Monday, October 30, 2006

Requiem Eucharist

The Rev. Laura Howell
October 29, 2006
The Cathedral Church of the Nativity
Collect for the Dead + Wisdom 3:1-9 + Revelation 7:9-17 + John 11:21-27

In the name of the Father (+) and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

From the most ancient times, the church has honored those who have died in faith. As a matter of fact, early Eucharists were celebrated on the flat, table-like tops of the tombs of the martyrs. Around 200 AD—1900 years ago!—Tertullian wrote that Christians offered prayers for the dead as part of the Eucharist. And St. Augustine in the 4th century wrote: “The souls of the pious dead are not separated from the Church, which even now is the Kingdom of Christ. Otherwise there would be no remembrance of them at the altar of God in the communication of the Body of Christ.”

At Trinity Bethlehem, we offer a Requiem quarterly. Sometimes folks who have come to us from other denominations ask why we pray for those who have died. They say, “If people are dead, our prayers for them don’t mean anything, do they?” I have several answers. First of all, praying for those who have gone before, helps ME—it’s kind of selfish, actually. It helps me remember them, it helps me to maintain spiritual contact with them, and there is comfort in that. When I am troubled, prayer helps anchor me. How much more do I need the balm of prayer when I am grieving?

But more importantly, I wonder what those questioners mean by the word “dead”? Do they mean that the physical body is now gone from my sight? That the person’s being is extinguished? That they are no longer in existence? St. Paul writes to the Romans with some incredulity in chapter 6 (3-4): “Are you unaware that we who were baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were indeed buried with him through baptism into death, so that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might live in newness of life.” You can hardly put it any clearer than Jesus does: “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.” For us, as Christians, it’s a perfectly acceptable human thing to grieve greatly when someone we love dies—even Jesus grieved for his friend Lazarus. But we also recognize that grief is not the end of the story, because the person who is gone has been made anew in Christ.

Let me remind you about the collect we have chosen for this service: “Eternal Lord God, you hold all souls in life: Give to your whole Church in paradise and on earth your light and your peace; and grant that we, following the good examples of those who have served you here and are now at rest, may at the last enter with them into your unending joy.”

This collect harkens back to Augustine’s reflection. The church does not function just on this earth. Nor is it just in heaven. The church exists in that mysterious perpetual NOW which is God’s time. It straddles both time and eternity. It exists in that LIFE in which God holds all souls. I would hazard a guess that most of you are part of the church. Who else would come out to pray both in words and music at 5:00 on a blustery Sunday evening? As we enter into this Eucharist, without even realizing it, we step into eternity. It’s nice to have our bodies along, and to sit in the pew with our friends and family, who have also brought their bodies along. What is most important, however, is that your eternal souls are here inside those bodies. And at this Eucharist, all the rest of the church is present, too, with their eternal souls. It is in worship, in prayer, that we all gather, even if we can’t all see and hear each other with our physical eyes and ears.

There was a lady who was at Morning Prayer every morning for years and years. She had a particularly wonderful intonation when she said Canticle 1: “O all ye works of the Lord, bless ye the Lord. Praise him and magnify him forever.” Every Monday morning I hear her saying with me, “Praise him and magnify him forever.” I pray for her and give thanks for her whenever I hear her voice. She has been living in God’s larger world for several years now. My mother is ill in another part of the country. I pray for her health and happiness several times a day. I can still travel to see her a couple of times a year, but she is as close in moments of prayer as my Canticle 1 lady. If we are all eternally present in God’s church now, wouldn’t it be a little silly of me to think that I could pray for one of them, but not for the other?

In part, prayer is a conversation between our spirits and God. In this requiem, we pray for those who have died. In other words, we talk with God about them. We express to God our hopes that they are well and filled with joy at being in God’s presence. We remember their lives and give thanks for what they have meant to us. We receive the comfort of knowing that the One who created the universe, and who cared so much that he would die for us, is looking after them. And maybe, if we are very blessed, we receive back a whisper of the peace that they are enjoying, and a reflection of the pure love in which they are now immersed.

I suppose that this could sound like sentimentalism. Or even some kind of emotional wish-fulfillment. But for 2,000 years, the church has recommended that we turn our minds to eternity and pray for and with those who have died. As we prepare to enter the 8-day celebration of All Saints and All Souls, I invite you to remember those who have gone ahead of us, who live in Christ, and with whom we, too, will live in eternal joy. AMEN.

Sunday, October 29, 2006

Pentecost 21 ~ Making it through

The Ven. Richard I Cluett
October 29, 2006
Job 42:1-6, 10-17 + Mark 10:46-52

How are you going to get through this life? How are you going to make it? What will it take for you to make it through this life with your self intact; with your integrity, with self-respect, with honor?

