A spark…

Tags

church, conversation, evangelism, God, Good News, grace

One of the things we have been looking at as a parish is how to more intentionally engage in evangelism.  The conversation has not been easy.  We have all been victim of an overzealous religious person who has made us feel uncomfortable.  A few of us have hidden behind closed curtains from someone knocking at our door to share their testimony.  Some of us have crossed on the opposite side of the street from the guy with a Bible, a loud voice, and a handful of tracts.  And of course, we ourselves have begun to overcompensate, avoiding talking about our faith altogether in non-church circles for fear of becoming “that guy.”

But we have been prayerfully working on seeing evangelism not as uncomfortable, out-of-touch haranguing, but as a grace-filled conversation about the goodness and grace of God in our lives.  We have been prayerfully considering how we can create the environment for such conversations.  And we looking at ways to meet people where they are, knowing that we cannot expect to share the Good News if we stay closed up in our church.

Perhaps without even realizing it, this week we did just that.  Last Wednesday, we gathered with people of faith throughout the Plainview-Old Bethpage community and made 495 sandwiches to feed our hungry neighbors.  We shared the work together, we got to know people from other faith traditions and communities, and we prayerfully thought of the men and women whose lives would be touched by our strokes of peanut butter and jelly.

Then, on Monday, over twenty of our parishioners gathered to walk in the Plainview Memorial Day Parade.  I watched as parishioners, clad in St. Margaret’s gear, shook the hands of old friends, had conversations with strangers, and waved with gusto.  As we walked, I overheard onlookers wondering about our Garden of Eatin’ (check out our Facebook page for our fun shirts, props, and banners), talking about where we were located, and not-so-subtly realizing I was the priest.

After the walk, parishioners re-gathered at the church, and planted our Grow to Give Garden.  Our garden is located near the road that our church faces, and I can see that the garden might be a great invitation into our property.  The garden already has brought young and old together.  I am hoping it might also bring parishioner and non-parishioner together too.

This week, we started the work of evangelism.  My hope is that the experience gives us some energy around keeping it up.  I am already considering what local establishments I might begin to frequent when I do my sermon preparation.  The Vestry is beginning to ask some of our committees and groups to consider moving off campus to better be seen by and to encounter our community.  Our work is just beginning, but this weekend gave me the spark to keep it up.  See you at a local Starbucks, Cosi, or Panera soon!!

Sermon – John 16.12-15, TS, YC, May 26, 2013

Tags

God, Holy Spirit, Jesus, Sermon, spiritual journey, Trinity, truth

When I was in seminary, I audited a class entitled, “Living Biblically:  Money, Sex, Power, Violence, and The Meaning of Life.”  The title alone made me want to take the class.  The class spent the quarter studying Jesus’ words and actions for some clues.  Of course, I did not leave the class with all the answers.  But the one thing that stuck with me from the class was this:  when looking for answers to “What would Jesus do?” you have to look at not only what Jesus says, but also what he does.  That may sound simple and obvious enough, but what we slowly began to realize is that what Jesus says and what Jesus does are often opposites.  So, if you look at what Jesus says, you find some pretty harsh words about how to live life and who is to be judged.  But if you look at what Jesus does, you find him living in a much more permissive and forgiving way.  We came to see Jesus as one with high standards and a low threshold for forgiveness and grace.  Of course, that did not mean we got all of our answers to our 21^st Century questions about money, sex, power, violence, and the meaning of life, let alone answers to our questions about science, technology, and our modern world.

That is why I find our gospel lesson today so comforting.  Our lesson from John today is part of Jesus’ farewell speech with his disciples – his last words during that Last Supper.  You can imagine the hushed room, the feeling of something ominous approaching, the questions by the disciples, and the ever-patient Jesus trying to explain all the things they need to know.  Finally, Jesus utters these words today, “I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now.”  You can almost hear the frustration in his voice, as if he is saying, “I wish I could explain everything to you now fully, but I just can’t.”  In the midst of the weight of such a conversation, Jesus promises something better than they could possibly imagine:  the Holy Spirit.  Jesus explains that Holy Spirit will come and will continue to guide the disciples.  All of the things that they cannot understand now, all of the things Jesus cannot say, will be revealed to them through the Holy Spirit in the years to come.  Though Jesus will be physically absent from them, Jesus will be continually present with them through the Holy Spirit, revealing truth and perhaps even revealing what Jesus would do.

