroyed and the idolatry of Herod was decimated, there came up from the smoke and ashes, debris and detritus, a new hope to claim the hearts of faithful people. The destruction of the Temple was a signal that the place where people and God met had shifted from a place to a person. Sitting on the Mount of Olives with Jesus that day, the four apostles would later come to know that the temple of God was not made of stones on the temple mount but right in front of them, close as a heartbeat, in the person of Jesus.

Jesus was the new temple; and if it was true then, it is true now. In Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians, the apostle writes that the Spirit of God dwells within us. So many times when people think of a cathedral or a church they think of a building.

In Needham, people will ask me, “Where is your church?” And, I will automatically, but incorrectly say, “At the corner of Rosemary Street and Highland Avenue.” What I should say is that the church is the people, the Laos, who are the true stones that make up Christ Church. The spirit dwells within the people of churches and cathedrals. No matter how beautiful a building, the Spirit rests upon its people.

I love to tell the story of the time when I was the Cox Fellow here at the Cathedral. As you know better than any congregation, you host most of the diocesan services and that some of these services are filled with pageantry and beauty. The music soars. The choir is angelic. The readers are eloquent. And the clergy are wearing their most resplendent vestments. One time we had such a service. It was simply stated -- a magnificent service. The bishops in their mitres, the Cathedral clergy in their purple cassocks, and the deacons and sub-deacons looking like angels it looked like we just came out of central casting. After the service, I asked Mazie Graham what she thought of the service; and I never forgot what Mazie said. She said, “Skip, remember this. You clergy may look like the flowers but we laity are the roots.”

My brothers and sisters of the Cathedral, you are the roots of this diocese. Because of your hospitality, we have most of our special diocesan services here. Because of your vision, we have outreach programs like the Crossing that are engaging the emerging church. Because of your compassion, thousands of people who are hungry and homeless are fed. One of the reasons I wanted to preach today is to tell you that this Cathedral, as venerable as it is, and its ancient stones erected in 1818 and consecrated as a cathedral by Bishop Lawrence in 1912, is not the Cathedral. No. You are the Cathedral along with those who came before you and those who will come after you. I know I speak for countless clergy and laity around the diocese who would echo my sentiments saying you are the roots of the Cathedral and therefore have the deepest roots among us anchoring us as a diocesan community.

I come to visit you today both as messenger and scout. As messenger, I offer greetings from the people of Christ Church. I also come as a scout to return to my church and my deanery telling them about the good work you are doing every day, every Sunday, in this location on Tremont Street and beyond.

Through our baptisms, we all are members of the Body of Christ and carry within us the Spirit of God. Each of us is called to special ministries according to the gifts given us by the spirit. Christ Church has a special ministry given us as a community. It is not about the size of attendance or how big the pledges are. Ministry is more than numbers. And as I have reflected on the Cathedral and its ministry and the people I have known here, I believe part of your ministry is to show the rest of us in the diocese how to do the right thing.

I am reminded of television series aired in 2004 called Angel: Down Under when the hero finds himself trapped in an underwater tomb and fears that no one will find him. After he is finally rescued he tells a friend,

“Nothing in this world is the way it ought to be. It’s harsh and cruel. But that is why there’s us. Champions. It doesn’t matter where we come from. What we have done or even if we make a difference. We live as though the world were what it should be, to show it what it can be.”

Brothers and sisters of the Cathedral, you live as though the world, were what it should be, to show the rest of us what it can be.

Keep it up and God bless you. And now to God, be the honor and the glory. Amen.

November 1 - The Feast of All Saints - Sally Bingham

John 11:32-44

Good morning and thank you for having me with you this morning. I bring greetings from the Bishop of California, Marc Andrus who installed me as a Canon last year largely because he couldn’t get me to shut up about the responsibility that Episcopalians have to care for Creation. I am often referred to as the Diocesan Loose Canon. I do not deny that I will blast you with stories and facts of environmental destruction that may just (to use a metaphor) knock you over. And I do go on about it if given the chance. I am a seeker of the truth and I do my very best to speak the truth.

But before I go further, I want to recognize that this is All Saints Day when we honor the Saints that have gone before and set the example for us to be good Christians. If you hoped for a sermon this morning that would address ALL the Saints you will be disappointed, because I will reference only one Saint-the patron saint of the city from which I come, San Francisco. Yes, St. Francis who loved all creatures great and small and treated the trees and plants with respect because they were created by God. While Francis is often referred to as an environmentalist, I don’t think he was. I believe that contrary to the folklore about him, he really was a man trying to recreate what it means to be human. He wanted to be as much like Christ as would be humanly possible and for him that meant defining the human purpose on earth. As he understood it, humans were created to care for all that is. It wasn’t the Sierra club that called earth good, first it was God.

Francis set out to set an example for us just as jesus had. He provide a voice for the poor, the underserved and the creation-all that needed a voice, but didn’t have one-all that was overlooked or beaten down by wealth- some segments of society then and now suffer the consequences of others irresponsibility. Often, it is the rich getting richer on the backs of the poor. Francis dedicated his life and ministry to trying to restore balance to a broken world that had fallen into dark times.

There is another reason that I am mentioning St. Francis and it is because I met Kathy and Skip Windsor in Assisi and together we explored the basilicas, caves and olive groves where Francis preached to the birds and gave food to the poor. Without that meeting-in St. Francis’s home town- I wouldn’t be here with you this morning. It was the beginning of a long and close friendship.

