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Sermon – Luke 9.28-43, TRS, YC, March 2, 2025

05 Wednesday Mar 2025

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As I spend time with parishioners, staff, clergy leaders, and folks outside the community one common question keeps emerging, “What do we do?”  As we watch divisions deepen – something that seemed impossible given how deeply divided we already were, and as we watch a dismantling of how our country has operated for ages, and as we argue about what is best for our country, I have heard us asking, wondering, struggling with that question, “What do we do?”  The question is mirrored in the story of the transfiguration in Luke’s gospel today too.  Sleepy disciples who are supposed to be praying with Jesus on top of a mountain are jolted into alertness upon seeing Jesus in dazzling brightness, talking with long-gone Moses and Elijah, saying something about Jesus departing.  John and James are stunned into silence, but Peter answers his own question of “What do we do?” by proposing they build some dwellings – for surely remaining here in God’s glory is what he thought they should do.

Though we tease Peter about his not fully “getting it” when we wonder what we should do, I find myself mimicking Peter these days.  When I am asked, “What do we do?” my immediate and probably over-simplified answer is “follow Jesus” – not follow Republicans or follow Democrats; not follow supporters or follow opposers; not follow these Christians or follow those Christians.  Simply follow Jesus.  The problem with my answer of following Jesus is that the answer is so simple the answer leaves us with more questions than actual answers. 

That is why I am so grateful for Luke’s gospel today.  What this passage from Luke’s gospel does is tell us that following Jesus means, One, “…we must be clear about our identity;” two, be “resolute in our mission;” and three, be “intentional in our spiritual formation.”[i]  So, clear on our identity, focused on mission, and intentional about our spiritual formation.  Let’s dig in to this passage to find more clarity.

To follow Jesus, we need to be clear about our identity.  As scholar Jeffery Tribble argues, in Luke’s gospel, “The transfiguration bears witness to the identity of Jesus Christ.  By God’s action in the transformation itself and in the words of the voice of heaven, a theological statement is made.  Jesus Christ is declared to be the Chosen Son of God.  The disciples heard the declaration:  ‘Listen to him!’  The Christ event – his incarnation, passion, death, resurrection, ascension, gift of the Holy Spirit, and promised second coming – is the defining script for our local performances of the gospel.”[ii]

So what does that mean?  What is our identity here at Hickory Neck?  We define that identity using the acronym HNEC.  H stands for Hospitality:  We are committed to creating an environment where all experience an on-going sense of welcome, acceptance, and belonging.  Our hospitality is responsive to the unique needs of each generation, creating a community of mutuality, respect, dignity, and connection.  N stands for Nurture:  We are committed to nurturing the unique ministry of every individual so they can fully realize their baptismal covenant and participate in the life of the church, using their God-given gifts both within and outside the parish.  E stands for Engagement and Evangelism:  We are committed to responding to the needs of the wider community, sharing the love of Christ with our neighbors, and shining Christ’s light in the world.  And C stands for Curiosity:  While cherishing our particular history and Anglican identity, we are committed to being open to the movement of the Holy Spirit, being playful with one another and the wider community, while taking joy in one another.  So, our identity is about hospitality, nurture, engagement, and curiosity. 

So, being clear first about our identity, we must secondly be resolute in mission.  The transfiguration reveals the redemptive mission of Jesus Christ.  With Moses’ presence pointing to the exodus event and the communal responsibly to teach the statutes and ordinances, and with Elijah’s presence pointing to the end times, Jesus’ work of continued redemption is clear.  As Tribble says that “…in the transfiguration event Jesus is clear about his mission, which continues the redemptive work of God from the exodus through the end times.”[iii]

What about us, then?  Hickory Neck actually has a mission statement.  The mission statement reads, “We foster a loving, welcoming Christian Community with a uniquely intergenerational approach to worship, fellowship, and formation, helping us to develop a relationship with God and each other.  Nourished in community, we share the love of Christ Jesus by caring for each other, serving neighbors in need, and seeking justice and peace for all people.”  If I had to “make it plain,” I would use these eight words, “Love inside these walls, love outside these walls.”  When we are puzzling our way through what we should be doing in these profound times, our mission is simple:  love inside these walls and love outside these walls.  Now I know that sounds very pie in the sky – I have been known to roll my eyes a few times when someone says, “It’s all about love!”  But here’s the thing:  no matter what political or theological view you have, I can guarantee you that someone in this room disagrees with you.  How will you love them?  And when you are out in the world, all kinds of policies and moves are being made that may feel like they do not matter because they do not impact you directly – at least not yet.  How will you make sure that you and we as wider community are making sure love reigns?  There is a lot happening outside these walls that are done in the name of the redemptive Christ.  Your work is to discern which of those activities are actually following the identity and mission of the Jesus we are talking about this very day.

And that leads us to the third thing we invited to do to follow Jesus:  to be intentional in our spiritual formation.  I don’t know if you noticed, but Jesus took James, John, and Peter up that mountain not to heal, or to work, or even to witness the transfiguration.  Jesus brought them up to pray.  Whether in this passage or in the many verses to come, we know from holy scripture that “throughout his ministry Jesus was faithful in spiritual disciplines that would bring him into the presence of his Father.”[iv]

Tribble reminds us that “Professing faith in Christ in one thing, but living our Christian faith requires greater depth and breadth in our spiritual formation.”[v]  If we are in fact a congregation that doesn’t preach politics but instead preaches Jesus, then our work collectively is to know Jesus.  That means if you are not already in Bible Study, or reading scripture at home, or listening to a podcast about scripture, now is the time to dust off that book (or app) and get going.  That means if you are not one who is too comfortable with prayer, or only use prayer when you have an emergency, now is the time to start flexing your prayer muscles – whether you work your way through the Book of Common Prayer, whether you set aside daily time for prayer, or whether you start using those prayer beads, now is the time to step away with Jesus in prayer.  I remember reading about a conversation between His Holiness the Dalai Lama and Archbishop Desmond Tutu in which the two of them were competing about who got up the earliest for prayer.  Both of these deeply spiritual men knew that the only way they could do any good work was to deepen their spiritual formation.

