Be The Church
“In the name of God, creator, redeemer and sanctifier.” Amen.
You and I gather this morning as a church family. Many of you have already greeted friends, received maybe a handshake or a hug, or taken the children to Children’s Chapel. Others of you may have entered church quietly by arriving early to hear the choir rehearse, come through the side door without notice, or entered for the first time to be greeted by one of our ushers.
Regardless, of how you came into church this morning, you are here. And you and I are family.
I know for some people the idea of calling ourselves a “family” may have unsettling or disturbing connotations. Perhaps, it recalls an old fashion, even nostalgic, definition that no longer works. Yet, what word may we use to adequately describe ourselves? I cannot think of a better way to define church community than by using the word “family.”
I am reminded of the story of the small boy who stood shivering over a steel grate on a bitterly cold day in a western city. His clothes were tattered, torn and threadbare. A woman, appropriately dressed for the weather, stopped and engaged the youngster in conversation. Sensing he was a child of the streets, the woman took him to a clothing store and outfitted him from head to toe including cap, scarf, coat, gloves and socks.
The boy was filled with happiness and gratitude. He could not thank her enough.
As they said good-bye and walked in opposite directions, the elated lad turned back to ask, “Are you God’s mother?” The woman answered, “Oh no! I am a child of God.
Whereupon the smiling boy remarked, “I knew you were related.”
In God, you and I are relatives. Family. The words from Psalm 133:1 may be helpful when the psalmist writes, “How good and pleasant it is when kindred dwell together in unity.” Perhaps an enhanced definition of a church family would the phrase “kindred dwelling together in unity.”
So as we gather this morning on the day of our annual meeting as spiritual relatives, it is appropriate to pause and reflect about our relationship in Jesus Christ. And as a family of Christians, you and I, are here to worship together, to pray together, and to share the Eucharist together.
Electing lay leaders today remind us on such occasions that we are an apostolic community who continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, breaking bread together and being in fellowship with one another.
This morning is the usual time when the rector gives a state of the parish address. After hearing the State of the State Address and the State of the Union Address, you may be exhausted from hearing one more “State of… Addresses.” I do not think you came here necessarily this morning to hear me recite the triumphs and successes of the past year.
I do not think you want to know in more detail in my sermon about what the staff, the vestry and the ministries are doing right now. That time will come later when you will hear about those leaders and programs at the annual meeting; and, as a plug, I encourage you to attend the A/M after our worship service for there is a good story to tell about Christ Church over this past year.
For our brief time together now, I would like to reflect with you on how we can maintain and sustain the energy, the inspiration, and the spirit that has brought us this far. We ought to be mindful not to judge our accomplishments by standards less than the Gospel of Jesus Christ. For it is more important to be faithful than successful.
In the Gospel lesson for today from Mark, we hear about a strange even bizarre encounter; but it is easy to get side tracked by thinking of today’s gospel lesson as just an odd, even supernatural story. This reading seems more geared for a Halloween than it does for the 4th Sunday after the Epiphany. It has all the makings of a horror story with a demon possessed man and people who are perplexed and scared.
In Jesus’ time there was no such word as pathology; and certainly the idea of being possessed was not psychological ailment but supernatural one. In Jesus’ time such people were shunned, isolated, and marginalized because they were considered outcasts and religiously “impure.” The evangelist, Mark, includes the encounter with the demon possessed man and Jesus for two reasons.
The first is that the first people to recognize that Jesus is the Son of God is not Peter and the other disciples. Rather, the first ones to acknowledge Jesus’ supernatural authority is another supernatural being. Throughout Mark, it will be supernatural figures who will recognize that the supernatural power of Jesus first. It will be a journey of discovery for Peter and the other disciples that through Jesus they will also be given authority over demonic forces to heal and to speak truth to power.
The second reason Mark includes this meeting with the demon possessed man is how others witnessed and responded Jesus in the synagogue: He speaks with authority. Notice, the writer does not recount what Jesus actually said. Mark merely states that Jesus taught them as one having authority. And the people respond to his words and to his healing as a New Teaching.
Up until this time, the people of Israel were taught first by the patriarchs and matriarchs, the lawgivers and the prophets, and the Pharisee and scribes; but now Jesus offers a new teaching that will be available directly to all people and not intercepted and interpreted only by the religious leaders.
This New Teaching of Jesus would be a reformation of the Jewish Shema taken from the Hebrew Scriptures, which commands that one should love the Lord, your God with all your heart and your entire mind; and, Jesus adds the second is similar: You shall love your neighbor as yourself.
This New Teaching, this new commandment Jesus would continue to incarnate throughout his public ministry inspiring his followers to do the same even if it led to persecution, suffering, and betrayal. But he also promised that if anyone would imitate him they would find the joy and grace of a renewed and restored life in him.
In Jesus’ life and teaching he speaks of a kingdom that is for all people who come from all sections of society. It is a Samaritan who shows us how to be a good neighbor, a businessman who shows us how to use our talents, a wine stewards who shows us how to trust, an old woman who shows us how to rejoice, a host who shows us hospitality by inviting strangers into his house, the father who shows us generosity welcoming back a lost son, a tourist who shows us courage by picking up the cross. There is no seat for the mighty in this kingdom. It is marked by humility, compassion and faith.
As the family of God, you and I are given a different kind of authority through the Holy Spirit to do the work of Christ, to be the mind of Christ, the heart of Christ, the hands of Christ. I believe the challenge for Christians today is to be bold and beholden only to God. The chosen vehicle for God’s redeeming and reconciling work in this kingdom of God is the church, the laos, the laity: You.
If there were a truth to tell you this morning it would be that you are the church and Christ Church is your church. Not mine. Not Lynn’s. Not Bud’s. Not Bishop Shaw’s. Not the clergy. It is the laity. You are church. It is Jesus’ legacy and gift to you, your forebears and your children and children’s children. Christ Church cannot exist in a vacuum. In order for you to continue to thrive and do the good work you are doing you will have to own it and own it deeply.
During this season of Epiphany consider your call and remember through Jesus Christ that you are a light to the world.
Up in Maine there is a lighthouse called Two Bush; and it’s light marks the way into the Mussel Ridge Channel and Penobscot Bay. It warns the vessels about nearby shoals. It’s beacon welcomes vessels into safe harbors and returns them back to the sea. And these boats are big and small from lobster boats and yawls to supertankers and great ocean liners. The lighthouse keeps all these vessels safe so that they can go off to far off ports and deliver its cargo. The beacon light remains on. It must stay on.
Like Two Bush Light, Christ Church is a beacon of light that shines as close as Highland Street and as far away as Haiti. You, Christ Church, are the lighthouse and you are its keepers. And through your God given gifts that you share in this community more work than any of us can imagine is being done.
Although the physical presence of Jesus is not with us, He is with us and he will give us the will and perseverance, the strength and the faith, to weather any tempestuous winds or strong currents that pull us away from the self-giving love known through his life, death and resurrection.
Sometimes when I am alone in this church, I enjoy the stillness and the beauty of this sanctuary. It is the same in the chapel. But, after a few minutes, I feel a yearning. I feel as if I am missing something. I realize I am missing the sound of the organ played by Jane, the voices of the men and women in the choir, the firm hands and gentle hugs at the Peace, the children with me around the baptismal fount. Then I realize that what I am missing. I am missing you. You are the Church to me. We are the church for one other.
If I could only underscore one invitation to you it would be to be the Church. Be the church to all people. Be the church to the poor and the forgotten. Be the church to friend and neighbor. Be the church to young and old alike. Be the church to God’s creation. Be the church that points to horizons of hope. Be the transforming church. Be the church God calls you to be: The light. Community. Kindred. Family.
To maintain and sustain the good work of ministry and mission of Christ Church remember who you are and whose you are: the beloved family of God. As St. Paul writes in Romans: “We know that all things work together for good for those who love God who are called according to his purpose” (8:28).
Let us pray:
Most gracious and loving God, we thank you for the gift of your Son, our Savior, Jesus Christ, who is the light of the world. We pray give us his light through your Holy and life giving Spirit to be faithful disciples in word and deed do your will in the world and to promote the well-being of all people and to be faithful stewards of your creation. Remember us for good that as we are related to you we never forget we are related to one another through your Church. All this we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.
Sunday, January 29, 2012
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Epiphany III - Lynn Campbell
“Follow me and I will make you fish for people. And immediately they left their nets and followed him.”
In the name of the one God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.
