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Monthly Archives: November 2013

Giving thanks…

27 Wednesday Nov 2013

Posted by jandrewsweckerly in Uncategorized

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breath, busy, God, quiet, thanks, Thanksgiving Day, worship

At 6:30 this morning, I got a call from the Chair of my Buildings and Grounds Committee.  He was worried about the amount of water we are getting here and asked if I would run over to the church to make sure the undercroft had not flooded overnight (as his basement at home had).  Luckily I was dressed, but our family was in the morning flurry of getting showers, eating breakfast, and making lunches.  I had hoped to sneak over to the church quietly, but as soon as my daughter found out what I was doing, she wanted to go too.  So we rushed to find her shoes and raincoat, I rushed to grab an umbrella, and we ran out the door.  About half-way to the church, I realized I had forgotten the church keys.  As I quickly tried to rush my 4-year old back to the house, I realized that my lack of church keys meant I also had left my house keys inside the house.  Of course, my husband was in the shower.  Needless to say, there was lots of doorbell ringing over the following five minutes.  Ah, the joys of a crazy, scattered priest and mother.

For this and so many other reasons, I am tremendously grateful that my husband suggested we take this Thanksgiving to just have a quiet holiday alone.  As an extrovert, my immediate response to his request was a bit of sadness and wistfulness – Thanksgiving is supposed to be about loud families or friends and yummy food.  But then I remembered how for the last several weekends in a row I have had multiple church commitments, how last week alone I had three night meetings, and how my husband I have felt like ships passing in the night these last several weeks.  I knew the wisdom behind his request, and so we have gathered a much smaller amount of food, and have plans to just be together as a family this weekend.  Well…and maybe clean the house and unpack some baby stuff.  But at least we are doing that together!

Courtesy of http://metropraise.blogspot.com/2012/11/the-history-of-thanksgiving-in-united.html

Courtesy of http://metropraise.blogspot.com/2012/11/the-history-of-thanksgiving-in-united.html

I know for most of you, Thanksgiving is not really about quiet and retreat.  That may feel like a foreign, if not uncomfortable, concept to you.  But even if you are planning to gather with your loud Uncle Joe or your nagging mother-in-law, I hope that you will take a moment to take a little breath, and remember in the quiet what Thanksgiving is really about.  Maybe you invite your family into prayer before the meal, maybe you invite everyone to share something they are grateful for, or maybe you just do your own self assessment of the bounty surrounding you on every side – of food, of shelter, of clothing, of laughter, of a God who loves and cares for you abundantly.  And if that is the only breath of thanksgiving you can afford on that day, then you have taken a sip of the pool of thanksgiving available to you.  And if you are thirsty for more, find a church holding a Thanksgiving Day service, and give yourself an entire hour of this kind of thankfulness.  It may be the greatest gift you give yourself this holiday season.

St. Margaret’s Church celebrates Holy Eucharist on Thanksgiving Day at 10:00 AM.  All are welcome!

Homily – Interfaith Thanksgiving Service, November 26, 2013

27 Wednesday Nov 2013

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culture, differences, faith, God, interfaith, praise, sacred, secular, Thanksgiving, Thanksgiving Day

I grew up in the South, where being a person of faith meant you were either a Baptist or a United Methodist.  It was not until well after college that I began to meet and really get to know a few individuals of other faiths – learning about both their cultural and religious experiences.  I even had an interfaith clergy support group back in Delaware – during which much of our time was spent discussing differences and similarities in polity and worship.

So I was thrilled when I heard there was an interfaith group here when we moved from Delaware to Plainview two years ago.  I was looking forward to who would be in the room, and finding an instant support group of fellow persons of faith.  So you can imagine my surprise when I, southerner that I was, went to my first meeting and realized that as a Christian, I was a minority in the room.  I do not think I have ever been in a room of clergy when I felt like there were significant portions of the conversation that I just did not understand – whether it was a particular holiday, a way of doing business, a language barrier, or knowing what to order at Ben’s.  I had always thought that interfaith differences were not that significance – if we are all persons of faith, surely that identity creates enough common ground for us to work together.  But the truth is that among the clergy, and perhaps among you as persons of faith, we are so steeped in our religious identity and culture, that we forget how particular that experience is to us – and how foreign that experience is to others.

That is why I love this service so much.  We have found a holiday that we as Americans can all recognize and celebrate – regardless of our faith background.  And yet, we as a community of faithful people gathered here tonight claim this day not as just a secular day to eat copious amounts and gather with family and friends, or even a day we can all commonly agree upon because we are Americans.  We claim this day as a sacred day – because we know that true thankfulness belongs to God – the source of sustenance and life itself.  In the Episcopal Church, we have a special liturgy set aside for Thanksgiving Day.  I never knew that until I became a priest.  In fact, at my first cure, I remember learning about the service and being totally annoyed, thinking, “What, I have to work on Thanksgiving too?!?”  But after my first Thanksgiving service, I knew why the Episcopal Church had set aside time for worship:  because the world around us tries fill this day with “stuff” other than true thanksgiving.  We slave over food, we fret about misbehaving family members, we jostle for position around the TV for the Macy’s parade or the football game, and some of us even go out shopping, especially as the stores try to lure us out of our homes to spend money.

