Sermon – Luke 2.1-14, CE, YA, December 24, 2019

Tags

Christmas, Christmas Eve, comfort, cozy, familiar, God, identity, incarnate, Jesus, love, Sermon, sharing, story

This December, my elder daughter and I are slowly finishing the last book in the Harry Potter series.  The process has taken us several years, since we usually only finish a few pages each night.  But each time we pick the book up, I can never tell who is more excited – her or me.  You see, I have read the series at least three times – once during a summer interning at a hospital, when I needed a brain break from the emotional labor, and twice while spending lots of time nursing, when I needed a brain break from a different kind of labor.  But reading the books with my daughter has been different.  Although I know what will happen, there have been parts of the seven books I forgot entirely.  As I have watched through her eyes, I had forgotten the range of emotions the books evoke, the anticipation the author builds, and the slew of questions that take ages to answer.  In rereading them with her, I have also seen bigger truths – some allegories and religious parallels that only sink in after multiple readings.  The whole experience has been so fun, I cannot wait to start all over again with our younger daughter!

I have been thinking about how our favorite books are often like that.  Though we have endless options of books to read, sometimes we will pick an old favorite to read again.  I think many of us will reread favorite books because we like the familiarity, like cozying up with old friend.  Some of us enjoy rereading books because we enjoy catching new tidbits we never caught before.  While others of us enjoy rereading books because there is some comfort in knowing how the story ends – of being certain about what will happen.  The same can be true for small children too.  I cannot tell you how many times I read Goodnight Moon over the years.  But I never minded because I totally understood the comfort my kids found in the familiarity of a known book; the comfort they sought in Goodnight Moon was the same comfort I sought in familiar books too.

In a lot of ways, that is what we are doing tonight.  We are telling a story we have heard over and over again – although tonight’s New Revised Standard Version may not sound as familiar as the old King James Version; even Charlie Brown’s friends knew that version.  Every year, every single Christmas Eve, we make our way to church – sometimes having fought over what to wear, when, where, and what to eat, or whether or not to open any gifts beforehand.  But we make our way here tonight because we know the ultimate reward is sitting here, in the quiet of night, listening to the story we hear every year of a powerful emperor imposing a tax; of a very pregnant Mary making her way to Bethlehem with her betrothed, Joseph; of Mary giving birth and putting the Christ Child in a manger because there is no room in the inn; of shepherds minding their business in the dark of night; of angels appearing announcing glorious news; and of a chorus of angels singing magnificent truth.  And our reactions are much like they are with any favorite book.  We find comfort in the story’s familiarity, we look for and sometimes hear tiny details we forgot or had not thought about before, and we find comfort in knowing how the story will end.  Glory to God in the highest, indeed!

But the main reason we tell this story year after year after year is not simply for the familiarity and comfort – though the Church wants us to experience that goodness too.  The main reason we tell this familiar story again tonight is because we need to remember who we are and who God is.  You see, what happened on that beautiful, special night, is God came in human form among us – came as Jesus Christ incarnate – because God loves us so very much.  God saw we were struggling to be good, to live as loving people made in God’s image, and God knew we needed Jesus to help us.  We learn in this story that God is awesome, God loves us and is faithful to God’s covenant even when we are not, and God does unimaginably incredible things for us.  This beloved, almost quaint, story is full of good news about who God is.

But this beloved, familiar story also tells us something about who we are.  This story tells us that whatever baggage we came in here with tonight, whatever we are struggling with on a weekly basis, whatever self-doubts we might have, we learn in this story that we are worthy of God’s love.  We learn in this story that no matter who we are – an esteemed king, feared among the people and wielding great power; a couple with nowhere to go, feeling unsure about the future; everyday workers going about their daily jobs, just trying to pay the bills; or a vulnerable baby, unaware of the dangers all around – no matter who we are, we are loved by God, and given the opportunity to have a relationship with God.  We also learn in this story a bit harder reality.  We learn in this story that being loved by God means sharing God’s love – of going to visit people who need visiting and need to know the love of God in their isolation and loneliness, of caring for people who have no place to go no matter what we judgments we make about how they got into their current situation, of taking on tasks that seem insurmountable but will help more people experience the love of God.  We find out a lot about ourselves tonight in this familiar story too.

