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Homily – Acts 20.28-32, Robert Grosseteste, October 9, 2014

23 Thursday Oct 2014

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Today we honor Robert Grosseteste.  Robert was one of the outstanding English bishops from the 13th century.  Though he had humble beginnings in Suffolk, he rose to preeminence in the Church, distinguishing himself as a scholar in all branches of study:  law, medicine, languages, sciences, and theology.  He was appointed master of the Oxford School.  He was a theology professor and translated Aristotle’s works from the Greek, wrote commentaries on them, and sought to refute the philosopher’s views by developing a scientific method based on Augustine’s theories.  Because of Robert, Oxford began to emphasize the study of sciences – and many of his pupils became leaders.  In 1235, Robert was consecrated Bishop of Lincoln.  He was a very hands-on bishop, making a point to tend to the pastoral needs of his clergy and laity.  Those under his care really saw him as the shepherd of the Diocese.

In many ways, I think Bishop Grosseteste took to heart the instructions from Acts today.  “Keep watch over yourselves and over all the flock, of which the Holy Spirit has made you overseers, to shepherd the church of God …” says the lesson.  Robert was the consummate shepherd tending to his flock.  His regular visits to rural deaneries were not only to tend to pastoral needs, but also to questions of doctrine.  He knew, as Acts says, that “savage wolves” would come among his flock, and he tended and protected them as much as he could.

In some ways, we hear about bishops or those called to tend flocks, and we start to tune out.  The work from Acts sounds like the work of the clergy.  What we forget is that through our baptism, we are all given work to do.  We are all tenders of this community.  We take care of each other, we pray for one another, we visit the hurting in our community.  That is the work of the baptized. But Acts also says, “Keep watch over yourselves.”  What we sometimes forget is that we also need to confess when we need pastoral care ourselves; we need to remember that our own formation is ongoing – meaning we need to make sure we are consistently finding ways to grow in our faith.  If we do not care for our own spiritual well-being, we will find it much more difficult to tend to others’ spiritual well-being.

Luckily, as Robert knew and Acts affirms, God and the message of God’s grace is able to build us up.  This is the final reminder from Acts – that God will strengthen us through grace.  We can all be the pastors, the ministers that we become through our baptism – because God and God’ grace enables and continually invites us in to watch over ourselves and all the flock.  Amen.

With these hands…

08 Wednesday Oct 2014

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When I was ordained as a priest, the bishop anointed my hands.  The bishop explained to me that my hands would be used by God for the work of ministry.  At the time, I thought about various ways my hands might be used – for consecrating the Eucharist, for blessing the people, for baptizing the faithful, and for writing sermons and blog posts.  What I had not fully understood was that my hands would become a lifeline of support, care, and love – an extension of Christ’s loving embrace.  Though as an extrovert, I tend to rely on my words for ministry, there would be times when my words could not do the work – only my hands were needed.

The lesson was one that my chaplaincy supervisor had tried to teach me many years before.  I had expressed to my supervisor how I was struggling with some of the non-verbal patients because I felt like I was paralyzed.  By not being able to have a conversation, I felt like I was doing nothing.  In fact, my visits with non-verbal patients tended to be the shortest.  But one particular patient that summer helped me start to break through that fear.  I had been visiting the patient off and on for a couple of weeks, when the nurses asked me to come for another visit.  They were worried that the patient was not far from death.  When I went to the patient’s room, the patient was groggy, but was able to speak a little.  Sooner than I would have liked, the patient’s words were no longer available.  Uncertain what to do next, I offered my hand to the patient.  I was surprised at the force with which the patient grabbed my hand – squeezing so hard that had it been any other situation, I would have pulled away.  But instead, I let the patient cling to my hand with a fierceness of emotion, and we sat there in silence for quite some time.  Somehow, the strength of the grasp filled the room like a shout, and all the words that would have normally bubbled out of my mouth were finally silenced.  Later, after leaving the room, I remember the strange sensation of my hands – as if I were seeing them for the first time.

I was reminded of that powerful lesson earlier this week.  I was pumping while my six-month old was swinging in her swing.  She was fussy, fighting off sleep with wails and writhing.  I had tried soothing her with toys, a pacifier, and coos, but nothing was working.  Finally she reached out her hand toward me, and I grasped it.  I could not pick her up, but I could certainly hold her hand.  As I rubbed the back of her tiny hand, smiling and looking lovingly into her eyes, my daughter slowly calmed down, and managed to give in to sleep.  Though the feel of her hand in mine was totally different from the grasp of an adult, I became keenly aware of my hands once again.  As she drifted off, my thoughts marveled at the many different ways Christ has used my hands over the years.  Both in my vocation as priest and in my vocation as mother, God is constantly using me, literally using my hands, to be a blessing;  and in return, filling me up with joy, renewed vigor, and peace.

