Merry Christmas! I hope that it has been a merry Christmas for you, and that it continues for the rest of Christmastide—another nine days! Did anyone get their three French hens this morning? Christmas is, as we all know, a season of gift-giving, although few of us can afford to be as extravagant as the true love sung about in the “Twelve Days of Christmas.” The gifts in the song are impractical—what in the world are you supposed to do with ten lords a-leaping?—but they reflect the kind of enthusiasm and sustained devotion we all hope to find in our own true loves, which is why I think the song remains a favorite at Christmastime, apart from the fact that it’s a lot of fun to sing in large groups! Who wouldn’t want their true love to shower them with gifts for twelve straight days, with each day showing more and more how much affection and love is there. The gifts themselves aren’t nearly as important as the love they show—although, maybe we could do without quite so many birds—and what really counts is that the lovers get to share the giving and the receiving of gifts together.
We gather together here as a church during Christmastime to remind each other that our true “true love” is always reaching out to us with gifts that show us His love, not just for twelve days at Christmastime, but every day. God is the first and greatest giver of gifts—God has given us everything: “All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being;” this world we live in, the people around us, everything that is good and beautiful in the world comes to us as a gift from the Creator. And God is not satisfied with these great gifts; God wants to give us more, to draw us closer to Him in love so that we can be together, so that, as Isaiah says, “our whole being shall exult in our God.” God wants to clothe us with the garments of salvation, God wants to cover us with the robes of righteousness, like a wedding garment—each of us dressed as a bridegroom or bride for a heavenly wedding. God is wooing us, not for a marriage as we know it, but for a different kind of union—eternal life with our true “true love,” the God of heaven and earth.
The desire to gather us together and prepare us for eternal life together with God in heaven is the reason why God gave us His greatest gift, the real gift of Christmas: Jesus Christ. On the first day of Christmas, our true love gave to us a child, lying in a manger, wrapped in swaddling clothes. This child is the Word of God, who was in the beginning with God, and who was God—this child is the Creator himself, the only Son of God, the perfect image of God the Father, the Christ child who shows us God. No one has ever seen God, but in Jesus, the invisible God is made known, made visible in human likeness, so that we can see and know the fullness of God’s love for us. Through his human life, Jesus shows us what it is to be a true child of God. By dedicating ourselves to Christ, by receiving the Christmas gift from our true “true Love,” we too, can become children of God, can enter into the family of God so that we can be together with Him and with all the children of God for all eternity. Today, we remember Jesus as a baby, but it won’t be long before we remember him as a man—his life embraces the fullness of human life, and from his fullness we have received grace upon grace, gift upon gift. The life of Christ is the crossroads, the place where God and humanity intersect and meet: in Jesus, God comes to us and we go to God.
We are here today to remember these truths, but not just to remember them. Today, we are going to put them into action, because we are here today for another reason, and he is sitting right there in that front pew. We are here today asking God to give a Christmas gift to Connor James Murray, the gift of baptism. Today, we are introducing one little boy to another: in that baptismal font, Connor will meet the infant Jesus. I hope that they will grow together to be life-long friends. I hope that Jesus will tell Connor everything about his parents: his mother, Mary, and especially God his Father; and I hope that Connor will talk to Jesus about his mother and father: Stacie & Ryan. I hope that Connor will trust his new friend Jesus with his joys and his hardships, his fears and his triumphs. I hope that they will share a long life together, and I hope that Jesus will present Connor to God the Father as a true child of God, who also calls God Father by the power of the Spirit.
In a few minutes, Connor will receive that Holy Spirit from the hands of God. As I pour the water over his brow, God will pour the light of Christ into his heart, the light that banishes the powers of darkness and despair. He will be clothed in Christ, who is the garment of salvation and the robe of righteousness. This baptism is a beginning for Connor, a gift that will continue to give for his whole life: a gift that is received by faith. And that’s where we come in, we the church, the people of faith. The light of Christ burns by faith, and we keep the fire kindled in each other, supporting one another’s faith through our common life together of prayer and service. The gift of baptism, as wonderful as it is, profits no one without faith in the God who gives it to us. God is the giver of extravagant gifts: they surround us all the time, but we must have the eyes and ears of faith to see them, to hear them, to receive them. In this baptismal rite, we will rededicate ourselves to God the Father, God the Son Jesus Christ, and God the Holy Spirit, that we may always walk by faith in the one true God, the giver of all good gifts, so that at the last day, we may share eternal life with our true “true Love”, the Lord of life. So let us now welcome Connor into the life of faith, and set our own feet on the way again.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Thursday, December 25, 2008
Christmas Day - Peter Tierney
“Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart.”
Mary the mother of Jesus; Mary the mother of God, on the night of his birth received the glad tidings spoken by angels and given to humble shepherds: “to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.” Mary embraced those wondrous words, those heavenly words that signaled the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy: ‘For a child has been born for us, a son given to us; authority rests upon his shoulders; and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” Mary heard these words about her newborn son, her miraculous son, born far from home in a strange town—in a lonely cattle shed—and she believed. Mary took all these words, she treasured them and she pondered them in her heart, and she adored her Son, the Lord.
These words are trustworthy and true: A child has been born for us; a son has been given to us, and he is the Messiah, the Lord Jesus. But before he was born for us, he was born by Mary; before he was given to us, he was given to her. And here we behold one of the greatest Christmas mysteries: Jesus, the Son of God, God the Son, is born of a woman—is born of this woman: Mary. Jesus, the savior of the world, the glorious Prince of Peace, would not, could not, be who he is without her, without Mary his mother. His whole humanity comes from her—surely he resembled her, surely the neighbors were always saying, “Doesn’t little Jesus look so much like his mother?” It was Mary and Joseph who raised Jesus in their Jewish faith, who taught him the scriptures and fostered his great love for his heavenly Father, the God of Israel. It was Mary who fed him and clothed him, Mary who provided for him and raised him to be the man we know in the Gospels. We are all products of our parents and our upbringing, and Jesus is no different. Without his mother Mary raising and guiding him, Jesus would have been a wholly different person, and a wholly different person would not be the savior that we know, the Messiah we have been promised.
This is one of the glorious mysteries of Christmas, that from before the foundation of the world God the Father knew that Mary would be the one to bring Jesus into the world, God the Son knew that Mary would be his mother, and God the Holy Spirit knew that she would freely say “yes,” with all her heart, to God’s plan for the world’s salvation. Everything depended on Mary’s “yes,” everything we know about Jesus and what he has done for us depended on his mother saying “yes” to his birth. And that is the foundation of the good news that the angels announced to the shepherds on that first Christmas night: Christ is born of Mary, her great “yes” has borne the fruit of salvation, unto us a child is born, wrapped in cloth and lying in a manger. The shepherds rushed to see the holy child and the holy family, and they shared their vision with Joseph and Mary. But later, in the morning, those shepherds went their own way, and Jesus was left with his parents: the beginning of thirty quiet years that we know almost nothing about—thirty years with his mother helping him become the man he needed to be. But Mary never forgot that holy night and the words brought to her by those shepherds—she treasured all those words and pondered them in her heart. And her heart, filled with love and God’s promise, her heart helped guide the heart of her son.
Mary is the Mother of God, the mother of Jesus, but she is also our mother: the mother of our faith because she was the first to believe in Jesus, the first to say “yes” to him in faith and love. Mary is Jesus’ first disciple, the first one to adore the Christ Child and the first person to follow her Son, even as she led him through his early years. Mary is the first one to dedicate her life to his life. She never wavered in her faith; she stayed by Christ’s side throughout his life, never stifling him but always letting his light shine. And if we are made children of God through faith in the Son of God, then that same faith makes us children of Jesus’ mother as well, children of faith. Mary is our model for devotion to Jesus Christ; like her, we are asked to dedicate our lives to him, and to receive the blessings of grace, peace, salvation and heavenly joy that he was born to bring. This Christmas, we recall the angelic hymn proclaimed to the shepherds, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those whom he favors!” God’s glory and God’s peace comes to us in Jesus Christ, and like his mother Mary, we can treasure these truths and ponder them in our hearts every day of our lives. And as we do, as we become more like her in our devotion, the closer we will be to her beautiful Son, Jesus the Christ, the beloved Child of God our Father in heaven, our saviour and redeemer. May we always be like Mary, saying “yes” to Christ our Lord, always letting him be born anew in our hearts. May his light shine on you Christmas, and every day in the new year that is coming. Merry, Merry Christmas.
Mary the mother of Jesus; Mary the mother of God, on the night of his birth received the glad tidings spoken by angels and given to humble shepherds: “to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.” Mary embraced those wondrous words, those heavenly words that signaled the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy: ‘For a child has been born for us, a son given to us; authority rests upon his shoulders; and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.” Mary heard these words about her newborn son, her miraculous son, born far from home in a strange town—in a lonely cattle shed—and she believed. Mary took all these words, she treasured them and she pondered them in her heart, and she adored her Son, the Lord.
These words are trustworthy and true: A child has been born for us; a son has been given to us, and he is the Messiah, the Lord Jesus. But before he was born for us, he was born by Mary; before he was given to us, he was given to her. And here we behold one of the greatest Christmas mysteries: Jesus, the Son of God, God the Son, is born of a woman—is born of this woman: Mary. Jesus, the savior of the world, the glorious Prince of Peace, would not, could not, be who he is without her, without Mary his mother. His whole humanity comes from her—surely he resembled her, surely the neighbors were always saying, “Doesn’t little Jesus look so much like his mother?” It was Mary and Joseph who raised Jesus in their Jewish faith, who taught him the scriptures and fostered his great love for his heavenly Father, the God of Israel. It was Mary who fed him and clothed him, Mary who provided for him and raised him to be the man we know in the Gospels. We are all products of our parents and our upbringing, and Jesus is no different. Without his mother Mary raising and guiding him, Jesus would have been a wholly different person, and a wholly different person would not be the savior that we know, the Messiah we have been promised.
This is one of the glorious mysteries of Christmas, that from before the foundation of the world God the Father knew that Mary would be the one to bring Jesus into the world, God the Son knew that Mary would be his mother, and God the Holy Spirit knew that she would freely say “yes,” with all her heart, to God’s plan for the world’s salvation. Everything depended on Mary’s “yes,” everything we know about Jesus and what he has done for us depended on his mother saying “yes” to his birth. And that is the foundation of the good news that the angels announced to the shepherds on that first Christmas night: Christ is born of Mary, her great “yes” has borne the fruit of salvation, unto us a child is born, wrapped in cloth and lying in a manger. The shepherds rushed to see the holy child and the holy family, and they shared their vision with Joseph and Mary. But later, in the morning, those shepherds went their own way, and Jesus was left with his parents: the beginning of thirty quiet years that we know almost nothing about—thirty years with his mother helping him become the man he needed to be. But Mary never forgot that holy night and the words brought to her by those shepherds—she treasured all those words and pondered them in her heart. And her heart, filled with love and God’s promise, her heart helped guide the heart of her son.
Mary is the Mother of God, the mother of Jesus, but she is also our mother: the mother of our faith because she was the first to believe in Jesus, the first to say “yes” to him in faith and love. Mary is Jesus’ first disciple, the first one to adore the Christ Child and the first person to follow her Son, even as she led him through his early years. Mary is the first one to dedicate her life to his life. She never wavered in her faith; she stayed by Christ’s side throughout his life, never stifling him but always letting his light shine. And if we are made children of God through faith in the Son of God, then that same faith makes us children of Jesus’ mother as well, children of faith. Mary is our model for devotion to Jesus Christ; like her, we are asked to dedicate our lives to him, and to receive the blessings of grace, peace, salvation and heavenly joy that he was born to bring. This Christmas, we recall the angelic hymn proclaimed to the shepherds, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace to those whom he favors!” God’s glory and God’s peace comes to us in Jesus Christ, and like his mother Mary, we can treasure these truths and ponder them in our hearts every day of our lives. And as we do, as we become more like her in our devotion, the closer we will be to her beautiful Son, Jesus the Christ, the beloved Child of God our Father in heaven, our saviour and redeemer. May we always be like Mary, saying “yes” to Christ our Lord, always letting him be born anew in our hearts. May his light shine on you Christmas, and every day in the new year that is coming. Merry, Merry Christmas.
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Christmas Eve - Skip Windsor
Luke 2:1-20
Let us pray: In the name of God, Creator, Redeemer and Sustainer. Amen.