I think why I find this passage so comforting is not simply because we are promised the presence of God with us.  What I find comforting about this passage is that truth is not locked away in some book or some person from two thousand years ago.  Truth is accessible here and now through the Holy Spirit.  We call our scriptures the Living Word because the Holy Spirit enlivens the Word and speaks truth to us, even today.  This is also why we still have the community of faith– because the Holy Spirit creates for us fresh encounters with the revelation of Jesus.[i]  Jesus knew that our changing circumstances would bring new questions and challenges that would require us to think afresh, and Jesus promises the Holy Spirit will get us through.

On this Trinity Sunday, I am grateful that we get this passage.  Although we just had Pentecost, the Church is not always great about talking about the Holy Spirit.  Sure, we regularly say the Trinitarian combination “Father, Son, and Holy Spirit,” liturgically, but rarely do we give the Holy Spirit the credit the Holy Spirit is due.  I think the challenge is that we fear the Holy Spirit a little too much.  When we hear talk of the Holy Spirit, we are afraid someone is going to start acting strangely and then claim they were slain in the Spirit.  We are afraid that “the movement of the Holy Spirit” is just code for the movement that a particular person or group wants.  We are afraid our worship will become some seventies, hippie version of God to whom we cannot relate.  I know we are afraid or at least uncomfortable because I cannot remember the last Episcopalian I know, including myself, who began a prayer addressing the Holy Spirit as opposed to God or Jesus.

But this is how I know that the Holy Spirit is still present among us, guiding us to all truth.  One of the primary areas I see the movement of the Holy Spirit is in the practice of preaching.  I always say that somewhere between the preacher and the congregation is the Holy Spirit.  Preaching does not work without the Holy Spirit.  I cannot tell you the number of times I have sat down after preaching a sermon and thought that the sermon was probably the worst one I have ever preached.  But without fail, the sermons I think are the worst often receive positive feedback.  I also cannot tell you the number of times I have gotten into the pulpit with a specific message in mind, only to have a parishioner speak to me later about how something I said was so meaningful to them – only I swear I never said what they think I said.  Somehow the Holy Spirit helps the preacher to glean truth, and the Holy Spirit helps the congregation to glean truth.  Those truths may not be the same truths, but they are truths that lead us closer to God – which is what Jesus promises in our gospel lesson anyway.

Now, I do not mean to insinuate that this revelation only comes through preaching.  Revelation comes throughout our lives together.  The revelation of the Holy Spirit comes in that friend, coworker, or schoolmate who says something so profound that their words stick with you for weeks, and leads you into deeper prayer.  The revelation of the Holy Spirit comes in Bible Study or in an outreach activity when some experience leaves you with a profound sense of the holy in your life.  The revelation of the Holy Spirit comes in the mouths of our children, who say the most sacred and surprising things that open up new truth in unexpected ways.

This is why we dedicate an entire Sunday to celebrating the Trinity.  Without the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit, we would not experience our spiritual journey in the same way.  Perhaps we are not truly comfortable labeling the Holy Spirit in our lives or praying to the Holy Spirit, but that does not mean that the Holy Spirit is not ever present in our journey – in fact, making that journey possible in the first place.  We take today to celebrate the mysterious nature of all three persons who make up the one substance of the Trinity[ii] because only through this relational nature of the Trinity is our faith enlivened and is truth revealed.  So today, your invitation is to figure out your invitation.  Perhaps your invitation is to pray with a person of the Trinity that you have been avoiding for a while.  Perhaps your invitation is to listen for the ways that the Holy Spirit is revealing truth to you.  Or perhaps your invitation is to see the movement of the Holy Spirit through others this week.  On this Trinity Sunday, there is no way of avoiding invitation.  The question is which invitation is for you?  Amen.

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[i] Eugene C. Bay, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 3 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 46.

[ii] Philip Turner, “Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 3 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 44.

