Tag Archives: blessing

On Cultivating Gratitude…

22 Wednesday Nov 2017

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Photo credit:  sixtyandme.com/50-women-over-50-express-their-gratitude-on-thanksgiving-day/

I don’t know about you, but I find my spiritual life has hills and valleys.  There are times when I feel especially close to God, and that closeness leads to a sense of overflowing gratitude.  And there are times when I fill up the extra space in my life with everything but God.  In those valleys, I sometimes feel God is far away – mostly because that is where I pushed God.  In those times, gratitude is often the last thing I experience.  Instead, I can be irritable and short-tempered.

In order to stay out of those valleys of self-absorption, I have found I need intentional practices of gratitude.  Celebrating Thanksgiving Day tomorrow helps put most of us in a spirit of gratitude (assuming we are not in a spiral of menacing traveling conditions, dread about time with challenging family members, or anxiety about food preparations).  But this year, I have found that I am coming into Thanksgiving Day with a full cup.  I am working on a stack of thank you notes for the generous pledges our parishioners have made to our church; the generosity of our parishioners makes writing the notes a joy.  Our church has been negotiating a new partnership which looks like may come to fruition; it is the culmination of a lot of dreams, most of which began before my arrival, and the promise of fulfillment is at times overwhelming.  And our church has two different services for Thanksgiving:  one with our ecumenical brothers and sisters, and a mass on Thanksgiving Day; both are occasions for deep joy and gratitude.

The thing about these events and experiences is they cultivate in me a spirit of gratitude.  When my spirit is primed for thanksgiving, every time I take a walk or hop in my car, I find a breathtaking tree that has hit its peak fall color.  When my spirit is primed for thanksgiving, the little things my family does – an unprompted “thank you,” a cleaning up of the kitchen, a spontaneous hug – all make my heart warmed.  When my spirit is primed for thanksgiving, I see the daily tasks of others that go unnoticed:  the county worker clearing a dead animal from the street, the childcare provider who sees my child being extra clingy and swoops her up in a big, distracting hug, or the administrator who has already thought about the things on my mind and started the projects I need accomplished.

If your spirit has not been primed, there is still time.  Perhaps you can start with tomorrow’s celebration, looking for glimpses of hope and blessing throughout your day (even in the midst of family drama, I promise you can find those glimpses!).  But do not let the thanksgiving end there.  Find ways to enrich your spirit each day:  whether it is putting on lenses of gratitude, taking up a tangible practice, or surrounding yourself with others who are naturally inclined toward an attitude of gratitude.  My suspicion is you will find your cup running over soon, and that overflow can be a blessing to others!

On Seeing Sacred Moments…

18 Wednesday Oct 2017

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In general, my children are pretty typical in many ways – they have their good days and their bad days.  They tattle on each other, try to sneak in a hit or shove, and one will occasionally shout how she “hates her life.”  But then, every once in a while, totally unprompted and seemingly “out of sight,” I will overhear the love, care, and affection they have for one another.  One child will walk over the other who is crying, and she will give a hug and offer reassuring words.  Or the two children will gleefully play with one another without arguing or fussing.  Or best of all, I will hear them laughing pure, innocent laughs together.  In these holy moments, they show me the light of God’s presence, and reveal their best qualities – that they are individuals full of love and compassion.

These last few weeks at our church, I feel like I have been able to see similar holy moments.  We are preparing for our Annual Fall Festival, from which all the proceeds go to support local ministries.  As we lead up to the event, I have seen countless tasks being done by parishioners:  from making up food order forms and staffing tables for pre-orders, from cleaning out closets to pricing and sorting donations, from recruiting donations from local businesses to developing the silent auction booklet, from breaking down our worship space to setting up parking space.  As the weeks and days have gotten closer to our festival, I have seen hard work, commitments of time, generosity of spirit, and joy in participation.  Most of the work could go unnoticed; even those of us who volunteer do not always see all the other work that is happening somewhere else.

But today, I want to say, “I see you.”  I see you, Hickory Neck, giving your cherished time to support the church.  I see you, sharing in fellowship as you work together on projects.  I see you, passionate about your neighbors in need and working a little bit harder.  I see you in holy moments, individually and collectively, and I am so proud of you.  Your laughter together is a sweet, sacred sound.  Your labor is a witness to me and to our community of God’s abundant love for all.  Well done, good and faithful servants!  You are a blessing!!