There is a story that says that on Christmas Eve an enchantment falls upon the earth. It is a time when the Spirit of a newborn Child whose name is Love possesses the world. The way to Christmas lies through an ancient gate patterned after a sheepfold and guarded by angels with stardust in their hair. It is a little gate, child-high, and there is a password: “Peace on earth to all of good will.”
Tonight, I invite us to step through the Christmas Gate and, for one brief illuminating moment, ponder once again the Nativity story of the Word who came into the world wordless and became one of us so we could be one with Him.
This night is unique among the other nights of the year. You and I gather together as families and friends to pause and ponder the absolute audacity of God to come into the world not as a powerful prince, but as a homeless child. The Nativity of Jesus stretches past the limits of rational thinking and takes us to the farthest reaches of wonder where we are left standing in the unmapped realm of divine mystery.
Christmas is when you and I celebrate and honor our Eternal God who chooses to come into the world as one of us – as a baby, who is speechless, dependent and vulnerable. The One who was proclaimed as Messiah, the Branch of the House of David, and the God whom nations proclaim as Lord, Savior, and King is seen this silent and holy night as a baby, held by his mother, who holds him and rocks him to sleep with a lullaby.
How can we not be drawn to Bethlehem? No matter how many times you and I have heard the story from Luke’s Gospel, Christmas conjures up memories and images from the past that we hold dear this night. It makes us hopeful and happy. It takes us back to childhood to a time of innocence and wonder. We still yearn for the innocent blessing at the manger.
Perhaps we are drawn like the shepherds and kings to Bethlehem again because we yearn for that innocence with those we once so happily possessed. Perhaps, we seek to remember a faint song whose melody and words we have forgotten. Perhaps, it is to glimpse back to another world – a landscape of delight from the past that has been eroded with the years. Maybe, it is to find some discarded talisman we left behind when we grew into adulthood. Some would say it is a quest for a second naïveté that will restore once again the wonder, the awe, and the curiosity we once held in an earlier time.
The quest for a lost innocence is the shadow side of maturity. Our quest today is nothing new. It is timeless. This yearning haunted Thomas Traherne, the 17th Century Anglican mystic and priest, who wrote, “The light that shone in my infancy in its original and innocent clarity was totally eclipsed; so that as a man I had to learn it all over again.”
Christmas allows us to reclaim our innocence. It is the time re-learn who we were.
The gift of this night pulls us back away from the cares and worries of the moment. There is time enough for tomorrow but tonight we’re on vacation. It’s time to take a break, relax and to dream: dream of the coming of light and sound from a shining star, of the glittering array of Cherubim, Seraphim, archangels, angels, and white-robed saints who echo through the firmament of heaven that this Christmas is to be a Holiday.
Christmas is our moment to take a holiday from all encroaching demands, fears, worries and anxieties that confront us every other day of the year. Tonight, we shed all that. Tonight, we travel light. Tonight, we wonder and marvel at Love’s pure unfolding. Tonight, God’s calls us to celebrate, to rejoice, and to share in the Christ Child’s birth.
Christmas is when angels and devils dance together, where the lion and the lamb lay down together, where peace like a river flows among enemies, where all souls are children at play, and where the entire starry host of heaven mingle as one, and God cries, “Holiday!”
On this holiest of nights, we are invited to know the secret fully known only to children and sages: That God is made known to us not through elaborate theories, carbon dating, or complex books, but in the flesh of a new born child. The Word made flesh comes to us wordlessly, silently, and tender as a kiss.
In the well known hymn, In the bleak Mid-Winter, by Christina Rossetti there are two verses that serve us tonight as affirmation and invitation:
There will be another day when force will have its day. There will be another time when complexity will have its moment. On another occasion, justice will have its season. And we will pray that we have the will to follow Him to that barren tree that is another kind of gate.
But tonight is not that night. Not yet. God is still a child this night; and we are to walk through the Gate of Christmas towards Him as children to share in joy, happiness and merriment. For the moment, the host of heaven calls us to take a holiday with God and shout out the password to all who will hear: “Peace on earth to all of good will.”
So this night of nights you and I are on holiday. Come let us adore Him and become children again and enter into His Heavenly Peace with comfort and joy.
Merry Christmas! Amen.
Let us pray: In the name of God, Creator, Redeemer and Sustainer. Amen.
There is a story that says that on Christmas Eve an enchantment falls upon the earth. It is a time when the Spirit of a newborn Child whose name is Love possesses the world. The way to Christmas lies through an ancient gate patterned after a sheepfold and guarded by angels with stardust in their hair. It is a little gate, child-high, and there is a password: “Peace on earth to all of good will.”
Tonight, I invite us to step through the Christmas Gate and, for one brief illuminating moment, ponder once again the Nativity story of the Word who came into the world wordless and became one of us so we could be one with Him.
This night is unique among the other nights of the year. You and I gather together as families and friends to pause and ponder the absolute audacity of God to come into the world not as a powerful prince, but as a homeless child. The Nativity of Jesus stretches past the limits of rational thinking and takes us to the farthest reaches of wonder where we are left standing in the unmapped realm of divine mystery.
Christmas is when you and I celebrate and honor our Eternal God who chooses to come into the world as one of us – as a baby, who is speechless, dependent and vulnerable. The One who was proclaimed as Messiah, the Branch of the House of David, and the God whom nations proclaim as Lord, Savior, and King is seen this silent and holy night as a baby, held by his mother, who holds him and rocks him to sleep with a lullaby.
How can we not be drawn to Bethlehem? No matter how many times you and I have heard the story from Luke’s Gospel, Christmas conjures up memories and images from the past that we hold dear this night. It makes us hopeful and happy. It takes us back to childhood to a time of innocence and wonder. We still yearn for the innocent blessing at the manger.
Perhaps we are drawn like the shepherds and kings to Bethlehem again because we yearn for that innocence with those we once so happily possessed. Perhaps, we seek to remember a faint song whose melody and words we have forgotten. Perhaps, it is to glimpse back to another world – a landscape of delight from the past that has been eroded with the years. Maybe, it is to find some discarded talisman we left behind when we grew into adulthood. Some would say it is a quest for a second naïveté that will restore once again the wonder, the awe, and the curiosity we once held in an earlier time.
The quest for a lost innocence is the shadow side of maturity. Our quest today is nothing new. It is timeless. This yearning haunted Thomas Traherne, the 17th Century Anglican mystic and priest, who wrote, “The light that shone in my infancy in its original and innocent clarity was totally eclipsed; so that as a man I had to learn it all over again.”
Christmas allows us to reclaim our innocence. It is the time re-learn who we were.
The gift of this night pulls us back away from the cares and worries of the moment. There is time enough for tomorrow but tonight we’re on vacation. It’s time to take a break, relax and to dream: dream of the coming of light and sound from a shining star, of the glittering array of Cherubim, Seraphim, archangels, angels, and white-robed saints who echo through the firmament of heaven that this Christmas is to be a Holiday.
Christmas is our moment to take a holiday from all encroaching demands, fears, worries and anxieties that confront us every other day of the year. Tonight, we shed all that. Tonight, we travel light. Tonight, we wonder and marvel at Love’s pure unfolding. Tonight, God’s calls us to celebrate, to rejoice, and to share in the Christ Child’s birth.
Christmas is when angels and devils dance together, where the lion and the lamb lay down together, where peace like a river flows among enemies, where all souls are children at play, and where the entire starry host of heaven mingle as one, and God cries, “Holiday!”
On this holiest of nights, we are invited to know the secret fully known only to children and sages: That God is made known to us not through elaborate theories, carbon dating, or complex books, but in the flesh of a new born child. The Word made flesh comes to us wordlessly, silently, and tender as a kiss.
In the well known hymn, In the bleak Mid-Winter, by Christina Rossetti there are two verses that serve us tonight as affirmation and invitation:
Angels and archangels may have gathered there,Tonight, what we are is enough for God. Tonight, God wants our hearts to be merry – To be of One Heart, One Mind, with Him. For tomorrow, we know, the Child of Bethlehem will mature into a man setting his face towards Jerusalem.
Cherubim and seraphim thronged the air,
But his mother only in her maiden bliss
Worshipped the Beloved with a kiss.
What can I give him, poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd I would bring him a lamb,
If I were a wiseman I would do my part,
Yet what can I give him, give him my heart.
There will be another day when force will have its day. There will be another time when complexity will have its moment. On another occasion, justice will have its season. And we will pray that we have the will to follow Him to that barren tree that is another kind of gate.
But tonight is not that night. Not yet. God is still a child this night; and we are to walk through the Gate of Christmas towards Him as children to share in joy, happiness and merriment. For the moment, the host of heaven calls us to take a holiday with God and shout out the password to all who will hear: “Peace on earth to all of good will.”
So this night of nights you and I are on holiday. Come let us adore Him and become children again and enter into His Heavenly Peace with comfort and joy.
Merry Christmas! Amen.
Sunday, December 21, 2008
Advent IV - Skip Windsor
Luke 1:26-38; Canticle 15
Let us pray:
Almighty God, you invite us deeper and deeper into the mystery of Advent. Give us, we pray, your love shown through your servant, Mary, who said “yes” and made the whole creation new through your Son Jesus Christ. Amen.
The last Sunday in Advent is given over to the stories of Mary the mother of Jesus. Mary is mentioned, in one form or fashion, in all for Gospels. Yet, Luke is the most sympathetic of the Evangelists to who she is and what she represents to Christians. It is in Luke’s Gospel that we have a detailed account of the Annunciation, which we just heard proclaimed, as well as, of her song – the well known and lovely, Magnificat.
The text I invite us to consider this morning is the first line from the Magnificat, “My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord.” I think these words say a lot to us this Christmas as we contemplate the gifts we will share with one another and what gifts can we give to God this season. I think the older translation of the Magnificat offers you and me a clue: “My soul doth magnify the Lord.” The key word is “magnify” because it alludes to the idea of glass.
I like to think that Mary is “the glass of God” because by her life she magnifies the greatness of God; but she is also like glass because she serves as a prism with many facets in which to turn and see her in a different light. As a prism she reflects the rays of the divine. Turn one way and we see Mary in one light. Turn another way and we see Mary in another light.
One facet of Mary is the Mary of Faith. Down through the centuries, much of the Christian Church has referred to Mary as the Theotokos or God-Bearer. As the Mother of Jesus or Son of God, she has a special place in the piety of the Church. She is also considered the source of healing in particular shrines and grottos such as Lourdes and Fatima. Roman Catholic dogma teaches that she is one who was immaculately conceived by her mother, Anne, and that she was assumed into heaven in the same vein as Elijah and Moses. In the Koran, Mary is mentioned more times than in the Bible. She is venerated in the Islamic faith as the mother of a great prophet and therefore is due the respect accorded to all mothers of religious prophets.
Another facet of Mary is the Mary of History. What we know of the historical Mary is included in the Gospels. Paul, the earliest of the Christian writers, does not mention Mary by name but alludes to Christ being born of a woman, when he writes, “(Jesus) who was born of the seed of David according to the flesh” (Rom. 1:3) and “Coming in human likeness and found human in appearance” (Phil. 2:7). It is left to Luke to fill in the gaps about Mary and we see that most clearly in the Gospel reading for this morning.
Imagine if you will a young girl of thirteen who is betrothed to an older man. She is like other girls in the village of Nazareth who are of age to marry being so guided by their mothers. Walking down the street, Mary wouldn’t appear out of the ordinary from other young raven haired, dark-eyed, girls you might see today in Hebron, Jerusalem, or Tel Aviv. Recalling Luke’s story, this young girl, Mary, is alone either in her house or out in a field somewhere. She is not expecting anything out of the ordinary and certainly not an archangel!
But a messenger comes; and he greets her with the words, “Favored one;” and that makes all the difference. God chooses whom God chooses. According Luke, Gabriel delivers God’s message and like any smart young woman who finds an archangel in her midst she is perplexed even frightened. Assuring Mary, the angel tells her that she has found favor in God’s eyes and that she will bear the Son of God.
I would like to think that Mary got caught up in the whole “How is this going to happen” thing. You get the sense that she gets stuck on the conception idea and kind of stops there to figure out how this is all going to work. How many times have we heard God’s call for something big in our lives, in our churches, only to get mired down in the details like, “Do I have time?” or “How’s this going to turn out?” If you catch my drift then it becomes easier to understand Mary’s perplexity. You can imagine her hands drift slowly down to her belly as if to try and feel a bit of the truth being offered to her.
