The Rev. Canon Anne E. Kitch
May 28, Easter 7B
Acts 1:15-17, 21-26
One of the highlights of my childhood was the annual Feast of Lights pageant in my parish. It was like a Christmas pageant except it covered more of the story and was presented on the Feast of Epiphany (January 6). It began with creation and followed our salvation story through the birth of Christ to the beginning of the Church. As such it included the calling of the twelve apostles. One of the featured roles was that of Judas. The older children in the pageant each carried a lighted candle. When Judas was named as the one who betrayed Jesus, that person dramatically blew out his candle and ran from the church. He would return later in the pageant dressed as Mathias (an envied costume change).
To this day, I still remember what it felt like to hear “and Judas who betrayed him” and watch that boy blow out his candle. It was as if the light of Christ within him had been extinguished. It was as if Judas no longer existed, as if he had been Xed out.
In her beautiful children’s book The Wind through the Door, Madeline L’Engle writes about a young girl named Meg who meets a cherubim. They are sent on a special mission and Meg learns that she is called to be a Namer: someone who recognizes the true self of others and names them. She is called to help people know who they are. As the Cherubim explains the chief weapon of the fallen angels is un-naming—making people not know who they are. Meg is given the difficult task of naming Mr. Jenkins, her high school principal whom she deplores (and with good reason).
“If I hate Mr. Jenkins whenever I think of him, am I Naming him?” she asks the cherubim.
“You’re Xing him,…when people don’t know who they are, they are open either to be Xed, or Named.”
Did Judas know who he was? Did he fall prey to a fallen angel, to Satan? Was he unnamed? Who was Judas called to be?
Judas has received much attention recently due to a 1700-year-old codex containing a writing called the Gospel of Judas. A brief history: for several hundred years after the death and resurrection of Jesus many people wrote about what they saw or heard or thought had happened. Part of the work of the early church was sorting through these accounts and deciding which had veracity, which held truth and contained God’s revelation. One of these many accounts written was called the Gospel of Judas. This Gospel does not purport to be written by Judas, but rather to be a secret account of a conversation between Jesus and Judas a few days before the crucifixion. Scholars knew it was out there somewhere because other early writers referred to it; most notably Irenaeus, Bishop of Lyon, in 180. So why did this come to light now? Because the document containing this gospel was lost for more than a thousand years. The codex was discovered in Egypt (preserved by the dry dessert heat) and sold as an antiquity. Written in Coptic, it was stored---untranslated. It was sold again and put in a safety deposit box in New York for 16 years--where it deteriorated. Someone found it, restored it, pieced it together, and translated it. This spring it hit the front page of local newspapers. You can read it online or in print from the National Geographic Society---it is only about seven pages long.
One reason at least that this was big news is the number of people who thought it might shed some light on this betrayer of all betrayers. After all, the name Judas is notorious. To be a Judas is not a good thing. The question in almost every news report was, “Was Judas destined to betray Jesus?” But I think our question is an even deeper one. Can Judas be redeemed?
It seems that the early Church was satisfied with the explanation that Judas was somehow preordained to be a betrayer. This is what Peter says in the Book of Acts; “Friends, the scripture had to be fulfilled which the Holy Spirit through David foretold concerning Judas who became a guide for those who arrested Jesus.” Scripture had to be fulfilled. It’s a fine thing for Peter to say. It’s not like he ever betrayed Jesus---or denied him three times, after he swore he never would. It’s not like the other members of “The Twelve” were deserters--who ran away after Jesus was arrested and left him to die on the cross alone (it is the women, and the one beloved disciple who are found at the foot of the cross).
It is after all convenient for Peter, and for us, to have someone to pin it all on. We don’t have to think of our own capacity to deny, to betray. After all, we didn’t do what Judas did. We didn’t betray Christ. We have never disappointed someone we loved, never made a bad choice, never felt pressured by those in power. We have never been less than who we are, never been vulnerable and open to unnaming. We have never been beyond redemption. This is what I truly believe is behind our fascination with Judas. This is what is behind the question, can Judas be redeemed. Can someone who failed so miserably in the very face of Christ be redeemed? Can we be redeemed? This is the real question. Where is the point of no return? When have I crossed the line and am beyond God’s loving salvation?
From the Cherubim Meg learns that the way to name someone is to love them. Not to feel love for them, naming is not an emotional thing, but to love them. To make loving choices towards them. To act with love. How do we love Judas? How do we love Peter? How do we love those who betray us? How do we love ourselves when we betray our very souls? Are we ever beyond redemption? Beyond love? Unlovable? Unnamed?
Judas has captured the imagination of others before now. In 1928 Thornton Wilder published a volume of 3 minute plays (which he wrote in high school and college). One is called Hast Thou Considered my Servant Job? The three characters are Satan, Judas, and Christ. Taking its title from the Book of Job (in which God tells Satan that he may test his faithful servant Job) the prologue of this play suggests that Judas is the servant of Satan, evil and faithless. As God allowed Satan to tempt Job, so Satan allows Christ to tempt Judas. The setting is after Christ’s death. As Christ ascends to his place he pauses by the realm of Satan. Satan expresses his surprise and delight at Christ’s defeat. He can hardly believe how all betrayed this Son of God. And where is his beloved fiend Judas? Judas appears, black ligature marks still visible on his neck. Satan welcomes him home. But rather than crossing to him, Judas casts the thirty pieces away from him in revulsion.
Satan speaks, “What have they done to you, …why don’t you speak to me, my son, my treasure!”
Judas is silent, eyes downcast.
Christ says to him, “Speak to him then, my beloved son.”
Judas speaks softly to Satan, “Accursed be thou, from eternity to eternity.”
The two mount upward to their due place. And Satan remains to this day, uncomprehending, upon the pavement of hell.
After all, Judas did repent. What is offered to all who repent? Where is the end of God’s redeeming power? There is no end to God’s love.
Monday, May 29, 2006
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
The Sixth Sunday of Easter: Endurance
Elizabeth Yale
May 21, 2006
Matthew 22:15-22
John 15:9-17
Endurance
Endurance. It means a lot. “How many more miles,” wonders the tired, torn, churning racer. “How many days left,” wonders the broken, beaten child sitting on the floor of his jail cell, or even just behind a desk watching his teacher, back and forth, back and forth, knowing that summer is just a few more weeks away. “How much longer, how much longer will this last,” wonders the abused child hiding from her father. “How much longer, Lord, how much longer,” wonders the dirty discouraged preacher, “until a break in the clouds.” “How much longer, Lord, how much longer,” wonders the muddled and angry mother, knowing that her baby is crying and hasn’t ever had enough to eat.
Endurance. We tell ourselves one day at a time, one week, one hour! Yet, inside we still sit and wonder how much more, how much longer must we endure? We look for guidance--all we receive from God and the scriptures is: have patience, endure, wait. Four little words which bring us through all the bad times with the hope of something different, perhaps even better. Unfortunately, this is one of the worst times for a new Christian and certainly no easy pickle for an old one either. The world comes crashing down, you fall into the black abyss of pain, and all God can say, or will say, is: have patience, endure wait.
In our impatience, we cry out, wait for what? We need to fix this, we need help, NOW! What will help us later? Things will be better then! Yet, still God remains solid, a rock: have patience, endure, wait. The problems of this world have us calling out to God, what is going on? Why are you not doing something about this? And again God tells us: have patience, endure. But, there is no waiting involved here. No, a little voice, a faint echo, comes back from the great black abyss. Why aren’t you doing anything about it? For that is what you are called to do. And that is what we are called to do. We are here as God’s children, to take care of all God’s children, and to help God’s children to love.
The multitude of feelings, emotions and moments that come out of this working for others, this caring for others, can itself tear us down and build us up. This work and care can confuse us past belief, and then give us sweet moments of epiphany and understanding. Then, we can call out into the black abyss with words of praise, thanksgiving, and rejoicing. Words like, thank you Lord! I can, we can, with your help do something about this and in the process, look who we find, you, God! Persistently, that little voice, the faint echo from beyond the abyss always has the last say. Softly it comes, “See, God does work in the world, he does so through the people, his Children--you.”