The good news is that we are heading into a season in the church where all of this work is enriched, supported, and encouraged.  In the season of Lent, we are encouraged to be intentional about our spiritual formation.  In Lent we work to become very clear about our identity.  In Lent we become resolute in our mission.  If you are feeling that overwhelming sense of “What do I do?” in these times, the Church invites you to follow Jesus.  The Church invites you to be focused on identity, mission, and formation.  And this Church specifically creates the structure for you to do just that.  Your invitation is to join us!  Amen.

[i] Jeffery L. Tribble, Sr., “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 1 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 452.

[ii] Tribble, 452.

[iii] Tribble, 454.

[iv] Tribble, 454.

[v] Tribble, 456.

Sermon – Isaiah 43.1-7, Luke 3.15-17, 21-22, E1, YC, January 12, 2025

12 Wednesday Feb 2025

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Some Sundays, Church is a bit hard.  Every Sunday, even the ones in Lent, are considered resurrection celebrations – days where we take a break from all that weighs on us and we celebrate the gift of a Savior.  But some Sundays turning our hearts to joy is difficult.  We may be mourning a loss, or watching a crisis like the fires near Los Angeles this week.  We may be struggling with anger or fear, or worried about an estranged child, or precarious relationship, or how we are going to make ends meet.  And yet, Sunday after Sunday, the Church says, “Rejoice, and again I say, rejoice!” 

That contrast is experienced brilliantly in our Old Testament lesson today.  The reading from Isaiah is the perfect pairing for our gospel lesson where Jesus is baptized, the Holy Spirit descends like a dove, and the voice of God speaks, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”  The echoes of the prophet Isaiah are those words to Jesus.  God says to the people in Isaiah’s time, “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine…you are precious in my sight, and honored, and I love you…I am with you.”  On the surface, these words sound like joy upon joy.  Who would not be thrilled to hear such affirmation and respond with songs of praise and jubilation?

But here is what you might not realize about chapter 43 of Isaiah.  At this point, the people of God are in exile in Babylon.  God is not speaking to0 the generation of people who were driven out of the land of promise into Babylon.  These words are spoken to the children and even grandchildren of those first exiles – some of whom were born in exile and only know the land of promise by legend.[i]  These words sound lovely, but must have been hard to hear.  The exiles may have even asked, “If God is with us…how did we end up in Babylon?”[ii]  God is speaking to a people who have likely lost hope or lost belief that God is even with them anymore.  Because if God is with us, how can suffering be? 

Today we will baptize two young boys – one, August, who is too young and innocent for such questions yet, and the other, Jonathan, who is just old enough to start asking the big questions:  who is God?  What is baptism?  If you are a priest, can you bless the water I drink too?  On a Sunday when we might be struggling to bring the joy with the world burning and freezing around us, a baptism might be just what we need.  Baptism is all about identity making – baptism is the moment we are acknowledged as full members of the body of Christ – as children of God.  Baptism is the day the church says, “You belong to God.” 

And so, when God says through Isaiah, “I have called you by name, you are mine…you are precious in my sight, and honored, and I love you…I am with you,” God means you.  Even the pronoun used in the text is the second-person-singular – as if God is speaking to each member of the community.[iii]  So you, Bob and Betty, are precious in God’s sight.  You, Nancy and David, are called by name and are God’s.  God loves you, Jonathan and August.  As one scholar writes, “Our sense of belonging comes not from the acceptance of our peers or the status of our communities but from the One who claims us and will never let us go.  What makes us worthy is not our individual achievements or the size of our congregational budgets, but God’s gracious love.”[iv]

In the ancient church, baptism looked a little different than it does today.  They did not have beautifully carved and crafted fonts with small amounts of water poured over heads or sprinkled among people.  The early Church had a deep, cruciform shaped pools with stairs on either end of the cross length.  So the candidate would walk down into the water at one end, totally submerge under the waters, and then emerge on the other end.  The symbolism was that your old self died in the waters of baptism, and you were born into the life of Christ, emerging from the womb’s water a new person.

We may not submerge Jonathan and August, but we do understand them as born anew today.  And in fact, each of us here today are born anew too as we reaffirm what happened in that new birth for us.  That’s how we tangibly grasp onto the hope and celebration of a resurrection Sunday – even in the midst of fire and freeze.  We grasp onto hope as the Church reminds us who we are and how we will be.  We promise today to “continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of the bread, and in the prayers.”  We promise to “repent and return to the Lord, to proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ.”  We promise to “seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as ourselves and to strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being.”  Whether we brought joy with us today, or we are in need of joy, the Church promises that if we keep trying to live into those baptismal promises, live into that identity of beloved children of God, we will find our way into believing and feeling the truth of those words from God.  “I have called you by name, you are mine…you are precious in my sight, and honored, and I love you…I am with you.”  Amen.     

[i] Julia M. O’Brien, “Commentary on Isaiah 43:1-7,” January 12, 2025, as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/baptism-of-our-lord-3/commentary-on-isaiah-431-7-6 on January 10, 2025.

[ii] Valerie Bridgeman Davis, “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 1 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 221.

[iii] Kathleen M. O’Connor, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 1 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 219.

[iv] W. Carter Lester, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 1 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 222.

Sermon – Luke 2.8-20, Blue Christmas, December 21, 2024

12 Wednesday Feb 2025

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Christmas is a funny thing.  Christmas is simultaneously soft and loud, comforting and unsettling, hopeful and demoralizing.  Some of that paradox comes from the Christmas story itself, but some of that paradox comes from our hopes and memories of Christmas verses our lived experience of Christmas.  I remember all the loveliness of Christmases past:  of familiar foods shared, of gifts exchanged, of the aunts and uncles verses cousins football games in our grandparents’ yard.  But as I aged, the veneer wore off:  aunts and uncles divorced, hurtful things were said and done, and older generations began sharing the “behind the scenes” version of our Christmases that I never knew – and wished I didn’t know now.  And, slowly, I began reshaping what Christmas meant for the next generation – with a sense of certainty about what I wanted them to experience and a sense of anxiety that they might someday lose the magic of a once special time. 