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Photo credit:  food.ndtv.com/health/10-surprising-health-benefits-of-laughter-1464095

Sermon – Matthew 15:10-28, P15, YA, August 20, 2017

23 Wednesday Aug 2017

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I have never really liked the story we hear from our gospel lesson today.  Every time I have heard or read the story of Jesus’ interaction with the Canaanite woman, I cringe.  I do not like the way Jesus ignores the woman.  I do not like the way Jesus then tries to dismiss her – not only because his dismissal is rude, but also because he is being exclusive, saying that his ministry is only for chosen of God.  And I especially do not like the way Jesus not only calls her a dog, but also basically treats her like a dog.  This is not the Jesus I know.  And I am pretty sure that this is not what the slogan designers meant when they asked, “What would Jesus do?”

But the real problem with this story, the problem that I do not like to talk about, is Jesus’ ugly behavior reminds me of all the times I have acted in a similarly ugly way.  Most of the time, my ugly behavior is well-intentioned or even justifiable.  When I see a homeless person or someone begging for money, and I know that I have nothing to give them that day, I have honed the art of avoiding eye contact.  Or, when I am not protected by the rolled-up windows of my car, and a similar person asks me directly for help, I have figured out my patented response, “Sorry I do not have any cash;” which is sometimes true, but is often a lie.  I do have cash, but I feel awkward explaining that I give to agencies that make a difference for people like them to protect me from having to have this very same engagement.  Or I have had countless conversations with people I have helped through the church’s discretionary fund, only to have to say “no” when they show up two weeks later because, as I clearly communicated, we have a policy of helping people not more than once every six months.

Now I can completely explain all the reasons for the things I do:  I am a petite woman, so avoiding engagement with what could be a volatile, unstable person is generally a good practice; I have created a framework for giving which makes a difference, but also makes me feel more comfortable; I have a system for our emergency assistance program because I need to make sure the church’s discretionary fund supports as many people as possible, and as fairly as possible.  All of those explanations are good, and they exhibit healthy boundary-drawing.  In fact, I have had multiple conversations over the years when each of those decisions has been labeled as smart, intentional, and fair.  And yet, when I am in the midst of each of those types of scenarios, the execution of those smart decisions still feels ugly.  I feel like I am actually following that slogan, “What would Jesus do,” when I am in the midst of ignoring, explaining why I cannot help, or firmly drawing a boundary with someone who is being too pushy.  But instead of following the Jesus we find in our passage today and feeling good about myself, I am left with a sense of discomfort.

So, if I feel uncomfortable with my actions, and I especially feel uncomfortable with this version of Jesus that we find in Holy Scripture, why is this story in scripture at all?  And why, of all the texts they could have included, did the designers of our lectionary demand that we hear this particular passage?  Let’s start with the first question – why this story is in scripture at all.  The good news is that this scripture, despite all its ugliness and discomfort is important.  Jesus is sent to the people of God with a very specific mission:  to initiate God’s purposes for God’s people.  God had promised long ago to send a messiah to save God’s people.  Jesus is now enacting that mission.  Jesus has been clear all along that God’s mission starts with God’s people.  In Matthew’s gospel, when Jesus sends out the disciples the first time, Jesus tells the disciples to go only to the house of Israel, not to be distracted by the Gentiles, or non-Jewish peoples.  He is not necessarily being exclusive.  Jesus knows that the people of Israel are going to be a blessing to all people, including the Gentiles.  But the first job is to get the people of Israel on board – to help them understand that the messiah is here and the reign of God is beginning.[i]

The problem for Jesus, and perhaps the reason why we find Jesus the way we find him today, is that the people of God are not listening.  They are throwing Jesus out of towns, they are arguing with him about the following of laws instead of seeing the fulfillment of the law, and they are faltering in their faith.  Just last week we watched as Peter sunk into the sea.  Today, Jesus is moving on to Tyre and Sidon because his people have kicked him out of town.  And all of that stuff we heard today about what defiles a person being what comes out of the mouth, not what goes in, is an argument about getting so caught up in the letter of the law that one cannot see how one is violating the spirit of the law.  So here Jesus is, beating his head against a wall, with the people of God refusing to understand or listen to him, when a woman from a country his people oppose says very simply, “Lord, Son of David.”  The people of God, the leaders of the people of God, even the disciples of God do not get who Jesus is.  But this unclean, foreign, woman – so a triple outcast – gets who Jesus is.

