Christ our Freedom is God’s Christmas Promise
Luke 2:1-20
2010 will be a census year for us, with all the multitudes of the United States counted. The registration that caused Joseph and Mary to travel to Bethlehem was another kind of census, but while our census serves an important purpose in the life of our nation and our government, I can assure you that Caesar’s census had nothing to do with determining proportional representation in the Roman Empire. No—the Emperor’s purposes for counting the people in the empire likely had more to do with questions like “How many people do I rule over?” “Where do most of them live, and are they being taxed accordingly?” “From where can I raise more legions, and where do I need to send the legions that I have recruited?” Caesar’s census was about control, about measuring power and the means to maintain power. To the mighty Roman Emperor, the little child born in Bethlehem was just another statistic, another jot on the tally sheet of subjects dominated by the power of Rome. There are nations today where census taking is more akin to the Roman census than it is to the U.S. census, where people are counted in order to be controlled. The world Jesus was born into was a dangerous place, and our world can still be dangerous—the boots of tramping warriors and the rods of oppressors have not passed away from the world, and the yoke of oppression still lies heavy on the shoulders of many people. The world of Jesus’ day needed a savior, and our day too looks for this salvation.
God has promised, in the words of the prophet Isaiah, that all oppression will be cast off, that the rods of unjust rulers will be broken, that people who live in darkness will see a great light. God promises that a savior has been sent. But God’s answer to the Caesars of the world is not the answer the world expected in Jesus’ day, and I daresay it is not the answer you and I would come up with if left to our own devices. Against the legions of Caesar, against tyrants of every age, God sends—not a strong and sturdy warrior, not a second Samson—but an infant, born in a stable. God’s answer to all the abuses of power in the world is a newborn infant, wrapped in bands of cloth, crying for his first meal at his mother’s breast.
It makes no sense to the human mind, and Jesus’ birth passed almost without notice in his own day—on that first Christmas, the Emperor Augustus was not quaking in fear that his empire would crumble and fall because of this baby. But God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength. Before the yoke of rulers and injustice can be broken, there is another enemy to be confronted, another form of oppression to be cast off—and that is the enemy within, the disorder of our desires; the passions that cause us to seek our own advantage over the needs of others, the selfish and self-centred impulses that we all feel and struggle against. The first enemy that Jesus comes to overthrow is the enemy that God and the Church have named sin—the tyrant of our hearts that seeks to rule over us and bend our will away from godliness and upright living, the enemy that encourages laziness when we can get away with it, undue pride in our accomplishments, anger against our neighbors, and envy of others’ good fortune.
Against the oppression of sin, the infant Jesus is the perfect conqueror, for what is more likely to inspire us to want to live a better life than a newborn child, with all the potential and promise of a new life? What parent doesn’t want to be a better person for the sake of her child? We may not always be able to live up to those noble aspirations, and children can be an aggravation as well as an inspiration, but the newborn Christ-child embodies the hope for new life in all of us. In the baby Jesus of the Christmas crib, the grace of God has appeared; and when Christ is born in our hearts, he inspires us to live lives that are upright and self-controlled, concerned with others needs and God’s desires before our own.
Once Christ has won the victory over sin—our spiritual oppression—the victory over tyranny and worldly oppression cannot be far behind, because the one relies on the other. Tyranny and corruption cannot last in the face of honesty and righteousness, the unjust ruler always relies on the self-interest of allies and subordinates. If someone can’t be bought or bribed or rewarded for loyalty, then the only tools that remain for the tyrant are threats and violence. But Jesus has overcome that power as well—not only as a child, but as a man. We have gathered here not only to celebrate Christmas, but to share the Easter meal—our holy communion—in which we remember that Jesus died for us and rose again to live forever and to share his eternal life with those who believe in him. And if we have been given the gift of Jesus’ life, then death can have no hold over us, unless we allow it. And if the followers of Jesus do not fear death, then what power do the tyrants of the world have anymore? Their rod has been broken, their oppression is lifted, because it is an illusion and a fantasy compared to the love and mercy of God. The world remains a dangerous place, but no matter what happens to us in this life, we have the confidence of new and greater life in Christ’s gifts of grace and love.
For the sake of one innocent life, God has redeemed the world. Jesus Christ, born today, is the victory over the enemy of our souls and the enemy of our bodies, he has overcome both sin and death, and he will share his victory with us if we trust in him and follow him as our lord and our God. God has kept his promise, he has sent us a savior: Christ the Lord. So come and worship, come and worship, worship Christ our newborn King!
Friday, December 25, 2009
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Christmas Eve - Skip Windsor
Luke 2:1-20
In the Shadow of the Manger
Every year at Christmas, we hear the story of Jesus’ birth according to the Gospel of Luke. As an historian Luke is very careful to place the Nativity of our Lord within the context of world history. We hear about the rulers of the time and the evangelist is explicit in making the point that the birth of one small child in Bethlehem occurs in the midst of timeless turmoil – war and rumors of war, economic disparity, and persecution and oppression.
It is in this historical context that Luke writes the immortal words of hope: “Today a Savior has been born! He is Christ the Lord” (2:11). Our Christian faith tells us that God came into the world in an unexpected way – God did not come into the world as a prince but as a pauper. God did not come into the world as a powerful warrior but as a vulnerable baby. God did not come into the world to be the leader of the principalities and powers but to save and rescue the world from sin and death. God came to be with you and me.
The 20th century poet, Robinson Jeffers, writes:
The mystery of Christmas is about the majesty of God who loves us so much that God became one of us in Jesus; and the simplest way for me to understand this mystery is to share a story with you.
Once upon a Christmas Eve, a man sat in reflective silence before the fireplace, pondering the meaning of Christmas. “There is no point to God who becomes man,” he mused. “Why would an all-powerful God want to share even one of His precious moments with the likes of humanity? And even if he did, why would he choose to be born in an animal stall? No way! The whole idea is absurd! I’m sure that if God really wanted to come down to earth, He would have chosen some other way.”
Suddenly, the man was roused from his ruminations by a strange sound outside. He went to the window and saw a small gaggle of Canadian geese frantically honking and aimlessly flopping about in the snow. They seemed disoriented and dazed. Apparently, they had dropped out of exhaustion from the flight formation of a larger flock on its way from north of Newfoundland to the warmer climes of the Gulf of Mexico.
Moved with compassion, the man tried to shoo the poor geese into his warm garage; but the more he shooed the more they panicked. “If they only realized I’m only trying to do what’s best for them,” he thought to himself. “How can I make them understand my concern for their well-being?” Then, this thought came to him: “If for just one minute, I could become one of them, an ordinary goose, and communicate with them in their own language, they would know what I’m trying to do.”
And suddenly, he remembered Christmas and a smile came over his face. Suddenly, the Christmas story no longer seemed absurd. Suddenly, he pictured that ordinary-looking infant, lying in a manger, in the stable in Bethlehem, and he knew the answer to his Christmas question: God had become one of us to tell us He loves us and to point us home.
As I have reflected upon this story, the more I think it is a parable of Christmas.
Like the birds that have flown south for the winter, we tend to migrate to those places where we will find warmth and comfort, healing and hope. Like them, we seek a resting place of peace. Like them we are also frozen with fright by the events that assail us. And like them, we have a yearning for home.
At such times, when we, like the birds of the air, seek to fly yearning to be free, it is God who also yearns – yearns to be with us and share in His creation. The wonder of Christmas, the mystery of Christmas, is that God left heaven to be with us.
So God came down from heaven to Bethlehem to be born in a manger with the ox and the ass, the shepherds and the sheep, to be with us. A Merry Christmas, a happy life, and good fortune are not why God comes to be with us. God loves us more than this.
God says, “I do not wish to take away people’s desires or even their emptiness. Rather, I wish to share their desires and their emptiness by being by their side. I want to fly with my flock, to help them seek what they mostly deeply need.
“I want to help their yearning to reach into the farthest corners of heaven and to help them find part of heaven that is already within themselves. I desire to embrace with my wings all the ill-winds of death, all the winds of doubt and despair that buffet them; and I will transform them into currents of love.”
This Christmas Eve, we join hands and hearts around the manger of Jesus. The light from the manger gives sight to the world. It is a place that holds not only a little baby but cradles the whole world. The real manger on this Christmas Eve is the human heart. That is where the Christ of Christmas is born and known to be real and true.
For the enduring invitation of Christmas for us is how we will cast the shadow of the manger everyday. Its outline is traced by the way we live our lives with generosity and compassion not only at Christmas but everyday of the year. As it is written in the Letter of Titus, “We are a people who are zealous for good deeds.”
Shortly, we will depart from this place. We will go with family and friends out into the night. We will return to our homes filled with bright lights and trees, good food and presents. Let us take with us the meaning of this night. Let always keep Christmas in our hearts.
The life we live is in God. The life we praise is to Jesus – just as the words from the Christmas carol, O Holy Night, remind us:
God of light who breaks into the darkness of the world each day, break into our hearts anew. As we learn to live in your light, help us to serve you in holiness and righteousness. Guide us in the way of peace. All this we ask in the name of Christ, the light that we pray.
Amen.
In the Shadow of the Manger
Every year at Christmas, we hear the story of Jesus’ birth according to the Gospel of Luke. As an historian Luke is very careful to place the Nativity of our Lord within the context of world history. We hear about the rulers of the time and the evangelist is explicit in making the point that the birth of one small child in Bethlehem occurs in the midst of timeless turmoil – war and rumors of war, economic disparity, and persecution and oppression.
It is in this historical context that Luke writes the immortal words of hope: “Today a Savior has been born! He is Christ the Lord” (2:11). Our Christian faith tells us that God came into the world in an unexpected way – God did not come into the world as a prince but as a pauper. God did not come into the world as a powerful warrior but as a vulnerable baby. God did not come into the world to be the leader of the principalities and powers but to save and rescue the world from sin and death. God came to be with you and me.
The 20th century poet, Robinson Jeffers, writes:
For an hour on Christmas EveEach and every Christmas, we hear Luke’s story and again are reminded that the Creator God condescended to take on human form and came into the world as a homeless child. When we sing the familiar words of the carol, “Away in the manger,” we sing sweetly the words, “Away in a manger no crib for his bed, the little Lord Jesus, laid down his sweet head.” Yet, behind the words and behind the holiday sentiment stirs an enduring reality that God came to be identified not with Augustus Caesar but with the lost and homesick, the homeless and the exile.
And again on the holy day,
Seek the magic of past time,
From this present turn away.
Dark though our day,
Light lies the snow on hawthorn hedges
And the ox knelt down at midnight…
Caesar and Herod shared the world
Sorrow over Bethlehem lay,
Iron the empire, brutal the time
Dark was that first Christmas Day,
Light lay the snow on the mistletoe berries
And the ox knelt down at midnight.
The mystery of Christmas is about the majesty of God who loves us so much that God became one of us in Jesus; and the simplest way for me to understand this mystery is to share a story with you.
Once upon a Christmas Eve, a man sat in reflective silence before the fireplace, pondering the meaning of Christmas. “There is no point to God who becomes man,” he mused. “Why would an all-powerful God want to share even one of His precious moments with the likes of humanity? And even if he did, why would he choose to be born in an animal stall? No way! The whole idea is absurd! I’m sure that if God really wanted to come down to earth, He would have chosen some other way.”
Suddenly, the man was roused from his ruminations by a strange sound outside. He went to the window and saw a small gaggle of Canadian geese frantically honking and aimlessly flopping about in the snow. They seemed disoriented and dazed. Apparently, they had dropped out of exhaustion from the flight formation of a larger flock on its way from north of Newfoundland to the warmer climes of the Gulf of Mexico.
Moved with compassion, the man tried to shoo the poor geese into his warm garage; but the more he shooed the more they panicked. “If they only realized I’m only trying to do what’s best for them,” he thought to himself. “How can I make them understand my concern for their well-being?” Then, this thought came to him: “If for just one minute, I could become one of them, an ordinary goose, and communicate with them in their own language, they would know what I’m trying to do.”
And suddenly, he remembered Christmas and a smile came over his face. Suddenly, the Christmas story no longer seemed absurd. Suddenly, he pictured that ordinary-looking infant, lying in a manger, in the stable in Bethlehem, and he knew the answer to his Christmas question: God had become one of us to tell us He loves us and to point us home.
As I have reflected upon this story, the more I think it is a parable of Christmas.
Like the birds that have flown south for the winter, we tend to migrate to those places where we will find warmth and comfort, healing and hope. Like them, we seek a resting place of peace. Like them we are also frozen with fright by the events that assail us. And like them, we have a yearning for home.
At such times, when we, like the birds of the air, seek to fly yearning to be free, it is God who also yearns – yearns to be with us and share in His creation. The wonder of Christmas, the mystery of Christmas, is that God left heaven to be with us.
So God came down from heaven to Bethlehem to be born in a manger with the ox and the ass, the shepherds and the sheep, to be with us. A Merry Christmas, a happy life, and good fortune are not why God comes to be with us. God loves us more than this.
God says, “I do not wish to take away people’s desires or even their emptiness. Rather, I wish to share their desires and their emptiness by being by their side. I want to fly with my flock, to help them seek what they mostly deeply need.
“I want to help their yearning to reach into the farthest corners of heaven and to help them find part of heaven that is already within themselves. I desire to embrace with my wings all the ill-winds of death, all the winds of doubt and despair that buffet them; and I will transform them into currents of love.”
This Christmas Eve, we join hands and hearts around the manger of Jesus. The light from the manger gives sight to the world. It is a place that holds not only a little baby but cradles the whole world. The real manger on this Christmas Eve is the human heart. That is where the Christ of Christmas is born and known to be real and true.
For the enduring invitation of Christmas for us is how we will cast the shadow of the manger everyday. Its outline is traced by the way we live our lives with generosity and compassion not only at Christmas but everyday of the year. As it is written in the Letter of Titus, “We are a people who are zealous for good deeds.”
Shortly, we will depart from this place. We will go with family and friends out into the night. We will return to our homes filled with bright lights and trees, good food and presents. Let us take with us the meaning of this night. Let always keep Christmas in our hearts.
The life we live is in God. The life we praise is to Jesus – just as the words from the Christmas carol, O Holy Night, remind us:
Truly He taught us to love one another,Let us pray:
His law is love and His gospel is peace.
Chains he shall break, for the slave our brother.
And in His name all oppression shall cease.
Sweet hymns of joy in grateful chorus raise we,
With all our hearts we praise his holy name.
Christ is the Lord! Then ever, ever praise we,
His power and glory ever more proclaim!
His power and glory ever more proclaim!
God of light who breaks into the darkness of the world each day, break into our hearts anew. As we learn to live in your light, help us to serve you in holiness and righteousness. Guide us in the way of peace. All this we ask in the name of Christ, the light that we pray.
Amen.
Sunday, November 15, 2009
Pentecost XXIV - Skip Windsor
(This sermon was preached at the Cathedral Church of St. Paul in Boston, Massachusetts.)
Proper 28-B, Mark 13:1-8
A New Hope
Let us pray: Be with us, O God, and give us the Spirit of Christ. Amen.
I bring you greetings from the people of Christ Church in Needham. I also want to thank your canon pastor, Steve, for his hospitality and my gratitude to your Dean, Jep, for suggesting the idea of making this pulpit exchange between us last summer. Our two communities share in the vibrant and important Monday Lunch Program when people from Needham come the second Monday of the month to work with members of the Cathedral and to serve a healthy lunch to the men and women who come off the streets for a meal every week.
It is a pleasure to return to the Cathedral where I began my ordained ministry here over twenty years ago as the Cox Fellow. My wife, Kathy, and I have very fond memories of our time here being supported by wonderful people such as Gloria Watt and Dorothy Dottin, as well as, those who have gone before us and abide in the nearer presence of God: People such as Rose Burke, Pearl Blackman, Blossom Frederick and Jeanne Sprout.
As I look around today, I can remember back to important moments in our ministry together: Ordinations, Episcopal elections, baptisms, marriages, and funerals. But, with the passing of the years, I see many changes in the Cathedral congregation and in the Cathedral itself. One of those changes, I have appreciated is the addition of the Labyrinth in the floor of Sprout Hall.