But the community of faith makes another way for us.  The community of faith says that if we are going to dedicate an entire day to thanksgiving, let’s talk about what giving thanks is really about – to whom we really need to give thanks.  Tonight, we turn to scripture.  The palmist says, “It is good to give thanks unto the Lord, and to sing praises unto Thy name, O Most High.”[i]  We say together, “Praise God!  Bless God’s name!  For God is good; God’s steadfast love, [God’s hesed] is eternal; God’s faithfulness is for all generations.”[ii]

To be honest, praise and thanksgiving is not necessarily something that we are always good at doing.  We are really good at complaining to God, or asking God for things, or worrying to God.  But we often forget to truly praise God, to thank God for God’s abundant love and faithfulness.  I am not sure if our prayers to God tend toward being self-centered or we just are simply a culture who tends to complain or want something from God.  And I am not saying those kind of prayers do not have a time and place.  Our God can take all of that from us and more.  But when we turn our prayers to prayers of thanksgiving, we may be amazed at how we, and all that we are worried about, are transformed.  Centering ourselves in gratitude and thanksgiving puts even the direst of situations in perspective.  We remember not only that God is with us, but we also see those around us differently.  Our hearts grow in love and compassion simply by praising and thanking God.

Of course, there are practical implications to giving thanks to God.  Somehow that annoying uncle or nagging mother seems a lot more lovable when our hearts are rooted in this kind of thanksgiving.  Somehow that fallen soufflé or that dry turkey seems much less important than the fact that we have food at all – let alone shelter, warmth, and electricity.  That is the power of thanksgiving for us as a community of faith.  When we turn to God, from whom all blessings flow, we turn our hearts toward generosity as well.  We find ourselves buying extra food to feed our neighbor.  We find ourselves making time to serve others – whether making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with our interfaith brothers and sisters, or in some other way.  We find ourselves focusing less on ourselves, and more on the wonderful creation God has given to us – and in turn we find ourselves much more well-taken care of than when we were wrapped up in ourselves.

And so tonight, we set the tone for this national holiday.  We proclaim a true day of Thanksgiving – for the abundance of food, for the privilege of rest, for the blessing of life – but mostly for the God that gives us such life, who cares for us more than we deserve, and who loves us more than we can imagine.  We give thanks for a God beyond our full comprehension or knowing, and we give thanks for the interfaith community who, despite all our differences, collectively reminds us to whom we belong.  May your Thanksgiving holiday be a sacred time with the God who created you, sustains you, and loves you.  Amen.


[i] Ps. 92.1

[ii] Ps. 100.4-5

Sermon – Luke 23.33-43, P29, YC, November 24, 2013

27 Wednesday Nov 2013

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Christ the King, Jesus, John Rawls, justice, kingdom of God, kings, need, political science, Sermon, want

Today we celebrate Christ the King Sunday.  This is the last Sunday in the liturgical year, before we start the Church’s new year with Advent.  You would think on this last Sunday of the liturgical year, after having marked the birth of the Christ Child, journeyed through Epiphany, waded through Lent and Holy Week, celebrated Eastertide, and learned through Christ’s ministry during the season of Pentecost, that this very last Sunday would be some sort of culminating day – where we celebrate what the life in Christ is really about.  So what is our gospel lesson today?  A story of Christ on the cross, being ridiculed and humiliated.  Not exactly the happiest way to end the year, and certainly not the text most of us would choose to summarize a cycle celebrating Christ or even the way we might prepare ourselves for entering into Advent.

I have been thinking about Christ as King all week.  Not being able to shake that grim image of a bloodied, battered, berated king hanging on a cross, I began to think about what else we know about kings in Scripture.  The people of God never really had a king until they reached the Promised Land.  They saw the neighboring countries with their armies and their admirable kings, and they wanted one for themselves.  That was their first mistake.  God granted them a king to rule over them, but inevitably, the kings, like any humans, were flawed – some more than others.  Hence, there are four books in the Hebrew Scriptures about the kings who ruled and the judges who tried to correct their behavior.  Most of the kings were corrupted by power, money, and greed.  Many abused the people.  Even the most revered king, King David, was a bit of a mess.  He was the one who coveted Bathsheba, slept with her, and then killed her husband when he got her pregnant and realized he would not be able to get away with it.

Having been through a horrible patch of awful kings, the prophets predicted the coming of a Messiah – the king of kings and Lord of lords[i].  This king would be triumphant and would make the people of Israel dominant at last.  You can imagine that with such a great promise, the people of Israel are not too pleased with the man who finally claimed be the Messiah.  Nothing about Jesus says “king.”  He is nonviolent, hangs out with sinners of all sorts, and travels with a sorry band of misfits.  Even his grand entrance into Jerusalem where he is heralded as a king is not so grand – he rides in on a donkey, for goodness sake!  This could not possibly be the king that Yahweh had promised them.