What will be your legacy for those you love, those closest to you, your associates, your neighbors, your small part of the world? What will be known of your beliefs, your values, your worldview, and your faith?

What will your children and grandchildren and nieces and nephews know about you? About what’s important to you? How you view the world? What will they know and how will they know it?

Bishop Mark Dyer used to say that a person’s legacy could be seen in their calendar and in their checkbook. How we spend our time and our money are the best clues to what we value.

Are you a glass half-full person or a glass half-empty person? Are you a person who lives out of poverty – a sense that there never is enough; never enough time, enough money, enough resources, enough love, enough good will? Or are you a person who lives out of a sense of abundance; there’s enough to go around, there’s enough to do the job, there’s enough?

These are discipleship questions and these are stewardship questions. They are some of the questions raised by Job, both the man and the book.

This morning we hear Job acknowledge before God that God is God, and before God he is, and we are, but dust and ashes. Without God’s enlivening, creative, empowering spirit, the world is but dust and ashes.

But because God is God, Job is willing to risk it all again as he enters life anew, as he rebuilds his life again, knowing that it all could be lost again.

God's reasons for giving things to Job are as unexplained as the reasons they were taken away. God does not explain suffering, but God does not explain beatitude either. They are twin mysteries. The sources of each are hidden from our view, beyond our understanding.

But Job is willing to try again, risk again, and live again. Job has learned that chaos is inherently part of life. And that God provides the resources to make our way through the chaos and the ambiguity of life.

The chaos of the world is not the end or the answer. The answer is found in how we make our way through this life. Are we willing to risk with Job that God’s creation is inherently good? Are we willing to trust, to bet our lives that the God shown in Jesus Christ is the ONE who creates, who saves, who sustains, who will empower our ability to make our way through this life knowing grace and mercy?

What changed for Job was his perspective. The way we see, know, understand, and believe will determine whether the chaos of the world will reign in our lives, whether the circumstances of life will beat us down, whether we sink or whether we soar as if on the wings of eagles.

Many of you know that I was away last week to lead a conference for clergy; a wellness conference called CREDO. We have all learned that CREDO is the Latin word for “I believe”. But CREDO does not mean, “I believe” in the sense of intellectual assent to this or that proposition. (I agree with Dr. Einstein that e=mc2.) It means, “I give my heart to this.” It is an expression of my heart’s commitment and heart’s orientation. In the creed saying, I believe/I give my heart to the Father…

To what do you give your heart? To whom do you give your heart? That is a discipleship question. The stewardship question is what you do after you say, I believe, I give my heart to…?

Has Jesus opened your eyes to see the hand of God at work in the world around us? Or are you afflicted with the metaphorical blindness of Bartimaeus? The healing of Bartimaeus by Jesus gave Bartimaeus a new perspective, a new life.

Jesus was not only the sign of God’s kingdom; he was also the agent of God’s kingdom. Where he went he brought a new perspective; he brought the chance of new life for those who would believe. He brings to each of us a new way of seeing the world, a new perspective on how life is to be lived, and a new responsibility to join him in being agents of the Kingdom of God.

Where we go we are to bring life and healing, we are to help people know that God’s reign has begun and it includes them. We do that individually, but probably we do it most powerfully when we join together in the mission and ministry of this cathedral church. When we together witness to the world, to our neighborhood, and to one another that God’s hand is powerfully and importantly at work reweaving the torn fabric of creation, restoring to health and wholeness those whom the world has beaten down, those who have succumbed to the chaos in their lives, those who have been oppressed by evil powers of this world; bringing new life to lives that had appeared as though dead.

That’s what we are about here. That’s why God has placed us here. The Cathedral Church of the Nativity. And if we fail or fall short because of fear or timidity or lack of resources, we will have succumbed to chaos ourselves.

So what we do here and how we live here have both immediate and eternal consequences. The immediate consequences have to do with the well-being of God’s people; the eternal consequences have to do with how we will stand before the judgment seat of God. What will be the evidence, the testimony of our life? What will be our legacy as a community, as a person?

Next week when each of us is asked to make a financial commitment to Nativity, this is what we are being asked. Will we be faithful in our mission and our ministry; will we have the resources necessary to do the work we have been given to do?

I want you to think about these things as you make your pledge next Sunday. I don’t want you to think about paying your dues to pay the church bills. I want you to think about your soul’s health and your soul-legacy. I want you to think about this mission God has given this cathedral church.

Will you decide to stretch yourself in response to God’s abundant presence and power in your life? Will you decide to stretch yourself to bring new life and the light of Christ to those in need of God’s abundant presence and power in their lives? I pray each of us will.

According to Job and to Jesus, it is never too late to gain a new perspective. It is never to late start – again.