So, we can imagine that Jesus is feeling a little raw – in a sea of rejection, the affirmation of this lowly outsider may not have been enough to draw him out of his funk.[ii]  Fair enough.  But the woman persists.  Jesus lets down his guard a little bit, and instead of ignoring her explains he is not trying to be rude, but he has been sent on a mission that entails him proceeding in a particular manner – Jews first, Gentiles later.  But the woman persists again.  And frazzled, rejected Jesus, who has tried to politely ignore, then perhaps politely explain, snaps and asserts his boundary.  “The good news is just not ready for Gentiles, okay?”  But the woman persists again.  She takes Jesus’ nasty words and she transforms them.  She takes that belittling label “dog,” and puts the label right in front of Jesus.  She does not want to wait for Easter.[iii]  She does not want to wait for the people of God to wake up.  She wants her blessing, the blessing that God eventually intends anyway, to start.  Right now.

And Jesus does that beautiful, awful thing we all hate to do.  Jesus admits he is wrong.  He heals her daughter, seeing in the persistence of this woman that he has gotten so caught up in the proper process and the appropriate boundaries that he has limited the power of the gospel and the reach of the good news.

The last two weeks I have been working on a request for financial assistance.  The person needed rental assistance, and the case had been fully vetted.  I knew Hickory Neck could not cover the full rental payment, so I offered to collaborate with some other churches.  Now any of you who have ever tried to collaborate know that although collaboration is good, collaboration is never simple nor fast.  So this week, the case came back around because the deadline is rapidly approaching.  I explained where we were and how I needed to get back to the churches I had invited to help.  The person I had been working with finally snapped and said, “You guys are all wrapped up in all these protests over something that happened hundreds of years ago.  But when the effects of racism are staring you in the face, and you can actually do something about it, you can’t seem to move!”  I felt like I had been slapped in the face.  Here I was following my process, staying with in the reasoned boundaries I have created, working creatively to solve the problem, while also being quite passionate about and wanting to work on correcting the sin of racism that our whole country is addressing since Charlottesville last weekend.  And here was a Canaanite woman, a Gentile calling me out – pushing me out of the theoretical, or the master plan, and asking me to look her in the face and explain why the fulfillment of God’s promise cannot happen today.

We do not like this story today because Jesus is dismissive, rude, and mean.  But mostly we do not like this story because Jesus’ story reminds us of the times we have been dismissive, rude, or mean.  We can claim that we do not like how Jesus behaves in this story, but really we do not like how Jesus is a mirror of our own behavior in this story.  And for that reason, I am grateful for the discomfort today.  I am grateful for the ways in which I am squirming today because something tremendous happens when Jesus gets uncomfortable today.  When Jesus gets slapped in the face by the Canaanite woman, he wakes up.  He stops, sees, and hears her.  And he changes course.  This lowly triple-outcast changes the ministry of Christ forever.  No longer is Jesus doggedly sticking to the plan of the redemption of Jews followed by the redemption of Gentiles.  Jesus mercy and mission get wider, right in this very moment.[iv]  Jesus’ wide arms of mercy, love, and grace spread just a bit wider, eventually being spread so wide that they fit onto the cross.

Our invitation today is to let our arms start moving to the same position.  I do not know who the Canaanite women are in your lives.  I do not know if your heart needs softening on racism, on sexism, or on some other -ism.  I do not know if you heart needs softening on some other person or group you have deemed beyond redemption.  I do not know if your heart needs softening by the person whose eyes you are avoiding.  But our invitation today is to recognize that our dismissiveness, our exclusion, our boundary-drawing is already in line with what Jesus would do.  Now Jesus is inviting us to keep doing what Jesus would do and to change our minds – to do better, to behave better, to be better.  Stretching our arms that far wide will be hard.  But the promise of transformation is much more powerful than anything we have imagined.

[i] N. T. Wright, Matthew for Everyone, Part 1 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2004), 199-200.

[ii] Barbara Brown Taylor, The Seeds of Heaven:  Sermons on the Gospel of Matthew (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2004), 62.

[iii] Wright, 201.

[iv] Brown Taylor, 64-65.

On the Power of Hands…

03 Wednesday May 2017

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Photo credit:  https://www.sevenwholedays.org/2012/05/29/on-confirmation/

When I was confirmed as an Episcopalian, the decision to be in the Cathedral that day was preceded by a long journey.  I took not one, but two confirmation classes, not feeling entirely ready after the first class.  I was not only discerning whether I was called to membership in the Episcopal Church, I was also discerning a call to ordained ministry in the Church.  I had spent over a year studying, praying, talking to people about their denomination experiences, and listening for the voice of God.  I had to have conversations with people like my father, who not only was a United Methodist minister, but also was his father, his brother, his uncles, and on and on.  Needless to say, when I knelt down in front of the bishop that day, I came with the weight and conviction of that discernment process.