And yet, this is exactly the king that God sends.  The Lord, who never wanted God’s people to have an earthly king anyway, makes a king that represents everything that is kingly:  a man who loves the poor and cares for the sick, a man who sees through the pretenses of the temple and calls for authenticity, a man who loves deeply and forgives infinitely.  So why are the people of God not excited about this king?  Why can they not love this countercultural king as much as the king they think they need?

When I was in college, one of the first Political Science classes I took was called Political Theory.  When we started reading the first book, I knew I was in trouble.  We read John Rawls’ A Theory of Justice.  In the book, he presents the best way to get to a just political system.  He imagines gathering a random, diverse group of people who are blind about what their lot in life will be.  They have no guarantees about whether they will be old or young, rich or poor, male or female, member of a minority group or not.  In the midst of this blindness, the people gathered are required to make up a set of rules to govern society.  Rawls’ basic argument is that if those people were truly blind about what their lot in life would be, they would be more likely to come up with a system of governance that is the fairest for all – since no one would want to take a chance on being the one victimized by an unfair system.  Though I appreciated what Rawls was saying, I was immediately annoyed at his argument.  How could we ever recreate a system of justice from scratch, and truly blind anyone enough to create such a system?  Since that seemed impossible, the whole premise was frustrating to me.  Needless to say, my focus in Political Science was not Political Theory!

That being said, many years later, I think I may finally understand what Rawls was trying to communicate.  Our political system, or even this earthly life in general, is governed by a set of human-made standards that do not look out for the poor, that create injustices, and that benefit very few.  This is why so many of us get frustrated when we talk about justice or trying to make a difference – we see the system of injustice that fights against us and we can end up feeling helpless.  This is the very injustice that our king – Jesus – comes to fight.  In fact, I am now curious to know whether John Rawls and Jesus were perhaps acquainted.  Though he professed to be an atheist, early in his life Rawls considered becoming an Episcopal priest.  Perhaps this world that we can only achieve through blindness is the same world that Jesus could see through God’s eyes.

In Rawls’ argument, when the blinded people make the rules, and then have their blindfolds removed, some are relieved to be well-off and others are dismayed to see themselves in poverty or at a disadvantage.  But all have some sense of acceptance because the rules they made do not make rich-life as advantageous and do not make poor-life as horrible.  This is the kind of fairness Jesus invites us into.  Jesus shows us a world where a humiliated man can look at his persecutors and forgive them.  Jesus shows a world where a man is willing to suffer for the salvation of others.  Jesus shows us a world where even a criminal can see truth in the last hour, can admit his guilt, and turn to Christ for leniency.

This is why we celebrate Christ as King today:  not because he is victorious in putting us in control over others, but because he invites us into that life that evens the playing field – the life of the kingdom of God.  There are certainly going to be days when we just wish that Jesus would mount a mighty horse and triumph over evil.  But most days we realize that what we really need is a king who enables us to create a world of fairness here and now – a world that is much more similar to the kingdom of God than the kingdom of humankind.

So why do we honor this not-so-kingly king today on the last day of the liturgical year?  I think the very best reason we close one year and prepare to start another with today’s gospel lesson is so that as we can more humbly approach the Christ Child.  If we can imagine ourselves gathered around that manger on that most holy of nights, not eager for vindication, but instead humbled by the path we will all walk with this king, then we enter into Advent with more reverence, less arrogance, and a healthy dose of gratitude.  This king – Christ the King – is the most sobering, challenging, merciful, joyous, steadying king for which we could hope.  He is not the king we always want, but he is certainly the king we always need.  Today we celebrate the wise gift by God of a true King – a king who makes us all better versions of ourselves.  Amen.


[i] Revelation 19.16.

Homily – Psalm 150, St. Cecilia, November 21, 2013

27 Wednesday Nov 2013

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Cecilia, God, homily, music, praise, song

Music has a unique power in our lives.  There are those songs that remind us of a romance, those songs that we played over and over in a rough patch in our lives, and those songs that always bring a smile to our faces and make us want to dance.  Music has a similar power in our faith lives too.  There are those songs that always make us cry or remember a loved one, those songs that fill us with joy at the remembrance of a special connection to God on a retreat or revival, and those songs whose words capture what we cannot capture better with hours of trying.  Music helps us connect to the awesome power of God and to express the full range of the emotional journal of walking with God.

Cecilia, who we honor today, reveled in singing passionately the praises of God.  Known as the patron saint of singer, organ builders, musicians and poets, Cecilia is venerated as a martyr.  Of noble birth, Cecilia was betrothed to a pagan, who she eventually converted by her witness – along with his brother.  But because of their conversion and her role with them, all three were eventually martyred around 230 during a time of Roman persecution of Christians.  Cecilia’s life has inspired countless artists and composers over the centuries.

Though we may turn to spiritual music for different seasons of our lives, what Cecilia invites us into today is a passion for praise.  Now I know what you may be thinking – that I am asking you to be some constant ray of sunshine who continually pretends everything is ok.  To be honest I know some people who are like that and I do not get it.  How can anyone be that happy all the time?  Does God really want us to stuff our true emotions, pain, and hurt, and pretend all is well?

