The Rev. Canon Anne E. Kitch
Deuteronomy 25:1-11 + Romans 10:8-13 + Luke 4:1-13
Welcome to Lent! If the purple vestments and veiled crosses aren’t enough to mark the change of the liturgical season, to further set the mood today we pray the Great Litany. Originally the word “litany” just meant prayer or supplication. But it has come to mean a specific kind of prayer: a series of short petitions followed by set responses. The basis of the Great Litany can be traced back to the time of Henry VIII. It was one of the first prayers published in English (rather than Latin) and was intended to be said in procession. In our Book of Common Prayer it is called the “Great” Litany to distinguish it from other litanies in the BCP (of course, it is also really long).
It begins with an invocation of the Trinity. Next follow biddings addressed to our Lord Christ. We pray first for deliverance from all kinds of evil—spiritual evil, physical evil, and social evil. Next come a series of petitions in which, like our prayers of the people, we ask God to hear our prayers for all sorts of people and conditions. Perhaps one or more of these biddings or petitions captures your attention today. But I want to focus on one of the biddings for deliverance—or rather one that reminds us by what we are delivered: “By the mystery of they holy Incarnation; by the holy Nativity and submission to the Law; by thy Baptism, Fasting and Temptation, Good Lord deliver us.”
This petition reminds us that Christ’s saving power was manifest not only on the cross, but in his earthly life as well. Just what specifically did Christ’s baptism, fasting, and temptation do for us? When Jesus came to be baptized by John in the Jordan river, he was just one of a large crowd of people. Like everyone else that came, he too was drawn to John’s call to this baptism of repentance. It is a moment of revelation when he shows his solidarity with the people and as the Spirit descends on him his identity as the Son of God is proclaimed. How will he reconcile the two? We have difficulty understanding and explaining just how Jesus is both human and divine. How do you think he felt? Episcopal priest and spiritual writer Martin Smith suggests it was an issue for Jesus as well, “Everything depends on whether Jesus can reconcile his sense of uniqueness as Son of God with his vocation as Son of Man to compassion and solidarity with needy, failed humanity.”
Immediately after his baptism, that same sprit takes him into the wilderness. It is a testing ground, a place of learning. In the wilderness he fasts in response to his baptism. In order to understand and assimilate this revelation of self, Jesus employs spiritual discipline. He engages in a self-emptying spiritual cleansing. Throughout his ministry, Jesus takes the time to pray and worship and attend to his spiritual life. Even Jesus needs the discipline.
Jesus’ fast in the wilderness is a serious one—he eats nothing for forty days. And he is famished! He felt the lack of food. It cost him something to fast. He hungered as we do. In the wake of his revelation as Son of God he did not leave his humanity behind. This becomes the focus of his temptation: can he reconcile the tension of knowledge of self? Can he remain God and human? Can he follow his vocation? The temptations are real. He is not am impervious God, but a human being who gets famished.
Satan appeals first to these needs. Relieve your human hunger—but by using super power. If Jesus does this, then he loses his humanity. He will feed his mortal hunger by supernatural means and thus not be hungry. Jesus refuses. Satan next appeals to the desire for authority. Be an earthly king, under the divine rule of Satan! But if Jesus chooses this, loses his divine authority by limiting his rule to an earthly kingdom. Again he holds steady, remains in the tension of human and divine. For the final temptation, Satan takes him to the temple, to the place that will be the site of his betrayal and final death-march. The third temptation is not to die. Jump now and the angels will catch you. You don’t need to die. More to the point, you don’t need to die on the cross. You can skip all that. But if Jesus skips death, then death is not conquered. Without the cross….
See each temptation tries to draw Jesus away from who he is by denying his humanity, or giving up his divinity, or forsaking his vocation and most difficult task. We too are tempted not to be who we are. We are tempted to deny our humanity and believe we are not frail, that we can be perfect or control all things. We are tempted to deny that we are made in the image of God, and to believe that we are worthless. We are tempted to assume we have nothing more to learn about who we are, or what we have to offer. We are tempted to remain disconnected from self and assume that since we are functioning, all must be well. We are tempted to skip the wilderness journey and ignore Lent.
