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Sermon – Genesis 17.1-7, 15-16, Mark 8.31-38, L2, YB, February 25, 2024

15 Friday Mar 2024

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I remember in those first months of parenthood, an older mom and educator shared a bit wisdom with me.  “Remember, that your primary job as a parent,” she told me, “is to foster the independence of your child.”  At the time, her advice seemed a little strange – nothing about making the child feel loved, or reading to them every night, or creating safe space:  just fostering independence.  What I did not realize at the time was how incredibly difficult and grueling the work of fostering independence would be.  For starters, fostering independence in your children means giving up control – something I tend to like having.  And as if that is not hard enough, fostering independence means being the victim of your children’s own desire for control.  I cannot tell you the number of times I have been walking in my house muttering the words, “I am raising independent children.  I am raising independent children.  I am raising independent children.”

I think why this aspect of parenting is so tricky for me is parenting gets to the heart of one of the eternal struggles we have in life – and certainly with God:  our desire for control.  So, we should not at all be surprised to discover that during Lent, that is what both our Old Testament and our Gospel lessons are about:  ceding control.  We can start with Abraham’s story.  This is actually the third time Abraham has been promised a son – or at the beginning of our text, he is still Abram, not Abraham.  But we’ll get to that later.  Abram struggles like we do with control.  When he and Sarai are not pregnant at 75, or 86, or now 99 years old, he’s pretty sure God is not going to make good on God’s promise.[i]  So, Abram takes matters into his own hands and has a child with Hagar, Sarai’s servant, hoping he can make Ishmael the inheritor of God’s promise.  Abram and Sarai just could not trust and cede control to God about becoming pregnant themselves, especially since God’s promise is so ludicrously abundant.  In fact, in the verse immediately following what we read today, we are told Abraham falls on his face and laughs at God.  That is how ludicrously abundant God’s promise is for progeny. 

Of course, Peter is not much better when he needs to trust Jesus.  Jesus tells the disciples in Mark’s gospel that he will suffer and die to fulfill his role as the Messiah.  But Peter, and quietly the other disciples[ii], physically grabs Jesus and rebukes him.  The things Jesus is saying are not the way Peter or the others expected a Messiah to function for good.  As one scholar explains, they signed on for a crown, not a cross.[iii]  But Peter’s grasping rebuke of Jesus is about as literal of resistance as one can get:  an utter unwillingness to cede control of how salvation through the Messiah will work.  And so, Jesus says those stingingly harsh words, “Get behind me Satan!  You are thinking not as God thinks, but as human beings do.”[iv]  Peter and the disciples are no better at trusting and ceding control to God than Abraham is.

In some way or another, I think most of our Lenten disciplines, most of the sinfulness that we are praying about or working on in Lent is rooted in this very issue: our issues with control and trusting in God.  We are so deeply rooted in the American ethic of working hard, achieving your goals, of pulling yourself up by your bootstraps and realizing your own destiny that we leave very little space for God in our lives.  We love being endowed with free will, so the notion that we should just trust God or even give up control to God feels like a fool’s errand.  Having this ethic deeply seeded in our core identity, we, as one scholar argues, arrogantly “assume that we know what must be done, so that even a word from Jesus himself cannot dissuade us.  Blinded by our prejudices, presuppositions, and preconceptions of the way things must be, we would not be convinced otherwise, even were someone to rise from the dead!”[v]

Before we get slapped in the face five weeks from now, when Jesus actually rises from the dead, how might we begin to take a harder look at the illogical nature of our resistance to God?  I like to turn toward Abraham.  I’m going have you do what they do in my mom’s evangelical church, and turn back to the Word of scripture found in your bulletin, and grab a pen (or at least a pen in your imagination).  We’re going to look back over that text and literally or mentally circle every word of abundance in this Genesis text.  We find words like, “exceedingly numerous,” “multitude of nations,” “multitude of nations,” (again) “exceedingly fruitful,” “nations,” “kings,” “throughout their generations,” “everlasting covenant,” “offspring after you,” “bless,” “rise to nations,” “and “kings of peoples.”[vi]  Abram turned Abraham may not have much to say in how this covenant with God will unfold.  But everything we read about this covenant is not just blessing, but abundant blessing.  This covenant is oozing with generosity and indulgence.  The abundance of God’s covenant is embarrassingly, overwhelmingly over the top.  Even Abram’s name change is a marker of this abundance.  The Hebrew for Abram is “father;” the Hebrew for Abraham is “father of a multitude.”[vii]