Homily – Genesis 1.14-19, Nicolaus Copernicus and Johannes Kepler, May 23, 2013

Tags

Copernicus, faith, God, homily, Kepler, mind, science

Today we celebrate Nicolaus Copernicus and Johannes Kepler.  Both lived in the 1500s, although they were born about a century apart.  If you remember, Copernicus was the first to put out the theory that the sun, rather than the earth, was the center of the universe, around which the planets rotated.  Kepler helped solidify this theory.  Both men saw no conflict between their theory and their faith.  Copernicus dedicated his work to the Pope, and Kepler saw in the relationship between the sun and the rotating planets the image of God.  But as you may also remember, religious thought was uncomfortable with this idea.  A great debate ensued, as though science and religion could not operate together.

Truthfully, I am not sure we have ever recovered from this debate.  There are still Christians who believe faith and science are not compatible.  Many centuries after Copernicus and Kepler, we are still pushing scientific minds away from the church.  I think part of the challenge is that our favorite stories from Scripture, especially like the part of the creation story we heard today, do not always make logical sense.  As we become older, we fear that if we start questioning those stories, our whole faith might unravel.

But the saints of God have been telling us differently for centuries, if we are willing to hear.  Copernicus saw no conflict between his theory and the authority of Scripture.  Kepler was able see the image of God in his work.  “Both men, through their life’s work, testified to the extraordinary presence of God in creation and maintained, in the face of both religious and scientific controversy, that science can lead us more deeply into an understanding of the workings of the Creator.”

Just over our vacation, we had coffee with an old friend.  She had been struggling with her faith because she saw so many discrepancies between what she knew as a scientist and teacher and as a woman of faith.  In our conversation, I was reminded of a campaign the Episcopal Church ran many years ago.  It said, “Jesus died to take away your sins, not your mind.”  Like the beauty and wonder of this place we live in that God created, God also created us in God’s image.  God invites us every day to live fully into the gifts, talents, and mind that God has given us.  Amen.

 

Seeds of hope…

Tags

change, garden, God, hope, love

This weekend our parish will plant the vegetables in our Garden of Eatin’ – a Grow to Give Garden that will feed our neighbors in need.  As we prepare for the day, I am overwhelmed with emotion – pride, satisfaction, joy, and hope.  A garden to feed others may seem simple enough, but this project has been a bit of a microcosm of what our parish is facing in general.  We are a tough parish that has survived some hard times.  The tenor of our parish has been transformed in the last couple of years into a place of hopefulness and joy, but our history has not left us unscarred.  Out of our history, and perhaps with a little human nature sprinkled in, change has become something to dread rather than to eagerly anticipate.  Of course every church, and probably every individual, does not actually like change, but I believe our tenacious will to survive has resulted in a deeper desire to control, and therefore a fear of change.

From that perspective then, you can see why I am so excited about this garden.  This garden represents the best and the worst of us.  At our worst, we worry about using our property in an alternative and perhaps detrimental way.  If there is to be change, we want to make sure every single detail has been considered by every single person.  We fear the long-term impact of taking on a project that will need long-term care.  But at our best, we see the wealth of our eleven acres and want to share that wealth in a new way.  We see neighbors who need food that we can grow.  We know we will get to know each other a lot better with dirty hands and sweaty brow than we might in our Sunday best.  And we dream that our labor might be a tangible witness to the power of God’s love in our community.

So for me, digging into that dirt, and planting those seeds and seedlings this weekend, is a proclamation that we will be the best version of ourselves.  We will take the uncertain road, we will submit to change, and we will open our hands to our God who will use those hands for good.  A garden may not seem like a big deal to others, but to me, this garden is a bold statement about who we have been, who we are, and who we want to be.