If only it were that easy. If only we could walk up to someone and say, follow me, and they followed. Perhaps that works in the game of follow the leader, but other than that I don’t think it is very practical. So, what was it about Jesus that his simple words, “follow me and I will make you fish for people” were compelling enough that Simon and his brother Andrew and then James and his brother John, dropped everything to follow him. According to the gospel readings Jesus had yet to perform any amazing miracle. The sight of the blind man had not been restored, no one had been raised from the dead, and no demons had been cast out. So, what made these brothers leave their families, leave the source of their income, leave their security behind to take on a new way of life? What compelled them to make this radical change of direction?
Perhaps they heard Jesus speak, and recognized something divine in his words or in his presence. Maybe they heard him announce that “the time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent and believe in the good news” and found these words compelling enough for them to leave everything behind and follow the one who called them.
Have you ever had the experience of being caught up in the nets of your everyday life, your attention focused on the direction you are going- only to have that direction, that focus changed? I’m not just talking about major life changing moments; I’m talking about those smaller moments that can occur in our daily lives. I had one of these experiences two years ago while I was working as a chaplain at our Diocesan summer camp. I was supposed to meet a group of campers by the waterfront to go canoeing. As is typical for me, I was running late. I had my eyes focused towards the water and I was speed walking my way down the hill. But then something compelled me to look to the side. When I did I saw a young camper walking alone along the path. She had her head down and was kicking the dirt with her shoes with each step she took. Something in me knew I had to go over to her. I began walking beside her and asked her how she was doing. It wasn’t long before she told me how sad she felt. How homesick she was for what was familiar, for her parents and her friends. We had a good chat and I was able to work with her counselors and with her fellow cabin members to bring her more into the fold and to help lessen the feelings of homesickness. This encounter had very little to do with me. It was God compelling me to reach out to one of God’s little ones in need. I never did make it to the waterfront that day. The course of my day changed and my eyes remained much more open to the people around me.
I realize now that I had begun walking over to this young camper before I really knew what I was doing. And it makes wonder how much Andrew, Simon, James, and John understood what they were doing. Mark tells us that after hearing Jesus’ call, they IMMEDIATELY left their nets to follow him. They didn’t know what would come next. They didn’t know what would come from following Jesus. But they trusted the compelling nature of the call and the one who called.
I often think the path of discipleship for us is similar. We begin following Jesus’ call without really knowing where it will lead. We are told in scripture that the way of Jesus is the way of life but we don’t really know what that will look like for each of us. We didn’t ask to be called any more than the fishermen in today’s gospel did. Yet each one of us has been called. In our baptism we have been claimed by Jesus Christ and called to follow him. We have not been claimed because of WHO we are, rather because of WHOSE we are. Jesus’ first disciples were not called because they were the well-educated, elite, powerful members of society or because of any great acts of kindness they performed. They were simple fishermen who spent their days on the Sea of Galilee, dropping their nets into the water and hoping to catch some fish. In the same way, we are not called by virtue of our talents or excellence or education. We are called because Jesus has found us and claimed us as his own.
Jesus has found us, and extends an invitation to us. It is an invitation to love as he loves. It is an invitation to go where he went, to see with his eyes, to hear with his ears, and to love with his heart. It is an invitation to walk in the life-changing, world-changing way of Jesus. This invitation, this call to follow Jesus, comes to us each and every day. The way we live out the call will look differently for each one of us. Frederick Buechner, an author and Presbyterian minister writes, "The place God calls you to is where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet.” This is how he and others define vocation. We often think of vocation as being only for those of us who serving as ordained minister. But the word vocation, coming from the Latin word, vocare, simply means “to call.” Each of us has been called and each of us has a vocation. Your vocation, the place God calls you, is where your passion and deep joy meet a need and a hunger in the world. As Jesus’ disciples, we can’t solve all the problems of the world. We can’t bring about, through our own actions, God’s kingdom of justice and peace, but we can do our small part. We can use the gifts and talents God has given us to feed a hunger in the world. Not all of us are called to provide medical care to people in Haiti, to bring clothes to homeless shelters in Boston, or to knit prayer shawls for people who are hurting but each of us is called to do something.
There are so many needs in our world, so many places to use our gifts in the service of others. We need the eyes to see the hurt, the ears to hear the pain and the wisdom to discover where these pains and our deep gladness meet. It doesn’t help anyone if we are miserable in our service of others. We are not following Jesus if we are miserable with each step. This doesn’t mean we don’t experience suffering. We know that pain is part of the journey. But it does mean that deep down there is a joy in knowing we are loving God by loving others and there is a joy in using our gifts in the service of our sisters and brothers. And it is this gladness, this deep joy, that draws others in. When people see you serving with gladness in your heart, they will want to know more. They will want to share in this joy and they will ask you about it. Here is an opportunity to tell people about the one who has called you to follow him. It is an opportunity to invite others to follow Jesus. And in this way we join Simon, Andrew, James and John and become fisher for people.
I offer again the prayer from this morning’s collect and invite you to hear the words anew:
Let us pray.
Give us grace, O Lord, to answer readily the call of our Savior Jesus Christ and proclaim to all people the Good News of his salvation, that we and the whole world may perceive the glory of his marvelous works; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
In the name of the one God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.
If only it were that easy. If only we could walk up to someone and say, follow me, and they followed. Perhaps that works in the game of follow the leader, but other than that I don’t think it is very practical. So, what was it about Jesus that his simple words, “follow me and I will make you fish for people” were compelling enough that Simon and his brother Andrew and then James and his brother John, dropped everything to follow him. According to the gospel readings Jesus had yet to perform any amazing miracle. The sight of the blind man had not been restored, no one had been raised from the dead, and no demons had been cast out. So, what made these brothers leave their families, leave the source of their income, leave their security behind to take on a new way of life? What compelled them to make this radical change of direction?
Perhaps they heard Jesus speak, and recognized something divine in his words or in his presence. Maybe they heard him announce that “the time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent and believe in the good news” and found these words compelling enough for them to leave everything behind and follow the one who called them.
Have you ever had the experience of being caught up in the nets of your everyday life, your attention focused on the direction you are going- only to have that direction, that focus changed? I’m not just talking about major life changing moments; I’m talking about those smaller moments that can occur in our daily lives. I had one of these experiences two years ago while I was working as a chaplain at our Diocesan summer camp. I was supposed to meet a group of campers by the waterfront to go canoeing. As is typical for me, I was running late. I had my eyes focused towards the water and I was speed walking my way down the hill. But then something compelled me to look to the side. When I did I saw a young camper walking alone along the path. She had her head down and was kicking the dirt with her shoes with each step she took. Something in me knew I had to go over to her. I began walking beside her and asked her how she was doing. It wasn’t long before she told me how sad she felt. How homesick she was for what was familiar, for her parents and her friends. We had a good chat and I was able to work with her counselors and with her fellow cabin members to bring her more into the fold and to help lessen the feelings of homesickness. This encounter had very little to do with me. It was God compelling me to reach out to one of God’s little ones in need. I never did make it to the waterfront that day. The course of my day changed and my eyes remained much more open to the people around me.
I realize now that I had begun walking over to this young camper before I really knew what I was doing. And it makes wonder how much Andrew, Simon, James, and John understood what they were doing. Mark tells us that after hearing Jesus’ call, they IMMEDIATELY left their nets to follow him. They didn’t know what would come next. They didn’t know what would come from following Jesus. But they trusted the compelling nature of the call and the one who called.
I often think the path of discipleship for us is similar. We begin following Jesus’ call without really knowing where it will lead. We are told in scripture that the way of Jesus is the way of life but we don’t really know what that will look like for each of us. We didn’t ask to be called any more than the fishermen in today’s gospel did. Yet each one of us has been called. In our baptism we have been claimed by Jesus Christ and called to follow him. We have not been claimed because of WHO we are, rather because of WHOSE we are. Jesus’ first disciples were not called because they were the well-educated, elite, powerful members of society or because of any great acts of kindness they performed. They were simple fishermen who spent their days on the Sea of Galilee, dropping their nets into the water and hoping to catch some fish. In the same way, we are not called by virtue of our talents or excellence or education. We are called because Jesus has found us and claimed us as his own.