When the devil leaves Jesus in the desert, we are told that he departed until an opportune time. Jesus was not done with Satan. Jesus was not done being tempted to be less than who he was. Jesus was not done discovering all he could be, was not done living into his vocation. Neither are we. By thy Baptism, Fasting and Temptation, Good Lord deliver us. From temptation to be less than we are, Good Lord deliver us. From our desire to skip the wilderness journey, Good Lord deliver us.
Amen.
Copyright © 2007 by Anne E. Kitch
(Martin Smith, A Season for the Spirit p. 11)
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Wednesday, February 21, 2007
Ash Wednesday: God's Dust
The Rev. Canon Anne E. Kitch
Isaiah 58:1-12; Psalm 103; 2 Corinthians 5:20-6:10; Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21
Clearly, we do not remember that we are dust. I would suspect that few if any of us begin our day saying, “Thank you God for this day…and that I am dust.” We may not remember that we are dust, but apparently God does. As the psalmist prays, “For he himself knows whereof we are made; he remembers that we are but dust (Psalm 103:14). Fortunately we do have this yearly liturgy to remind us. This is a good thing because I think in our culture we can use all the help we can get to remember our mortality. We fend off death with extreme medical procedures. We keep death out of sight and as much out of mind as we can. We don’t want to talk about death and dying, as if they are distasteful subjects. We whisper words like “cancer” as if having a disease means we are going to die and we wouldn’t want to admit that. But as Hospice Chaplain Anne Huey states, “Actually, being alive means we're going to die.”
And although “ashes to ashes, dust to dust” is a well known mantra used in many funeral services, our culture is bent on preventing just that. As local author Mark Harris describes in his new book Grave Matters, many modern burial practices aim to prevent our bodies from returning to the earth. High-end modern coffins are built out of bronze and copper and can be sealed to prevent the elements from reaching the body. Most cemeteries pour three thousand pounds of concrete into each grave to create a vault so that coffins won’t collapse as quickly and even when they eventually do, the ground above them will stay nice and smooth. Which does make mowing easier.
Just what are we protecting? We don’t die well in our culture. And I believe when we don’t die well, we don’t live well either. I am not talking simply about living each day to the fullest, although that is not a bad practice. Certainly people who have had near death experiences often re-examine their priorities and commit to living a better life by spending time on what is important. Certainly, to remember that we are dust is to remember our mortality. But to remember our mortality is not just about acknowledging that we will die; it is also about recalling that we are mortal, that God created us and we are God’s creatures. I think as Christians there is more to living well than just living each day to the fullest, and that is striving for the things eternal.
What are the things that endure? What lasts beyond death? And as a people whose faith is most fully known at the foot of the cross, in the face of death itself, perhaps the better question is, what conquers death? St. Paul reminds us of the greater things when he writes, “Faith, hope and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.” It is after all love that hangs on the cross and reaches to the tomb and beyond. I cannot escape the command that Jesus holds up for us, to love my neighbor as myself. To remember that we are dust and that we will return to dust compels us toward works of mercy in the world that will add to the goodness of the world. It is not we who will continue. So do we want a legacy of monuments and money—or of adding to the balance of love? Loving my neighbor as myself can in fact make the world is a better place.
The Matthew passage is clear about certain kinds of piety that are dangerous to our souls—the kind that is about drawing attention to ourselves. But notice that Jesus still commands us to give alms, pray and fast. These spiritual practices are important. They help to move us beyond ourselves and connect us to the world. It is these spiritual practices that make a difference in the world, that produce the kind of treasure that is worth having. As Isaiah says, “Is this not the fast I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice…to let the oppressed go free? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house?” If we live lives that are always about giving away to others, then we are adding to the world.
According to Mark Harris, it was in the mid 19th century in our country that coffins began to be called caskets—a word that at that time referred specifically to jewelry boxes. This renaming heightened the sense of the body as precious. But our body is not the treasure. Our treasure is Christ. God remembers that we are dust, and when we remember it as well, we can focus on the practices which conquer death, the practices of love. We can be as ubiquitous as the dust in the air, but dust motes of love adding to the balance of what is redemptive in the world.