I know each of us who has gathered here tonight came for a different reason.  Maybe you just like the music, or maybe someone made you come, or maybe you came out of habit, or maybe you came because you wanted some sense of comfort and familiarity.  Regardless of how you got here, the Church tonight tells us a story full of meaning.  We certainly tell this story tonight because this is safe place we can cozy up to the story and feel comforted in familiarity.  We tell this story because we need reminding who God is and who we are.  But we especially tell this story tonight because God wants us to go from this place and do something with all the love and comfort we receive tonight.  God wants us to share God’s love with those who need love the most – even to the people we sometimes do not like (actually, especially to the people we do not like).  God wants us tonight to remember who we are, and who God is, and then go out into the world, rejoicing, sharing the love of Christ, retelling the Christ Child’s story, and bringing Jesus’ story to life for others.  Who knows?  Maybe this will become your new favorite story you want to read over and over again!  Amen.

On Looking for Miracles…

Tags

behavior, change, community, feeding, generosity, God, hoarding, miracle, prayer, security, selfishness, sharing, St. Peter, substance

Photo Credit:  https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0366777/mediaviewer/rm1454393856

This past Sunday, our parish gathered to watch the film Millions (2004).  The film tells the story of two brothers who accidentally come into the possession of a bag with cash, and what they each want to do with the money.  The younger brother, still reeling from their mother’s death, regularly has visions of and conversations with saints, where he discusses the moral issues of how to handle the money.  My favorite scene is between the younger brother and St. Peter.  As St. Peter is talking to him about miracles, he tells him about the Feeding of the Five Thousand story.  But this Peter’s version is a little different than the one we all know.

In the film, Peter says what actually happened that day was not really a miracle.  A boy showed up with some sardines to share with the hungry crowd, and Jesus had the disciples pass them around.  But when each person received the plate, they did not take any, because they had been hiding a stash for themselves.  So, each person took their own stash out, and ate that food instead.  Some people even had a little extra, and so they added a small amount to the plate.  Peter argues there was no magic because the food did not actually multiply.  But as he talks the story through, he confesses perhaps a miracle did happen – the miracle of people sharing their food; the miracle of a once stingy people, hoarding their own food, to a tentatively generous people, willing to share.

What St. Peter was cheekily alluding to was a miracle not of substance, but of changed behavior.  Though the scene is meant to be playful, I have been thinking about that distinction ever since.  We are in a time of stingy hoarding; perhaps humans always are.  But in the face of our selfishness, I often find myself praying for a miracle – for God to act dramatically to change these awful patterns in our society.  But perhaps the miracle we need today is not a miracle of substance, but a miracle of changed behavior.  Perhaps we need little boys with plates of shared sardines to inspire us to let go of our own death grips on security, and open up our hands and hearts to generosity.   Perhaps when we open up, others will see works of miracle in our simple changes of behavior.

What are you hoarding this week on which you can loosen your grip?  Who are the children you have been ignoring who have something inspirational to share with you?  How might you slowly begin to let go of your posture of inward protection and look around your community to see who might need you and your open arms?  I invite you to be open to a miracle of changed behavior this week, and to let me know what ripple effects you see.  Maybe St. Peter is right about us, even today!

Sermon – Philippians 1.3-11, A2, YC, December 6, 2015

Tags

action, affirmation, community, faith, family, God, Good News, Jesus, letter, love, mission, overflow, Paul, Philippians, seeking, Sermon, serving, sharing

This sermon was given on the occasion of our Annual Meeting.

My dearest St. Margaret’s, “I thank my God every time I remember you, constantly praying with joy in every one of my prayers for all of you, because of your sharing in the gospel from the first day until now.  I am confident of this, that the one who began a good work among you will bring it to completion by the day of Jesus Christ.  It is right for me to think this way about all of you, because you hold me in your heart, for all of you share in God’s grace with me…For God is my witness, how I long for all of you with the compassion of Christ Jesus.”