Jesus has found us, and extends an invitation to us. It is an invitation to love as he loves. It is an invitation to go where he went, to see with his eyes, to hear with his ears, and to love with his heart. It is an invitation to walk in the life-changing, world-changing way of Jesus. This invitation, this call to follow Jesus, comes to us each and every day. The way we live out the call will look differently for each one of us. Frederick Buechner, an author and Presbyterian minister writes, "The place God calls you to is where your deep gladness and the world's deep hunger meet.” This is how he and others define vocation. We often think of vocation as being only for those of us who serving as ordained minister. But the word vocation, coming from the Latin word, vocare, simply means “to call.” Each of us has been called and each of us has a vocation. Your vocation, the place God calls you, is where your passion and deep joy meet a need and a hunger in the world. As Jesus’ disciples, we can’t solve all the problems of the world. We can’t bring about, through our own actions, God’s kingdom of justice and peace, but we can do our small part. We can use the gifts and talents God has given us to feed a hunger in the world. Not all of us are called to provide medical care to people in Haiti, to bring clothes to homeless shelters in Boston, or to knit prayer shawls for people who are hurting but each of us is called to do something.
There are so many needs in our world, so many places to use our gifts in the service of others. We need the eyes to see the hurt, the ears to hear the pain and the wisdom to discover where these pains and our deep gladness meet. It doesn’t help anyone if we are miserable in our service of others. We are not following Jesus if we are miserable with each step. This doesn’t mean we don’t experience suffering. We know that pain is part of the journey. But it does mean that deep down there is a joy in knowing we are loving God by loving others and there is a joy in using our gifts in the service of our sisters and brothers. And it is this gladness, this deep joy, that draws others in. When people see you serving with gladness in your heart, they will want to know more. They will want to share in this joy and they will ask you about it. Here is an opportunity to tell people about the one who has called you to follow him. It is an opportunity to invite others to follow Jesus. And in this way we join Simon, Andrew, James and John and become fisher for people.
I offer again the prayer from this morning’s collect and invite you to hear the words anew:
Let us pray.
Give us grace, O Lord, to answer readily the call of our Savior Jesus Christ and proclaim to all people the Good News of his salvation, that we and the whole world may perceive the glory of his marvelous works; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.
Sunday, January 8, 2012
Epiphany I (The Baptism of Our Lord) - Lynn Campbell
Gen 1:1-5, Mk 1:4-11
“You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”
In the name of the one God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.
Was any one else surprised to come into church this morning and hear a story about the adult Jesus? Didn’t we just celebrate his birth? The 12 days of Christmas only ended on Friday. Just 2 days ago we celebrated the Feast of the Epiphany. As a church we remembered the Magi, who after seeing a star rise in the heavens, follow it to Bethlehem where they meet the infant Jesus cradled in the loving arms of his mother Mary. The “wise men” as they are known, traveled a great distance, following the light of the star, because they knew the Messiah had been born. When they came upon Mary and the child, they knelt down and worshipped him. And they offered him the gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. This time with the Savior of the world changed them forever. With their visit to that lowly stable, the Christ child was revealed to them and to the world. And that is really what epiphany means, to reveal, to manifest, to make known.
But now, a mere 2 days later we encounter the adult Jesus as he is baptized. This quick leap of 30 years seems a little jarring but I find it helpful to think of the baptism as a continuation of the theme of epiphany. We continue to encounter a God who desires to be known through Jesus Christ. We continue to experience the manifestation, the revelation, of Jesus Christ to all people. This morning, Jesus is made known as God’s Son through his baptism in the river Jordan. John has prepared the way for Jesus. He has preached the confession of sins and repentance to those who followed him and he has baptized them with water. Now Jesus emerges on the scene and presents himself to be baptized. Jesus, without sin, without the need for repentance, humbles himself before God and like each of us, enters the waters of baptism. And what happens as he breaks the surface of the water is probably one of my most favorite lines in all of Scripture: “And as he was coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”
God does not want to remain hidden behind the clouds. God does not stay in the celestial realm, separate from the earth God created. No, God breaks through that divide, God takes on human form, AND God speaks a word of love through the heavens that had been torn apart. And the words spoken at this awe inspiring moment? “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” God is revealed as one who loves, one who willingly shares our human nature, one who finds delight in humanity.
How many of us know ourselves as the object of God’s love, of God’s delight? How many of you can hear God say: “You are my daughter, you are my son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased?” I believe with every ounce of my being that God is speaking those words to you and to me. You are God’s beloved. We might be tempted to say, no, not me. I haven’t done enough to earn this love. But, remember, at this point Jesus had done NOTHING to earn God’s love. And that is exactly what makes this passage is even more amazing. Jesus hears these words BEFORE he has entered into public ministry. BEFORE he began to heal the sick, feed the hungry, clothe the naked. God simply loves. That is what God does that is what God is. God is love.
I know God’s love can seem abstract. Hard to understand or experience. I was recently speaking with someone who told me she knows she is loved by God but that she only knows it in her head. She has never felt it in her heart. She was worried that she would never really KNOW herself as loved. We talked about ways that we experience ourselves as beloved.
Perhaps you have had someone in your life who has made you feel nothing but loved. You know you didn’t do anything to deserve the love. It was just present. The first person I think of is my grandmother who died two years ago. I knew her death would be hard but I had no idea how hard. A few days after her funeral I had to return to classes at Virginia Theological Seminary where I was taking a class on Spiritual Direction. The instructor for this class was speaking about the importance of knowing that we are loved by God before we can do anything else. He spoke about the people in our lives who show us this unconditional love and used a grandmother as the example. I realized that my grandmother had always shown me this unconditional, unearned love. Her sweet voice, her gentle hands, her encouraging words, all made God’s love real for me. My grandmother’s name was “Thelma Leome Campbell,” making her initials TLC. That seems so appropriate because she always showed be tender, loving, care.
We may not hear the voice of love breaking forth from the skies, but I hope and pray we experience that love of God through the TLC of others. I also pray we can hear it deep in our hearts in prayer or when we receive Christ in the bread and the wine.
And I hope we remember this love when we reflect on our own baptism, whether we were baptized as an infant or as an adult. Just as God’s love is made known in Jesus’ baptism, so too is God’s love for us made known in our own baptism. Today we will witness this love made known in the baptism of Michael Xavier Hitron and we have the opportunity to be reminded of our baptismal commitment. In baptism we are named and claimed. We are brought into the household of God and we are brought into an indissolvable bond of love with the Creator. God has called Michael into this relationship. Today we celebrate with an outward sign, what we already know to be true, God has named Michael as God’s beloved.
But Michael’s baptism, and our own, is not simply a one time event. It is an invitation. It is an invitation to live in relationship with God, an invitation to take seriously the baptismal covenant we will all recommit ourselves to this morning. It is an invitation that asks something of us. Jesus’ baptism wasn’t just for his own spiritual benefit. It was the start of his public ministry. From his baptism he went on to share the love of God with all those he encountered, he went on to serve the poor, to seek justice for the oppressed, and to preach the good news. In our baptism we are empowered with this same Holy Spirit to do the work that God has give us to do, using the gifts God has given to each of us. As God’s beloved, we share this love with others. We do it out of love, not out of fear, guilt, or obligation. We live out our baptismal covenant, we serve God and God’s people, because we have been filled with God’s love and empowered by the Holy Spirit for this work.
These words have become more real to me this week as I prepare for my ordination to the priesthood this coming Saturday. I have been blessed to know the love of God and have felt a call to serve God and share the love of God as a priest. I’m looking forward to standing at the altar next Sunday and celebrating the Eucharist for the first time. I am so eager to share the blessing of God in Word and in Sacrament. But at the core of this ministry is my baptism. Each of us is called to live out our baptism in different ways. There are so many ways to share the love of God and our world certainly is in need of this love.
I hope and pray that Michael and all of us will hear the voice of the God saying, you are my Beloved; in you I am well pleased. And I pray that we let this love sink in deeply so that we can share it with our sisters and brothers. Amen.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
Holy Name - Skip Windsor
Numbers 6:22-27
Live Long and Prosper
“Live long and prosper.” For those of us familiar with the TV series Star Trek this was the Vulcan salute consisting of a raised hand, palm outward with fingers parted between the middle and ring finger. The actor Leonard Nimoy who portrayed the half-Vulcan character Dr. Spock on the original series devised the salute.
The accompanying words come from the end of Shakespeare’s play Romeo and Juliet when the grief stricken Romeo bids his friend Balthasar good-bye: “Live and be prosperous, and farewell, good fellow” (Act III. Scene V. 42).
The format is similar to Middle Eastern greetings meaning “peace be upon you,” and its reply, “upon you be peace.” An even earlier variation can be found with the ancient Egyptians blessing that is usually translated “May he live, be prosperous, be healthy.”