Episcopal priest and author Suzanne Guthrie writes, “Because I am earthbound and made of dust, I am deathbound and will return to dust, my time will end in dying.” She goes on to pray, “I may be dust, O Blessed, Holy One. But I know I am your dust.” Remember that you are dust. Remember whose dust you are. Amen.
Copyright 2007 © by Anne E. Kitch
(Anne Huey quoted from an article in the Morning Call, Feb 9, 2007. Mark Harris, Grave Matters: A Journey Through the Modern Funeral Industry to a Natural Way of Burial. Suzanne Guthrie, Praying the Hours pp. 30, 36)
Isaiah 58:1-12; Psalm 103; 2 Corinthians 5:20-6:10; Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21
Clearly, we do not remember that we are dust. I would suspect that few if any of us begin our day saying, “Thank you God for this day…and that I am dust.” We may not remember that we are dust, but apparently God does. As the psalmist prays, “For he himself knows whereof we are made; he remembers that we are but dust (Psalm 103:14). Fortunately we do have this yearly liturgy to remind us. This is a good thing because I think in our culture we can use all the help we can get to remember our mortality. We fend off death with extreme medical procedures. We keep death out of sight and as much out of mind as we can. We don’t want to talk about death and dying, as if they are distasteful subjects. We whisper words like “cancer” as if having a disease means we are going to die and we wouldn’t want to admit that. But as Hospice Chaplain Anne Huey states, “Actually, being alive means we're going to die.”
And although “ashes to ashes, dust to dust” is a well known mantra used in many funeral services, our culture is bent on preventing just that. As local author Mark Harris describes in his new book Grave Matters, many modern burial practices aim to prevent our bodies from returning to the earth. High-end modern coffins are built out of bronze and copper and can be sealed to prevent the elements from reaching the body. Most cemeteries pour three thousand pounds of concrete into each grave to create a vault so that coffins won’t collapse as quickly and even when they eventually do, the ground above them will stay nice and smooth. Which does make mowing easier.
Just what are we protecting? We don’t die well in our culture. And I believe when we don’t die well, we don’t live well either. I am not talking simply about living each day to the fullest, although that is not a bad practice. Certainly people who have had near death experiences often re-examine their priorities and commit to living a better life by spending time on what is important. Certainly, to remember that we are dust is to remember our mortality. But to remember our mortality is not just about acknowledging that we will die; it is also about recalling that we are mortal, that God created us and we are God’s creatures. I think as Christians there is more to living well than just living each day to the fullest, and that is striving for the things eternal.
What are the things that endure? What lasts beyond death? And as a people whose faith is most fully known at the foot of the cross, in the face of death itself, perhaps the better question is, what conquers death? St. Paul reminds us of the greater things when he writes, “Faith, hope and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.” It is after all love that hangs on the cross and reaches to the tomb and beyond. I cannot escape the command that Jesus holds up for us, to love my neighbor as myself. To remember that we are dust and that we will return to dust compels us toward works of mercy in the world that will add to the goodness of the world. It is not we who will continue. So do we want a legacy of monuments and money—or of adding to the balance of love? Loving my neighbor as myself can in fact make the world is a better place.
The Matthew passage is clear about certain kinds of piety that are dangerous to our souls—the kind that is about drawing attention to ourselves. But notice that Jesus still commands us to give alms, pray and fast. These spiritual practices are important. They help to move us beyond ourselves and connect us to the world. It is these spiritual practices that make a difference in the world, that produce the kind of treasure that is worth having. As Isaiah says, “Is this not the fast I choose: to loose the bonds of injustice…to let the oppressed go free? Is it not to share your bread with the hungry, and bring the homeless poor into your house?” If we live lives that are always about giving away to others, then we are adding to the world.