From time to time, when I’ve come to a Monday Lunch program or have attended a meeting in Sprout Hall, I am always aware of the Labyrinth and what it represents about the pilgrim’s journey towards God. I have had the privilege of seeing the real one at Chartres Cathedral in France. It is approximately forty-two feet in diameter, inlaid in the stone floor. The most majestic stained glass windows in the world surround it. Blues. Greens. Yellows. The light seems to dance off the floors.
Like downstairs, the original Labyrinth is normally covered with chairs for worship services. On occasion, the sextons of Chartres will move the chairs for a couple of days so that visitors can walk the Labyrinth finding a serenity and peace given to thousands of men and women over the centuries. I remember vividly several decades ago when I traveled from Paris to Chartres and saw the majestic Cathedral for the first time. It stands strikingly above everything else on a hillside among miles of wheat fields. Only when a traveler gets closer does one know there is a whole city that surrounds it.
Seeing Chartres Cathedral for the first time has always reminded me of those early pilgrims who saw the ancient Temple in Jerusalem for the first time singing those familiar words from Psalm 121,
The gospel lesson today from Mark is instructive about the true nature of cathedrals, churches and communities. The evangelist recounts how Jesus and four of his disciples – Peter and Andrew and James and John – leaving the temple precincts and going across to the Mount of Olives gives them a panoramic view to see the full measure of King Herod’s power and wealth. As the disciples look with awe at its sheer majesty, Jesus remembers all of them had just come from inside the Temple and had witnessed a poor widow drop all she owned into the treasury. What is to be more important: buildings or people? This question is one of the underlying themes of today’s gospel text.
“Wow!” “What a building!” “ Just look at the size of those stones!” They exclaim. Perhaps, they were seeing the beautiful buildings of the Temple for the first time just like my first visit to Chartres or someone’s first visit to Washington, D.C. or New York City. And then Jesus pours cold water on their enthusiasm predicting, “Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.” If ever there were a double take in scripture this would be one of those moments. Did they hear what they thought they heard? Say again?
The disciples ask Jesus when it will happen; and he tells them all these stones will fall but to know the time and hour when they fall is unknown. Not much later, those stones did fall. The Romans destroyed the marvelous Temple in 70 AD tearing it down stone by stone, rock by rock, until there was nothing left. Seeing the Temple leveled must have seemed like the end of the world to the people of Jerusalem. For them, the Temple symbolized the presence of God. And now their Temple was destroyed and it seemed to them that God was gone from their sight.
But, God did not abandon them. While the greed of the Temple treasurers was destroyed and the idolatry of Herod was decimated, there came up from the smoke and ashes, debris and detritus, a new hope to claim the hearts of faithful people. The destruction of the Temple was a signal that the place where people and God met had shifted from a place to a person. Sitting on the Mount of Olives with Jesus that day, the four apostles would later come to know that the temple of God was not made of stones on the temple mount but right in front of them, close as a heartbeat, in the person of Jesus.
Jesus was the new temple; and if it was true then, it is true now. In Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians, the apostle writes that the Spirit of God dwells within us. So many times when people think of a cathedral or a church they think of a building.
In Needham, people will ask me, “Where is your church?” And, I will automatically, but incorrectly say, “At the corner of Rosemary Street and Highland Avenue.” What I should say is that the church is the people, the Laos, who are the true stones that make up Christ Church. The spirit dwells within the people of churches and cathedrals. No matter how beautiful a building, the Spirit rests upon its people.
I love to tell the story of the time when I was the Cox Fellow here at the Cathedral. As you know better than any congregation, you host most of the diocesan services and that some of these services are filled with pageantry and beauty. The music soars. The choir is angelic. The readers are eloquent. And the clergy are wearing their most resplendent vestments. One time we had such a service. It was simply stated -- a magnificent service. The bishops in their mitres, the Cathedral clergy in their purple cassocks, and the deacons and sub-deacons looking like angels it looked like we just came out of central casting. After the service, I asked Mazie Graham what she thought of the service; and I never forgot what Mazie said. She said, “Skip, remember this. You clergy may look like the flowers but we laity are the roots.”
My brothers and sisters of the Cathedral, you are the roots of this diocese. Because of your hospitality, we have most of our special diocesan services here. Because of your vision, we have outreach programs like the Crossing that are engaging the emerging church. Because of your compassion, thousands of people who are hungry and homeless are fed. One of the reasons I wanted to preach today is to tell you that this Cathedral, as venerable as it is, and its ancient stones erected in 1818 and consecrated as a cathedral by Bishop Lawrence in 1912, is not the Cathedral. No. You are the Cathedral along with those who came before you and those who will come after you. I know I speak for countless clergy and laity around the diocese who would echo my sentiments saying you are the roots of the Cathedral and therefore have the deepest roots among us anchoring us as a diocesan community.
I come to visit you today both as messenger and scout. As messenger, I offer greetings from the people of Christ Church. I also come as a scout to return to my church and my deanery telling them about the good work you are doing every day, every Sunday, in this location on Tremont Street and beyond.
Through our baptisms, we all are members of the Body of Christ and carry within us the Spirit of God. Each of us is called to special ministries according to the gifts given us by the spirit. Christ Church has a special ministry given us as a community. It is not about the size of attendance or how big the pledges are. Ministry is more than numbers. And as I have reflected on the Cathedral and its ministry and the people I have known here, I believe part of your ministry is to show the rest of us in the diocese how to do the right thing.
I am reminded of television series aired in 2004 called Angel: Down Under when the hero finds himself trapped in an underwater tomb and fears that no one will find him. After he is finally rescued he tells a friend,
“Nothing in this world is the way it ought to be. It’s harsh and cruel. But that is why there’s us. Champions. It doesn’t matter where we come from. What we have done or even if we make a difference. We live as though the world were what it should be, to show it what it can be.”
Brothers and sisters of the Cathedral, you live as though the world, were what it should be, to show the rest of us what it can be.
Keep it up and God bless you. And now to God, be the honor and the glory. Amen.
Proper 28-B, Mark 13:1-8
A New Hope
Let us pray: Be with us, O God, and give us the Spirit of Christ. Amen.
I bring you greetings from the people of Christ Church in Needham. I also want to thank your canon pastor, Steve, for his hospitality and my gratitude to your Dean, Jep, for suggesting the idea of making this pulpit exchange between us last summer. Our two communities share in the vibrant and important Monday Lunch Program when people from Needham come the second Monday of the month to work with members of the Cathedral and to serve a healthy lunch to the men and women who come off the streets for a meal every week.
It is a pleasure to return to the Cathedral where I began my ordained ministry here over twenty years ago as the Cox Fellow. My wife, Kathy, and I have very fond memories of our time here being supported by wonderful people such as Gloria Watt and Dorothy Dottin, as well as, those who have gone before us and abide in the nearer presence of God: People such as Rose Burke, Pearl Blackman, Blossom Frederick and Jeanne Sprout.
As I look around today, I can remember back to important moments in our ministry together: Ordinations, Episcopal elections, baptisms, marriages, and funerals. But, with the passing of the years, I see many changes in the Cathedral congregation and in the Cathedral itself. One of those changes, I have appreciated is the addition of the Labyrinth in the floor of Sprout Hall.
From time to time, when I’ve come to a Monday Lunch program or have attended a meeting in Sprout Hall, I am always aware of the Labyrinth and what it represents about the pilgrim’s journey towards God. I have had the privilege of seeing the real one at Chartres Cathedral in France. It is approximately forty-two feet in diameter, inlaid in the stone floor. The most majestic stained glass windows in the world surround it. Blues. Greens. Yellows. The light seems to dance off the floors.
Like downstairs, the original Labyrinth is normally covered with chairs for worship services. On occasion, the sextons of Chartres will move the chairs for a couple of days so that visitors can walk the Labyrinth finding a serenity and peace given to thousands of men and women over the centuries. I remember vividly several decades ago when I traveled from Paris to Chartres and saw the majestic Cathedral for the first time. It stands strikingly above everything else on a hillside among miles of wheat fields. Only when a traveler gets closer does one know there is a whole city that surrounds it.
Seeing Chartres Cathedral for the first time has always reminded me of those early pilgrims who saw the ancient Temple in Jerusalem for the first time singing those familiar words from Psalm 121,
I will lift up mine eyes unto the hills ---I think every Cathedral such as St. Paul’s or Chartres is a reminder of the Temple of Jerusalem where people would make their pilgrimage to their “Mother Church.” I know that many Anglicans who have come from the islands of the Caribbean and West Indies over the decades have made St. Paul’s their home because it is the mother church of the diocese. Many of us around the diocese would consider St. Paul’s our Cathedral; and, I suspect that the early pilgrims of Jesus’ time would consider the Temple their temple.
From whence cometh my help?
My help cometh even from the Lord,
Who hath made heaven and earth.
The gospel lesson today from Mark is instructive about the true nature of cathedrals, churches and communities. The evangelist recounts how Jesus and four of his disciples – Peter and Andrew and James and John – leaving the temple precincts and going across to the Mount of Olives gives them a panoramic view to see the full measure of King Herod’s power and wealth. As the disciples look with awe at its sheer majesty, Jesus remembers all of them had just come from inside the Temple and had witnessed a poor widow drop all she owned into the treasury. What is to be more important: buildings or people? This question is one of the underlying themes of today’s gospel text.
“Wow!” “What a building!” “ Just look at the size of those stones!” They exclaim. Perhaps, they were seeing the beautiful buildings of the Temple for the first time just like my first visit to Chartres or someone’s first visit to Washington, D.C. or New York City. And then Jesus pours cold water on their enthusiasm predicting, “Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.” If ever there were a double take in scripture this would be one of those moments. Did they hear what they thought they heard? Say again?
The disciples ask Jesus when it will happen; and he tells them all these stones will fall but to know the time and hour when they fall is unknown. Not much later, those stones did fall. The Romans destroyed the marvelous Temple in 70 AD tearing it down stone by stone, rock by rock, until there was nothing left. Seeing the Temple leveled must have seemed like the end of the world to the people of Jerusalem. For them, the Temple symbolized the presence of God. And now their Temple was destroyed and it seemed to them that God was gone from their sight.
But, God did not abandon them. While the greed of the Temple treasurers was destroyed and the idolatry of Herod was decimated, there came up from the smoke and ashes, debris and detritus, a new hope to claim the hearts of faithful people. The destruction of the Temple was a signal that the place where people and God met had shifted from a place to a person. Sitting on the Mount of Olives with Jesus that day, the four apostles would later come to know that the temple of God was not made of stones on the temple mount but right in front of them, close as a heartbeat, in the person of Jesus.
Jesus was the new temple; and if it was true then, it is true now. In Paul’s First Letter to the Corinthians, the apostle writes that the Spirit of God dwells within us. So many times when people think of a cathedral or a church they think of a building.
In Needham, people will ask me, “Where is your church?” And, I will automatically, but incorrectly say, “At the corner of Rosemary Street and Highland Avenue.” What I should say is that the church is the people, the Laos, who are the true stones that make up Christ Church. The spirit dwells within the people of churches and cathedrals. No matter how beautiful a building, the Spirit rests upon its people.
I love to tell the story of the time when I was the Cox Fellow here at the Cathedral. As you know better than any congregation, you host most of the diocesan services and that some of these services are filled with pageantry and beauty. The music soars. The choir is angelic. The readers are eloquent. And the clergy are wearing their most resplendent vestments. One time we had such a service. It was simply stated -- a magnificent service. The bishops in their mitres, the Cathedral clergy in their purple cassocks, and the deacons and sub-deacons looking like angels it looked like we just came out of central casting. After the service, I asked Mazie Graham what she thought of the service; and I never forgot what Mazie said. She said, “Skip, remember this. You clergy may look like the flowers but we laity are the roots.”
My brothers and sisters of the Cathedral, you are the roots of this diocese. Because of your hospitality, we have most of our special diocesan services here. Because of your vision, we have outreach programs like the Crossing that are engaging the emerging church. Because of your compassion, thousands of people who are hungry and homeless are fed. One of the reasons I wanted to preach today is to tell you that this Cathedral, as venerable as it is, and its ancient stones erected in 1818 and consecrated as a cathedral by Bishop Lawrence in 1912, is not the Cathedral. No. You are the Cathedral along with those who came before you and those who will come after you. I know I speak for countless clergy and laity around the diocese who would echo my sentiments saying you are the roots of the Cathedral and therefore have the deepest roots among us anchoring us as a diocesan community.
I come to visit you today both as messenger and scout. As messenger, I offer greetings from the people of Christ Church. I also come as a scout to return to my church and my deanery telling them about the good work you are doing every day, every Sunday, in this location on Tremont Street and beyond.
Through our baptisms, we all are members of the Body of Christ and carry within us the Spirit of God. Each of us is called to special ministries according to the gifts given us by the spirit. Christ Church has a special ministry given us as a community. It is not about the size of attendance or how big the pledges are. Ministry is more than numbers. And as I have reflected on the Cathedral and its ministry and the people I have known here, I believe part of your ministry is to show the rest of us in the diocese how to do the right thing.
I am reminded of television series aired in 2004 called Angel: Down Under when the hero finds himself trapped in an underwater tomb and fears that no one will find him. After he is finally rescued he tells a friend,
“Nothing in this world is the way it ought to be. It’s harsh and cruel. But that is why there’s us. Champions. It doesn’t matter where we come from. What we have done or even if we make a difference. We live as though the world were what it should be, to show it what it can be.”
Brothers and sisters of the Cathedral, you live as though the world, were what it should be, to show the rest of us what it can be.
Keep it up and God bless you. And now to God, be the honor and the glory. Amen.
Sunday, November 1, 2009
The Feast of All Saints - Sally Bingham
John 11:32-44
Good morning and thank you for having me with you this morning. I bring greetings from the Bishop of California, Marc Andrus who installed me as a Canon last year largely because he couldn’t get me to shut up about the responsibility that Episcopalians have to care for Creation. I am often referred to as the Diocesan Loose Canon. I do not deny that I will blast you with stories and facts of environmental destruction that may just (to use a metaphor) knock you over. And I do go on about it if given the chance. I am a seeker of the truth and I do my very best to speak the truth.
But before I go further, I want to recognize that this is All Saints Day when we honor the Saints that have gone before and set the example for us to be good Christians. If you hoped for a sermon this morning that would address ALL the Saints you will be disappointed, because I will reference only one Saint-the patron saint of the city from which I come, San Francisco. Yes, St. Francis who loved all creatures great and small and treated the trees and plants with respect because they were created by God. While Francis is often referred to as an environmentalist, I don’t think he was. I believe that contrary to the folklore about him, he really was a man trying to recreate what it means to be human. He wanted to be as much like Christ as would be humanly possible and for him that meant defining the human purpose on earth. As he understood it, humans were created to care for all that is. It wasn’t the Sierra club that called earth good, first it was God.
Francis set out to set an example for us just as jesus had. He provide a voice for the poor, the underserved and the creation-all that needed a voice, but didn’t have one-all that was overlooked or beaten down by wealth- some segments of society then and now suffer the consequences of others irresponsibility. Often, it is the rich getting richer on the backs of the poor. Francis dedicated his life and ministry to trying to restore balance to a broken world that had fallen into dark times.
There is another reason that I am mentioning St. Francis and it is because I met Kathy and Skip Windsor in Assisi and together we explored the basilicas, caves and olive groves where Francis preached to the birds and gave food to the poor. Without that meeting-in St. Francis’s home town- I wouldn’t be here with you this morning. It was the beginning of a long and close friendship.
Back to my concern for Creation and I want to make it clear that Creation is what we are part of. God created us with special characteristics so we could look after the world he had made, but we are nontheless part of the Creation. The Creation often referred to as the environment, is not something out there------- it is here, it is us. We are the Creation. Understanding that deeply will help us change some of our behavior because we will connect how we treat the environment and how we treat each other as a reflection of how we feel about God. Furthermore it is in our own best interest to treat God’s creation with care. Harming it only harms our own ability to look after ourselves, not to mention everything else that God created.
I do have a passion for stewardship of God’s Creation and I believe that we, (you and I) the people in the pews who profess a love of God should be leading the charge to protect God’s Creation. And we should lead by example, just as Jesus and Francis did.