When my chaplaincy supervisor warned me that I would not always be able to talk my way through situations, I resisted at first.  I suppose words are my way of trying to exert some sense of control – in essence, my resistance in acknowledging Who is really in control.  Several years later, I am so grateful for the encouragement to embrace that lesson.  As God reminds me over and over Who is in charge within my vocations, I feel relief more than frustration.  The burden of being in control is lifted.  The failings of my words no longer feel like failings.  And I am profoundly grateful for the gift of hands that have been anointed to do God’s work.

Homily – Romans 12.6-13, Julia Chester Emery, January 9, 2014

12 Wednesday Feb 2014

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Today we honor Julia Chester Emery.  Julia was born in 1852 in Massachusetts.  In 1876, around age 24, she became the Secretary of the Woman’s Auxiliary of the Board of Missions in the Episcopal Church.  Julia served in that position for 40 years, helping the Church recognize its call to proclaim the gospel both at home and overseas.  During her tenure, she visited every Diocese and missionary district within the United States.  She traveled around the world, visiting missions in remote areas of China, in Japan, Hong Kong, the Philippines, and Hawaii.  Her hope was to open up new occasions for service and acceptance of new tasks.  Through her leadership, the Woman’s Auxiliary emphasized educational programs, raised awareness of social issues, developed leadership among women, and created the United Thank Offering.  Julia’s faith, courage, spirit of adventure, and ability to inspire others made her a leader respected and valued by the whole Church.

It was on Julia’s feast day four years ago that I was ordained a priest.  At an ordination, it is difficult to not get caught up in the moment.  Years and years of meetings, tests, obligations, and evaluations made me feel like I could finally relax – and enjoy the fact that the entire assembly finally confirmed that this ministry was my call.  I remember feeling like I was finally wearing the right shoes as I stepped into my new role.

The truth is, we all have a pair of ministry shoes.  Our epistle lesson from Romans confirms this idea.  “We have gifts that differ according to the grace given to us” – prophecy, ministry, teaching, exhortation, giving generously, leading, being compassionate.  The epistle reminds us that all of us are given a ministry; our job is to live into that ministry – to wear those shoes God gave us.  And when we put on those shoes, we are to not lag in zeal; we are to be ardent in spirit and serve the Lord.

The question for each of us is to not only make sure we have on the right shoes, but to keep checking that they are on.  Some of us might prefer to slip on something less comfortable, but also less demanding.  But Romans reminds us today that when we sport those unique shoes, we not only impact others, we impact our own experiences with God, too.  So check those feet, do not lag in zeal, be ardent in spirit, and of course, serve the Lord.  Amen.

Sermon – Matthew 4.12-23, E3, YA, January 26, 2014

29 Wednesday Jan 2014

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The first time I sensed a call to ordained ministry was in my last year of college.  The sense of call was strong and I felt like I could hear God’s word to me as clear as a bell.  And so what did I do?  I ran the other way…for a long time.  I remember thinking, “Oh, no.  I can’t do that.  How about I choose how I will serve God?”  And so off I went to my first my position after college.  When that was done, I knew the position was not quite the right fit, so I tried something a little closer to what felt like my call.  And of course, within a year or two, that did not quite feel right either.  And so I began to try to figure out how else God might be calling me.  Around and around I went with this game until finally someone just said straight out, “I think you ought to become an Episcopal priest.”  Even with that direct, irrefutable statement from a live person, I still could not say yes.  I took another whole year in discernment before I was finally ready to say yes to God. 

Needless to say, my response to God’s call was nothing like the response of the disciples in today’s Gospel.  Matthew says that Peter and Andrew immediately left their nets and followed Jesus.  Immediately they left.  The Message translation of this verse says, “They didn’t ask questions, but simply dropped their nets and followed.”  I do not know about you, but the idea of following Jesus immediately, and especially following Jesus without asking any questions seems ludicrous to me.  That act of leaving immediately is equally shocking in Jesus’ day too.  The disciples follow Jesus without qualification or questions.  They leave behind their entire profession, which is quite likely a lucrative business at the time.  All of this without any assurances that they will be provided for or have the ability to improve their financial standing by following Jesus.  Finally, following Jesus immediately means leaving behind families.[i]  This last shocker is perhaps the most unsettling because this is all happening in a time when family connections are “a primary source both of identity and honor,” and at a time when caring for one’s parents is “rooted both in cultural custom and in biblical law.”[ii]  This call narrative is as shocking then as the narrative is shocking now.