The hand gesture was originally a Jewish sign of blessing that comes from the Book of Numbers accompanied by the words we heard this morning from Hebrew scripture:
“The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face to shine upon you, and be gracious to you; the Lord lift up his countenance upon you, and give you peace.”
The split finger hand gesture represents the Hebrew letter Shin which means Shaddai or “Almighty God.” Orthodox Jews use the Shin gesture during a blessing ceremony when the priest extends both hands out at a 45-degree angle as opposed to the vertical gesture we know from Star Trek.
Nimoy modified it for his character Dr. Spock to convey the Vulcan salute.
In his autobiography I am Not Spock, Nimoy writes that as a child his grandfather once took him to an Orthodox synagogue. Jewish worshipers are not permitted to look at the priest while the blessing is being given, as this would detract from the words of the blessing itself. As a child, Nimoy could not contain himself and took a look.
He writes, “The special moment when Kohanim (priest) blessed the assembly moved me deeply, for it possessed a great sense of magic and theatre… I had heard that this indwelling Spirit of God was too powerful, too beautiful, to awesome for any mortal to look upon and survive… so I obediently covered my face with my hand. But of course, I had to peek.”
The beauty of this blessing from the Book of Numbers is that it is universal: Jewish or Christian, Egyptian or Arab, fact or fiction, terrestrial or extra-terrestrial. I use it frequently in blessings because it conveys a truth that hearkens back to the original covenant God made with Abraham that the people of God would and continue to be God’s people.
By blessing, the writer of The Book of Numbers means that fulfillment of the covenant will always be manifested when people respond to God’s commands to love God and to love one’s neighbors. In the Book of Deuteronomy, God promises Abraham descendants as numerous as the stars and that their land would be abundant and fruitful.
This covenant is later ratified at the foot of Mt. Sinai according to The Book of Numbers as the Israelites prepare to journey into the wilderness as they look forward to the Promised Land. Moses’ brother, Aaron, offers this blessing to the Israelites as they leave Mt. Sinai and is so named Aaron’s blessing up to this day.
The blessing is highly stylized speaking of blessing and keeping signifying that all divine gifts are to serve the life and well-being of individuals and communities and that God’s people will be sheltered and protected from all evil and its effects. The person blessing was one who mediated the presence and power of God.
The blessing calls upon God to show the divine countenance to all people to imply God’s full and never failing presence. The shining face of God runs counter to the hiding face of God Moses was not allowed to see at the Burning bush. It means there is a smiling face of God that looks upon you and not a glaring and angry face of the divine.
Our images of God are shaped by stories and personal experiences; and sometime those images are frightful and oppressive. Here, in this blessing, we hear and receive the accepting and comforting face of God. The ancient claim of Aaron’s blessing is that God’s face shines like the sun upon all people and all of creation. Simply put: God smiles on you.
The blessing concludes with God’s peace, God’s Shalom, reaffirming God’s presence and peaceful dominion over all of creation. God’s Shalom means that God’s reign is real, life giving, and eternal. When God’s name was invoked, God would bless the people always and everywhere. For the Israelites and for Jews today, this blessing is a bridge back to the covenant God made to god’s people.
For Christians, God blesses us through one high priest, one mediator, Jesus Christ. He is the presence of God who gives his followers God’s Shalom. As we give thanks for the name of Jesus this day, we are to remember that his life is our blessing.
As we begin a new year, may God’s peace bring you health and happiness.
“Live long and prosper.” Amen.
“Live long and prosper.” For those of us familiar with the TV series Star Trek this was the Vulcan salute consisting of a raised hand, palm outward with fingers parted between the middle and ring finger. The actor Leonard Nimoy who portrayed the half-Vulcan character Dr. Spock on the original series devised the salute.
The accompanying words come from the end of Shakespeare’s play Romeo and Juliet when the grief stricken Romeo bids his friend Balthasar good-bye: “Live and be prosperous, and farewell, good fellow” (Act III. Scene V. 42).
The format is similar to Middle Eastern greetings meaning “peace be upon you,” and its reply, “upon you be peace.” An even earlier variation can be found with the ancient Egyptians blessing that is usually translated “May he live, be prosperous, be healthy.”
The hand gesture was originally a Jewish sign of blessing that comes from the Book of Numbers accompanied by the words we heard this morning from Hebrew scripture:
“The Lord bless you and keep you; the Lord make his face to shine upon you, and be gracious to you; the Lord lift up his countenance upon you, and give you peace.”
The split finger hand gesture represents the Hebrew letter Shin which means Shaddai or “Almighty God.” Orthodox Jews use the Shin gesture during a blessing ceremony when the priest extends both hands out at a 45-degree angle as opposed to the vertical gesture we know from Star Trek.
Nimoy modified it for his character Dr. Spock to convey the Vulcan salute.
In his autobiography I am Not Spock, Nimoy writes that as a child his grandfather once took him to an Orthodox synagogue. Jewish worshipers are not permitted to look at the priest while the blessing is being given, as this would detract from the words of the blessing itself. As a child, Nimoy could not contain himself and took a look.
He writes, “The special moment when Kohanim (priest) blessed the assembly moved me deeply, for it possessed a great sense of magic and theatre… I had heard that this indwelling Spirit of God was too powerful, too beautiful, to awesome for any mortal to look upon and survive… so I obediently covered my face with my hand. But of course, I had to peek.”
The beauty of this blessing from the Book of Numbers is that it is universal: Jewish or Christian, Egyptian or Arab, fact or fiction, terrestrial or extra-terrestrial. I use it frequently in blessings because it conveys a truth that hearkens back to the original covenant God made with Abraham that the people of God would and continue to be God’s people.
By blessing, the writer of The Book of Numbers means that fulfillment of the covenant will always be manifested when people respond to God’s commands to love God and to love one’s neighbors. In the Book of Deuteronomy, God promises Abraham descendants as numerous as the stars and that their land would be abundant and fruitful.
This covenant is later ratified at the foot of Mt. Sinai according to The Book of Numbers as the Israelites prepare to journey into the wilderness as they look forward to the Promised Land. Moses’ brother, Aaron, offers this blessing to the Israelites as they leave Mt. Sinai and is so named Aaron’s blessing up to this day.
The blessing is highly stylized speaking of blessing and keeping signifying that all divine gifts are to serve the life and well-being of individuals and communities and that God’s people will be sheltered and protected from all evil and its effects. The person blessing was one who mediated the presence and power of God.
The blessing calls upon God to show the divine countenance to all people to imply God’s full and never failing presence. The shining face of God runs counter to the hiding face of God Moses was not allowed to see at the Burning bush. It means there is a smiling face of God that looks upon you and not a glaring and angry face of the divine.
Our images of God are shaped by stories and personal experiences; and sometime those images are frightful and oppressive. Here, in this blessing, we hear and receive the accepting and comforting face of God. The ancient claim of Aaron’s blessing is that God’s face shines like the sun upon all people and all of creation. Simply put: God smiles on you.
The blessing concludes with God’s peace, God’s Shalom, reaffirming God’s presence and peaceful dominion over all of creation. God’s Shalom means that God’s reign is real, life giving, and eternal. When God’s name was invoked, God would bless the people always and everywhere. For the Israelites and for Jews today, this blessing is a bridge back to the covenant God made to god’s people.
For Christians, God blesses us through one high priest, one mediator, Jesus Christ. He is the presence of God who gives his followers God’s Shalom. As we give thanks for the name of Jesus this day, we are to remember that his life is our blessing.
As we begin a new year, may God’s peace bring you health and happiness.
“Live long and prosper.” Amen.
Saturday, December 24, 2011
Christmas Eve - Skip Windsor
Luke 2:1-20
The Roman Soldier
My sermon this year is dedicated to our troops in thanksgiving for those service men and women returning home from Iraq this holiday season and to remember those still serving in Afghanistan and in far away lands. This Christmas sermon is called “The Roman Soldier.”
“My name used to be Marcus Regulus a centurion in Rome’s 10th Legion. Some of us are preparing to leave this foreign land after nine years of service. The men are tired and battle wearied. The insurrections in Jerusalem have taken their toll. They all want to go home – except me.
There is uneasiness in my heart ever since we crucified the man they call Jesus a fortnight ago. There was something strange and terrifying that day. Rarely do the condemned speak from the cross; but Jesus did. When he said, “Father, forgive them for they do not know what they do,” it was like an arrow pierced me. It was as if he was speaking to me. I was frightened. He seemed to know me better than I knew myself.
