On Hope and Confidence…

Tags

church, college, confidence, decline, Episcopal Church, future, hope, Jesus, leadership, living, mainline church, youth

Photo credit:  https://www.cmalliance.org/hope/

One of the things I have loved about my church has been the Choral Scholars we employ at our 11:15 am service on Sundays.  The eight singers are college students from William & Mary.  They come from all sorts of backgrounds – some grew up singing in their hometown Episcopal Churches, some are Southern Baptists, and a few have even been Jewish.  I have always enjoyed watching their journey through college, but I especially became appreciative of that relationship when this pandemic shut down our church.  Two Choral Scholars immediately became part of our four-person team livestreaming services every week, helping keep music at the center of our digital worship.

I was not sure what to expect, however, once the semester was over in June.  We managed to recruit two other students:  one, an out-of-state college student who grew up in our church and is home for the summer, and another who is also from William & Mary, but has never sung with our Scholars.  As each week has passed, I have slowly learned about their faith journeys and experiences.  And this Sunday, when our Music Director was on vacation, the substitute she procured is an organ student from William & Mary who sings at another local church during the school year, and who led a choral evensong with a campus group at our church last year.

As we sang and played together on Sunday, I had an epiphany.  I realized I was the oldest person in the room by several years.  After years and years of talking about the so-called decline of the mainline church, hearing myriad, often contradictory, reasons why the next generation is not coming to church (for more about this topic, check out this video by Dean Ian Markham), here I was a part of a worship leadership team primarily led by people in their very early twenties.  And they were not just playing supporting roles, like greeting people at the door or handing out bulletins.  They were in charge of the entire musical offering.  They were equals in leadership, and they were doing it with confidence and beauty.

In a few months, one of the high school students I mentored in my curacy will be ordained a priest.  Listening to her hopes for the ways the Episcopal Church can speak afresh to this world, wondering about the future lay leadership of our pre-med summer singer, and imagining the bi-vocational life our substitute organist who hopes to play on Sundays after college graduation while having a weekday career, gives me hope for the future of our Church.  Yes, our Church will continue to evolve and change, living online, living in cafes and bars, living in soup kitchens and childcare centers – but living and thriving.  Our Episcopal liturgies, our openness to the intellect, and our graceful blessing of all walks of life are the things that attract the young (and more seasoned!) people who are leading us today, and they are the strengths that give me hope for the Church of the future.  I have often resisted the doom and gloom of the predictions of the decline of the Church, but have been unsure how to legitimize my hunch.  This week I am grateful for the young people in my life who have given me some language and some confidence that Jesus is not done with us yet.  I hope you can feel that hope today too.

Sermon – Luke 23:33-43, Meditation on Jesus’ Second Last Words, March 13, 2019

Tags

Christ, clarity, criminal, crisis, future, God, inclusion, Jesus, Kingdom, paradise, penitent, present, remember, Sermon, Seven Last Words

I preached the following sermon as part of a seven-week ecumenical preaching series on the Seven Last Words of Christ.  This sermon was offered at New Zion Baptist Church, one of the fellow members of the Upper James City County Ministerium, of which Hickory Neck Episcopal Church is a member.  

One of the funny things about life is that when left to our own devices, we can become consumed with things that do not have ultimate significance.  Whether our coworkers are counting on us to fill a shift, we have an important meeting, or we have a long to-do list to get accomplished, we can easily begin to think that the agenda we have set for ourselves is of ultimate importance.  We know this to be a falsehood though:  one phone call from the school nurse saying our child has a fever, or one appointment with the doctor telling us the test results came back positive, or one loved one experiences a car crash, and suddenly everything we thought was so important takes a backseat.  Crisis has a funny way of creating clarity in our lives when nothing else will.

I think that is what happens to the penitent criminal next to Jesus.  In the text we hear tonight, he is called a criminal, but in Matthew and Mark he is called a thief.  The distinction matters because crucifixion was not a crime for petty larceny.  Crucifixion was “…reserved for enemies of the state.  Crucifixion was saved for people the Roman Empire wanted to make examples of – people who had committed crimes like insurrection – civil disobedience – treason.  It’s why Jesus was crucified.”[i]  So presumably, our penitent criminal has been fighting the state too.  I suspect he has been so focused on his work, he sees nothing else, he sees no other way.  Only upon finding himself on a cross – in the midst of crisis – does he find clarity.

