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,

Make no mistake: If he rose at all
It was as his body;
If the cells’ dissolution did not reverse, the molecules
Reknit, the amino acids rekindle
The Church will fall.

Everything 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.
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.

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:

1. Eradicate extreme poverty and hunger.
2. Achieve universal primary education.
3. Promote gender equality and empower women.
4. Reduce child mortality.
5. Improve maternal health.
6. Combat HIV/AIDS, malaria, and other diseases.
7. Ensure environmental sustainability.
8. Develop a global partnership for development.

Looking at Haiti and how far they still have to go, it does seem like a long defeat with such lofty global goals seeming further and further out of reach. And, yet, while we were there seem to be these small glimmers of victory. We saw men and women with the Roman Catholic Twinning project helping to construct a school, manage a medical clinic and build a clean water well and irrigation system. We found out that the hospital where we stay in Leogane is going to re-open in April with 40 beds. We learned about the national immunization program through UNESCO to help fight measles. Some of us met an American Fulbright Scholar who teaches at Yale who will come to Haiti this summer to execute a strategic plan for effective hospital administration for the Leogane hospital. This list goes on as well. Different people from diverse places are all taking a piece of the problem in order to make a difference where they can and when they can in Haiti.
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.

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.

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.

Epiphany V - Skip Windsor

Isaiah 40:21-31; Mark 1:29-39

Let us pray: God be in our heads and in our understanding. God be in our eyes and in our looking. God be in our mouths and in our speaking. God be in our hearts and in our thinking. God be at our end and in our departing. Amen.

The reading from the Book of Isaiah offers us a fresh vision of God and creation, of oppression and liberation, of weakness and strength, of evolution and emancipation. Those who read scripture and are familiar with Isaiah know it is a major book of the Bible. It is a long book – one of the longest in scripture -- that recalls the oppression of the Jewish people by the Babylonian king, Nebuchadnezzar II, in 586 B.C., to their liberation in 539 B.C. by Cyrus of Persia.

Using the analogy of smallness and greatness, God tells the people that the Babylonians are as small and insignificant as grasshoppers and being like insects they can be crushed without effort. God tells the Jewish people that He is a Great God who called them into covenant and that as, the Creator, there is a vast separateness – that cannot be breached by evil and that the dimensions of God’s understanding are unknowable. “My ways are not your ways,” says the Lord. Yet, God comforts the Jewish people assuring them that they will become like eagles and that their strength will be renewed.

Isaiah’s vision as a prophet allowed him to see the world clearly. He reminds them of God’s words to Moses, “I bore you on eagle’s wings and brought you to myself” (Ex. 19:4). They are not to forget that God carried them from oppression to liberation. For Isaiah and other biblical prophets and sages, the eagle is a symbol of strength, wisdom, and vision.

And this Sunday, I think it is an appropriate occasion to remember two eagles whose strength, wisdom and vision changed the world. The two prophets, who were like eagles, worth remembering this morning are Charles Darwin and Abraham Lincoln whose birthdays we celebrate later this week.

Darwin and Lincoln were both born February 12th, 1809. They are two 19th century giants who have greatly affected our understanding of history and of human nature. And I believe it is worth a few minutes this morning to reflect upon how these two men offer a pattern of living and can help shape our understanding of how to cope with loss and how God’s redeeming power can heal and strengthen.

This Thursday, we remember the 200th birthday of the British scientist Charles Darwin, who developed the theory of natural selection that underlines the theory of evolution. Studying at Cambridge for the ministry, Darwin was always more interested finding beetles than reading theology.

He jumped at the opportunity to sail the world on the HMS Beagle that lead to a five-year voyage around South America and spending time in the Galapagos Islands. As a curious and astute field scientist, Darwin collected specimens and recorded in journals everything he saw and studied. He drew dangerous conclusions about common descent and natural selection. Because of his theory’s explosive nature about God and creation, Darwin waited twenty years before making his findings public. The Origin of Species was finally published in 1859 and caused an uproar that still reverberates to this day.

The evolution debate continues between advocates of Creationism – belief in the Bible as the scientific text – and Evolution – the thought that empirical evidence proves that the development of all organisms by natural causes comes from other forms of life that were most likely and ultimately much simpler and primitive. Some modern researchers believe that Darwin’s advancement of evolution was not only incubated in his natural scientific curiosity and tireless ability to record everything he saw but also in his opposition to slavery.