Never before have I weakened against an enemy with axe or sword. I gave commands and I took commands. But here in the shadow of the cross, I knelt down and began to tremble in front of this naked vulnerable man. Then I just blurted it out. It came from some place deep in me when I said, “This is the Son of God!”
Some wall within me crumbled. All that I knew of the world – power, riches, fame and fortune – turned to ashes. The man on the cross who I now believed was the Messiah altered whatever illusions I had about my life, whatever myths I believed about life. This understanding did not come at once. It was when I heard him speak earlier to an older woman and young man at the foot of the cross, “Woman, behold your son.” I recognized the woman from somewhere in my past.
She was older now. Her hair was streaked with gray and she was fuller and rounder; and her face was a cascade of tears. “I know this woman!” I thought to myself. As I beheld how she looked at Jesus as only a mother can, I remembered. I remembered a night a long time ago when in my youth I was witness to a great star over my childhood home of Bethlehem.
Few know that I am from Bethlehem. The Romans believe I am from Britannia but I was born in Bethlehem. My parents died after I was born and so I was raised with my mother’s family who were shepherds. My given name then was Mark and I was filled with an eleven year old’s sense of wonder and curiosity.
One clear cold night while watching my uncle’s sheep with my cousin Jacob, we noticed a strange movement in the sky. The stars quickened and began to twist and turn like a wheel on a cart. I know you may not believe this but a large group of stars began to fuse together to form one great bright shining star.
There came with the spinning star a humming sound like bees in summer. There were voices singing and the word BEHOLD filled my head and other words, I BRING YOU GOOD NEWS resounded and echoed in me and around me. Suddenly there was a line of light – more like a bridge of light – coming from the great star down into Bethlehem.
Curiosity got the best of us. Jacob and I forgot our flock of sheep and followed the light into the town. There was an inn that seemed to be at the light’s end so I knocked on the door to see if anyone knew what was happening. A frightened voice growled back, “It’s late. There are no rooms left!” Jacob tugged at my tunic and pointed to the back of the inn where the light ended at a stable. We heard animal noises – cattle, sheep, and horses, even a donkey.
Coming closer to the stable we could hear the humming again. It was as if people, scores of people were singing. And there in the center of everything was the baby cradled in the arms of his mother. It was her face. It was this woman who I would see thirty years later at the foot of the cross.
Then she was younger, thinner, paler, but held the same dignity, the same, if I may say it, majesty. All I could do at that moment was kneel. Jacob did too. And we beheld the child as the humming voices continued to singing, “GLORY TO GOD IN THE HIGHEST AND PEACE TO HIS PEOPLE ON EARTH.”
How long we remained in the stable I cannot say. At first light we left as the father of the baby beckoned the mother that they must soon be on their way. It was not long after that King Herod issued a terrible order to find the first born of each family.
I did not know what it all meant; but when Herod’s storm troopers took my uncle away for questioning and beat up my cousin Jacob, I fled. I ran as far away from Bethlehem as I could. I was a coward and it would take the rest of my life to prove that I wasn’t.
I joined a caravan that brought me to the port town of Caesarea. There, I stowed away on a merchant ship bound for Britannica. While on board I was caught stealing food from the table of a tin merchant named Joseph who was from the Judean town of Arithmathea. He was a kindly man, who took pity on me and forgave me. Giving me to food to eat, Joseph allowed me to work as his servant for the rest of the voyage
In Britannica, Joseph introduced me to his trading partner, Arrius Regulus, who eventually took me in and raised me among his own children. My name was changed from Mark to the more Roman name of Marcus Regulus. In the Regulus household I learned about the glory of Rome and how it ruled the world. As I matured I forgot my past and looked forward to a life as a Roman citizen of this powerful Empire.
Still hungry for adventure and wanting to prove that I was not a coward I bid farewell to the Regulus family and when of age joined Rome’s famous 9th Legion. Over the next thirty years I proved a trusted and fearless warrior and rose easily through the ranks until I was promoted to centurion in charge of 100 Roman soldiers. There came a call for experienced centurions in Judea. Quick advancement was promised and I was more than glad to prove myself. Without hesitation, I joined the 10th Legion of Rome garrisoned in Jerusalem. There, I was promoted to primus, the first among equals.
Over the months I’ve been stationed in Jerusalem I heard stories of a promised messiah who came in the guise of a teacher from Nazareth who was doing deeds of power and teaching about another kingdom, a kingdom not of Rome but a Kingdom of God. The teacher spoke of the coming reign of God where all would be citizens of another kingdom whether they be slave or free, Jew or Gentile, male or female.
This kingdom, he preached about, would be one where the lion and the lamb would lie down together, where spears would be turned into pruning hooks. News of the carpenter’s son spread far and wide so that people from all over Judea followed him. That is when the authorities became frightened and thought he would start another insurrection; and so they arrested the teacher and sentenced him to death.
I do not like executions and leave that to more junior soldiers. But, I was asked by my superiors to have my men cover the perimeter of the hill called Golgotha. I thought it would be another routine punishment. But, listening to Jesus’ words of forgiveness and seeing his mother again, I realized that I was a witness at both his birth and his death. I kneeled for the second time in my life again near the mother and the son. By giving his life, he gave me my life. Now I know, it is not his death that lives within me now. It is his birth in Bethlehem.
At Jesus’ birth my name was Mark, a shepherd boy, filled with wonder and adventure. Here now in this place of unspeakable sorrow, I remembered the star, the humming and the singing, and I realized that I am more Mark now than I am Marcus. I remembered who I am and whose I was. Jesus’ birth changed everything. What was inside the stable was bigger than our whole world.
It is all so clear to me now. I believe a sure as I stand here that the Bethlehem we seek is around us and within us. The gift at Bethlehem is that the manger lies in every human heart.
Jesus is born again and again every time we give ourselves in compassion and mercy to others just as God gives us a life to live through his Son.
My troops are pulling out of Jerusalem now and heading west to Caesarea. I go north to Galilee. There are reports that Jesus did not die but rose from the dead and that he is alive appearing to his disciples in Galilee.
I must go and find him for he is my peace. And when I find him I will praise him for his goodness and mercy.
Go tell it on the mountain, over the fields and through the plain that one of God’s lost sheep returns to his fold all because of the child who became a king.”
Bless His Holy Name,
MARK of Bethlehem
My sermon this year is dedicated to our troops in thanksgiving for those service men and women returning home from Iraq this holiday season and to remember those still serving in Afghanistan and in far away lands. This Christmas sermon is called “The Roman Soldier.”
“My name used to be Marcus Regulus a centurion in Rome’s 10th Legion. Some of us are preparing to leave this foreign land after nine years of service. The men are tired and battle wearied. The insurrections in Jerusalem have taken their toll. They all want to go home – except me.
There is uneasiness in my heart ever since we crucified the man they call Jesus a fortnight ago. There was something strange and terrifying that day. Rarely do the condemned speak from the cross; but Jesus did. When he said, “Father, forgive them for they do not know what they do,” it was like an arrow pierced me. It was as if he was speaking to me. I was frightened. He seemed to know me better than I knew myself.
Never before have I weakened against an enemy with axe or sword. I gave commands and I took commands. But here in the shadow of the cross, I knelt down and began to tremble in front of this naked vulnerable man. Then I just blurted it out. It came from some place deep in me when I said, “This is the Son of God!”
Some wall within me crumbled. All that I knew of the world – power, riches, fame and fortune – turned to ashes. The man on the cross who I now believed was the Messiah altered whatever illusions I had about my life, whatever myths I believed about life. This understanding did not come at once. It was when I heard him speak earlier to an older woman and young man at the foot of the cross, “Woman, behold your son.” I recognized the woman from somewhere in my past.
She was older now. Her hair was streaked with gray and she was fuller and rounder; and her face was a cascade of tears. “I know this woman!” I thought to myself. As I beheld how she looked at Jesus as only a mother can, I remembered. I remembered a night a long time ago when in my youth I was witness to a great star over my childhood home of Bethlehem.
Few know that I am from Bethlehem. The Romans believe I am from Britannia but I was born in Bethlehem. My parents died after I was born and so I was raised with my mother’s family who were shepherds. My given name then was Mark and I was filled with an eleven year old’s sense of wonder and curiosity.
One clear cold night while watching my uncle’s sheep with my cousin Jacob, we noticed a strange movement in the sky. The stars quickened and began to twist and turn like a wheel on a cart. I know you may not believe this but a large group of stars began to fuse together to form one great bright shining star.