That is not what a passion for praise is really about.  The psalm we all read today is full of praise: “Praise God in his holy temple … praise him for his mighty acts … praise him with lyre and harp … with resounding cymbals.”  In these six short verses, we are told to praise God 11 times.  I think what the psalmist gets and what Cecilia got is that praise is the vehicle that gets us through pain to God.  Almost like making yourself smile until the smile becomes real, when we praise God, even if we do not feel like praising, eventually our praise overwhelms us, and we cannot help but be lead closer to joy.  Our invitation today is to a life of praise – annoying, hard, gentle, forgiving, joyful, real praise.  Amen.

Sermon – Luke 21.5-19, P28, YC, November 17, 2013

27 Wednesday Nov 2013

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God, Hurricane Sandy, Jesus, Precious Lord, prepare, scripture, Sermon, suffering, testimony, Thomas Dorsey, trust, words

“Blessed Lord, who caused all holy Scriptures to be written for our learning:  Grant us so to hear them, read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest them, that we may embrace and ever hold fast the blessed hope of everlasting life, which you have given us in our Savior Jesus Christ; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.  Amen.”[i]  So on this day, when we celebrate Holy Scripture, praying one of my favorite collects, a day that we hear, read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest, imagine my intense dissatisfaction when I opened up the gospel lesson for this week.  I have been reading, marking, learning, and inwardly digesting all week, and this text still makes me uncomfortable.  On this day of celebrating Scripture, who wants to hear of collapsing houses of worship; false prophets that can lead us astray; wars, natural disasters, famines, and plagues; great persecution, including being betrayed by our very own family members?  And what is our reward for all this suffering?  All of this calamity will give us an opportunity to testify.  I do not know about you, but after having my church destroyed, navigating false prophets, fighting disasters, and dealing with persecution, testifying would be about the last thing on my mind.  In fact, I know a few Episcopalians who might even add testifying as one of the major types of tortuous, painful experiences. 

At Diocesan Convention this weekend, we watched a video about the Diocese of Long Island’s response to Hurricane Sandy one year ago.  The video began with news coverage leading up to the storm, during the storm, and immediately after the storm.  I have no idea why, but I found myself tearing up during the coverage.  I had forgotten all of the anxiety and stress that came from that storm.  I forgot about the utter despair and the feelings of helplessness – having friends try to contact me about how they could help, and yet, not even having power to be able to watch the news and see what was going on all around us.  I remember wanting to know what had happened to churches in the areas most impacted by the storm, but the Diocesan offices being crippled by their own lack of power and employees’ inability to get to work.  I remember wanting to help, but not being sure how to do that without electricity ourselves.  I remember being so cold at night without heat, and yet knowing that I was lucky to have an undamaged roof over my head.  I remember anxiously watching my car’s gas gauge approach empty – knowing the panic of gas lines, and how quickly stations ran out of gas.  The video brought all of those emotions bubbling up to the surface. 

But the video also offered a testimony.  After the storm, churches began opening doors for collections, housing, and powering stations.  Teams from churches headed to devastated areas to help demo and begin repairing homes.  Those too far from the action, offered up their space to electrical workers who had volunteered to help, but had been given no place to stay at night.  Our hospital in the Rockaways treated patients for three weeks solely on generator power.  A year later, people are still being helped as they repair homes, find new places to stay, and deal with the emotional ordeal.  In a time of great darkness, the Episcopal Church on Long Island began to find a way out of the darkness and into the light. 

One of the coordinators of the effort from the Diocese said that one of the things the Church had to learn to do was not to go into areas telling them how they were going to help – but instead had to simply show up and ask what people needed.  The representative said that this model made the work and efforts much more chaotic, but in the end, brought about the change that people really needed.  I could hear echoes of today’s gospel lesson in his words.  Jesus says, “Make up your minds not to prepare your defense in advance, for I will give you words and a wisdom that none of your opponents will be able to withstand or contradict.”  This strange gift of being able to testify is made even stranger by Jesus’ words – not only is our gift to testify in the midst of suffering, we are to force ourselves to not even prepare the testimony on the way – no thinking of anecdotes, no making outlines, no trying to even think about what we might say.  We must simply show up and trust that God will give us the words.

One of my favorite hymns is “Precious Lord.”  “Precious Lord,” is one of those songs that I can close my eyes to and just overflow with love and gratitude toward God.  Of course, my favorite version is not the version sung out of the hymnal, but by the great Al Green.  He breathes a life and joy into the song that we can rarely muster in church.  But this week, my appreciation for this favorite song grew infinitely when I heard the story behind the song.  The song was written by Thomas Dorsey.  Born in 1889 in rural Georgia, Dorsey was a prolific songwriter and excellent gospel and blues musician.  As a young man, he moved to Chicago where he worked as a piano player in churches as well as in clubs and theaters.  After some time, Dorsey finally devoted his talent exclusively to the church.  In August of 1932, Dorsey left his pregnant wife in Chicago and traveled to be the featured soloist at a large revival meeting in St. Louis.  After the first night of the revival, Dorsey received a telegram that simply said, “Your wife just died.”  Dorsey raced home and learned that his wife had given birth to a son before dying in childbirth.  The next day his son died as well.  Dorsey buried his wife and son in the same casket and withdrew in sorrow and agony from his family and friends.  He refused to compose or play music for quite some time. 