What Luke is recounting is not only the favor and the promise given to Mary but, most importantly, the choice that is hers to make. Something is not going to be done to her; rather, something is going to be done with her. And in that turning of the glass, in that revolving of the prism, seeing it’s Mary’s choice makes all the difference in the world. It is Mary’s decision not God’s. There is a wonderful little story by Christian writer, Frederick Buechner, who imagines the encounter between Mary and Gabriel:
"She struck the angel Gabriel as hardly old enough to have a child at all, let alone this child, but he’d been entrusted with a message to give her and he gave it. He told her what the Child was to be named, and who He was to be, and something about the mystery that was to come upon her. “You mustn’t be afraid, Mary,” he said. As her said it, he only hoped she wouldn’t notice that beneath the great, golden wings he himself was trembling with fear to think that the whole future of creation hung now on the answer of a girl.”
And so divinity is given by the consent of a girl who comes to understand that nothing is impossible with God. Nothing, my friends, is impossible with God. This is the good news for today. Trusting in God, can you and I respond with receptivity to God’s call to us? Are we open, like Mary, to the promise and possibility that God gives us through Jesus Christ?
The answer of a girl who said, Here am I… let it be…” is the invitation to us to be open to God’s call. “Yes” is the gift we can give to God. It is the gift Mary gave to God and it is the gift we, too, can give when invited by God to do great things. So this Christmas be open and “Let it be…” Amen.
Let us pray:
Almighty God, you invite us deeper and deeper into the mystery of Advent. Give us, we pray, your love shown through your servant, Mary, who said “yes” and made the whole creation new through your Son Jesus Christ. Amen.
The last Sunday in Advent is given over to the stories of Mary the mother of Jesus. Mary is mentioned, in one form or fashion, in all for Gospels. Yet, Luke is the most sympathetic of the Evangelists to who she is and what she represents to Christians. It is in Luke’s Gospel that we have a detailed account of the Annunciation, which we just heard proclaimed, as well as, of her song – the well known and lovely, Magnificat.
The text I invite us to consider this morning is the first line from the Magnificat, “My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord.” I think these words say a lot to us this Christmas as we contemplate the gifts we will share with one another and what gifts can we give to God this season. I think the older translation of the Magnificat offers you and me a clue: “My soul doth magnify the Lord.” The key word is “magnify” because it alludes to the idea of glass.
I like to think that Mary is “the glass of God” because by her life she magnifies the greatness of God; but she is also like glass because she serves as a prism with many facets in which to turn and see her in a different light. As a prism she reflects the rays of the divine. Turn one way and we see Mary in one light. Turn another way and we see Mary in another light.
One facet of Mary is the Mary of Faith. Down through the centuries, much of the Christian Church has referred to Mary as the Theotokos or God-Bearer. As the Mother of Jesus or Son of God, she has a special place in the piety of the Church. She is also considered the source of healing in particular shrines and grottos such as Lourdes and Fatima. Roman Catholic dogma teaches that she is one who was immaculately conceived by her mother, Anne, and that she was assumed into heaven in the same vein as Elijah and Moses. In the Koran, Mary is mentioned more times than in the Bible. She is venerated in the Islamic faith as the mother of a great prophet and therefore is due the respect accorded to all mothers of religious prophets.
Another facet of Mary is the Mary of History. What we know of the historical Mary is included in the Gospels. Paul, the earliest of the Christian writers, does not mention Mary by name but alludes to Christ being born of a woman, when he writes, “(Jesus) who was born of the seed of David according to the flesh” (Rom. 1:3) and “Coming in human likeness and found human in appearance” (Phil. 2:7). It is left to Luke to fill in the gaps about Mary and we see that most clearly in the Gospel reading for this morning.
Imagine if you will a young girl of thirteen who is betrothed to an older man. She is like other girls in the village of Nazareth who are of age to marry being so guided by their mothers. Walking down the street, Mary wouldn’t appear out of the ordinary from other young raven haired, dark-eyed, girls you might see today in Hebron, Jerusalem, or Tel Aviv. Recalling Luke’s story, this young girl, Mary, is alone either in her house or out in a field somewhere. She is not expecting anything out of the ordinary and certainly not an archangel!
But a messenger comes; and he greets her with the words, “Favored one;” and that makes all the difference. God chooses whom God chooses. According Luke, Gabriel delivers God’s message and like any smart young woman who finds an archangel in her midst she is perplexed even frightened. Assuring Mary, the angel tells her that she has found favor in God’s eyes and that she will bear the Son of God.
I would like to think that Mary got caught up in the whole “How is this going to happen” thing. You get the sense that she gets stuck on the conception idea and kind of stops there to figure out how this is all going to work. How many times have we heard God’s call for something big in our lives, in our churches, only to get mired down in the details like, “Do I have time?” or “How’s this going to turn out?” If you catch my drift then it becomes easier to understand Mary’s perplexity. You can imagine her hands drift slowly down to her belly as if to try and feel a bit of the truth being offered to her.
What Luke is recounting is not only the favor and the promise given to Mary but, most importantly, the choice that is hers to make. Something is not going to be done to her; rather, something is going to be done with her. And in that turning of the glass, in that revolving of the prism, seeing it’s Mary’s choice makes all the difference in the world. It is Mary’s decision not God’s. There is a wonderful little story by Christian writer, Frederick Buechner, who imagines the encounter between Mary and Gabriel:
"She struck the angel Gabriel as hardly old enough to have a child at all, let alone this child, but he’d been entrusted with a message to give her and he gave it. He told her what the Child was to be named, and who He was to be, and something about the mystery that was to come upon her. “You mustn’t be afraid, Mary,” he said. As her said it, he only hoped she wouldn’t notice that beneath the great, golden wings he himself was trembling with fear to think that the whole future of creation hung now on the answer of a girl.”
And so divinity is given by the consent of a girl who comes to understand that nothing is impossible with God. Nothing, my friends, is impossible with God. This is the good news for today. Trusting in God, can you and I respond with receptivity to God’s call to us? Are we open, like Mary, to the promise and possibility that God gives us through Jesus Christ?
The answer of a girl who said, Here am I… let it be…” is the invitation to us to be open to God’s call. “Yes” is the gift we can give to God. It is the gift Mary gave to God and it is the gift we, too, can give when invited by God to do great things. So this Christmas be open and “Let it be…” Amen.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
Advent III - Skip Windsor
1 Thess. 5:16-24; John 1:19-28
Gracious God, Let these words be more than words and give us the spirit of Christ. Amen.
The reading from the Gospel of John is inserted into the Advent season to draw attention to the familiar figure of John the Baptist; or as his title should be more aptly read as “John the Herald.” For the Evangelist John, it is the role of Herald – the messenger – that the Baptist is to be remembered and not just as the one who baptizes Jesus in the River Jordan.
As herald and forerunner, John is pointing the people towards the “one whom you do not know, the one who is coming after me…” Prior to this statement, people wondered whether John himself might be the Messiah. After all, he had a big following of people. So it would be natural to have the priests and Levites ask him “Who are you?” Of course, John gives them all a resounding “No” and then announces who he is: “I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness.” In this one sentence, “I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness,” that sums up much of the essence of John’s Gospel and crystallizes for us the meaning of this Advent season.
The use of “I am” will be used seven more times in this Gospel. Another man will use these words. They will be used by Jesus to answer other people’s similar question that was asked of John: “Who are you?” And Jesus will answer them: I am the resurrection and the life; I am the bread of life; I am the vine; and I am the light of the world. These “I am” sayings scholars call the Dominical Sayings and are self-referencing titles referring to the Messiah. Their origin comes from Exodus 3:14 when Moses asks God at the Burning Bush, “Who are you?” And, of course, we know what God says to Moses, “I am that I am.”
I am that I am. I am the Bread of Life. I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness. Does it seem to you this Advent that the Christian message is being lost in the dark woods of culture and society either by an overshadowing economic anxiety or a creeping seduction of deep discount sales causing people to act like cattle on the hoof? Does it seem to you that John’s statement is as true today as it was 2000 years ago? Can we still hear the herald’s thundering voice calling out to us as he did so long ago? I wonder because there are forces and points of view out there that are sidelining our Christian faith. I say this because it is not only that the John’s voice is being drowned out but so are his words.
This past week, the Oxford University Press announced that its dictionary for children is eliminating a number of words related to Christianity. Words like abbey, aisle, bishop, christen, disciple, monastery, monk, parish, pew, psalm, saint and vicar are to be replaced by words like blog, broadband, MP3 player, voicemail, attachment, database, export, chatroom, bullet point, and “cut and paste.”
The rationale being used by the dictionary editors to justify the changes is the declining church attendance and multiculturalism. Although surprising, it seems to be part of the continuing conversation among many pundits today about the decay of religion in our post-modern world.
There is post-modern point of view – a reputed post-Christian point of view - held by many that not only is Christianity declining but it is dead. In TV host, Bill Maher’s recent movie, Religulous, whose title is a riff on the words religious and ridiculous, he mocks people of faith, saying that religion is a “neurological disorder.”
His film interviews range from people at a Creation Museum in Kentucky to those who worship at a truck-stop chapel in North Carolina. In each case, he surmises that people say they are good because they want to be saved; and that for Maher, “that’s not a good reason to be religious.”
Evaluating Maher’s movie, Jeff Jacoby of the Boston Globe asks in a recent column the question, “Can you be good without God?” Attempting to explore this question, Jacoby cites in his column the Harvard lawyer, Alan Dershowitz, by writing,
According to Jacoby, Dershowitz, represents a growing number of people who claim that it is not only more moral not to need God but it is also better. This line of reasoning is follows a rising and unsettling atheistic pattern these days by thinkers and writers such as Christopher Hitchens and Richard Dawkins who believe that religion is a malignant force in the world. While it is true that religious fundamentalism has pushed believers of all faiths into deadly wars, encrusted prejudice, and mindless thinking, it has also elevated humanity towards righteousness, forgiveness, and service.
Such leaders in culture and society such as Maher, Dershowitz, and Hitchens need a response from the religious community. And the question for us is whether we as people of faith are giving the opponents of faith and religion an adequate answer; or, are we like John the Herald who is crying out in the cultural, economic and political wilderness of our generation?
In our Psalm today, the author writes during a time of stress how a people came through tribulation and captivity and how God restored their homes, their lives, and their nation. Their response was gratitude, “Their mouths were filled with laughter and their tongues with shouts of joy.” Unlike the psalmist, I do not hear peels of laughter or words of joy coming from the mouths today of religion’s opponents.
One thing the opponents of religion forget is the joy that comes with faith. They do not get that religious people live responsibly, serve compassionately, and care deeply for God and one another not because God demands it but because God desires it. And these atheists cannot grasp the transformative power of God to forgive, to heal and to transform.
We have heard the stories of people who forgave a murderer who killed their Amish children. I have met a woman at Christ Church whose cancer is in remission because of the prayers of the people here. And I have seen a beaten and broken African-American boxer rise from defeat and prejudice to become the lay leader of an Episcopal Cathedral. Faith elevates people with dignity to their better selves ennobling them to serve God and God’s people with a joy that the world cannot give.
You and I like John are called to be heralds. We are to point to the one who not only gives joy; but he is joy. The apostle Paul was apprehended by this joy through the Risen Christ while on the road to Damascus and he wanted to share it with everyone. In our Epistle lesson this morning from First Thessalonians – his earliest letter and therefore the earliest piece of New Testament writing – Paul proclaims the joy in Christ when he writes, “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, gives thanks in all circumstances.”
In uncertain economic times like right now sometimes it is hard to hear the voice of one crying in the wilderness let alone be a voice crying out in the wilderness. It seems easier to give into sadness and surrender at this time of year. Yet, Paul reminds us “to hold fast to what is good.”
Although you may feel like you are hanging on for dear life these days, we are reminded to hold fast by remembering that your joy – God’s joy – is not dependent upon prosperity, wealth, luck or anything external. Rather, it is based upon the remarkable gift given to each of us through the Holy Spirit of being part of the life, purpose, and work of God. As with any divine gifts, it is given to us for a reason.
Isn’t interesting that among the voices in our lessons this Advent and Christmas with all the prophets and sages that we hear of an early church community in Thessalonica who discovered peace and harmony in the midst of turmoil and trouble and found the fruits of their faithfulness was this joy. I would like to think that we are like the men and women of that little fledgling Christian Church who did not know what a day would bring; yet, in faith they believed God would be with them. They dreamed the good dreams of God in an age of nightmare – and they got through their dark nights of the soul because they never felt alone nor abandoned.