Sermon – Acts 16.16-34, E7, YC, May 12, 2013

Tags

bondage, freedom, Jesus, scripture, Sermon

If we were to break out a flip chart today and create two columns – one for those in bondage and one for those who are free – where would our main characters from Acts go?  At first glance, our “those in bondage” column might start with the slave-girl.  We are not even given her name.  She is simply called the slave-girl.  And we know from the story that she is a double slave – a slave to her owners who use her for money and a slave to the spirit of divination inside her.  Another addition to the “bondage” category might be Paul and Silas.  They are thrown into jail midway through our story, which clearly puts them in the bondage category.  Plus, the slave-girl calls them “slaves of the Most High God.”  The other column in our flip chart is those who are free.  We have several for that column.  There are those who own the slave-girl.  They are free to collect money for someone else’s performance, and they are free to get someone thrown in jail.  The judges who throw Paul and Silas into jail are also free – free to choose who is punished and who is not.  Finally, we might put the jailer into the free column as well.  He is a man with a steady, respectable job, who has power over those in prison.  So in the “bondage” column we have the slave girl, Paul, and Silas.  And in the “free” column we have the owners, the judges, and the jailer.

Most of us would certainly prefer to be in the “free” column on this chart.  The owners of the slave girl obviously have social capital and an income source.  They have influence and power, and up until Paul and Silas come along, they have the comforts of wealth.  The judges also have a great deal of respect and power in the community.  They are charged with keeping order in the community and protecting the community’s way of life.  Their roles in the community are admirable and secure.  Even the jailer has a clear sense of identity and purpose.  He may not have wealth and prestige, but he has a secure job and a sense of clear identity in the community.  He has a role that is understood and a vocation that is stable.  Meanwhile, the slave-girl is nothing like what we hope for ourselves.  Being possessed by a spirit and being owned by another individual do not usually make the top of our lists for happiness and fulfillment.  And in no way do we want to be like Paul and Silas, who not only seem to be homeless rebel-rousers, they also are physically brutalized and imprisoned.

The people in the “free” column are the people we most likely follow in our lives.  We want to be people with more money, with secure sources of income, and with power and influence.  We like independence and not being forced to rely on anyone else.  But we get so caught up in longing for these things in life that we sometimes forget the only desire that will make us whole – the desire for a deep relationship with Jesus Christ.  Even churches get trapped in desiring the wrong kind of freedom.  “If we just had as much money as St. Swithin’s, then everything would be fine.”  But the truth is that this kind of desire is never fulfilled.  Trust me, I have served at St. Swithin’s, and St. Swithin’s has just as many problems and stresses as we do every time budget talks come around.

Of course, like any good Bible story, appearances are not always as they seem.  The truth is that although we might put the slave-girl, Paul, and Silas in the “bondage” column, their true home is in the “free” column.  The slave-girl already knows the truth that no one else can see – that Jesus is the way to salvation.  And when she shouts that long and loudly enough, she is not only freed of her possession, she is free of the bondage of slavery – because her owners can no longer use her as they did before.  Even Paul and Silas, who are locked in jail, are in that “free” column.  What person, after being brutally whipped and thrown into a cold cell, can be found praying and singing praises to God in the middle of the night?  Only someone who is so free of the bondage of this world can be able to praise God in the midst of earthly suffering.

And of course, if those in our “bondage” column are actually in the “free” column, the same is true of those we originally put in the “free” column.  Those owners, who seem to have the earthly freedom of wealth, have actually become slaves to their wealth.  They are so enslaved to that wealth that when their source of income is freed, they lash out, bringing pain and suffering down upon others.  They cannot see the gift of freedom for the slave-girl; they only see the consequences for themselves.  The judges are no freer than the owners.  They are so enslaved to their rigid rules that they cannot see the inherent injustice that the slave-girl has faced for so many years.  Even the jailer is not truly free.  He is so caught up in his identity as a jailer that he is willing to take his life for his job.  He is ready to kill himself for what he thinks is a failure on his part than to see how this job has taken over his sense of identity.[i]

We do this too.  We are enslaved by our economies, our ways of doing things, and our senses of roles.  Think about the last party or gathering you attended.  What is one of the first questions someone asks to get to know a stranger?  “So, what do you do?”  We ask this question because our job or our role in society defines us in some way.  Several years ago, a friend of mine was going through a real low point in life.  She quit her job because she knew the job was not what she was called to do.  But she also had no idea what was next.  She was bold enough to say “no” to the old job, but was left clueless about what would be her next step.  This all happened when she was relatively new to a community, and still had not found a church home.  She confided in me that she had stopped looking for a church home because she got so tired of stumbling through an answer at coffee hour when she was repeatedly asked, “So, what do you do?”