While still in the midst of despair, Dorsey said that as he sat in front of a piano, a feeling of peace washed through him.  That night, Dorsey recorded this testimony while in the midst of suffering:

Precious Lord, take my hand,

Lead me on, let me stand;

I am tired, I am weak, I am worn;

Through the storm, through the night,

Lead me on to the light;

Take my hand, precious Lord,

Lead me home.[ii]

In the midst of that darkest of times, Dorsey did not sit at that piano with a song all planned out.  In fact, if you had asked him to testify at that moment, he might have railed at the way that God and the world were treating him.  And yet, empty and vulnerable, God filled Dorsey with words that would touch people eighty years later, and would be sung by countless famous people over the years.

In the midst of darkness – of destruction, pain, suffering, persecution, even betrayal by those we love most – God gives us a testimony too.  And even more than a testimony, Jesus promises that we do not even have to prepare this testimony.  God will provide the words and the wisdom when we need them.  Our only mandate today is to hold fast to God in the midst of trials, to remain open to the movement of the Spirit, and to speak those words of truth and wisdom when we feel them spilling out of our mouths.  That time of testimony may not be before some king or governor demanding to hear about our faith.  But our testimony might spill out with a grieving widow or mother, a traumatized victim of natural disaster, or a friend who has felt disenfranchised by the Church.  We cannot prepare the testimony.  We cannot even try to craft a basic testimony story to be ready whenever we need the story.  Jesus tells us to “make up our minds not to prepare.”  This is perhaps one of the hardest challenges Jesus will give us, and yet, as we see in Dorsey’s testimony and the many other testimonies we have heard, when we yield that power to Christ, the real, vulnerable beauty of our story gives life to others and to us.  Amen.


[i] BCP, 236.

[ii] Story of Dorsey take from Nancy Lynne Westfield, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, vol. 4 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 312.

Homily – Acts 20.28-32, Samuel Seabury, November 14, 2013

27 Wednesday Nov 2013

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church, Episcopal, flexibility, God, homily, Samuel Seabury, tenacity, trust

Today we honor the life and work of Samuel Seabury, first American Bishop of the Episcopal Church.  Born in 1729 in Connecticut, and ordained priest in England in 1753, Seabury worked in New Jersey, Long Island, and Westchester County.  During the American Revolution, he remained loyal to the British crown and served as a chaplain to the British army.  After the Revolution, in 1783, Seabury was asked by Connecticut clergymen to seek episcopal consecration in England.  He negotiated for a year, but could not obtain episcopal orders because as an American citizen, he could not swear allegiance to the crown.  He turned to the Episcopal Church in Scotland, which consecrated him bishop.  In Connecticut, he was officially recognized as bishop in 1785.  In 1792, he participated in the first consecration of a bishop on American soil.

I do not know many modern Episcopalian who could have lived the life of Samuel Seabury.  He had to deal with changing national loyalties; travel by boat to ask a people from whom he had just revolted to consecrate him; negotiate for a year; think creatively to involve Scotland; not give up; and establish a new system here in the U.S.  Samuel’s faith life required a certain flexibility, creativity, and tenacity that many of us lack.  I sense that lack even in myself as I hear Episcopalians talk about reinventing our church for this new age.  Can’t we just stay as we are where we are comfortable and just pray it will all work out?

But our lesson from the Acts of the Apostles allows no such hesitancy.  Paul exhorts us to keep watch – over ourselves and over the whole flock.  Our job is to care for the church that “God obtained with the blood of [God’s] Son.”  But Paul does not exhort without encouragement.  He says that God’s grace will build us up and that the Holy Spirit makes us overseers.  We can do our work with flexibility, creativity, tenacity, and change because God’s grace will build us up, and the Holy Spirit empowers us to do the work.  The road may be hard at times, but we have the great cloud of witnesses pushing us forward.  Samuel knows we can do it; we just have to let go and trust.  Amen.

A Lifelong Process…

14 Thursday Nov 2013

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alive, church, dreams, flourish, God, hope, living, money, stewardship

This stewardship reflection is offered by St. Margaret’s Parishioner, Kim Irvine.  

Courtesy of http://www.churchleaders.com/pastors/pastor-articles/156872-don-linscott-why-i-m-glad-my-church-needs-money.html

Courtesy of http://www.churchleaders.com/pastors/pastor-articles/156872-don-linscott-why-i-m-glad-my-church-needs-money.html

It seems that people often associate stewardship with feelings of dread, awkwardness, and anxiety, when in fact the goal of a stewardship campaign is to generate excitement and energy about the achievements our church has experienced, and share the hopes and dreams for the future.  We as a community in Christ need to have intentional discussions about the financial standing of our church.  How can we know what the needs of the church are, without having these crucial conversations?  This year let’s try not to view stewardship as a time we have to “get through”, but instead embrace stewardship as a way of life; living each day knowing that all we have is a gift from God, and we are responsible to use what we have been given to the glory of God.

