Sermon – Deuteronomy 34.1-12, P25, YA, October 29, 2017, 8 AM

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anniversary, future, God, history, Israelites, Joshua, journey, Kingdom, Moses, past, present, Promised Land, Sermon

This morning our community is celebrating our past, present, and future.  We celebrate the community of Hickory Neck, who one hundred years ago, came together to consecrate this historic church, which had been dormant of worship since the Revolutionary War, used varyingly as a school and hospital.  We celebrate a community who committed itself this year to paying off our debt which covered the cost of our New Chapel, as well as renovations to existing buildings.  And we celebrate our commitments to financially support Hickory Neck in the year ahead through our pledges of offerings.  In each celebration, we see glimpses of who Hickory has been, is, and is becoming.

We are not unlike our ancestors, the Israelites, as we find them on the brink of the Promised Land.  Today’s lesson from Deuteronomy tells the story of the last days of Moses and the beginning of Joshua’s leadership.  In their mourning over Moses’ death, the community remembers the profound ways in which God, through Moses, changed their lives.  They were exiles by famine from their land, enslaved by the Egyptians, and indebted to Pharaoh.  But Moses became their advocate, leading them out of slavery, across the Sea of Reeds, and through the long years of the wilderness.  Moses took all their complaints and whining, and advocated for food, water, and safety.  Moses took their metaphorical wandering, and delivered a new law from the Lord.  Moses organized their community and empowered the next generation to lead.  Moses’ death reminds the people of Israel all they have been through.  Their mourning is where they find themselves in the present:  no longer wandering, but not yet into their next phase of life.

And yet, Moses’ death also points them to their future.  Moses has already blessed Joshua as their next leader, and Joshua will take them into the Promised Land.  Moses is even given the gift of seeing the beauty of that land, as far as the eye can see.  Though Moses knows he is not to cross over, God shows him all that is to come.  The vision is vast, abundant, and blessed.  We suspect Moses can die in peace having seen the land of milk and honey, even if he himself will not experience the land.  And Moses has already seen Joshua receive the spirit of wisdom.  There is nothing left to do but join God in the heavenly kingdom.

On days of introspection about the past, present, and future, we can easily gloss over all the hard stuff.  Though today the people of Israel honor their esteemed leader, and they have the Promised Land ahead of them, we do not often get a sympathetic retelling of the Israelite story.  For the last several weeks, we have heard stories of the Israelites complaining about water and food, but we forget how debilitating hunger and thirst can be.  We read the story of the construction of the golden calf recently, but we rarely wonder about what waiting blindly at the foot of the mountain for Moses to return felt like or the doubt his absence created.  We also recently heard the story of the Passover, but we rarely imagine how terrifying that night must have been and what being saved meant.

I have wondered what stories linger behind our own history.  I have asked our historians about the Hickory Neck community one hundred years ago.  I have wondered who the members were, what their feelings were about the old church that was no longer theirs, or what inspired them to regather.  But we have no record of their story:  their passion that lead to us worshiping here today.  We can only imagine the negotiating they did, the partnerships they forged, the strain they underwent in those early years.  And though many of you were here when we built our New Chapel, I was not.  I imagine there were lingering doubts and concerns about whether a capital campaign, and taking on a mortgage was a good idea.  I am sure there were anxieties about church growth and identity.  And I already know some of that same labor is true today.  We wonder where the Holy Spirit is guiding us, what ministries will define us, and what people will join our community and change us for the better.  The future is always ambiguous and daunting.

That is why I appreciate our parallel story of the Israelites, Moses, and Joshua today.  As one scholar writes, what our ancient story and our modern story reminds us of is “Building the realm of God is a process, and we each have our part to play, even if we will not be around to see all our hopes come to fruition.  Even if we will not be present for the final outcome, it is important that we build the realm of God in the here and now, trusting God to work through each of us to bring about God’s vision for the world.  Furthermore, God assures us in [today’s Old Testament reading] that there will be people to continue leading us to the promised land and building God’s kingdom after we are gone.  The emergence of Joshua as the new leader of the Israelite people shows us that the work to be done is bigger than any one individual, and God will continue to provide prophetic presence through different people and voices.”[i]

In both the stories of our biblical and historical ancestors, we are reminded that we are a part of a greater narrative – each phase of the journey filled with challenges, hard times, and anxious moments.  But each phase is also filled with successes, celebratory times, and joyful, life-giving moments.  That is why we have been talking about journeys this month.  As we have reflected on our personal journeys to generosity during stewardship season, we have heard countless stories of how our journey has evolved, changed, and deepened.  We have also heard of the fellow pilgrims along the way who taught us about generosity and shaped our journey along the way.  What we have been doing this month, and what our Old Testament lesson and our current celebrations remind us of is “there is value in the journey.  The value lies in the growth, the relationships, and the spiritual development we experience along the way, not to mention the incremental progress we make toward creating the just and peaceable world that God desires for all of creation.”[ii]

