Tag Archives: Sermon

Sermon – 2 Samuel 11.26-12.13a, P13, YB, August 4, 2024

28 Wednesday Aug 2024

Posted by in Sermons

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , ,

One of the most powerful offerings at Hickory Neck is our Godly Play program.  Our youngest children engage in Godly Play in Sunday School, we broadcast Godly Play stories on Facebook every Sunday, our children use Godly Play in Children’s Chapel at the 10:00 am service, and we use Godly Play at The Kensington School for over 20 children each week.  Several of us got to witness Godly Play this week at Vacation Bible School, and I have to tell you, Mr. Z. told one of the more powerful stories this week.  He started out with wooden figurines – a man with a staff, a fence, and lots of little sheep.  As he told the story, the kids came up with names for the sheep:  Rufus, Bob, and Cookie, to name a few.  And then very quietly and dramatically, Mr. Z said, “Look what happens now.”  The fence for the sheep that the Good Shepherd was protecting was taken away and replaced with a little wooden table.  Then the sheep were replaced one by one with little wooden figures of people.  And then the Good Shepherd shed his staff, and assumed the role of serving bread and wine at the table.  The transformation had all the adults in the room stunned – not to mention all our kids.  Suddenly the Good Shepherd (i.e. Jesus and his sheep – or followers), was found in modern day, consecrating a meal among similarly named people, or followers of Jesus.  I made sure Mr. Z clarified that the priest at the table was not actually Jesus but a representative of Jesus, but as one who breaks bread with you weekly, my senses were totally disoriented by those powerful little pieces of wood.

The same thing happens to David today.  We did not talk about it last week, but our Hebrew Scripture reading last week told one of the more awful stories in our Scriptures – the sainted King David acting very un-saintly:  coveting what was not his, acting violently against a woman and impregnating her, attempting to cover his sin through trickery, and when that did not work, having the woman’s husband killed so he could have her as his own.  In today’s lesson, Nathan takes on the role of Mr. Z, entering the narrative with a story.  Nathan spends a great deal of time describing this poor man who has only one ewe lamb, whom he feeds with his own meager food, and loves like a daughter – and a rich man who, although he has more than enough of his own lambs, takes the poor man’s beloved little lamb and kills it for food.  The story is so pitiful that even David gets in a rage and says this man deserves to die and should restore the lamb fourfold.  And here is where Nathan pulls a Mr. Z switch.  “You are the man!” Nathan says.

Now in the whole of this sordid story of David there are three instances of characters speaking two simple words in the original Hebrew.  The first happens in the last chapter of second Samuel when Bathsheba sends word, translated as “I am pregnant” or harah ‘anoki.  The second instance of two simple Hebrew words comes from Nathan “’atah ha’ish,” translated as “You are the man.”  The final two words will come at the end of the story, when David realizing his grave sins, confesses “hata’ti lyhwh,” translated as “I have sinned against Yahweh.”  In these three short phrases, David is indicted, David is identified, and David submits and turns to God.  None of these phrases is easy to say by any of the characters, and yet all are needed for powerful transformation to happen before God.[i] 

But most of those words could never have emerged without the gift of story.  Just like Mr. Z transformed sheep named Rufus, Bob, and Cookie into parishioners named Sue, David, and Linda, so God uses Nathan to transform human sinfulness into faithful living.  As one scholar describes, Nathan’s parable, “…engaged a side of David that is totally different from the man who forces sex upon Bathsheba and orders the death of her husband Uriah.  David is no longer the absolutist king acting from the prerogatives of power and authority.  Nathan’s parable has touched the moral sensibilities of David’s humanity.”[ii] 

One of the more troubling realities of our day is that we have lost the ability to really talk to one another.  The seductive power of “us versus them” in the world has put us in seemingly impenetrable bubbles that keep us divided, full of hate (or at least extreme dislike), and surrounded by people who always agree with us instead of challenging us to be better followers of Christ.  Into this troubling reality, Nathan and Mr. Z remind us of the power of story to transform us into the faithful community that God calls us to be – not divided, hateful, monolithic groups – but united, loving, diverse groups of truth and love.  Nathan teaches us that our work is to reframe narrative and the message of Jesus so that we all stand on common ground.  Though we and others may need judgment, our invitation is not to condemn, but to invite others into fresh eyes through the power of reframing story – to find ways to tell the story of Jesus in alternative ways that lead to new insight and behavior.[iii]  The promise in our commitment to that work is that we can fulfill God’s deepest desire – that we turn from our sinful ways and return to God.  We can do that work as long as we work to do that work together – sinners united in loving storytelling and turning to God.  Amen.

[i] Walter Brueggemann, First and Second Samuel:  Interpretation:  A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching (Louisville:  John Knox Press, 1990), 282-283.

[ii] Thomas H. Troeger, “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Proper 13, Year B, Supplemental Batch 2 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2012), 4.

[iii] Shawnthea Monroe, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Proper 13, Year B, Supplemental Batch 2 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2012), 5.

Sermon – Mark 6.14-29, P10, YB, July 14, 2024

17 Wednesday Jul 2024

Posted by in Sermons

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Today’s gospel lesson contains one of those iconic stories that is so vivid the story is seared in our minds.  In short, John the Baptist is decapitated by Herod Antipas who serves John’s head on a platter.  On the one hand, the brutal scene, depicted in art for centuries, is one we prefer to acknowledge and move on.  Certainly, this is a cautionary tale for the prophetic life.  John is now dead, and Jesus takes the reins.  But there is so much more to this story.  There is John’s faithfulness to making a way for the inbreaking of the kingdom – including the criticism of Herod Antipas’ marriage to his brother’s wife.  There is the king’s imprisonment of John mingled with his fascination with John, leaving him sitting at John’s feet enthralled by John’s teachings.  There is the vengeance of Herodias, the criticized wife of Antipas, who manipulates her daughter into asking for John’s head.  There is the proud Herod Antipas who makes ridiculous promises to his daughter and spinelessly agrees to kill John despite his knowing better – just to save face in front of his friends.  This is a story so woven in political and ethical intrigue that we do not like to look too closely for fear of seeing modern-day parallels.