In that clarity, the penitent criminal doesn’t ask to be remembered on earth – to have a legacy that lives on.  He asks instead to be remembered – to have his body be re-membered – to be brought along with Jesus to that place that really matters.  The criminal does not ask to be remembered because he fears being nothing.  He confidently asks to be remembered, “because he recognizes the One who can remember.  …[He] is able to see and acknowledge that this is indeed the One to redeem Israel.”[ii]  This criminal could have been fighting the same empire, the same kingdom, that Jesus was fighting.  Except Jesus was bringing about a kingdom that threatens all the kingdoms of this world.[iii]  And in this moment on his cross, the criminal could see the Way.

I worry for us, here in Williamsburg, Virginia, among our ecumenical friends, even during Lent, we do not always have that same clarity.  Two thousand years after Christ’s death, we slip into assumptions that we can control the world around us.  We may even be trying to change our community – fighting injustice, organizing for the poor, rallying for the disenfranchised, and resisting the evil of this kingdom.  But if we are not rooted in Christ’s cross – rooted in helping to bring about the heavenly kingdom – perhaps we too are sitting on our own crosses, not having gained the clarity to simply ask, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.”

In college, I spent ten days on a mission trip to Honduras.  We were in a rural village for most of the visit, needing to hike from the main road for about an hour before we arrived.  The week was filled with humbling experiences – seeing the sacrifices the village made to host us, learning about the plight of subsistence farmers who cannot own their land, trying to make an impact, but realizing how little power we really had.  During our ten days together, one of the songs we frequently sang was the Taizé chant, “Jesus, remember me.”  If you do not know the song, the song simply repeats the phrase, “Jesus, remember me, when you come into your kingdom; Jesus, remember me, when you come into your kingdom.”  The song is also quite easily translated into Spanish due to its simplicity.  On one of our last nights as a team, in our closing worship, one of the team leaders was so overwhelmed by our experience that he began to change the words, “Jesus, forget me…” he sang.  His words shocked us.  For him, I think his changing of the words was his way of expressing how unworthy he would ever be to be remembered by Jesus.  Not in a world of such deep injustice.

What my teammate’s version of that song did though was forget what happens in Luke’s gospel when the criminal asks Jesus to remember him.  Jesus says the words we honor tonight, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.”  As Peter Gomes reminds us, “Jesus doesn’t say, ‘There, there, there, it will be all right, just hold on a little tighter.’  He doesn’t say that; he says, ‘Today’ – now, this instant, as soon as I’m there – ‘you will be there also.’  Jesus claims lordship of the future.”[iv]

Jesus says something powerful today.  This Paradise that Jesus points to is not a place they will go someday, but “a relationship that they entered today…Paradise is whenever, wherever you are with Jesus.”[v]  Now I don’t know about you, but that sounds like Good News to me.  When we get those moments of clarity – hanging from a cross, in the face of our sinfulness that makes us want to be forgotten, Jesus says, right now, right here, you are with me.  Last week, we heard Jesus’ promise of forgiveness, “Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”  Today, Jesus moves beyond forgiveness to full inclusion in the kingdom – full, reconciled relationship that changes the here and now.

A few weeks ago, our parish hosted the Emergency Winter Shelter.  We partnered with many of you here, and I know many of you host your own weeks, or partner with other parishes that do.  When we host Winter Shelter Week, we often encourage our people to witness Christ’s love through service of others – to bring Christ’s light to the guests of our shelter.  But what I remembered this year, is that as much as we think of our selves as bearers of God’s light into the darkness, I think what we actually do is not bring Christ’s light, but discover Christ’s light is already there – because that is where God is – at the heart of suffering, illness, and oppression.  We do not bring God to our guests.  God is already with our guests.  We just get to be witnesses to the inbreaking of the kingdom.  When we serve the homeless in our community, we are asking Jesus to remember us – and Jesus reminds us that we are there with him in Paradise.