But something powerful happened when the Bishop put his hands on my head, and my presenters put their hands on my shoulders.  Though the weight of those hands was heavy, the weight also seemed to melt away the year of toil and angst.  The power of those hands seemed to push out of my being any doubt or sense of wandering, and instead, a wave of peace, affirmation, and purpose washed over me.  When the Dean helped me rise to my feet, I felt light and buoyant.  The imprint of those hands felt both oddly still heavily present and yet empowering.

This Sunday, we will be confirming and receiving several parishioners at our triennial bishop’s visit.  They come from all walks of life.  Some are youth who were born and raised in the Episcopal Church.  Some are adults from Baptist, United Methodist, and Roman Catholic backgrounds.  Some bring burdens from their past experiences in the church and some are deeply appreciative of their roots in another tradition.  All have spent time in study, reflection, and discernment about whether this is the right decision for them.  And all are excited about the new ways they have seen God inspiring their spiritual journey, and are hopeful about the ways that Hickory Neck will walk with them on that journey.

All of that – the preparation, the discernment, the long histories, the maturing of youth, the questions, and the affirmation all come through hands – hands that have been blessed through the centuries and consecrated to bless this new phase of journeys.  I look forward to this momentous occasion and all it brings for our confirmands and those being received.  And I can’t wait to see where the journey takes them in the years to come!

On hitting our stride…

08 Wednesday Feb 2017

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family-service-1This weekend, our Vestry gathered for a retreat.  Only a few things were on the agenda:  getting to know each other better (nothing like filling out some Lent Madness brackets to help you get to know someone!), defining who we are as a community, and looking forward to where we are going.  The weekend was a wonderful combination of laughter, reflection, quiet, conversation, dreaming, and planning.  I am reminded once again how blessed we are by the diverse, talented group of leaders who are helping guide our parish into its next phase of life.

One of the things we did on our retreat was to watch a video about Hickory Neck from 2004.  As a relative newcomer to Hickory Neck, it was fascinating to see so many familiar faces (don’t worry – you all still look fabulous!), to hear what was energizing the community back then, and to see what the goals and dreams were.  The video was produced to prepare Hickory Neck for a capital campaign which would support the construction of our New Chapel.  Despite the intent to raise funds, you still could hear clearly what Hickory Neck was about, and where it was going.

What I loved about watching the video was seeing how much things have changed, and how some things have not changed at all.  We are still a community of hope, joy, and belonging.  We still love to worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness, we are still journeying toward deeper relationship with God and our neighbor, and we still want to be beacon of light to our neighbors in need.  And yet, since the video was created, the economy has changed, technology has changed, and demographics have changed.  Our work now is listening to the new ways God is calling us to be faithful disciples to a world in need of redemption.

This is an exciting time for Hickory Neck.  These last ten months, we have been alternately jogging, sprinting, and trying to match each other’s pace.  As we wrap up this first year together, we are hitting a rhythmic stride together.  We have learned a lot more about each other, figured out how to adjust for each other’s gifts and talents, and are now getting ready to take off.  It’s an exciting time and the fun is just beginning.  If you haven’t met Hickory Neck yet, I would encourage you to come on over and check us out.  You won’t be disappointed!  And if you have been around a bit, I think you are going to be pleased to be a part of this next phase of life and ministry together.  God has great things in store!

Making it Work…

17 Wednesday Aug 2016

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Millennial-marriage

Photo credit:  marriage.about.com/od/proposingbeingengaged/

This month, my husband and I celebrated fifteen years of marriage.  Now I know fifteen may not seem like a big deal to some – it is certainly not 25, 50, or even the 64 years that one of the couples at church is celebrating this month.  But having worked with couples in premarital counseling for several years now, having worked with couples who were struggling with the strains marriage can bring, and having talked with couples who have had failed marriages, I know that marriage is not simply a gift.  Marriage is not just something that happens.  Marriage is something you work at, that you choose everyday (even on the days you would rather not), that is constantly tested, and that needs tending and loving care.  While wedding days are lovely, they are only the first day of many days that you will have to return to the commitment you made to make it work.

That being said, marriage is also a tremendous blessing.  It can be the place where you learn about the depths of love; your capacity for forgiveness (in part, because you are forgiven so often); where you can find the most honest, if not brutal, truth; where you can laugh more deeply than you ever have because that person knows what really produces a belly laugh; where you experience affirming, life-giving sexual pleasure; and where you find abiding companionship.  When we got married fifteen years ago, I was not entirely sure how things would go.  My own parents had gotten divorced just three years before our marriage began, and part of me wondered whether marriage could be done successfully.  I am so glad I made the leap anyway because marriage has brought joys (and challenges) that I never could have imagined.