But what is perhaps more intriguing about trying to avert our eyes from this brutal, shameful scene is that John’s beheading is not the first time scripture hands us a story like this.   “The story looks like a reprise of 2 Kings 16-21, the story of Queen Jezebel, the enemy of Elijah.  Just as Jezebel manipulated her husband, King Ahab, so Herodias manipulates Antipas.  Just as Elijah indicts Ahab and Jezebel, so John the Baptizer indicts Antipas and Herodias.”[i]  Furthermore, there are parallels to Esther’s story, whose husband also promises her anything she wants, up to half of his kingdom.  Esther uses her promise for good, able to thwart the villain Haman’s plan to kill off her fellow Jewish brothers and sisters.  Reflecting on the canon of scripture, we cannot avoid the ugly truth that scholar Amy-Jill Levine uncovers:  that “Death at the hands of corrupt authorities is the fate of John, and Jesus, and of countless others who have done the right thing, at the cost of their own lives.”[ii]

So, what do we do with this tale of terror laid at our feet today – a tale told time and time again in scripture?  I am intrigued by scholar Matt Skinner’s instruction look at the disciples.[iii]  In the very last line of our text today, Mark says, “When his disciples heard about [John the Baptizer’s murder], they came and took his body, and laid it in a tomb.”[iv]  If you remember, in the text last week, Jesus was shut down in his hometown and unable to perform miracles, instead sending out the twelve in pairs to cast out demons and to heal the sick.  For Jesus and his disciples, they got back to work.  And if we kept reading Mark’s gospel, in the verses that follow today’s story, we will hear how Jesus and disciples go on about their work, with Jesus miraculously feeding five thousand people.  John’s death is horrific, brought about by evil and sinfulness.  And yet, his disciples boldly come forward and bury his body.  Jesus sees John’s death and must know a similar fate awaits him.  And yet, he and his disciples get back to work, doing the good news of God in Christ.

Stories like John’s beheading are indeed graphic, sobering stories of what awaits those who live in the light of God.  And yet, time and again, Elijah, Esther, John the Baptizer, Jesus, and Jesus’ disciples keep going.  They keep doing the next good thing.  There is part of that model that feels unjust – surely, we should be fighting for justice, standing up to those who abuse power, who manipulate authority, whose self-centeredness and pride promote evil.  We revere plenty of saints who did just that kind of work.  And yet today, in the face of brutality, hopelessness, and injustice, the disciples of John and the disciples of Jesus just keep going.  They keep doing the work of the kingdom.

We are in an unprecedented time of political turmoil.  And in the coming weeks and months, given our diverse political backgrounds in this community, we will likely disagree about what our country can and should be doing.  But what brings us to this common table every week is a commitment to the life and ministry of Christ – the bringing about of a kingdom that is not of this world.  We will need each other – sometimes to figure out what the next best thing is, sometimes for the encouragement to do the next best thing, and always as a reminder that we disciples of Jesus need each other to do the next best thing.  We know from John, Jesus, Elijah, and others that doing the next best thing may end in personal suffering.  But we also know that continuing to do that next best thing helps bring us just a little bit closer to that kingdom here on earth.  We go together.  Amen.

[i] Amy-Jill Levine, The Gospel of Mark:  A Beginner’s Guide to the Good News (Nashville:  Abingdon Press, 2023), 38-39.

[ii] Levine, 42.

[iii] Matt Skinner, “Commentary on Mark 6:14-29,” July 14, 2024, as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-15-2/commentary-on-mark-614-29-6 on July 12, 2024.

[iv] Mark 6.29.

Sermon – Mark 6.1-13, P9, YB, July 7, 2024

17 Wednesday Jul 2024

Posted by in Sermons

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

I realized recently that one of things I often say when I am asked how my family is doing is to offer a halfhearted compliment, “Everyone is staying in their lane.”   I think I started adopting that minimum standard, “staying in your lane,” because I have learned over the years how little control I have as a parent.  I may not be able to control what things my kids are interested in, I may not be able to control how well they perform in school, and I may not be able to control how they handle interpersonal relationships.  But if each family member is “staying in their lane,” then that means I have at least controlled their meddling with one another, their active misbehavior, or their making a scene anywhere else. 

That is what seems to be bothering the folks in Jesus’ hometown of Nazareth – Jesus is not staying in his lane.  At the beginning, there seems to be a modicum of respect for what Jesus is teaching in the synagogue – they compliment the wisdom he seems to have gained and the healing acts he has performed.  But the compliments end there.  Then the questions begin.  Where did he get this wisdom?  Isn’t he the carpenter’s son?  Isn’t he the son of Mary – a question dripping with criticism, as you would usually only refer to someone’s parentage through the father, not the mother.[i]  In other words, the people of Jesus’ hometown are basically saying, “Stay in your lane, Jesus!”

Passages like this can be so tempting for us.  We read about Jesus’ hometown and think, “Those silly folks from Nazareth!  They cannot see what God is doing right in front of them!”  As if “those” people and finger pointing is what the gospel calls for.  But when we start wagging our fingers at “those” people, we forget one kernel of truth about scripture:  we are always “those” people.”  Anytime something someone does in scripture makes us uncomfortable or sanctimonious, scripture is speaking straight to “us” not “those people.”  So, the people of Nazareth aren’t the only ones telling Jesus to stay in his lane.  We tell that to Jesus all the time.  When the Holy Spirit is calling us try a new ministry that feels daunting, we are tempted to tell Jesus to stay in his lane and let us do things our way.  When Jesus puts people in our lives that push us out of our comfort zones, we grumble to Jesus to stay in his lane and stop sending us prophets – I mean, annoying people.  When we hear that still, quiet voice speaking truth to us in places we like to keep in a box, we cut Jesus some nasty side-eye and tell Jesus to stay in his lane.