I know that are still folks in our church that are suspicious of environmentalism with the notion that the subject is political and doesn’t belong in church. I am often asked.
What does religion have to do with the environment, or isn’t the church getting involved with politics if we take stands on ecological issues. You already know my response ….. we, people of faith should be leading the environmental movement.
How can we sit in a pew and profess a love for God and praise the creation without wanting to protect it.
Unfortunately the environmental crisis HAS become political in part and it is too bad that happened because it is a far deeper issue than just politics. It is a scientific issue and I mention that particularly because I believe that contemporary scientist are the prophets of today- scientist like the ones that received last year’s Nobel peace prize. But care for creation is far deeper and far more important than politics or science, it is a spiritual issue and one that must be addressed by the faith community. How we care for Creation, today will dictate the future for many generations to come. It has become a matter of life and death: a matter that humans are the only ones in position to do something about. We created the problem and if we are going to keep this planet healthy for over 6 billion people to live on safely, we need to work hard to make real changes.
We have to have a healthy environment if we are going to survive as a species AND, as is becoming increasingly clear, if we are going to have a healthy economy we must have a healthy environment, too. For our society to be stable, we need three strong pillars for support. One is the economy, one is social/political stability and the third is a healthy environment. They share the weight equally, so if any one of those pillars collapse, the entire structure will fall. And right now, one of those pillars is on the verge of collapse.
The threat to our environment is largely due to an unhealthy reliance on fossil fuel for energy in this country and around the world. We are overly dependant on coal, oil and gas for our electricity, our transportation and our heating and cooling. The burning of these fuels is upsetting the balance of nature; the balance that God set into place in the beginning. We are witnessing the rise in temperature due to the rise in carbon dioxide that traps gasses from leaving the atmosphere. The level of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere is by far higher than it has ever been.
We are standing on the edge of two worlds. The one that God created and the one that humans are making. And the one we are making is not sustainable.
It is as serious as life and death. So I ask you to reflect back to the Lazarus story. Jesus chose to give life to his friend because he was a healer and I suspect that Jesus would choose to heal the planet, too.
Our readings this morning and the story of St. Francis are lessons in recreation, new birth, starting over - A new vision of heaven and a new earth.
There is something in the parable about Lazarus that I found
interesting. When Jesus called him out of the tomb, he asked for help from the others. Move the stone he said. Untie him and let him free. He didn’t do it for them, they had to participate in the action. They were part of the healing and had to act with Jesus to restore life.
We are in that kind of situation now. We need God to give us the courage and the will to restore balance in nature and to bring back life where things have already died. But we must participate. We cannot sit back and see if things work out. God will not do it for us. David Orr from Oberlin College says this well. To be optimistic is to assume that everything will turn out all right in the end, but hope is different. It is a verb with your sleeves rolled up. You have to be invested in the restoration
God asks us to roll up our sleeves and get to work. It won’t happen on its own.
The ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew, the leader of the 300 million Greek Orthodox has called environmental degradation a sin. I have to agree. If you love God and you believe that God created everything and called it good, then God loves the creation. God so loved the world, HE gave his only son……….Then isn’t it reasonable to think that insulting the creation, like taking tops of mountains to get coal is insulting to God. There are other ways to get coal that won’t destroy mountains, valley, rivers, streams and everything that lives in them. This can be said about deforestation and fishing with huge nets that capture and kill everything in its way when only fishing for one species. Wasting valuable life and resources. You have heard the expression-What would jesus do- well what would Francis do?
I don’t want to leave you with the idea that nothing is being done. There are thousands of people all over the world who are working hard to restore balance. Lots and lots of Francises who care as much about creation as they do themselves.
There is lots of good news.People are actually buying smaller more energy efficient cars, they are building houses at a more reasonable size. Recycling is becoming a normal thing and not a bother. It’s not everywhere, but I travel a lot and I am experiencing change. You may have a local coffee shop that gives a discount if you bring your own cup. Often there are signs in take out restaurants next to a paper napkin container that say--- Paper means trees- use only what you need. I have been to many hotels that suggest you leave your towels on the floor if you want clean ones, but if you think you could use a towel a second time, hang it up. Same with changing sheets. These efforts save water and energy. They are all steps in the right direction and will have an impact on how people behave. It simple raises consciousness. You can learn more about how to save energy and money at the Adult Forum this morning. Where you will hear from Vince, Clayton and Michael. People want to do the right thing, but often don’t know what to do. I say, just think before you do anything.
Think about justice and fairness for ALL of Creation, not just humans when you are making decision. It is people of faith, people who go to church and love Christ who can serve as models. It is up to us to show the way. We say we love God and love our neighbors then shouldn’t we demonstrate that behavior?
When you leave today, think of the healing messages and how Jesus could restore life, but he asked for help. If we have the faith in ourselves that we can heal this planet and we have the courage to make the changes we need to make AND a God beside us who is a healer- we will succeed. Indeed, as people of conscious and as Christians, there is no choice but to try.
And I will close with one last comment. Neither Jesus or Francis came to show us how to die, but rather to show us how to live.
amen
Good morning and thank you for having me with you this morning. I bring greetings from the Bishop of California, Marc Andrus who installed me as a Canon last year largely because he couldn’t get me to shut up about the responsibility that Episcopalians have to care for Creation. I am often referred to as the Diocesan Loose Canon. I do not deny that I will blast you with stories and facts of environmental destruction that may just (to use a metaphor) knock you over. And I do go on about it if given the chance. I am a seeker of the truth and I do my very best to speak the truth.
But before I go further, I want to recognize that this is All Saints Day when we honor the Saints that have gone before and set the example for us to be good Christians. If you hoped for a sermon this morning that would address ALL the Saints you will be disappointed, because I will reference only one Saint-the patron saint of the city from which I come, San Francisco. Yes, St. Francis who loved all creatures great and small and treated the trees and plants with respect because they were created by God. While Francis is often referred to as an environmentalist, I don’t think he was. I believe that contrary to the folklore about him, he really was a man trying to recreate what it means to be human. He wanted to be as much like Christ as would be humanly possible and for him that meant defining the human purpose on earth. As he understood it, humans were created to care for all that is. It wasn’t the Sierra club that called earth good, first it was God.
Francis set out to set an example for us just as jesus had. He provide a voice for the poor, the underserved and the creation-all that needed a voice, but didn’t have one-all that was overlooked or beaten down by wealth- some segments of society then and now suffer the consequences of others irresponsibility. Often, it is the rich getting richer on the backs of the poor. Francis dedicated his life and ministry to trying to restore balance to a broken world that had fallen into dark times.
There is another reason that I am mentioning St. Francis and it is because I met Kathy and Skip Windsor in Assisi and together we explored the basilicas, caves and olive groves where Francis preached to the birds and gave food to the poor. Without that meeting-in St. Francis’s home town- I wouldn’t be here with you this morning. It was the beginning of a long and close friendship.
Back to my concern for Creation and I want to make it clear that Creation is what we are part of. God created us with special characteristics so we could look after the world he had made, but we are nontheless part of the Creation. The Creation often referred to as the environment, is not something out there------- it is here, it is us. We are the Creation. Understanding that deeply will help us change some of our behavior because we will connect how we treat the environment and how we treat each other as a reflection of how we feel about God. Furthermore it is in our own best interest to treat God’s creation with care. Harming it only harms our own ability to look after ourselves, not to mention everything else that God created.
I do have a passion for stewardship of God’s Creation and I believe that we, (you and I) the people in the pews who profess a love of God should be leading the charge to protect God’s Creation. And we should lead by example, just as Jesus and Francis did.
I know that are still folks in our church that are suspicious of environmentalism with the notion that the subject is political and doesn’t belong in church. I am often asked.
What does religion have to do with the environment, or isn’t the church getting involved with politics if we take stands on ecological issues. You already know my response ….. we, people of faith should be leading the environmental movement.
How can we sit in a pew and profess a love for God and praise the creation without wanting to protect it.
Unfortunately the environmental crisis HAS become political in part and it is too bad that happened because it is a far deeper issue than just politics. It is a scientific issue and I mention that particularly because I believe that contemporary scientist are the prophets of today- scientist like the ones that received last year’s Nobel peace prize. But care for creation is far deeper and far more important than politics or science, it is a spiritual issue and one that must be addressed by the faith community. How we care for Creation, today will dictate the future for many generations to come. It has become a matter of life and death: a matter that humans are the only ones in position to do something about. We created the problem and if we are going to keep this planet healthy for over 6 billion people to live on safely, we need to work hard to make real changes.
We have to have a healthy environment if we are going to survive as a species AND, as is becoming increasingly clear, if we are going to have a healthy economy we must have a healthy environment, too. For our society to be stable, we need three strong pillars for support. One is the economy, one is social/political stability and the third is a healthy environment. They share the weight equally, so if any one of those pillars collapse, the entire structure will fall. And right now, one of those pillars is on the verge of collapse.
The threat to our environment is largely due to an unhealthy reliance on fossil fuel for energy in this country and around the world. We are overly dependant on coal, oil and gas for our electricity, our transportation and our heating and cooling. The burning of these fuels is upsetting the balance of nature; the balance that God set into place in the beginning. We are witnessing the rise in temperature due to the rise in carbon dioxide that traps gasses from leaving the atmosphere. The level of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere is by far higher than it has ever been.
We are standing on the edge of two worlds. The one that God created and the one that humans are making. And the one we are making is not sustainable.
It is as serious as life and death. So I ask you to reflect back to the Lazarus story. Jesus chose to give life to his friend because he was a healer and I suspect that Jesus would choose to heal the planet, too.
Our readings this morning and the story of St. Francis are lessons in recreation, new birth, starting over - A new vision of heaven and a new earth.
There is something in the parable about Lazarus that I found
interesting. When Jesus called him out of the tomb, he asked for help from the others. Move the stone he said. Untie him and let him free. He didn’t do it for them, they had to participate in the action. They were part of the healing and had to act with Jesus to restore life.
We are in that kind of situation now. We need God to give us the courage and the will to restore balance in nature and to bring back life where things have already died. But we must participate. We cannot sit back and see if things work out. God will not do it for us. David Orr from Oberlin College says this well. To be optimistic is to assume that everything will turn out all right in the end, but hope is different. It is a verb with your sleeves rolled up. You have to be invested in the restoration
God asks us to roll up our sleeves and get to work. It won’t happen on its own.
The ecumenical Patriarch Bartholomew, the leader of the 300 million Greek Orthodox has called environmental degradation a sin. I have to agree. If you love God and you believe that God created everything and called it good, then God loves the creation. God so loved the world, HE gave his only son……….Then isn’t it reasonable to think that insulting the creation, like taking tops of mountains to get coal is insulting to God. There are other ways to get coal that won’t destroy mountains, valley, rivers, streams and everything that lives in them. This can be said about deforestation and fishing with huge nets that capture and kill everything in its way when only fishing for one species. Wasting valuable life and resources. You have heard the expression-What would jesus do- well what would Francis do?
I don’t want to leave you with the idea that nothing is being done. There are thousands of people all over the world who are working hard to restore balance. Lots and lots of Francises who care as much about creation as they do themselves.
There is lots of good news.People are actually buying smaller more energy efficient cars, they are building houses at a more reasonable size. Recycling is becoming a normal thing and not a bother. It’s not everywhere, but I travel a lot and I am experiencing change. You may have a local coffee shop that gives a discount if you bring your own cup. Often there are signs in take out restaurants next to a paper napkin container that say--- Paper means trees- use only what you need. I have been to many hotels that suggest you leave your towels on the floor if you want clean ones, but if you think you could use a towel a second time, hang it up. Same with changing sheets. These efforts save water and energy. They are all steps in the right direction and will have an impact on how people behave. It simple raises consciousness. You can learn more about how to save energy and money at the Adult Forum this morning. Where you will hear from Vince, Clayton and Michael. People want to do the right thing, but often don’t know what to do. I say, just think before you do anything.
Think about justice and fairness for ALL of Creation, not just humans when you are making decision. It is people of faith, people who go to church and love Christ who can serve as models. It is up to us to show the way. We say we love God and love our neighbors then shouldn’t we demonstrate that behavior?
When you leave today, think of the healing messages and how Jesus could restore life, but he asked for help. If we have the faith in ourselves that we can heal this planet and we have the courage to make the changes we need to make AND a God beside us who is a healer- we will succeed. Indeed, as people of conscious and as Christians, there is no choice but to try.
And I will close with one last comment. Neither Jesus or Francis came to show us how to die, but rather to show us how to live.
amen
Sunday, October 11, 2009
Pentecost XIX - Skip Windsor
Mark 10:17-31
Let us pray:
Be with us, O Lord, and give us the Spirit of Christ. Amen.
We have before us in Mark’s Gospel what I would call a “Kingdom Question.” This morning’s lesson poses the important question about who will and who will not inherit eternal life.
The story lays out an unresolved tension that has no easy answers; yet, the encounter of the rich young man with Jesus was so important to His first disciples understanding of eternal life and membership in God’s Kingdom that it is included in all three Synoptic Gospels.
We do not the young man’s name and we never find out. He is one of those mysterious figures who appears in the Gospels and then disappears never to be heard of again. Yet what is remarkable about this particular young man is that Jesus loved him. There must have been some quality of character, some remarkable potential in him, that Jesus saw and so wanted him to join Him as a disciple or possibly even as one of his apostles.
The story is clear at the outset. A young man filled with expectation comes up to Jesus and asks him what he must do to inherit eternal life. Jesus refers him to six of the Ten Commandments relating to how to treat one’s neighbor. Respectfully, he says, “Teacher, I have kept all these commands…” What more is there? He has followed the Law, been obedient, cared for other people and done well. Jesus acknowledges the man’s respect and sees the potential within him and loves him for it. Coaxing him, Jesus says you have only one more thing to do and that is to give away all your possessions. Imagine the shock and chagrin that came over the young man’s face when Jesus informs him to give away all he owns.
I suspect there was a long silence at this moment. Picture if you will the picture now: Jesus looking upon the man with tenderness and sadness. The disciples witnessing this encounter wonder what the man would do. And the young man, thinking to himself that Jesus is asking more than he can give: I can’t give away my security, my freedom, my influence, and my identity…
Despite Jesus’ promise of a heavenly treasure, the rich young man could not bring himself to part with his possessions and goes away grieving. All that he thought he was, all that he believed made him who he was, he could not part with. The question of eternal life has now become a matter involving everything he possesses. Knowing that the disciples have followed this conversation carefully, Jesus tells them that wealth is such a barrier to eternal life that it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the Kingdom of God.
As you and I reflect upon this Gospel text, it is obvious that Jesus is saying that you must give up all your money and wealth to enter the Kingdom. I remember once someone telling me that the US government is coming up with a new revised and simpler tax form. All one has to do is report their gross annual income on the first line; and the second line reads, “send it in.” Please do not misunderstand me. Under no circumstances do I want you to equate the KOG with the IRS! The seeming point, that on the surface, wealth and eternal life do not go together.
Years ago, I heard a true story about a newly married couple who lived in Vermont. They lived a righteous life on a simple farm and one might call them children of the sixties or “hippies.” One day, the woman’s aunt died and left them one million dollars. Equating wealth as morally decadent, the couple decided to give it all away: every dollar, every cent. About a year later the IRS came knocking on their door and said they owned back taxes on the one million dollar gift amounting to about two hundred-fifty thousand dollars. They did not have it. They gave it all away. To settle with the IRS, the couple had to sell their farm and all there possessions to pay the government. They became penniless and eventually divorced. It is a sad story without a happy ending. What would have happened if they had been responsible with their newfound wealth? What if they set aside enough for the taxes and given the rest away? It would have been OK.
This story of the Vermont couple is instructive to the Gospel message for today. Jesus is not talking about the immorality of wealth. Jesus had plenty of followers who were wealthy like Joseph of Arimathea and Mary and Martha. Jesus is talking about not about how much one owns but how one is attached unnaturally to their possessions. Jesus is speaking to his followers to act responsibly with one’s wealth by managing it wisely and by not becoming too attached. Jesus later instructs them that to follow him there is a cost to discipleship: Do not be overly attached to worldly things replacing those things for God for it will cost you your soul.