I do not often talk about marriage because I work with a variety of people in all walks of life:  people who want to be married but have not found a partner, people who have lost their spouse to death, people who are divorced or who feel like the marriage is on the brink of failure, people who had abusive spouses, and people, who until very recently, were not allowed to be legally married.  At times, I have considered having a Valentine’s Day reaffirmation of vows celebration, as I have seen in other parishes, but shied away because I did not want anyone to think I was being insensitive to those for whom marriage is difficult.

All of that being said, my hope today is not to highlight how blissfully easy and wonderful marriage is.  Simply put, my hope is to honor how each day of marriage can be both a blessing and a challenge – and to thank God for the strength, wisdom, humility, and grace my husband and I have been given to get this far.  I pray for continued strength, wisdom, humility, and grace, as I pray for each of you on your various journeys in partnered, single, and dating life.  In the marriage liturgy of the Episcopal Church, we offer this petition at weddings.  Today, I leave it for my husband and I and all of you doing the work of marriage:  Grant that all married persons who have witnessed these vows may find their lives strengthened and their loyalties confirmed. Amen.  (BCP, 430)

 

 

Sermon – Acts 16.9-15, E6, YC, May 1, 2016

06 Friday May 2016

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One of the things that the Search Committee, Vestry, and I all talked about during our time of discernment was church growth.  Now church growth is a loaded topic because inherent in the conversation are a lot of assumptions.  One assumption is that we can talk about church growth without talking about change.  Many churches say they want to grow, but what they mean is that they want to find fresh meat for volunteer positions and new pledgers for the budget.  But inherent in church growth are not just bodies to fill out needs:  church growth means incorporating new people who will have new ideas, new dreams, and new ways of doing things.  The second assumption when we talk about church growth is that we can go about church growth passively.  In other words, as long as we have a good website, we have good programs, a shiny new Rector, and we are nice to people once they arrive, we will grow.  While those things are important and necessary, those things do not fully address how we get people to step on our property, how we encourage people to come back after a first visit, or how we incorporate newcomers fully into the life and ministry of the church.  The final, and my personal favorite, assumption is that church growth is done by the Rector.  The Rector can certainly help lay the foundation of a strong system of invitation, welcome, and incorporation.  But the primary way that church growth happens is through Church members inviting others to church.

All that is to say that my response to the Search Committee and Vestry went a little like this:  I am more than happy to give Hickory Neck all of the infrastructure Hickory Neck needs to grow; but Hickory Neck is going to have to work, be open to change, and get real comfortable with talking about their faith in the neighborhood.  Now I know many of you may be sitting here right now, cursing the Search Committee and Vestry for signing you up for some hard, scary work ahead.  But let me let you in on a little secret:  church growth (or evangelism, if we are feeling really sassy) is not that hard or scary.  That is the great thing about the readings from the Acts of the Apostles during Eastertide:  they are all about the growth of the church.  Last week we heard about how Peter began to understand that God was calling him to share the Good News with the gentiles.  Today, we hear about how Paul is diverted to Europe to share the Good News with the people of Macedonia.

Many of us get a little uncomfortable talking about apostles spreading the Good News because the stories about Peter and Paul seem strange and foreign.  They involve dreams or visions in which God tells them what to do.  They involve going to foreign lands to talk with strangers.  And they sometimes involve, as we will hear next week, getting arrested and sent to jail.  Most of us hear these familiar stories and assume that the stories do not really apply to us because they are historical, ancient stories.  But after the drama of being diverted to a foreign land and searching for a place to join with sympathetic people, what happens to Paul in our text today is not actually all that foreign or unrelatable.  The story tells us that on the Sabbath day, Paul and his companions go find where faithful people are gathered and simply start talking.  The text does not say that Paul gives a presentation about the merits of converting to Christianity.  The text does not say that Paul leads a worship service, with music and the holy meal.  The text simply says that Paul sits down among those gathered, and starts talking.  While Paul is talking, a woman in the group, Lydia, who we understand from the text is an independent woman of wealth[i], overhears what Paul is saying and is so compelled by what Paul says that she and her household are not only baptized, but insist that Paul and his companions come stay with her during their stay in Philippi.