In our praise, thanksgiving, and joy, we remember Paul’s words to the Corinthians, that so sadly, we forget in our suffering and pain, and in the suffering and pain all around us. Though we may be afflicted, perplexed, persecuted and struck down, with God on our side, we will never be crushed, driven to despair, forsaken or destroyed. God has given us this Great news: through everything, we can endure. Unfortunately, there are thousands of people, parents, and children, believing themselves to be crushed and forsaken. But that is why we are here: to celebrate the true life God has given us and to share it with others. Through showing, sharing, telling, we show the world that all people are God’s people and that all children are God’s children.
Every single child deserves the very best. They are, after all, all God’s children. We wouldn’t want to treat God with anything less than our best--because we have found God in everyone around us, from the happy child to the lonely older widow. By working with people and walking the road of life, journeying, enduring with them, God calls us to follow Jesus’ commands: to love everyone as God has loved us, and to give to God the things that are God’s. We are called in prayer and in works to do the best we can. Because, it is only by giving our best to all those around us, and to those we reach out to, that we can ever possibly hope to give our best to God. And if you ever fail, and you will, we all do, I have some reminders: laugh, remember that there have always been hard times and you have made it through before, and know that you are never forsaken or destroyed, that with God, and God is always with you, you can take what tomorrow brings. You can endure.
May 21, 2006
Matthew 22:15-22
John 15:9-17
Endurance
Endurance. It means a lot. “How many more miles,” wonders the tired, torn, churning racer. “How many days left,” wonders the broken, beaten child sitting on the floor of his jail cell, or even just behind a desk watching his teacher, back and forth, back and forth, knowing that summer is just a few more weeks away. “How much longer, how much longer will this last,” wonders the abused child hiding from her father. “How much longer, Lord, how much longer,” wonders the dirty discouraged preacher, “until a break in the clouds.” “How much longer, Lord, how much longer,” wonders the muddled and angry mother, knowing that her baby is crying and hasn’t ever had enough to eat.
Endurance. We tell ourselves one day at a time, one week, one hour! Yet, inside we still sit and wonder how much more, how much longer must we endure? We look for guidance--all we receive from God and the scriptures is: have patience, endure, wait. Four little words which bring us through all the bad times with the hope of something different, perhaps even better. Unfortunately, this is one of the worst times for a new Christian and certainly no easy pickle for an old one either. The world comes crashing down, you fall into the black abyss of pain, and all God can say, or will say, is: have patience, endure wait.
In our impatience, we cry out, wait for what? We need to fix this, we need help, NOW! What will help us later? Things will be better then! Yet, still God remains solid, a rock: have patience, endure, wait. The problems of this world have us calling out to God, what is going on? Why are you not doing something about this? And again God tells us: have patience, endure. But, there is no waiting involved here. No, a little voice, a faint echo, comes back from the great black abyss. Why aren’t you doing anything about it? For that is what you are called to do. And that is what we are called to do. We are here as God’s children, to take care of all God’s children, and to help God’s children to love.
The multitude of feelings, emotions and moments that come out of this working for others, this caring for others, can itself tear us down and build us up. This work and care can confuse us past belief, and then give us sweet moments of epiphany and understanding. Then, we can call out into the black abyss with words of praise, thanksgiving, and rejoicing. Words like, thank you Lord! I can, we can, with your help do something about this and in the process, look who we find, you, God! Persistently, that little voice, the faint echo from beyond the abyss always has the last say. Softly it comes, “See, God does work in the world, he does so through the people, his Children--you.”
In our praise, thanksgiving, and joy, we remember Paul’s words to the Corinthians, that so sadly, we forget in our suffering and pain, and in the suffering and pain all around us. Though we may be afflicted, perplexed, persecuted and struck down, with God on our side, we will never be crushed, driven to despair, forsaken or destroyed. God has given us this Great news: through everything, we can endure. Unfortunately, there are thousands of people, parents, and children, believing themselves to be crushed and forsaken. But that is why we are here: to celebrate the true life God has given us and to share it with others. Through showing, sharing, telling, we show the world that all people are God’s people and that all children are God’s children.
Every single child deserves the very best. They are, after all, all God’s children. We wouldn’t want to treat God with anything less than our best--because we have found God in everyone around us, from the happy child to the lonely older widow. By working with people and walking the road of life, journeying, enduring with them, God calls us to follow Jesus’ commands: to love everyone as God has loved us, and to give to God the things that are God’s. We are called in prayer and in works to do the best we can. Because, it is only by giving our best to all those around us, and to those we reach out to, that we can ever possibly hope to give our best to God. And if you ever fail, and you will, we all do, I have some reminders: laugh, remember that there have always been hard times and you have made it through before, and know that you are never forsaken or destroyed, that with God, and God is always with you, you can take what tomorrow brings. You can endure.
Thursday, May 18, 2006
Diaconal Ordination Sermon
Ordination to the Diaconate of Mary Lou Divis and Donna Jean Kiessling
May 17th, 2006
The Rev. Canon Anne E. Kitch
Cathedral Church of the Nativity, Bethlehem, PA
Jeremiah 1:4-9
2 Corinthians 4:1-6
Luke 22:24-27
Who do You Represent
Who do you represent? Why are you here tonight? And, by the way, what does it mean to represent someone? Represent. To re-present. It comes from the Latin praesentare, “to see.” Thus, to re-present is to see again. To represent something means to stand for or symbolize that thing. It can mean to portray. To represent a person means to serve as a delegate or agent for that person, or to act as a spokesperson. So, who do you represent tonight?
“Now the word of the Lord came to me saying, before I formed you in the womb I knew you and before you were born I consecrated you.” Thus begins the call of Jeremiah, the great prophet. More than a call or vocation, his was almost a compulsion. It was no easy road to walk--being God’s prophet during a time of disaster and exile. Jeremiah was often uneasy in his call, if not downright outraged. From the beginning he wants out.
Please, I am only a kid. I really know nothing about this prophet business. Choose someone else, someone older and wiser.
But for God there are no excuses for not being who you are.
Don’t tell me your just a boy. Don’t you think I know who you are? Don’t you think I know what I am doing? I am God, after all. And you shall go to all to whom I send you and you shall speak whatever I command you. I have put my words into your mouth.
Literally with a touch of the holy hand, God places God’s own words into Jeremiah’s mouth. It could hardly be any clearer. It could hardly be any simpler.
It’s as simple as that, Mary Lou and Donna Jean. It is a simple as that, Bishop Paul. It is as simple as that, people gathered. God consecrates, the prophet delivers.
It would be easy to imagine that these lofty words about being consecrated before you were born apply not only to Jeremiah but to Donna Jean and Mary Lou as well. It would be easy in the context of this grand liturgy to think that these two women are somewhat exalted (or about to be.) Easy to think that since before they were born they were destined for this night, and for another night a few months from now when they will be set aside for priestly ministry. It would be easy--and it would let the rest of us off the hook. Because we could imagine that this service had nothing to do with us, with our ministry.
It would be easy to think that Donna Jean and Mary Lou are special because God knows them in particular, knew them in fact from the very beginning. Knew that they had these gifts for ministry. In fact, gave them these gifts and now we as a church community are recognizing these gifts and calling these two women to use them to the fullest. It would be easy to think this and it would be true--but not the whole truth. Because this night is not just about Mary Lou and Donna Jean.
Is there anyone who God doesn’t know intimately? Any one who lacks gifts? Anyone among us who is not called? Who do you represent? Why are you here?
We are here tonight to represent Christ and his Church. At least that’s what it said on my invitation, didn’t it on yours? That’s what it says in the Book of Common Prayer (p. 855 in the Catechism if you want to look it up.) Under the section titled The Ministry, the first question asked is: Who are the ministers of the Church? The answer: lay persons, bishops, priests and deacons. The next four questions are--what is the ministry of the laity, what is the ministry of a bishop, what is the ministry of a priest, and what is the ministry of a deacon. And the answers? The ministry of lay persons is to represent Christ and his Church, to bear witness to him wherever they may be…(so it begins). The ministry of a bishop is to represent Christ and his Church, particularly as apostle…(and so forth). The ministry of a priest is to represent Christ and his Church, particularly as a pastor to the people…(and it goes on). Guess how the ministry of a Deacon begins?