I do not know what you are holding back from God these days.  I do not know where your lack of trust in God is making you grasp onto a sense of control, as though you know better than the Almighty.  But our texts today are inviting us to let go of the death grip on the way we think things should be, and to make space for the ways God is showing us how things can be.  We will not get our say in the matter necessarily – no amount of struggle will make things better.  But the promise is that when we give our lives over to Christ – when we put our trust in the God whose covenants are not just okay – or even pretty good – but are shockingly, unimaginably abundantly awesome, we are promised very good things indeed.  Some of those good things will be so good we find them laughable.  But that is just because our imagination and our abilities to produce abundant goodness are not like God’s.  But God gifts them to us anyway.  Our invitation is to open our hands and receive them.  Amen.

[i] Barbara Brown Taylor, “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 2 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 51.

[ii] Jouette M. Bassler, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 2 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 71.

[iii] W. Hulitt Gloer, “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 2 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 71.

[iv] NAB, NJB translations as provided by Bassler, 71.

[v] Gloer, 71.

[vi] This notion of abundance in the text presented by Karoline Lewis in “#950: Second Sunday in Lent – Feb. 25, 2024,” Sermon Brainwave Podcast, February 18, 2024, as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/podcasts/950-second-sunday-in-lent-feb-25-2024 on February 23, 2024.

[vii] W. Sibley Towner, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 2 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 55.

Sermon – Luke 24.13-35, E3, YA, April 23, 2023

30 Tuesday May 2023

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In 2015, Jamil sat in a hospital room distraught.  His newborn daughter, Alma, had suffered a stroke during childbirth, and had been whisked away to the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit.  Doctors and nurses had been tending to her around the clock.  And then, in the haze of the hospital stay, at about one o’clock in the morning, a doctor came into their hospital room and shared some difficult news about Alma’s treatment plan.  And here’s where the story gets interesting:  “‘…instead of just delivering the news compassionately and leaving, [the doctor] just pulled up a chair.’  The two men talked for about 90 minutes — a wide-ranging conversation in which the doctor told Jamil about his own struggles as a new father, and shared his thoughts about parenthood.”  Jamil recalls of Dr. Petersen, “It was as though he hit the pause button on this torrent of pain and anguish that we were feeling.” [i]

Sometimes we have a hard time remembering what the first Easter and Eastertide felt like for the followers of Christ.  We read Luke’s gospel today, but in all the gospel narratives of that first Easter, we discover not a sense of victory and responding alleluias.  We find fear, confusion, and resistance.  In Luke’s gospel today, the women have already discovered and reported the empty tomb, and Peter even had run to confirm the amazing news.  Today we pick up the story as Cleopas and another disciple of Jesus have packed up and are heading back home to Emmaus.  They do not believe the women and the inability of Peter to see the risen Lord makes them even more incredulous.  As they unknowingly talk to Jesus along their walk to Emmaus, they express their despondency acutely, “…we had hoped that he was the one to redeem Israel.”[ii]

We too get trapped in post-Easter uncertainty.  We had a glorious Holy Week and Easter Sunday here at Hickory Neck, and even enjoyed a healthy crowd last Sunday.  This past week we started our Gratitude Gatherings, which have been full of joyful pondering about all that the Holy Spirit is doing among us.  As we turned our conversations to our hopes for Hickory Neck, I have heard a similar thread:  a longing to know what is next.  We have walked through all sorts of identity changing years of late:  from new leadership, to welcoming, nurturing, and then sending on the Kensington School, to wading through a pandemic and becoming a hybrid community, to the promise of a sabbatical in just a month’s time.  As we have talked about our hopes for the future, we have many dreams and desires; but it also feels like we are standing at a precipice.  We have that feeling of goodness and blessing, and also that unsettling feeling of wondering where God is taking us next. 