In a new book called Darwin’s Sacred Cause, the authors put forth the theory that in Darwin’s search for the roots of humanity, his Abolitionist upbringing and his travels around the world brought him to see man’s inhumanity to man through the slave trade. His belief in the common descent of man implied for him a single origin for black and white of a shared ancestry and led him to search for the roots of humankind. It is an understanding that would come to another boy born the same day in 1809 across the Atlantic in a small modest log cabin.

Abraham Lincoln was no scientist. He was a lawyer. Like Darwin he could write. His words in speeches were like a Parthenon of language conveying in a few words what it took others an hour to say. Neither was Lincoln a traditional Christian. He did not accept denominationalism but took seriously the words of Jesus, “to love one another as I have loved you.” The Civil War shaped him and shaped a divided nation. The content of his character came into full bloom during the war as Lincoln held the Union together in the dark hours when both sides slaughtered a generation of young men.

In his Gettysburg Address, Lincoln said, “In a larger sense, we cannot dedicate—we cannot consecrate—we cannot hallow this ground. The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract… It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us—that from these honored dead we take increased devotion…”

Like Darwin, Lincoln came to oppose slavery seeing it destroying not only a nation but also destroying the souls of both the oppressed and the oppressor. In September 1862, Lincoln issued the Emancipation Proclamation declaring that the end had come when one man could live off the sweat of another man’s labor. During this time, it is said that Lincoln sought always to discern and understand God’s will even when personal tragedy struck. Like Darwin, Lincoln lost a child. Darwin lost his beloved 10-year-old daughter Annie and Lincoln lost his 11-year-old son Willie.

How they each responded to their unbridled sense of loss says as much about each man’s faith as does The Origin of Species and The Emancipation Proclamation. Darwin told others after Annie’s death that he was agnostic and did not believe that a loving God could do such a thing. The chasm between Charles and his wife, Emma, a devout Christian, only widened for the rest of their lives. Their correspondence to one another reflects a heartbreaking disappointment that Emma would not be with Charles in God’s kingdom because of his lack of faith. With the death of Willie, some people noticed that Lincoln turned more towards God seeking comfort and consolation in the loss he and Mary experienced so profoundly. To one friend, Lincoln said, “I will go to God with my sorrows…”

How Darwin and Lincoln responded to the world around them and to their personal losses is not something unique but part of our common humanity. In some ways these two remarkable men, who affected the world and history in unsurpassed ways, are not too dissimilar from you and me. When tragedy struck, they both responded in different ways. Darwin pulled away from God and Lincoln drew closer to God. Pulling away from God or drawing near to God: the choice is always ours.

Today, we face tumultuous times. Hard economic realities have come to our doors. The times feel like we are on a battleground being tested and tried like generations before us. We hold in prayer those in need of healing and pray for the anxious, disconsolate, and weary. In the Gospel of Mark, we heard this morning, Jesus’ public ministry begins with healing – healing a family member: Peter’s mother-in-law. Perhaps, like Peter, who inspired Mark’s Gospel, we need to remember that the first place of healing begins at home. Perhaps, there, where we are the most intimate, most vulnerable, we can open ourselves to God’s grace and mercy with and for one another. And if, we lose our nerve, or seem to forget where we placed our faith, we can come together in community, as the church, to reclaim our faith, renew our lives, and find strength for the journey together.

Losing faith in the face of uncertainty is not unnatural. Perhaps, Darwin took a lonely road that led him with the eyes of an eagle to uncover the secrets of evolution. Lincoln took another path that led him, like Moses, to lead the Union to restoration and healing. In his Second Inaugural Address, Lincoln spoke, with the strength of an eagle, of God’s will for the people of the United States to bind up the nation’s wounds.

Darwin and Lincoln: two remarkable men. Let us remember them with honor and how they changed the world in which they lived. And may we also remember how they both faced terrible loss in their lives and how they labored on for the benefit of humanity revealing wisdom, strength and vision. Perhaps the words from the prophet Isaiah are ones we can listen and remember, heed and hear, when we, too, face trials and challenges in our own lives: “God gives power to the faint, and strengthens the powerless. Even youth will faint and be weary, and the young will fall exhausted; but those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles, they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.” Amen.

Epiphany III - Myra Anderson

Take my lips and speak through them. Take our minds and think with them. Take our hearts and set them on fire. Amen.

Have you noticed that everyone is in the wilderness these days? That seems to be the big Metaphor of the day. It’s applied to just about every situation we can’t seem to control or fix. Whether it’s the economy, the Anglican Communion, the Massachusetts republican party – it’s all in the wilderness right now. It implies we’re lost, or searching aimlessly, or without hope.