They all begin the same: to represent Christ and his Church. The particulars of how, are distinct for each office. But the call and context are the same. So whether you are here tonight as a lay person, or as a bishop, or as a priest, or as a deacon, or as someone about to become a deacon, we share this purpose. We are all called. Maybe you thought this service tonight was about Mary Lou and Donna Jean, but it’s not. It’s about you. Who do you represent? It’s as simple as that. God calls, we deliver, work done, case closed. What is true for Jeremiah is true for Donna Jean and Mary Lou and is true for the rest of us. God knows us. God knows the gifts we have. God in fact gave us gifts for a reason and I’m quite sure the reason was not so we could sit on them.
All of us are known. All of us are gifted. All of us are called. Not necessary as prophets or as deacons, but each of us with different gifts appointed to different ministries. The goal of each is the same: to do God’s will. To represent Christ. It’s that simple. So why is it so hard, frightening, and intimidating? Why in our hearts of hearts do we want this liturgy to be all about these two women rather than think about our place in ministry?
Thank God, we are not on our own. “Do not be afraid, for I am with you to deliver you,” God says to Jeremiah. And to the early church hundreds of years after Jeremiah the apostle Paul proclaims, “Since it is by God’s mercy that we are engaged in this ministry, we do not lose heart. For we do not proclaim ourselves, we proclaim Jesus Christ as Lord.” It is not for ourselves that we are here. It is not for Mary Lou and Donna Jean. It is for Christ, to represent Christ and his church.
If we are to represent Christ, then we must help the people around us, the world around us, to see again--to see Christ again. To represent Christ is to stand for, symbolize our savior. It is to serve as Christ’s agent and spokesperson. This night is not just about Mary Lou and Donna Jean, it is about all of you here…and those not here. Perhaps tonight is especially about those not here and for those who don’t even know that here is here. We, as a community, set aside these two women for the work of deacons so that the world might know Christ. If we are here to celebrate the gifts of Mary Lou and Donna Jean and not demand that they use them, then we fail at the ministry of the church. If we gather because we are hungry and we know we will get fed, but do not then feed those beyond these walls, we are not the ministers of the Church that God calls us to be.
In preparation for tonight, Mary Lou and Donna Jean practiced preparing the altar. In a few moments, they will set the table for the first time as new deacons. They will reverently and gently set the table and prepare it for all of us to feast. They will prepare the space and by doing that they will prepare us as well. And when the feast is ready, they will serve us. But it will not, it cannot stop here. I hope that over the years of their formation, as they continue to learn to identify and use their gifts, as they become more and more the people God knows them to be, they will set many tables. I hope they will prepare many communities to receive the feast. And I hope this about all of you here tonight: that you too will use your gifts to prepare tables and spaces where people may come to know Christ. I pray that you will represent Christ and introduce others to the King and messiah who said, “I am among you as one who serves.”
The ministry of a deacon is “to represent Christ and his church, particularly as a servant of those in need.” Mary Lou and Donna Jean, I expect you to serve others with love and competence, daring and persistence, holy humor (and sometimes chocolate.)
The duty of all Christians is “to follow Christ, to come together week by week for corporate worship, to work, pray and give for the spread of the kingdom of God.” (BCP p. 856) Know yourself as God knows you. Discover and revel in the gifts God gave you. Represent Christ with all that you are and all that you have.
Amen.
May 17th, 2006
The Rev. Canon Anne E. Kitch
Cathedral Church of the Nativity, Bethlehem, PA
Jeremiah 1:4-9
2 Corinthians 4:1-6
Luke 22:24-27
Who do You Represent
Who do you represent? Why are you here tonight? And, by the way, what does it mean to represent someone? Represent. To re-present. It comes from the Latin praesentare, “to see.” Thus, to re-present is to see again. To represent something means to stand for or symbolize that thing. It can mean to portray. To represent a person means to serve as a delegate or agent for that person, or to act as a spokesperson. So, who do you represent tonight?
“Now the word of the Lord came to me saying, before I formed you in the womb I knew you and before you were born I consecrated you.” Thus begins the call of Jeremiah, the great prophet. More than a call or vocation, his was almost a compulsion. It was no easy road to walk--being God’s prophet during a time of disaster and exile. Jeremiah was often uneasy in his call, if not downright outraged. From the beginning he wants out.
Please, I am only a kid. I really know nothing about this prophet business. Choose someone else, someone older and wiser.
But for God there are no excuses for not being who you are.
Don’t tell me your just a boy. Don’t you think I know who you are? Don’t you think I know what I am doing? I am God, after all. And you shall go to all to whom I send you and you shall speak whatever I command you. I have put my words into your mouth.
Literally with a touch of the holy hand, God places God’s own words into Jeremiah’s mouth. It could hardly be any clearer. It could hardly be any simpler.
It’s as simple as that, Mary Lou and Donna Jean. It is a simple as that, Bishop Paul. It is as simple as that, people gathered. God consecrates, the prophet delivers.
It would be easy to imagine that these lofty words about being consecrated before you were born apply not only to Jeremiah but to Donna Jean and Mary Lou as well. It would be easy in the context of this grand liturgy to think that these two women are somewhat exalted (or about to be.) Easy to think that since before they were born they were destined for this night, and for another night a few months from now when they will be set aside for priestly ministry. It would be easy--and it would let the rest of us off the hook. Because we could imagine that this service had nothing to do with us, with our ministry.
It would be easy to think that Donna Jean and Mary Lou are special because God knows them in particular, knew them in fact from the very beginning. Knew that they had these gifts for ministry. In fact, gave them these gifts and now we as a church community are recognizing these gifts and calling these two women to use them to the fullest. It would be easy to think this and it would be true--but not the whole truth. Because this night is not just about Mary Lou and Donna Jean.
Is there anyone who God doesn’t know intimately? Any one who lacks gifts? Anyone among us who is not called? Who do you represent? Why are you here?
We are here tonight to represent Christ and his Church. At least that’s what it said on my invitation, didn’t it on yours? That’s what it says in the Book of Common Prayer (p. 855 in the Catechism if you want to look it up.) Under the section titled The Ministry, the first question asked is: Who are the ministers of the Church? The answer: lay persons, bishops, priests and deacons. The next four questions are--what is the ministry of the laity, what is the ministry of a bishop, what is the ministry of a priest, and what is the ministry of a deacon. And the answers? The ministry of lay persons is to represent Christ and his Church, to bear witness to him wherever they may be…(so it begins). The ministry of a bishop is to represent Christ and his Church, particularly as apostle…(and so forth). The ministry of a priest is to represent Christ and his Church, particularly as a pastor to the people…(and it goes on). Guess how the ministry of a Deacon begins?
They all begin the same: to represent Christ and his Church. The particulars of how, are distinct for each office. But the call and context are the same. So whether you are here tonight as a lay person, or as a bishop, or as a priest, or as a deacon, or as someone about to become a deacon, we share this purpose. We are all called. Maybe you thought this service tonight was about Mary Lou and Donna Jean, but it’s not. It’s about you. Who do you represent? It’s as simple as that. God calls, we deliver, work done, case closed. What is true for Jeremiah is true for Donna Jean and Mary Lou and is true for the rest of us. God knows us. God knows the gifts we have. God in fact gave us gifts for a reason and I’m quite sure the reason was not so we could sit on them.
All of us are known. All of us are gifted. All of us are called. Not necessary as prophets or as deacons, but each of us with different gifts appointed to different ministries. The goal of each is the same: to do God’s will. To represent Christ. It’s that simple. So why is it so hard, frightening, and intimidating? Why in our hearts of hearts do we want this liturgy to be all about these two women rather than think about our place in ministry?