When Jamil sat with Dr. Petersen for an hour and half in the midst of his grief and anxiety, he says, “‘I just felt like I couldn’t control anything…I was feeling this loss of autonomy, of agency.  And then I just remember [Dr. Petersen] not leaving.’  Petersen’s honest conversation about the ups and downs of fatherhood reminded [Jamil] that he wasn’t doing this alone.”  Jamil says, “Afterwards I stopped thinking about the suffering that we were going through and started thinking about, OK, well, what do we do for Alma next?”[iii]

Jesus does not leave Cleopas and the other disciple in the despondency.  He walks with them.  He listens and he shares the salvation narrative with them.  And as if that were not enough, Jesus “leaves them free to continue on without him.”  Like he always does, he gives his followers free will.  And when Jesus is invited to stay on, Jesus does.  Only then – in the sacrament of breaking bread, blessing bread, and distributing bread – only then are the disciples’ eyes opened.[iv]  Jesus tarries with the disciples until they can ask the question that the followers in our Acts narrative ask today, “What should we do?”[v]

That is our invitation at Hickory Neck in these coming weeks and months.  We are invited to sit with Jesus – to not let him depart, but to continue walking, talking, and eating together at his table.  We are invited in these weeks of Easter and sabbatical, to keep gathering together, to listen in the midst of our busy lives, to be open to how Jesus is warming our hearts with his presence.  That is where our hopes and dreams become redefined.  That is where we become renewed and delivered from our fears and anxieties.  That is where we can let go of what has been and take up what we are to do next.  Jesus is with us – and his presence is a glorious promise for warmed hearts and renewed spirits.  Amen.

[i] Laura Kwerel, “Jamil was struggling after his daughter had a stroke. Then a doctor pulled up a chair.”  My Unsung Hero from Hidden Brain, NPR, April 17, 2023, as found at https://www.npr.org/2023/04/17/1167802053/jamil-was-struggling-after-his-daughter-had-a-stroke-then-a-doctor-stepped-in on April 19, 2023.

[ii] Luke 24.21

[iii] Kwerel.

[iv] Cynthia A. Jarvis, “Homiletical Perspective, Feasting on the Word, Yr. A, Vol. 2 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 423.

[v] Acts 2.37.

Sermon – Matthew 3.13-17, E1, YA, January 12, 2020

22 Wednesday Jan 2020

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This sermon was delivered on the occasion of our Annual Meeting at Hickory Neck Episcopal Church.  

As I have been preparing for our Annual Meeting, I have been thinking how grateful I am to have John as our companion today as we look back at a year of ministry and look forward toward what is to come.  In general John is not my favorite character in scripture.  He always seems a bit extreme – sort of like that overly enthusiastic street corner preacher to whom you carefully give a wide berth and with whom you avoid eye contact for fear of having to explain how your understanding of Jesus is a bit different from theirs.  But today, I find resonance with John.

When Jesus asks John to baptize him, John’s immediate response is to resist.  John’s response is the classic, “But that’s not how we’ve always done it,” response.  This year, Hickory Neck had countless opportunities to respond like John.  When our Sunday School program elected to repurpose an unused classroom that had become storage because our Godly Play program had grown so much, we could have resisted the change and associated work involved.  When our Curate suggested we try out Ashes-to-Go on Ash Wednesday, we could have easily come up with myriad reasons why our property was not suited for such a program.  When our Praise Band decided to take a break from worship leadership and try Jam Sessions as a way to cultivate praise music in our community, we could have easily resisted their discernment and their creativity.  When the Kensington School offered to take over the children’s station at our Fall Festival, we could have easily gotten in the way or resisted their leadership.  When our Outreach Committee suggested we take on a week of the Winter Shelter by ourselves, separating from our long-time two-week sharing pattern with St. Martin’s, we could have resisted the change because we have never done Winter Shelter that way.  The opportunities to respond with John-like resistance have been overwhelmingly present over the last year.

Fortunately for us, Hickory Neck is a community who, like John works through innate human and communal tendencies toward resistance to change, and instead, embraces consent.  When John initially resists Jesus, Jesus comes back to John with an invitation to trust him.  John and Jesus engage in an open relationship of dialogue.  And, Matthew tells us, quite simply, “Then John consented.”  Matthew’s simplicity can belie how tremendous John’s consent is.  John’s consenting means letting go of control, letting go of the comfort of familiarity, letting go of the confidence that you are right and the other is wrong.  Those three little words, “Then he consented,” reveal John’s trust, John’s courage, and John’s humility.  John’s consent is not passive or weak.  John’s consent is bold!