As much as I love singing “Jesus remember me,” during Lent, I confess that as I reflect on these last words of Jesus, I wonder if instead singing the Taizé song “Ubi Caritas,” might capture the spirit of what Jesus is saying.  The English translation of Ubi Caritas is “Where love and charity are, there is God.”  I think if my friend who simply wanted to be forgotten that night in Honduras had remembered Jesus’ response to those words, he would have remembered that Jesus does not care if we are worthy.  Our acts of charity, of love, of kindness, are where God is.  Today.  Not in the future.  Today, we are in God’s kingdom.  As that defeated revolutionary is hanging on the cross wanting to be remembered, as he and Jesus both long for justice, into that darkness, Jesus proclaims the light already present.  In our community, the light is present too.  Into the face of racism, sexism, xenophobia, homophobia, hatred, hunger, poverty, and oppression; into our divisions right here in Williamsburg, when we fail to love our neighbor; into the denominational differences that pull us apart on Sunday mornings, Jesus’ light is already here.  “Truly I tell you, today…today…TODAY… you…and you…and you…YOU… will be with me in Paradise.”  Amen.

 

Photo credit:  https://www.eyekons.com/img/Church/Beerhorst_Cross-Shattered-Christ-CD_Contents.pdf

[i] The Rev. Linda Pepe, “Today You Will Be with Me in Paradise: Luke 22.33-43,” 2013, as found at  http://www.theologicalstew.com/today-you-will-be-with-me-in-paradise-luke-23-33-43.html on March 1, 2019.

[ii] Stanley Hauerwas, Cross-Shattered Christ:  Meditations on the Seven Last Words (Grand Rapids:  Brazos Press, 2004), 42.

[iii] Hauerwas, 42.

[iv] Peter J. Gomes, The Preaching of the Passion:  The Seven Last Words form the Cross (Cincinnati:  Forward Movement, 2002), 27.

[v] William H. Willimon, Thank God It’s Friday:  Encountering the Seven Last Words form the Cross (Nashville:  Abingdon Press, 2006), 20.

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

Tags

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.

On Generations of Generosity…

Tags

abundance, celebration, church, commitment, compassion, faithful, future, generations, generosity, giving, God, journey

Photo credit:  https://www.psychologytoday.com/blog/the-athletes-way/201510/small-acts-generosity-and-the-neuroscience-gratitude

This past week, my daughter and I were out shopping for a birthday gift for a friend.  As we were doing the self-checkout, the computer asked us if we would like to donate to charity.  I quickly tapped “no,” and my daughter was incensed.  “Don’t you want to help, Mommy?!?”  As we walked back to our car, I explained how we do help others.  She seemed incredulous, so I detailed our charitable giving, starting with what we give to the church.

Though she seemed mildly satisfied, our conversation made me realize a couple of things.  First, I could stand to have more explicit conversations with our children about our giving to church.  We already talk about budgets, treats, and how we spend money otherwise.  I realize now that our eldest may be ready to understand the commitment we make to church too.  Second, my daughter’s initial indignation is really good thing.  Her frustration with me reveals a sense of compassion and generosity that I was not sure she had fully developed.

This Sunday in church, we are celebrating lots of things.  We are celebrating the 100^th anniversary of the consecration of our historic church.  After hundreds of years of our church being used as a school and hospital, a faithful community gathered once again in 1917 for the original purpose of the building – to worship the Lord in the beauty of holiness.  We are also celebrating the paying off of our mortgage on our newest worship space.  After one final push this summer, and years of generosity before, we are able to be debt free!  We are also celebrating In-Gathering Sunday: a day where we offer our pledge cards for blessing.  These pledge cards indicate our commitment to the upcoming year of ministry, and reflect our journey toward generosity.

As these three celebrations combine into one day, I am ever aware of Hickory Neck’s own journey to generosity.  From the faithful who worked to reestablish our church after years of dormancy, to the faithful who saw a vision of a more modern, spacious place of worship just over ten years ago, to the faithful who see the new things budding at Hickory Neck and want to be a part of that growing community, we are a community who has always been on a journey to generosity.  I am grateful for the chance to celebrate together, especially for the ways in which our celebration is an example for the future generations who are also being shaped into faithful servants of compassion and generosity.  From the past and present, and into the future, I see God’s abundance all around us!

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.