But as scholar Debie Thomas says, “The call of the Gospel is not a call to stand still.  It is a call to choose movement over stasis, change over security, growth over decay.”[ii]  Just last Sunday, we started a movie series about changemakers.  Last week, the film was The Philadelphia Eleven, the story of the unsanctioned ordination of the first eleven women in the Episcopal Church.  The vitriol of the bishops, clergy, and lay people who were opposed to those women’s ordination was shocking to the ears.  From the clergy person who stated with confidence, “Women can be anything they want – except a priest in God’s holy church.”  From the woman who lamented the ways those women had violated what God calls women to be and do in the world.  To the bishops held a public, scathing trial of the three male bishops who dared to ordain the first eleven.  The Philadelphia Eleven had waited time after time for the Episcopal Church to change – to chose growth, change, and movement instead of decay, security, and stasis.  And when the church refused to let these women out of their lane, the stepped out of their lane anyway.

Scholar Thomas concludes, “The scandal of the Incarnation is precisely that Jesus doesn’t stay in his lane.  God doesn’t limit God’s self to our small and stingy notions of the sacred.  God exceeds, God abounds, God transgresses, God transcends.  The lowly carpenter reveals himself as Lord.  The guy with the tainted birth story offers us salvation.  The hometown prophet tells us truths we’d rather not hear… [Jesus] will call out to us, nevertheless, daring us always to see and experience him anew.”[iii]  Our invitation today is let Jesus out of his lane in our life:  to not hold his lane as sacred, and to open ourselves to the ways his transgression of lanes is helping us to experience Jesus in new and fresh ways.  Maybe we do that in weekly worship, opening ourselves through song, prayer, and scripture to fresh experiences of God.  Maybe we come to the film series or Bible study this summer to see where God is exceeding, abounding, transgressing, and transcending.  Or maybe we let go of whatever boundary we are holding here at Hickory Neck to see what happens when we ask Jesus to please cross out of his lane.  The promise for us is a fresh experience of Jesus in our own day, time, and place.  Amen.

[i] Efrain Agosto, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Year B, Vol. 3 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 215.

[ii] Debie Thomas, “Hometown Prophets,” June 27, 2021, as found at https://www.journeywithjesus.net/essays/3058-hometown-prophets on July 5, 2024.

[iii] Thomas.

Sermon – Mark 4.26-32, P6, YB, June 16, 2024

19 Wednesday Jun 2024

Posted by in Sermons

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Many of you know that I grew up in the United Methodist Church.  Growing up in the Methodist Church meant that I was steeped a particular set of hymns, many written by John and Charles Wesley themselves – John being attributed with the founding of the Methodist movement.  I can be at a retirement community or an ecumenical service and one of those songs will come up, and I am instantly transported back to the old country church where my dad was the pastor.  There is something about that music that almost feels like the music is a part of my DNA.  So, imagine my surprise when I found out in seminary that much of the music settings for those old timey hymns I love were actually pub songs – tunes that anyone who had spent time at the pub would know, just set to new words about Jesus.  Charles and John did that because they knew it would make the songs deeply familiar, while becoming teaching tools for the church.  No wonder those hymns are so catchy!

In some ways, parables from Jesus are similar.  Jesus uses story to teach truth.  Teaching through parables makes the teaching engaging, accessible, and memorable.  I bet that even today, two thousand years later, when we heard Mark’s gospel today, we probably thought, “Oh yeah!  The one about the mustard seed.  That’s about just having a little faith is all you need!”  And in part, you would be right.  But as catchy as pub songs are and parables seem, unfortunately, Jesus’ parables, while memorable, are not always simple in meaning. 

Our trouble starts with the fact that we have two parables together today – not just the one about the mustard seed.  In the first one, Jesus says the kingdom is like a guy who scatters some seed and then does literally almost nothing – he does not even know how the growing of seeds into plants works.  And then he just goes out to harvest.  So, that’s parable number one.  Parable number two compares the kingdom of God to a tiny little mustard seed that, when planted, grows into a huge bush big enough where birds can make nests.  So, this is not exactly a set of stories about just having a little bit of faith.  And quite frankly, if you take these two together, they seem to be saying that basically we do not really have much of a hand in the fruitfulness of the kingdom – that maybe we do not even understand the kingdom.  So, is that the message?  Just sit back because God does all the work to bring about the kingdom – oh, and the kingdom will be really big?

As much as I would like to send you all home today thinking you can just kick up your feet and sit back while God does the heavy lifting, especially as summer gets into full swing, unfortunately, we have summertime work to do.  You see, in both of these parables, while the miracle of growth happens through God, the planting in both stories has to be done by a person – by us, namely.  Scholar Amy-Jill Levine explains that in these parables, the seed still has to be planted.  She confesses that certainly some things need to be left alone – notice the man in the first parable.  And sometimes we need to get out of the way – notice the planter in the second parable.  But most importantly, Levine argues “The kingdom is present when humanity and nature work together, and we do what we were put here to do – to go out on a limb and provide for others, and ourselves as well.”[i]

That doing something, that lack of passivity in the bringing about of the kingdom, is what we are talking about when we talk about stewardship.  Often when we talk about stewardship, we think of that as the church’s codeword for our money.  But we were made stewards long before there was a church.  Even in the moment of creation way back in the book of Genesis, God created us to steward God’s creation – to tend to the blessings given to us.  Now that may feel daunting – as if not only are we to tend to this church but now we must tend to the whole world! 

But before you panic, let’s go back to that mustard seed parable.  I do not know how many of you have actually been around mustard plants, but mustard plants are a lot like kudzu – they tend to take over an area where they are germinated.  Jesus is telling us all we do is plant one of those teeny-tiny seeds, and suddenly we will have kudzu spreading everywhere.  In other words, our work of stewardship is like kudzu[ii] – we invest our time, our talent, and our treasure here in this place – and the results will spread like wildfire.  Suddenly, we have whole hillsides full the love of Christ, spilling over into the neighbor’s yard, draping everything in goodness.  We do not have to micromanage the growth – we do the planting, and God partners with us to bring the growth – even growth we sometimes do not understand.  Our job is simply to plant.

Our invitation today, then is to ponder what seeds we can plant here at Hickory Neck.  What gift of time can you place here that can spread to your fellow parishioner?  What gift of your unique talent can you plant here that can grow into powerful ministry?  What gift of your financial resources can you gift here that reach beyond these walls to share and spread God’s love?  Jesus’ familiar story reminds us that whatever we give, our giving allows us to participate with God in helping manifest the kingdom of God.[iii]  And God will spread our gifts like kudzu!  Amen.