The economic global crisis has brought into sharp relief the Madoff’s of the world. That by amassing fortunes at the expense of others is indeed to lose one’s soul. We read in the paper of wealthy people unhappy, directionless, and living a life devoid of meaning. In this way, Jesus is saying that for wealthy, selfish, people a camel will get through the eye of the needle before them. As Frederick Buechner, the Christian author and novelist, writes, “a checkbook does not solve the big problems: How to be happy, how to love and be loved, how to find meaning and purpose in life.”
What Jesus is saying is that if you want to inherit eternal life and enter the KOG shed all of your earthly attachments. For one’s life and one’s resources both spiritually and materially is about relationships and about sharing. Plumbing the depths further in this text we come to a fundamental question unrelated to dollars and cents, houses and cars, club memberships and second homes. What Jesus is asking of the rich young man, his disciples, and you and me, is where does God fit in to your life?
While the rich young man did keep six of the Ten Commandments, the Gospel lesson does not say whether he kept the other four commandments of which three relate to God. And the one command that underscores this whole passage is the first one, which exhorts all faithful people to have no other gods before the Creator.
You and I live a god-cluttered world. It is a world in which sports athletes are treated like gods. Movie stars are considered “goddesses.” There are the gods of distraction and seduction, of power and influence, of ambition and novelty, and the choice is up to us all to decide what gods, what ultimate concerns, are manufactured by man and what are created by God.
More simply put, these false gods’ maybe detractors from the life-giving time we spend with God in prayer or worship. It may be a frame of mind where God is a choice among other choices. What Jesus is saying is that God is not a choice but is the choice. The Creator God, who made heaven and earth, who created the moon and stars, who brought the people out of bondage into freedom, who came into the world to be one of us, who rose from the dead, who gifted the Holy Spirit to the apostles, and who lives and reigns today, does not, will not be relegated to third place… nor second place.
Over and over again, Jesus speaks about the Kingdom of God and that God’s reign is being built with or without our help. It is coming. In some ways, it is already here.
We can see signs of the kingdom being built wherever people put God first in their lives, where people share their wealth and resources with the least, the last, the lost and lonely, and where yearning hearts find a freedom and peace that the world cannot give.
As I said at the beginning of this meditation, this is a hard text. Not because it means that we have to give up all we possess to be a disciple of God. It is hard because we have to be responsible with what we have making sure we share it with others by either tithing or offering our time, talent and treasure. It is hard because we have to let go of our attachments to the false gods of culture and society and place God the creator, redeemer and sustainer first and foremost in our lives.
Remembering back to the rich young man it is instructive for us to consider that perhaps he went away sorrowful but eventually changed his mind. Perhaps, the hopeful words of Jesus took root in him when he remembered what Jesus said that for God all things are possible. Perhaps, the love Jesus had for him was stronger than anything that the world could give him. We will never know; but we know on this side of the Resurrection that new life grows in places we never expected. Such divine love changes everything. Such love changes the world. Such love changes you and me.
And now to God be the honor, the glory and the praise. Amen.
Let us pray:
Be with us, O Lord, and give us the Spirit of Christ. Amen.
We have before us in Mark’s Gospel what I would call a “Kingdom Question.” This morning’s lesson poses the important question about who will and who will not inherit eternal life.
The story lays out an unresolved tension that has no easy answers; yet, the encounter of the rich young man with Jesus was so important to His first disciples understanding of eternal life and membership in God’s Kingdom that it is included in all three Synoptic Gospels.
We do not the young man’s name and we never find out. He is one of those mysterious figures who appears in the Gospels and then disappears never to be heard of again. Yet what is remarkable about this particular young man is that Jesus loved him. There must have been some quality of character, some remarkable potential in him, that Jesus saw and so wanted him to join Him as a disciple or possibly even as one of his apostles.
The story is clear at the outset. A young man filled with expectation comes up to Jesus and asks him what he must do to inherit eternal life. Jesus refers him to six of the Ten Commandments relating to how to treat one’s neighbor. Respectfully, he says, “Teacher, I have kept all these commands…” What more is there? He has followed the Law, been obedient, cared for other people and done well. Jesus acknowledges the man’s respect and sees the potential within him and loves him for it. Coaxing him, Jesus says you have only one more thing to do and that is to give away all your possessions. Imagine the shock and chagrin that came over the young man’s face when Jesus informs him to give away all he owns.
I suspect there was a long silence at this moment. Picture if you will the picture now: Jesus looking upon the man with tenderness and sadness. The disciples witnessing this encounter wonder what the man would do. And the young man, thinking to himself that Jesus is asking more than he can give: I can’t give away my security, my freedom, my influence, and my identity…
Despite Jesus’ promise of a heavenly treasure, the rich young man could not bring himself to part with his possessions and goes away grieving. All that he thought he was, all that he believed made him who he was, he could not part with. The question of eternal life has now become a matter involving everything he possesses. Knowing that the disciples have followed this conversation carefully, Jesus tells them that wealth is such a barrier to eternal life that it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for a rich person to enter the Kingdom of God.
As you and I reflect upon this Gospel text, it is obvious that Jesus is saying that you must give up all your money and wealth to enter the Kingdom. I remember once someone telling me that the US government is coming up with a new revised and simpler tax form. All one has to do is report their gross annual income on the first line; and the second line reads, “send it in.” Please do not misunderstand me. Under no circumstances do I want you to equate the KOG with the IRS! The seeming point, that on the surface, wealth and eternal life do not go together.
Years ago, I heard a true story about a newly married couple who lived in Vermont. They lived a righteous life on a simple farm and one might call them children of the sixties or “hippies.” One day, the woman’s aunt died and left them one million dollars. Equating wealth as morally decadent, the couple decided to give it all away: every dollar, every cent. About a year later the IRS came knocking on their door and said they owned back taxes on the one million dollar gift amounting to about two hundred-fifty thousand dollars. They did not have it. They gave it all away. To settle with the IRS, the couple had to sell their farm and all there possessions to pay the government. They became penniless and eventually divorced. It is a sad story without a happy ending. What would have happened if they had been responsible with their newfound wealth? What if they set aside enough for the taxes and given the rest away? It would have been OK.
This story of the Vermont couple is instructive to the Gospel message for today. Jesus is not talking about the immorality of wealth. Jesus had plenty of followers who were wealthy like Joseph of Arimathea and Mary and Martha. Jesus is talking about not about how much one owns but how one is attached unnaturally to their possessions. Jesus is speaking to his followers to act responsibly with one’s wealth by managing it wisely and by not becoming too attached. Jesus later instructs them that to follow him there is a cost to discipleship: Do not be overly attached to worldly things replacing those things for God for it will cost you your soul.
The economic global crisis has brought into sharp relief the Madoff’s of the world. That by amassing fortunes at the expense of others is indeed to lose one’s soul. We read in the paper of wealthy people unhappy, directionless, and living a life devoid of meaning. In this way, Jesus is saying that for wealthy, selfish, people a camel will get through the eye of the needle before them. As Frederick Buechner, the Christian author and novelist, writes, “a checkbook does not solve the big problems: How to be happy, how to love and be loved, how to find meaning and purpose in life.”
What Jesus is saying is that if you want to inherit eternal life and enter the KOG shed all of your earthly attachments. For one’s life and one’s resources both spiritually and materially is about relationships and about sharing. Plumbing the depths further in this text we come to a fundamental question unrelated to dollars and cents, houses and cars, club memberships and second homes. What Jesus is asking of the rich young man, his disciples, and you and me, is where does God fit in to your life?
While the rich young man did keep six of the Ten Commandments, the Gospel lesson does not say whether he kept the other four commandments of which three relate to God. And the one command that underscores this whole passage is the first one, which exhorts all faithful people to have no other gods before the Creator.
You and I live a god-cluttered world. It is a world in which sports athletes are treated like gods. Movie stars are considered “goddesses.” There are the gods of distraction and seduction, of power and influence, of ambition and novelty, and the choice is up to us all to decide what gods, what ultimate concerns, are manufactured by man and what are created by God.
More simply put, these false gods’ maybe detractors from the life-giving time we spend with God in prayer or worship. It may be a frame of mind where God is a choice among other choices. What Jesus is saying is that God is not a choice but is the choice. The Creator God, who made heaven and earth, who created the moon and stars, who brought the people out of bondage into freedom, who came into the world to be one of us, who rose from the dead, who gifted the Holy Spirit to the apostles, and who lives and reigns today, does not, will not be relegated to third place… nor second place.
Over and over again, Jesus speaks about the Kingdom of God and that God’s reign is being built with or without our help. It is coming. In some ways, it is already here.
We can see signs of the kingdom being built wherever people put God first in their lives, where people share their wealth and resources with the least, the last, the lost and lonely, and where yearning hearts find a freedom and peace that the world cannot give.
As I said at the beginning of this meditation, this is a hard text. Not because it means that we have to give up all we possess to be a disciple of God. It is hard because we have to be responsible with what we have making sure we share it with others by either tithing or offering our time, talent and treasure. It is hard because we have to let go of our attachments to the false gods of culture and society and place God the creator, redeemer and sustainer first and foremost in our lives.
Remembering back to the rich young man it is instructive for us to consider that perhaps he went away sorrowful but eventually changed his mind. Perhaps, the hopeful words of Jesus took root in him when he remembered what Jesus said that for God all things are possible. Perhaps, the love Jesus had for him was stronger than anything that the world could give him. We will never know; but we know on this side of the Resurrection that new life grows in places we never expected. Such divine love changes everything. Such love changes the world. Such love changes you and me.
And now to God be the honor, the glory and the praise. Amen.
Sunday, May 31, 2009
Pentecost - Skip Windsor
Acts 2:1-21
One Lord, One Faith, One Baptism
It doesn’t get better than this. We gather this Pentecost morning to baptize Charlotte, Sophie, Adelia, Scout, Andrew, Patrick, Angelina, and Abigail. We come together from near and far to share in the joy of family reunions and the gladness of witnessing God’s love for these children.
You and I are participating in a remarkable, even revolutionary, thing this morning. What is remarkable is that everyone is here on time! Everyone is up, dressed and ready by 10 a.m. What is revolutionary is that eight families come together in hope and gladness to have their children blessed by God through water and the spirit.
These children being baptized will not know for some time what is happening to them today. They will not know that on this day of May 31, 2009 that there were gathered scores of people whose hearts were filled with love and gladness for them. They will not know for some time that Christians call this festival day “the Birthday of the Church.”
It was the day when the Holy Spirit breathed on the huddled and dejected apostles and made them brave enough to go change the world. It was the day the Christian Church was born. They may not know for years that on this day they became “Christians” and were marked as Christ’s own forever.
It will be up to you – parents, godparents, grandparents, family and friends – to tell them what happened today. It will be up to you to share with them biblical stories of God’s people. It will be up to you, and all of us, to tell them about the peoples’ covenant with God that took them from slavery to liberation and of God’s redeeming love through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. It will be up to you to walk with them on their life long spiritual journey reminding them that love is stronger than hate, that service is better than being served, and that faith casts out fear.
Someday in the future, if they so wish, each of the newly baptized today, will make the baptismal promises and vows on their own. Years from now, each of them will be old enough to ask the questions and honor the answers for themselves. But, in the meantime, as they stand under the shadow of your wings, I hope you will remind them of this day – the day we gathered as the Church with smiles on our faces. The moment we were filled with the Holy Spirit. It doesn’t get much better than this.
I have no doubt you will be asked questions about God. They might want to know where heaven is; or why bad things happen. Someday, they might ask you what is baptism; and you may want to say that baptism is not only a single event that happened once upon a time on May 31, 2009; but it is also a life long journey of blessing, promise and discovery.
The children’s baptisms today serve as a reminder of our own baptisms. We belong to a diverse world-wide communion that is African and Japanese, Indian and Hispanic, southern hemisphere and northern hemisphere, male and female, black and white, young and old, gay and straight, rich and poor. Many thousands upon thousands of Christians of many tongues and languages are celebrating today through baptism, Eucharist, scripture and song this great Christian festival of Pentecost.
May you enjoy and savor this day with gladness knowing that the Household of Faith called the Church needs and prays for you. Believe that the Holy Spirit will enable and empower you for the work of ministry to serve the least, the last, the lost and the lonely. Be of good cheer and remember who you are and whose you are continuing to live more deeply into your own baptismal vows with faith, hope and charity.
This is indeed that day which the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it! It does not get better than this!
And now to God – Creator, Redeemer and Sustainer – may all honor and praise be given. Amen.
One Lord, One Faith, One Baptism
It doesn’t get better than this. We gather this Pentecost morning to baptize Charlotte, Sophie, Adelia, Scout, Andrew, Patrick, Angelina, and Abigail. We come together from near and far to share in the joy of family reunions and the gladness of witnessing God’s love for these children.
You and I are participating in a remarkable, even revolutionary, thing this morning. What is remarkable is that everyone is here on time! Everyone is up, dressed and ready by 10 a.m. What is revolutionary is that eight families come together in hope and gladness to have their children blessed by God through water and the spirit.
These children being baptized will not know for some time what is happening to them today. They will not know that on this day of May 31, 2009 that there were gathered scores of people whose hearts were filled with love and gladness for them. They will not know for some time that Christians call this festival day “the Birthday of the Church.”
It was the day when the Holy Spirit breathed on the huddled and dejected apostles and made them brave enough to go change the world. It was the day the Christian Church was born. They may not know for years that on this day they became “Christians” and were marked as Christ’s own forever.
It will be up to you – parents, godparents, grandparents, family and friends – to tell them what happened today. It will be up to you to share with them biblical stories of God’s people. It will be up to you, and all of us, to tell them about the peoples’ covenant with God that took them from slavery to liberation and of God’s redeeming love through the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ. It will be up to you to walk with them on their life long spiritual journey reminding them that love is stronger than hate, that service is better than being served, and that faith casts out fear.
Someday in the future, if they so wish, each of the newly baptized today, will make the baptismal promises and vows on their own. Years from now, each of them will be old enough to ask the questions and honor the answers for themselves. But, in the meantime, as they stand under the shadow of your wings, I hope you will remind them of this day – the day we gathered as the Church with smiles on our faces. The moment we were filled with the Holy Spirit. It doesn’t get much better than this.
I have no doubt you will be asked questions about God. They might want to know where heaven is; or why bad things happen. Someday, they might ask you what is baptism; and you may want to say that baptism is not only a single event that happened once upon a time on May 31, 2009; but it is also a life long journey of blessing, promise and discovery.
The children’s baptisms today serve as a reminder of our own baptisms. We belong to a diverse world-wide communion that is African and Japanese, Indian and Hispanic, southern hemisphere and northern hemisphere, male and female, black and white, young and old, gay and straight, rich and poor. Many thousands upon thousands of Christians of many tongues and languages are celebrating today through baptism, Eucharist, scripture and song this great Christian festival of Pentecost.
May you enjoy and savor this day with gladness knowing that the Household of Faith called the Church needs and prays for you. Believe that the Holy Spirit will enable and empower you for the work of ministry to serve the least, the last, the lost and the lonely. Be of good cheer and remember who you are and whose you are continuing to live more deeply into your own baptismal vows with faith, hope and charity.
This is indeed that day which the Lord has made. Let us rejoice and be glad in it! It does not get better than this!
And now to God – Creator, Redeemer and Sustainer – may all honor and praise be given. Amen.
Sunday, April 19, 2009
Easter II - Thomas Moore
May the words of my mouth and the mediation of our hearts empower us to grow in knowledge and love of you, Oh, Lord, our strength and redeemer. AMEN.
DOUBT… DOUBTING THOMAS... Me, a Thomas. Is there a message in your invitation to be the guest preacher on this, today’s Gospel?
Message or not, my wife, the Reverend Helen Moore, a seminarian classmate of your rector, and I are honored to be with you here at Christ Church, and thankful for special time with Kathy and Skip. As today’s Psalm reads, “Oh, how good and pleasant it is when sisters and brothers live together in unity.” It is indeed good and pleasant to be here, Skip. Thank you.