I believe we at St. Margaret’s are witnessing first hand how stewardship results in helping not only the members of our congregation, but also those in our community and beyond.  New programs are being developed, we’ve seen new initiatives launched, and the buildings and grounds we are blessed with are being maintained and improved.  None of this would be possible without your stewardship.  Your pledges and generous contributions are facilitating growth and change within and outside our church.

In doing some research for this blog post I came upon the following quote:

“Have you ever heard anyone say, ‘My church is always asking for money.  I wish I could belong to a church that never needed any money.’  Surely they don’t mean that.  Any church that is alive needs money.  Only dead churches do not call on their members for support.  If anyone should accuse your church of always needing and calling for money, regard it as a compliment.  Invite this person to rejoice with you that you both belong to something that is living and productive for Jesus Christ rather than a dead, stagnant organization from which glory of Christ has departed.”[1]

For me, these words were really eye opening; they made me grateful to be part of a church that is “alive,” and full of God’s love.

Please prayerfully consider your pledge for this year; your continued financial support of St. Margaret’s will propel us to do the amazing things God has planned for us, and keep us flourishing in faith!

Respectfully submitted by Kim Irvine


[1] http://www.tonycooke.org/free_resources/articles_leadership/pastoral_helps/quotes_thoughts.html

Sermon – Luke 20.27-38, P27, YC, November 10, 2013

14 Thursday Nov 2013

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afterlife, answers, death, God, grace, heaven, Jesus, life, love, mercy, resurrection, Sadducees, Sermon

About a year ago we lost one of our parishioners after a sustained battle with illness.  If you remember, at that time we were still recovering from Hurricane Sandy.  Though many of us finally had our power back, we faced an early snow storm.  The storm delivered just enough snow to knock out power in some of the local schools and to muck up roads that were already struggling to be freed from fallen trees.  My daughter’s school was cancelled, and I had anticipated just trying to stay warm at home for the day.  But when I got the call that Mina had died – I was dumbfounded.  There was no doubt in my mind that I would go join the family for prayers, but I had no idea how to incorporate my daughter into the visit.  With the weather conditions such as they were, there was no way she could stay anywhere else.  And so began a ten minute drive during which I tried to explain to my three-year old daughter what death meant, what heaven is, and what God’s role in all of this is.  Of course, I totally forgot to factor into my explanation the fact that Mina’s body would still be present, and how her body figured into my three-year-old-appropriate explanation of heaven.  Needless to say, a year later, I am still fielding questions about death, heaven, and God.

The truth is that I think adults have as many questions about death, heaven, and God as young children do.  When we hear the complicated question of the Sadducees to Jesus about the woman with seven husbands, we find ourselves morbidly curious too.  What does happen to this woman in the afterlife?  Would she have wanted to be with one over another in heaven?  Of course her scenario makes us think of all the stories of loved ones we know – or even of ourselves.  What happens to the widow who remarries in the resurrection?  What about the couple who divorces and later remarries?  Surely they will not have to be reunited with their exes!  Or what about that abusive father, that mean uncle, or that estranged sister?  Do we face them in the afterlife?  Since we do not really have anyone to give us an insider’s perspective, these are the questions that we really wonder about.  And if we have ever held the hand of a loved one approaching death, we may have asked these questions to God, to our priest, or to a friend.  So when the Sadducees ask this question of Jesus, we perk up, hoping for some real clarity from Jesus, and secretly praying for the answer that we think is best.

The trouble with this text though is that the Sadducees are not really asking Jesus a practical question about what happens in the resurrection.  In fact, the Sadducees do not even believe in the resurrection.  If you remember, the Sadducees are the group of people who believe the Torah – those first five books of the Hebrew Scriptures – to be the only authorized scripture.  None of the other books that we know from scripture – the prophetic writings or the Psalms – are considered valid scripture by the Sadducees.  Because there is neither a doctrine of resurrection of the dead nor a belief in angels in the written Torah, the Sadducees refuse to believe that there is life after this earthly life.  The Pharisees along with Jesus and his disciples, on the other hand, believe in ongoing interpretation of Torah handed down by word of mouth, and so, they have no problem with the ideas of resurrection presented in other Hebrew scriptures.[i]

So this question by the Sadducees about the resurrection is not really a question for which the Sadducees are looking for answers.  Instead, this is a question meant to both ridicule Jesus,[ii] and to trap Jesus in an impossible question.  Though we may feel some sense of camaraderie in shared curiosity, the Sadducees are not simply a curious bunch with a heartfelt question.  They are trying to manipulate Jesus and embarrass him in front of the crowd.  Luckily for us, Jesus offers an answer anyway.  Of course the answer is not as specific as we might like, but the answer does offer hope and mercy in a roundabout way.