[i] Amy-Jill Levine, Short Stories by Jesus:  The Enigmatic Parables of a Controversial Rabbi (New York:  Harper One, 2014), 182.

[ii] Ronald J. Allen, “Considering the Text: Week Two, Fourth Sunday After Pentecost, 16 June 2024,” Center for Faith and Giving, 11, as found at centerforfaithandgiving.org, 2.

[iii] Allen, 13.

Sermon – 1 Samuel 8.4-20, 11.14-15, Mark 3.20-35, P5, YB, June 9, 2024

19 Wednesday Jun 2024

Posted by in Sermons

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , ,

This morning, we get two powerful stories from scripture.  In our story from first Samuel, we hear the story of how the people of Israel come to demand a king to rule over them instead of God and God’s appointed judges and prophets.  They figure if they have a king like the other nations, then they’ll never have to worry about their safety and security.  A king will defend them in a way that looks familiar – like the other nations – than a way that feels like trusting a God you cannot see.  Of course, Samuel warns them – you pick a king and the king will take your daughters and sons into his service, will steal your land and produce as his own, will take your property and use it to his own benefit, will basically enslave you (not unlike the days in Egypt).  But the people insist none of that matters – as long as they have a king like everyone else.

Meanwhile, in Mark’s gospel, Jesus has been healing people, driving out demons, saying some things, and generally making a raucous.  Here, two groups insert themselves – the scribes, who try to claim Jesus is possessed by a demon himself, and his family, who are concerned he has lost his mind and want to restrain him.  Jesus is so frustrated by their behavior, especially of his mother and brothers that he loudly states, “Who are my mother and my brother?”  In other words, he denies his very own family because they cannot see the truth in what he is doing.  In these two stories – of the Israelites wanting a king and of Jesus’ family demanding he behave in a certain way, we have people thinking they know better than God – taking matters into their own hands thinking they know how things should be.

I was talking to another parent recently about how parenting is probably the hardest job of all the vocations I have – particularly as a person who likes to imagine she has a modicum of control in her life.  In the beginning, although parenting is physically exhausting, parenting is also manageable in a way that is not so obvious.  For those infants and young children, you have a lot of control – what the child will eat and drink, what the child will wear, when the child will rest, where the child can go.  But as the child ages, they make more and more of the decisions – what they will wear, where they will go, with whom they will spend time.  This is, of course, how parenting should be – the raising up of an independent child.  But the more your child becomes independent the more you realize how the younger years were the “good ol’ days” – the days where you felt like you were in control (or at least convinced yourself you had more control than you probably did).  Parenting feels like the ultimate test for those of us who like a sense of control.

But the truth is, the ultimate test for those of us who like a sense of control is being a person of faith – following a God whose logic sometimes feels illogical, following a savior who says and does things that really push our buttons, and following a Spirit who takes us places we really do not want to go.  And so, we find ourselves, much like the Israelites, accepting slavery, abuse, and the loss of freedom just to get those things we think will make us happy and whole.  We find ourselves, like Mary and Jesus’ brothers, bossing around God, insisting God behave in ways that make us feel comfortable.  Instead, God tells them and us to trust – to trust that God will provide leaders who will guide us in the ways of justice and truth; to trust that even the things we cannot understand will lead to good; to trust that even though we cannot know what God knows, our wholehearted trust in the will of God is all that matters.

So how do we do that?  How do we, people of free will, in a country of democracy where “we the people” make decisions, in a time when choices are boundless and we must make them, how do we become people of trust – people of faith?  Well, I like to go back to that story of Jesus in a crowded room from Mark’s Gospel today.  Scholar Debie Thomas says, “…I can’t help but imagine what it must have felt like to be inside the house with Jesus that day.  I know intimately and well, as perhaps you do, the hunger to belong, to have someone safe and loving to belong to.  Regardless of our circumstances, we all know what it’s like to yearn for someone who can hold all of who we are, and love us still, without flinching.  That’s exactly what Jesus does for the crowds that day. He invites them in, he asks them to stay, and he makes them family. 

Yes, Jesus divides the house, and that process hurts.  But he doesn’t divide [the house] to make us homeless.  He divides [the house] to rebuild it.  To make [the house] more spacious, more welcoming, and more beautiful.  The Spirit of God is neither insane nor evil; the Spirit completes the good work he begins.  His will be a house of healing for the whole world.”[i]

Holy Scripture today is not inviting us to become some mindless, fluff who walk around without aim or purpose just “trusting that God will work everything out.”  God did give us freewill, and God does want us to use that freewill for good.  But what the Holy Spirit is trying to remind us of is that we do not have the whole story.  We cannot see the way in which Jesus is rebuilding the house.  We cannot fully know the feeling of being inside that home where true healing may be.  We cannot understand the fullness of the implications of our desires – which seem reasonable and justified to us.  But what we can see and know and understand is that Jesus is building a house of healing for the whole world.  And if we can stop trying to parent God, we can start beginning to see that God is constantly doing a new thing and inviting us into the family.  We just do not get to be the parent in that family.  And that is a very good thing indeed.  Amen.

[i] Debie Thomas, “A House Divided,” June 3, 2018, as found at https://www.journeywithjesus.net/essays/1805-a-house-divided on June 5, 2024.

Sermon – Acts 1.1-11, AS, YB, May 12, 2024

29 Wednesday May 2024

Posted by in Sermons

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Our Stewardship Team gathered throughout the winter and spring and had some meaningful conversations about how we measure what matters in life.  We talked about how stewardship is more than money.  Stewardship is a lifestyle based on a relationship with Jesus Christ and fulfilling our baptismal covenant to provide and participate in the mission and ministry of Hickory Neck Episcopal Church to proclaim the Gospel in word and deed in order to change the world in which we live.  But we also talked about how things can get in the way of our faith journey:  our allegiances, our faith, our compassion, our use of money, our generosity, and our belief that God provides what is necessary for living out our lives.  And so, we agreed.  In order to help us navigate how to be faithful stewards, we would begin a preaching series over the next several months – looking at those challenges to our faith journey and what scripture has to say about them.  Today, the Stewardship team teed me up on this Ascension Sunday to talk about allegiances.