We hold this Blue Christmas service every year because somewhere in the midst of shopping, caroling, worshiping, and partying, our world – both the secular one, with Hallmark movies and glossy advertisements, and sometimes even our sacred one, with familiar carols and perfect pageants – our world offers us dissonance.  In the merry making, there is little room for the parts of us that are not merry – whether those parts are due to lingering Christmas grievances, visitations from the grief fairy when we least expect her, economic pressures and worldly anxieties, the open wounds from the brokenness of our country from a nasty political year, or relationships that are broken or are limping along.  The world and even the Church rarely makes space for our inability to fully embrace the merriness of Christmas. 

As I pondered this disconnect this year, I stumbled on a reading from Gertrud Mueller Nelson.  Nelson describes about this time of year – of this season of shortened days and lessened light, “Pre-Christian peoples who lived far north,” she writes, “and who suffered the archetypal loss of life and light with the disappearance of the sun, had a way of wooing back life and hope.  Primitive peoples do not separate the natural phenomena from their religious or mystical yearning, so nature and mystery remained combined.  As the days grew shorter and colder, and the sun threatened to abandon the earth, these ancient people suffered the sort of guilt and separation anxiety, which we also know.  Their solution was to bring all ordinary action and daily routine to a halt.  They gave in to the nature of winter, came away from their fields and put away their tools.  They removed the wheels from their carts and wagons, festooned them with greens and lights, and brought them indoors to hang in their halls.  They brought the wheels indoors as a sign of a different time, a time to stop and turn inward.  They engaged the feelings of cold and fear and loss.  Slowly, slowly, they wooed the sun-god back.  And light followed darkness.  Morning came earlier.  The festivals announced the return of hope after primal darkness.

This kind of success – hauling the very sun back:  the recovery of hope – can only be accomplished when we have the courage to stop and wait and engage fully in the winter of our dark longing.”  Nelson goes on to say, “Perhaps the symbolic energy of those wheels made sacred has escaped us and we wish to relegate our Advent wreaths to the realm of quaint custom or pretty decoration.  Symbolism, however, has the power to put us directly in touch with a force or idea by means of an image or an object – a “thing” can do that for us.  The symbolic action bridges the gulf between knowing and believing.  It integrates mind and heart.  As we go about the process of clipping our greens and winding them on a hoop, we use our hands, we smell the pungent smell that fills the room, we think about our action.  Our imagination is stirred.

Imagine what would happen,” Nelson adds, “if we were to understand that ancient prescription for this season literally and remove – just one – say the right front tire from our automobiles and use this for our Advent wreath.  Indeed, things would stop.  Our daily routines would come to a halt and we would have the leisure to incubate.  We could attend to our precarious pregnancy and look after ourselves.  Having to stay put, we would lose the opportunity to escape or deny our feelings or becomings because our cars could not bring us away to the circus in town.[i]”

In some small way, that is what tonight does.  Tonight, we take the wheel off our cars, and place the wheel in the wreath right here in this little chapel.  We take away our ability to bustle about, and we sit.  We sit in the dark, we sit in our discomfort, and we sit in our un-merriness.  We take time, listening to a story about some shepherds who were similarly uncomfortable in the dark of night, dirty among their sheep, in the fields – doing their daily, maybe sometimes demoralizing, work of shepherding.  We pray, we mark our specific sense of loss or pain with the lighting of candles, and we bless our lack of merriment – we receive permission to tarry for a while in the darkness.  We do that all because we know that after today, the light will start to come a little earlier, will start to last a little longer, and will start to kindle hope in us.  We may not yet be ready to leave this place, glorifying and praising God like those shepherds.  But we are able to receive the gift of this sacred inside time, knowing that light is coming – that days are coming when we, too, will remember joy, and life, and praise.  We tarry here because this is where we also find hope.  That is the Church’s gift to you tonight – space and a tiny little sliver of hope.  Come, gather by the wheel, and tarry a bit longer.  Amen.

[i] Gertrud Mueller Nelson, To Dance With God: Family Ritual and Community Celebration (Mahwah, NJ:  Paulist Press, 1986), 63, as quoted in An Advent Sourcebook, Thomas J. O’Gorman, ed. (Chicago:  Liturgy Training Publications, 1988), 141-142.

Sermon – 1 Kings 17.8-16, P27, YB, November 10, 2024

13 Wednesday Nov 2024

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On this Consecration Sunday, the day we offer and celebrate our gifts to support the ministry of this beloved community, the lectionary seemingly delivers the perfect text – the widow’s mite.  One might guess the lectionary shapers designed the lectionary just for a day like today – so that the sermon might be a nice a tidy story about how you too might give sacrificially.  But that story – and that sermon – are not our gift today.  After the tumultuous election week we have had, our gift lies with another widow – the widow of Zarephath from the first book of Kings. 

The widow of Zarephath is both a woman and widow, and as you know by now, that makes her doubly vulnerable in Elijah’s day.  In fact, although our translation says she is a widow, the original Hebrew actually adds, “…the word ‘woman’ in apposition before ‘widow.’  Verse 9 could literally be translated as, “Rise and go to Zarephath, which belongs to Sidon, and dwell there.  Look, I have commanded a woman, a widow, to sustain you.”[i]   The widow is also the mother of a child who is dependent upon her, so she has needs beyond her own.  If we read a bit further in Kings, we learn she is not normally poor – even as a widow, she owns a home that is large enough for an upper chamber.[ii]  And, we know she lives in Sidon, which means she is a foreigner, and that she likely worships Baal.