The image I hold this season is the image of the Salvation Army woman who is ringing a bell. In an ad on TV she is ringing a bell in the broken places of the world: in an alley with a huddled homeless man, in a cold home with a shivering mother and child, and on the roof of a house swamped by a flood as a boat rescues people there to safety. I would like to think that this image of the bell ringer is the icon of our Christian work together.
For it places us where we should be.
It places you and me in the shadow of Christmas where the helpless and the homeless live. It places us in the shadow of Christmas where the lonely and grieving feel forgotten. It places us in the shadow of Christmas where love is born. For it is in the shadows where Christ was born and where we will find our joy; and unlike faith’s opponents, who cannot grasp this simple truth, God gives us the faith and courage to go into the shadows to find him; and it is there among the least, the last, the lost and the lonely among the most vulnerable that we find the child Christ and come to love Him again as if for the first time. Amen.
Gracious God, Let these words be more than words and give us the spirit of Christ. Amen.
The reading from the Gospel of John is inserted into the Advent season to draw attention to the familiar figure of John the Baptist; or as his title should be more aptly read as “John the Herald.” For the Evangelist John, it is the role of Herald – the messenger – that the Baptist is to be remembered and not just as the one who baptizes Jesus in the River Jordan.
As herald and forerunner, John is pointing the people towards the “one whom you do not know, the one who is coming after me…” Prior to this statement, people wondered whether John himself might be the Messiah. After all, he had a big following of people. So it would be natural to have the priests and Levites ask him “Who are you?” Of course, John gives them all a resounding “No” and then announces who he is: “I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness.” In this one sentence, “I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness,” that sums up much of the essence of John’s Gospel and crystallizes for us the meaning of this Advent season.
The use of “I am” will be used seven more times in this Gospel. Another man will use these words. They will be used by Jesus to answer other people’s similar question that was asked of John: “Who are you?” And Jesus will answer them: I am the resurrection and the life; I am the bread of life; I am the vine; and I am the light of the world. These “I am” sayings scholars call the Dominical Sayings and are self-referencing titles referring to the Messiah. Their origin comes from Exodus 3:14 when Moses asks God at the Burning Bush, “Who are you?” And, of course, we know what God says to Moses, “I am that I am.”
I am that I am. I am the Bread of Life. I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness. Does it seem to you this Advent that the Christian message is being lost in the dark woods of culture and society either by an overshadowing economic anxiety or a creeping seduction of deep discount sales causing people to act like cattle on the hoof? Does it seem to you that John’s statement is as true today as it was 2000 years ago? Can we still hear the herald’s thundering voice calling out to us as he did so long ago? I wonder because there are forces and points of view out there that are sidelining our Christian faith. I say this because it is not only that the John’s voice is being drowned out but so are his words.
This past week, the Oxford University Press announced that its dictionary for children is eliminating a number of words related to Christianity. Words like abbey, aisle, bishop, christen, disciple, monastery, monk, parish, pew, psalm, saint and vicar are to be replaced by words like blog, broadband, MP3 player, voicemail, attachment, database, export, chatroom, bullet point, and “cut and paste.”
The rationale being used by the dictionary editors to justify the changes is the declining church attendance and multiculturalism. Although surprising, it seems to be part of the continuing conversation among many pundits today about the decay of religion in our post-modern world.
There is post-modern point of view – a reputed post-Christian point of view - held by many that not only is Christianity declining but it is dead. In TV host, Bill Maher’s recent movie, Religulous, whose title is a riff on the words religious and ridiculous, he mocks people of faith, saying that religion is a “neurological disorder.”
His film interviews range from people at a Creation Museum in Kentucky to those who worship at a truck-stop chapel in North Carolina. In each case, he surmises that people say they are good because they want to be saved; and that for Maher, “that’s not a good reason to be religious.”
Evaluating Maher’s movie, Jeff Jacoby of the Boston Globe asks in a recent column the question, “Can you be good without God?” Attempting to explore this question, Jacoby cites in his column the Harvard lawyer, Alan Dershowitz, by writing,
“Doing something because God has said to do it does not make a person moral: It merely tells us that a person is a prudential believer, akin to the person who obeys the command of an all-mighty secular king… To be truly moral one should be a person of good character because it is right to be such a person.”
According to Jacoby, Dershowitz, represents a growing number of people who claim that it is not only more moral not to need God but it is also better. This line of reasoning is follows a rising and unsettling atheistic pattern these days by thinkers and writers such as Christopher Hitchens and Richard Dawkins who believe that religion is a malignant force in the world. While it is true that religious fundamentalism has pushed believers of all faiths into deadly wars, encrusted prejudice, and mindless thinking, it has also elevated humanity towards righteousness, forgiveness, and service.
Such leaders in culture and society such as Maher, Dershowitz, and Hitchens need a response from the religious community. And the question for us is whether we as people of faith are giving the opponents of faith and religion an adequate answer; or, are we like John the Herald who is crying out in the cultural, economic and political wilderness of our generation?
In our Psalm today, the author writes during a time of stress how a people came through tribulation and captivity and how God restored their homes, their lives, and their nation. Their response was gratitude, “Their mouths were filled with laughter and their tongues with shouts of joy.” Unlike the psalmist, I do not hear peels of laughter or words of joy coming from the mouths today of religion’s opponents.
One thing the opponents of religion forget is the joy that comes with faith. They do not get that religious people live responsibly, serve compassionately, and care deeply for God and one another not because God demands it but because God desires it. And these atheists cannot grasp the transformative power of God to forgive, to heal and to transform.
We have heard the stories of people who forgave a murderer who killed their Amish children. I have met a woman at Christ Church whose cancer is in remission because of the prayers of the people here. And I have seen a beaten and broken African-American boxer rise from defeat and prejudice to become the lay leader of an Episcopal Cathedral. Faith elevates people with dignity to their better selves ennobling them to serve God and God’s people with a joy that the world cannot give.
You and I like John are called to be heralds. We are to point to the one who not only gives joy; but he is joy. The apostle Paul was apprehended by this joy through the Risen Christ while on the road to Damascus and he wanted to share it with everyone. In our Epistle lesson this morning from First Thessalonians – his earliest letter and therefore the earliest piece of New Testament writing – Paul proclaims the joy in Christ when he writes, “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, gives thanks in all circumstances.”
In uncertain economic times like right now sometimes it is hard to hear the voice of one crying in the wilderness let alone be a voice crying out in the wilderness. It seems easier to give into sadness and surrender at this time of year. Yet, Paul reminds us “to hold fast to what is good.”
Although you may feel like you are hanging on for dear life these days, we are reminded to hold fast by remembering that your joy – God’s joy – is not dependent upon prosperity, wealth, luck or anything external. Rather, it is based upon the remarkable gift given to each of us through the Holy Spirit of being part of the life, purpose, and work of God. As with any divine gifts, it is given to us for a reason.
Isn’t interesting that among the voices in our lessons this Advent and Christmas with all the prophets and sages that we hear of an early church community in Thessalonica who discovered peace and harmony in the midst of turmoil and trouble and found the fruits of their faithfulness was this joy. I would like to think that we are like the men and women of that little fledgling Christian Church who did not know what a day would bring; yet, in faith they believed God would be with them. They dreamed the good dreams of God in an age of nightmare – and they got through their dark nights of the soul because they never felt alone nor abandoned.
The image I hold this season is the image of the Salvation Army woman who is ringing a bell. In an ad on TV she is ringing a bell in the broken places of the world: in an alley with a huddled homeless man, in a cold home with a shivering mother and child, and on the roof of a house swamped by a flood as a boat rescues people there to safety. I would like to think that this image of the bell ringer is the icon of our Christian work together.
For it places us where we should be.
It places you and me in the shadow of Christmas where the helpless and the homeless live. It places us in the shadow of Christmas where the lonely and grieving feel forgotten. It places us in the shadow of Christmas where love is born. For it is in the shadows where Christ was born and where we will find our joy; and unlike faith’s opponents, who cannot grasp this simple truth, God gives us the faith and courage to go into the shadows to find him; and it is there among the least, the last, the lost and the lonely among the most vulnerable that we find the child Christ and come to love Him again as if for the first time. Amen.
Sunday, November 30, 2008
Advent I - Skip Windsor
Mark 13:24-37
Let us pray: “Most gracious God be with us and give us the Spirit of Christ.” Amen.
Could be!
Who knows?
There’s something due any day;
I will know right away,
Soon as it shows.
It may come cannonballing down through the sky,
Gleam in its eye,
Bright as a rose!
These lyrics, of course, are from the musical West Side Story that premiered fifty years ago in New York City. The hero, Tony’s song, about something coming is apt for Advent since John the Baptist announces something’s coming, too.
The particular message in today’s Gospel from Mark is a clarion call is to stay alert, to be ready for a new reality when God’s Kingdom will be made known. It could not be any clearer: STAY AWAKE. But, right now, it is hard to be attentive and alert. Mighty things in the world distract us. We worry… we worry for our families… we worry for our friends and neighbors… we worry about a world caught up in a global economic crisis.
All of us are swept up in an economic whirlwind unprecedented in our generation. Diminishing investments, vaporizing 401K’s, rising unemployment, and imploding global markets—all make for a Perfect Storm of uncertainty and fear.
None of us are immunized from what’s happening right now. Families are weighing priorities. We are re-evaluating past decisions: what to save, what to spend, how to invest what precious savings we have left, and how to sustain a standard of living moving forward. How can we sustain what we have?
As much as anything, the Gospel lesson for this Sunday and for this moment is about SUSTAINABILITY. And I don’t mean sustainability as a fancy buzzword meaning photovoltaic cells or carbon footprints or melting ice caps – although that is part of it – No. What I mean by sustainability is whether we can continue to live now the same way we have lived in the past? Can we continue to live with the certainty that things will return to the way they used to be? The Gospel lesson for today says, NO. It’s going to be different… it’s going to be better…
Crisis and uncertainty was part of the Evangelist Mark’s world… the Temple in Jerusalem that had stood for generations was destroyed. People’s lives were disrupted by external forces they could not control. The Empire was making decisions that adversely affected them causing many to lose their homes and jobs. Such cataclysmic events made them question their faith in a just God.
Their hope rested on a promise that Jesus made to them that He would return. He would return as the one and only sovereign Lord who would make things right and bring justice and peace to an unjust and troubled world. Mark exhorted the people to remain alert for His return; hence, his familiar words, “Stay Awake!”
But, the Risen Christ didn’t come on time. At least He did not come on their timetable. The people had to make adjustments, take more responsibility for their actions in the midst of fear, and to sustain their faith and their lives without the immediate return of Jesus Christ. They had to learn what it meant to live “in the MEANTIME.”
You and I are still “in the MEANTIME.” We are being challenged in uncertain times to sustain our lives and the lives of others.
As you know, I have just returned from my sabbatical leave. About half of my leave time was spent in Maine. When you are up there that long you cannot help but be affected by the seasons and the tides. You notice the people of Maine: the lobstermen, the waitresses and waiters, the truck drivers and the dockworkers, and children and the families. You realize there are still many families who carve out a living on the outer islands of Maine such as Monhegan, Frenchboro and Matinicus.
Sustainability is a way of life for them. They struggle to keep their island life – their way of life for countless generations. For them sustainability is not about fancy light bulbs, grants from the State or gifts from wealthy summer people. For these year-round island people sustainability is about keeping their unique island culture. For them, it means providing for the mutual needs of the island community and for the careful stewardship of its finite resources. For them it means low-impact living, going barefoot until Thanksgiving or eating home-grown kelp until Christmas. It means hard, hard, work by all: men and women, young and old.
We can learn what sustainability is -- in hard times -- from Maine island people. I think church communities are like island communities. Christ Church is part of a vast archipelago we call the Episcopal Diocese of Massachusetts. We are connected but also separate islands; and it is the responsibility of Christian “islanders” to be sustainable, vital and viable. There is no bail-out for us. There is no TARP to bolster our endowment. Like those islanders in Maine, it is up to the Christ Church community to sustain the ministry built up in the past and to be, now more than ever, instruments of God’s peace in a broken, uncertain, and needy world.
There are tough headwinds blowing our way. How long they will last…we do not know. To weather the uncertain economic storms that may lie ahead we must act like an island community. Taking a page from these island people and looking ahead into the New Year, I believe we are called to sustain our common community life together; to sustain the vital ministries of worship, prayer and healing, and sustain the vital mission of outreach – now more than ever – to one another and to the wider community.