Now I do not know about you, but when I read the text about the Ascension from Acts, I did not really hear anything about stewardship.  Jesus did not lean over his shoulder as he was ascending to heaven and shout, “Don’t forget to tithe 10% to the Church!” So, what does the Ascension have to do with faithful living – with stewardship?  Well, to understand that notion, we have to take a big step back from the event of the Ascension.  You see, the Ascension is sort of a pivot moment in our lives.  Luke, the author of both the gospel of Luke and the Acts of the Apostles, understood history to be “divided into two ages:  the broken old world marked by Satan, idolatry, sin, injustice, exploitation, fractiousness, scarcity, enmity with nature, violence, and death.”  The renewed world where God restores all things to God’s purposes is “marked by true worship, forgiveness, justice, mutuality, community, abundance, blessing between nature and humankind, shalom, and life.”[i]  Jesus’ life and ministry was in witness against the broken world and a shepherding in of the renewed world.  In the process of ascending Jesus gives authority to the disciples to continue the work of the renewed world.  That’s why the whole rest of the book of the Acts of the Apostles will be about how the community of Jesus – the Church – will live:  sharing resources, supporting those in need, living as a community of abundance, mutuality, and justice.

This past Thursday’s Discovery Class was the session where the attendees teach the rest of class on given topics.  One set of our class members focused on the history of the early church in America.  They talked about how the church in the 1600s and 1700s was the governing body of the region – using their resources to care for widows and orphans, tending to those who fell on hard times, basically serving as the social services agency of the region.  Now, they also had clergy appointed by the governor and charged local residents a mandatory levy to help the Church pay for those expenses (an idea I imagine a certain treasurer of ours probably wouldn’t mind) – but for all intents and purposes, the early church of the Americas operated just like the early church in the Acts of the Apostles – living as a community sharing resources, supporting those in need, embracing abundance, mutuality, and justice.  In essence, a community who understood their allegiance to be to the kingdom of God and not to the kingdom of brokenness:  a community of faithful stewardship.

We are told in our reading from the Acts of the Apostles that as the disciples watch Jesus ascend to the heavens they stand there for a moment – frozen in time as their scrambled brains try to figure out what has just happened and what Jesus’ ascension means.  While they are standing there, looking at heaven, two men in white robes appear and ask them a simple question, “Why do you stand looking up toward heaven?”  In other words, God uses these men in white to tell the disciples, “Don’t just stand there – go be the church!  Jesus showed you the way to abundant, faithful stewardship.  Now go bring kingdom living to life!”

That is our invitation today too.  Now you may be thinking, “Yeah, but the Church has changed so much.  We are not the primary social services agency in town – we are not the place responsible for people’s physical, emotional, and spiritual well-being!”  But Jesus tells us today that we are.  That every single member of this community has a part to play – can contribute your financial resources, the gift of your skills and expertise, the offering of your time to make this church a modern expression of the kingdom of God here in Upper James City County.  On this Ascension Sunday, we can choose to carry on the work of Christ, to do our part to turn away from brokenness and be agents of healing and wholeness.  Where will we find the capacity to enliven that abundant life?  In our Eucharistic Prayer today we will pray, “And, that we might live no longer for ourselves, but for him who died and rose for us, he sent the Holy Spirit, his own first gift for those who believe, to complete his work in the world, and to bring to fulfillment the sanctification of all.”[ii]  Not only did Jesus give us the mission, Jesus also gives us the Holy Spirit – that gift we will celebrate next week – so that we might be the faithful stewards of God’s abundance, declaring our allegiance to living in the light – to being the agents of abundance God knows we can be.  Our invitation is stop looking up, and start looking around at the kingdom God has gifted us to tend.  Amen.

[i] Ronald J. Allen, “Considering the Text: Week One, Ascension Sunday, 12 May 2024”  Center for Faith and Giving, as found at centerforfaithandgiving.org, 2.

[ii] BCP, 374.

Sermon – John 15.9-17, Acts 10.44-48, E6, YB, May 5, 2024

08 Wednesday May 2024

Posted by in Sermons

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , ,

When I was curate, I served with two other full-time priests.  That meant after about two years, I got used to our very different styles of preaching, but also some of the themes of our preaching.  I remember at one point, my Rector was preaching and I had the distinct thought, “Here we go again.  Another sermon about love!  Ugh!”  I remember being almost irritated thinking, surely there were other topics to preach about.

Sometimes I think we experience John’s gospel in the same way.  John’s gospel is repetitive and circular from the very beginning, “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.  He was in the beginning with God.  All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being.”[i]  But John is not the only one who is repetitive and circular – Jesus in John’s gospel is repetitive and circular too.  In the first five verses of John’s gospel today we heard the word “love” eight times.  “As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love.  If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love.”[ii]  And the funny thing about the gospel today is this is not the first time Jesus talks about love.  As I was reading verse 12, which says, “This is my commandment, that you love one another as I have loved you,” I immediately thought, “Oh, we must be reading the same text we read on Maundy Thursday!”  But you know what?  On Maundy Thursday, we read a passage from two chapters before what we heard today.  The words there are strikingly similar though.  On that night of washing feet, Jesus says, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another.  Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.”[iii]

So what is the deal with Jesus talking about love over and over again?  Scholar Karoline Lewis argues that you cannot summarize Jesus in one sentence, so of course we have lots of sentences – even if they are repetitive.[iv]  But I think there is something deeper here.  I think Jesus knew that we, as humans, easily distracted.  “Yeah, yeah, yeah Jesus, I got it.  Love my neighbor! Oh look at that shiny thing over there!”  But even more importantly, I think Jesus knew that love – loving neighbor, loving self, loving God, loving others as Jesus loved is not easy.  Loving as Jesus loves means loving people that others (and even sometimes ourselves) would rather hate.  Loving as Jesus loves means mingling with people that society calls unlovable, difficult, and even evil.  Loving as Jesus loves means seeing dignity and worth in every human being – even when they hurt us, say awful things, or are just so different that they make us uncomfortable.  All we have to do is think about what we have been hearing in the lessons from Acts last week and this week to know that loving means letting people into your circle that you had no intention of letting in – breaking those boundaries that Father Charles talked about last week.  For Peter and the early disciples, that meant Jesus was not just for the Jews, but for Jew and Gentile alike.  And not just as charity, but as a way that transformed the entire community of Jesus followers – such that we find Peter dining and staying with Gentiles – who definitely are not kosher and might even be holding fast to other gods while committing to Jesus. 