Thank God, we are not on our own. “Do not be afraid, for I am with you to deliver you,” God says to Jeremiah. And to the early church hundreds of years after Jeremiah the apostle Paul proclaims, “Since it is by God’s mercy that we are engaged in this ministry, we do not lose heart. For we do not proclaim ourselves, we proclaim Jesus Christ as Lord.” It is not for ourselves that we are here. It is not for Mary Lou and Donna Jean. It is for Christ, to represent Christ and his church.
If we are to represent Christ, then we must help the people around us, the world around us, to see again--to see Christ again. To represent Christ is to stand for, symbolize our savior. It is to serve as Christ’s agent and spokesperson. This night is not just about Mary Lou and Donna Jean, it is about all of you here…and those not here. Perhaps tonight is especially about those not here and for those who don’t even know that here is here. We, as a community, set aside these two women for the work of deacons so that the world might know Christ. If we are here to celebrate the gifts of Mary Lou and Donna Jean and not demand that they use them, then we fail at the ministry of the church. If we gather because we are hungry and we know we will get fed, but do not then feed those beyond these walls, we are not the ministers of the Church that God calls us to be.
In preparation for tonight, Mary Lou and Donna Jean practiced preparing the altar. In a few moments, they will set the table for the first time as new deacons. They will reverently and gently set the table and prepare it for all of us to feast. They will prepare the space and by doing that they will prepare us as well. And when the feast is ready, they will serve us. But it will not, it cannot stop here. I hope that over the years of their formation, as they continue to learn to identify and use their gifts, as they become more and more the people God knows them to be, they will set many tables. I hope they will prepare many communities to receive the feast. And I hope this about all of you here tonight: that you too will use your gifts to prepare tables and spaces where people may come to know Christ. I pray that you will represent Christ and introduce others to the King and messiah who said, “I am among you as one who serves.”
The ministry of a deacon is “to represent Christ and his church, particularly as a servant of those in need.” Mary Lou and Donna Jean, I expect you to serve others with love and competence, daring and persistence, holy humor (and sometimes chocolate.)
The duty of all Christians is “to follow Christ, to come together week by week for corporate worship, to work, pray and give for the spread of the kingdom of God.” (BCP p. 856) Know yourself as God knows you. Discover and revel in the gifts God gave you. Represent Christ with all that you are and all that you have.
Amen.
Monday, May 08, 2006
The Fourth Sunday of Easter: Lambs or Lions?
The Ven. Richard I Cluett
May 7, 2006
Acts 4:4:4-14; 1John 3:16-24; John 10:11-18
I know that the images of sheep and shepherd appear frequently in scripture - in-cluding today’s lessons on “Shepherding Sunday” - But it occurs to me that 21st century Americans don't really identify with sheep. Our images have to do with different animals. As an example, our cars are identified as mustangs and jaguars. Its a little hard to imagine an “eight cylinder Sheep”!
The names we give to our school mascots and sport teams don’t have to do with sheep. Can you imagine the “Liberty Lambs” or the “Freedom Fawns”? Instead, mascots are lions, tigers, bears. I did part of my seminary training at Yale, and the Yale mascot is the “bull dog”. After the occasional touchdown by the Yale football team, the stands erupt into a rendition of “Bull dog, bull dog, bow wow wow, Eli Yale!” Its a little hard to imagine the singing of “sheep, sheep, baa, baa, baa, Eli Yale!”
In our day we seem to want images of strength, speed, aggressiveness, quick-ness, alertness, domination. We like to see ourselves as dynamic, in control self-sufficient. Not sheep-like!
Well, are we strong enough, quick enough, alert enough, shrewd enough, to deal with whatever life holds for us? Do we have the “Right Stuff”; do we have what it takes...?”
How does that image relate to the person we really, deep down, know ourselves to be? Are we really wild cats, bears, lions, or tigers when we reflect on who we are or what we are?
There is another Yale song, usually sung towards the end of the evening. Its called the “Whiffenpoof Song”. Whiffenpoof?! The theme song of battling bulldogs? “We are poor little lambs who have lost our way. We are little black sheep who have gone astray... God have mercy on such as we...Baa, baa, baa.”
Maudlin, to be sure, but the lamb image does have an insight into the frailties of our human nature.
The image of the Good shepherd raises serious questions about power. In some ways we feel not as super-persons, but rather as pawns in a power game (at work, at school, as a citizen, perhaps in life, itself) who could use a caretaker.
Are we more like lambs that have gone astray than like lions that exercise domin-ion, or bulldogs that have the world by the tail? Can we hear, know, understand what it means when Jesus says, “I am the good shepherd.”
In one of the optional lessons for today, Ezekiel prophecies in the name of God, “I am the good shepherd.” Then he describes others who claim to be shepherds. “The weak you have not strengthened, the sick you have not healed, the crippled you have not bound up, the strayed you have not brought back, the lost you have not sought; and with force and harshness have you ruled them.”
He goes on to say that the shepherding of God will be “as a shepherd seeks out his flock when some of his sheep have been scattered abroad, so will I seek out my sheep and I will rescue them from all places where they have been scat¬tered...” Jesus says that there will be “one flock and one shep¬herd.”
God has brought you and me from our lost-ness and scattered-ness into the Church, into the community of faith, into his flock, into the fold, into his king-dom, into his life. We are not meant to be alone, isolated, from God or from one another. We are part of a community that gives us our identity, nurtures us, strengthens us, comforts us, challenges us, and encourages us.
It is the shepherd who draws us into this flock, who finds us when we are lost, heals us when we are wounded, restores us when we have separated ourselves from the flock. The shepherd is Jesus.
If the image of the shepherd points to the nature of God, points to the way of Jesus, it also points to us. Perhaps true power and true humility are found in the same person. Both were found in Jesus. Both were given to his continuing pres-ence, the Church. Those of us who follow him are also called to a life of true hu-mility and true power.
When Jesus says that he is the Good Shepherd, he is telling us how we are to be. We are to be involved with dirty hands and sweat. We are to confront the false shep¬herds who scatter or lead the sheep astray. We are to search out those who are lost; those who have no hope; those who have wandered away from safety. We are to share with the hungry and bring them to water. We are to see that there is shelter from the storms. We are even to offer our lives for their sake.
“O God, grant that when we hear His voice we may know Him who calls us each by name, and may follow where he leads.” Amen.
May 7, 2006
Acts 4:4:4-14; 1John 3:16-24; John 10:11-18
I know that the images of sheep and shepherd appear frequently in scripture - in-cluding today’s lessons on “Shepherding Sunday” - But it occurs to me that 21st century Americans don't really identify with sheep. Our images have to do with different animals. As an example, our cars are identified as mustangs and jaguars. Its a little hard to imagine an “eight cylinder Sheep”!
The names we give to our school mascots and sport teams don’t have to do with sheep. Can you imagine the “Liberty Lambs” or the “Freedom Fawns”? Instead, mascots are lions, tigers, bears. I did part of my seminary training at Yale, and the Yale mascot is the “bull dog”. After the occasional touchdown by the Yale football team, the stands erupt into a rendition of “Bull dog, bull dog, bow wow wow, Eli Yale!” Its a little hard to imagine the singing of “sheep, sheep, baa, baa, baa, Eli Yale!”
In our day we seem to want images of strength, speed, aggressiveness, quick-ness, alertness, domination. We like to see ourselves as dynamic, in control self-sufficient. Not sheep-like!
Well, are we strong enough, quick enough, alert enough, shrewd enough, to deal with whatever life holds for us? Do we have the “Right Stuff”; do we have what it takes...?”
How does that image relate to the person we really, deep down, know ourselves to be? Are we really wild cats, bears, lions, or tigers when we reflect on who we are or what we are?
There is another Yale song, usually sung towards the end of the evening. Its called the “Whiffenpoof Song”. Whiffenpoof?! The theme song of battling bulldogs? “We are poor little lambs who have lost our way. We are little black sheep who have gone astray... God have mercy on such as we...Baa, baa, baa.”