It won’t be easy. It will be hard work. It may be different than the way we’ve done things in the past. The contours of the Cross demand change. To pick up the Cross of Christ in difficult times is hard work… hard work by all. It will take all of us – men and women, young and old – to carry the Cross.
For us the Cross should not be a burden but a blessing… it symbolizes for us that life defeats death, love eclipses hate and hope overcomes fear. It is “the Bridge to Somewhere,” promised in Scripture… where all will be well and all manner of things will be well. That’s our faith… and that’s our hope…
And one thing more… it’s the most important thing. The promise of Advent is clear: God comes to us. During this season of Advent we will be distracted by many concerns and perplexed by what the future will hold; but, one thing is sure: God is coming to us. He is our Emmanuel….
Could it be? Yes, it could.
Something’s coming, something good,
If I can wait!
Something’s coming, I don’t know what it is,
But it is
Gonna be great!
Let us pray:
O God of the night and the day, the seasons and the tides, be with your people and sustain them with your grace and love. Look with favor upon those who seek to find you in their lives during uncertain times. Uphold them and enable them to continue the work of ministry and to go forth to be ambassadors of your most gracious will. All this we ask in the name of Jesus, our Emmanuel. Amen.
Let us pray: “Most gracious God be with us and give us the Spirit of Christ.” Amen.
Could be!
Who knows?
There’s something due any day;
I will know right away,
Soon as it shows.
It may come cannonballing down through the sky,
Gleam in its eye,
Bright as a rose!
These lyrics, of course, are from the musical West Side Story that premiered fifty years ago in New York City. The hero, Tony’s song, about something coming is apt for Advent since John the Baptist announces something’s coming, too.
The particular message in today’s Gospel from Mark is a clarion call is to stay alert, to be ready for a new reality when God’s Kingdom will be made known. It could not be any clearer: STAY AWAKE. But, right now, it is hard to be attentive and alert. Mighty things in the world distract us. We worry… we worry for our families… we worry for our friends and neighbors… we worry about a world caught up in a global economic crisis.
All of us are swept up in an economic whirlwind unprecedented in our generation. Diminishing investments, vaporizing 401K’s, rising unemployment, and imploding global markets—all make for a Perfect Storm of uncertainty and fear.
None of us are immunized from what’s happening right now. Families are weighing priorities. We are re-evaluating past decisions: what to save, what to spend, how to invest what precious savings we have left, and how to sustain a standard of living moving forward. How can we sustain what we have?
As much as anything, the Gospel lesson for this Sunday and for this moment is about SUSTAINABILITY. And I don’t mean sustainability as a fancy buzzword meaning photovoltaic cells or carbon footprints or melting ice caps – although that is part of it – No. What I mean by sustainability is whether we can continue to live now the same way we have lived in the past? Can we continue to live with the certainty that things will return to the way they used to be? The Gospel lesson for today says, NO. It’s going to be different… it’s going to be better…
Crisis and uncertainty was part of the Evangelist Mark’s world… the Temple in Jerusalem that had stood for generations was destroyed. People’s lives were disrupted by external forces they could not control. The Empire was making decisions that adversely affected them causing many to lose their homes and jobs. Such cataclysmic events made them question their faith in a just God.
Their hope rested on a promise that Jesus made to them that He would return. He would return as the one and only sovereign Lord who would make things right and bring justice and peace to an unjust and troubled world. Mark exhorted the people to remain alert for His return; hence, his familiar words, “Stay Awake!”
But, the Risen Christ didn’t come on time. At least He did not come on their timetable. The people had to make adjustments, take more responsibility for their actions in the midst of fear, and to sustain their faith and their lives without the immediate return of Jesus Christ. They had to learn what it meant to live “in the MEANTIME.”
You and I are still “in the MEANTIME.” We are being challenged in uncertain times to sustain our lives and the lives of others.
As you know, I have just returned from my sabbatical leave. About half of my leave time was spent in Maine. When you are up there that long you cannot help but be affected by the seasons and the tides. You notice the people of Maine: the lobstermen, the waitresses and waiters, the truck drivers and the dockworkers, and children and the families. You realize there are still many families who carve out a living on the outer islands of Maine such as Monhegan, Frenchboro and Matinicus.
Sustainability is a way of life for them. They struggle to keep their island life – their way of life for countless generations. For them sustainability is not about fancy light bulbs, grants from the State or gifts from wealthy summer people. For these year-round island people sustainability is about keeping their unique island culture. For them, it means providing for the mutual needs of the island community and for the careful stewardship of its finite resources. For them it means low-impact living, going barefoot until Thanksgiving or eating home-grown kelp until Christmas. It means hard, hard, work by all: men and women, young and old.
We can learn what sustainability is -- in hard times -- from Maine island people. I think church communities are like island communities. Christ Church is part of a vast archipelago we call the Episcopal Diocese of Massachusetts. We are connected but also separate islands; and it is the responsibility of Christian “islanders” to be sustainable, vital and viable. There is no bail-out for us. There is no TARP to bolster our endowment. Like those islanders in Maine, it is up to the Christ Church community to sustain the ministry built up in the past and to be, now more than ever, instruments of God’s peace in a broken, uncertain, and needy world.
There are tough headwinds blowing our way. How long they will last…we do not know. To weather the uncertain economic storms that may lie ahead we must act like an island community. Taking a page from these island people and looking ahead into the New Year, I believe we are called to sustain our common community life together; to sustain the vital ministries of worship, prayer and healing, and sustain the vital mission of outreach – now more than ever – to one another and to the wider community.
It won’t be easy. It will be hard work. It may be different than the way we’ve done things in the past. The contours of the Cross demand change. To pick up the Cross of Christ in difficult times is hard work… hard work by all. It will take all of us – men and women, young and old – to carry the Cross.
For us the Cross should not be a burden but a blessing… it symbolizes for us that life defeats death, love eclipses hate and hope overcomes fear. It is “the Bridge to Somewhere,” promised in Scripture… where all will be well and all manner of things will be well. That’s our faith… and that’s our hope…
And one thing more… it’s the most important thing. The promise of Advent is clear: God comes to us. During this season of Advent we will be distracted by many concerns and perplexed by what the future will hold; but, one thing is sure: God is coming to us. He is our Emmanuel….
Could it be? Yes, it could.
Something’s coming, something good,
If I can wait!
Something’s coming, I don’t know what it is,
But it is
Gonna be great!
Let us pray:
O God of the night and the day, the seasons and the tides, be with your people and sustain them with your grace and love. Look with favor upon those who seek to find you in their lives during uncertain times. Uphold them and enable them to continue the work of ministry and to go forth to be ambassadors of your most gracious will. All this we ask in the name of Jesus, our Emmanuel. Amen.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Christ the King - Peter Tierney
Last week, we heard Jesus teaching about God’s judgment in the parable of the talents, and I asked you to take away one idea in particular: Since God’s essential nature is love, God’s love judges everything in this world that goes against love. Love is the limit and the measure of God’s justice and judgment, which is why Jesus can teach that all the law and the prophets, the entire history of God’s dealings with the people of Israel, hang on the two great commandments: Love God and love your neighbor as yourself. That’s what God really cares about: do you love him, and do you love each other? The parable of the talents teaches us the consequences of our failure to love God; the failure to respond to the love that God has shown us. If we do not have love, if we do not invite the God who is love itself into our lives, then we have nothing; without love, our lives are empty and anguished.
But Jesus also teaches us that it’s not enough for all of us to run around loving God all by ourselves. We were not made to be discrete individuals captivated by the brilliance of our creator, with no mind for anything else; we were made to be social animals who share the love for our maker with each other, and in doing so, showing love to each other as well. Love is meant to bind us together, to knit us together into a great body in which all are cared for and valued. In fact, God is clear that unless we love one another, we can’t really say that we love him with any honesty, because we aren’t obeying his instructions to care for each other! God’s history with the people of Israel in the Old Testament is a long saga of God saying, “What good are your sacrifices and your religious observances and your claims that you love me when you ignore the plight of the poor, and the widows and the orphans?” God is always asking us, “How can you say you love me if you do not love the people I love?” God especially loves the weakest, the most helpless, and even the most useless people in the eyes of the world! God loves the starving children of Haiti; God loves the soldiers and the civilians in Iraq who have lost limbs and hands and feet in the war; God loves the homeless of Boston and God loves the men and women who have lost their minds in nursing homes, who need other people to feed and clothe them. God loves the people who are easiest for us to ignore, and God asks us to love them, too.
The Gospel we have heard today ties all of these things together: love of God, love of neighbor, God’s love for those the world would rather not love, and of course, judgment. All of them are brought together in Jesus Christ, the Son of Man, who is both our God and our neighbor—God and man together—and who will be our judge when he comes as the King of all the nations and peoples of the world. In the scene of Christ separating the sheep from the goats, the righteous from the accursed, we see and hear the judgment of love. Christ tells us that when we clothe the naked, or feed the hungry; when we welcome the stranger, or tend the sick, or visit the prisoner, we are doing all of those things for him, for the King of all creation. The righteous perform these acts of love, not because they seek to curry favor with their God and king, but because love has become part of their nature—loving those who need their love is just what they do.
The goats, the ones who are condemned to eternal punishment, are bewildered. When the King accuses them of neglect, they ask “Lord when was it that we saw you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked, or sick or in prison, and did not take care of you?” Of course, if they had seen the King in his glory, they would have done anything for him, but not out of love. If the goats knew what love was, if they had love in their hearts, they would already have given aid to the needy that Christ the King condemns them for neglecting. Godly love, the kind of love that God shows to us, and asks us to give to each other, does not take status or privilege or rank into account—it is indiscriminate, impartial. Godly love goes where it is needed, and we all need love.
And that’s the truth of this Gospel: the righteous sheep at Christ’s right hand, the ones who will inherit the kingdom of heaven, love the people who are in need and the King of glory at the same time. So, it’s not that God loves the poor and the needy more than everyone else; God loves them because God loves everything and everyone, and if God has a special love for those the world prefers not to love, well that’s because God’s love may be the only love they know. We are commanded to have love for everyone, not just the poor and the forgotten in the world. Our neighbor is anyone who crosses our path, including the actual neighbor who lives next door and blows leaves onto our lawn, the family members who insist that you travel 500 miles every year for Thanksgiving Dinner, the really annoying people in the supermarket who roll their carts down the middle of the aisles, instead of keeping to one side. More seriously, we are asked to love the people who have hurt us, the people who have rejected us, the people in whom we don’t see the possibility of love. We are asked to make love a way of life—that’s the righteousness that the King of Glory rewards in his judgment. And that’s one reason why we need to love God, because without God’s endless and boundless love helping us to live a life of love, we just don’t have the strength to love the people we’re supposed to love.
How are we to learn this depth of love? How can we possibly hope to love the way God wants us to love? Well, maybe we should start by learning from the one who will judge our efforts in the end. Jesus came to us teaching the law of love, healing the sick and helping the poor—living the life of love that God asks of all of us. And instead of being received by the world, acclaimed and hailed as a great teacher and miracle worker, he was met with fear, and suspicion, and ultimately hatred. The world rejected him, at first; some were drawn to the love and kindness he showed, but more were afraid of it, afraid of what it might mean for their power and privilege. And so they put Christ’s love on trial, the powers of the world stood in judgment over him, and they condemned him to die. And the people Jesus had loved, the ones he had shown his divine love to, most of them were too afraid to stay with him. The Son of God, the fullness of God’s love, was judged by humankind, and condemned, and nailed to a cross to die, abandoned by his friends. And what words did he have for his tormentors? “Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do.” The life of love is the way of the cross; there is no thanks or reward for it in this life—the way of love is its own reward.
The King that we are waiting for has been a prisoner, has been naked and thirsty. The Judge that we are waiting for knows what it means to be judged unjustly. Christ the King is Christ the Crucified; Jesus the Judge is Jesus the good shepherd; the God and Lord who will come to judge the living and the dead is also the child of Mary, who was born in a stable, on that first Christmas. God’s judgment has already been made—it is the judgment of love and forgiveness. We are guilty, all of us, of being unloving, but we can rely on the judge’s mercy: he has already forgiven us—all that is left is for us to come to him—again and again—to confess our guilt, and to ask for his assistance in living better, trying to follow him in the way of love. Come Lord Jesus, come O King of Love, and reign in our hearts.