So if we are enslaved by our ways of being, how can we get out of our bondage?  Our first cue comes from Paul and Silas.  Paul and Silas could have easily fled that jail when the earthquake happened.  They could have sped past the jailer, and been focused solely on their own self-preservation.  But we see that there is a peace in Paul and Silas that comes from true freedom.  Instead of weeping and plotting in that cell, they sing and pray to God.  Instead of running when the doors fling open, they ensure that the jailer is okay.  Instead of demonizing the jailer, they offer him baptism.  This is what true freedom looks like.[ii]

How do we get to this true freedom?  The jailer gives us the second cue.  The jailer asks Paul a simple question, “What must I do to be saved?”  In order to be saved, to gain that true sense of freedom, we must ask for help like the jailer asks for help that day.  Whether we ask a friend, a stranger, or God, we must ask for help.  This is not always easy for us.  We will have to risk our pride and we will have to trust others.[iii]  But asking for help is that first step in the journey out of the “bondage” column and into the “freedom” column.

Our invitation today is two-fold.  First, our invitation is to consider the ways in which we have become enslaved – the ways of being that we have assumed that have created a life of bondage.  That recognition leads to our second invitation – the invitation to ask for help, to trust in another to guide us into the freedom that can only come from Christ.  When we do those two things, we can know the peace of freedom that we see in scripture today.  Amen.

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[i] David G. Forney, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 2 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 526.

[ii] L. Gregory Jones, “Come, Lord Jesus,” Christian Century, vol. 109, no. 16, May 6, 1992, 485.

[iii] Frederick Buechner, as found on http://www.frederickbuechner.com/content/weekly-sermon-illustrations-jailer on May 7, 2013.

On mothers…

Tags

joy, Mother's Day, mothers, prayer, sorrow

The older I have become, the more complicated Mother’s Day seems for me.  I grew up with an amazing mother.  She made tremendous sacrifices for our family, she was incredible witness to what serving Christ and others meant, and she was a caring and loving presence in my life.  As I have become an adult, our relationship has naturally changed.  We do not agree on a variety of things, but I have a deep love and admiration for her – more than I could probably ever explain or express to her or to you.

But as I have become an adult, the idea of motherhood has shifted.  When I moved away from my family, other women became mothers to me too.  I have become a mother myself and now see how incredibly difficult the job is.  And I have watched friends and family lose beloved mothers – sometimes at a very young age, and sometimes at a much more mature age.  The loss never goes away.

But I have also seen the darker side of mothers.  I have come to know individuals who were abused by their mothers.  I have come to know women who want to be mothers but cannot.  I have come to know mothers whose relationships with their children have become estranged and irreparably damaged.

So every year, given that Mother’s Day falls on a Sunday, I find myself torn about Mother’s Day.  I find myself wanting to celebrate the goodness of mothers – however we define motherhood.  And I find myself wanting to acknowledge how wholly painful this day is to others.  The best I can do is be honest about that tension and pray for all of us – that we somehow manage to hold our joy and our sorrow in tension this Mother’s Day.  And for all of us, I offer up this prayer:  https://dl.dropboxusercontent.com/u/42236079/The%20wide%20spectrum%20of%20mothering%20%28resource%29.pdf

Sermon – Acts 16.9-15, E6, YC, May 5, 2013

Tags

disciples, Easter, evangelism, Good News, Holy Spirit, Jesus, Lydia, Paul, Sermon, spiritual practice

This Eastertide, I have been thinking a lot about evangelism.  The bishop asked us to have a conversation about our mission and evangelism efforts here in Plainview during Eastertide.  The Vestry just started reading a book about evangelism as a spiritual discipline.  And our Vestry retreat in April was about the tangible practices of evangelism we could employ.  For a topic that makes most Episcopalians very uncomfortable, evangelism seems to be everywhere I turn.  But as I was thinking about the theme of evangelism this Eastertide, I realized that the theme’s prominence makes quite a bit of sense.  Eastertide is sort of the “so what?” of the resurrection.  Throughout Eastertide, we are hearing the stories of the disciples’ reaction to the resurrection, and what life was like after this pivotal moment.  What better time to think about evangelism than while the disciples are doing just that – taking the Good News of Jesus’ resurrection and sharing that Good News with others.