Soon after I became a rector for the first time, I realized I had a lot to learn about church growth.  I read books, poured through research, and talked with experts in the field.  One of my favorite conversations about church growth was with a friend who does church consulting on growth.  In her formation, she had a professor who insisted as part of her training that she needed to go out into town and just start talking to people about Jesus.  She was terrified.  For the first few weeks of class, my friend, now a priest, lied to her professor.  Each week he would ask her how the project was going, and she would tell him that the project was going well.  Finally, the professor called her bluff and insisted that she immediately go somewhere and do her assignment.  So my friend went to a coffee shop, wrote on a piece of paper, “Talk to me about Jesus and I will buy you a cup of coffee,” and then set up her laptop in the hopes that no one would take her up on the offer.  Much to her chagrin, a patron came up to her and said, “I’ll talk to you about Jesus, but I’ll buy the coffee.”  The conversation that ensued was full of the stranger’s story – about how she used to go to church, how she still believes, how the church hurt her, but how she still misses having a church community.  My friend listened to the story, honored the stranger by acknowledging how hard her journey had been, and then did the one thing that is key when talking about church growth.  My friend acknowledged where she saw the presence of God in this stranger’s journey.  And, for good measure, my friend told her that if she ever wanted to try church again, she knew a great place that might just work.

That is the funny thing about church growth.  Church growth happens through real people having real conversations in real time.  Paul sits down with a bunch of women and starts talking.  My friend sat down with a stranger and listened and reflected back on the stranger’s journey.  That is the same invitation that I will be giving us to do over and over again in my time here at Hickory Neck:  that we start having real conversations with real people in real time.  Now I know what some of you may be thinking.  First, you may be thinking, “I cannot believe the Search Committee and Vestry decided to hire this priest who is going to make me do this!”  Second, you may be thinking, “I have no idea how to have real conversations with real people in real time!  What does she expect me to do?  Start talking to strangers at the coffee shop, on the golf course, and at the Little League game?”

Before you get too anxious, I want to give you a little piece of comfort from scripture.  In Peter’s story last week, in Paul’s story today, and in the texts coming up next week and at Pentecost, we learn that all of these encounters happen with the Holy Spirit going before, making a way for the encounter to happen.  In today’s story, Paul has no intention of going to Macedonia.  In fact, in the verses we did not read today, Paul and his crew actually had plans and made attempts to go to other places, but their plans were thwarted by the Holy Spirit.  Finally, Paul has a vision that he was supposed to go to Macedonia.[ii]  Once he and the group decide to follow that vision, everything becomes smooth.  Their travel is not thwarted, they easily find their way to Philippi, they stumble onto a group of women who are believers, and out of nowhere, just through conversations about faith, Lydia steps up and not only desires baptism, she demands that Paul and his company accept her hospitality.  That is the reality about growth:  yes, growth involves putting ourselves out there to have hard conversations, and yes, growth involves being vulnerable and uncomfortable, and yes, growth will even involve change to us personally and to our community as a whole.  But God shows us through the story of scripture, that the Holy Spirit is ever before us, making the way smooth.  When our intentions are simply to share our story, to listen to the stories of others, and to honor the ways in which God is already active and blessing us, then the rest flows smoothly.

We are probably going to be talking about church growth a lot in the years to come.  We will talk about how to grow, we will make changes that will create a strong foundation for invitation, welcome, and incorporation, and we will get out there and talk to our neighbors.  But at the heart of all that work is the promise that the Holy Spirit is ever before us, making the way smooth, calming our nerves so that God can work in spite of us, and showing us how our holy conversations will be a source of blessing to us as much as those conversations are a blessing to others.[iii]  We will do this work together:  you, me, and the Holy Spirit.  The work will be hard, scary, and beautiful.  The work will be a blessing to us all and allow us to be a blessing to this community.  We can do this work together, because the Holy Spirit goes before us.  Amen.

[i] David G. Forney, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Year C, Vol. 2 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 476.

[ii] Brian Peterson, “Commentary on Acts 16:9-15,” May 5, 2013, as found at http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=1627 on April 27, 2016.

[iii] Peterson.

O death…

16 Wednesday Sep 2015

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This past week I have been thinking a lot about death.  It’s probably a function of being a priest, but death is ever a part of my journey.  Many days I can avoid thinking about it.  But I imagine that is not really what God wants.  Just to prove the point, I find that deaths usually come in threes.  No one can avoid thinking about death when they come in threes.

That was the case last week.  Within 24 hours, a parishioner, a family member, and an acquaintance all died.  The parishioner was retired but was living a full life.  She went in to check on some pain and within four months she was gone.  The family member was much older.  She had lived a full life and the journey toward death took a long time.  We were sad, but ready.  The acquaintance was around my age and had three kids at the same nursery school one of my daughters attends.  She got sick and within a week died.  Three children.  My age.