In other words, the wilderness is not a good place to be.

Christ Church is of course not immune to all of this fear and anxiety. We’re feeling the economic downturn. We worry about the deep divisions that threaten our Communion. We worry about declining attendance in our church and many others. In another hour, the Vestry will present you with a budget for the next year. Our income is down, our fixed expenses are up. We’ve had to slash funding to some time-honored programs and outreach efforts to make it all balance.

You’ll also see that no one -- in a church of over 300 active members and families – no one has stepped forward to take two critical leadership positions: Warden and Parish Clerk. For deeply personal reasons – and I am grateful to all of you for respecting my need to keep them personal – I can’t seek another term as your senior warden.

The good news is you have Julia, and a full vestry slate with highly qualified people. Please keep them in your prayers, and give them the extra support they will need.

But it’s all pretty sobering, and has led me in recent weeks to wonder, Are we – Christ Church, our congregation – are we in the wilderness? And how do we get out?

Our Gospel reading helps us, but you have to dig a little deeper. You have to read the part they left out. That’s always my husband John’s favorite part of the Psalm – the verses they leave out. He says that’s where all the gore and wrath happens.

In this morning’s reading, we join Jesus on the road after John’s been arrested. Jesus has just arrived in Galilee. What we left out is where he had been just before that. Two weeks ago, you’ll recall, we read about his baptism by John, and how God was pleased. We skipped the part in between: right after God says, “Well Done, Son”, the Holy Spirit drives Jesus into the wilderness for 40 days to hang out with wild beasts, be tempted by Satan and waited on by angels.

Reflecting on my original question, are we in the wilderness, it occurs to me that for God, the wilderness is not such a scary place. It’s not where you find yourself because you screwed up or because everything is going horribly wrong. The wilderness is always part of the biblical journey, so it’s part of our journey, though maybe we don’t choose to go there. I believe we often find ourselves there, it’s not a one-time thing. And like Jesus, we are led there by the Holy Spirit. We can’t stay there forever – you can’t survive that long – but the story of Jesus’ time in the wilderness is enlightening as to how that time is spent, and where it gets us.

Matthew’s Gospel gives us a lot more detail about Jesus’ time in the wilderness than Mark does. Matthew tells us that Jesus fasted for 40 days and 40 nights (as usual – that’s what gives it that biblical flair) and that he was famished. In other words, he did without the food and water necessary for survival. He might be desperate, subject to : TEMPTATION. Enter Satan.

Yet each time Jesus is faced with temptation, an easy way out, what does he do? he quotes the scriptures. He quotes scripture.

When the Devil taunts Jesus to turn stones into bread, Jesus answers with a quote from scripture: “one does not live by bread alone, but by every word that comes from the mouth of God.”

When the Devil asks Jesus to test the loyalty of the angels by throwing himself off of a cliff, he responds with another quote: “Do not put the Lord your God to the Test.”

And finally when the Devil shows Jesus what riches he can have if he turns from God and worships Satan, Jesus casts him out with a final quote: “Worship the Lord your God and serve only him.”

In other words, Jesus keeps going back to the Rule Book. It’s like following the Scout Manual. He stays true to God, and faces temptation head-on. He doesn’t have to invent something on his own, come up with some clever new path. it’s all right there, in the manual. Despite outward appearances, he’s not alone. The angels show up, tend to his needs. And what does he do next? He comes out, and saves the world.

Temptations – those little compromises to our faith that represent the easy way out -- are inevitable. Not only in our own lives but in our lives as a congregation as well. But God has already given us everything we need to face the temptations, everything we need to survive the lean times in the wilderness: We have the love of God; we have the Light of Christ; we have the guidance of the scriptures; we have the fire of the Holy Spirit; and we have the support of one another.

Now I don’t pretend to know if this is the wilderness, where we are now. Some days it feels that way. In the end, it doesn’t matter what we call it. We do and we will face many challenges to our congregation. Label them what you will.

As a congregation, we may be tempted in the weeks, months, even years ahead, to withdraw into ourselves as our funds decline or our membership stagnates. We may be tempted to stop serving those outside our community who so desperately need us, to stop sharing what we do have.

We may be tempted to hold onto traditions that have lost their relevance, or to latch onto meaningless trends. We may be tempted to seek growth in numbers, but neglect to grow in spirit. We may be tempted to seek new sources of revenue that threaten our integrity or our mission. We may be tempted to defer maintenance of our building, squandering this important asset and gathering space. We may get lost in the divisive struggles of our national church or even our own home-grown squabbles.