There came with the spinning star a humming sound like bees in summer. There were voices singing and the word BEHOLD filled my head and other words, I BRING YOU GOOD NEWS resounded and echoed in me and around me. Suddenly there was a line of light – more like a bridge of light – coming from the great star down into Bethlehem.
Curiosity got the best of us. Jacob and I forgot our flock of sheep and followed the light into the town. There was an inn that seemed to be at the light’s end so I knocked on the door to see if anyone knew what was happening. A frightened voice growled back, “It’s late. There are no rooms left!” Jacob tugged at my tunic and pointed to the back of the inn where the light ended at a stable. We heard animal noises – cattle, sheep, and horses, even a donkey.
Coming closer to the stable we could hear the humming again. It was as if people, scores of people were singing. And there in the center of everything was the baby cradled in the arms of his mother. It was her face. It was this woman who I would see thirty years later at the foot of the cross.
Then she was younger, thinner, paler, but held the same dignity, the same, if I may say it, majesty. All I could do at that moment was kneel. Jacob did too. And we beheld the child as the humming voices continued to singing, “GLORY TO GOD IN THE HIGHEST AND PEACE TO HIS PEOPLE ON EARTH.”
How long we remained in the stable I cannot say. At first light we left as the father of the baby beckoned the mother that they must soon be on their way. It was not long after that King Herod issued a terrible order to find the first born of each family.
I did not know what it all meant; but when Herod’s storm troopers took my uncle away for questioning and beat up my cousin Jacob, I fled. I ran as far away from Bethlehem as I could. I was a coward and it would take the rest of my life to prove that I wasn’t.
I joined a caravan that brought me to the port town of Caesarea. There, I stowed away on a merchant ship bound for Britannica. While on board I was caught stealing food from the table of a tin merchant named Joseph who was from the Judean town of Arithmathea. He was a kindly man, who took pity on me and forgave me. Giving me to food to eat, Joseph allowed me to work as his servant for the rest of the voyage
In Britannica, Joseph introduced me to his trading partner, Arrius Regulus, who eventually took me in and raised me among his own children. My name was changed from Mark to the more Roman name of Marcus Regulus. In the Regulus household I learned about the glory of Rome and how it ruled the world. As I matured I forgot my past and looked forward to a life as a Roman citizen of this powerful Empire.
Still hungry for adventure and wanting to prove that I was not a coward I bid farewell to the Regulus family and when of age joined Rome’s famous 9th Legion. Over the next thirty years I proved a trusted and fearless warrior and rose easily through the ranks until I was promoted to centurion in charge of 100 Roman soldiers. There came a call for experienced centurions in Judea. Quick advancement was promised and I was more than glad to prove myself. Without hesitation, I joined the 10th Legion of Rome garrisoned in Jerusalem. There, I was promoted to primus, the first among equals.
Over the months I’ve been stationed in Jerusalem I heard stories of a promised messiah who came in the guise of a teacher from Nazareth who was doing deeds of power and teaching about another kingdom, a kingdom not of Rome but a Kingdom of God. The teacher spoke of the coming reign of God where all would be citizens of another kingdom whether they be slave or free, Jew or Gentile, male or female.
This kingdom, he preached about, would be one where the lion and the lamb would lie down together, where spears would be turned into pruning hooks. News of the carpenter’s son spread far and wide so that people from all over Judea followed him. That is when the authorities became frightened and thought he would start another insurrection; and so they arrested the teacher and sentenced him to death.
I do not like executions and leave that to more junior soldiers. But, I was asked by my superiors to have my men cover the perimeter of the hill called Golgotha. I thought it would be another routine punishment. But, listening to Jesus’ words of forgiveness and seeing his mother again, I realized that I was a witness at both his birth and his death. I kneeled for the second time in my life again near the mother and the son. By giving his life, he gave me my life. Now I know, it is not his death that lives within me now. It is his birth in Bethlehem.
At Jesus’ birth my name was Mark, a shepherd boy, filled with wonder and adventure. Here now in this place of unspeakable sorrow, I remembered the star, the humming and the singing, and I realized that I am more Mark now than I am Marcus. I remembered who I am and whose I was. Jesus’ birth changed everything. What was inside the stable was bigger than our whole world.
It is all so clear to me now. I believe a sure as I stand here that the Bethlehem we seek is around us and within us. The gift at Bethlehem is that the manger lies in every human heart.
Jesus is born again and again every time we give ourselves in compassion and mercy to others just as God gives us a life to live through his Son.
My troops are pulling out of Jerusalem now and heading west to Caesarea. I go north to Galilee. There are reports that Jesus did not die but rose from the dead and that he is alive appearing to his disciples in Galilee.
I must go and find him for he is my peace. And when I find him I will praise him for his goodness and mercy.
Go tell it on the mountain, over the fields and through the plain that one of God’s lost sheep returns to his fold all because of the child who became a king.”
Bless His Holy Name,
MARK of Bethlehem
Sunday, December 11, 2011
Advent III - Skip Windsor
Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11
A Place to Stand
Time magazine recently asked several famous and well-known people to submit nominations for 2011’s Person of the Year. One of those asked was Jennifer Egan author of the Pulitzer Prize winning novel, A Visit from the Goon Squad. She replied,
“I’ve been torn two ways and unable to choose between Occupy Wall Street and the democracy movements of the Middle East. So maybe the answer is even a broader idea: the year of the protest, fueled by individuals willing to risk personal safety to reject a status quo that is patently, brutally unfair. The final outcomes are in no way clear, but the fact that they’re happening in places as disparate as Wall Street and Libya is a defining moment in our history.”
As we close another year it is appropriate to look back on 2011 and remember those past global events that gave rise to the Arab Spring starting with a slap in the face of a pushcart vendor by a city official in Tunisia, the uprisings in Cairo’s Tahir Square, the fall of Libya’s long time dictator Gaddafi, to the Occupy Wall Street movement that stretched from Oakland to London. What they all have in common was the recognition by a large number of people, particularly by young people, who sought to have their voices heard and to have their dreams expressed. Perhaps, as Egan says what has occurred this past year may be a defining moment in our history.
I know for me that walking among the men and women at Occupy London this past October was a revelation. At one level, it seemed like something out of the 60’s when I went to protests partially out of curiosity and part out of being part of something bigger than myself. At another level, it was about sensing some societal tectonic plates shifting under my feet. Not sure what it all meant but I was positive that something powerful was moving beneath my feet or that the answer was blowing in the wind as the singing trio, Peter, Paul and Mary, would say.
From what I have heard from others about the Occupy Boston encampment there is a sense of the same kind of message about jobs and economic justice, for accountability and transparency, and for democracy and equal opportunity. The criticisms of the occupation both here and everywhere these past two months are justified and well stated about security, health, property rights, and infringement on others. Mayor Menino of Boston orchestrated Friday night’s police evacuation of Occupy Boston with reasonableness, thoughtfulness, and patience. Unlike other cities, the police of Boston and the occupiers of Boston both handled a situation that could have had disastrous consequences.
The Mayor is to have said, “I’ve met a lot of these guys, and they are sincere. But in this sabbatical they’re about to have, I hope they come up with a strong leader and a strong agenda.” As I have reflected upon Friday night’s closing down of Occupy Boston I become more intrigued with the Mayor’s use of the word sabbatical. It is essentially a religious word meaning Sabbath or day of rest and is one of the Ten Commandments for keeping a Sabbath day holy. I wonder if the Mayor and the police had that in mind as they observed the remaining crowd disperse into the darkness early Saturday morning.
The occupiers are now on sabbatical according to the Mayor. Dewey Square is clear and cordoned off for a month. Like any of us who take sabbaticals they will take time off, reflect upon their experience, recharge their batteries, and look forward to returning to their work and witness. In a sense, it is appropriate that the OWS has time to reflect, plan and anticipate what happens next. For Advent is the precise time to reflect and prepare for what is coming next.
In our Hebrew lesson this morning the prophet Isaiah speaks about a sabbatical being the time of the Lord’s favor referencing Israel’s understanding of Jubilee when slaves were freed, debts cancelled and land redistributed. The year of Jubilee was the seventh – sabbatical - year to free those in bondage, those who were brokenhearted, and those who were oppressed. This coming of a sabbatical was rooted in their sacred texts:
“Remember you were a slave in Egypt and the Lord your God redeemed you: for this reason I lay my hand upon you” (Deut. 15:12-18). The coming of a sabbatical and the year of Jubilee commenced a time of God’s favor when human misfortune was reversed and a new beginning was proclaimed and realized.