Sunday, October 15, 2006

Pentecost 19: Making Room for Jesus

The Rev. Canon Anne E. Kitch
Cathedral Church of the Nativity, Bethlehem PA

Mark 10:17-31

If you were here Friday night at the glorious Evensong for our diocesan convention, you would have worshiped with a church full of people, heard our glorious choir and seen a little red wagon here up front. The wagon was there to collect clothing for children at risk that people brought from all over our diocese. People chose to give out of their abundance to the powerless among us, to children for whom even basic things like enough socks and underwear are scarce. But before that wagon could receive those gifts, it had to be emptied. It had been sitting on my back porch full of newspapers waiting to go to the recycling center.

When the rich young man encounters Jesus, he too has to empty in order to receive. Perhaps he had been searching for Jesus, looking for an opportunity to connect with the compelling rabbi. Maybe he had heard of Jesus the teacher, healer, and miracle-worker. At any rate, he runs up, kneels before Jesus and asks, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” Really his question is, “What can I do to be saved?” Jesus tells him to follow the commandments. The man replies that he has followed them since he was a child. I love what the scripture says next: Jesus looking at him, loved him. Jesus loved him. Jesus gave him that generous love that wants nothing in return--the love which is agape.

Loving him, lovingly Jesus said, “You lack one thing…go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me. Go, sell, give...then come, follow. But the man was shocked and grieved. He went away sad, because he had many possessions. He needed to let go of them, in order to receive treasure in heaven.

One pastor in writing about this story calls it a healing story.* After all, healing is what most people ask Jesus for. They run after him, fling themselves at his feet and beg healing. Healing for themselves. Healing for those they love. Why did this man need healing? Because he was possessed--possessed by his possessions. Confronted by what he needs to do in order to be healed, the rich young man goes away sad. The story doesn’t say he was angry, but sad. I think that’s because he got it. He knew Jesus was right. He understood that God was calling him to let go. And he realized just how hard and painful that would be. I wonder we he did next? I wonder if he was able to let go?

Jesus knows what we each long for and what we each lack. Jesus knows it is hard and painful to let go of the things we think are important. In fact it is easier for a camel to go through the eye of a needle than for someone who is rich to enter the kingdom of God.

Now, if you are reading this sermon, I am sorry to say that you are missing the visual aids that accompany it. This is a case of you-had-to-be-there. If you imagine a couple of cardboard camels and a package of needles and lots of laughter you will get an idea of what happened next.

In fact, it is impossible to get that camel through. “Then who can be saved,” the disciples wonder. Jesus says it is impossible. For you, for mortals, it is impossible. But not for God. For God all things are possible.

What might you need to let go of in order to receive the abundance God has in store for you? Jesus knows what we each lack. Jesus knows what we each long for. Jesus knows it is hard and painful to let go of the things we think are important--in fact, it is impossible. Fortunately, salvation is not up to us. Salvation is God’s work.

I put myself into this story and I wonder. I wonder what the response would be if it was me? This is how it plays out. I see Jesus, and I run up to him, kneel in from of him. And I say, “Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?”
Jesus: You know the teachings
Anne: Yes, and I truly try to follow them. You know I was brought up in the
church and I know I’m not perfect but I really don’t think I am a bad
person.
Jesus (looking at me and loving me): You lack one thing…

I wonder what one thing I lack? I wonder if you wonder that about yourself.




*Stacey Elizabeth Simpson, pastor of Fellowship Baptist Church in Edison Georgia, from an article in The Christian Century, September 27- October 4, 2000 p. 951

Copyright © Anne E. Kitch 2006

Sunday, October 01, 2006

Pentecost 17: “Do not stop him…”

The Ven. Richard I Cluett
October 1, 2003
Numbers 11:4-6,10-16,24-29 James 5:13-20 Mark 9:38-50

The readings today lay out a whole smorgasbord of possibilities. I can pick any one of Jesus’ sayings and spin those out (in a good kind of spin. I like to think) or I can take some of the injunctions in James, or the experience of Israel in the desert or the problems of leadership exemplified in Moses, or others…

But what intrigues me the most this week is the theme that goes through all the readings – the theme of discipleship. What is a disciple? Who can be a disciple? What does a disciple do? What does being a disciple of (to be specific) Jesus require of us?

For the last couple of weeks we have heard Jesus on the subject of being his follower: “If any would be my disciple, let him deny himself take up his cross and follow me.” And, “Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.”

Today the disciples closest to him want to make Jesus a legal franchise. In order to be his disciple, you must fulfill certain requirements, pay certain dues, have a personal call or endorsement, be deemed by Jesus to be special and then be set aside for the special ministry and relationship of disciple.