A year ago, I became the first lay Executive Director of a 150 year old Episcopal foundation, one with an anachronistic name, The Society for the Increase of the Ministry, or S.I.M. An anachronistic name, yes, but a very relevant, significant ministry. Since 1857 S.I.M. has supported Episcopal seminarians—financially, pastorally, and by advocating for seminarians within the councils of the Church.
When initially contacted by a recruiter, my first thought was: “What an anachronistic name!” Followed by a second notion: “Scholarships for seminarians a worthy cause, certainly, but a seeming narrowly focused mission for a national organization.” Then, a more profound reflection, “Could this be of God?” I had my doubts.
In our Spiritual Journey, Helen and I have discovered that if opportunities arise, “out-of-the-blue”, we best pay attention… despite our doubts. We best be cautious about leaning unto our own understanding. As for doubts, we best use them to push us to think—spiritually think…to explore and to question our limited vision.
Prayerful examination of the S.I.M. opportunity led to a deeper “seeing”—seeing that seminarians are far more than just theological students, checking off a major obligation on the path to ordination. Seminarians are the future leaders of our Church. Seminarians thus will be shaping our Church in the future. Seminarians are critical to the future of the Church we love. Realizing S.I.M.’s potential as a catalyst with significant impact on our Church’s future made accepting this responsibility…getting beyond doubt…arriving at an “ahah” moment… somewhat like, well (not to be overdramatic), putting my hand in Jesus’ side. It was then that the idea of a call became tangible, and I could see. Then that I could believe. Then that, beyond doubt, S.I.M.’s invitation to lead as Executive Director was God’s call.
Of course, moving beyond doubt is not a once and forever victory. It’s one thing to believe and another to follow and implement. Soon this Doubting Thomas was looking for a sign—further confirmation of this call—to come from my initial fund raising letter. It came in an “out-of-the-blue,” amazing blessing. The first donation of my S.I.M. tenure was from your rector, whose gift recognized the support S.I.M. provided Miranda Hassett, your seminarian assistant here a few years ago. I can’t tell you, Skip, how much opening your letter meant… to me and to the commencement of my ministry at S.I.M.
In today’s Gospel, the doubt-plagued disciples are hiding in the Upper Room. They are a timid little band, terrified because their dream had evaporated. “We had hoped,” said they, “that Jesus was the one to redeem Israel.” Where there was once hope… now it’s “doors…doors locked for fear….” Once in the streets speaking publicly with Jesus to the countryside, now they spoke in whispers among themselves. All Hell was breaking loose around them, and in them. Surely, emotionally battered; surely, plagued with questions; surely, beleaguered by doubts…until, until they saw the Lord for themselves, and silent fear was transformed into proclamation of the Good News. But Thomas was not there.
Why was Thomas missing from the Upper Room’s first gathering? Was it fear…hopelessness…a feeling of betrayal…embarrassment that Thomas had cast all his trust on a dreamer? Or was Jesus’ brutal death was so overwhelmingly real for Thomas that he couldn’t imagine anything beyond Jesus’ crucifixion. Whatever the reason for Thomas’ absence, he would not again risk belief in the intangible.
Should we condemn Thomas…or should we bless him? Doubting Thomas speaks what we dare not. Thomas’ candor grants us permission to be as openly human as he was. Thomas manifests what it is to shrink from life’s disillusionments but ultimately move beyond doubt in search of truth. Thomas spoke the truth of his limited vision, out loud, neither claiming to understand the un-understandable, nor to believe the unbelievable. Belief in the disciple’s reports was too risky a choice for Doubting Thomas; he demanded tangible confirmation. “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”
Thomas’ doubt was certain, but then he did return. Ultimately, Thomas did not let doubt shut him down. Instead, doubt opened him to: not surrendering in his pursuit of truth; not quitting on God when it felt as if God had quit on him; to risk seeking the Risen Christ in new ways. Perhaps Doubting Thomas could be better understood as Searching Thomas.
Doubt is fundamental to human existence. It’s not doubt that thwarts our faith; it’s how we respond that either increases or prevents growth in faith. Doubt can be a positive change-agent. There is more potential for embodying faith in the one who faces doubt than there is in the one who glibly repeats the unexamined creeds of others. “An unexamined life is not worth living,” said Socrates. Doubt can be dynamic or doubt can be debilitating. Dynamic doubt engages one to confront the questions of life. Debilitating doubt holds God at arm’s length, eventually leading to self-absorption and stagnation. Dynamic doubt is a spiritual friend; debilitating doubt, one of Satan’s favorite tools. Author, theologian Frederick Beuchner puts it well: “How could God reveal himself in a way that leaves no room for doubt? If there were no room for doubt, there would be no room for me.”
Today we have perspective unavailable to Thomas. Today we know that ultimate reconciliation took place on Calvary when the One martyred by the world forgave the world. Yet the Doubting Thomas in us still needs to know that Jesus is not a God who just stands above it all but stands with us all. Thomas teaches us not to let fear, disappointment, and uncertainties drive a wedge between God and us. Thomas shows us what it is to walk away for a moment but return for a lifetime.
God wants us, like Thomas, to move through times of doubt to moments of decision. Doubt in hand, Thomas chose to name his doubt and live into the questions arising from the seeming absence of Jesus. Getting beyond doubt and confronting life’s questions ultimately led this man called Thomas to one of the most profound confessions of faith in all the Gospels. When we feel the absence of Jesus in our lives, we’re tempted to doubt. May we, like Thomas, choose to confront our doubt, seek to find Jesus and reach that point of professing his presence: “My Lord and my God!” AMEN.
DOUBT… DOUBTING THOMAS... Me, a Thomas. Is there a message in your invitation to be the guest preacher on this, today’s Gospel?
Message or not, my wife, the Reverend Helen Moore, a seminarian classmate of your rector, and I are honored to be with you here at Christ Church, and thankful for special time with Kathy and Skip. As today’s Psalm reads, “Oh, how good and pleasant it is when sisters and brothers live together in unity.” It is indeed good and pleasant to be here, Skip. Thank you.
A year ago, I became the first lay Executive Director of a 150 year old Episcopal foundation, one with an anachronistic name, The Society for the Increase of the Ministry, or S.I.M. An anachronistic name, yes, but a very relevant, significant ministry. Since 1857 S.I.M. has supported Episcopal seminarians—financially, pastorally, and by advocating for seminarians within the councils of the Church.
When initially contacted by a recruiter, my first thought was: “What an anachronistic name!” Followed by a second notion: “Scholarships for seminarians a worthy cause, certainly, but a seeming narrowly focused mission for a national organization.” Then, a more profound reflection, “Could this be of God?” I had my doubts.
In our Spiritual Journey, Helen and I have discovered that if opportunities arise, “out-of-the-blue”, we best pay attention… despite our doubts. We best be cautious about leaning unto our own understanding. As for doubts, we best use them to push us to think—spiritually think…to explore and to question our limited vision.
Prayerful examination of the S.I.M. opportunity led to a deeper “seeing”—seeing that seminarians are far more than just theological students, checking off a major obligation on the path to ordination. Seminarians are the future leaders of our Church. Seminarians thus will be shaping our Church in the future. Seminarians are critical to the future of the Church we love. Realizing S.I.M.’s potential as a catalyst with significant impact on our Church’s future made accepting this responsibility…getting beyond doubt…arriving at an “ahah” moment… somewhat like, well (not to be overdramatic), putting my hand in Jesus’ side. It was then that the idea of a call became tangible, and I could see. Then that I could believe. Then that, beyond doubt, S.I.M.’s invitation to lead as Executive Director was God’s call.
Of course, moving beyond doubt is not a once and forever victory. It’s one thing to believe and another to follow and implement. Soon this Doubting Thomas was looking for a sign—further confirmation of this call—to come from my initial fund raising letter. It came in an “out-of-the-blue,” amazing blessing. The first donation of my S.I.M. tenure was from your rector, whose gift recognized the support S.I.M. provided Miranda Hassett, your seminarian assistant here a few years ago. I can’t tell you, Skip, how much opening your letter meant… to me and to the commencement of my ministry at S.I.M.
In today’s Gospel, the doubt-plagued disciples are hiding in the Upper Room. They are a timid little band, terrified because their dream had evaporated. “We had hoped,” said they, “that Jesus was the one to redeem Israel.” Where there was once hope… now it’s “doors…doors locked for fear….” Once in the streets speaking publicly with Jesus to the countryside, now they spoke in whispers among themselves. All Hell was breaking loose around them, and in them. Surely, emotionally battered; surely, plagued with questions; surely, beleaguered by doubts…until, until they saw the Lord for themselves, and silent fear was transformed into proclamation of the Good News. But Thomas was not there.
Why was Thomas missing from the Upper Room’s first gathering? Was it fear…hopelessness…a feeling of betrayal…embarrassment that Thomas had cast all his trust on a dreamer? Or was Jesus’ brutal death was so overwhelmingly real for Thomas that he couldn’t imagine anything beyond Jesus’ crucifixion. Whatever the reason for Thomas’ absence, he would not again risk belief in the intangible.
Should we condemn Thomas…or should we bless him? Doubting Thomas speaks what we dare not. Thomas’ candor grants us permission to be as openly human as he was. Thomas manifests what it is to shrink from life’s disillusionments but ultimately move beyond doubt in search of truth. Thomas spoke the truth of his limited vision, out loud, neither claiming to understand the un-understandable, nor to believe the unbelievable. Belief in the disciple’s reports was too risky a choice for Doubting Thomas; he demanded tangible confirmation. “Unless I see the mark of the nails in his hands, and put my finger in the mark of the nails and my hand in his side, I will not believe.”
Thomas’ doubt was certain, but then he did return. Ultimately, Thomas did not let doubt shut him down. Instead, doubt opened him to: not surrendering in his pursuit of truth; not quitting on God when it felt as if God had quit on him; to risk seeking the Risen Christ in new ways. Perhaps Doubting Thomas could be better understood as Searching Thomas.
Doubt is fundamental to human existence. It’s not doubt that thwarts our faith; it’s how we respond that either increases or prevents growth in faith. Doubt can be a positive change-agent. There is more potential for embodying faith in the one who faces doubt than there is in the one who glibly repeats the unexamined creeds of others. “An unexamined life is not worth living,” said Socrates. Doubt can be dynamic or doubt can be debilitating. Dynamic doubt engages one to confront the questions of life. Debilitating doubt holds God at arm’s length, eventually leading to self-absorption and stagnation. Dynamic doubt is a spiritual friend; debilitating doubt, one of Satan’s favorite tools. Author, theologian Frederick Beuchner puts it well: “How could God reveal himself in a way that leaves no room for doubt? If there were no room for doubt, there would be no room for me.”
Today we have perspective unavailable to Thomas. Today we know that ultimate reconciliation took place on Calvary when the One martyred by the world forgave the world. Yet the Doubting Thomas in us still needs to know that Jesus is not a God who just stands above it all but stands with us all. Thomas teaches us not to let fear, disappointment, and uncertainties drive a wedge between God and us. Thomas shows us what it is to walk away for a moment but return for a lifetime.
God wants us, like Thomas, to move through times of doubt to moments of decision. Doubt in hand, Thomas chose to name his doubt and live into the questions arising from the seeming absence of Jesus. Getting beyond doubt and confronting life’s questions ultimately led this man called Thomas to one of the most profound confessions of faith in all the Gospels. When we feel the absence of Jesus in our lives, we’re tempted to doubt. May we, like Thomas, choose to confront our doubt, seek to find Jesus and reach that point of professing his presence: “My Lord and my God!” AMEN.
Sunday, April 12, 2009
Easter - Skip Windsor
1 Cor. 15:1-11; John 20:1-18
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be always acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.
We come to church this morning braver than we think. We gather this Easter confounded with many thoughts. Some may be thinking about how their Easter Dinner is going to go with family and friends today. For others, they may be thinking about how the story of the Empty Tomb relates to their own empty 401 (k) Plans. Still others may be remembering someone that they have lost who is near and dear to them. And, still for others, who are pondering more immediate things, are thinking, “Maybe I should time how long this sermon is going to be?”
Easter is all about God’s action for the World. This may be surprising to many since we like to think that we do everything ourselves; but, the Christian experience should tell us otherwise: the more we think about it the more we come to realize that it is all God’s doing – God’s work – We did not make up the Easter Story. We received it. So, you and I are invited by God in Jesus Christ to share in his victory over death. We are invited to “come and see.” We are offered a new way of being in relationship with God and of forming a new community of living in the belief that death has been overcome, that death itself is dead.
If you want to see beyond the vale of death to see the promise of eternal life, if you want to believe that there is more to this present life than what you know, and if want to be brave enough to step away from the conditioned coordinates of the world, then you have come to the right place. This is the moment to “come and see.”
The first thing to know about Easter is that it is not easy for poets and writers, for scientists and theologians, or for you and me to unravel with any certainty the mystery of the resurrection. One of the best examples of the problem is contained in the well-known Easter poem “Seven Stanzas at Easter “ by John Updike. Updike identifies the issue of the bodily resurrection of Jesus head-on in the first lines,
The earliest known Christian writing on the resurrection comes from The First Letter of Paul to the Corinthians. According to Paul, we can trust with confidence at least four truths: Peter and some other disciples found an empty tomb. Secondly, Peter and the other apostles came to believe that after Jesus’ death they had encountered him alive and well. Thirdly, days and months later, Jesus appeared to as many as 500 followers. And finally, Paul personally believed he encountered the Risen Christ.
In all these events, it is recorded that these once frightened and beleaguered disciples were changed – transformed -- into a brave and resolute community of faithful men and women who would risk their lives to share with Jew and Gentile, men and women, slave and free, rich and poor, the good news of Jesus Christ.
I am reminded of the story of a group of miners who were part of the California Gold Rush of 1849. They found a large deposit of the precious metal, but wanted to keep the discovery to themselves. They pledged that none of them would share their secret when they returned to town to get their supplies. And they kept their promise. Not one of them said a word about their find. But when they set out for their claim a few days later, they were surprised by a large group of people following them. “How did you know we had struck pay-dirt?” they asked. “No one said a thing,” they were told, “but you all used to be such a grouchy group when you came to town, and this time all of you were smiling.”
Evidence in the Resurrection is not simply whether Jesus came back from the dead but how his presence affected those whose lives were inalterably changed from fear to joy. This change is exquisitely revealed through Mary Magdalene’s encounter with Jesus in the garden. Their give and take conversation in John’s Gospel is instructive for us: He calls her woman. He calls her sir. He responds by saying her name Mary. She reacts with joy saying Rabbouni. He asks her to share with her brothers the good news. She goes to the disciples and announces to them: “I have seen the Lord!”
The conversation between Mary and Jesus in the garden forms an outline of how the Christian faith can work. At first, we may understand Jesus as an historic figure who was a healer and a teacher. We come to learn The Lord’s Prayer and to appreciate The Sermon on the Mount. Reading the New Testament, we can see how Jesus affected people, how he healed and taught and how he stood up against the principalities and powers.
Like all wise prophets, we can appreciate Jesus as a wisdom teacher. Over time, perhaps through prayer, through proximity to the sacraments, we come to develop a desire to know Jesus more deeply in a personal way as friend and companion. This closeness leads to an intimacy where we feel we are known by name. The feeling, “I am not alone,” is more than re-assuring. It forms the ground of our being.
This sense of being known – truly known – leads more deeply to an open heart and a ready mind to see how Jesus’ life, death and resurrection holds a profound and abiding truth about healing, forgiveness, and redemption.
Then, there comes a moment –unbidden- when we know that Jesus, our friend, is more than just a friend. We come to know him as our Savior.
Easter means there are many things we cannot see or fully comprehend. We see glimpses. The tip of an iceberg is just that, the tip. I know there is another side of the moon even though I have never seen it. You may watch a baseball game and see the nine players on the diamond. Each is ready for the pitch; and the ball is struck by the batter that forms into a triple play that transcends the game into a thing of beauty. We only see a glimpse of what is truly there. Music and art have the same transcending arc when one hears Bach’s St. Matthew Passion or views the paintings of Van Gogh’s “Starry Night” or Jackson Pollack’s “Summertime.” Easter confirms for us those intimations of deeper realities. Faith means that we see only the tip of glory.