In our Adult Forum series last week, we talked about discerning God’s call in our lives.  We opened by reading this text from Isaiah 42, “Here is my servant, whom I uphold, my chosen, in whom my soul delights; I have put my spirit upon him; he will bring forth justice to the nations.  He will not cry or lift up his voice, or make it heard in the street; a bruised reed he will not break, and a dimly burning wick he will not quench; he will faithfully bring forth justice.”[iii]  Our class then reread the Isaiah passage, inserting our names in the passage.  So we heard statements like, “Kurt will bring forth justice to the nations,” or “I have put my spirit upon Barbara.”  We realized two things once we put our own names into the passage.  One, when we hear the words, “called to ministry,” we often think of clergy, missionaries, or people from scripture – not everyday people from Long Island.  Second, many of us do not think of ourselves as being called to a ministry.  We may volunteer at church or help out others, but we rarely use “call” language to describe what we do with our time, especially if our secular work does not feel particularly tied to our sacred beliefs.  But then we read the Catechism in the back of the Prayer Book.  The first persons listed as being ministers of the Church are lay persons, and according to the Catechism, the ministry of the laity, “…is to represent Christ and his Church; to bear witness to him wherever they may be; and, according to the gifts given them, to carry on Christ’s work of reconciliation in the world.”[iv]  So not only were we grappling with the idea of being ministers, we were grappling with the idea that those call stories are not just for someone else – we have a call story too.

Once we come around to the idea that we are all called by God, the big question then becomes, can we imagine responding to God’s call immediately like the disciples do with Jesus today?  Do we hear God’s invitation into ministry or a new vocation and immediately drop our nets, without question or delay?  Perhaps a better place to begin is to look back at Matthew’s text and see exactly what Jesus calls those first disciples to do.  Jesus says to follow him and he will make them fishers of people.  I have always read that invitation and basically translated the invitation as Jesus is going to teach them to be evangelists, converting others to Christ.  But as I read this week, I stumbled across a new interpretation of that phrase.  One scholar suggests that inviting the disciples to be fishers of people is an invitation to be in relationship – with Jesus, with each other, and with all the various people they will meet over the next few years, or perhaps even over the rest of their lives. 

If being fishers of people means being in relationship, what does that actually look like?  Exploring Jesus’ relationship with his disciples gives us some clues.  Being fishers of people means “bearing each other’s burdens, caring for each other and especially the vulnerable, holding onto each other through thick and thin, always with the hope and promise of God’s abundant grace.”[v]  Why would Jesus call people into relationship in this way?  Because by calling ordinary people in the midst of their ordinary lives into relationship with the ordinary people all around them, extraordinary things happen. 

So what does that look like here at St. Margaret’s?  In some ways many of us are already fishers of people.  We care for one another in this community, visit one another especially in crisis or illness.  But we also are in relationship with our neighbors – the staff at the local high school who connects us with those in need; our interfaith brothers and sisters as we make sandwiches together for the hungry; the people we meet, both at local ministries, but even our AHRC neighbors as we grow vegetables together.  And the invitation to be fishers of people keeps finding new manifestations here.  Our Outreach Committee is exploring a relationship with a community in Haiti – one facilitated by our relationship with another local parish here in Nassau County.  Though I know many of us are hesitant about international service, imagine what our dropping our nets without question and following Jesus might look like in that relationship.  Meanwhile, as we consider the possibility of a pilgrimage, we consider the ways that we will forge new relationships – with God, with one another, and certainly with people we have never met before.  Even something as simple as our new sponsorship of a Plainview Little League team this year has the potential for being a place to be fishers of people – where we can meet local parents while taking in a game and rooting for our team. 

These very real invitations into new relationships are scary or perhaps seem frivolous to us now.  But the power of Jesus’ invitation to be fishers of people is transformative.  First, accepting the invitation to be fishers of people transforms us.  When we enter into relationships with others, those interactions change us forever.  They help us see God in new ways, they help us reshape our worldview, and they help us to better understand our calling – that ministry that we all have.  Being fishers of people transforms not just us, but also transforms those with whom we are in relationship.  For many years, the staff at AHRC saw St. Margaret’s as distant, if not even inhospitable neighbors.  But now, the staff knows our names, sees new hope in our relationship, and perhaps even sees the love of Jesus through us.  Finally, being fishers of people transforms not just us and those with whom we are in relationship; being fishers of people transforms the kingdom of God here and now.  Our relationships have an impact way beyond the relationships themselves.  Others see the quality of our relationships and they see something intriguing, something inviting, and something inclusive.  Through those relationships, we invite others in, and the kingdom of earth begins to look a lot more like the kingdom of God.  You may not be able to drop your nets immediately today to follow Jesus.  But if you cannot drop them today, know that Jesus’ invitation to follow him is waiting for you and that God will empower you to say yes when you are ready.  Amen.