But to fully understand this widow we have step back even further.  The reason Elijah wanders into Sidon needing food is because he is fleeing Queen Jezebel, another Sidonian woman who has convinced King Ahab to build temples to Baal, and who threatens to kill Elijah.  So, we already see two different treatments of Elijah by two different Sidonian women.[iii]  But the other big piece of information is there is a drought in the land – and the lack of water means a threat to life – in fact, any poverty the widow of Zarephath faces is because the drought has dried up the food supply.  But drought also has theological significance in this story.  “…the condition of drought is the result of the Israelite King Ahab’s disobedience.”[iv]  As Old Testament Scholar Ellen Davis explains, “Overall, from a biblical perspective, the sustained fertility and habitability of the earth, or more particularly of the land of Israel, is the best index of the health of the covenant relationship.”[v]  In other words, if there is a drought, the people of God have really messed up!

Now sometimes stories from the Bible feel so foreign, that even with context like we just learned, we do not really feel like we can relate.  But if we really think about the widow of Zarephath and her context today, we find much more relatability than we might like to admit.  We certainly know the reality of people of means suffering financially.  In fact, a recent story from Forbes said that over 75% of Americans are living paycheck to paycheck.[vi]  That’s a lot of folks eking out a living with last bits of grain and oil.  We also know something about fighting about authority and ultimate values – where we put our trust.  I would say the dramatically different reactions to the election this week are a classic example – from people who are relieved by the election results to people who feel so marginalized they do not feel like they can even stay in relationship with their neighbors.  Our church too is living donation to donation – with the annual threat of budget deficits – and is now facing the reality of what being a politically diverse community means – how we will not just respect differences but how we will actively serve Christ as one.  I think we are all too familiar with what being in a theological drought is all about.

So, what happens to this woman widow in Zarephath?  As she faces the ludicrous request of Elijah to feed him when she is literally about to feed her son and herself their last meal before they die of starvation, Elijah says, “Do not be afraid.”  I confess, when I first read those four words this week, “Do not be afraid,” I was pretty upset.  That’s God’s answer to this theological drought we are in?  This hurting, deeply divided, seemingly irreparable place?  Do not be afraid?!?  Now, the good news is I stayed in the text.  As I kept studying, I stumbled on a commentary in which Professor Robert Wall said, “‘Do not be afraid,’ is not meant to comfort one facing death but rather to inspire confidence that [Elijah’s] God keeps promises of salvation made.”[vii]  Elijah’s God keeps promises of salvation made.  And as if to support the good professor’s insight, Elijah goes on to say in the text, “For thus says the LORD the God of Israel:  The jar of meal will not be emptied and the jug of oil will not fail until the day that the LORD sends rain on the earth.”[viii]  God never says the jar will be overflowing or we will have so much we will need a second jug.  But God does say we will have enough.

Those words from Elijah, those words that often introduce an oracle of salvation[ix], are words for us too.  Do not be afraid.  I know those four words may feel impossible for some of us today.  Many of you have already told me about your literal fears:  either your fears about the economy before the election or your fears for your rights and dignity after the election.  But those four words are our promise today – that God keeps promises of salvation made.  Like Elijah promises the widow, so God promises to you today that your jar of meal will not be emptied and your jug of oil will not fail until the day that the LORD sends rain on the earth.  So, even in our fears, we make promises to the church about what time, talent, and treasure we can share to ensure our ministries remain vibrant and thriving.  In our fears, we keep coming to church and engaging with neighbors who differ from us more meaningfully than we did before.  In our fears, we trust in our God, no matter what civic leaders are in place.  Because our jar will not be emptied and our jug will not fail, we can trust that we will have enough – enough for ourself, enough for our neighbor, and enough for the church.  We can say yes, just like the widow of Zarephath on the verge of death.  We can say yes.  Do not be afraid.  Amen.

[i] David G. Garber, Jr, “Commentary on 1 Kings 17:8-16,” Working Preacher, November 10, 2024, as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-32-2/commentary-on-1-kings-178-16-9 on November 8, 2024.

[ii] Denise Dombkowski Hopkins, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word Supplemental Essays, Year B, Batch 4 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2012), 6.

[iii] Hopkins, 4.

[iv] Garber.

[v] Ellen F. Davis, Scripture, Culture, and Agriculture: An Agrarian Reading of the Bible (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2009), 8, as quoted by Garber.

[vi] Emily Batdorf , “Living Paycheck To Paycheck Statistics 2024,” Forbes Advisor, April 2, 2024 as found at https://www.forbes.com/advisor/banking/living-paycheck-to-paycheck-statistics-2024/?fbclid=IwY2xjawGcVSVleHRuA2FlbQIxMAABHSkGQLYo1Mye_ETSWURRZckm0B5EKB226F-g1znt-H6_s6kt5j5eFvxjvw_aem_OKcSGHZduH78GmIJSrYAZw on November 8, 2024.

[vii] Robert W. Wall, “Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word Supplemental Essays, Year B, Batch 4 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2012), 3.

[viii] 1 Kings 17.14.

[ix] Ronald J. Allen, “Considering the Text: Week Six, Twenty-Fifth Sunday After Pentecost, 10 November 2024”  Center for Faith and Giving, as found at centerforfaithandgiving.org, 41.

Sermon – Proverbs 22.1-2, 8-9, 22-23, P18, YB, September 8, 2024

11 Wednesday Sep 2024

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Many of us grew up with parents or grandparents who were always trying to instill wisdom.  “A penny saved is a penny earned.”  Or, “The early bird gets the worm.” Or one that overlaps with faith, “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.”  I think the hope has been to create mantras that will remind us to be good human beings.  In a lot of ways, that is what we do in baptism.  Certainly, the main purpose of baptism is to welcome people into the community of faith.  But every baptism is also an educational moment – an identity-making moment.  The liturgy of baptism (and especially the renewal of our baptismal covenant which we will do later today) is chock full of wisdom about how to live faithfully as a Christian:  continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of the bread, and in the prayers;  resist evil, and, whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord; proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ; seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself; and strive for justice and peace among all people, respecting the dignity of every human being.  The baptismal covenant may not be as catchy or memorable as those phrases your grandparent used, but they do the same thing:  teach us something about being people of faith.