But Jesus also teaches us that it’s not enough for all of us to run around loving God all by ourselves. We were not made to be discrete individuals captivated by the brilliance of our creator, with no mind for anything else; we were made to be social animals who share the love for our maker with each other, and in doing so, showing love to each other as well. Love is meant to bind us together, to knit us together into a great body in which all are cared for and valued. In fact, God is clear that unless we love one another, we can’t really say that we love him with any honesty, because we aren’t obeying his instructions to care for each other! God’s history with the people of Israel in the Old Testament is a long saga of God saying, “What good are your sacrifices and your religious observances and your claims that you love me when you ignore the plight of the poor, and the widows and the orphans?” God is always asking us, “How can you say you love me if you do not love the people I love?” God especially loves the weakest, the most helpless, and even the most useless people in the eyes of the world! God loves the starving children of Haiti; God loves the soldiers and the civilians in Iraq who have lost limbs and hands and feet in the war; God loves the homeless of Boston and God loves the men and women who have lost their minds in nursing homes, who need other people to feed and clothe them. God loves the people who are easiest for us to ignore, and God asks us to love them, too.
The Gospel we have heard today ties all of these things together: love of God, love of neighbor, God’s love for those the world would rather not love, and of course, judgment. All of them are brought together in Jesus Christ, the Son of Man, who is both our God and our neighbor—God and man together—and who will be our judge when he comes as the King of all the nations and peoples of the world. In the scene of Christ separating the sheep from the goats, the righteous from the accursed, we see and hear the judgment of love. Christ tells us that when we clothe the naked, or feed the hungry; when we welcome the stranger, or tend the sick, or visit the prisoner, we are doing all of those things for him, for the King of all creation. The righteous perform these acts of love, not because they seek to curry favor with their God and king, but because love has become part of their nature—loving those who need their love is just what they do.
The goats, the ones who are condemned to eternal punishment, are bewildered. When the King accuses them of neglect, they ask “Lord when was it that we saw you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked, or sick or in prison, and did not take care of you?” Of course, if they had seen the King in his glory, they would have done anything for him, but not out of love. If the goats knew what love was, if they had love in their hearts, they would already have given aid to the needy that Christ the King condemns them for neglecting. Godly love, the kind of love that God shows to us, and asks us to give to each other, does not take status or privilege or rank into account—it is indiscriminate, impartial. Godly love goes where it is needed, and we all need love.
And that’s the truth of this Gospel: the righteous sheep at Christ’s right hand, the ones who will inherit the kingdom of heaven, love the people who are in need and the King of glory at the same time. So, it’s not that God loves the poor and the needy more than everyone else; God loves them because God loves everything and everyone, and if God has a special love for those the world prefers not to love, well that’s because God’s love may be the only love they know. We are commanded to have love for everyone, not just the poor and the forgotten in the world. Our neighbor is anyone who crosses our path, including the actual neighbor who lives next door and blows leaves onto our lawn, the family members who insist that you travel 500 miles every year for Thanksgiving Dinner, the really annoying people in the supermarket who roll their carts down the middle of the aisles, instead of keeping to one side. More seriously, we are asked to love the people who have hurt us, the people who have rejected us, the people in whom we don’t see the possibility of love. We are asked to make love a way of life—that’s the righteousness that the King of Glory rewards in his judgment. And that’s one reason why we need to love God, because without God’s endless and boundless love helping us to live a life of love, we just don’t have the strength to love the people we’re supposed to love.
How are we to learn this depth of love? How can we possibly hope to love the way God wants us to love? Well, maybe we should start by learning from the one who will judge our efforts in the end. Jesus came to us teaching the law of love, healing the sick and helping the poor—living the life of love that God asks of all of us. And instead of being received by the world, acclaimed and hailed as a great teacher and miracle worker, he was met with fear, and suspicion, and ultimately hatred. The world rejected him, at first; some were drawn to the love and kindness he showed, but more were afraid of it, afraid of what it might mean for their power and privilege. And so they put Christ’s love on trial, the powers of the world stood in judgment over him, and they condemned him to die. And the people Jesus had loved, the ones he had shown his divine love to, most of them were too afraid to stay with him. The Son of God, the fullness of God’s love, was judged by humankind, and condemned, and nailed to a cross to die, abandoned by his friends. And what words did he have for his tormentors? “Forgive them, Father, for they know not what they do.” The life of love is the way of the cross; there is no thanks or reward for it in this life—the way of love is its own reward.
The King that we are waiting for has been a prisoner, has been naked and thirsty. The Judge that we are waiting for knows what it means to be judged unjustly. Christ the King is Christ the Crucified; Jesus the Judge is Jesus the good shepherd; the God and Lord who will come to judge the living and the dead is also the child of Mary, who was born in a stable, on that first Christmas. God’s judgment has already been made—it is the judgment of love and forgiveness. We are guilty, all of us, of being unloving, but we can rely on the judge’s mercy: he has already forgiven us—all that is left is for us to come to him—again and again—to confess our guilt, and to ask for his assistance in living better, trying to follow him in the way of love. Come Lord Jesus, come O King of Love, and reign in our hearts.
Sunday, November 16, 2008
Pentecost XXVII - Peter Tierney
Judgment. Wrath. Destruction and Darkness. Bitter Devastation. Weeping and Gnashing of teeth. We are told that these are the things the Day of the Lord will be filled with—the Day of God’s reckoning—the day of God’s judgment. It’s not a pretty picture: “I will bring such distress upon people that they shall walk like the blind; because they have sinned against the LORD, their blood shall be poured out like dust, and their flesh like dung.” Talk about a bleak image! The Day of the Lord is not comfortable, in fact, the biblical picture of the coming of God is downright terrifying.
And notice, this isn’t just the witness of dour Old Testament prophets like Zephaniah—the picture is no different in the New Testament, when Jesus himself is talking about the day of the Lord. The master of the parable of the talents, standing in for God, renders his judgment on the unproductive slave: “You wicked and lazy slave! . . . Take the talent from him, and give it to the one with the ten talents. For to all those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away. As for this worthless slave, throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” Jesus himself is right in line with the Old Testament prophets: God is a God of judgment, and on the last day, people will be called to give an account of their lives. In fact, Jesus is in on this judging thing, too—we’ll hear more about that next week. And every Sunday, we agree with him! We stand up after the sermon, and we say that line in the creed about Jesus coming to give judgment: “He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead.”
Does this sit well with you, this description of the Day of the Lord and the Judgment of God? Or does it make you shift a little bit in your seat, set your teeth on edge, so to speak? I know that it’s not what I want to hear about God as we get closer and closer to Turkey Day and looking forward to Christmas. I want to hear about the God who loves me, the God who created the world and called it good, who fills my life with blessings. I want to hear about the God who comes into the world as a cute little baby, the God of “silent night” and the Christmas Crib. I want to hear the easy things about God, the nice things about God: that’s what I want to hear; but I need to hear the harder things about God, too: I need to hear the whole truth about God. I need to be reminded that God is not all puppy dogs and rainbows; God is not just a warm fuzzy feeling—God is real, and God is powerful, and God loves with the world with a ferocious love that will not rest until we are what God has made us to be. God’s love is not indulgent affection: God’s love is like the love a mother has for her children when they are in danger—a love that will do anything to protect the loved one from harm.
We are not accustomed to thinking about love and judgment together; in fact, I suspect we’ve been trained to think about love as overcoming judgment: isn’t love about forgiveness? But judgment and forgiving aren’t opposed to each other—you can’t forgive someone unless you’ve judged that what they’ve done is wrong, and requires forgiveness. God is everything that we say about Him—God is full of love and compassion, forgiveness and mercy, but God is also a god of Justice. And if there’s one thing I want you to hear today, it’s that all of those things: God’s justice, God’s mercy, God’s forgiveness, and God’s judgment—all of it stems from God’s true and fundamental nature: God is love. And God’s love judges everything that goes against love. That’s the meaning of justice—justice is not about vengeance and punishment; God’s justice is about making room for real love to flourish and grow by removing the things that try to stamp it out.
Jesus teaches us that the greatest commandments are these: Love God and love your neighbor as yourself. Our senior warden Myra preached a fine sermon about those commandments just a few weeks ago. The judgment that we hear about in today’s lessons is mostly a judgment on our failure to love God—next week we will hear more about loving our neighbors, but for now, the focus is on God. Who are the ones undergoing judgment on the day of the Lord, according to Zephaniah? They are the ones who have contempt for God: “those who say in their hearts, ‘The LORD will not do good, nor will he do harm.’” According to Zephaniah, God’s judgment comes upon those who think God is irrelevant and uninvolved in their lives, it comes upon those whose lives are consumed with the accumulation of things and wealth and who care nothing for matters of the spirit: “Their wealth shall be plundered, and their houses laid waste. Though they build houses, they shall not inhabit them; though they plant vineyards, they shall not drink wine from them.” If all of our attention is on our material well-being, and not on what is pleasing to God, how can we say that we love God? If we think that God is impotent, that God will take no action, will do no good or harm, how can we say that we love God? If we are to really love God, then we have to act and behave as if God matters to us, we have to spend time talking to God, and listening to him, trusting him, and recognizing that God cares about everything we do.
But we also have to recognize that God cares out of love, and not out of a desire to catch us in our wrongdoing—God is not out to get us. And that’s the other obstacle to loving God, the obstacle we see illustrated in the parable of the talents. The problem with the slave who buries his master’s money isn’t that he doesn’t care what his master will do; the problem is that he is so afraid of his master that he completely misjudges the master’s character. The unproductive slave is so afraid of his master that there is no room for love; he is paralyzed by fear. When the master demands an account, the slave insults his master: “Master, I knew that you were a harsh man, reaping where you did not sow, and gathering where you did not scatter seed; so I was afraid.” We can do the same thing to God, we can convince ourselves that God is harsh and cruel and vindictive, and if that is how we approach God, without love for God in our hearts, should we be surprised if that is how God appears to us? If we are convinced that God is a terrible and awful and harsh judge, how can we say that we love God? How can we say we love God if we refuse to see that God is love?
The parable of the talents closes with that terribly hard verse that seems to go against so much of what we say and believe about a loving God: “For to all those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away.” Whatever happened to the God who loves and cares for the poor? Will that God take away what little they have? This verse makes no sense if we think it is talking about possessions, or money, but it makes perfect sense if it talking about love. When God calls us to account, and judges our lives—if we have no love to show from the love that God has given us—then we have nothing. But if our lives are full of love, if we are bursting with love, then we will filled with even more.
God is judging us, but the basis of God’s judgment is God’s love. And we know the fullness of God’s love in the life and death of Jesus Christ. I’m going to say a lot more about that next Sunday, when we celebrate the feast of Christ the King, but for now, I want to leave you with some words from St. Paul about God’s judgment, and about how we are to support each other in faith and love as disciples of Jesus: “God has destined us not for wrath but for obtaining salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ, who died for us, so that whether we are awake or asleep we may live with him. Therefore encourage one another and build up each other, as indeed you are doing.”
And notice, this isn’t just the witness of dour Old Testament prophets like Zephaniah—the picture is no different in the New Testament, when Jesus himself is talking about the day of the Lord. The master of the parable of the talents, standing in for God, renders his judgment on the unproductive slave: “You wicked and lazy slave! . . . Take the talent from him, and give it to the one with the ten talents. For to all those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away. As for this worthless slave, throw him into the outer darkness, where there will be weeping and gnashing of teeth.” Jesus himself is right in line with the Old Testament prophets: God is a God of judgment, and on the last day, people will be called to give an account of their lives. In fact, Jesus is in on this judging thing, too—we’ll hear more about that next week. And every Sunday, we agree with him! We stand up after the sermon, and we say that line in the creed about Jesus coming to give judgment: “He will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead.”
Does this sit well with you, this description of the Day of the Lord and the Judgment of God? Or does it make you shift a little bit in your seat, set your teeth on edge, so to speak? I know that it’s not what I want to hear about God as we get closer and closer to Turkey Day and looking forward to Christmas. I want to hear about the God who loves me, the God who created the world and called it good, who fills my life with blessings. I want to hear about the God who comes into the world as a cute little baby, the God of “silent night” and the Christmas Crib. I want to hear the easy things about God, the nice things about God: that’s what I want to hear; but I need to hear the harder things about God, too: I need to hear the whole truth about God. I need to be reminded that God is not all puppy dogs and rainbows; God is not just a warm fuzzy feeling—God is real, and God is powerful, and God loves with the world with a ferocious love that will not rest until we are what God has made us to be. God’s love is not indulgent affection: God’s love is like the love a mother has for her children when they are in danger—a love that will do anything to protect the loved one from harm.