Maudlin, to be sure, but the lamb image does have an insight into the frailties of our human nature.
The image of the Good shepherd raises serious questions about power. In some ways we feel not as super-persons, but rather as pawns in a power game (at work, at school, as a citizen, perhaps in life, itself) who could use a caretaker.
Are we more like lambs that have gone astray than like lions that exercise domin-ion, or bulldogs that have the world by the tail? Can we hear, know, understand what it means when Jesus says, “I am the good shepherd.”
In one of the optional lessons for today, Ezekiel prophecies in the name of God, “I am the good shepherd.” Then he describes others who claim to be shepherds. “The weak you have not strengthened, the sick you have not healed, the crippled you have not bound up, the strayed you have not brought back, the lost you have not sought; and with force and harshness have you ruled them.”
He goes on to say that the shepherding of God will be “as a shepherd seeks out his flock when some of his sheep have been scattered abroad, so will I seek out my sheep and I will rescue them from all places where they have been scat¬tered...” Jesus says that there will be “one flock and one shep¬herd.”
God has brought you and me from our lost-ness and scattered-ness into the Church, into the community of faith, into his flock, into the fold, into his king-dom, into his life. We are not meant to be alone, isolated, from God or from one another. We are part of a community that gives us our identity, nurtures us, strengthens us, comforts us, challenges us, and encourages us.
It is the shepherd who draws us into this flock, who finds us when we are lost, heals us when we are wounded, restores us when we have separated ourselves from the flock. The shepherd is Jesus.
If the image of the shepherd points to the nature of God, points to the way of Jesus, it also points to us. Perhaps true power and true humility are found in the same person. Both were found in Jesus. Both were given to his continuing pres-ence, the Church. Those of us who follow him are also called to a life of true hu-mility and true power.
When Jesus says that he is the Good Shepherd, he is telling us how we are to be. We are to be involved with dirty hands and sweat. We are to confront the false shep¬herds who scatter or lead the sheep astray. We are to search out those who are lost; those who have no hope; those who have wandered away from safety. We are to share with the hungry and bring them to water. We are to see that there is shelter from the storms. We are even to offer our lives for their sake.
“O God, grant that when we hear His voice we may know Him who calls us each by name, and may follow where he leads.” Amen.
Saturday, May 06, 2006
Sermon preached on the occasion of The Annual Eucharist for the Altar Guild
The Ven. Richard I. Cluett
May 6, 2006
1Kings 7:48-8:5 Psalm 84 Luke 2:41-51
The mystery surrounding the Holy unfolds to those who serve on the Altar Guild.
In the narthex of Christ Church in Corning, NY, which is a dark shadowy place, there are some small stained glass windows. One window, if my memory serves me, contains a vase of flowers and some altar linens. As you might imagine the window was given to honor the work of the Altar Guild; given by a woman who had served on an altar guild for 65 of her 75 years.
Personally for her it symbolized a 65 year vo¬cation – and the ministry of all members of the altar guild, who carry out the tasks of setting the table, doing the dishes, and ar¬ranging the flowers, mak¬ing the sanctuary beautiful for God and for the people of God. A woman of considerable wealth, who in her own home, paid others to set the table, do the dishes, and ar¬range the flowers. But for the ministry of the altar, for the sacra¬mental ministry of the community of Jesus, no task was too menial, no job too humble. For 65 years she polished, prepared and put away Holy Things.
And God honors the work and the hands of all who do so – and so do I. The congregation will never know the details of the work you do, nor will they know the gift you make in your offering, or the blessing you receive. But I know. All priests know. We are partners in this ministry of the sacristy and sanctuary.
The spirituality of the sanctuary and the sacristy is where the Altar Guild assists with the heart and soul of worship. Altar Guild service is a privileged discipline, a service of love, and an offering of time. An integral part of the guild is to make sure the linens are cleansed, the vessels are polished and in place, the sacramental bread available, the wine ready, and the vestments laid out.
The beauty of holy things isn’t always as easily discernible to those removed from the intimacy involved in the ministry of the sacristy and the sanctuary. The intimacy of the sacristy can be compared, rightly I think, to the intimacy of bathing a child or another beloved. Holy things have been touched by the sacred, and those whose lives are drawn to the sacred will find them beautiful, even in their mundane usefulness.
Holy things remind us of the living God; for they have his mark, his touch, and are not just items of beauty or usefulness, empty of meaning. Rather, they bring into the dailyness of our lives, the presence of the Living God. You are privileged and blessed in preparing the Holy Things of God for the people of God.
The mystery surrounding the Holy unfolds to those who serve on the Altar Guild.
May 6, 2006
1Kings 7:48-8:5 Psalm 84 Luke 2:41-51
The mystery surrounding the Holy unfolds to those who serve on the Altar Guild.
In the narthex of Christ Church in Corning, NY, which is a dark shadowy place, there are some small stained glass windows. One window, if my memory serves me, contains a vase of flowers and some altar linens. As you might imagine the window was given to honor the work of the Altar Guild; given by a woman who had served on an altar guild for 65 of her 75 years.
Personally for her it symbolized a 65 year vo¬cation – and the ministry of all members of the altar guild, who carry out the tasks of setting the table, doing the dishes, and ar¬ranging the flowers, mak¬ing the sanctuary beautiful for God and for the people of God. A woman of considerable wealth, who in her own home, paid others to set the table, do the dishes, and ar¬range the flowers. But for the ministry of the altar, for the sacra¬mental ministry of the community of Jesus, no task was too menial, no job too humble. For 65 years she polished, prepared and put away Holy Things.
And God honors the work and the hands of all who do so – and so do I. The congregation will never know the details of the work you do, nor will they know the gift you make in your offering, or the blessing you receive. But I know. All priests know. We are partners in this ministry of the sacristy and sanctuary.
The spirituality of the sanctuary and the sacristy is where the Altar Guild assists with the heart and soul of worship. Altar Guild service is a privileged discipline, a service of love, and an offering of time. An integral part of the guild is to make sure the linens are cleansed, the vessels are polished and in place, the sacramental bread available, the wine ready, and the vestments laid out.
The beauty of holy things isn’t always as easily discernible to those removed from the intimacy involved in the ministry of the sacristy and the sanctuary. The intimacy of the sacristy can be compared, rightly I think, to the intimacy of bathing a child or another beloved. Holy things have been touched by the sacred, and those whose lives are drawn to the sacred will find them beautiful, even in their mundane usefulness.
Holy things remind us of the living God; for they have his mark, his touch, and are not just items of beauty or usefulness, empty of meaning. Rather, they bring into the dailyness of our lives, the presence of the Living God. You are privileged and blessed in preparing the Holy Things of God for the people of God.
The mystery surrounding the Holy unfolds to those who serve on the Altar Guild.
Friday, May 05, 2006
The Third Sunday of Easter: What kind of Savior are you Looking For?
St. Timothy’s, Creve Coeur, Missouri
April 30, 2006
Luke 24:36-48
What kind of a savior are you looking for? As for me, I want someone steady: a rock. Now I think a kind, comfy rock would be nice. One you can lean into and find comfort. One that will put loving arms around you and brush your hair back and tell you that it will be all right. But a rock nonetheless. I want someone strong, dependable and always available. I want someone I can count on whenever I fall apart, or get scared, or overwhelmed. This someone I’m thinking of never falls apart or gets scared or overwhelmed. After all, what good is a vulnerable savior? How can my savior take care of me if that rock is not steady 24/7?
What about you? What kind of a savior are you looking for? Someone who will fight for you or lead you to victory or heal your wounds? Are you looking for a knight in white armor, or a western frontier hero or an inspired political leader? Perhaps it is a miracle worker, or a beacon for global reconciliation or a prophet that makes your savior short-list. Or all of the above? Or someone who will die for you? Now wait a minute--what good is a dead savior? No, give me the one who fights all the demons and wins. Give me the one who is triumphant. I want the one who never falters.