So how are we supposed to do this really hard work?  How are we supposed to pull together the strength to love as Jesus loves?  I found comfort in words from scholar Debie Thomas this week.  If you remember, last week we heard the verses from John right before our Gospel lesson today, where Jesus declares he is the vine and we are the branches – he is the vine that we are to abide in.  Debie Thomas says, “My problem is that I often treat Jesus as a role model, and then despair when I can’t live up to his high standards.  But abiding in something is not the same as emulating it.  In the vine-and-branches metaphor, Jesus’s love is not our example; it’s our source.  It’s where our love originates and deepens.  Where it replenishes itself.  In other words, if we don’t abide, we can’t love.  Jesus’s commandment to us is not that we wear ourselves out, trying to conjure love from our own easily depleted resources.  Rather, it’s that we abide in the holy place where divine love becomes possible.  That we make our home in Jesus’s love — the most abundant and inexhaustible love in existence.”[v]

Yes, we will continue to hear about loving others because love is the most important message of Jesus.  And yes, loving will feel nearly impossible at times.  But as Thomas reminds us, “As is so often the case in our lives as Christians, Jesus’s commandment leads us straight to paradox: we are called to action via rest.  Called to become love as we abide in love.  In other words, we will become what we attend to; we will give away what we take in.  The commandment — or better yet, the invitation — is to drink our fill of the Source, which is Christ, spill over to bless the world, and then return to the Source for a fresh in-filling.  This is our movement, our rhythm, our dance.  Over and over again.  This is where we begin and end and begin again.  ‘Love one another as I have loved you.’ ‘Abide in my love.’  These are finally not two separate actions.  They are one and the same.  One ‘impossible’ commandment to save the world.  It’s all about love.”[vi] 

That is our invitation today – to become love and to abide in love.  Perhaps in reverse order:  maybe we need to abide in Jesus’ love in order to know how to love.  But either way, we repetitively and circularly are invited to love – to love as Christ has loved.  Loving will be hard, loving will be messy, loving will be wearying.  But loving will also be beautiful, loving will life-giving, loving will be transformative – certainly of the other, but mostly of ourselves.  We can do that hard, messy, beautiful, sacred work by returning to the source of love and strength.  We can love as Jesus loves because Jesus first loved us.  Amen.

[i] John 1.1-3.

[ii] John 15.9-10.

[iii] John 13.34.

[iv] Karoline Lewis, as explained in the podcast “#963: Sixth Sunday of Easter – May 5, 2024” Sermon Brainwave, April 28, 2024, as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/podcasts/963-sixth-sunday-of-easter-may-5-2024 on May 2, 2024

[v] Debie Thomas, “It’s All About Love,” May 2, 2021, as found at https://www.journeywithjesus.net/essays/3003-it-s-all-about-love on May 3, 2024.

[vi] Thomas.

Sermon – John 10.11-18, E4, YB, April 21, 2024

01 Wednesday May 2024

Posted by in Sermons

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , ,

In a few moments, we will baptize Abby and Laela, sisters who are ages 6 and 7 respectively.  What’s interesting about a baptism for candidates who are not infants is there is much more cognition, curiosity, and craving.  In a sense, Abby and Laela understand more profoundly that their baptism is a sacrament of belonging – a welcoming into full membership in the body of Christ.  One of Hickory Neck’s strongest gifts is the powerful gift of welcome.  You talk to any newer or longer-term member, and they will likely tell you that Hickory Neck’s warm welcome was what drew them in and made them linger.  There was a sense of inclusion and care that made them want to stay.

For a community so skilled in welcoming and especially as a community who will be welcoming Abby and Laela today, we hear a powerful word from John’s gospel about life with the Good Shepherd.  For people familiar with the lectionary, the fourth Sunday of Easter, affectionally known as Good Shepherd Sunday, is a favorite Sunday.  Every year on this Sunday we hear about Jesus’ proclamation of being the Good Shepherd.  This year’s text from John tells us how Jesus the Good Shepherd lays down his life for the sheep; how Jesus will protect the sheep; how he knows the sheep and the sheep know him; and that there are other sheep that do not even belong to the fold that Jesus will bring into the beloved fold.  When we hear a text like this, we get a warm-fuzzy feeling[i] – the kind of feeling of protected belonging that we want Abby and Laela to always feel with Jesus and the church community.  That feeling of care and belonging has inspired artwork, song, liturgies, and sermon alike.  This Good Shepherd Sunday reminds all of us of what inspired us to keep coming back to this modern incarnation of the Good Shepherd’s fold here at Hickory Neck.

The challenge about the warm-fuzzies that come with belonging is that chasing a sense of belonging can become consumeristic:  a pursuing of a feeling that is received without any expectation of reciprocity.  The pursuit of belonging makes sense.  As one scholar suggests, “Forming authentic and holistic community is hard work – we dole out parts of ourselves in stingy bits and pieces, avoid being vulnerable with each other, hold back our feelings and thoughts, are afraid to confront each other, judge each other without mercy, hold grudges, set impossibly high standards for ourselves and each other…We have a difficult time trusting each other,” making real and life-giving community hard.[ii]  But belonging with Jesus and within the faith community is not something that is just received.  Belonging comes with obligation.  No longer are we individuals feeling alone – now we are a part of a larger whole.  Though beautiful, that whole does not work without each of its members.  Receiving the warm-fuzzy feeling of belonging results in the action of giving:  of contributing in your own right to the community.[iii]    

The good news is that although we use language about welcome at Hickory Neck, we actually mean belonging.  Yes, we were likely greeted warmly, maybe given a welcome gift or sent a greeting by mail soon after our first visit, and often we were recognized and engaged after the service or at Coffee Hour.  But I cannot tell you the number of people at Hickory Neck who have also told me about how accessible involvement and even leadership are here.  From stories of being recruited to lead Fall Festivals within the first year of membership, to hopping in as an usher or reader, to being invited to a Bible Study, service opportunity, or a Foyer Group, to becoming a financial supporter of programming:  you are not just welcomed here – you are invited into belonging here.  Though we may not use the strong word of “obligation” or “responsibility,” we teach through our behavior that warm welcome means full membership in the body of Christ.  We join in not because we have to, but because the warmth of the Good Shepherd’s inclusion of all overwhelms us into wanting to give back – both here inside these walls and outside these walls in the wider community.