What I appreciate then about our lesson from Acts today is that the practice of evangelism in biblical times was not exactly precise.  You would think that the book of Acts would tell the story of how after Jesus’ death the disciples knew exactly how to spread the Good News.  You would think after all those years with Jesus, the disciples had clear instructions for moving forward, and were able to draw up a structured evangelism plan.  But our stories from Acts this year have included nothing of the sort.  So far we have heard stories of a brutal persecutor of Christians being dramatically converted, of Peter realizing that Gentiles should also be included in the Christian community, and today we hear of this foreign woman of power coming to Christ.  I am pretty sure if the disciples sat down and planned their target audience for the Good News, Paul, Cornelius, and Lydia would not have been on their list.  And yet, this is the story of evangelism we hear during Eastertide: a story of unlikely and unexpected people hearing and responding to the word of God.

On the surface, this sounds like good news to us.  These stories of conversion give a sense of confidence that no matter with whom we share the story of Jesus, they will be converted.  But looking at the end of the story glosses over the actual experiences of those on the evangelism journey.  If you remember, when Paul is converted, and his eyes are scaled over, the Christian who goes to talk with him is scared to death.  God tells him to go to Paul, but that is little assurance when that instruction means walking into the lair of a nasty murderer of Christians.  And for Peter, his interaction with Cornelius means that he must surrender all that has been familiar to him – the necessity of circumcision and all that he has known as being central markers of faithfulness – and let go of that familiarity.  Even with this interaction between Paul and Lydia today, Paul must take on a long journey based on a few words in a dream, only to find not a Macedonian man who is asking for help, but a foreign woman.[i]

These stories during Eastertide only highlight our own anxieties about evangelism.  As modern Christians, we have a hard enough time sharing the Good News with our friends and family.  Religion is one of those primary topics to avoid at dinner parties.  At the slightest hint of discomfort from someone else, we immediately drop the topic, not wanting to drive away a friend or colleague.  We do not want to become known as some Jesus freak who everyone avoids at parties.  Quite frankly, there are even times when we feel uncomfortable even talking about our faith within Church.  How in the world could we ever then expect ourselves to be able to talk to those who are hostile, unchurched, or strangers to us?

Before I went to seminary, I participated in a group at my parish called EFM – Education for Ministry.  The program was a four-year program where a small group of people gathered and each year covered a different topic – Old Testament, New Testament, Church History, and Theology.  During one of the scripture years, I was traveling by plane alone and I was sorely behind in my scripture reading.  I carried a large study bible with me, and that trip I found that I had more interesting conversation than you could ever imagine.  I had a slightly uncomfortable conversation with a young evangelical male who started telling me about his conservative views on scripture.  I had a businessman ask me if I was a minister or theology student.  When I told him no, he seemed bewildered as to why I would be reading the Bible, and kept eyeing me suspiciously the rest of that flight.  I had a middle-aged woman start telling me about her church and Bible Studies she had enjoyed.  And of course, there were tons of people who just stared at me warily trying to figure out what my angle was.  You would think the lesson from my trip would be, “Take a Bible with you, and see what evangelism opportunities it creates.”  But to be honest, I found myself wanting to never carry a Bible with me again in an airport.