Who can be a disciple, who can claim to be a disciple, who is allowed to serve as a disciple, who is authorized to function as a disciple in the name of the master? These are very old, time-honored, well-worn questions. They are from time immemorial. Whenever more than one has been gathered together these questions of authority and appropriateness of discipleship arise.

In the reading from the Book of Numbers, the question is raised. It is easy to concentrate on and make fun of the weeping of the people over having nothing to eat but manna. Actually, I think my personal translation of the Hebrew is not “weeping”, but “whining”. Or it is easy to identify with the plight of leadership shown by Moses, rather than the abundance that God provides for his people – all of them. The people are starving, God provides Manna. The task of leadership is too great, God provides 70 elders to be specially designated and authorized as helpers.

And not only that, God’s abundance is such that even if others, who have not been officially designated and set aside, feel called to do something on behalf of God’s providence, to care for God’s people, God empowers them, en-spirits them powerfully to do so.

Eldad and Medad are but two guys who feel called to do a good work. Joshua says, “Stop them. They are not authorized and empowered to do work on your behalf, God’s behalf, or on behalf of the welfare of the people.” Who do they think they are?! And Moses says in effect, “They’re doing that? Wonderful! It would be wonderful if everyone who believes felt moved to do such, empowered to do such, and then went ahead and did it. Wonderful!”

And then we jump ahead about 1400 years to the time of Jesus and what do we encounter? Exactly the same issue. Who is a disciple, who is authorized? This time it’s not about prophesying, it’s about healing, but the core issue is the same: who is authorized and empowered to do work on Jesus’ behalf, God’s behalf, or on behalf of the welfare of God’s people?

And Jesus says, “"Do not stop him; for no one who does a deed of power in my name will be able soon afterward to speak evil of me. Whoever is not against us is for us. For truly I tell you, whoever gives you a cup of water to drink because you bear the name of Christ will by no means lose the reward.”

It is the nature of God, it is in the providence of God, it is the abundance of God that there be no dearth of work being done on behalf of the welfare of the God’s people, no limit on the workers, no arbitrary set of requirements or categories defining who is allowed to do a good work, who is appropriate, who is authorized and empowered to do work on Jesus’ behalf, God’s behalf, or on behalf of the welfare of the people. There is no limit, no requirement.

You cannot be too young, too old, too small, too large, too educated, too uneducated. You cannot be too poor or too rich. You cannot speak the wrong language. You cannot be the wrong gender, the wrong color, the wrong ethnicity, or the wrong age. You cannot even be too sinful -- or too pure. You cannot even be in the wrong religion to do a good work on Jesus’ behalf, God’s behalf, or on behalf of the welfare of the people.

All God asks, all God seeks is someone, anyone who will care for, work for the well being of God’s people. All God asks, all God seeks is the likes of you and me.

So the question becomes, "Are we who have been called and follow and do name ourselves as a disciple of Jesus: Jesus the Son of God, Jesus the Risen Christ, Jesus the friend of the poor, the outcast, the prisoner and the sinner, Jesus the reconciler… Are we who are his disciples doing any good work on Jesus’ behalf, God’s behalf, or on behalf of the welfare of God’s people? Personally."

Is this community of disciples, the Cathedral Church of the Nativity, feeding the hungry and housing the homeless? By our work are we proclaiming to the community around us that God’s abundance is for them? Can we look at our neighbors and see how well they are being fed, how comfortably they are being housed, how warmly they are being dressed, how well they are being educated, how often they are being welcomed as a direct result of our good work as disciples of Jesus?

One commentator writes that Jesus gives us a description, an example, of a discipleship that is “inclusive, attentive to the vulnerable, and diligent in recognizing those things that will lead one to stumble or offend…”

I recently heard about a conversation between a Christian and his Jewish friend who was speaking of his experience of Rosh Hashanah. The friend pointed to this reflection:

*Rosh Hashanah: ruminations
The day has come
To take an accounting of my life.

Have I dreamed of late
Of the person I want to be,
Of the changes I would make
In my daily habits,
In the way I am with others,
In the friendship I show companions,
Woman friends, man friends, my partner,
In the regard I show my father and mother,
Who brought me out of childhood?

I have remained enchained too often to less than what I am.
But the day has come to take an accounting of my life.

Have I renewed of late
My vision of the world I want to live in,
Of the changes I would make
In the way my friends are with each other
The way we find out whom we love
The way we grow to educate people
The way in which the many kinds of needy people
Grope their way to justice?

Worthy ruminations for our own discipleship, I think. Am I, are we, signs of God’s abundant care of God’s people?

Blessed is someone, anyone, who comes in the name of the Lord.

*from The Wings of Awe, A Machzor for Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, B’nai B’rith Hillel Foundations, Washington, D.C., with thanks to Mark Harris at Preludium