And that is what we have been teaching Abby and Laela about baptism.  Today, as the water is poured over their heads and the oil rubbed into their foreheads, they will be welcomed into full membership in the body of Christ.  And even though age six and seven might seem too young for the “obligations of membership in the body,” we need their gifts just as much as they need the gift of belonging.  So, when they bring forward the communion elements, or participate in Godly Play, or join in singing and song, they make our community complete.  They remind us of the broadness of God’s inclusion, the power of being known, and the resultant discipleship that springs out of all of us – no matter size, age, or ability.  Today, the Good Shepherd welcomes Abby and Laela into the fold – into the body of Christ.  Today, Abby and Laela invite us to renew our sense of belonging in that same fold and all that belonging entails.  And for that, we give thanks to God.  Amen.

[i] As described by Matt Skinner, on the Sermon Brainwave podcast, “#961: Fourth Sunday of Easter – April 21, 2024,” April 14, 2024, as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/podcasts/961-fourth-sunday-of-easter-april-21-2024 on April 18, 2024.

[ii] Barbara J. Essex, “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Year B, Vol. 2 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2008), 451.

[iii] As described by Karoline Lewis, on the Sermon Brainwave podcast, “#961: Fourth Sunday of Easter – April 21, 2024,” April 14, 2024, as found at https://www.workingpreacher.org/podcasts/961-fourth-sunday-of-easter-april-21-2024 on April 18, 2024.

Sermon – John 20.19-31, E2, YB, April 7, 2024

01 Wednesday May 2024

Posted by in Sermons

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , , , ,

Photo credit: Hickory Neck Episcopal Church. Reuse with permission only.

For those of you who have worked with me for a while now, you know that I am easily excited by new ideas.  So, when Ed and Tyler suggested the Sunday after Easter for Quinton’s baptism, I excitedly said, “Yes!”  I knew we would be still experiencing the high of Holy Week and Easter from last week, I knew that baptisms are traditionally celebrated throughout Eastertide, and I knew having another reason to celebrate this Sunday would be fun.  What I failed to double-check was the lectionary.  As soon as I saw the gospel for today, I groaned.  Who wants to talk about Doubting Thomas when we are performing a sacrament of belief and belonging?!?

At first glance, John’s Gospel text today, is in fact, a terrible text for baptism.  First of all, the disciples are making a very poor showing about what the community of faith is supposed to look like.  You would think after seeing the empty tomb and hearing Mary Magdalene’s testimony, “I have seen the Lord,” the disciples would be hitting the ground running, doing the work of spreading the good news, or at least throwing a raucous party.  Instead, we find the disciples huddled in a locked room, cowering in fear.  The text says they are afraid of the Jewish leaders, perhaps afraid the same people who killed Jesus would try to kill them too.  But I think there is more to their fear.  I think they are afraid to face others, because they feel they have failed.  Perhaps they believe their pick for Messiah did not seem to be the Messiah after all.  I think they are also behind those locked doors because they are ashamed that they failed to protect Jesus, to keep him alive.[i]   Those locked doors are not just for safety – those locked doors are for hiding the shame, the disappointment, and the fear of facing others that the disciples have. 

And then we have the famous Doubting Thomas.  That we even call him “Doubting Thomas” is indication enough of the communal disapproval of his behavior.  Why couldn’t he just believe?  If not Mary Magdalene, at least his fellow disciples, who use the same words as Mary’s own testimony, “We have seen the Lord.”[ii]  Even Jesus seems to disapprove when he asks, “Have you believed because you have seen me?  Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.”[iii]  We do not exactly seem to be setting the stage well for little Quinton, or anyone new to the Church today.

But the more I thought about this text, and the more I read, the more I realized this is actually the perfect text for someone new to the community of faith.  As little Quinton grows up, I do not want him to think that faith is about perfectly believing, perfectly behaving Christians, who perfectly go to Church.  And although I want Quinton to know about doubt and to have a super healthy sense of curiosity and questioning, the truth is our labeling of Thomas as “Doubting Thomas,” gets in the way of what John is trying to teach new believers.  Instead, New Testament scholar Karoline Lewis explains, “The primary definition of the term doubt, however, has to do with uncertainty.  Uncertainty, as a category of belief, does not really exist in the Fourth Gospel.  One is either certain or not certain; in the light or in the dark.  Jesus invites Thomas to move from darkness to light, from lack of relationship to intimacy.  There is no middle ground with it comes to believing in Jesus.”[iv] 

Now, stay with me on this, because I realize that dichotomy sounds even worse than doubting.  Instead, what John’s gospel is doing is not about exclusion, but about radical inclusion.  John is not conveying something about belief but about incarnation:  “to be incarnated demands relationship.  As a result, you are either in one community or another, but you cannot be not in community.  Life, especially abundant life, is dependent on the reality of multiple expressions of connectivity and belonging, whether that be on-on-one or in various sizes of communities…Even God was not alone in the beginning…”  So, when Thomas says, “My Lord and my God,” he is not talking about his own belief or even an individualized theology, but rather “the intimacy this Gospel imagines between believer and Jesus…”  As Lewis goes on to say, “To give witness to a personal relationship with Jesus is immediately to enter into a community of intimacy between Jesus, God, the Paraclete (a fancy word for Holy Spirit[v]), and the believer and between the believer and the new community, the flock, that Jesus as the Word made flesh has made possible for the world.”[vi]

One this day, when Thomas the Twin teaches us all about what belief really means – that is, incarnate, intimate relationship with God and with one another – I cannot imagine a better word for us today.  When we baptize Quinton today, we invite him into the relationships already present in this community – the real ones that sometimes cower in shame and doubt – but also the ones that lead to abundant life and blessing.  When we pour water over his head and rub oil on his forehead and commit to supporting him and one another in this journey of faith, we are claiming him not as someone who will always have things figured out – because we do not always have things figured out.  But we do commit to the intimacy of relationship:  with the three persons of the Godhead, with one another, and with the community of faith.  I cannot think of a better reminder on this second Sunday in Easter as we deepen our own intimacy with the risen Lord than to baptize and reaffirm our baptisms – as we acclaim today, “I will! (with God’s help).”  Amen.