That is what our lesson from Proverbs is doing today too.  Truthfully, many of those proverbial sayings we learned from our elders come from scripture or even the book of Proverbs directly.[i]  Today’s lesson from Proverbs is all about wealth.  Now I know what you are thinking, we just baptized a little baby – why in the world do we need to talk to them about money?  Besides, isn’t that a little uncouth?  Much as we polite southerners might not like to admit it, Holy Scripture always has a lot to say about money.  For Jesus, money was the topic he talked about the most in Scripture.  But Jesus comes from a long line of people and scriptures that talk about wealth.  He was probably shaped just like we were by elders trying to give us wisdom.  But before you get too squeamish, just remember that talking about wealth is not just a concern about personal behavior or morality.  In the instance of our lesson from Proverbs, talking about wealth helps us understand how to live in community – how to be a people of faith together.[ii]

Let’s take a deeper dive with these verses today (feel free to go back to your bulletin as we read along).  The first verse talks about how a good name is much more valuable than great riches.  Now that does not mean we need to literally pick good names for our children – although Nathan, who was baptized earlier, is a beautiful name (quite biblical, actually!).  But what the original Hebrew means by “good name” is “good reputation.”[iii]  In other words, people need to know that you are a decent human being more than they need to know you have high levels of wealth.  In the second verse, the proverb goes even deeper, suggesting that whether we are rich or poor (or somewhere in between) we are all equally loved by God.  We are all beloved children of God.  Now if our equally beloved status is true, and how we treat others matters most, then our main job in life is to care for one another.  If we happen to be wealthy, we are encouraged to share our wealth.  As a community, we share our resources to support the work of ministry – verses eight and nine as well as 22 and 23 tell us how important our care for one another is.  That right prioritizing with wealth and community puts us in right relationship with God.  And Lord knows, Nathan, or any newly baptized, is going to need to navigate that reality in their lifetimes. 

That is what baptism does.  Baptism helps us remember first and foremost what we want to teach the newly baptized.  Whether the baptized is an adult or an infant we will communally raise, we want people like Nathan to know what being a person of faith is, and how that identity impacts the whole of our lives – from our weekly gathering in worship, to our caring for the poor, to the ways we steward our own resources. 

Secondly, baptism reminds us as a community what we need to remember.  Just because we were baptized once, or have reaffirmed our baptisms multiple times, that does not mean we have mastered faithful discipleship.  Even in our baptismal covenant, we do not say, “if we fall into sin,” we say, “whenever we fall into sin.”  Being a person of faith means working at being faithful over and over again – always with the help of fellow people on the journey, but certainly the work is ongoing.

That is why today, in addition to celebrating our baptism, we are also turning our hearts again to the topic of stewardship.  As we kickoff another program year, we are reminded that generosity is at the heart of faithful living.  Verse nine that we read today says, “Those who are generous are blessed, for they share their bread with the poor.”  Generosity, as one scholar explains, is “here imagined as sharing bread with the poor; that is, sharing those things that are necessary for a safe life.  In the ancient context, ‘sharing bread’ is not just dropping money in a cup, but is an expression of solidarity.  Those who share what they need for life (bread) find that they will have what they need for life.”[iv]   Our invitation today, as water is sprinkled on all our heads, is to consider how we might embrace a generous life – how we might, recognizing our blessedness, share our bread with others.  For when we live generously, we find we have all that we need for life.  Amen.

[i] Susan T. Henry-Crowe, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Year B, Vol. 4 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 26.

[ii] Stephen C. Johnson, “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Year B, Vol. 4 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 27.

[iii] Megan Fullerton Strollo, “Commentary on Proverbs 22:1-2, 8-9, 22-23,” September 8, 2024, as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-23-2/commentary-on-proverbs-221-2-8-9-22-23-6 on September 4, 2024.

[iv] Ronald J. Allen, “Considering the Text:  Week 4, Sixteenth Sunday after Pentecost, 8 September 2024” Center for Faith and Giving, as found at centerforfaithandgiving.org, 27.

On Baptisms, Community, and Belonging…

04 Wednesday Sep 2024

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Photo credit: https://www.sacredheartcalgary.ca/sacraments/baptism-2/baptism/

One of the challenges of a church with multiple service times is the inevitable formation of multiple smaller communities within a larger community.  Between different attendees and different worship styles, each service begins to take on its own personality.  I have had families with young children show up at our early service, and had to be sure to let them know that the later service might be much more familiar and comfortable than the meditative feel of the early service.  Or I have had folks who grew up in an Anglo-Catholic tradition show up at our later service, and had to be sure to let them know they might find the more formal liturgy of the early service more heart-warming.  The trick is figuring out how to create a sense of “home” in each worship service while also providing opportunities for cross-pollination across services.

I think that is why I am so excited for a baptism at my church this weekend at the early service.  We almost never have children at that service (I know very few parents of littles who can get their families at church by 8:00 am), and we do not have music (for those littles to join in the joyful noise making), and the pews in the historic chapel are way less accommodating than the movable chairs in our newer chapel.  But the mother of the baptized grew up in that space and wants her child to experience the centuries of prayer found there.  And although there may not be other children there, she will tell her son of the days when she used to sit in the window wells or babies crawled under the pews.  And when she sees parishioners the age of her son’s grandparents in worship, she will be able to tell her son about the fellowship of saints, and maybe even let parishioners take a turn rocking her son if he becomes fussy.

That is the true beauty of the kind of community church creates.  No matter which service you choose, there is a child whose grandparent may live far away, a grandparent who hasn’t seen his children in months or a year, and a parent who just needs a place who gets how hard parenting is.  And those three groups come together as a fluid organism, with all their everyday human stuff, laying their troubles before God, praising God for their blessings – even when it is sometimes hard to see them, and breaking bread together, recognizing the beauty of a diverse room of people reflecting the image of God. 