That’s the funny thing about death.  We can pretend it happens only to old people (which we never are – even when we are).  We can pretend it is far away and will come when we are fully prepared and ready to join our God.  We can pretend that death is non-existent.  But we know that is all pretend.  We know that pretending is just our way of masking how scary death is.  For those of us who believe in eternal life, we like to say that life is changed, not ended.  But that is what we say about others.  I wonder how much we can proclaim it for ourselves.

One of my favorite songs from the film “O Brother, Where Art Thou,” soundtrack is called “O Death.”  In the song, the artist sings, “O, death, won’t you spare me over til another year.”  The singer’s voice is haunting.  And while there is a part of us that knows we should not fear death, there is something in that song’s words that resonates with us.  We want one more year.  One more decade.  One more lifetime.

And yet death comes.  Sometimes death comes within a week – within a day.  I wonder what you would do differently with your life if you were willing to let that reality slip over you.  What has God been calling you to do that you have been avoiding?  What have you been meaning to say to someone that you don’t say because you are afraid?  Does the reality of death make you want to move?  Though the questions are heavy, as is the topic, I think there is freedom in the questions too.  We can let go of all that is weighing us down and start living.  The promise of earthly death is a blessing – one that frees us to live this life with abundance, grace, and joy.  How will you start living into that joy today?

Sermon – Joel 2.1-2, 12-17, AW, YB, February 18, 2015

25 Wednesday Feb 2015

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For those of us who have been around the church for any amount of time, we have become quite accustomed to the season of Lent.  We dutifully find a Lenten discipline:  buying that book we are going to read, ridding the house of chocolate, or purchasing new athletic gear for the exercise we plan to take up.  Or if we are feeling particularly uninspired, we may ask our friends and family what they are giving up for Lent this year, in the hopes that something will inspire us too.  We do all these things because we feel obligated.  We take up a discipline because that is what we are supposed to do, not because we particularly want to take up the discipline.  Lenten disciplines have sort of become the second-chance for New Year’s Resolutions.  Whatever failed then might have more luck if we do the discipline in the name of Jesus.  Then we can feel doubly good because not only did we give up red meat for Jesus, but we also lost four pounds.  In that way, Lent is great!

The challenge with that kind of engagement with Lent is that our practices become more about giving up something for the sake of giving up something instead of giving up something because that sacrifice will drive us into the arms of God.  When we choose a Lenten discipline, we choose that discipline not out of habit, or out of peer pressure, or even in the hopes of the secondary benefits (like losing weight or finally getting through our pile of books).  To get to the true heart of Lent, we choose our Lenten disciplines out of a sense of urgency – out of a sense that something needs to change and something needs to change now.

That is what the prophet Joel was trying to say to the people of Israel in our Old Testament lesson today.  You see, “Tradition held that on the Day of the Lord, God would come to vindicate Israel, to judge the nations that had opposed and oppressed her, and to reverse the status quo in favor of the people of Jerusalem”[i] The Israelites had come to believe that the Day of the Lord would be a day of celebration and vindication.  Any sacrifices they made or disciplines they assumed were because they were anticipating a reward.  But Joel tells them that their very identity as the chosen people of God is what brings them up short.  Instead of favor, they will receive a harsher judgment than anyone.

As a parent, I tend to read a lot of parenting blogs and articles.  One of the on-going conversations is about whether children should receive compensation for their chores.  People make arguments that children should never be given money for chores, because paying children for chores teaches them that they should only participate in the life of the family if they will receive something in return.  Instead, many critics argue that chores should be presented as work that is simply expected of all capable members of the family.  In doing chores out of membership instead of reward, the critics argue that children learn a sense of pride and belonging.  Their argument is similar to Joel’s:  favor and belonging in God’s eyes comes with expectations, not prizes.

But Joel’s critique of Israel goes even deeper.  Joel reminds the people of God that not only do they need to repent, they also need to repent with their whole heart.  Joel says they are to rend their hearts, not their garments.  The rending of garments was a ritual practice of repentance.  But Joel insists that God does not simply want ritual repentance.  God wants the kind of repentance that is felt deep in one’s heart.  They are to “approach God in sincerity, rather than by ritual; to beseech God’s mercy through genuine mourning for sin, rather than by cultic rite.  Joel calls for true repentance, the complete turning away from destructive patterns, selfish, inclinations, and self-righteous expectations.  God wants the whole person, not some outward sign…”[ii]  To rend one’s heart was not simply an emotional response.  As one scholar suggests, “Since the heart was considered the seat of thinking and willing, [a commitment of the heart] implied total dedication.”[iii]

That is the kind of discipline we are invited to take up this Lent.  Disciplines that reflect on the ways that we have separated ourselves from God, the ways that we have become so wrapped up in ourselves that we have pushed God away, and the ways that we have simply neglected our relationship with God – those are the disciplines that will create meaning and substance.  When we think about rending our hearts, our disciplines will make space in our lives for us to stop in our tracks, to turn around on our current paths, and to journey back to God’s open arms.