[i] Troy A. Miller, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. A., Vol. 1 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 289.

[ii] Judith Jones, “Commentary on Matthew 4.12-23,” as found at http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx? commentary_id=1972 on January 23, 2014.

[iii] Isaiah 42.1-3 

[iv] BCP, 855.

[v] David Lose, “Fishers of People,” as found at http://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=3018 on January 23, 2014.

Sermon – Matthew 11.2-11, A3, YA, December 15, 2013

19 Thursday Dec 2013

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This sermon was only preached at the 8:00 am service, as our Bishop delivered the sermon at our 10:00 am service on Sunday.

Today marks fifty years of ministry by St. Margaret’s in Plainview.  On this day we remember our very rough beginnings at the Plainview American Legion Hall – a place where we often had to clean up empty beer bottles and ash trays before worship.  We remember the many people who have come in and out of lives and the ways in which they have made our ministry and life together richer.  We remember the pastoral leadership of the parish, and the ways in which each priest challenged and comforted us.  And we remember our own journey here – what brought us to this place, the ways that we connected, the ministries that we joined, and the reasons why we stay.  We take all these memories and we together say, “Thanks be to God for all that has been.”

Earlier this week, the bishop visited with our Vestry to talk about the work we are currently doing in Plainview.  We shared with him our new initiatives in outreach – the ways that we have adopted local families in need, the food we grew this summer in our Garden of Eatin’ to feed our neighbors, and the sandwiches we make with our interfaith brothers and sisters to feed those who do not know from where the next meal will come.  We shared with the bishop our evangelism efforts – our new website, blog, and Facebook page.  We talked about our efforts to spread the word about St. Margaret’s in our community – our mailings, signage, community presence at events, and even our challenge to get off campus more.  And we also shared with the bishop our ministry to spiritually feed everyone who comes through our doors – through education programs for adults and children, for spiritual offerings here and off campus, and through prayer and pastoral ministries.  The bishop was pleased with our efforts to reach beyond our walls and to find community partners in the process.  Together, we all said, “Thanks be to God for all that is.”

But the bishop did not let us off so easily.  He reminded us that we still had work to do.  He reminded us that this community is a largely un-churched community – full of people who have fallen away from the church or who have never known church.  He also reminded us that our mission field is not just in Plainview.  Our mission field is also in every place that each parishioner lives.  We are all agents of sharing the good news of Christ Jesus, and that our work more about welcoming people into a relationship with Christ than to grow the church.  The bishop also reminded us that there are still potential partnerships available to us.  There are ways that we can feed our current ministries through partnering with others, and we should not shy away from that work.  In many ways, I understood the bishop to be saying, “You have already made some great changes and are thinking outside of the box.  Now, keep making changes and keep thinking outside of the box.  Your work is not yet done.”  And so, with the bishop, together we prayed, “Thanks be to God for all that is yet to come.”

In many ways, I see parallels between what we are doing today and what is happening in our Gospel lesson today.  We are looking back, looking at today, and dreaming about tomorrow.  John the Baptist is in a similar situation.  As he sits in his cold jail cell, he thinks back to the prophets of old – of Isaiah who proclaimed that there would be one crying out in the wilderness, “Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.”  He recalls all that was said about the coming of a Messiah, and what the people of God could expect from the Messiah.  As he thinks about this rich past, he also looks at the current time.  He remembers how Jesus comes to be baptized by him, and how John feels unworthy to tie the thong of his sandal, let alone baptize him.  He begins to feel that his prayers have been answered, and God is finally acting in human history.  But he also feels those cold floors, those shackles on his limbs, and the permanence of those prison bars.  Is he mistaken?  Is Jesus not the Messiah?  If Jesus is the Messiah, surely his messenger, John, would not be sitting in this cell.  Perhaps there is more waiting in John’s future – perhaps the time is yet to come.