The mystery of Easter is faith first, miracles second. It is by assent that one comes to see the meaning of the resurrection for our own lives. If Mary was transformed, if Paul was transformed and if John was transformed then we, too, can be transformed. The resurrection is not merely about eternal life but about sharing in that life right now. The resurrection is about a new life and a new world made up of both the living and the dead. It is also a world of the brave yet to be born who already carry within them the seeds of love planted long ago by God through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.
I once knew a young woman in hospice. And I would call her brave. She was cancer-ridden with not much time left to live. Her family stayed by her side. They told her how much they loved her and how much God loved her and that there would come a time when she would soon see God and know the absolute fullness of God’s love. She responded that she knew she was surrounded by love. Not too much later, she fell into a coma.
Days later, her parents were beside her bed and in the very last lingering moments of her earthly life, she suddenly came out of her coma, opened her eyes to a bright sunny day, looked outside of her room onto a beautiful garden, and smiled.
Some of you may ask is there a God like that who is our friend and not a stranger? It is a fair question in our day and age. So I have to answer you the best I can: I believe so. I know that the God who raised Jesus from the dead, who is the Savior of my life, will not let those we love ever go from His presence either in this life or in the next.
And now to God we give the praise, the honor, and the glory. Amen.
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be always acceptable in thy sight, O Lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.
We come to church this morning braver than we think. We gather this Easter confounded with many thoughts. Some may be thinking about how their Easter Dinner is going to go with family and friends today. For others, they may be thinking about how the story of the Empty Tomb relates to their own empty 401 (k) Plans. Still others may be remembering someone that they have lost who is near and dear to them. And, still for others, who are pondering more immediate things, are thinking, “Maybe I should time how long this sermon is going to be?”
Easter is all about God’s action for the World. This may be surprising to many since we like to think that we do everything ourselves; but, the Christian experience should tell us otherwise: the more we think about it the more we come to realize that it is all God’s doing – God’s work – We did not make up the Easter Story. We received it. So, you and I are invited by God in Jesus Christ to share in his victory over death. We are invited to “come and see.” We are offered a new way of being in relationship with God and of forming a new community of living in the belief that death has been overcome, that death itself is dead.
If you want to see beyond the vale of death to see the promise of eternal life, if you want to believe that there is more to this present life than what you know, and if want to be brave enough to step away from the conditioned coordinates of the world, then you have come to the right place. This is the moment to “come and see.”
The first thing to know about Easter is that it is not easy for poets and writers, for scientists and theologians, or for you and me to unravel with any certainty the mystery of the resurrection. One of the best examples of the problem is contained in the well-known Easter poem “Seven Stanzas at Easter “ by John Updike. Updike identifies the issue of the bodily resurrection of Jesus head-on in the first lines,
Make no mistake: If he rose at allEverything hinges on the word “if.” What if it did happen? What if it did not happen? The tension in our gospel lesson for today is whether Mary saw the dead, and now alive, Jesus and believed; or whether she believed it and then saw the Risen Christ.
It was as his body;
If the cells’ dissolution did not reverse, the molecules
Reknit, the amino acids rekindle
The Church will fall.
The earliest known Christian writing on the resurrection comes from The First Letter of Paul to the Corinthians. According to Paul, we can trust with confidence at least four truths: Peter and some other disciples found an empty tomb. Secondly, Peter and the other apostles came to believe that after Jesus’ death they had encountered him alive and well. Thirdly, days and months later, Jesus appeared to as many as 500 followers. And finally, Paul personally believed he encountered the Risen Christ.
In all these events, it is recorded that these once frightened and beleaguered disciples were changed – transformed -- into a brave and resolute community of faithful men and women who would risk their lives to share with Jew and Gentile, men and women, slave and free, rich and poor, the good news of Jesus Christ.
I am reminded of the story of a group of miners who were part of the California Gold Rush of 1849. They found a large deposit of the precious metal, but wanted to keep the discovery to themselves. They pledged that none of them would share their secret when they returned to town to get their supplies. And they kept their promise. Not one of them said a word about their find. But when they set out for their claim a few days later, they were surprised by a large group of people following them. “How did you know we had struck pay-dirt?” they asked. “No one said a thing,” they were told, “but you all used to be such a grouchy group when you came to town, and this time all of you were smiling.”
Evidence in the Resurrection is not simply whether Jesus came back from the dead but how his presence affected those whose lives were inalterably changed from fear to joy. This change is exquisitely revealed through Mary Magdalene’s encounter with Jesus in the garden. Their give and take conversation in John’s Gospel is instructive for us: He calls her woman. He calls her sir. He responds by saying her name Mary. She reacts with joy saying Rabbouni. He asks her to share with her brothers the good news. She goes to the disciples and announces to them: “I have seen the Lord!”
The conversation between Mary and Jesus in the garden forms an outline of how the Christian faith can work. At first, we may understand Jesus as an historic figure who was a healer and a teacher. We come to learn The Lord’s Prayer and to appreciate The Sermon on the Mount. Reading the New Testament, we can see how Jesus affected people, how he healed and taught and how he stood up against the principalities and powers.
Like all wise prophets, we can appreciate Jesus as a wisdom teacher. Over time, perhaps through prayer, through proximity to the sacraments, we come to develop a desire to know Jesus more deeply in a personal way as friend and companion. This closeness leads to an intimacy where we feel we are known by name. The feeling, “I am not alone,” is more than re-assuring. It forms the ground of our being.
This sense of being known – truly known – leads more deeply to an open heart and a ready mind to see how Jesus’ life, death and resurrection holds a profound and abiding truth about healing, forgiveness, and redemption.
Then, there comes a moment –unbidden- when we know that Jesus, our friend, is more than just a friend. We come to know him as our Savior.
Easter means there are many things we cannot see or fully comprehend. We see glimpses. The tip of an iceberg is just that, the tip. I know there is another side of the moon even though I have never seen it. You may watch a baseball game and see the nine players on the diamond. Each is ready for the pitch; and the ball is struck by the batter that forms into a triple play that transcends the game into a thing of beauty. We only see a glimpse of what is truly there. Music and art have the same transcending arc when one hears Bach’s St. Matthew Passion or views the paintings of Van Gogh’s “Starry Night” or Jackson Pollack’s “Summertime.” Easter confirms for us those intimations of deeper realities. Faith means that we see only the tip of glory.
The mystery of Easter is faith first, miracles second. It is by assent that one comes to see the meaning of the resurrection for our own lives. If Mary was transformed, if Paul was transformed and if John was transformed then we, too, can be transformed. The resurrection is not merely about eternal life but about sharing in that life right now. The resurrection is about a new life and a new world made up of both the living and the dead. It is also a world of the brave yet to be born who already carry within them the seeds of love planted long ago by God through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus Christ.
I once knew a young woman in hospice. And I would call her brave. She was cancer-ridden with not much time left to live. Her family stayed by her side. They told her how much they loved her and how much God loved her and that there would come a time when she would soon see God and know the absolute fullness of God’s love. She responded that she knew she was surrounded by love. Not too much later, she fell into a coma.
Days later, her parents were beside her bed and in the very last lingering moments of her earthly life, she suddenly came out of her coma, opened her eyes to a bright sunny day, looked outside of her room onto a beautiful garden, and smiled.
Some of you may ask is there a God like that who is our friend and not a stranger? It is a fair question in our day and age. So I have to answer you the best I can: I believe so. I know that the God who raised Jesus from the dead, who is the Savior of my life, will not let those we love ever go from His presence either in this life or in the next.
And now to God we give the praise, the honor, and the glory. Amen.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
Lent IV - Skip Windsor
Num. 21:4-9; Eph. 2:1-10; John 3:14-21
Let us pray:
O God, whose mercies cannot be numbered, be with us now and give us the Spirit of Christ. Amen.
In Tracy Kidder’s best selling book, Mountains Beyond Mountains, about the life and work of Dr. Paul Farmer in Haiti, there is a quote by Dr. Farmer that frames this morning’s meditation:
“I have fought the long defeat and brought other people on to fight the long defeat and I am not going to stop because we keep losing. I don’t dislike victory… We want to be on the winning team, but not at the risk of turning our backs on the losers, no, it is not worth it. So you fight the long defeat.”
This morning, I would like to invite you to reflect with me on the meaning of the long defeat and how this idea relates to our Christian life and faith. As many of you know, who have read Mountains Beyond Mountains, Farmer is borrowing the phrase from JRR Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings when the Lady Galadriel tells the hobbit Frodo Baggins about the long struggle against the evil forces of Sauron saying, “Together through the ages we have fought the long defeat.”
Explaining what he meant by these fatalistic words, Tolkien stated in a letter that he was a Christian and so he did not expect “history” to be anything but a long defeat – though it contains some samples or glimpses of final victory. For Tolkien and for Farmer and, as a matter of fact, for many Christians, the term “The Long Defeat” implies to those who use it that since the battle appears hopeless, any progress, or even a single life saved, can be viewed as a victory. The expression is used in some circles to denote the struggle against the ill effects of poverty and injustice and that is where I want to begin.
As most of you know, I returned last week from Haiti. I went with thirteen other parishioners and friends who brought their medical skills and education to many of the least, the last, the lost and the lonely. During the week, our International Mobile Medical Team saw upwards of 800 men, women and children.
While we were there, several women were seen who were very ill with pre-eclampsia, a child with whooping cough was diagnosed and referred, a man who was recovering from a gunshot wound to the head was learning physical therapy to move his arm again, and an elderly woman was given better sight because of the eyeglasses we brought. In Lazile, where our parish partnership is located, a child came to our clinic whose nearly severed finger was re-attached because of the skills of one of our young medical residents. Looking back, I could not help but think of these Haitian lives that were affected because our doctors were there.
Each time we go to Haiti from Christ Church, the truth of Farmer’s thoughts about ministry and mission among the poor as a long defeat seems more apt. The problems in Haiti are enormous. It is hard to know where to begin. I think most of us know a little bit about this country that is so close to the United States:
It is a nation of about 9.8 million people. It’s GNI (per capita per person) is $560 per person – or less than $2 dollars a day.
The wealth gap is enormous with 1% of the population owning 50% of the country’s resources.
Life expectancy for men is 59 and for women it is 63.
Out of 10,000 births, 620 women die compared to 11 in the United States.
Less than 25% of the water supply is drinkable. Less than half can read a word.
The list goes on…
So much of the United Nations Millennium Development Goal’s are focused on eradicating extreme poverty by 2015 in places such as Haiti, Africa, and other less developed countries. To review, these goals are:
In our gospel lesson for this morning, we heard some of the most well known and beloved lines in scripture from John 3:16:
“For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son that all who believe in Him will have everlasting life.” Martin Luther called these words as the “gospel in miniature” because it says it all about God’s purpose in the world through Jesus Christ.
I think I saw the numbers “316” once on the scoreboard at a Broncos football game in Denver. The area code for Kansas is 316. But, despite its popularity, what is not so well known is the context in which these words from John 3:16 are spoken.
They are spoken at night. They are words spoken by Jesus to Nicodemus. They are words of power to a powerful man too afraid to be seen by his peers. But, before Jesus says those well-known words, He talks about healing and refers to the ancient story of Moses and the disconsolate Israelites in the desert who have become disheartened and hopeless. Jesus reminds Nicodemus about how God told Moses to make a brass icon of a snake and place it on a pole so all the people could see it and become healed from the bites of venomous snakes.
Just as the snake was lifted up for healing, Jesus says, so must the Son of Man be lifted up for all not only to heal but also to save; and God will do this because God so loves the world. Later on, Nicodemus will come to understand this divine love and will risk his own life to ask for the body of Jesus so that it may be placed in the tomb of Joseph of Arimithea.
Along with countless other people around the world who go to Haiti to help assist and heal, we carried aloft the healing arts of medicine; but, more importantly, we found among the people of Haiti an inspiring faith in the midst of so much poverty. Holding up the Cross of Christ, the Haitian people are giving hope back to us who live in the United States to re-commit ourselves to the work of ministry and mission. It is their hope that gives us hope. On this trip, I found my faith renewed by the extraordinary acts of generosity the Haitian people give to one another.
On our last day in Haiti, we went to an orphanage of 73 children. A Haitian woman and her Argentinean husband founded their orphanage eight years ago. They moved back to Haiti from Argentina in order to help make a difference in her hometown of Port au Prince. Little did they know how they were going to give back.
Several weeks after they arrived they brought home a baby who had been left in a trashcan. Three weeks later several babies were left on their doorstep. Since then, this remarkable couple has taken in numerous babies and children to feed, cloth, and shelter-seeking funds for food from where ever God will provide.
I am reminded of the story of St. Theresa of Avila who told some businessmen that she was going to build a convent with ten pennies. The men scoffed at her saying she couldn’t build anything with ten pennies. She replied with ten pennies and God’s help she could build anything.
It may be true that to counter poverty and illness in the world is a long defeat; but, if we can carry in solidarity with the people of the world -- where there is no America, there is no Haiti, there is no Africa, where there is no China or Iraq – a hope for healing and reconciliation among all people then, perhaps, the dream of the MDG’s can be met. It begins where we are. We start from where we are. It starts here. It is here at the foot of the cross. The cross is where the long defeat will end in victory – victory over poverty, victory over illness, victory over sin and victory over death.
Thanks Be to God.
Let us pray:
O God, whose mercies cannot be numbered, be with us now and give us the Spirit of Christ. Amen.
In Tracy Kidder’s best selling book, Mountains Beyond Mountains, about the life and work of Dr. Paul Farmer in Haiti, there is a quote by Dr. Farmer that frames this morning’s meditation:
“I have fought the long defeat and brought other people on to fight the long defeat and I am not going to stop because we keep losing. I don’t dislike victory… We want to be on the winning team, but not at the risk of turning our backs on the losers, no, it is not worth it. So you fight the long defeat.”
This morning, I would like to invite you to reflect with me on the meaning of the long defeat and how this idea relates to our Christian life and faith. As many of you know, who have read Mountains Beyond Mountains, Farmer is borrowing the phrase from JRR Tolkien’s The Lord of the Rings when the Lady Galadriel tells the hobbit Frodo Baggins about the long struggle against the evil forces of Sauron saying, “Together through the ages we have fought the long defeat.”
Explaining what he meant by these fatalistic words, Tolkien stated in a letter that he was a Christian and so he did not expect “history” to be anything but a long defeat – though it contains some samples or glimpses of final victory. For Tolkien and for Farmer and, as a matter of fact, for many Christians, the term “The Long Defeat” implies to those who use it that since the battle appears hopeless, any progress, or even a single life saved, can be viewed as a victory. The expression is used in some circles to denote the struggle against the ill effects of poverty and injustice and that is where I want to begin.
As most of you know, I returned last week from Haiti. I went with thirteen other parishioners and friends who brought their medical skills and education to many of the least, the last, the lost and the lonely. During the week, our International Mobile Medical Team saw upwards of 800 men, women and children.
While we were there, several women were seen who were very ill with pre-eclampsia, a child with whooping cough was diagnosed and referred, a man who was recovering from a gunshot wound to the head was learning physical therapy to move his arm again, and an elderly woman was given better sight because of the eyeglasses we brought. In Lazile, where our parish partnership is located, a child came to our clinic whose nearly severed finger was re-attached because of the skills of one of our young medical residents. Looking back, I could not help but think of these Haitian lives that were affected because our doctors were there.
Each time we go to Haiti from Christ Church, the truth of Farmer’s thoughts about ministry and mission among the poor as a long defeat seems more apt. The problems in Haiti are enormous. It is hard to know where to begin. I think most of us know a little bit about this country that is so close to the United States:
It is a nation of about 9.8 million people. It’s GNI (per capita per person) is $560 per person – or less than $2 dollars a day.
The wealth gap is enormous with 1% of the population owning 50% of the country’s resources.
Life expectancy for men is 59 and for women it is 63.
Out of 10,000 births, 620 women die compared to 11 in the United States.
Less than 25% of the water supply is drinkable. Less than half can read a word.
The list goes on…
So much of the United Nations Millennium Development Goal’s are focused on eradicating extreme poverty by 2015 in places such as Haiti, Africa, and other less developed countries. To review, these goals are:
- Eradicate extreme poverty and hunger.
- Achieve universal primary education.
- Promote gender equality and empower women.
- Reduce child mortality.