That is what this Sunday’s baptism is all about:  bringing another human being into to the strange, mysterious, beauty of Church; helping him know that he is a child of God and is marked as Christ’s own forever; teaching him that he will now belong to a community that will both love him unconditionally and challenge him to live into his vocation and calling – whatever it may be.  We baptize that little one to tell him all that.  But we also baptize that little one to remind ourselves of that reality:  to remember how we too are beloved children of God with a commission to love and serve the Lord in the world.  No matter what service you choose, we all need that message.   

Sermon – Mark 7.1-8, 14-15, 21-23, P17, YB, September 1, 2024

04 Wednesday Sep 2024

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Before I became a priest, I served as a Director of Volunteer services at a Habitat for Humanity affiliate.  In my training as a volunteer manager, I learned that one of the most important things about recruiting someone to a volunteer position was clarity about what one was asking from a volunteer.  If they were going to serve on a committee, how long was the commitment, how frequently would they meet, what work would be expected, and how was leadership structured were all details they should have.  If they were going to work on site, what training was expected or would be provided, what age restrictions existed, what risks would they undertake, and how their day would be structured were important details before a workday.  If they had a group event, they needed to know how many volunteers could be on site, what hours they needed to commit to, and what happened in inclement weather.  By the end of my tenure, every volunteer position had a position description outlining expectations, qualifications, and rewards.

So, imagine my transition to the priesthood and realizing how poorly the Episcopal Church had defined membership.  The very first time someone asked me (and every time since then), I dread the question, “So what do I need to do to become a member of this church?”  The Episcopal Church does a notoriously poor job of defining membership.  Our commitment to professing “All are welcome!” seems to translate into no defining characteristics of membership.  “How do I join your church?” should be one of the easiest questions there is.  And yet, when I talk to new members, the answer has to be two-fold:  the technical answer (as long as you attend three services a year and are a financial contributor, you’re considered a member – the answer from the wider Episcopal Church which I loathe!), and the more practical answer we have crafted here at Hickory Neck:  you fill out a form, you commit to supporting the church financially, you commit to feeding yourself (through study, prayer, regular worship), and you commit to feeding others (through giving your time to the church and to the wider community on behalf of the church). 

Our gospel lesson today seems to be wading through a similar lack of clarity.  The Pharisees and scribes are totally perplexed by how some of Jesus’ disciples are not washing their hands before eating – a totally valid concern in these days of post-pandemic!  But handwashing was not just about hygiene.  The ritual washing of hands was about identity, or “membership” as we understand membership today.  The Jews of this time are in an “oppressed minority, living in an occupied land.”  Their question is asked with the backdrop of colonialism, cultural and religious diversity, and competing claims on identity.[i]    Their question is both simple and complex:  why aren’t the disciples living like members of our community? 

For many a reader of this text, all sorts of erroneous conclusions have been drawn – primarily the anti-Semitic understanding that the laws of the Jews are superseded by laws of Jesus.[ii]  But that is not what is happening in this text.  Jesus does not have any issue with ritual cleansing:  he of all people understands the expectations of following God.  But Jesus is saying something more nuanced about identity and membership.  Jesus is saying that no matter how we traditionally mark ourselves as “other,” even if something is “the way we’ve always done it,” what is more important is how we live our faith.  So, if we are doing all the right things:  washing our hands the right way, bowing or genuflecting at all the right times, crossing ourselves when we’re supposed to, saying “Amen” during the sermon – or avoiding saying “Amen” during the sermon – none of that matters if our insides are defiled.  As Jesus quotes from Isaiah, “This people honors me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me…”[iii] 

Today’s invitation is to ponder what membership in this body of faith means.  Are we honoring Jesus with our lips, but our hearts are far from Jesus?  Are we following the external “rules” but fostering evil intentions in our heart?  Have we filled out the membership form but neglected our work of feeding ourselves and feeding others?  Our work this week is making sure that when we go out into the world to love and serve the Lord – the dismissal that the we agree to every week – that we love and serve the Lord in ways that show people Christ through our words and actions; that as the political season ramps up, we ensure we are not defiling the dignity of any human being with our lips; and that when we talk about how much we love this church on the hill, we do so in a way that does not mask our individual struggles with avarice, deceit, slander, pride, and folly.  Telling the world you are a proud member of Hickory Neck Episcopal Church is just fine – and something I hope you do on a regular basis.  But our invitation from scripture today is to be clear with others that, as that old tune says, “He’s still working on me,” is also a part of membership in the body of Christ – perhaps the most appealing one that draws others into a desire for membership too.  Amen. 

[i] Debie Thomas, “True Religion,” August 22, 2021, as found at https://www.journeywithjesus.net/lectionary-essays/current-essay?id=2944 on August 30, 2024.

[ii] Idea suggested by Matt Skinner on the Sermon Brainwave podcast, “#799: 14th Sunday after Pentecost (Ord. 22B) – Aug. 29, 2021,” August 22, 2021, as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/podcasts/799-14th-sunday-after-pentecost-ord-22b-aug-29-2021 on August 28, 2024.

[iii] Mark 7.6b.

Sermon – John 6.35, 41-51, P14, YB, August 11, 2024

28 Wednesday Aug 2024

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One of the components of our leadership training in Vestry is to talk about Maslow’s hierarchy of needs.  If you’re not familiar with his model, Maslow presents a pyramid of needs.  At the bottom are the physiological needs:  food, water, shelter, etc.  The next level of need is safety or security:  this would include health, employment, and social support.  The third level up the pyramid is love and belonging:  this entails friendship, family, intimacy, connection.  The fourth level is self-esteem:  including confidence, achievement, and respect.  And the final level, the tip of that pyramid is self-actualization:  creativity, a sense of purpose and meaning, and acceptance happen here.  The idea is, you cannot work on someone’s sense of purpose or meaning – the top of the pyramid, or even their sense of achievement and confidence without first meeting their basic needs at the base of the pyramid.  The same is true in the church.[i]  If we want to have excellent programming and ministry, where people are successfully naming and living into their vocations, we first have to make sure that we are a church who is in accordance with the canons of the Episcopal Church, that our property is safely maintained, that people feel welcome and cared for, before we think about people feeling proud about their church and helping their church thrive.  For Vestry members, when we are initiating change, we must be sure the hierarchy of needs has been met before we act.