If ever I were to write a love letter to St. Margaret’s, I would steal these words from Paul to the Philippians.  You see, Paul saw in the Philippians what I see in you:  a community of faith alive with the Holy Spirit, sharing the Good News of Christ Jesus in our community.  A little over four years ago, I became your rector.  You were bruised and battered, having not only survived a tumultuous relationship with your last rector, but also a strained relationship with an interim, as well as the absence of consistent leadership for over two years through the limits of a supply priest.  Having had years of struggle, I quickly came to realize that St. Margaret’s had some baggage.  But St. Margaret’s also had a sense of tenacity, determination, and a deep-rooted joy that could not be stifled.  You see, as Paul writes, I could see that over fifty years ago, “the one who began a good work among you [would] bring [that good work] to completion by the day of Jesus Christ.”  I knew God was not done with us yet.

And so, over time, I came to love each of you:  not the dreamy romantic love of love birds, but the kind of love that family has for each other.  That is what people usually describe as being so wonderful about St. Margaret’s:  that we are like family.  Now when I first heard that description, I got a little nervous.  I have served at too many funerals and weddings to know that every family has some drama.  Every family has a loud Uncle Carl, crazy Aunt Bessie, or overbearing Grandma Jones.  Every family has experienced sibling drama or tensions between parent and child.  Describing St. Margaret’s as being like a family made me wary.  I began to wonder who the loud uncle, the crazy aunt, or the overbearing grandma were in this community.  But over the years, I began to understand more fully why the description of St. Margaret’s as family works so well.  Don’t get me wrong, we have our loud uncles, crazy aunts, and overbearing grandmas – though I will never tell you who they are!  But like a family, we know each other.  We know each other’s foibles, quirks, and tendencies.  We know each other’s hurts, failures, and embarrassing moments.  We even know how to predict the reactions of each other to any given situation.  But also like family, we love each other anyway.  We love each other in the way that loving mothers, protective fathers, supporting sisters, and encouraging brothers can.  We love each other not despite our weaknesses but because of those weaknesses.  In fact, no matter how much we might annoy each other at times, those foibles, quirks, and tendencies are what we have come to love about one another.  In essence, we have come to see each other with the loving eyes that Christ has for each of us.  We have come to love like Paul.[i]  Somewhere deep in our hearts, we too pray, “I thank my God every time I remember you, constantly praying with joy in every one of my prayers for all of you.”

Paul gushes about the Philippians today:  about how much he loves them, how proud he is of their work to spread the Good News, and how he sees Christ moving and acting among them for good.  But Paul’s letter is not simply a letter of affirmation – a love letter for the Philippians to put under their pillows and pull out when they are feeling low.  Paul’s letter is more.  Paul’s letter comes with a charge.  “And this is my prayer, that your love may overflow more and more with knowledge and full insight to help you to determine what is best, so that in the day of Christ you may be pure and blameless, having produced the harvest of righteousness that comes through Jesus Christ for the glory and praise of God.”  Paul does not want the Philippians to keep this love to themselves.  He wants them to let their love overflow into action.[ii]

The more and more I read Paul’s charge this week, the more and more I began to see the mission of St. Margaret’s in his words.[iii]  Several years ago, St. Margaret’s took up a mantra.  We want to be a community of faith seeking Christ, serving Christ, and sharing Christ in our community and beyond.  First, we want to be a community seeking Christ – a community committed to learning more about this God we follow, and deepening our journey with Christ.  As Paul says, we want to build up knowledge and full insight to help us determine what is best.  And so that is a part of our work here.  We are teaching our children how to walk in the way of Christ.  We are studying God’s word and challenging one another to grow through prayer, reading, and reflection.  We are engaging in meaningful worship that inspires and delights us, and helps us to connect with our God.  We are a community of faith seeking Christ.

We are also a community of faith serving Christ.  As Paul says, we are letting our love overflow.  St. Margaret’s is a community that cares about others – not just those inside the doors, but outside the doors too.  I see that love in the ways that wallets open as soon as we learn of a need in our community.  I see that love when you think of others when grocery shopping for yourselves, adding in a few extra cans or boxes for people you have never met.  I see that love when we spread peanut butter and scoop jelly, praying that the recipient of that sandwich might know the love of Christ that you have known and be encouraged in their struggle.  Our love overflows into vegetable gardens, into grief support groups, and into the hearts and minds of those who long for love.  We are a community of faith serving Christ.