We are not accustomed to thinking about love and judgment together; in fact, I suspect we’ve been trained to think about love as overcoming judgment: isn’t love about forgiveness? But judgment and forgiving aren’t opposed to each other—you can’t forgive someone unless you’ve judged that what they’ve done is wrong, and requires forgiveness. God is everything that we say about Him—God is full of love and compassion, forgiveness and mercy, but God is also a god of Justice. And if there’s one thing I want you to hear today, it’s that all of those things: God’s justice, God’s mercy, God’s forgiveness, and God’s judgment—all of it stems from God’s true and fundamental nature: God is love. And God’s love judges everything that goes against love. That’s the meaning of justice—justice is not about vengeance and punishment; God’s justice is about making room for real love to flourish and grow by removing the things that try to stamp it out.
Jesus teaches us that the greatest commandments are these: Love God and love your neighbor as yourself. Our senior warden Myra preached a fine sermon about those commandments just a few weeks ago. The judgment that we hear about in today’s lessons is mostly a judgment on our failure to love God—next week we will hear more about loving our neighbors, but for now, the focus is on God. Who are the ones undergoing judgment on the day of the Lord, according to Zephaniah? They are the ones who have contempt for God: “those who say in their hearts, ‘The LORD will not do good, nor will he do harm.’” According to Zephaniah, God’s judgment comes upon those who think God is irrelevant and uninvolved in their lives, it comes upon those whose lives are consumed with the accumulation of things and wealth and who care nothing for matters of the spirit: “Their wealth shall be plundered, and their houses laid waste. Though they build houses, they shall not inhabit them; though they plant vineyards, they shall not drink wine from them.” If all of our attention is on our material well-being, and not on what is pleasing to God, how can we say that we love God? If we think that God is impotent, that God will take no action, will do no good or harm, how can we say that we love God? If we are to really love God, then we have to act and behave as if God matters to us, we have to spend time talking to God, and listening to him, trusting him, and recognizing that God cares about everything we do.
But we also have to recognize that God cares out of love, and not out of a desire to catch us in our wrongdoing—God is not out to get us. And that’s the other obstacle to loving God, the obstacle we see illustrated in the parable of the talents. The problem with the slave who buries his master’s money isn’t that he doesn’t care what his master will do; the problem is that he is so afraid of his master that he completely misjudges the master’s character. The unproductive slave is so afraid of his master that there is no room for love; he is paralyzed by fear. When the master demands an account, the slave insults his master: “Master, I knew that you were a harsh man, reaping where you did not sow, and gathering where you did not scatter seed; so I was afraid.” We can do the same thing to God, we can convince ourselves that God is harsh and cruel and vindictive, and if that is how we approach God, without love for God in our hearts, should we be surprised if that is how God appears to us? If we are convinced that God is a terrible and awful and harsh judge, how can we say that we love God? How can we say we love God if we refuse to see that God is love?
The parable of the talents closes with that terribly hard verse that seems to go against so much of what we say and believe about a loving God: “For to all those who have, more will be given, and they will have an abundance; but from those who have nothing, even what they have will be taken away.” Whatever happened to the God who loves and cares for the poor? Will that God take away what little they have? This verse makes no sense if we think it is talking about possessions, or money, but it makes perfect sense if it talking about love. When God calls us to account, and judges our lives—if we have no love to show from the love that God has given us—then we have nothing. But if our lives are full of love, if we are bursting with love, then we will filled with even more.
God is judging us, but the basis of God’s judgment is God’s love. And we know the fullness of God’s love in the life and death of Jesus Christ. I’m going to say a lot more about that next Sunday, when we celebrate the feast of Christ the King, but for now, I want to leave you with some words from St. Paul about God’s judgment, and about how we are to support each other in faith and love as disciples of Jesus: “God has destined us not for wrath but for obtaining salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ, who died for us, so that whether we are awake or asleep we may live with him. Therefore encourage one another and build up each other, as indeed you are doing.”
Sunday, October 26, 2008
Pentecost XXIV - Myra Anderson
Take my lips and speak through them. Take our minds and think with them. Take our hearts and set them on fire. Amen.
When I sat down to write my sermon this week, I realized I’m pretty lucky.
First, I don’t have to talk to you about money. Doug Ounanian did a nice job of laying out the budget for next year. He asked all of us to make whatever financial commitment to the church that we can to meet our needs.
Second, I don’t have to find words to describe the spiritual fulfillment that comes from making a commitment to God’s church. Isabelle Nickerson recounted her stewardship journey – her faith journey – and the impact it has had on her life here at Christ Church.
Finally, I didn’t have to search high and low for some clever story to jump start my creative juices. Jesus himself steps up to the plate in today’s Gospel when he gives us the Great Commandment.
So the advantage to me is clear. The advantage to you is this: my sermon today will be mercifully brief.
Today’s Gospel is of course the cornerstone of how we live out our Christian faith. It’s the Great Commandment, Charlie Brown:
“You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: you shall love your neighbor as yourself.” Jesus tells us if we keep these commandments, everything else in our life falls into place.
Now, the way I understand it – and remember, a theology degree was not a requirement to run for warden, just a pulse – the Great Commandment has three parts. First, love God. Second, accept God’s love and love yourself; and third, share that love with others.
I know I do, and I think sometimes as a church, we tend to focus on what has become -- for our society as a whole – the safe part of this commandment: love your neighbor as yourself. After all, that’s another iteration of the Golden Rule: Do unto others as you would have others do unto you. Even if you don’t believe in God, you probably adhere to that rule, or try to at least. Maybe not always: the news is so dire these days, perhaps we could have used a bit more adherence to the Golden Rule in the last few years. But for the most part I’m going to be optimistic and believe that most people want to show compassion for their neighbor and help those in need. A good friend of mine is fond of saying, “I’m not really sure about identifying myself as a Christian, but I do believe that if everybody acted more like Jesus, the world would be a better place.”
And the work we do to love our neighbors in our church community is important. We help feed, shelter and clothe the homeless and the destitute every day. We bring medical care to villagers in Haiti twice a year. Our parish partnership helps educate Haitian children. We care for our own community through Pastoral Care and informally through our own networks we’ve formed over the years. We come together in fellowship in large and small groups. We exchange a smile, a handshake, kind words, maybe share a meal – small gestures that show our love for one another. Yes, we can do more, and there’s so much more to do. I believe we strive every day here at Christ Church to find ways we can do more to love our neighbors as ourselves.Where I think we could focus, if I may be so bold, is the FIRST part of the commandment, the “greatest and first commandment” as Jesus reminds us. That is, to love God with all our hearts, and with all our souls and with all our minds. This is the essence of who we are as believers, as people of God. This is what separates us from the secular Golden Rule followers. As believers, we can witness and experience the deeper, life-changing love that happens between us and God. And I believe it could make all the difference in the life of our congregation if we really focus on loving God, and accepting God’s love in return. It will only strengthen the love we offer to others.
I don’t know about you, but I sometimes find in my social circle outside church, it can be awkward when people realize you’re a Christian. I once had a guy say to me at a dinner party, “I don’t get it – how can you believe in God and be a Christian when you’re so well-educated?” What do you say to that? I’m sure he could accept my struggle to adhere to the Golden Rule. But he was puzzled by my desire to love God and to know God’s love.
It seems that loving one’s neighbor is intellectually acceptable, it’s even empirically reasonable in our concrete world. It’s also trendy – there are many important secular charities out there, thank God. Without the underlying truth of God’s love and loving God, though, “loving your neighbor” can also be subsumed by the crazy demands and routines of one’s daily life. All of our weaknesses and anxieties can get in the way. I can’t help thinking that commitment to helping others is strongest and most sustainable when you buy off on the package deal: love God first, say yes to God’s love and love yourself – and yes, love your neighbor.
Now here’s the stewardship part: when I was home in Arkansas this summer (you knew I’d slip a back-home story in there somewhere), I visited my step-mother Sue’s independent church, a “bible-based church” they call it. Arkansas is full of them. It’s mostly Baptists who have left the main-line churches and started these congregations in their living rooms. Many, like Sue’s, have grown into big campuses with hundreds or even thousands of faithful follwers – this in a town roughly only twice the size of Needham. Sue’s church is what we would label “evangelical”, but it’s pretty humble in its mission. It doesn’t follow the tendency of some of these churches to assume God is a God of absolutes and political agendas. But that is neither here nor there, and not my focus today.
Here is what I want you to consider: how they grew. Despite the same hectic schedules as we all face, and even greater economic pressures, Sue’s church grew into the vibrant and yes, outreach-oriented community that they are today for one reason: they all put God first in everything they do.
Naturally I had my warden hat on while I was there. I was so impressed with all of the churches there, and the good work that they do. So I asked Sue about their annual giving campaign. I figured it had to be full of bells and whistles and clever slogans to get people to give at the level they were obviously giving. That church had a lot going on, and was still growing.
But Sue looked at me with a somewhat puzzled expression. You know what she said? It blew me away. She said, quite simply, “We tithe, or as close to it as we can. I mean, everyone has different circumstances, but we all try to tithe.” My response was probably your response: “Really?? Why??”
“Because that’s what God asks of us, and we trust God.” End of discussion.
Now I believe that loving God, and all that follows from that, is what brings us together as a church community. We come from different parts of the country, different denominations, different faith journeys. We tend to separate our church time along different interests, different passions. We have varying and sometimes even opposing preferences for worship, music, budget priorities, outreach commitments. Sometimes these differences do distract us from what brings us together in the first place.
What keeps us together is our common desire to know God and to love God with all our hearts and with all our souls and with all our minds. If we focus on that common desire, it should be enough to sustain us through whatever challenges we now face and will face in the future -- challenges to our national church, our diocese and our congregation. If we let the love that we have for God and God has for us fill us and begin to come out of us and fill each other, imagine what we can do together, and what it will do for us.
I’ll end today with a vision for the future. Louise Packard is the Executive Director of Trinity Boston Foundation. That’s an umbrella organization for a diverse group of outreach programs started by Trinity Church in Boston. Louise used to be Stewardship Director for Trinity. A couple of years ago, she joined us for the day at a Vestry retreat to talk about stewardship. After a day of soul searching and agonizing over budgets and pledge drives and how to get people to give more to the church and how to get by with less, Louise asked us all to close our eyes. And that’s what I’ll ask you to do now. Close your eyes and imagine if our annual revenues suddenly doubled. If paying the heating bill and salaries and maintaining the building were no longer concerns. What if we had more money and more volunteers than we knew what to do with? What would we do? Where would the love lead us? Amen.
When I sat down to write my sermon this week, I realized I’m pretty lucky.
First, I don’t have to talk to you about money. Doug Ounanian did a nice job of laying out the budget for next year. He asked all of us to make whatever financial commitment to the church that we can to meet our needs.
Second, I don’t have to find words to describe the spiritual fulfillment that comes from making a commitment to God’s church. Isabelle Nickerson recounted her stewardship journey – her faith journey – and the impact it has had on her life here at Christ Church.
Finally, I didn’t have to search high and low for some clever story to jump start my creative juices. Jesus himself steps up to the plate in today’s Gospel when he gives us the Great Commandment.
So the advantage to me is clear. The advantage to you is this: my sermon today will be mercifully brief.
Today’s Gospel is of course the cornerstone of how we live out our Christian faith. It’s the Great Commandment, Charlie Brown:
“You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: you shall love your neighbor as yourself.” Jesus tells us if we keep these commandments, everything else in our life falls into place.
Now, the way I understand it – and remember, a theology degree was not a requirement to run for warden, just a pulse – the Great Commandment has three parts. First, love God. Second, accept God’s love and love yourself; and third, share that love with others.
I know I do, and I think sometimes as a church, we tend to focus on what has become -- for our society as a whole – the safe part of this commandment: love your neighbor as yourself. After all, that’s another iteration of the Golden Rule: Do unto others as you would have others do unto you. Even if you don’t believe in God, you probably adhere to that rule, or try to at least. Maybe not always: the news is so dire these days, perhaps we could have used a bit more adherence to the Golden Rule in the last few years. But for the most part I’m going to be optimistic and believe that most people want to show compassion for their neighbor and help those in need. A good friend of mine is fond of saying, “I’m not really sure about identifying myself as a Christian, but I do believe that if everybody acted more like Jesus, the world would be a better place.”