[i] M. Craig Barnes, “Crying Shame,” Christian Century, vol. 121, no. 7, April 6, 2004, 19. 

[ii] Karoline M. Lewis, John:  Fortress Biblical Preaching Commentaries (Minneapolis:  Fortress Press, 2014), 248.

[iii] John 20.29.

[iv] Lewis, 249.

[v] My words, not Lewis’ words.

[vi] Lewis, 250.

Sermon – John 20.1-18, ED, YB, March 31, 2024

01 Wednesday May 2024

Posted by in Sermons

≈ Leave a comment

Tags

, , , , , , , , , , ,

The funny thing about clergy families is that they have a unique gift of not caring at all about your ego as the clergyperson.  This week, in the midst of nightly worship commitments, and school wrapping up before Spring Break, and me trying to wrap up commitments before our family takes some time off, I share with the family how I was still struggling a bit with my Easter sermon.  A beloved member of my family said, “You’re worried about an Easter sermon?” “Oh, yes!” I explained.  “It’s a big day.  The sermon needs to be good!”  Said unnamed family member looked at me, dumbfounded, and said to me, in a way that only a family member can, “You know nobody comes to church on Easter because of the sermon.” 

Now as a preacher, you can imagine my ego was a little bruised.  But the more I thought about the observation, the more I realized the observation was right.  We come to church on Easter for a whole host of reasons.  We come to church on Easter because that is what our family has always done, and the continued observation of Easter somehow connects us to the past, present, and future, creating a sense of belonging and identity.  We come to church on Easter, because we long for a good word – a reminder that even in a tumultuous world, there is the promise of resurrection life, joy, and hope.  We come to church on Easter because we love the music, the flowers, the crowded seats, the Easter attire, and the experience of being a part of a community.  And some of us are not sure why we come to church on Easter, but we suspect, or at least hope, we will find something that can revive our weary souls. 

I suspect what most of us are hoping for today is an experience like Mary Magdalene’s.  I am not sure Mary knew why she went to the tomb that fateful day.  In John’s gospel, Mary is not there with spices to anoint Jesus’ body.  She does not bring flowers or some memento to leave at the tomb.  In fact, she comes to the tomb in darkness, before the morning light has arisen, perhaps in a fog of knowing she needs something but not sure what that something might be.  And then, not unlike the chaos that may have been your morning to get here on time and half-way presentable, Mary’s life gets thrown into chaos.  An empty tomb means she and the disciples run around like chickens with their heads cut off.  Later, Mary finds herself bemoaning to angels and a stranger alike that she just wants Jesus’ body – a physical reminder of all the horror and love and pain that has happened.  And in the midst of this chaos, a simple, profound thing happens.  Mary is called by her name.[i]  And her world gets turned on its head.

There is something very powerful about being called by your name.  We will frequent restaurants or coffee shops because we love being recognized by name by our favorite barista or shop owner – not unlike that old show Cheers whose intro talked about going to a place, “where everybody knows your name.”  If you have ever received a blessing or healing prayer by a person who knew your name, you know the intimacy that is created between the two of you, and the power of hearing your name lifted up to God.  We even try to use nametags here at Hickory Neck because we know how wonderful being known by name feels.  Being known by name creates a sense of acceptance, affirmation, affection, and acknowledgement.[ii]  I can only imagine the rush of emotions when Jesus calls Mary by name today – not just the recognition of who Jesus is, but the reminder of how much he has loved her.

I suppose we should add that to the list of reasons why we come to church on Easter Sunday.  We want to be known too.  Perhaps we want to literally be called by name.  But perhaps we know just being here creates the same sense of belonging that being known by name creates.  When we sit in these seats today, we know that we are sitting next to someone who is longing for belonging too – who also rallied to get to church on time – maybe with kids in cute dresses, or maybe just pulling their aching bodies to church.  When we sit in the seats today, we know that we are surrounded by a group of people who also love having their senses overwhelmed – from the smell of fragrant lilies, to the joyous sound of song [laughter], to the taste of communion bread and wine, to the sight of fanfare and smiles, to the feel of another hand at the peace.  When we sit in these seats today, we know that we will be offered a word of joy, light, love, and hope – and we want our lives to be marked by that same sense of promise.

Now you may feel tempted today to take all that affirmation, encouragement, and joy, and go about the next days on your own personal high – as though the gifts you receive today are solely for you.  But what all this fanfare, acknowledgment, and hope are meant to do is to propel you out into the world.  When Mary is called by name, receiving the blessing of recognition and encouragement, she does not stay at the feet of the resurrected Jesus.  She becomes the first preacher in John’s gospel[iii].  “I have seen the Lord,” Mary says to the disciples.  Now I know some of you will go out from this place today and do just that – you will put on your Facebook page or your Instagram, “Alleluia, Christ is Risen!” or you will hug your neighbor and tell them what a joyous day you just had at church.  But for others of you, sharing today’s joy may take you a little more time, or may look a bit different than proclaiming, “I have seen the Lord,” to your favorite barista.  But what Mary invites us to do is find our own way of sharing the beautiful gift we receive today – to give someone else the gift of joy and hope, to quietly tell a friend what a cool experience this day was, or to simply call someone else by name – sharing that same sense of belonging and affirmation you receive today.   You came to church this Easter Sunday for something.  Mary invites you to give that something to someone else.  Amen.  Alleluia!

[i] Serene Jones, “Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Year B, Vol. 2 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2008), 378.

[ii] D. Cameron Murchison, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Year B, Vol. 2 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2008), 380.

[iii] Beverly Roberts Gaventa, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Year B, Vol. 2 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2008), 381.