We are also a community of faith sharing Christ.  As Paul says, we are to let our love overflow so that it might produce a harvest.  What I have loved about this community is that although we are nervous about sharing the Good News – of evangelizing – we share the Good News anyway.  When you gush with friends about the meaningful thing that happened at church, when you tell a stranger about how your church is doing good work, or when you serve as an example of Christ-like love in the world, you are sharing the Good News.  We do that when we walk in the parade, we do that when we put our name on baseball jerseys, and we do that when we wear our St. Margaret’s shirts to the gym, grocery store, or shopping mall.  We are a community of faith sharing Christ.

We are a community of faith seeking Christ, serving Christ, and sharing Christ because the love, joy, and acceptance we have found inside these walls is not just for us.  Fifty-two years ago, God began a good work in us.  God planted the seeds of righteousness in this community, and today we are invited to harvest that work.  And Paul assures us, as he assured the Philippians years ago, that God will bring to completion the good work began in us.  All we have to do is let our love overflow – overflow from us, overflow from our beautiful, complicated relationships with one another, and overflow from our community out into the world.  So tuck that love letter under your pillow when you need affirmation and a reminder that you are doing the good work that God calls you to do.  But also pull out that love letter when you feel weary – when you need to be inspired to get back out there, to seek Christ, serve Christ, and share Christ.  God loves you with a deep affection; and God wants your love to overflow to others more and more.  Amen.

[i] Leander E. Keck, ed., New Interpreter’s Bible, vol. 11 (Nashville: Abingdon Press, 2000), 484.

[ii] Philip E. Campbell, “Exegetical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, vol. 1 (Louisville:  Westminster John Knox Press, 2009), 39.

[iii] Edward Pillar, “Commentary on Philippians 1.3-11,” December 6, 2015 as found at  http://www.workingpreacher.org/preaching.aspx?commentary_id=2695 on December 3, 2015.

Sermon – Luke 3.7-18, A3, YC, December 16, 2012

Tags

Advent, God, Newtown, repentance, seeking, Sermon, serving, sharing, sin

I have been reeling since hearing the news of the shooting tragedy in Newtown, Connecticut on Friday.  The emotions alone are still raw.  The image of twenty-seven families losing a child or parent is heart-wrenching.  At a time when many of them were probably gearing up for the holidays, now they are planning funeral liturgies.  The image of hundreds of families gratefully greeting their children is tainted by what will be weeks if not years of therapy for innocence lost.  I know my own child is still recovering from fears from Hurricane Sandy – I can only imagine the fears these families will have to process.  The image of police officers and first responders flooding the scene, faithfully doing their jobs is marred by the probability that they too will need months and years to process the scene:  not with the eyes of professionals, but with the eyes of human beings.  As one FBI officer explained, although they are trained to do their jobs professionally, they are not unfeeling robots.

We too are left with a swirl of emotions.  I have felt deep sadness, confusion, shock, anger, and frustration.  With few answers to questions, we do not know who to blame or how to respond.  As you watch the news and follow social media, you can already hear the call to demonize guns, the mental health field, government, and the shooter.  In some ways, blaming someone or something would make the whole experience easier.  Otherwise, we are left bereft, feeling God’s absence or at least questioning God’s presence in suffering.

I wondered today, then if John the Baptist’s message this Advent was even relevant.  Perhaps we could turn somewhere else altogether today for solace.  But the more I thought about the gospel lesson, the more I realized John’s message of repentance is exactly what we need today.  On this “Stir Up Sunday,” John’s message of repentance stirs up in us our own culpability in the presence of sin in this world.  While I desire to point a finger at someone else for the sinfulness of the world, John the Baptist tells me, to look at my own sinfulness today.  John says, “Do not begin to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor’; for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children of Abraham.”  In other words, do not let your redeemed status, your chosen status, let you get complacent about your sinfulness.  In today’s terms, do not let your identity as not being the shooter let you believe yourself to be free of sin.