And the work we do to love our neighbors in our church community is important. We help feed, shelter and clothe the homeless and the destitute every day. We bring medical care to villagers in Haiti twice a year. Our parish partnership helps educate Haitian children. We care for our own community through Pastoral Care and informally through our own networks we’ve formed over the years. We come together in fellowship in large and small groups. We exchange a smile, a handshake, kind words, maybe share a meal – small gestures that show our love for one another. Yes, we can do more, and there’s so much more to do. I believe we strive every day here at Christ Church to find ways we can do more to love our neighbors as ourselves.Where I think we could focus, if I may be so bold, is the FIRST part of the commandment, the “greatest and first commandment” as Jesus reminds us. That is, to love God with all our hearts, and with all our souls and with all our minds. This is the essence of who we are as believers, as people of God. This is what separates us from the secular Golden Rule followers. As believers, we can witness and experience the deeper, life-changing love that happens between us and God. And I believe it could make all the difference in the life of our congregation if we really focus on loving God, and accepting God’s love in return. It will only strengthen the love we offer to others.
I don’t know about you, but I sometimes find in my social circle outside church, it can be awkward when people realize you’re a Christian. I once had a guy say to me at a dinner party, “I don’t get it – how can you believe in God and be a Christian when you’re so well-educated?” What do you say to that? I’m sure he could accept my struggle to adhere to the Golden Rule. But he was puzzled by my desire to love God and to know God’s love.
It seems that loving one’s neighbor is intellectually acceptable, it’s even empirically reasonable in our concrete world. It’s also trendy – there are many important secular charities out there, thank God. Without the underlying truth of God’s love and loving God, though, “loving your neighbor” can also be subsumed by the crazy demands and routines of one’s daily life. All of our weaknesses and anxieties can get in the way. I can’t help thinking that commitment to helping others is strongest and most sustainable when you buy off on the package deal: love God first, say yes to God’s love and love yourself – and yes, love your neighbor.
Now here’s the stewardship part: when I was home in Arkansas this summer (you knew I’d slip a back-home story in there somewhere), I visited my step-mother Sue’s independent church, a “bible-based church” they call it. Arkansas is full of them. It’s mostly Baptists who have left the main-line churches and started these congregations in their living rooms. Many, like Sue’s, have grown into big campuses with hundreds or even thousands of faithful follwers – this in a town roughly only twice the size of Needham. Sue’s church is what we would label “evangelical”, but it’s pretty humble in its mission. It doesn’t follow the tendency of some of these churches to assume God is a God of absolutes and political agendas. But that is neither here nor there, and not my focus today.
Here is what I want you to consider: how they grew. Despite the same hectic schedules as we all face, and even greater economic pressures, Sue’s church grew into the vibrant and yes, outreach-oriented community that they are today for one reason: they all put God first in everything they do.
Naturally I had my warden hat on while I was there. I was so impressed with all of the churches there, and the good work that they do. So I asked Sue about their annual giving campaign. I figured it had to be full of bells and whistles and clever slogans to get people to give at the level they were obviously giving. That church had a lot going on, and was still growing.
But Sue looked at me with a somewhat puzzled expression. You know what she said? It blew me away. She said, quite simply, “We tithe, or as close to it as we can. I mean, everyone has different circumstances, but we all try to tithe.” My response was probably your response: “Really?? Why??”
“Because that’s what God asks of us, and we trust God.” End of discussion.
Now I believe that loving God, and all that follows from that, is what brings us together as a church community. We come from different parts of the country, different denominations, different faith journeys. We tend to separate our church time along different interests, different passions. We have varying and sometimes even opposing preferences for worship, music, budget priorities, outreach commitments. Sometimes these differences do distract us from what brings us together in the first place.
What keeps us together is our common desire to know God and to love God with all our hearts and with all our souls and with all our minds. If we focus on that common desire, it should be enough to sustain us through whatever challenges we now face and will face in the future -- challenges to our national church, our diocese and our congregation. If we let the love that we have for God and God has for us fill us and begin to come out of us and fill each other, imagine what we can do together, and what it will do for us.
I’ll end today with a vision for the future. Louise Packard is the Executive Director of Trinity Boston Foundation. That’s an umbrella organization for a diverse group of outreach programs started by Trinity Church in Boston. Louise used to be Stewardship Director for Trinity. A couple of years ago, she joined us for the day at a Vestry retreat to talk about stewardship. After a day of soul searching and agonizing over budgets and pledge drives and how to get people to give more to the church and how to get by with less, Louise asked us all to close our eyes. And that’s what I’ll ask you to do now. Close your eyes and imagine if our annual revenues suddenly doubled. If paying the heating bill and salaries and maintaining the building were no longer concerns. What if we had more money and more volunteers than we knew what to do with? What would we do? Where would the love lead us? Amen.
Sunday, October 19, 2008
Pentecost XXIII - Isabel Nickerson
Dear God, I pray that the words I speak today will be your words and that the words that are heard will give honor and glory to you. All this I ask in the name of Jesus, our Lord and Savior. Amen
In the Gospel lesson today, Jesus was asked a question which was meant to entrap him. During this election season, we are very familiar with that kind of questioning. Jesus was asked if is lawful to pay taxes. Either way Jesus answered, he was in trouble. To say yes would have offended some – to say no would have been considered treasonous. Instead of answering the question, Jesus asked for a coin used to pay taxes. Jesus asked whose head and title was on the coin. Those who asked the question knew the answer – it was the emperor’s. Jesus then said, “Give to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s and to God the things that are God’s.” Upon hearing Jesus’s answer, the people were amazed and went away.
So many gospel stories (parables) are like this. Jesus turns the question around. Sometimes Jesus’s answer just provokes more questions. Jesus never says what is God’s in the story.
We believe that God is the giver of all things. All that we have and all that we are is a gift of God’s generosity and grace – a symbol of God’s love for us. God is the giver and we are the receiver.
It seems to me that in Jesus answer, Jesus also acknowledges that we all have obligations that must be honored. We pay taxes and we have financial responsibilities that must be paid. Taking that into consideration, we are to give back to God a portion of what he has given to us with cheerful and thankful hearts.
The dictionary defines Stewardship as the responsible management of what is entrusted to us. It is time, talent and treasure.
My understanding of stewardship has been a work in progress. As a 12 year old at Christ Church, it was so easy. I got a $1.00 allowance; my parents expected to put a dime into the envelope. It seemed so simple then.
As a young married couple with small children, money was tight. On Saturday nights, we often were looking for money to put into our envelope. During one bible study group, a friend shared the concept of giving from the top rather than from what was left over. First Fruits had new meaning for us. Our pledge became a line item on our budget and we felt that we had come a long way. We knew that we were doing very well in the time and talent areas; we knew that our giving was short.
Years later, we heard a sermon that changed our understanding. It was titled “Strive to Tithe”. When we went home and actually did the math our pledge didn’t look good. We decided to give 2% that year and to try to increase the percentage yearly. It was important for us to examine our stewardship with our minds as well as our hearts.
Christ Church was the center of the life of the Nickerson Family and continues to be the center of my life today. The church is the backdrop of the happiest and saddest times of our life. My husband Paul and I were confirmed here. Our five children were baptized here, confirmed here and some were married here. I reflect with joy on the Church School, 1st Communion Classes, 4:00 Children’s Easter Services, Family Camp, Camp Hokey Pokey, Wednesday Afternoon Children’s Lenten Programs, youth group and countless other programs and activities that kept us busy and involved and close to God. I reflect with pride when I recall our children serving as acolytes, performing in Christmas Pageants and Jesus Christ Superstar. I remember Paul waking us up at dawn on Wednesdays during Lent so we could attend the 7 A.M. service as a family. Years later, when Beth was a young adult, I remember her meeting me at 7 A.M. to attend those services. Our parents were buried from here as was our son and my husband. It was our friends and church family who walked with us through the best and worst of times. They loved us, prayed with us, laughed with us, cried with us and cared for us in every way. Bob lovingly named our church family the God Squad, a fitting honor and compliment then and now.
As a church, we strive to bring ALL closer to Christ through worship, study, fellowship, prayer and service. We are to serve and be served. In our baptismal vows, we pledge to seek and serve Christ in all persons. We are His hands and feet in the world today as we care for each other at church and in the world.
As members of Christ Church, we are proud and thankful for all that is being given and done here and for all that ways that we reach out to others.
I remember the beginning of the space age. There was always a great celebration for the success of a flight. Without the integrity and stability of the launch pad, the flight would have been cancelled. Christ Church is the launching pad of our lives. Without the strength, integrity and financial stability of this place, we probably won’t be able to continue to do God’s work in the same way here or in the world.
Stewardship is the responsible management of what has been entrusted to us. Jesus instructed us to give to God what is God’s. As members of the Christ Church God Squad, how will you respond to Jesus this year? Amen
In the Gospel lesson today, Jesus was asked a question which was meant to entrap him. During this election season, we are very familiar with that kind of questioning. Jesus was asked if is lawful to pay taxes. Either way Jesus answered, he was in trouble. To say yes would have offended some – to say no would have been considered treasonous. Instead of answering the question, Jesus asked for a coin used to pay taxes. Jesus asked whose head and title was on the coin. Those who asked the question knew the answer – it was the emperor’s. Jesus then said, “Give to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s and to God the things that are God’s.” Upon hearing Jesus’s answer, the people were amazed and went away.
So many gospel stories (parables) are like this. Jesus turns the question around. Sometimes Jesus’s answer just provokes more questions. Jesus never says what is God’s in the story.
We believe that God is the giver of all things. All that we have and all that we are is a gift of God’s generosity and grace – a symbol of God’s love for us. God is the giver and we are the receiver.
It seems to me that in Jesus answer, Jesus also acknowledges that we all have obligations that must be honored. We pay taxes and we have financial responsibilities that must be paid. Taking that into consideration, we are to give back to God a portion of what he has given to us with cheerful and thankful hearts.
The dictionary defines Stewardship as the responsible management of what is entrusted to us. It is time, talent and treasure.
My understanding of stewardship has been a work in progress. As a 12 year old at Christ Church, it was so easy. I got a $1.00 allowance; my parents expected to put a dime into the envelope. It seemed so simple then.
As a young married couple with small children, money was tight. On Saturday nights, we often were looking for money to put into our envelope. During one bible study group, a friend shared the concept of giving from the top rather than from what was left over. First Fruits had new meaning for us. Our pledge became a line item on our budget and we felt that we had come a long way. We knew that we were doing very well in the time and talent areas; we knew that our giving was short.
Years later, we heard a sermon that changed our understanding. It was titled “Strive to Tithe”. When we went home and actually did the math our pledge didn’t look good. We decided to give 2% that year and to try to increase the percentage yearly. It was important for us to examine our stewardship with our minds as well as our hearts.
Christ Church was the center of the life of the Nickerson Family and continues to be the center of my life today. The church is the backdrop of the happiest and saddest times of our life. My husband Paul and I were confirmed here. Our five children were baptized here, confirmed here and some were married here. I reflect with joy on the Church School, 1st Communion Classes, 4:00 Children’s Easter Services, Family Camp, Camp Hokey Pokey, Wednesday Afternoon Children’s Lenten Programs, youth group and countless other programs and activities that kept us busy and involved and close to God. I reflect with pride when I recall our children serving as acolytes, performing in Christmas Pageants and Jesus Christ Superstar. I remember Paul waking us up at dawn on Wednesdays during Lent so we could attend the 7 A.M. service as a family. Years later, when Beth was a young adult, I remember her meeting me at 7 A.M. to attend those services. Our parents were buried from here as was our son and my husband. It was our friends and church family who walked with us through the best and worst of times. They loved us, prayed with us, laughed with us, cried with us and cared for us in every way. Bob lovingly named our church family the God Squad, a fitting honor and compliment then and now.
As a church, we strive to bring ALL closer to Christ through worship, study, fellowship, prayer and service. We are to serve and be served. In our baptismal vows, we pledge to seek and serve Christ in all persons. We are His hands and feet in the world today as we care for each other at church and in the world.
As members of Christ Church, we are proud and thankful for all that is being given and done here and for all that ways that we reach out to others.
I remember the beginning of the space age. There was always a great celebration for the success of a flight. Without the integrity and stability of the launch pad, the flight would have been cancelled. Christ Church is the launching pad of our lives. Without the strength, integrity and financial stability of this place, we probably won’t be able to continue to do God’s work in the same way here or in the world.
Stewardship is the responsible management of what has been entrusted to us. Jesus instructed us to give to God what is God’s. As members of the Christ Church God Squad, how will you respond to Jesus this year? Amen
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