I think why we get so uncomfortable about evangelism is we imagine evangelism as knocking on the doors of strangers, presenting some uncomfortable script, and then having doors slammed in our faces.  But our lesson from Acts today shows us a different model.  Our lesson from Acts tells us is that yes, evangelism will entail going places that may be uncomfortable or interacting with people you would not expect.  Paul goes on a long journey expecting to meet a man and gets something quite different.  Lydia goes seeking a place to pray with her familiar girlfriends and hears something entirely new.  But evangelism is not just about the evangelizer and the evangelizee.  The other major actor is the Holy Spirit.  The text tells us that the Lord opened Lydia’s heart to listen eagerly to Paul.  Evangelism is the intersection between human faithfulness and divine guidance.  “Paul would not have been guided to this place at this moment, were he not first of all at God’s disposal, open to being guided, sensitively attuned to being steered in one direction and away from all others.  Lydia would not have arrived at this place or time, had she not first of all been a worshiper of God, a seeker already on her way.  Peter does his part and Lydia hers, but it is God who guides all things and works in and through all things, not just for good but for what would otherwise be impossible.”[ii]

What is so liberating about this understanding of evangelism is that even if we thought we had to or could do evangelism on our own, we realize today that our work of evangelism only happens with God.  The book our Vestry is reading says that “Evangelism is a spiritual practice of expressing gratitude for God’s goodness and grace.”[iii]  That does not sound so bad, does it?  A spiritual practice of expressing gratitude for God’s goodness and grace.  He does not define evangelism as saving souls or self-righteously driving away your friends.  He says that evangelism is about expressing gratitude for God’s goodness and grace.  Knowing that definition of evangelism and knowing from scripture that evangelism happens as a partnership between our faithfulness and God’s guidance makes the whole enterprise seem a lot less scary.

I want you to take a moment to think about the best vacation you ever had.  Think about all the reasons why the vacation was wonderful and why you enjoyed yourself.  Think about the happiness and peace that the vacation brought you and the warm smile that just recalling the trip brings to your face.  Imagine the enthusiasm in your voice as you share that story with someone else and the great conversation your sharing might evoke.  Now, take a moment to imagine the same experience with a conversation about your faith journey.  Think about the great joy you have had in your relationship with God.  Think about the happiness and peace you have at times found in God.  And now think about the enthusiasm in your voice as you share that story with someone else and the incredible conversation your sharing might evoke.  That is all that happens between Paul and Lydia.  That is all that God invites you to do today.  Because the Holy Spirit will take care of rest.  Amen.

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[i] Eric Barreto, as found at http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=584.

[ii] Ronald Cole-Turner, “Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 2 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 476

[iii] David Gortner, Transforming Evangelism (New York: Church Publishing, 2008), 29.

Homily – Psalm 71.1-8, Bishop Athanasius, May 2, 2013

Tags

Athanasius, exile, God, homily, trust

Today we honor Athanasius, Bishop of Alexandria.  Athanasius is a major figure in Church history and in the theological world.  Rarely in the history of the Church has the course of its development been more significantly determined by one person than by Athanasius in the forth century.  Called “the pillar of the Church” and “the God-given physician of her wounds,” Athanasius was a key voice at the Council of Nicea in 325 as they debated the divinity of Christ.  Athanasius was the one who crafted the words from our Nicene Creed, “of one Being with the Father.”  When he became bishop in 328, he fearlessly defended Nicene Christology – five times he was exiled for his efforts.  We are indebted to Athanasius for his theological work – some of the most accessible I have read – and yet all of that work came at great personal cost.

I wonder if Athanasius ever prayed the Psalm we prayed today, “in you, O LORD, have I taken refuge; let me never be ashamed.  In your righteousness, deliver me and set me free; incline your ear to me and save me.  Be my strong rock, a castle to keep me safe…”  Surely once or twice in exile Athanasius cried out those words to God.

Of course, few of us know the desperation of being exiled from our country for defending a theological truth.  But we do know what it feels like to call out to God – to call out to God when we know we are doing the right thing, but we are paying for it.  When friends cut us off or family members shut us out, we too may have asked God to incline God’s ear to us.  We know what it feels like to only feel assurance through the God that is our strong rock.

What I like about Athanasius’ story is that during this last exile, the Emperor had to bring him back because the citizens threatened insurrection unless Athanasius was returned.  When Athanasius stood his ground, staked his claim on Truth, God, even in exile, was a castle to keep him safe.  What Athanasius’ experience reminds us of is that even in times that seem hopeless (like a fifth exile), God is with us, keeping us safe and making things better all the while.  Our invitation today is to remember that God is our strong rock and to let our mouths be “full of God’s praise and God’s glory all the day long”…even in exile!  Amen.