Our invitation this week, is to continue to invest in the journey.  Each of you have shared with me the innumerable ways that Hickory Neck has influenced your journey.  I cannot tell you the countless times that this building alone has played a powerful part of your experience here.  I cannot tell you the multiple times I have heard about the passion and excitement that enlivened your faith life as we built a new worship space after hundreds of years on this land.  I cannot tell you the hundreds of times I have heard dreams and vision whispered in my ear as you have envisioned what the next steps of our journey together at Hickory Neck will be.  There will be hard moments and joyful moments, times of struggle and times of celebration.  Today we are reminded of the God who journeys in each phase with us, and empowers us as partners on the journey to change the kingdom of God here on earth.  God will empower us to stay on the journey together.  I cannot wait to see where the journey leads!  Amen.

[i] Leslie A. Klingensmith, “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Supplement to Yr. A, Proper 25 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2011), 4.

[ii] Klingensmith, 6.

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Love and marriage…

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anniversary, church, community, God, love, marriage, sacred, secular, vows

Courtesy of http://www.carbonfiberweddingbands.org/wedding-bands/

This week my husband and I celebrated thirteen years of marriage.  A few friends asked me what romantic plans we had, and I found I had to do some explaining.  You see, twelve years ago, on our first wedding anniversary, we found ourselves at an impromptu family reunion.  At the time, we reasoned that we would just celebrate our anniversary some other time.  But a few days later, as we talked about the reunion, we realized something.  Our wedding was a celebration not only of our love and commitment and the covenant we were entering into, but also a celebration of the community who was vowing to hold us to our covenant – to support us, love us, and encourage us in the good and bad times.  In that light, it seemed completely appropriate that we would celebrate our anniversary in the same fashion as we celebrated our wedding – surrounded by the community that holds us accountable to our vows.

Ever since the first anniversary, we have made a point of celebrating our special day with others.  Sometimes the gathering has been large; sometimes quite small.  Sometimes we have celebrated with family, and sometimes we have celebrated with friends.  We have celebrated our anniversary with people who did not even know us when we got married, and we have celebrated with people who knew us before we knew each other.  Each year, the celebration reminds us of the blessing of friends and family in our lives and how we could not grow and thrive in marriage with the support of a lot of others.

What I like about the tradition we have developed is that the tradition pushes against secular expectations.  Secular expectations tell us that we should have a dreamy, romantic night with expensive gifts exchanged (don’t get me wrong – I am all for date nights and presents!).  Secular expectations would tell us that marriage is private.  But that is not what the Church tells us.  Sacred expectations are that marriage is blessed within the context of a community.  Sacred expectations are that the community should ask how marriages are going – not just to gossip or vent, but to continue to live into the vow that the entire community takes to help marriages thrive.

So today, I ask for your prayers: prayers that my husband and I might continue to find joy in one another, might continue to find love and support in our marriage, and might glorify God in our life together.  In return, I lift up prayers today for all my friends who are married:  those who are in those first years of wedded bliss, those who are struggling with all sorts of marital challenges, and those who are just treading water.  I also lift up prayers for those who long to be married, but have not found a partner; for those who have lost their spouses to death; for those who are divorced; and for those who long to be married legally but still live in places where that is not an option.  We are all the community of faith, and we all need one another.  I thank God for all of you today!

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

Tags

anniversary, bishop, dream, future, God, Jesus, John the Baptist, ministry, past, present, prison, Sermon, wonder

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Anniversary advice…

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50th, advice, anniversary, celebrate, change, church, Jesus

Courtsey of http://www.momentaryawe.com/blog/walking-into-the-light/

Whenever I meet a couple celebrating their 50^th anniversary, my question is usually the same, “So, any advice?”  The answers have varied widely: advice about whether or not it is okay to go to bed angry; varying ways of decision-making; and my personal favorite, to only argue in the nude.  As a child of divorce, in a generation of divorce, those couples who make it to fifty years garner a deep level of respect from me.  I find myself drawn to them, watching how they care for one another, wondering what rough patches they faced along the way that could have led to the dissolving of the marriage, but that they managed to survive.  As someone who has been blessed with twelve years of marriage, I am already amazed at the vast changes that have impacted my marriage.  I can only imagine what lies ahead in the next 38 years.