What Jesus basically tells the Sadducees and those gathered around him is that the resurrection is not like life here on earth.  Life after earthly life is not “Earthly Life, Part II,” where everything is the same, but better.  In the resurrection life, rules of this life – and in particular, rules that applied to Levirate marriage, like a brother taking on a widowed sister-in-law – are not the same as the rules in the afterlife.  Jesus does not explain exactly what this looks like or how this plays out, and Jesus does not fully satiate our curiosity.  But Jesus does give an answer that is full of mercy and love.  Jesus basically tells those gathered that the beauty of the resurrection is that the strictures and limitations of this life are lifted in the life to come.  Things like women being treated as property to be managed, infertility, and grief are erased in the afterlife.  Things like disappointment in marriage, pressure to be married, and even death itself are no longer present in the afterlife.  Things that define us here, limit or frustrate us, or pain us here in this life are absent in the afterlife.  Jesus will never concede to the Sadducees that resurrection life does not exist.  But Jesus does try to kindly invite the Sadducees into seeing that resurrection life is so much more than they can imagine, and so much more full of true life than this earthly life that they know.  Jesus does not answer their question fully, but Jesus does say that the Creator God of Torah is still revealing truth, and that the truth is full of mercy, grace, and love.

I am reminded of the scene from the movie The Matrix where the main character, Neo, goes to visit a woman called the Oracle to find out if he is “the one,” a messiah-like figure to save the world.  Neo goes to the Oracle with a clear-cut question, “Am I the One?”  But the conversation that ensues is complex and layered with meaning.  She seems to be telling Neo he is not the one, but we later learn in the movie that she was actually telling him that he is not the one if he will not claim his status as the One.  The scene is as complicated as my rudimentary attempts to explain the scene.  But what the scene reminds me of are our conversations with God about ultimate things.  We often come to God with basic questions and concerns that are rarely answered directly.  But that does not mean we do not get a response.  In the end, the response is loving, full of compassion, and ultimately full of truth when we are ready to understand and interpret that truth.

This is all that Jesus can offer us today.  Jesus is not offering an exclusive interview a top news source to tell us everything we want to know about resurrection life.  We will not be able to watch with bated breath as Jesus answers every question we want answered.  Instead, Jesus offers us a promise to take home.  His promise is that we have resurrection life beyond this earthly life.  His promise is that resurrection life is not some two-dimensional repeat of this life, with the limited happiness we can find here, but instead is a three-dimensional life beyond our knowing because of our limited earthly experience.  His promise is that God is ever revealing truth to us, showing us the most important truth:  that God loves us, shows us exquisite mercy, and offers us unfailing grace.  Jesus’ words today may not be the 60-Minute special we were hoping for, but Jesus’ words today give us something to hold on to in the midst of this crazy, chaotic world that is our earthly home.  Hold fast to the Lord who loves you, shows you exquisite mercy, and offers you unfailing grace.  Amen.


[i] Vernon K. Robbins, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, vol. 4 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 285.

[ii] Eberhard Busch, “Theological Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, vol. 4 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 286

Homily – Luke 19.1-10, P26, YC, November 3, 2013

06 Wednesday Nov 2013

Posted by jandrewsweckerly in Uncategorized

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blessing, church, generosity, giving, grace, gratitude, homily, Jesus, joy, justice, love, sinner, stewardship, wealth, Zacchaeus

I have always loved the story of Zacchaeus.  I am sure part of my love for Zacchaeus began when I learned that song from Sunday School:  “Zacchaeus was a wee little man, and wee little man was he…”  Perhaps I have also always loved Zacchaeus because I too am a bit “short in stature,” and so I have always felt a sense of kinship with Zacchaeus.  I can totally relate to not being able to see in a crowd.  The one time we went to the Macy’s Day Parade, I could only see the tops of floats as I strained to see on tiptoe.  What I wouldn’t have given for a sycamore tree that day!  Plus, Zacchaeus’ story ends so joyfully, that his story seems like a happy little adventure between Jesus and this eager, short man.

But the more I thought about Zacchaeus this week, the more I began to realize that Zacchaeus is not exactly a sweet, innocent, short man trying to see Jesus.  Zacchaeus is actually a pretty bad guy in the story.  Tax collectors are pretty notorious in those days.  First, they are considered traitors by most Jews because they willingly are employed by the occupying Romans.  Second, and perhaps worse, tax collectors make a great deal of money because part of the arrangement of being a tax collector is being able collect as much as they want over the Roman tax to pad their own wallets.[i]  Considering Jericho is a big city, and major center of taxation, we should not be surprised that Zacchaeus is not just doing well – he is rich.[ii]  We should also not be surprised when the people in the crowd grumble when this man, who betrays his people and extorts money from them, is welcomed so warmly by Jesus.

We know Zacchaeuses in our lives – those guys who always cheat their way to the top and seem to be rewarded for their cheating.  They do not even have to be attractive to get their way – they might even be some short guy with no physical appeal.  We much prefer stories like the man with the bigger barn who dies before he can enjoy his wealth, or the rich man who burns in hell without the help of Lazarus, because we like people to get what they deserve.  We like the stories of ultimate justice because we have some sense of justice as fairness ingrained in us.  So when someone is consistently rich, and consistently the recipient of favoritism, we sense justice is being violated.

Over the years, my understanding of wealth and what it does to people has varied over time.  In general, I think money has the potential to be corrupting, and so we all have to be careful about our relationship with wealth.  But I have also met many wealthy people who give away a LOT of money.  Whether the person is a wealthy alum from my college, a generous board member for a non-profit, or a wealthy parishioner at church, I have come to see the powerful way that the wealthy can turn their blessing into a blessing for others.  We hear in scripture all the time how hard life is for the wealthy, how money can lead to sinfulness, and how money can curse someone to suffering in the afterlife.  So we tend to prejudge the rich as being a group who has a lot of work to do – almost as if they must atone for something.  But what that kind of judgment does is allow us to judge others without seeing what in our lives is separating us from God too.  Money can certainly separate us from God and lead us to sinfulness; but so can envy, lust, jealousy, and drunkenness.