As our confirmands prepare for confirmation this spring, they are working through a curriculum that keeps pointing them back to the Catechism.  In our Catechism are a series of questions I find helpful today.  Turn, if you will, with me to page 848 of your Prayer Books.  Here are the questions on sin:

What is sin?  Sin is the seeking of our own will instead of the will of God, thus distorting our relationship with God, with other people, and with all creation.  How does sin have power over us?  Sin has power over us because we lose our liberty when our relationship with God is distorted.  What is redemption?  Redemption is the act of God which sets us free from the power of evil, sin, and death.  How did God prepare us for redemption?  God sent the prophets (like John the Baptist!) to call us back to himself, to show us our need for redemption, and to announce the coming of the Messiah.  What is meant by the Messiah?  The Messiah is one sent by God to free us from the power of sin, so that with the help of God we may live in harmony with God, within ourselves, with our neighbors, and with all creation.

This Advent, and in light of this tragedy, we are all invited to reflect on how our sinfulness pulls us away from God, one another, and all creation.

As dark and disheartening as John’s message may feel today, our gospel lesson does not leave us without guidance.  Three times, in response to John’s call to repentance, different groups of people ask the same question, “What then should we do?”  That question has been echoing with me all week, especially after Friday.  What then should we do?  To each group in the text, John has different advice – advice that is specific to their lot in life.  To the crowds he says, “Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise.”  To the crowds, John gives them the work of justice.  They are to share their abundance with others.  This is their work of repentance.  To the tax collectors, John says, “Collect no more than the amount prescribed for you.”  Tax collectors were able to survive by charging more than the base tax – their comfort came from these overages.  John challenges this widely accepted practice with another call to justice.  The tax collectors are not to abuse their positions of power.  This is their work of repentance.  To the soldiers, John says, “Do not extort money from anyone by threats or false accusations, and be satisfied with your wages.”  The soldiers used violence and manipulation for their own personal gain.  John challenges them to rule with justice.  The soldiers are to care for the people, not abuse them.  This is their work of repentance.  For each person, John saw a unique way of living a repentant life based on the vocations and values of that specific individual.[i]

Asking the question, “What then should we do?” is where John tries to get us today.  At this time of year, when we receive the most requests for contributions to churches, nonprofits, and universities, opportunities abound for goodness.  In the wake of Hurricane Sandy, as we learn of our neighbors here in Plainview – students and teachers at the school just down Washington Avenue – who need our help, opportunities abound for goodness.  In the wake of national violence, as we make sense of suffering and pain and as we enter into authentic conversation with our neighbors, opportunities abound for goodness.

The opportunities for goodness, the answer to the question “What then shall we do?” are found in our baptismal covenant.  As we discussed last week at our Annual Meeting, I have been discerning with our Vestry about who St. Margaret’s is and what our work is to be about.  We have wondered together this past year about what is the message that we want to convey to others about our identity.  Out of that discernment has emerged three verbs:  seeking, serving, and sharing.  We are a community that is seeking a deeper relationship with Christ, where seekers can simply be seekers on the journey with us.  We are a community that is serving our neighbors, loving and caring for them.  And we are a community that is sharing the good news of St. Margaret’s and the Good News of Christ Jesus with our community.  In these three words, seeking, serving, and sharing, we are, as our baptismal covenant suggests, proclaiming by word and example the Good News of God in Christ and seeking and serving Christ in all persons, loving our neighbor as our selves.  So when we look at that question of “What then shall we do?” our answer is to be a people seeking, serving, and sharing.

Luckily, our lectionary does not give us with a strong challenge without some encouragement.  We hear the comforting words from another of God’s prophets, Zephaniah.  “Do not fear, O Zion; do not let your hands grow weak.  The LORD, your God, is in your midst…he will rejoice over you with gladness, he will renew you in his love; he will exult over you with loud singing.”  In the face of tragedy, God does not leave us without work to do.  As we repent of our sins, what we shall do is to seek, serve, and share.  But in case that work feels like work, God encourages us in the journey.  Do not fear.  Do not let your hands grow weak.  God will renew you in God’s love.  Our work is laid out before us – we can get out there, seeking, serving, and sharing, because God will renew us in love.  Amen.

---

[i] Kathy Beach-Verhey, “Homiletical Perspective,” Feasting on the Word, Yr. C, Vol. 1 (Louisville: Westminster John Knox Press, 2009),71.