We may be tempted, in the face of increased demands for our time and talent, to say no to a request for help. We may be tempted to stop listening to each other altogether, or worse, to stop listening to God.

“Follow me,” Jesus says in today’s gospel.

This is not the time to withdraw inward, nor is it the time to give up. If we do that, we’ll surely never get out. And we must get out. We cannot survive otherwise. This is the time to keep walking -- to keep Following the light -- to keep living out our faith as Jesus commanded us: Loving God, loving our neighbor. Together, in community.

Worshiping together, caring for our resources and one another together, Feeding the hungry together, sheltering the homeless together, clothing the poor together, healing the sick together, saving our environment together and fighting injustice together.

In the end, maybe we’re in the wilderness most of the time. We don’t have all the answers, and it’s never easy. Maybe we’re always wandering in and out. What’s most important is not where we are, but where we’re going.

That’s why today’s actual gospel reading, not my expanded reading, is especially relevant. Even when we’re feeling hungry, tired, lost, or busy, busy, busy -- we must always keep our mind open to God’s call. After all, if we are in the wilderness, especially if we’re lost, that’s the only way out.

We never know when Jesus is going to tap us on the shoulder, wake us from our slumber or jar us out of our routine, and say, “Follow me.”

“Follow me.”

It has been my experience here at Christ Church that God is always working through us, calling us to serve His kingdom of justice and peace. Now I recognize that as individuals God can call us any time, anywhere – not just in church – and that call can take us down paths. But where is he calling us as a community of faith, together? Are we listening and will we be ready?

That tap on the shoulder may well come from one of your fellow parishioners or one of your parish leaders -- a call to service, to leadership, to fellowship, to worship. I hope in the days ahead we will all open our hearts and minds to the very real possibility that that call is Jesus -- leading us out of our wilderness, and into the light.

Amen.

Epiphany I - Skip Windsor

Acts 19: 1-7; Mark 1:4-11

Let us pray:Sustain us, O God, with Your most gracious will and give us the Spirit of Christ. Amen.

“I baptize you in the name of the Father, and the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.”

These are the familiar words spoken at baptism. And as they are recited water is poured on the head of the candidate signifying the cleansing power of the Holy Spirit. It marks him or her, as “Christ’s own forever.” These words are not a magical incantation nor some spell of protection, but signify a deeper, surer truth: That the person baptized has become one with God, been embraced with bonds of affection, and welcomed into the household of faith we call the Christian Church.

The invocation of the Trinity – Father, Son, and Holy Spirit – is by design because it reveals something about the nature and mystery between God and the Church. I am reminded of the story of the young mother who once asked a prominent theologian: “My pastor baptized my baby in the name of the Creator, Redeemer, and Sanctifier. Will my baby go to hell?” “No,” replied the theologian, “but the pastor will.”

Today on this First Sunday after the Epiphany, we celebrate the Baptism of our Lord. As most of you know, Epiphany is the season when Jesus’ glory is manifested, revealed and made known to all the peoples of the earth. Jesus’ baptism marks the beginning of his public ministry. His journey will lead from the River Jordan to Jerusalem; and along the way, as Jesus teaches in Galilee, heals in Bethsaida, and is revealed as the Messiah at Caesarea Philippi, his light will shine forth to people hidden in the shadows who were forced there because of fear, oppression and disease.

In our Gospel lesson for today, Jesus is baptized by John signaling the end of the baptizer’s ministry and the completion of the old age of the prophets of Israel. John announces this new age by saying, “One more powerful than I is coming after me… He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.” The descent of the Holy Spirit in the form of a dove recalls the covenant God made with Noah after the Flood and foreshadows that the Spirit will come again with “Tongues of fire” to rest on the shoulders of the disciples at Pentecost. By descending in the form of a dove, it is God’s visible assurance of His abiding and empowering love through Jesus Christ.

The sign of the dove, or any of our religious symbols, including the cross, are an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace. And the sacrament of baptism is the initiation rite into the Church that adheres us in faith to Christ. Implicit in baptism is the reality that we become heirs of God’s Kingdom renouncing our allegiance to the Principalities and Powers of this world; and it is in this tension of living out our baptismal vows in the world where the moral struggles and battles take place everyday.

There are many today who believe that God is dead and that religion is for the weak-willed and simple minded. I believe it was Ted Turner who said that Christianity is for losers. Measured against the world’s yardsticks he is probably right. Christian phrases like: “Turn the other cheek; love your neighbor as yourself; if a person asks for your cloak, give it to her; sell what you have and follow me,” are not words upon which to build a fast-track career. As a matter of fact, using today’s yardsticks of success, Jesus would be considered a failure.