When we can see Zacchaeus as a man – not just a wee, little man or a rich, manipulative man – but simply a man who is a sinner just like each of us, then we can really begin to see the magic of Zacchaeus’ story.  The magic of Zacchaeus’ story is that despite his sinfulness, Jesus’ uncompromising love changes him.  The last part of the gospel today is where we see the magic unfold.  When Jesus shows Zacchaeus unconditional love and acceptance, Zacchaeus is entirely transformed.  Zacchaeus does not simply say he will start living his life in a different way.  Instead, Zacchaeus pledges to give half of his possessions to the poor.  Furthermore, he pledges to repay fourfold anyone whom he has defrauded – which given his position was probably quite a lot of money.  And in return for Zacchaeus’ overflowing generosity and repentance, Jesus’ love flows even more, as he declares Zacchaeus to not only be saved, but to be considered a son of Abraham – a member of the family of God!  The story almost becomes comical as Jesus and Zacchaeus try to one-up each other in showing love and grace, abundance and blessing.

For those of you who have ever given generously to church, you may have experienced this Zacchaeus phenomenon yourself.  Making a generous gift to the church actually feels really great – like you are a part of some cycle of gratitude.  When you give out of blessing and gratitude, you end up somehow receiving even more blessing and gratitude.  And somehow giving that generous amount – whether a tithe or some other amount makes you more generous in other areas too.  Somehow, that request at Christmas for needy Plainview families seems easier to accommodate; giving to charities and institutions outside of church feels like the right thing to do.  And giving your money generously makes you want to give your time generously too – because somehow in the midst of giving, you receive so much more.

This cycle of gratitude between us and Jesus is what we celebrate today.  When we bring our pledge cards forward a little later in the service, we bring them with a light heart, an overwhelming sense of blessedness, and a joy that almost makes us dance down the aisle.  This is Zacchaeus’ gift to us today – to help us reclaim the joy that only comes from generosity.  Zacchaeus’ joy can be your joy today too.  Amen.


[i] Laura S. Sugg, “Pastoral Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, vol. 4 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 260.

[ii] E. Elizabeth Johnson, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, vol. 4 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2010), 261.

Homily – Ezekiel 34:22-31, Paul Sasaki and Philip Tsen, October 31, 2013

06 Wednesday Nov 2013

Posted by jandrewsweckerly in Uncategorized

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abundance, beliefs, challenges, God's promise, homily, least resistance, Paul Sasaki, Philip Tsen

Today we honor Paul Sasaki and Philip Tsen, bishops in Japan and China in the mid-1900s.  Bishop Sasaki, from Japan, was persecuted and imprisoned for his support of the independence of the Anglican Church during Word War II.  Missionaries from the Episcopal Church first came to the area in 1859; it was the first church in the Anglican Communion not composed primarily of British expatriates.  The Episcopal Church there elected its first bishops in 1923.  But when WWII came, with Japan opposing the West, the Japanese government ordered all Christians into a “united church.”  Bishop Sasaki refused to be merged, and inspired most of the church to stay together and faithful to their Anglican heritage.  Bishop Sasaki was tortured and imprisoned for his actions, but his witness rallied the church after the war.

Bishop Tsen was raised by Episcopal Church missionaries.  After his ordination, he worked closely with Canadian missionaries in China.  During the Sino-Japanese War, he worked to sustain the people of his area, eventually becoming the leader of the Chinese Anglican Church.  But upon his return from the 1948 Lambeth Conference, he was put under house arrest by the Communist authorities.

When I was in Burma, learning about the Episcopal Church there, I sometimes wondered how they did it – and honestly, why they chose their path.  Their lives would be so much easier if not for the Christian identity.  They could earn more money, avoid persecution, stay out of the watchful eye of the government.  I wonder if Bishop Sasaki or Bishop Tsen did not feel the same way at times.  Though we often encourage standing up for our beliefs, the path of least resistance would certainly be easier.  Surely, we have all had even some small instances when we have either caved or wanted to cave when faced with ethical challenges to our faith.  We knew what we should have done, but the path of least resistance was just too easy.

I think the way Bishops Sasaki and Tsen overcame those challenges was by believing in the promise of Holy Scripture.  We hear the words of promise in Ezekiel today.  God promises a shepherd, security, rains for produce, abundant yield, freedom from invasion, release from poverty and hunger.  These must have been words of promise for these bishops in tumultuous times.

These are words for us in tumultuous times, too.  Whenever we are feeling overwhelmed by the powers of evil or are feeling tempted to take an easy way over what feels like the hard way – Ezekiel reminds us that the way of God is full of abundant promise.  That kind of promise is the kind of promise we can lean on, no matter how hard something is – for we are the sheep of God’s promise, and the LORD God is our God.  Amen.

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