Neal Mitchell tells a story of church who struggled with that sense of pacing with change.  There was a pastor who decided that the piano was not in the ultimate location in the sanctuary, so one week, he just moved it to the other side.  You would have thought he sacrificed a baby on the altar for the blowback he got.  He stirred such a commotion with his unilateral change that he eventually left the church and took another job.  Years and years later, that same pastor came back to the church for an anniversary celebration.  When he walked in the sanctuary, he immediately saw that the piano was in the location he always wanted but the church had refused to allow in his tenure.  After the worship service, he quietly asked the current pastor, “How in the world did you get them to move the piano over to that side of the worship space?!?”  The newer pastor said, “Oh, that.  Yeah, I just moved the piano an inch at a time.  No one even balked with the piano landed in the current position.”[ii] 

In John’s gospel today, Jesus in right in the middle of a lesson about Maslow’s hierarchy of needs.  We are in the third week of what is called the Bread of Life Discourse.  To the casual reader, you may be thinking, “Didn’t we just talk about the bread of life last week?”  And you wouldn’t be wrong.  We are in the middle of talking about the bread of life for five weeks.  But the text may not be as repetitive as the text feels.  You see, Jesus has been walking us through a hierarchy of needs.  First, we had that feeding of the five thousand.  Jesus starts by attending to the people’s immediate need – food.  You can’t share the love of Christ if your belly is growling with hunger.  Next, the conversation goes back to their history – when God provided manna in the wilderness – in other words, when God didn’t just tend today’s hunger, but worked on the need of security – of daily bread.  There God tended to the second level of need.  Today, Jesus is talking not about today’s bread, or even daily bread.  Jesus is talking about the bread of life – the bread that will sustain us for eternity – the feeding of our souls, not just our bodies.  This kind of bread means relationship, intimacy, care, and empowerment.[iii]  

This week, I experienced another week of Vacation Bible School – this time through one of our ecumenical partners in town.  Over the course of two weeks of VBS, one of the common conversations I have had with church members here, there, and with the other Williamsburg Episcopal Churches was a reflection about how although families find their way to church through a program like VBS, the next step of coming to church regularly is more difficult to inspire.  Now there is a lot wrapped up in that pondering, but at the heart of that reflection, particularly by longtime churchgoers is an understanding that they have found something deeply meaningful and lifegiving at church and they want to share that soul sustenance – that bread of life – with folks who do not have that same sustenance. 

I think that is what Jesus is trying to help us see today.  We are certainly called to be a community of food.  Lord knows Jesus did that all the time – feeding masses of people, tending to their health needs, helping lift up the poor.  And, Jesus was also about feeding souls – helping people find relationship, belonging, soul-nourishing, and that sense of purpose in the kingdom.  We consume the bread of life here every week not because the bread tastes all that particularly good or because that bread fills our stomachs (certainly not like Coffee Hour does).  We consume that bread of life because that taste, that lingering feeling of a melting wafer moving down our throats, is a balm of belonging, of purpose, of entrance into the eternal.  We are very good at describing our welcoming community here at Hickory Neck or our awesome children’s formation program or our incredible service to the community.  But what Jesus is inviting us into this week is vulnerable conversations with others about our deep-soul needs that God fills every week in this place.  Those kinds of conversations are tricky while standing at the bus stop with our kids, or while waiting in line at the grocery story, or while running into someone at the gas station.  But those are the conversations that move pianos and move hearts – conversations that name the deep, hidden longing for the eternal that we all have.  Jesus invites us to feed others today, to tend to others’ daily bread, and to share the bread of life:  to share the deepest gift of the Church with a hungry world.  Amen. 

[i] Idea explored by Matt Skinner in Sermon Brainwave Podcast, “#977: Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost (Ord. 19B) – Aug. 11, 2024,” August 4, 2024, as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/podcasts/977-twelfth-sunday-after-pentecost-ord-19b-aug-11-2024 on August 7, 2024.

[ii] Neal O. Michell, How to Hit the Ground Running (New York:  Church Publishing, 2005), 51-58.

[iii] Idea explored by Karoline Lewis in aforementioned podcast.

Sermon – John 6.1-21, P12, YB, July 28, 2024

28 Wednesday Aug 2024

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This spring and summer your Vestry has been reading Mark Elsdon’s book We Aren’t Broke:  Uncovering Hidden Resources for Mission and Ministry.  Elsdon’s primary argument is that churches and faith communities have more resources than they realize and often neglect to utilize those latent resources as alternative sources of revenue and mission.  In his own setting, a campus ministry in the Midwest that no longer had students, they converted the parking lot of their worship space to a high-rise apartment building for students, with designated intentional communities for students.  The rental income from the apartments became a revenue stream that supported both the housing ministry and the worshiping community that emerged.  Whether churches repurpose their existing buildings for coworking space, redesignate green space for affordable housing, or simply rent their land for use by a business like a childcare center, Elsdon’s argument is that churches have an abundance at their fingertips that they rarely recognize or utilize.