The season of Advent for Christians is to prepare us for that time of Jubilee when God in Christ appears to redress injustice and inequity and to bring forth God’s reign of peace and dignity for all people. The discipline of Advent is to remember that God’s ways are not our ways and that God’s future will be very different from the present time.
I believe you and I are given an opportunity this Advent to reflect upon this year of protests and what it might mean for the world and for the Christian Church. At issue is not only addressing the major economic and political concerns of our generation, it is also about mending broken relationships and the breakdown of community into categories of them and us. The polarities between nations, the polarities between political parties, the polarity between the churches is the gathering darkness that must be faced and fought.
It seems to me that in the bleakness of such discord God comes among us to do something new and unexpected. I believe that the protesters of the Arab Spring and the OWS movement are telling us something that you and I need to pay attention to especially when it has to do with democracy, freedom, and justice.
And although I do not know or spent time with the Occupy Boston people others I know have; and it seems to me that when groups of people leave behind everything for a dream there is more at stake than ideology.
One person who was skeptical at first of OWS is the Episcopal priest and writer, Donna Schaper, whose church is in lower Manhattan near Zucotti Park, which is where the occupiers were encamped.
She writes in her blog that as a group of Episcopal clergy met with about a dozen occupiers she noticed “as they edged towards the theological they articulated a need for communal, inspirational, face-to-face contact in which they could ‘appear’ to one another.”
She concludes her blog by writing, “In the end, the occupiers’ argument for physical space is that they bother people by being together. ‘We are driving the mayors crazy they said.” Then Schaper writes, “Ah. What a good thing for a movement to do.”
When I walked among the women and men, boys and girls of Occupy London, the last week in October, I saw both the old and the young, rich and poor, homeless and propertied, British and foreign. All were welcomed. We were offered food to eat. Next to the tents the doors of St. Paul’s Cathedral were closed to the public. One door opened and one door closed. I thought to myself, “Right now, for the moment, I belong here among people I have never met before and will never see again more than over in that historic church.”
And as I stood there with my wife among a motley mix of people I realized how important it is that we are able to appear to one another in our common humanity. We not only need one another but we need a place to stand with one another. I think this is what this year of protest is all about. It is for people to have a place to stand.
Turning away from St. Paul’s I saw a group of men squatting on makeshift stools talking outside of one of tents. They could have been anywhere and everywhere from Tahir Square to Dewey Square. And as I looked at them and then beyond them to the vast and various multicolored tents and heard a cacophony of voices, all I could think about was the famous quote by John Donne, the famous Dean of St. Paul’s Cathedral, London, centuries ago:
“No one is an island entire to itself; everyone is a piece of the continent a part of the main… anyone’s death diminishes me, because I am involved with all; therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.”
A Place to Stand
Time magazine recently asked several famous and well-known people to submit nominations for 2011’s Person of the Year. One of those asked was Jennifer Egan author of the Pulitzer Prize winning novel, A Visit from the Goon Squad. She replied,
“I’ve been torn two ways and unable to choose between Occupy Wall Street and the democracy movements of the Middle East. So maybe the answer is even a broader idea: the year of the protest, fueled by individuals willing to risk personal safety to reject a status quo that is patently, brutally unfair. The final outcomes are in no way clear, but the fact that they’re happening in places as disparate as Wall Street and Libya is a defining moment in our history.”
As we close another year it is appropriate to look back on 2011 and remember those past global events that gave rise to the Arab Spring starting with a slap in the face of a pushcart vendor by a city official in Tunisia, the uprisings in Cairo’s Tahir Square, the fall of Libya’s long time dictator Gaddafi, to the Occupy Wall Street movement that stretched from Oakland to London. What they all have in common was the recognition by a large number of people, particularly by young people, who sought to have their voices heard and to have their dreams expressed. Perhaps, as Egan says what has occurred this past year may be a defining moment in our history.
I know for me that walking among the men and women at Occupy London this past October was a revelation. At one level, it seemed like something out of the 60’s when I went to protests partially out of curiosity and part out of being part of something bigger than myself. At another level, it was about sensing some societal tectonic plates shifting under my feet. Not sure what it all meant but I was positive that something powerful was moving beneath my feet or that the answer was blowing in the wind as the singing trio, Peter, Paul and Mary, would say.
From what I have heard from others about the Occupy Boston encampment there is a sense of the same kind of message about jobs and economic justice, for accountability and transparency, and for democracy and equal opportunity. The criticisms of the occupation both here and everywhere these past two months are justified and well stated about security, health, property rights, and infringement on others. Mayor Menino of Boston orchestrated Friday night’s police evacuation of Occupy Boston with reasonableness, thoughtfulness, and patience. Unlike other cities, the police of Boston and the occupiers of Boston both handled a situation that could have had disastrous consequences.
The Mayor is to have said, “I’ve met a lot of these guys, and they are sincere. But in this sabbatical they’re about to have, I hope they come up with a strong leader and a strong agenda.” As I have reflected upon Friday night’s closing down of Occupy Boston I become more intrigued with the Mayor’s use of the word sabbatical. It is essentially a religious word meaning Sabbath or day of rest and is one of the Ten Commandments for keeping a Sabbath day holy. I wonder if the Mayor and the police had that in mind as they observed the remaining crowd disperse into the darkness early Saturday morning.
The occupiers are now on sabbatical according to the Mayor. Dewey Square is clear and cordoned off for a month. Like any of us who take sabbaticals they will take time off, reflect upon their experience, recharge their batteries, and look forward to returning to their work and witness. In a sense, it is appropriate that the OWS has time to reflect, plan and anticipate what happens next. For Advent is the precise time to reflect and prepare for what is coming next.
In our Hebrew lesson this morning the prophet Isaiah speaks about a sabbatical being the time of the Lord’s favor referencing Israel’s understanding of Jubilee when slaves were freed, debts cancelled and land redistributed. The year of Jubilee was the seventh – sabbatical - year to free those in bondage, those who were brokenhearted, and those who were oppressed. This coming of a sabbatical was rooted in their sacred texts:
“Remember you were a slave in Egypt and the Lord your God redeemed you: for this reason I lay my hand upon you” (Deut. 15:12-18). The coming of a sabbatical and the year of Jubilee commenced a time of God’s favor when human misfortune was reversed and a new beginning was proclaimed and realized.
The season of Advent for Christians is to prepare us for that time of Jubilee when God in Christ appears to redress injustice and inequity and to bring forth God’s reign of peace and dignity for all people. The discipline of Advent is to remember that God’s ways are not our ways and that God’s future will be very different from the present time.
I believe you and I are given an opportunity this Advent to reflect upon this year of protests and what it might mean for the world and for the Christian Church. At issue is not only addressing the major economic and political concerns of our generation, it is also about mending broken relationships and the breakdown of community into categories of them and us. The polarities between nations, the polarities between political parties, the polarity between the churches is the gathering darkness that must be faced and fought.
It seems to me that in the bleakness of such discord God comes among us to do something new and unexpected. I believe that the protesters of the Arab Spring and the OWS movement are telling us something that you and I need to pay attention to especially when it has to do with democracy, freedom, and justice.
And although I do not know or spent time with the Occupy Boston people others I know have; and it seems to me that when groups of people leave behind everything for a dream there is more at stake than ideology.
One person who was skeptical at first of OWS is the Episcopal priest and writer, Donna Schaper, whose church is in lower Manhattan near Zucotti Park, which is where the occupiers were encamped.
She writes in her blog that as a group of Episcopal clergy met with about a dozen occupiers she noticed “as they edged towards the theological they articulated a need for communal, inspirational, face-to-face contact in which they could ‘appear’ to one another.”
She concludes her blog by writing, “In the end, the occupiers’ argument for physical space is that they bother people by being together. ‘We are driving the mayors crazy they said.” Then Schaper writes, “Ah. What a good thing for a movement to do.”
When I walked among the women and men, boys and girls of Occupy London, the last week in October, I saw both the old and the young, rich and poor, homeless and propertied, British and foreign. All were welcomed. We were offered food to eat. Next to the tents the doors of St. Paul’s Cathedral were closed to the public. One door opened and one door closed. I thought to myself, “Right now, for the moment, I belong here among people I have never met before and will never see again more than over in that historic church.”
And as I stood there with my wife among a motley mix of people I realized how important it is that we are able to appear to one another in our common humanity. We not only need one another but we need a place to stand with one another. I think this is what this year of protest is all about. It is for people to have a place to stand.