What kind of a savior do you suppose the disciples were looking for? Clearly there were a variety of views among them. Some were looking for a great leader. Some hoped for the return of King David. Some expected a prophet, others a healer. I expect some of their visions are similar to ours: a rock, a warrior, a miracle worker. But even those who believed in their heart of hearts that Jesus was it--the messiah--the one who would save them all--they never got it. Peter, the one who first calls Jesus Messiah when Jesus asks, “Who do you say that I am?” is also the one who rebukes Jesus when our Lord talked about dying. “Get behind me Satan!” Jesus has to say to him. But Peter doesn’t understand. A dead savior? No thank you.
But that’s exactly what they got: a savior, a messiah, who was vulnerable. A savior who was overwhelmed and overcome and broken. A savior who didn’t just die, or offer up his life in some heroic action leading the charge against the enemy or taking the bullet to spare us. This savior, this Jesus was captured and beaten and killed. Dead—desecrated-- and buried. And that was the end of it. Or so they thought. Then comes Easter.
It is still Easter by the way. We celebrate if for 50 days. The great 50 days we call it. And it is still that first Easter day when this story from our gospel takes place. Recall how Luke tells the story. In the early dawn on the first day of the week the women find the empty tomb. They meet two men-in-white who tell them that Jesus has risen. They run and tell the others who do not believe them. Now that same day two of the disciples were going to the village of Emmaus talking about all this. Along the way they meet a stranger who asks them what they are discussing. They reach their destination early evening, invite the stranger to eat with them, and as he breaks the bread he is suddenly revealed to them as Jesus. And then in the next moment, he simply vanishes.
Astonished by what they have seen, they run the seven miles back to Jerusalem (OK maybe they walked fast). They find the others who say, “Have you heard? The Lord has risen indeed!” And they say, “Have we got a story for you…we’ve seen him!” As they are talking, suddenly he is there. Just there. While they were talking about this, Jesus himself stood among them and said to them, “Peace be with you.” They were startled and terrified. (Luke 24:36)
Now I have to tell you--if we don’t want a savior who suffers and dies, and they didn’t understand a savior who suffered and died, how do you suppose they felt about a resurrected one? I think startled and terrified don’t quite make it! Honestly, a ghost might have been easier to take than a live, just-got-back-from-being-dead, honest-to-God resurrected messiah. It is sometimes hard to place ourselves in the shoes of those first disciples. We have so many images of Jesus, but all of them carry the stamp of the resurrected one. We know that part of the story already. But those first disciples did not. Those who believed Jesus was the messiah before the crucifixion, thought what they saw was what they got. They expected great things of their teacher, mentor, and friend. But the real encounter with the real resurrected one could not have been what they thought it would be. I am sure some of them spent the rest of their lives trying to get their minds around it.
And this is why we take 50 days for Easter. It is not just because Pentecost comes on the calendar 50 days from now. It is because the resurrection is shocking and startling and terrifying. No matter how many years we have lived this story, we still need time to understand it. It is a great mystery.
Jesus is our savoir. But what kind of a savior do we want? Or perhaps the more important question is, what kind of a savior do we need? Apparently one who is vulnerable. Apparently one who can be beaten down. Apparently one who dies. Because that is what we have in Jesus. And this is why. Because without a dead savior, we do not get a resurrected one. A Jesus who got off the cross and triumphantly put his foes to flight would have been victorious over the Roman officials and the Religious hierarchy of 1st century Palestine. A Jesus who stood up to the authorities of his day and became a new leader who reformed the religious institutions, brought food to the poor, justice to the downtrodden and healing to the sick would have created a better society around the city of Jerusalem. Things would have gone on well for a time. But then what?
But a Jesus who suffered and died and was buried and stayed dead and after three days was resurrected, that Jesus, that messiah, that Christ conquered more. That savior says there is nothing in this world, no evil, no hate, no horrifying death, that God’s love cannot overcome. God’s love conquers hate. God’s love overcomes sin. God’s love ensures that not even death has the last word. A savior like that ensures that there is no dark place that I can be that God has not also been. There is no depth to which I can fall, that God will not be there with me. There is no place of devastation that I can be in that is not redeemable by God. Now that is a savior worth living for.
When Jesus stands there and asks if there is anything to eat in the house, he is showing them that he is no ghost, no joke, no phantom of wishful thinking. He is nothing less than the one who not even death could stop. He is nothing less than the one who comes again to those he loves and offers peace. And even that is not then end of the story; or of our story. “You are witnesses of these things,” Jesus tells those gathered around him that Easter day evening. Repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in the name of the messiah and you are witnesses to these things. In Luke’s account this is the final appearance of Jesus. He has no other message or words of wisdom for his disciples. “You are witnesses of these things.”
And what do you suppose those witnesses were meant to do? Well, we know what they did because we are here. They told the story. They told the story about a vulnerable savior who laid down his life for them, and for us. They told the story of a savior whose love for humankind overcame hate and death. They proclaimed that repentance and forgiveness are available for all of us. They healed the sick, cared for the poor, created communities founded on the Good News of this resurrected Christ.
In our Baptismal Covenant we are asked, “Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ?” We also are witnesses to Easter. We also are called to tell the story. We are called to live lives in the assurance, the blessed assurance, that this incredible love is for us. What kind of savior do you want? What kind savior do you need? What kind of savior do you have? What kind of savior will you witness to?
In God’s Holy Name,
Amen
April 30, 2006
Luke 24:36-48
What kind of a savior are you looking for? As for me, I want someone steady: a rock. Now I think a kind, comfy rock would be nice. One you can lean into and find comfort. One that will put loving arms around you and brush your hair back and tell you that it will be all right. But a rock nonetheless. I want someone strong, dependable and always available. I want someone I can count on whenever I fall apart, or get scared, or overwhelmed. This someone I’m thinking of never falls apart or gets scared or overwhelmed. After all, what good is a vulnerable savior? How can my savior take care of me if that rock is not steady 24/7?
What about you? What kind of a savior are you looking for? Someone who will fight for you or lead you to victory or heal your wounds? Are you looking for a knight in white armor, or a western frontier hero or an inspired political leader? Perhaps it is a miracle worker, or a beacon for global reconciliation or a prophet that makes your savior short-list. Or all of the above? Or someone who will die for you? Now wait a minute--what good is a dead savior? No, give me the one who fights all the demons and wins. Give me the one who is triumphant. I want the one who never falters.
What kind of a savior do you suppose the disciples were looking for? Clearly there were a variety of views among them. Some were looking for a great leader. Some hoped for the return of King David. Some expected a prophet, others a healer. I expect some of their visions are similar to ours: a rock, a warrior, a miracle worker. But even those who believed in their heart of hearts that Jesus was it--the messiah--the one who would save them all--they never got it. Peter, the one who first calls Jesus Messiah when Jesus asks, “Who do you say that I am?” is also the one who rebukes Jesus when our Lord talked about dying. “Get behind me Satan!” Jesus has to say to him. But Peter doesn’t understand. A dead savior? No thank you.
But that’s exactly what they got: a savior, a messiah, who was vulnerable. A savior who was overwhelmed and overcome and broken. A savior who didn’t just die, or offer up his life in some heroic action leading the charge against the enemy or taking the bullet to spare us. This savior, this Jesus was captured and beaten and killed. Dead—desecrated-- and buried. And that was the end of it. Or so they thought. Then comes Easter.
It is still Easter by the way. We celebrate if for 50 days. The great 50 days we call it. And it is still that first Easter day when this story from our gospel takes place. Recall how Luke tells the story. In the early dawn on the first day of the week the women find the empty tomb. They meet two men-in-white who tell them that Jesus has risen. They run and tell the others who do not believe them. Now that same day two of the disciples were going to the village of Emmaus talking about all this. Along the way they meet a stranger who asks them what they are discussing. They reach their destination early evening, invite the stranger to eat with them, and as he breaks the bread he is suddenly revealed to them as Jesus. And then in the next moment, he simply vanishes.