I have been thinking a lot this week about John’s jail experience and the many other prophets we know who have spent time imprisoned.  Of Dietrich Bonhoeffer who just a few months before the Nazis hanged him wrote, “Who am I?”  Though he eventually wrote, “Whoever I am, thou knowest, O God, I am thine,”[i] I imagine Bonhoeffer could relate to John the Baptist’s prison questioning.  I also think about Nelson Mandela in South Africa, Aung San Suu Kyi in Burma, or Martin Luther King, Junior in the United States who all sat in confinement fighting for a world ruled by equity and justice.  Though we admire them, surely they had dark nights of the soul during that time.  That is the funny thing about expectations though.  When things do not work out as we planned, we sometimes wonder whether God is acting at all.  John surely wondered whether God was present in Jesus.  Dietrich, Nelson, Aung San, and Martin must have wondered whether they were on the right track too.

I am sure that sitting in a jail cell leads one to wonder and dream about the future.  But when John inquires of Jesus what the future holds, all Jesus says is to look around.  He does not give John definite answers.  He simply points him toward the movement of the Holy Spirit all around him.  In some ways, as we look at the next fifty years we could also wonder about where we are going.  We too could wonder if the changes we are making are the right ones.  We could wonder if God will come in and light a blazing fire that will spark a renewal of ministry and blessing in this place.

And so today, in the midst of celebration and anticipation, we are given the wonderful collect of third Advent.  “Stir up your power, O Lord, and with great might come among us…”  We do not pray for reassurance, for confirmation, or for hope.  Instead, we pray that God will come among us and stir things up.  Now I do not know about you, but stirring things up is not exactly the reassurance I was hoping for today.  It is not the “well done, good and faithful servant,” I might have wanted to hear on our 50th anniversary.  But in some ways, I think this prayer is better.  This prayer, “Stir up your power, O Lord, and with great might come among us,” is a prayer focused more on the future than the past.  The prayer is our way of saying, “Okay, Lord.  We have been good and faithful servants.  Now, come among us and keep stirring our pot – because, as our bishop reminds us, our work is not yet done.”  We ask God to stir us up – to give us a new fire, a new spark for the work Christ has given us to do.  We know that in the stirring, we may come out looking differently than we expected.  We know that in the stirring, we may find ourselves disoriented or even trying life together new ways.  But we also know that in the stirring, the Holy Spirit moves in us to make us a better people for God.  Today we are grateful for all that has been and all that is.  And now we ask God to stir us up so that we can celebrate all that is to come.  Amen.

[i] John P. Burgess, “Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. A, Vol. 1 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 72.

Homily – Acts 11.1-18, Cornelius the Centurion, February 7, 2013

15 Friday Feb 2013

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Today we celebrate Cornelius the Centurion.  If you remember from our reading of Acts last year, this story of Peter and Cornelius gets retold multiple times.  Peter has this bizarre dream about a sheet that descends with four-footed animals.  God tells Peter to eat, and Peter resists because it is against his custom to eat animals deemed to be unclean.  But God insists that Peter eat.  After the dream, three men from Caesarea send for him, and Peter meets Cornelius.  Meanwhile, Cornelius had been praying; he was a devout man who feared God, gave to the poor and prayed constantly.  Cornelius was also given a vision to send for Peter.  Through their encounter, Cornelius becomes the first Gentile to be converted to Christianity – a big deal for the spreading of Christianity.

What I like about this feast day is that these lessons are not honoring the feast of St. Peter.  These lessons are not meant to honor the one who allowed the Gentiles “in.”  These lessons honor the Gentile who equally responded to God.  This emphasis dramatically shifts the power dynamic between Peter and Cornelius.  We do not celebrate the act of Jews converting Gentiles, but instead celebrate the movement of the Spirit among the Gentiles.

This distinction is important for us because it impacts so much of our ministry.  Cornelius invites us to redefine our definitions or boundaries around “us” and “them.”  When we do this with service work, the work becomes about us helping others, not about how we mutually grow in the encounter.  When we do this with evangelism, the work becomes about bringing them to us, not about how our “us” is incomplete.

What Cornelius does today is remind us of the experience of mutuality in ministry.  We are invited to be always open to the unexpected ways and in the unexpected people God will work through.  Cornelius invites us to learn the stories of those people we help with our food collections.  Cornelius reminds us that in speaking the Good News, we receive abundantly.  Cornelius reminds us, as he became the Second Bishop of Caesarea, that our lives are enriched by those who we deem as “other.”  Cornelius invites us to, like those in Jerusalem, proclaim: “Then God has given even to the Gentiles the repentance that leads to life.”  Amen.