Back to my concern for Creation and I want to make it clear that Creation is what we are part of. God created us with special characteristics so we could look after the world he had made, but we are nontheless part of the Creation. The Creation often referred to as the environment, is not something out there------- it is here, it is us. We are the Creation. Understanding that deeply will help us change some of our behavior because we will connect how we treat the environment and how we treat each other as a reflection of how we feel about God. Furthermore it is in our own best interest to treat God’s creation with care. Harming it only harms our own ability to look after ourselves, not to mention everything else that God created.

I do have a passion for stewardship of God’s Creation and I believe that we, (you and I) the people in the pews who profess a love of God should be leading the charge to protect God’s Creation. And we should lead by example, just as Jesus and Francis did.

I know that are still folks in our church that are suspicious of environmentalism with the notion that the subject is political and doesn’t belong in church. I am often asked.

What does religion have to do with the environment, or isn’t the church getting involved with politics if we take stands on ecological issues. You already know my response ….. we, people of faith should be leading the environmental movement.

How can we sit in a pew and profess a love for God and praise the creation without wanting to protect it.

Unfortunately the environmental crisis HAS become political in part and it is too bad that happened because it is a far deeper issue than just politics. It is a scientific issue and I mention that particularly because I believe that contemporary scientist are the prophets of today- scientist like the ones that received last year’s Nobel peace prize. But care for creation is far deeper and far more important than politics or science, it is a spiritual issue and one that must be addressed by the faith community. How we care for Creation, today will dictate the future for many generations to come. It has become a matter of life and death: a matter that humans are the only ones in position to do something about. We created the problem and if we are going to keep this planet healthy for over 6 billion people to live on safely, we need to work hard to make real changes.

We have to have a healthy environment if we are going to survive as a species AND, as is becoming increasingly clear, if we are going to have a healthy economy we must have a healthy environment, too. For our society to be stable, we need three strong pillars for support. One is the economy, one is social/political stability and the third is a healthy environment. They share the weight equally, so if any one of those pillars collapse, the entire structure will fall. And right now, one of those pillars is on the verge of collapse.

The threat to our environment is largely due to an unhealthy reliance on fossil fuel for energy in this country and around the world. We are overly dependant on coal, oil and gas for our electricity, our transportation and our heating and cooling. The burning of these fuels is upsetting the balance of nature; the balance that God set into place in the beginning. We are witnessing the rise in temperature due to the rise in carbon dioxide that traps gasses from leaving the atmosphere. The level of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere is by far higher than it has ever been.

We are standing on the edge of two worlds. The one that God created and the one that humans are making. And the one we are making is not sustainable.

It is as serious as life and death. So I ask you to reflect back to the Lazarus story. Jesus chose to give life to his friend because he was a healer and I suspect that Jesus would choose to heal the planet, too.

Our readings this morning and the story of St. Francis are lessons in recreation, new birth, starting over - A new vision of heaven and a new earth.

There is something in the parable about Lazarus that I found

interesting. When Jesus called him out of the tomb, he asked for help from the others. Move the stone he said. Untie him and let him free. He didn’t do it for them, they had to participate in the action. They were part of the healing and had to act with Jesus to restore life.

We are in that kind of situation now. We need God to give us the courage and the will to restore balance in nature and to bring back life where things have already died. But we must participate. We cannot sit back and see if things work out. God will not do it for us. David Orr from Oberlin College says this well. To be optimistic is to assume that everything will turn out all right in the end, but hope is different. It is a verb with your sleeves rolled up. You have to be invested in the restoration

God asks us to roll up our sleeves and get to work. It won’t happen on its own.

The ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew, the leader of the 300 million Greek Orthodox has called environmental degradation a sin. I have to agree. If you love God and you believe that God created everything and called it good, then God loves the creation. God so loved the world, HE gave his only son……….Then isn’t it reasonable to think that insulting the creation, like taking tops of mountains to get coal is insulting to God. There are other ways to get coal that won’t destroy mountains, valley, rivers, streams and everything that lives in them. This can be said about deforestation and fishing with huge nets that capture and kill everything in its way when only fishing for one species. Wasting valuable life and resources. You have heard the expression-What would jesus do- well what would Francis do?

I don’t want to leave you with the idea that nothing is being done. There are thousands of people all over the world who are working hard to restore balance. Lots and lots of Francises who care as much about creation as they do themselves.

There is lots of good news.People are actually buying smaller more energy efficient cars, they are building houses at a more reasonable size. Recycling is becoming a normal thing and not a bother. It’s not everywhere, but I travel a lot and I am experiencing change. You may have a local coffee shop that gives a discount if you bring your own cup. Often there are signs in take out restaurants next to a paper napkin container that say--- Paper means trees- use only what you need. I have been to many hotels that suggest you leave your towels on the floor if you want clean ones, but if you think you could use a towel a second time, hang it up. Same with changing sheets. These efforts save water and energy. They are all steps in the right direction and will have an impact on how people behave. It simple raises consciousness. You can learn more about how to save energy and money at the Adult Forum this morning. Where you will hear from Vince, Clayton and Michael. People want to do the right thing, but often don’t know what to do. I say, just think before you do anything.

Think about justice and fairness for ALL of Creation, not just humans when you are making decision. It is people of faith, people who go to church and love Christ who can serve as models. It is up to us to show the way. We say we love God and love our neighbors then shouldn’t we demonstrate that behavior?

When you leave today, think of the healing messages and how Jesus could restore life, but he asked for help. If we have the faith in ourselves that we can heal this planet and we have the courage to make the changes we need to make AND a God beside us who is a healer- we will succeed. Indeed, as people of conscious and as Christians, there is no choice but to try.

And I will close with one last comment. Neither Jesus or Francis came to show us how to die, but rather to show us how to live.

amen