Astonished by what they have seen, they run the seven miles back to Jerusalem (OK maybe they walked fast). They find the others who say, “Have you heard? The Lord has risen indeed!” And they say, “Have we got a story for you…we’ve seen him!” As they are talking, suddenly he is there. Just there. While they were talking about this, Jesus himself stood among them and said to them, “Peace be with you.” They were startled and terrified. (Luke 24:36)
Now I have to tell you--if we don’t want a savior who suffers and dies, and they didn’t understand a savior who suffered and died, how do you suppose they felt about a resurrected one? I think startled and terrified don’t quite make it! Honestly, a ghost might have been easier to take than a live, just-got-back-from-being-dead, honest-to-God resurrected messiah. It is sometimes hard to place ourselves in the shoes of those first disciples. We have so many images of Jesus, but all of them carry the stamp of the resurrected one. We know that part of the story already. But those first disciples did not. Those who believed Jesus was the messiah before the crucifixion, thought what they saw was what they got. They expected great things of their teacher, mentor, and friend. But the real encounter with the real resurrected one could not have been what they thought it would be. I am sure some of them spent the rest of their lives trying to get their minds around it.
And this is why we take 50 days for Easter. It is not just because Pentecost comes on the calendar 50 days from now. It is because the resurrection is shocking and startling and terrifying. No matter how many years we have lived this story, we still need time to understand it. It is a great mystery.
Jesus is our savoir. But what kind of a savior do we want? Or perhaps the more important question is, what kind of a savior do we need? Apparently one who is vulnerable. Apparently one who can be beaten down. Apparently one who dies. Because that is what we have in Jesus. And this is why. Because without a dead savior, we do not get a resurrected one. A Jesus who got off the cross and triumphantly put his foes to flight would have been victorious over the Roman officials and the Religious hierarchy of 1st century Palestine. A Jesus who stood up to the authorities of his day and became a new leader who reformed the religious institutions, brought food to the poor, justice to the downtrodden and healing to the sick would have created a better society around the city of Jerusalem. Things would have gone on well for a time. But then what?
But a Jesus who suffered and died and was buried and stayed dead and after three days was resurrected, that Jesus, that messiah, that Christ conquered more. That savior says there is nothing in this world, no evil, no hate, no horrifying death, that God’s love cannot overcome. God’s love conquers hate. God’s love overcomes sin. God’s love ensures that not even death has the last word. A savior like that ensures that there is no dark place that I can be that God has not also been. There is no depth to which I can fall, that God will not be there with me. There is no place of devastation that I can be in that is not redeemable by God. Now that is a savior worth living for.
When Jesus stands there and asks if there is anything to eat in the house, he is showing them that he is no ghost, no joke, no phantom of wishful thinking. He is nothing less than the one who not even death could stop. He is nothing less than the one who comes again to those he loves and offers peace. And even that is not then end of the story; or of our story. “You are witnesses of these things,” Jesus tells those gathered around him that Easter day evening. Repentance and forgiveness of sins is to be proclaimed in the name of the messiah and you are witnesses to these things. In Luke’s account this is the final appearance of Jesus. He has no other message or words of wisdom for his disciples. “You are witnesses of these things.”
And what do you suppose those witnesses were meant to do? Well, we know what they did because we are here. They told the story. They told the story about a vulnerable savior who laid down his life for them, and for us. They told the story of a savior whose love for humankind overcame hate and death. They proclaimed that repentance and forgiveness are available for all of us. They healed the sick, cared for the poor, created communities founded on the Good News of this resurrected Christ.
In our Baptismal Covenant we are asked, “Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ?” We also are witnesses to Easter. We also are called to tell the story. We are called to live lives in the assurance, the blessed assurance, that this incredible love is for us. What kind of savior do you want? What kind savior do you need? What kind of savior do you have? What kind of savior will you witness to?
In God’s Holy Name,
Amen
Monday, May 01, 2006
The Third Sunday of Easter: A story about two birdcages
The Rev. Canon Joel Atkinson
April 30, 2006
I’d like to tell you a story about two birdcages.
The stories say lots concerning the meaning of Easter.
I’m going over there to pick up the first cage.
Do you see it?
It’s a cage like “Tweety Bird” took refuge in
from that mean old cat “Sylvester”
in those wondrous colored cartoons of our youth.
Here I’m picking it up.
Take a look with me.
Those adults present who can’t see the cage
please hold your cynicism in abeyance
and listen to me
while I examine this most special cage.
Listen and I’ll tell you what I see.
It appears to be a brand spanking new birdcage.
The bars are spaced so that even the tiniest of birds
could never escape from this cage.
Now there is something very peculiar about what I see.
What use is a birdcage without a door?
Did you notice there wasn’t a door?
I couldn’t put a bird in there even if I wanted to!
As I’ve been examining this cage
there is something even more peculiar.
Look at the bottom of the cage.
Do you see it?
There’s an eggshell
of a recently hatched bird.
Where’s the bird?
There’s no door to the cage!
There’s no way through the very narrowly spaced bars!
Yet, at the bottom of the cage are the remnants of an eggshell.
Here, I’ll hold the cage so you can see where that bird might have hidden.
Do you see the bird?
Neither do I! The bird isn’t in the cage.
I would like to meet a bird that can hatch from the confinement of its shell
into an escape-proof cage
and then just simply disappear from sight.
Where did it go?
Again I must say,
I would like to meet a bird like that.
That bird sounds remarkably like
that escape Jesus made
and we celebrated on Easter Eve.
The birdcage I described
was like one painted by Rene Magritte
a Belgian surrealist painter.
In this and in other works of his
this postal worker who painted in the dining room of his house
painted images that guide our minds to see realities
that transcend
the obviousness of the concreteness of the world, which surrounds.
In his painting of the empty birdcage
we are lead to see both the impossibility
and the reality of the empty tomb.
Let’s see, I think I’ll place this cage over here.
Right there is a good spot.
There’s another cage – do you see it?
It’s not nearly as nice as the first.
It’s all rusty and bent in places.
The bars aren’t evenly spaced and as close together as in first.
Why look, it’s even got a door.
Bear with me for a moment and I’ll walk over and pick it up.
I’ve got it! I’ll hold it so you can see it.
This ugly old cage looks like it’s ready for nothing but the trash bin.
Looking at it closely I’m reminded of a story.
On an Easter Sunday morning
a pastor at a church in New England
was walking to begin Sunday services.
On the way he saw a young boy coming toward him
with a cage exactly like this one.
As he drew closer
he noticed several birds thrashing in fear
as they sought escape from the confines of the cage.
Taking time out from his walk
he stopped the boy
and asked him what he intended to do with the birds.
“Mister,” the boy replied
“I am going to play with them.
I am going to make them angry and fight with one another.
I am going to pull out their feathers and hurt them.”
“That’s terrible,” the pastor thought.
The he said to the boy “Then what are you going to do?”
Answering his own question
he said to the boy
“You’re going to let them go aren’t you?”
“No!” he said enthusiastically
“there’re lots of hungry cats in the neighborhood
soooo I’m going to feed them to the cats!”
At this last statement the pastor slid his hand into the vest pocket of his jacket
and said “Son, what do you think those three birds are worth?”
“Well mister” he replied, naming a gargantuan sum for one so young.
“They’re worth ten dollars!”
The pastor pulled out his wallet took out a ten dollar bill
and quietly the exchange took place.
Each seemed satisfied with the deal they’d made
though as the boy walked away he waved his ten dollar bill
gloating at the stupidity of the adult he’d pulled a shame upon.
Looking back the boy shouted, as if to rub it in,
“Mister they’re only common field birds with no color at all.
Why they can’t even sing a pretty song!”
The pastor with his prize
walked quietly to a grassy place
by the side of a large tree
that would be hospitable to the three tiny birds.
Then he kneeled, opened the door of the rusty old birdcage,
and gently urged them fly away into the freedom…the life
he’d purchased for them.
On that Easter Sunday he preached one of his best sermons.
The two cages both speak to me of the meaning of Easter.
I am going to place them side-by-side
and I will try not to forget their story.
The challenge becomes for me…for us…
how do we make the story conveyed by the two cages real in our lives?