My parish celebrates fifty years of ministry this Sunday.  Over the course of the year, I have heard stories of times past and the joys of a long life together.  But this week, I find myself wondering what advice we might offer to anyone considering the next fifty years of ministry here.  Having listened to and watched my parish for the last two years, I see a few nuggets of wisdom emerging.  First, change is inevitable.  We often joke around here that we sometimes do things because that is the way we have always done them.  But the truth is many, many things have changed in our history.  Whether it was a particular clergyperson’s way of doing the liturgy, a particular party that “always” happens, or a group that has functioned for a long time, change is the one constant in our history.  Over the last two years of my tenure with St. Margaret’s, many have commented on the sheer volume of changes in our life together.  But from all the stories I hear, change has been a constant for the last fifty years of our life together.  So if we know change is constant, perhaps our task is not to prevent that change, but to find the best ways to be flexible in the midst of change, knowing some change with stick, and some will not.

Second, what feeds us today will not necessarily feed us tomorrow.  This bit of advice comes out of the wide variety of programs I have seen come and go over our fifty year history.  I have heard many people speak longingly about programs that have fed us over the years – a bowling team, a youth program, or a prayer ministry.  But just like we age and change over time, our spiritual needs and the needs of each generation changes over time.  This realization gives us two pieces of freedom:  first, we can let go of the idea that any one program is sacred because programs will come and go; second, we can keep dreaming and expecting that there are programs that are going to come along that dramatically impact our lives – even though we have yet to experience them.

Finally, though people, ministries, and systems come and go, one thing remains constant:  our love and longing for Jesus Christ.  Jesus is the one constant for every person who walks through our doors.  We may all experience Christ differently or may be at different points in our walk with Christ – whether at the beginning, in the midst of a deep relationship, or even questioning how we feel about him altogether – but Jesus and a longing for an experience with the sacred is what keeps us coming back to this place and keeps us inviting others into the joys we have experienced in this place.  Clergy will come and go, long-time parishioners will move or pass away, and life changes will bring people in and out of our parish.  But Christ is always with us – challenging us, feeding us, and forming us into better versions of ourselves.  Remembering that constant grounds us more than any of that stuff that inevitably changes over time.

As we gather this weekend, to worship, to feed on the Eucharistic feast, and to dance the afternoon away, I look forward to observing our parish – watching, wondering, and reveling in all that has been, all that is, and all that is to come.  I cannot wait to see what the next fifty years teaches us!

Homily – Luke 2.15-21, Holy Name, January 1, 2012

Tags

anniversary, Holy Name, homily, Jesus, names, St. Margaret

Names are very important to us.  I know when we were choosing Simone’s name, we argued for months about her name.  We knew how important a name could be:  a name could bring back memories of someone who was mean to us, of someone who was beautiful, or of someone who was relentlessly teased.  Our daughter was already going to be saddled with another fate about names – our family’s hyphenated last name.  And so back and forth we went, worrying about what kind of person our child would grow to become, and whether the name we chose would fit.  Names mean a lot to us – they are ways of honoring the past and anticipating the future.  We see that evidenced in the ways that certain nicknames stick with us in certain points of our lives.

Today we celebrate the Holy Name of Our Lord.  Eight days after the birth of Jesus, like any good Jewish family, Jesus is circumcised and given the name “Jesus.”  The importance of this momentous event is given just one verse in Holy Scripture  But the EC gives this one verse the attention of entire feast day.  Why is Jesus’ name so important?  Jesus name is important because his name tells us something about him.  His name, derived from the Hebrew, means Savior.  His name is given to Joseph by the Angel Gabriel.  Not only does Jesus’ name signal obedience by his parents, his name proclaims him to be the Savior.  Or as we heard from Isaiah this Christmas:  Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace.  Jesus’ name is important to us because Jesus’ name says something about whom we understand Jesus to be to us.

Naming is important throughout Holy Scripture.  Abram is renamed Abraham – the Father of a multitude of nations.  Isaac, the son of old, barren Sarah was named to remind her of the laughter that slipped from her mouth when God told her she would bear a son.  Simon was renamed Peter – for he would be the rock that the Church would be built upon.  Names have a power in Holy Scripture that mean something, that change something, that mark significance.

Fifty years ago, our parish was given a name too:  The Episcopal Church of St. Margaret.  Of course, for some reason we chose the oddest of the Margaret’s – St. Margaret of Antioch, who is famous for being swallowed by a dragon, and then slaying the dragon through the use of the cross in her hand.  But, like any child, this is the name we are given, whether we like our name or not.  The truth is, like any child, the name both defines us and is redefined by us.  At one point in our history, our name signified new life and growth – a place of excitement in a community without an Episcopal presence.  At another point, our name was associated with strife and struggle.  To some our name has been associated with “that cute little church with the red doors.”

And 50 years later, our name is being redefined once again.  We are that church who expresses radical hospitality, welcoming all seekers on the faith journey.  We are that church who expresses radical love, serving our neighbors here in Plainview.  We are that church expresses radical witness, sharing the good news of Christ.  In this 50^th year, we have much to look forward to as we live into our name, and as we continue to redefine our identity in this time and in this place.  Amen.