A confession…

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church, conversation, fear, God, judge, meaningful, teens

One of the things I find fascinating about teenagers, especially as a priest, is how difficult it can sometimes be to have a deep conversation.  I do not know if it is the collar, if I am particularly uncool, or if my timing is off (I suppose right before a Sunday 8:30 am Eucharist might not be the best time!), but there are times when I get one-word answers or blank looks.  Even in our confirmation class this year, I found that the teens were willing to ask big questions, but my responses did not evoke much extended dialogue.

So imagine my pleasant surprise this Sunday to see how our confirmands led worship.  They read scripture, served as ushers and chalicists, prayed the prayers of the people, and preached with confidence.  I was particularly nervous about the sermon because the preacher did not seem to want much guidance from me in her preparation.  But her sermon blew me away.  I found myself nodding at her insightful words, wanting to say aloud, “Yes!”  Her words were prophetic, perceptive, and powerful.

After service on Sunday, my perspective shifted a bit.  First, I began to realize that the way I judge meaning may not be a true indicator of meaning.  Just because I feel like I am not getting the feedback I am looking for from a teen does not mean that something meaningful is not happening.

But second, and much more importantly, I think that teens are getting a bad rep from people like me.  The truth is that I know an equal amount of adults who are unable or unwilling to have deep, meaningful conversations.  We are all a bit guarded about the things that make us uncomfortable, and our faith is probably one of the biggest areas in our lives that make us feel uncomfortable – because we are not sure how to explain some of the things we believe, or we worry someone will point out some basic biblical or theological concept that we do not know.  In fact, one of the major reasons that adults give for not wanting to teach teens is that they are afraid the teens will ask a question that they don’t know how to answer.

In order for us to have deeper, more meaningful, and more authentic conversations about our faith, our invitation today is to do a little more listening and a lot less judging.  Our invitation today is to let go of the fear we have of embarrassment and be honest about what we are still figuring out about the mystery of God.  Our invitation today is to remember that only through our collective sharing – from our three- to our thirteen- to our thirty- to our sixty-three-year-olds – will we begin to hear the fullness of God’s voice among us.

Homily – Mark 16.15-20, St. Mark the Evangelist, April 25, 2013

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evangelism, forgiveness, homily, Mark, redemption

Today we celebrate St. Mark the Evangelist, author of the Gospel according to Mark.  I have always loved Mark’s gospel.  His writing is so succinct that you have to run to keep up.  He gives very little detail at times, leaving the reader to use their imagination.  Mark feels like the Gospel for the 21st century:  quick snippets that you have to catch before they are gone.

What’s funny about celebrating Mark is that he is the same Mark who bails out on Paul in the book of Acts.  Paul, Barnabus and Mark were to go on a missionary journey, but Mark decided not to go.  Paul was so upset that he refused to travel with Mark on the next trip.  They eventually made up, but Mark is always that guy who turned his back on a missionary journey with Paul and Barnabus.

What I appreciate about this flaw is that Mark gives us all permission to be human, something we do not always give to ourselves.  We are a people who strive to be good Christians, to use the gifts God has given us.  When we fail, we beat ourselves up and wallow in guilt.  We can take more time to forgive ourselves than we take to forgive others.  And we see all our flaws with a magnifying glass – we know our failures better than anyone.

How perfect is it then that we get the gospel lesson for today?  Mark, the guy who bailed on a missionary journey, writes about Jesus’ commission to share the good news.  Mark’s inclusion of this text shows both his humility and his redemption.  If an abandoner of mission can be “Mark the Evangelist” and can write one of the four gospels about Jesus Christ, then there must be plenty of redemption for all of us.

When we were potty-training our daughter, we watched a Sesame Street video about potty training.  One of her favorite parts was a song by Elmo and Grover.  The chorus goes, “Accidents happen and that’s okay.”  Just the other day, I caught my daughter doing something she wasn’t supposed to.  When caught, she looked at me and said, “Accidents happen Mommy, and that’s okay.”  She took a lesson about using the potty and could make it a much larger concept about forgiveness and redemption.  If only we could do the same!  Amen.