For me their reality comes
in seeking in my life
to live into the challenge
contained in the words of two extraordinary human beings.
Listen to the words the first extraordinary human being, Archbishop Desmond Tutu,
spoke in addressing the church:
“The compassion of Jesus was not just a passing feeling that made him feel pity
but left him wringing his hands.
No, compassion moved him to do something to change the situation…
People are of infinite worth
because Jesus Christ died for them,
and they must be treated
not just with respect but with reverence.
To treat fellow human beings as less than this
is to spit in the face of God.”
He continued:
“A compassionate church will discern the features of its Lord and Master
in the drug addict, the homeless person, the AIDS patient, the (single) parent,
the hungry, the widow and the orphan, the unemployed, the political prisoner,
the homeless, the oppressed.
The compassionate church will,
like its Lord and Master,
tie a towel around its waist to wash the disciples’
feet, because in serving these it is serving him.”
Our loving compassionate God, as illustrated
in the stories of the two birdcages,
comes to free us
from that which binds us to whatever circumstance
that prevents from being all God has created us to be
whether self imposed,
imposed by others,
or by the circumstances of the life into which we have been born
including the mortality shared by all.
Our loving compassionate God,
as illustrated in the stories of the two birdcages,
comes to call us into becoming God’s compassionate people
in God’s compassionate church.
When we leave the Cathedral this day these stories
will become more deeply writ into our hearts
if each day we’ll make just a little more effort to being God’s compassionate people
toward those closest around us,
to the strangers we meet,
and even to the self that each of us are.
As we seek to love and to free as God does,
we’ll feel the embrace of God’s eternal arms holding us ever closer.
In the words of that second extraordinary person, St. Teresa of Avila,
“Christ has no body now earth but yours,
no hands but yours,
no feet but yours.
Yours are the feet with which he is to go about doing good.
And yours are the hands with which he is to bless us now.”
Your hands and your feet belong to Christ – use them in his name.
Amen.
April 30, 2006
I’d like to tell you a story about two birdcages.
The stories say lots concerning the meaning of Easter.
I’m going over there to pick up the first cage.
Do you see it?
It’s a cage like “Tweety Bird” took refuge in
from that mean old cat “Sylvester”
in those wondrous colored cartoons of our youth.
Here I’m picking it up.
Take a look with me.
Those adults present who can’t see the cage
please hold your cynicism in abeyance
and listen to me
while I examine this most special cage.
Listen and I’ll tell you what I see.
It appears to be a brand spanking new birdcage.
The bars are spaced so that even the tiniest of birds
could never escape from this cage.
Now there is something very peculiar about what I see.
What use is a birdcage without a door?
Did you notice there wasn’t a door?
I couldn’t put a bird in there even if I wanted to!
As I’ve been examining this cage
there is something even more peculiar.
Look at the bottom of the cage.
Do you see it?
There’s an eggshell
of a recently hatched bird.
Where’s the bird?
There’s no door to the cage!
There’s no way through the very narrowly spaced bars!
Yet, at the bottom of the cage are the remnants of an eggshell.
Here, I’ll hold the cage so you can see where that bird might have hidden.
Do you see the bird?
Neither do I! The bird isn’t in the cage.
I would like to meet a bird that can hatch from the confinement of its shell
into an escape-proof cage
and then just simply disappear from sight.
Where did it go?
Again I must say,
I would like to meet a bird like that.
That bird sounds remarkably like
that escape Jesus made
and we celebrated on Easter Eve.
The birdcage I described
was like one painted by Rene Magritte
a Belgian surrealist painter.
In this and in other works of his
this postal worker who painted in the dining room of his house
painted images that guide our minds to see realities
that transcend
the obviousness of the concreteness of the world, which surrounds.
In his painting of the empty birdcage
we are lead to see both the impossibility
and the reality of the empty tomb.
Let’s see, I think I’ll place this cage over here.
Right there is a good spot.
There’s another cage – do you see it?
It’s not nearly as nice as the first.
It’s all rusty and bent in places.
The bars aren’t evenly spaced and as close together as in first.
Why look, it’s even got a door.
Bear with me for a moment and I’ll walk over and pick it up.
I’ve got it! I’ll hold it so you can see it.
This ugly old cage looks like it’s ready for nothing but the trash bin.
Looking at it closely I’m reminded of a story.
On an Easter Sunday morning
a pastor at a church in New England
was walking to begin Sunday services.
On the way he saw a young boy coming toward him
with a cage exactly like this one.
As he drew closer
he noticed several birds thrashing in fear
as they sought escape from the confines of the cage.
Taking time out from his walk
he stopped the boy
and asked him what he intended to do with the birds.
“Mister,” the boy replied
“I am going to play with them.
I am going to make them angry and fight with one another.
I am going to pull out their feathers and hurt them.”
“That’s terrible,” the pastor thought.
The he said to the boy “Then what are you going to do?”
Answering his own question
he said to the boy
“You’re going to let them go aren’t you?”
“No!” he said enthusiastically
“there’re lots of hungry cats in the neighborhood
soooo I’m going to feed them to the cats!”
At this last statement the pastor slid his hand into the vest pocket of his jacket
and said “Son, what do you think those three birds are worth?”
“Well mister” he replied, naming a gargantuan sum for one so young.
“They’re worth ten dollars!”
The pastor pulled out his wallet took out a ten dollar bill
and quietly the exchange took place.
Each seemed satisfied with the deal they’d made
though as the boy walked away he waved his ten dollar bill
gloating at the stupidity of the adult he’d pulled a shame upon.
Looking back the boy shouted, as if to rub it in,
“Mister they’re only common field birds with no color at all.
Why they can’t even sing a pretty song!”
The pastor with his prize
walked quietly to a grassy place
by the side of a large tree
that would be hospitable to the three tiny birds.
Then he kneeled, opened the door of the rusty old birdcage,
and gently urged them fly away into the freedom…the life
he’d purchased for them.
On that Easter Sunday he preached one of his best sermons.
The two cages both speak to me of the meaning of Easter.
I am going to place them side-by-side
and I will try not to forget their story.
The challenge becomes for me…for us…
how do we make the story conveyed by the two cages real in our lives?
For me their reality comes
in seeking in my life
to live into the challenge
contained in the words of two extraordinary human beings.
Listen to the words the first extraordinary human being, Archbishop Desmond Tutu,
spoke in addressing the church:
“The compassion of Jesus was not just a passing feeling that made him feel pity
but left him wringing his hands.
No, compassion moved him to do something to change the situation…
People are of infinite worth
because Jesus Christ died for them,
and they must be treated
not just with respect but with reverence.
To treat fellow human beings as less than this
is to spit in the face of God.”
He continued:
“A compassionate church will discern the features of its Lord and Master
in the drug addict, the homeless person, the AIDS patient, the (single) parent,
the hungry, the widow and the orphan, the unemployed, the political prisoner,
the homeless, the oppressed.
The compassionate church will,
like its Lord and Master,
tie a towel around its waist to wash the disciples’
feet, because in serving these it is serving him.”
Our loving compassionate God, as illustrated
in the stories of the two birdcages,
comes to free us
from that which binds us to whatever circumstance
that prevents from being all God has created us to be
whether self imposed,
imposed by others,
or by the circumstances of the life into which we have been born
including the mortality shared by all.
Our loving compassionate God,
as illustrated in the stories of the two birdcages,
comes to call us into becoming God’s compassionate people
in God’s compassionate church.
When we leave the Cathedral this day these stories
will become more deeply writ into our hearts
if each day we’ll make just a little more effort to being God’s compassionate people
toward those closest around us,
to the strangers we meet,
and even to the self that each of us are.
As we seek to love and to free as God does,
we’ll feel the embrace of God’s eternal arms holding us ever closer.
In the words of that second extraordinary person, St. Teresa of Avila,
“Christ has no body now earth but yours,
no hands but yours,
no feet but yours.
Yours are the feet with which he is to go about doing good.
And yours are the hands with which he is to bless us now.”
Your hands and your feet belong to Christ – use them in his name.
Amen.
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