Turning away from St. Paul’s I saw a group of men squatting on makeshift stools talking outside of one of tents. They could have been anywhere and everywhere from Tahir Square to Dewey Square. And as I looked at them and then beyond them to the vast and various multicolored tents and heard a cacophony of voices, all I could think about was the famous quote by John Donne, the famous Dean of St. Paul’s Cathedral, London, centuries ago:
“No one is an island entire to itself; everyone is a piece of the continent a part of the main… anyone’s death diminishes me, because I am involved with all; therefore never send to know for whom the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.”
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Advent II - Myra Anderson
Come, Lord Jesus, quickly come.
Good Morning. This Second Sunday in Advent, in the 2011th year of our Lord, I have a confession to make:
I am not a good housekeeper.
My house isn’t dirty, it’s just messy. I admit it.
It is exactly one year’s worth of accumulated detritus.
Why one year? Because this is the time of year that I go on a mad frenzy to discard copious amounts of stuff and put everything back in order. My rule is, I must de-clutter before I can decorate for Christmas. Few things give me greater joy than preparing my home for the Christmas season. The reward for my efforts is great indeed.
In today’s Gospel, I’m fairly certain John the Baptist in his locust-infested hair shirt didn’t have 21st century housekeeping in mind.
The Gospel of Mark begins with a promising statement:
“The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.”
Good news! Who couldn’t use some Good News these days?
But wait, there’s a pre-amble. Mark takes us back to the prophet Isaiah:
“See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way; the voice of one crying out in the wilderness:
‘Prepare the way of the Lord, MAKE HIS PATHS STRAIGHT.’”
In other words: we have the promise of the Good News, but we have some work to do first.
We often think of the Season of Advent as one of patient anticipation. We encourage each other to find quiet moments in the chaos, to reflect on the wonder of the season, blah, blah…
Today’s Gospel and Epistle are anything but quiet. There is a sense of urgency. Mark, via John the Baptist, calls us to action, and Peter in his epistle tells us the day of the Lord will come like a thief. God is patient with us, but he’s still coming.
John the Baptist, as God’s advance man, is calling on God’s people to repent of their sins, and baptizing them in water to wash those sins away.
Repentance: THAT is our task for Advent. Clean your house. And not just once a year, unfortunately for some of us. Peter tells the early Christians they are to strive to lead lives of “holiness and godliness, waiting for and hastening the coming of the day of God.” We have a role in bringing that day about, God expects us to get busy.
We revisit this story every year at Advent. So this is an on-going ritual, this practice of repentance. Our baptisms years ago didn’t cleanse us once and for all. Life intervenes, and often. Every day stresses or extraordinary events tend to pull us away from God.
And repentance is not about guilt, or at least, it’s more than that. The original Greek word is “metanoias” – meaning a change of mind or direction. It’s not just ritual confession and absolution every week. Mark and Peter are telling us that we have to change our behavior, change our way of thinking, change the world around us, if we are to make the Lord’s path straight and usher in His Kingdom.
As Christians we often look at our lives as a journey, one we take together to help each other find the way. We can look at this call to repentance as a sort of mid-course correction. And we will have many along the way.
It brings to mind the GPS system in my car. Let’s call her Siri. When you put in your destination, Siri finds the best way for you to reach your goal (in theory – let’s just go with it for now). But let’s be honest: if it’s a long trip, things are likely to go awry. You’re going to run into road blocks, traffic jams, and if you’re a man, you’re going to be sure you know a short cut.
So you deviate. And what does Siri do, in that slightly seductive voice that’s meant to be comforting, but is actually annoying?
“Recalculating…”
And have you ever noticed, she doesn’t always set a new route. She often leads you back to the original path. “Turn right, turn right, turn right…” and lo and behold, you’re on the highway again. Or she finds another route to get you to your destination, if you’ve strayed too far.
But ultimately, it’s about reaching your destination.
And our journey is ultimately about ushering in the Kingdom of God. That’s our destination as Christians.
John the Baptist tells us about Jesus, “I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.” We celebrate the baby on the 25th of this month, we commemorate the beginning, but it’s really about the end. It’s the baptism by the fire of the Holy Spirit that prepares us for what Peter calls the “new heavens and a new earth, where righteousness is at home.”
We know from Mark’s opening proclamation something really good is happening. Peter’s epistle tells us to wait with penitence and hope. It’s not too late he says. God’s grace is there for all who seek it and accept it.
Good news already, I’d say.
May we all take this season to examine fully the course of our lives, and to seek those mid-course corrections that allow us to receive the fire of the Holy Spirit, reach out to the world around us, and make straight the path of our Lord.
Come, Lord Jesus, quickly come.
Good Morning. This Second Sunday in Advent, in the 2011th year of our Lord, I have a confession to make:
I am not a good housekeeper.
My house isn’t dirty, it’s just messy. I admit it.
It is exactly one year’s worth of accumulated detritus.
Why one year? Because this is the time of year that I go on a mad frenzy to discard copious amounts of stuff and put everything back in order. My rule is, I must de-clutter before I can decorate for Christmas. Few things give me greater joy than preparing my home for the Christmas season. The reward for my efforts is great indeed.
In today’s Gospel, I’m fairly certain John the Baptist in his locust-infested hair shirt didn’t have 21st century housekeeping in mind.
The Gospel of Mark begins with a promising statement:
“The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.”
Good news! Who couldn’t use some Good News these days?
But wait, there’s a pre-amble. Mark takes us back to the prophet Isaiah:
“See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way; the voice of one crying out in the wilderness:
‘Prepare the way of the Lord, MAKE HIS PATHS STRAIGHT.’”
In other words: we have the promise of the Good News, but we have some work to do first.
We often think of the Season of Advent as one of patient anticipation. We encourage each other to find quiet moments in the chaos, to reflect on the wonder of the season, blah, blah…
Today’s Gospel and Epistle are anything but quiet. There is a sense of urgency. Mark, via John the Baptist, calls us to action, and Peter in his epistle tells us the day of the Lord will come like a thief. God is patient with us, but he’s still coming.
John the Baptist, as God’s advance man, is calling on God’s people to repent of their sins, and baptizing them in water to wash those sins away.
Repentance: THAT is our task for Advent. Clean your house. And not just once a year, unfortunately for some of us. Peter tells the early Christians they are to strive to lead lives of “holiness and godliness, waiting for and hastening the coming of the day of God.” We have a role in bringing that day about, God expects us to get busy.
We revisit this story every year at Advent. So this is an on-going ritual, this practice of repentance. Our baptisms years ago didn’t cleanse us once and for all. Life intervenes, and often. Every day stresses or extraordinary events tend to pull us away from God.
And repentance is not about guilt, or at least, it’s more than that. The original Greek word is “metanoias” – meaning a change of mind or direction. It’s not just ritual confession and absolution every week. Mark and Peter are telling us that we have to change our behavior, change our way of thinking, change the world around us, if we are to make the Lord’s path straight and usher in His Kingdom.
As Christians we often look at our lives as a journey, one we take together to help each other find the way. We can look at this call to repentance as a sort of mid-course correction. And we will have many along the way.
It brings to mind the GPS system in my car. Let’s call her Siri. When you put in your destination, Siri finds the best way for you to reach your goal (in theory – let’s just go with it for now). But let’s be honest: if it’s a long trip, things are likely to go awry. You’re going to run into road blocks, traffic jams, and if you’re a man, you’re going to be sure you know a short cut.
So you deviate. And what does Siri do, in that slightly seductive voice that’s meant to be comforting, but is actually annoying?
“Recalculating…”
And have you ever noticed, she doesn’t always set a new route. She often leads you back to the original path. “Turn right, turn right, turn right…” and lo and behold, you’re on the highway again. Or she finds another route to get you to your destination, if you’ve strayed too far.
But ultimately, it’s about reaching your destination.
And our journey is ultimately about ushering in the Kingdom of God. That’s our destination as Christians.
John the Baptist tells us about Jesus, “I have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.” We celebrate the baby on the 25th of this month, we commemorate the beginning, but it’s really about the end. It’s the baptism by the fire of the Holy Spirit that prepares us for what Peter calls the “new heavens and a new earth, where righteousness is at home.”
We know from Mark’s opening proclamation something really good is happening. Peter’s epistle tells us to wait with penitence and hope. It’s not too late he says. God’s grace is there for all who seek it and accept it.
Good news already, I’d say.
May we all take this season to examine fully the course of our lives, and to seek those mid-course corrections that allow us to receive the fire of the Holy Spirit, reach out to the world around us, and make straight the path of our Lord.
Come, Lord Jesus, quickly come.
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