According to Mark Harris, it was in the mid 19th century in our country that coffins began to be called caskets—a word that at that time referred specifically to jewelry boxes. This renaming heightened the sense of the body as precious. But our body is not the treasure. Our treasure is Christ. God remembers that we are dust, and when we remember it as well, we can focus on the practices which conquer death, the practices of love. We can be as ubiquitous as the dust in the air, but dust motes of love adding to the balance of what is redemptive in the world.
Episcopal priest and author Suzanne Guthrie writes, “Because I am earthbound and made of dust, I am deathbound and will return to dust, my time will end in dying.” She goes on to pray, “I may be dust, O Blessed, Holy One. But I know I am your dust.” Remember that you are dust. Remember whose dust you are. Amen.
Copyright 2007 © by Anne E. Kitch
(Anne Huey quoted from an article in the Morning Call, Feb 9, 2007. Mark Harris, Grave Matters: A Journey Through the Modern Funeral Industry to a Natural Way of Burial. Suzanne Guthrie, Praying the Hours pp. 30, 36)
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Last Sunday after Epiphany: Being There
The Ven Richard I Cluett
February 18, 2007
Exodus 34:29-35 + 2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2 + Luke 9:28-36
I would like you to take a minute and range over the events and moments of your life, and focus on an event or a moment, when everything came together, when it was perfection, when it was bliss, when you felt blessed.
Perhaps it was when the whole family, all the available generations, were gathered in the same room or around the same dinner table, and it suddenly comes to you how absolutely perfect the moment is; how incredibly wonderful it is; how miraculously blessed you are to experience it.
It is a mercy. It is ecstasy. It is perfection. It is the essence. It is bliss. It is a blessing. It is an epiphany.
Or perhaps it is a different kind of moment when you have discovered in an instant who the Thou is who completes your I.
Or perhaps it is a different kind of moment when after years of sweat and labor in working on your prayer life, you suddenly feel in the core of your being that God is present with you, around you, and within you. A blessing.
Or perhaps it is a different kind of moment when the project you have been creating, the thing you have been making, the work you have been building is finally and wonderfully and complete,
Or perhaps it is something totally differently, uniquely, utterly other; having nothing to do with my suggestions, but something yours, your blessing, your epiphany… to savour, forever.
If you have experienced this somehow, someway… then you can begin to know something of what Peter and James and John experienced. Theirs was uniquely theirs, but we have ours. And if we don’t, “Why not?” is a good question. The answer may just be a “Not yet”. Or it may be that there is a veil.
To be on the mountain top – of whatever mountain – is to receive a gift that lives forever in memory and in the future persons we live to become. It will sustain even when down in the deepest valleys, even when mired in the deepest mud, even when enmeshed in the most complicated complexities of life. It is a mercy, a gift, pure gift, a blessing and it lives forever in us. We never forget.
For Peter, James and John it was to see Jesus as he truly is. It was to be present at an Epiphany much the same as when Jesus saw himself as he really is for the very first time. It was at his baptism when the same voice uttered the words, “You are my Son, the beloved.” Today we hear, “This is my Son, my Chosen”.
You have heard the phrase, “See God and die.” The glory of God was reflected in the face of Moses, and except when he spoke the word of God he covered his face. He stood and lived and moved in the midst of the people, his face radiant, radiating the presence of God in the midst of the people, and they could not see it.
On the mountain, Peter, James and John, these three, and we, see God in the face of Jesus and live. The face of Jesus is for us the face of God. The only and true face of God.
The Apostle Paul says that in Jesus we “with unveiled faces, see the glory of the Lord… and are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another”
To see it, to know that, is the gift of life, of new life, of true life. It is the insight that makes all the connections. It is the Great Aha. It is the meaning of life. It brings all things together. It is foreknowledge of the heavenly kingdom. It is God’s mercy for all creation to know this truth. It is a blessing.
Who would not want to share that? Who would not want those we love most to have that? To what lengths would you go to make that available to your loved ones, even to those you do not know, because of the profound influence and affect it can make on the life of each person and on the life of all, the very life of the world?