The good news is that we do not do this work alone.  In fact, Joel insists that God not only wants the whole person, God wants “the whole people, the whole city of Jerusalem, indeed, the entire nation.  This is not a call to the pious, or to the willing, or to those who are expected to make offering to the Lord, but to all.”[iv]  When Joel says to gather the aged, the children, the infants, and the newlyweds, he means that even those who normally would not need to repent need to come into the fold.  God is interested not simply in a personal relationship with the people, but with a communal one.

This year, I invited the parish to join me in the solemn practice of playing Lent Madness.  Most of you have wondered why I invited us to play together, especially in something that seemed so silly.  Some of you complained that the process seemed too confusing, or just were not sure why we needed to do something as weird as a sports and saints hybrid.  Part of my motivation in getting us to do a discipline together is that I know how hard isolating Lenten disciplines can be.  When we set a goal of praying or reading scripture for an hour a day during Lent, no one should be surprised when we fail ten days into the practice.  Perhaps we fail because we are doing the practice out of a sense of obligation to be holy.  Perhaps we fail because we have not really done the hard work of rending our hearts – searching for the ways that we are deeply separated from God and need to return to God.  Or perhaps we fail because we were too prideful to repent in the context of community.

Now I am not insisting that you play Lent Madness.  I am simply suggesting that sometimes our piety is so about ourselves that we forget the community of saints sitting right beside us who long to rend their hearts too, but cannot seem to do the work alone.  Together we can do the hard work of rending our hearts.  We can do the hard work of repenting, of truly turning back to the God who longs to be in communion with us.  We can do the hard work of being a vulnerable, loving, supporting community.  Our encouragement in all this work comes from Joel too.  Joel affirms for us that for God is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, and relents from punishing.  Joel even conjectures, “Who knows whether God will not turn and relent, and leave a blessing behind.”  The expectations are high.  The work is hard.  The community works together.  Because our God is gracious and merciful.  And who knows whether God will not turn and relent, and leave a blessing behind?  Amen.

[i] David Lose, “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, vol. 2 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2008), 3.

[ii] Lose, 5.

[iii] Dianne Bergant, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. B, vol. 2 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2008), 5.

[iv] Lose, 5.

In the midst of life…

19 Wednesday Nov 2014

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Maybe it is because today is my birthday or maybe it is because we just lost a dear family member to cancer, but life and death have been on my mind a lot lately.  The funny thing about being a priest is that those two things are almost always held in tension.  In the course of one week, I can hold the hand of a dying person and then bless a baby at the communion rail.  I can celebrate a funeral and baptize a child in the course of two days.  I can officiate a wedding and offer counsel to someone getting a divorce in a matter of weeks.  And so, with the death of our family member so fresh in my mind, I took a deep breath on the way to work today and thanked God for this wonderful life that I have been given.  Many days I grumble and complain about the little stuff of life – but today, both life and death are giving me perspective.

The same has been true about my work lately.  This past weekend, The Diocese of Long Island held its Annual Convention.  In the Bishop’s address, he told us about the many churches around the diocese that had closed or merged with other parishes.  Though he ran through the list relatively quickly, I knew all too well how painful each of those closures must have been.  I have been a part of churches that have had to close and it is a brutal process – it feels very much like the death of a loved one.

But just like in the death of a loved one, life slowly springs up.  The Bishop told us about a particular parish in Brooklyn that had to close due to “life-safety issues.”  Located near the Barclays Center, the sale of the property netted almost $20 million for the Diocese – all of which is being invested and distributed.  Some of the proceeds will go to support local churches and ministries while others will be used for international missions.  But out of that death is coming tremendous life.  Though we mourn with that community, through the death of that stage of their ministry they are birthing incredible new life.

And such is life – a continual cycle of life and death, suffering and blessing, mourning and celebrating.  Today, I turn toward celebration and life.  I can do that with deep joy because the sobering reality of death sets me free to appreciate every blessing of this life.  My cup runneth over – thanks be to God!