As our Vestry has been dreaming about abundance and creative repurposing of resources, I have been seeing a lot of parallels from Elsdon’s vision and today’s gospel lesson.  Because every gospel has a version of the Jesus’ miracle of feeding a mass of people, and because this story is beloved, we sometimes gloss over this story without really hearing the story.  As scholar Karoline Lewis argues, “…a comparison of John and the Synoptic Gospels yields important differences and underscores particular theological themes in the Gospel of John.  The setting has a specific detail unique to John:  that of much grass (6:10).  This description alludes to and foreshadows the presentation of Jesus as the Good Shepherd in chapter 10.  The pasture for the sheep signals provision and abundance of life and this abundance is clearly present in the feeding of the five thousand.”[i]  In a place where there is abundant space, where an enormously abundant amount of people gets to eat until they are full, and there is an abundance of leftovers – twelve whole baskets to be exact – Jesus gives us insight into the abundant life that is found in him. 

But abundant thinking is not how most of us are hardwired.  As one pastor describes, “Much of the time our faith mirrors that of Philip and Andrew, who could not see past the six months’ wages or the meager five loaves and two fish.  We tend to base our living on our own scarcity or even on our own fears of insufficiency.  So we hoard and save and worry and end up living life in small and safe measures.  We pull back when we should push forward.  We give in to our fear of a shortfall rather than exercising faith in God’s abundance.  But Christians are constantly on call to go places where we have never been, to do things that we have never attempted, and to be things we have never envisioned.”[ii]

For those of you who have been around the Episcopal Church very long, you may know that we have something called “the reserve sacrament” – a fancy phrase for leftover communion.  When we celebrate the Great Thanksgiving, if any wine or bread is leftover, we set the elements aside in a safe place – in the New Chapel, we use the aumbry.  We then use the reserve sacrament the next week, or when your clergy take communion out to our homebound members.  But the holy meal we consume each week rarely needs that reserve.  I remember distinctly being asked once to come and deliver communion to a dying parishioner.  I came with a few reserve wafers in my kit and my flask of reserve wine.  But when I arrived, there were probably ten to twelve people in the room.  And although I expected some of them to say, “Oh, no thanks – no communion for me,” they all wanted to consume.  And so, I found myself making tiny wafers even tinier so that everyone might share the sacred meal with their grandma one last time.

Now, I am not suggesting Jesus gave super tiny bites to everyone on that huge area of “much grass.”  In fact, John’s gospel says they don’t just get what they need, they get as much bread and fish as they want – and there are still leftovers!  What I am saying is, Jesus is inviting us today to see with eyes of abundance.  To look at a room full of grieving people and figure out a way to make much bread out of little.  To talk to a business owner who serves our community and see what creative ways we can use our blessings to bless others.  To know that there is a shortage of housing for the workforce in our community and imagine if some of our property might be the solution.  I have been to enough potluck dinners at churches in my lifetime that we almost never finish every morsel of food – in fact, usually we are all taking at least a portion or two home of what we brought.  Jesus is inviting us into being a potluck community:  to see the abundance all around us, to remember where that abundance comes from, and to live and love abundantly in ministry without fear of scarcity.  As one scholar says, Jesus “…gives bread because he is Bread.  He makes possible the gathering of the body so that we might become his body, the church.”[iii]  Our invitation is to honor his generous, abundant legacy in the way we live, move, and have our being – as His Church in the world.  Amen.

[i] Karoline Lewis, John: Fortress Biblical Preaching Commentaries (Minneapolis:  Fortress Press, 2014), 83.

[ii] Charles Hoffman, “More than Enough,” Christian Century, July 25, 2006, vol. 123, no. 15, 18.

[iii] Debie Thomas, “The Miracle of Gathering,” July 18, 2021, as found at https://www.journeywithjesus.net/essays/3081-the-miracle-of-gathering on July 26, 2024.

On Seeking and Seeing Sacred Ground…

29 Wednesday May 2024

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Photo credit: https://medium.com/koinonia/dont-wait-for-a-burning-bush-f8c7435489ae

One of my fitness routines includes attending “barre” – a class that combines yoga, Pilates, and ballet.  When you enter the studio, you remove your shoes and put on special socks to prevent slipping during the class.  You then enter the actual classroom and procure any fitness aides required for the class, such as hand weights, bands, or balls, and proceed to setup up your space at the barre.  I tend to take classes in the 5:30 am hour, so most of the time I am pretty groggy and operating on auto pilot as I prepare my space for class. 

Knowing my routine for class, imagine my surprise the other day when, as I somewhat sleepily entered the classroom, I found myself bowing.  I was immediately shocked and a little embarrassed by my body’s instinctual movement.  As a priest, I bow all the time – as I reverence at the altar, as the processional cross passes me, at certain points in the Creed, or at the name of Jesus in the liturgy.  But I have never reverenced an exercise classroom.

The strange appearance of such an out-of-context movement got me thinking about Holy Scripture.  In Exodus, we hear how Moses receives his call at the site of a burning bush.  When God calls out to Moses amid the flames, God says, “Come no closer!  Remove the sandals from your feet, for the place on which you are standing is holy ground.”[i]  Now I am not sure I would call the barre classroom sacred ground – though the Lord’s name is often called upon, especially during long plank series.  But something about that room made my body respond to its holiness the same way I respond to the holiness of Church.  So how exactly do we define a holy place – or sacred ground?

In the instance of barre class, perhaps what my body was responding to was the way I do find holiness – in the care and compassion of teachers, in the camaraderie of classmates on a shared journey of health and wholeness, in the individual experience at the barre when you feel like you cannot go on and something or someone pulls you through doubt.  Though I think the sacred ground of worship space is unrivaled as a place of encounter with God, the community of Jesus, and the movement of the Spirit, I certainly have found other sacred places – the mountain community where my family gathered every summer with the wider church; the edge of crashing waves, where the vastness of the Creator is palpable; the coffee shop where someone pours out their heart’s burdens to another and blessing is proclaimed.  Perhaps regularly attending Church, with its preserved sacred ground, is what allows us to see and hear God on the sites of sacred ground all around us.  Where are you finding unexpected sacred ground these days?  Where is God inviting you to take off your shoes and give reverence to the mightiness of our God?

[i] Exodus 3.5