- Improve maternal health.
- Combat HIV/AIDS, malaria, and other diseases.
- Ensure environmental sustainability.
- Develop a global partnership for development.
In our gospel lesson for this morning, we heard some of the most well known and beloved lines in scripture from John 3:16:
“For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son that all who believe in Him will have everlasting life.” Martin Luther called these words as the “gospel in miniature” because it says it all about God’s purpose in the world through Jesus Christ.
I think I saw the numbers “316” once on the scoreboard at a Broncos football game in Denver. The area code for Kansas is 316. But, despite its popularity, what is not so well known is the context in which these words from John 3:16 are spoken.
They are spoken at night. They are words spoken by Jesus to Nicodemus. They are words of power to a powerful man too afraid to be seen by his peers. But, before Jesus says those well-known words, He talks about healing and refers to the ancient story of Moses and the disconsolate Israelites in the desert who have become disheartened and hopeless. Jesus reminds Nicodemus about how God told Moses to make a brass icon of a snake and place it on a pole so all the people could see it and become healed from the bites of venomous snakes.
Just as the snake was lifted up for healing, Jesus says, so must the Son of Man be lifted up for all not only to heal but also to save; and God will do this because God so loves the world. Later on, Nicodemus will come to understand this divine love and will risk his own life to ask for the body of Jesus so that it may be placed in the tomb of Joseph of Arimithea.
Along with countless other people around the world who go to Haiti to help assist and heal, we carried aloft the healing arts of medicine; but, more importantly, we found among the people of Haiti an inspiring faith in the midst of so much poverty. Holding up the Cross of Christ, the Haitian people are giving hope back to us who live in the United States to re-commit ourselves to the work of ministry and mission. It is their hope that gives us hope. On this trip, I found my faith renewed by the extraordinary acts of generosity the Haitian people give to one another.
On our last day in Haiti, we went to an orphanage of 73 children. A Haitian woman and her Argentinean husband founded their orphanage eight years ago. They moved back to Haiti from Argentina in order to help make a difference in her hometown of Port au Prince. Little did they know how they were going to give back.
Several weeks after they arrived they brought home a baby who had been left in a trashcan. Three weeks later several babies were left on their doorstep. Since then, this remarkable couple has taken in numerous babies and children to feed, cloth, and shelter-seeking funds for food from where ever God will provide.
I am reminded of the story of St. Theresa of Avila who told some businessmen that she was going to build a convent with ten pennies. The men scoffed at her saying she couldn’t build anything with ten pennies. She replied with ten pennies and God’s help she could build anything.
It may be true that to counter poverty and illness in the world is a long defeat; but, if we can carry in solidarity with the people of the world -- where there is no America, there is no Haiti, there is no Africa, where there is no China or Iraq – a hope for healing and reconciliation among all people then, perhaps, the dream of the MDG’s can be met. It begins where we are. We start from where we are. It starts here. It is here at the foot of the cross. The cross is where the long defeat will end in victory – victory over poverty, victory over illness, victory over sin and victory over death.
Thanks Be to God.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Lent III - Peter Tierney
“For God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, and God’s weakness is stronger than human strength.”
I’m not sure what place wisdom has in the world we live in today. I don’t see many signs that our society values wisdom very highly. You certainly don’t hear the word mentioned very often—I rarely hear public figures described as wise in a serious way. At best, it’s used as a compliment--“Thank you for your wise words--without much serious consideration given to what actually qualifies as wisdom. And when was the last time you turned on the news and heard the anchor say, “And now, to help shed some light on this subject, we’ve invited Dr. So-and-So, a very wise person, to join us.” No—who do we hear from on the news? Experts! We live in a world that values expertise over wisdom, and woe to the expert who makes a mistake or turns out to be wrong! Is there anyone more readily condemned and ridiculed than the mistaken expert? After all, the expert isn’t supposed to make mistakes, they are supposed to have complete mastery of their field—that’s what makes them an expert! And I think this is the chief difference between wisdom and expertise: what makes somebody wise is knowing what they do not know; what makes somebody an expert is knowing everything about something. The wise person doesn’t expect to know everything, but the expert has to, because the moment you slip up, you cease to be an expert.
Now if I am right, and our world does value expertise more than wisdom, then that means that we have a particularly low tolerance for failure. The expert is not allowed to fail, and if they do, then we’d better find a better expert to solve our problems or answer our questions! Failure is not an option in the world of experts. There is no mercy for the expert, there is only the relentless demand for accuracy and success. We see this manifested in so many ways—in the demand for excellence in education, in the unforgiving expectations we have for healthcare; in the standards that govern workplaces.
Now, this situation should strike all of us who have come here to a Christian church this morning as very peculiar, for a couple of reasons. First, if you search through the Bible, you will find it chock-full of references to wisdom—praising wisdom, talking about the wisdom of God, holding up wisdom as a great virtue—but the only experts you will find are experts in war, and the attitude toward them is ambivalent. The Bible doesn’t have much use for experts, and it doesn’t ever suggest that expertise in anything is a virtue more valuable than wisdom. Second, and more importantly, we are gathered here to remember and celebrate a colossal failure. Jesus, the reason we are here today, ends his life on a cross. Jesus’ death on the cross is the central fact of his life—he doesn’t establish a school to preserve his teachings as many teachers do; he doesn’t lead a social revolution that successfully installs lasting justice and peace; he doesn’t successfully expel the Roman soldiers from the Jewish homeland, as many of his followers wanted him to do. Jesus doesn’t do any of the things one might reasonably expect a savior to accomplish; instead, he dies a criminal’s death on a cross.
There are some people who would like to make Jesus into some kind of expert. Some want him to be a religious expert: if we could just get into the same kind of groove as Jesus, then we can find our way to God. Others want to think of him as a moral expert: if we could only follow Jesus’ teachings, we could make the world a better place. These approaches fly in the face of what St. Paul says, “The message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved, it is the power of God.” The approaches to Jesus that turn him into an expert have no place for the cross, because they forget that Jesus’ relationship with God and his teachings led him into a confrontation with the religious and political powers of the world—the experts of his time—and that confrontation ended in his death. Following Jesus doesn’t mean that the world is going to snap into focus and resolve all of its problems. We follow Jesus because we see in his death and resurrection the clearest instance of God’s overwhelming love for the world despite its cruelty, its failures, and its weakness, and we cannot help but dedicate ourselves to telling people about that love.
No wonder Paul calls this proclamation foolishness. When someone comes to the Church asking what we have to offer them that they cannot find anywhere else, we are compelled to point to a 33 year old man nailed to a cross and say, that’s what we have. To a world of experts, this is indeed foolishness. But to those who value wisdom, who understand that they do not already have all the answers, they may see that the foolishness of the cross has something to offer them, that the message of Christ’s death and resurrection contains the power and wisdom of God, that God’s foolishness, written large on the cross, is wiser than what human wisdom can devise for itself.
The message of the cross is that God does not despise the weak, or the foolish; the sick or the helpless; God does not have contempt for failure or for the people who fall short in life. Instead, God chooses to become one of those people; God chooses failure, by the world’s standards, and makes it into the way of salvation for the world that rejected him.
The world of experts has no place for foolishness and weakness. Every problem must be solved, every ignorance banished, every sickness cured. The world of experts is a world that will settle for nothing less than perfection right now. But in the Gospel of Jesus Christ we have been given a message of hope that runs counter to the message of the experts; and we have a duty to proclaim that message. Through the cross, God tells us that the world is not first a problem to be fixed, but a place filled with people who need to be loved—and if we love the world despite its weakness and its failings, then that love will do more than our expertise and our human wisdom can ever hope to accomplish.
There is a place for experts in the world; they make valuable contributions to our society, and their work is necessary for advancement and achievement. But we must not allow the principles of expertise to be the only way we view our world, and the people in it. We need the foolishness of the cross—the foolishness of God’s merciful and compassionate love—which is wise than human wisdom, and stronger than human strength.
I’m not sure what place wisdom has in the world we live in today. I don’t see many signs that our society values wisdom very highly. You certainly don’t hear the word mentioned very often—I rarely hear public figures described as wise in a serious way. At best, it’s used as a compliment--“Thank you for your wise words--without much serious consideration given to what actually qualifies as wisdom. And when was the last time you turned on the news and heard the anchor say, “And now, to help shed some light on this subject, we’ve invited Dr. So-and-So, a very wise person, to join us.” No—who do we hear from on the news? Experts! We live in a world that values expertise over wisdom, and woe to the expert who makes a mistake or turns out to be wrong! Is there anyone more readily condemned and ridiculed than the mistaken expert? After all, the expert isn’t supposed to make mistakes, they are supposed to have complete mastery of their field—that’s what makes them an expert! And I think this is the chief difference between wisdom and expertise: what makes somebody wise is knowing what they do not know; what makes somebody an expert is knowing everything about something. The wise person doesn’t expect to know everything, but the expert has to, because the moment you slip up, you cease to be an expert.
Now if I am right, and our world does value expertise more than wisdom, then that means that we have a particularly low tolerance for failure. The expert is not allowed to fail, and if they do, then we’d better find a better expert to solve our problems or answer our questions! Failure is not an option in the world of experts. There is no mercy for the expert, there is only the relentless demand for accuracy and success. We see this manifested in so many ways—in the demand for excellence in education, in the unforgiving expectations we have for healthcare; in the standards that govern workplaces.
Now, this situation should strike all of us who have come here to a Christian church this morning as very peculiar, for a couple of reasons. First, if you search through the Bible, you will find it chock-full of references to wisdom—praising wisdom, talking about the wisdom of God, holding up wisdom as a great virtue—but the only experts you will find are experts in war, and the attitude toward them is ambivalent. The Bible doesn’t have much use for experts, and it doesn’t ever suggest that expertise in anything is a virtue more valuable than wisdom. Second, and more importantly, we are gathered here to remember and celebrate a colossal failure. Jesus, the reason we are here today, ends his life on a cross. Jesus’ death on the cross is the central fact of his life—he doesn’t establish a school to preserve his teachings as many teachers do; he doesn’t lead a social revolution that successfully installs lasting justice and peace; he doesn’t successfully expel the Roman soldiers from the Jewish homeland, as many of his followers wanted him to do. Jesus doesn’t do any of the things one might reasonably expect a savior to accomplish; instead, he dies a criminal’s death on a cross.
There are some people who would like to make Jesus into some kind of expert. Some want him to be a religious expert: if we could just get into the same kind of groove as Jesus, then we can find our way to God. Others want to think of him as a moral expert: if we could only follow Jesus’ teachings, we could make the world a better place. These approaches fly in the face of what St. Paul says, “The message about the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved, it is the power of God.” The approaches to Jesus that turn him into an expert have no place for the cross, because they forget that Jesus’ relationship with God and his teachings led him into a confrontation with the religious and political powers of the world—the experts of his time—and that confrontation ended in his death. Following Jesus doesn’t mean that the world is going to snap into focus and resolve all of its problems. We follow Jesus because we see in his death and resurrection the clearest instance of God’s overwhelming love for the world despite its cruelty, its failures, and its weakness, and we cannot help but dedicate ourselves to telling people about that love.
No wonder Paul calls this proclamation foolishness. When someone comes to the Church asking what we have to offer them that they cannot find anywhere else, we are compelled to point to a 33 year old man nailed to a cross and say, that’s what we have. To a world of experts, this is indeed foolishness. But to those who value wisdom, who understand that they do not already have all the answers, they may see that the foolishness of the cross has something to offer them, that the message of Christ’s death and resurrection contains the power and wisdom of God, that God’s foolishness, written large on the cross, is wiser than what human wisdom can devise for itself.
The message of the cross is that God does not despise the weak, or the foolish; the sick or the helpless; God does not have contempt for failure or for the people who fall short in life. Instead, God chooses to become one of those people; God chooses failure, by the world’s standards, and makes it into the way of salvation for the world that rejected him.
The world of experts has no place for foolishness and weakness. Every problem must be solved, every ignorance banished, every sickness cured. The world of experts is a world that will settle for nothing less than perfection right now. But in the Gospel of Jesus Christ we have been given a message of hope that runs counter to the message of the experts; and we have a duty to proclaim that message. Through the cross, God tells us that the world is not first a problem to be fixed, but a place filled with people who need to be loved—and if we love the world despite its weakness and its failings, then that love will do more than our expertise and our human wisdom can ever hope to accomplish.
There is a place for experts in the world; they make valuable contributions to our society, and their work is necessary for advancement and achievement. But we must not allow the principles of expertise to be the only way we view our world, and the people in it. We need the foolishness of the cross—the foolishness of God’s merciful and compassionate love—which is wise than human wisdom, and stronger than human strength.
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Lent II - Tim Crellin
Good morning! It’s a pleasure to be with you today. Many thanks to Skip and to Peter for giving me this opportunity to preach and to thank you for your support. Last summer, you helped to make the B-SAFE program happen at Holy Spirit in Mattapan, one of our six sites. It’s only through the participation and support of our partner churches that we’re able to make this program possible for so many young people across the city of Boston and in Chelsea. Thank you for being willing to share in this ministry with us. We’re grateful that you’ve already signed up for a week at Holy Spirit again this summer.
In January, I travelled with millions of others to Washington, DC to witness the inauguration of our new president. I went with my dad, an Obama supporter from early on, who wanted to be there to see the inauguration in person. And I must say that it was inspiring to experience an event which most of us never imagined was possible: a Black man becoming President of the United States. As Barack Obama noted in his address, his father could not have been served lunch in a restaurant in Washington, D.C. as a young man, and now he was becoming our nation’s leader. A similar sentiment was expressed over and over again last Saturday as many of us from across the Diocese gathered to observe the twentieth anniversary of the consecration of Barbara Harris, the first woman bishop in the Anglican Comunion. Even when the first women were ordained priests in Philadelphia in 1974, the idea of a woman bishop seemed out of reach.
These events, the fulfillment of dreams, the coming to fruition of long and deeply held hopes, call to mind God’s promise to Abraham, as we heard in the first reading this morning. Abraham is an old man – ninety-nine years old! His elderly wife was never able to have children. And then, God comes to Abraham, saying, “This is my covenant with you: You shall be the ancestor of a multitude of nations. I will make you exceedingly fruitful; and I will make nations of you.” (Gen. 17:1-7,15-16). This is an outrageous statement! It’s absurd! It’s outlandish – beyond the limits of possibility. Sort of like the idea of a Black president, or a woman bishop, even a woman Presiding Bishop would have been not so many years ago. But as the angel said to Mary, the Mother of our Lord, as she gave voice to the impossibility of what God was saying to her, “Nothing will be impossible with God.” (Lk. 1:37).
The outlandishness continues in our reading from the Gospel this morning, expressed by our hapless friend, Peter. Jesus has just named him the rock on which the Church will be built, and that in itself must have seemed unlikely enough to Peter. What kind of church could be built on the rock of a poor fisherman from Galilee? But now Jesus goes a step too far. He begins to teach them – and he speaks to them words that are outrageous: “The Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days he will rise again.” (Mk. 8:31). It’s hard to know which part of this statement would have offended Peter’s sensibilities most. Was it the rejection? The suffering? The being killed? The Messiah was not supposed to suffer or be rejected or be killed. Or maybe it was the rising again. Had Jesus lost his grip on reality? How could someone who had died, who had been dead for three days, how could that person rise again?
“Can a child be born to a man who is a hundred years old?” Abraham asks, laughing at God. “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” an astonished Mary says to the angel Gabriel. And Peter takes the Lord aside and rebukes him for his crazy ideas. How hard it is indeed for us to trust God. God’s promise is often more than we can grasp. Perhaps this is our work during Lent. Perhaps these are the new and contrite hearts God wants: hearts that can trust. Hearts that can believe. Hearts that are not afraid to hope in God’s promise. Hearts that can hear those powerful words: “Nothing will be impossible with God” and not begin to recite the litany of reasons why they can’t be true. Perhaps this is our work during this season of Lent: to open ourselves to the possibility that is God.