You and I have the advantage of seeing Jesus from this side of the Resurrection; yet, we forget and sometimes miss the anguish and pain He experienced in his life. By the world’s standards, Jesus wasn’t successful. He did not change the hearts of everyone he met.

He failed to liberate his people from Roman rule. He failed to rally the Jews to a new understanding of God. He failed to gain the steadfast loyalty of his disciples before his crucifixion. And so alone, except for his mother, Mary, and a few others, Jesus died a lonely and humiliating death. Yet, it is through this man that we see something about the nature of God. Some people might say that Christianity seems like a sucker’s bet. Cynics might say Christianity is a faith of losers because it is founded upon a loser.

But, Christianity isn’t founded on chance, luck, or a bad roll of the dice. Rather, looking back, we see that something happened, so unexpected, so astonishing, that it galvanized the disciples into a purposeful and intentional resolve to become a cadre for Christ. Guided by the Holy Spirit, they became fearless, brave, and self-sacrificing men and women; and their world was claimed forever in the name of Jesus Christ. Our baptism recalls for us not only the beginning of Jesus’ public ministry but is also a vivid reminder of our call to ministry and mission, too. In our prayer book’s Baptismal Covenant, we are asked to seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as ourselves. And what is our reply? “I will with God’s help.”

Thomas Merton tells the story of a 4th century desert mother who said,

“There is labor and great struggle for the impious who are converted to God, but after that comes the inexpressible joy. A man who wants to light a fire first is plagued by smoke, and then the smoke drives him to tears, yet finally he gets the fire he wants. So it is also written: Our God is a consuming fire. Hence we ought to light the divine fire in ourselves with labor and with tears.”

Merton calls those baptized and touched by the Holy Spirit, “The Burned Ones.” The Holy Spirit touches these baptized and throughout their lives they continue to find Christ in the midst of the challenges and tensions of life. Over and over again, God winnows the baptized with the Holy Spirit calling them to be whole and holy people. We know there are many who come into the world with nothing, leave the world with nothing, and yet they touch everyone who ever met them. Their sanctity evokes in us a sense of respect, admiration and love. These “Burned Ones” illuminate the dark places of the world.

One of the first children I ever baptized was a “Burned One” named Larry Boston. I met little Larry at Boston City Hospital in the children’s ICU. He was a 1 year old and was the source of much affection by the doctors, nurses, and staff on the ward. Because of his illness, and in spite of it, Larry formed a tiny community around him. I was asked by one of the staff members to baptize Larry because he was going to die soon.

The day I met Larry he was like any other baby playing with his toys. And except for his persistent cough and the IV tubes in his arms, he was like any other child; but he wasn’t. Larry was living with AIDS. The virus had been transmitted to him at birth by his IV drug addicted parents who later abandoned him. Like the staff, Larry touched me – burned me – the day I baptized him. He invoked in me a mixture of sorrow, anger, love and fatherly compassion. For many, many people, a baby with AIDS is the end of the world.

In Ted Turner’s world or in Bernie Madoff’s world there is not much room for the Larry Boston’s of the world. When Larry was baptized he was no longer a loser. He became a member of the community of faith, a child of the kingdom, who was forever linked to each of us and everyone of us who whisper, cried, or sung the name of Jesus. With the words, “Larry, I baptize you in the name of the Father, and the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.” he was marked as Christ’s own forever.

When Larry died a few month later many grieved at his passing – not as an innocent victim of a dreaded disease – but as an example of how to live: inspiring others into communities of love and being agents of change to find ways to contain the AIDS/HIV virus so that other children can grow into adulthood and live holy and healthy lives. The divine fire touched Larry and his flame touched all of us who knew him. He inspired many of us at that time to minister to others living with AIDS and to encourage others to fight in the battle with us.

Your baptisms, my baptism, Larry’s baptism assures us of infinite worth and unconditional love in God through Jesus Christ. Our baptism is the promise of our resurrection in Christ to a new life in Him. Being baptized with the Holy Spirit burns away old habits, stiff routines, persistent prejudices and petty angers. No longer are we held ransom to the changes and chances of life but live in the knowledge we rest in God’s eternal changelessness.

In that sure knowledge, we can claim through our baptisms the high calling given to us in Jesus Christ to go forth with confidence striving for justice and peace and respecting the dignity of every human being.

Amen.