That is what I have seen in Hickory Neck in this last year of ministry.  We have been bold!  When your Vestry formed this time last year, they took on a year-long process of visioning and strategic planning.  You will learn more about that process in the coming months, but I can tell you the Vestry has exhibited a lot of trust, courage, and humility as they looked at who we are and where we are going.  Hickory Neck has been bold in other areas too.  When our Parish Life team decided to resurrect the Shrove Tuesday Talent Show, I was uncertain how the Talent Show would go.  But we spent the night laughing, playing, and glorifying God in bold ways.  When the Kensington School invited us to teach Godly Play as an elective class, I was almost certain we would not have anyone sign up.  But out of 70 students, about a third of whom are ineligible due to age, we have over 20 students who regularly come to listen for God.  When our Musician decided to organize Evensongs, helping us prepare for a pilgrimage in England, I wondered whether many people would come to hear the traditional musical offering.  But when over 100 people, half of whom were visitors, attended, we saw how we are a community who can celebrate all kinds of music.  Or when we decided to totally transform this space for Flip Flop Mass, even the staff were not sure what we were doing.  But the joy and delight on worshippers faces afterwards taught us we had found something unique, meaningful, and fun.  Hickory Neck has been embracing bold responses to God all year long!

Part of our willingness to be bold this past year has been rooted in Hickory Neck’s identity and values.  As our Vestry articulated our values this year, one of those values was curiosity – an embracing of experimentation, playfulness, and joy.  That value, which is not common among churches, I assure you, creates in us an inherent ability to do what John does – to consent to Jesus, to the movement of the Spirit in what might be happening next.  That is why I am confident 2020 holds the promise of many more expressions of boldness.  After a successful year of offering a Godly Play class at the Kensington School here in Toano, the director has asked us to offer a Godly Play class at their Williamsburg location – a location that has around 250 kids as compared to the 70 kids here.  We will need to find about four more teachers to enable such an undertaking, but such boldness could mean sharing the good news not only with our immediate Upper James City County families, but families throughout our region.  As we face the departure of our curate later this month, a full-time clergy position that cannot be financially replaced due to pledging, we could choose fear, resistance, or despondency.  Instead, our Personnel Committee, Vestry, and Staff have been creatively trying to figure out a new staffing structure – a way to think about ministry differently, employing the gifts of the entire community to achieve something different, but equally life-giving that can facilitate the achievement of the strategic priorities our Vestry has articulated.  When our dream of bringing more childcare to our community was realized, a group of parishioners realized that not everyone could afford that childcare.  Instead of feeling frustrated or stymied, a group came together to form a Scholarship Committee to figure out how to make childcare accessible to our neighbors.  That group has boldly discerned the need to create a 501(c)3 nonprofit organization that can raise funds – and not just for children in our community needing care, but eventually, even for seniors needing help with care.  The process may take a while to coalesce, but the Committee is demonstrating to all of us how to live more boldly this year.

The reason John is able to consent comes out of his trust in Christ Jesus.  We know from Matthew’s Gospel that John is not always consistent in his trust.  Chapters later, as he sits in a jail cell, his trust in Jesus waivers.  But here today, at the banks of the River Jordan, John talks to Jesus about his misgivings, John articulates why he believes he knows what is best, and John takes into consideration the wisdom of another way from Jesus.  John chooses the boldness of the unknown path of Christ over the confidence of how things have always been.  John chooses the wisdom of the Spirit over his own long-accumulated wisdom.  John chooses to trust God is doing something new, and consents to going along for the ride.

The same is true for Hickory Neck.  Any of the boldness we are hoping to embrace this year is rooted in who we are:  a community anchored in deep, daily prayer, in meaningful, diverse worship, in varied forms of study and theological reflection, in life-giving, meaningful relationships with one another and the wider community, in the giving of care and support to those who need that care.  All of those activities, those things that shape who Hickory Neck is, create a foundation for us to have a deep enough relationship with Christ that when the Spirit invites us into something new, something seemingly out of our reach, something unlike the way we have done things, we have no problem looking into the eyes of Jesus, and consenting.  Now, being bold is not easy.  To be bold means we acknowledge we are leaving our comfort zones and a sense of security.  But when I look around our community – when I look at each of you and the gifts you bring to Hickory Neck and the ways God is working good through you, the idea of being bold with you isn’t so scary.  In fact, being bold is kind of exciting, invigorating, and fun.  I cannot wait to have more fun with you this coming year, and I am so grateful we have each other live into this new year of ministry.  God has great things in store for us, and I feel privileged to be able to stand with you as we consent to the movement of the Spirit together.  Amen.