When I came to St. Stephen’s as vicar in October of 1999, we were just about the smallest church in the Diocese. We were a dying church. We had nothing but problems. I have to tell you that many people in the Diocese discouraged me from taking the job. And after about a month, I was convinced that I should have listened. Today, St. Stephen’s has the fourth largest budget of any church in the Diocese. And we spend 92% of our money directly on outreach. Last year, we brought fifty congregations together to provide high quality educational summer programming for 530 children and teens – the largest church based program in the city of Boston. We’re the Mayor’s largest partner for teen summer jobs. With our summer program and after school programs, we provide for young people from poor neighborhoods almost every day of the year. All of the reasons why what we do could never work, still exist. And I still lie awake at night on a regular basis worrying about all the same things I’ve always worried about – mostly money, to be frank. But God has done something no one thought possible. God has taken the least likely and built it up for his purposes.
As we go about telling the story of what we do at St. Stephen’s – telling it to potential funders and supporters, we often use statistics. And those statistics are usually about violence – about the amount of violence our kids in the city are exposed to, about how many acts of violence there have been in the neighborhoods we serve. And we talk about the work we do as an antidote to the violence. We keep kids safe. We give them a safe place to be after school and during the summer, so that they are less likely to witness acts of violence, so that they are less likely to be victims of violence, so that they are less likely to be involved in any way. A place where they can learn non-violent ways to solve conflict. This is an important part of the work we do. In fact, our work was born for this in many ways. I started these programs because I saw so many children hanging out after school and on summer days in the park behind the church, a park in which drugs are being sold and in which many young men have died. My own son was in his classroom at the John F. Kennedy School near my home in Jamaica Plain a couple of weeks ago when a man was murdered just across the street from my son’s classroom window at 1:30 in the afternoon, so I have a firsthand picture of the effects of violence on children.
But I heard a statistic recently that I found in some ways more disturbing than any fact I’ve ever heard about violence in our city. The Boston Foundation and the Boston Private Industry Council tracked down the group of young people who were in ninth grade in the Boston Public Schools in the year 2000. Now most parents in Needham, I imagine, who had ninth graders in the year 2000 would have expected to attend their college graduation last spring. But with the exception of the comparatively small number of students who attend Boston’s three exam schools, the Boston Foundation and the Private Industry Council discovered that only seven percent of the students who were in the ninth grade in the Boston Public Schools in the year 2000 graduated from college last year. Seven percent! Can you imagine sending your child to school in a district in which only seven percent of the students make it through college? To me, this is an outrage. Here, in Boston, the Athens of America, a relatively wealthy city, the home of some of the finest schools in the country, we can only get seven percent of our public school students through college? This is a gross example of neglect.
In addition to being an outrage, this is also a very difficult statistic to change. And it’s only going to get harder. Budget cuts are decimating the system. The cards are stacked against our kids: poverty, racism, teen pregnancy, the prevalence of guns and drugs. The lack of economic opportunity even before the recession hit, the lack of positive role models, the soaring cost of a college education. The Boston Foundation and the Private Industry Council, like the rest of us, take a long hard look at this situation and find it appalling, but we can’t find easy answers to change it. In fact, we look at it and mostly come up with a lot of reasons why it can’t easily change. But what was it the angel said to Mary? Nothing will be impossible with God.
Hasn’t God proved it over and over? Nothing is impossible. It was crazy to think that old Abraham could become a father, let alone the ancestor of a multitude of nations. It was outlandish to think that Jesus could be killed and rise again on the third day. It may be silly to think that St. Stephen’s can make a difference in the college graduation rate of students in the city of Boston. And yet we have to try. We have to believe in God’s promise. We have to have new hearts that can trust God and ready hands that can go to work. And the fact is that if people in Needham help us, if people in Needham and Dover and Wellesley, and Winchester and Lincoln and Concord, if people in Hingham and Chestnut Hill join together with people in Mattapan and Roxbury and Dorchester and the South End, if we all join together with hearts that trust in God’s promise and hands that are ready to work, perhaps we can make a real difference.
One of our newest program components is called the College and Career program. Through it, we’re pairing up our juniors and seniors with volunteers from our partner churches to help students negotiate the college process. On average, the Boston Public Schools provide one guidance counselor for every 350 high school students. On top of that, many families have never been through this process before. We can step in and play the role guidance departments should but can’t play, and help families support their children. For example, I’m working with a senior, the son of a single mother who is an immigrant from South America, who actually got his applications out and passed the MCAS with a high score which qualified him for the John Adams State Scholarship. And so I said to him, “Have you done your FAFSA?” “What’s a FAFSA?” he said. No one had told him that he needed to complete the federal financial aid application to be eligible for any kind of aid. Sometimes in small ways we can make a big difference. With this College and Career program in place, we can now say to an incoming six year old in our program, “We’re going to be here for you, year round, from now until you get through college.” And as some of our students begin to get through school, they’re going to show others that it’s possible. They’re going to be role models in their communities. If we can establish some places in the city where thirty, or forty, or fifty percent of the students get through college, imagine the impact that could have.
But, we must put our faith and trust in the sometimes unseen work of God. That fact is that God works in and through us. I don’t know how many teen pregnancies we may have prevented over the years. I don’t know how many kids haven’t tried drugs or witnessed acts of violence because they were involved in one of our programs. But I do know that a recent Harvard University study showed that kids are most likely to try drugs for the first time or have sex for the first time or become involved in gang activity during the after school hours and during summer vacation. And I know that young people in Boston spent more than 200,000 after school and summer vacation hours engaged in educational and enrichment activities through our programs last year alone.
God is at work. I ask you to believe in God’s promise. I ask you to consider this Lent how God might be leading you to believe, and how God might be inviting you to put your hands to work. I am convinced that together, the people of our Diocese can change many lives, and maybe even change the culture that has led to the unacceptable conditions our children and teens face in the city. We need your help to do it – through B-SAFE, through our after school programs, by building relationships across the barriers of race and class which have separated us from our brothers and sisters, with volunteer time and financial support and of course, prayer. Together we can overcome obstacles and take important steps in the direction of the kingdom of God.
Will anything be impossible with God? Not if it has to do with justice. Not if it has to do with fairness. When Jesus was beginning his public ministry, he went into the synagogue and picked up the scroll of the prophet Isaiah and read: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of site to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” (Lk. 4:18-19). And the people looked at each other said, “Who is this guy? Is not this Joseph’s son?” In fact, it was. Joseph’s son, who just happened to be the Messiah, the king of kings and Lord of Lords. The one who died and on the third day rose again. Nothing is impossible with God. God’s promise, as outrageous as it may seem at times, is from everlasting. It is the promise of a kingdom of justice and peace in which we all are invited to live. Let us, during this Lent, cleanse our hearts from doubt and fear and believe – believe not only in what God is doing, but in what God can do in and through us. Amen.
In January, I travelled with millions of others to Washington, DC to witness the inauguration of our new president. I went with my dad, an Obama supporter from early on, who wanted to be there to see the inauguration in person. And I must say that it was inspiring to experience an event which most of us never imagined was possible: a Black man becoming President of the United States. As Barack Obama noted in his address, his father could not have been served lunch in a restaurant in Washington, D.C. as a young man, and now he was becoming our nation’s leader. A similar sentiment was expressed over and over again last Saturday as many of us from across the Diocese gathered to observe the twentieth anniversary of the consecration of Barbara Harris, the first woman bishop in the Anglican Comunion. Even when the first women were ordained priests in Philadelphia in 1974, the idea of a woman bishop seemed out of reach.
These events, the fulfillment of dreams, the coming to fruition of long and deeply held hopes, call to mind God’s promise to Abraham, as we heard in the first reading this morning. Abraham is an old man – ninety-nine years old! His elderly wife was never able to have children. And then, God comes to Abraham, saying, “This is my covenant with you: You shall be the ancestor of a multitude of nations. I will make you exceedingly fruitful; and I will make nations of you.” (Gen. 17:1-7,15-16). This is an outrageous statement! It’s absurd! It’s outlandish – beyond the limits of possibility. Sort of like the idea of a Black president, or a woman bishop, even a woman Presiding Bishop would have been not so many years ago. But as the angel said to Mary, the Mother of our Lord, as she gave voice to the impossibility of what God was saying to her, “Nothing will be impossible with God.” (Lk. 1:37).
The outlandishness continues in our reading from the Gospel this morning, expressed by our hapless friend, Peter. Jesus has just named him the rock on which the Church will be built, and that in itself must have seemed unlikely enough to Peter. What kind of church could be built on the rock of a poor fisherman from Galilee? But now Jesus goes a step too far. He begins to teach them – and he speaks to them words that are outrageous: “The Son of Man must undergo great suffering, and be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and the scribes, and be killed, and after three days he will rise again.” (Mk. 8:31). It’s hard to know which part of this statement would have offended Peter’s sensibilities most. Was it the rejection? The suffering? The being killed? The Messiah was not supposed to suffer or be rejected or be killed. Or maybe it was the rising again. Had Jesus lost his grip on reality? How could someone who had died, who had been dead for three days, how could that person rise again?
“Can a child be born to a man who is a hundred years old?” Abraham asks, laughing at God. “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” an astonished Mary says to the angel Gabriel. And Peter takes the Lord aside and rebukes him for his crazy ideas. How hard it is indeed for us to trust God. God’s promise is often more than we can grasp. Perhaps this is our work during Lent. Perhaps these are the new and contrite hearts God wants: hearts that can trust. Hearts that can believe. Hearts that are not afraid to hope in God’s promise. Hearts that can hear those powerful words: “Nothing will be impossible with God” and not begin to recite the litany of reasons why they can’t be true. Perhaps this is our work during this season of Lent: to open ourselves to the possibility that is God.
When I came to St. Stephen’s as vicar in October of 1999, we were just about the smallest church in the Diocese. We were a dying church. We had nothing but problems. I have to tell you that many people in the Diocese discouraged me from taking the job. And after about a month, I was convinced that I should have listened. Today, St. Stephen’s has the fourth largest budget of any church in the Diocese. And we spend 92% of our money directly on outreach. Last year, we brought fifty congregations together to provide high quality educational summer programming for 530 children and teens – the largest church based program in the city of Boston. We’re the Mayor’s largest partner for teen summer jobs. With our summer program and after school programs, we provide for young people from poor neighborhoods almost every day of the year. All of the reasons why what we do could never work, still exist. And I still lie awake at night on a regular basis worrying about all the same things I’ve always worried about – mostly money, to be frank. But God has done something no one thought possible. God has taken the least likely and built it up for his purposes.
As we go about telling the story of what we do at St. Stephen’s – telling it to potential funders and supporters, we often use statistics. And those statistics are usually about violence – about the amount of violence our kids in the city are exposed to, about how many acts of violence there have been in the neighborhoods we serve. And we talk about the work we do as an antidote to the violence. We keep kids safe. We give them a safe place to be after school and during the summer, so that they are less likely to witness acts of violence, so that they are less likely to be victims of violence, so that they are less likely to be involved in any way. A place where they can learn non-violent ways to solve conflict. This is an important part of the work we do. In fact, our work was born for this in many ways. I started these programs because I saw so many children hanging out after school and on summer days in the park behind the church, a park in which drugs are being sold and in which many young men have died. My own son was in his classroom at the John F. Kennedy School near my home in Jamaica Plain a couple of weeks ago when a man was murdered just across the street from my son’s classroom window at 1:30 in the afternoon, so I have a firsthand picture of the effects of violence on children.
But I heard a statistic recently that I found in some ways more disturbing than any fact I’ve ever heard about violence in our city. The Boston Foundation and the Boston Private Industry Council tracked down the group of young people who were in ninth grade in the Boston Public Schools in the year 2000. Now most parents in Needham, I imagine, who had ninth graders in the year 2000 would have expected to attend their college graduation last spring. But with the exception of the comparatively small number of students who attend Boston’s three exam schools, the Boston Foundation and the Private Industry Council discovered that only seven percent of the students who were in the ninth grade in the Boston Public Schools in the year 2000 graduated from college last year. Seven percent! Can you imagine sending your child to school in a district in which only seven percent of the students make it through college? To me, this is an outrage. Here, in Boston, the Athens of America, a relatively wealthy city, the home of some of the finest schools in the country, we can only get seven percent of our public school students through college? This is a gross example of neglect.
In addition to being an outrage, this is also a very difficult statistic to change. And it’s only going to get harder. Budget cuts are decimating the system. The cards are stacked against our kids: poverty, racism, teen pregnancy, the prevalence of guns and drugs. The lack of economic opportunity even before the recession hit, the lack of positive role models, the soaring cost of a college education. The Boston Foundation and the Private Industry Council, like the rest of us, take a long hard look at this situation and find it appalling, but we can’t find easy answers to change it. In fact, we look at it and mostly come up with a lot of reasons why it can’t easily change. But what was it the angel said to Mary? Nothing will be impossible with God.
Hasn’t God proved it over and over? Nothing is impossible. It was crazy to think that old Abraham could become a father, let alone the ancestor of a multitude of nations. It was outlandish to think that Jesus could be killed and rise again on the third day. It may be silly to think that St. Stephen’s can make a difference in the college graduation rate of students in the city of Boston. And yet we have to try. We have to believe in God’s promise. We have to have new hearts that can trust God and ready hands that can go to work. And the fact is that if people in Needham help us, if people in Needham and Dover and Wellesley, and Winchester and Lincoln and Concord, if people in Hingham and Chestnut Hill join together with people in Mattapan and Roxbury and Dorchester and the South End, if we all join together with hearts that trust in God’s promise and hands that are ready to work, perhaps we can make a real difference.
One of our newest program components is called the College and Career program. Through it, we’re pairing up our juniors and seniors with volunteers from our partner churches to help students negotiate the college process. On average, the Boston Public Schools provide one guidance counselor for every 350 high school students. On top of that, many families have never been through this process before. We can step in and play the role guidance departments should but can’t play, and help families support their children. For example, I’m working with a senior, the son of a single mother who is an immigrant from South America, who actually got his applications out and passed the MCAS with a high score which qualified him for the John Adams State Scholarship. And so I said to him, “Have you done your FAFSA?” “What’s a FAFSA?” he said. No one had told him that he needed to complete the federal financial aid application to be eligible for any kind of aid. Sometimes in small ways we can make a big difference. With this College and Career program in place, we can now say to an incoming six year old in our program, “We’re going to be here for you, year round, from now until you get through college.” And as some of our students begin to get through school, they’re going to show others that it’s possible. They’re going to be role models in their communities. If we can establish some places in the city where thirty, or forty, or fifty percent of the students get through college, imagine the impact that could have.
But, we must put our faith and trust in the sometimes unseen work of God. That fact is that God works in and through us. I don’t know how many teen pregnancies we may have prevented over the years. I don’t know how many kids haven’t tried drugs or witnessed acts of violence because they were involved in one of our programs. But I do know that a recent Harvard University study showed that kids are most likely to try drugs for the first time or have sex for the first time or become involved in gang activity during the after school hours and during summer vacation. And I know that young people in Boston spent more than 200,000 after school and summer vacation hours engaged in educational and enrichment activities through our programs last year alone.
God is at work. I ask you to believe in God’s promise. I ask you to consider this Lent how God might be leading you to believe, and how God might be inviting you to put your hands to work. I am convinced that together, the people of our Diocese can change many lives, and maybe even change the culture that has led to the unacceptable conditions our children and teens face in the city. We need your help to do it – through B-SAFE, through our after school programs, by building relationships across the barriers of race and class which have separated us from our brothers and sisters, with volunteer time and financial support and of course, prayer. Together we can overcome obstacles and take important steps in the direction of the kingdom of God.
Will anything be impossible with God? Not if it has to do with justice. Not if it has to do with fairness. When Jesus was beginning his public ministry, he went into the synagogue and picked up the scroll of the prophet Isaiah and read: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of site to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” (Lk. 4:18-19). And the people looked at each other said, “Who is this guy? Is not this Joseph’s son?” In fact, it was. Joseph’s son, who just happened to be the Messiah, the king of kings and Lord of Lords. The one who died and on the third day rose again. Nothing is impossible with God. God’s promise, as outrageous as it may seem at times, is from everlasting. It is the promise of a kingdom of justice and peace in which we all are invited to live. Let us, during this Lent, cleanse our hearts from doubt and fear and believe – believe not only in what God is doing, but in what God can do in and through us. Amen.
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