Many of you know that one of my joys is leading a wellness conference for clergy called CREDO. At that conference we lavish, and I mean that literally, we lavish care on these clergy who give their lives for others and for the church.
In that conference I use a short film, which I also use with vestries sometimes, that is produced by a National Geographic photographer who talks about his trade, and at that same time shows his photos of the incredible beauty of this world.
There are a number of learnings in the film, but I tend to keep coming back to two:
• There is more than one right answer
• To find one, to find the right answer, you have to put yourself in the place of greatest opportunity
To experience, to get a hint, a whiff, of what the scripture offers today, we have to make ourselves available to it. We have to put ourselves, and those we love, and those whom we may not love or may not know, but for whom we bear some responsibility… put us in the places of greatest opportunity.
No booths or tents or monuments need to be erected when these moments happen, but when the veil is lifted we need to be there.
It is what the parents of these children being baptized today are doing. Bringing their dearest, their children into relationship with God; beginning what they hope will be a growing and life-long relationship that will be a mercy to their children; that will be a blessing to their children; that will provide them with a pathway to the right answers in this life; that will be a light in the dark valleys of this life; and that will be an occasional occasion for their children to know a moment, every now and then, of bliss, an epiphany.
It is their, and our, gift from God. It is the gift each of us has to give to another.
February 18, 2007
Exodus 34:29-35 + 2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2 + Luke 9:28-36
I would like you to take a minute and range over the events and moments of your life, and focus on an event or a moment, when everything came together, when it was perfection, when it was bliss, when you felt blessed.
Perhaps it was when the whole family, all the available generations, were gathered in the same room or around the same dinner table, and it suddenly comes to you how absolutely perfect the moment is; how incredibly wonderful it is; how miraculously blessed you are to experience it.
It is a mercy. It is ecstasy. It is perfection. It is the essence. It is bliss. It is a blessing. It is an epiphany.
Or perhaps it is a different kind of moment when you have discovered in an instant who the Thou is who completes your I.
Or perhaps it is a different kind of moment when after years of sweat and labor in working on your prayer life, you suddenly feel in the core of your being that God is present with you, around you, and within you. A blessing.
Or perhaps it is a different kind of moment when the project you have been creating, the thing you have been making, the work you have been building is finally and wonderfully and complete,
Or perhaps it is something totally differently, uniquely, utterly other; having nothing to do with my suggestions, but something yours, your blessing, your epiphany… to savour, forever.
If you have experienced this somehow, someway… then you can begin to know something of what Peter and James and John experienced. Theirs was uniquely theirs, but we have ours. And if we don’t, “Why not?” is a good question. The answer may just be a “Not yet”. Or it may be that there is a veil.
To be on the mountain top – of whatever mountain – is to receive a gift that lives forever in memory and in the future persons we live to become. It will sustain even when down in the deepest valleys, even when mired in the deepest mud, even when enmeshed in the most complicated complexities of life. It is a mercy, a gift, pure gift, a blessing and it lives forever in us. We never forget.
For Peter, James and John it was to see Jesus as he truly is. It was to be present at an Epiphany much the same as when Jesus saw himself as he really is for the very first time. It was at his baptism when the same voice uttered the words, “You are my Son, the beloved.” Today we hear, “This is my Son, my Chosen”.
You have heard the phrase, “See God and die.” The glory of God was reflected in the face of Moses, and except when he spoke the word of God he covered his face. He stood and lived and moved in the midst of the people, his face radiant, radiating the presence of God in the midst of the people, and they could not see it.
On the mountain, Peter, James and John, these three, and we, see God in the face of Jesus and live. The face of Jesus is for us the face of God. The only and true face of God.
The Apostle Paul says that in Jesus we “with unveiled faces, see the glory of the Lord… and are being transformed into the same image from one degree of glory to another”
To see it, to know that, is the gift of life, of new life, of true life. It is the insight that makes all the connections. It is the Great Aha. It is the meaning of life. It brings all things together. It is foreknowledge of the heavenly kingdom. It is God’s mercy for all creation to know this truth. It is a blessing.
Who would not want to share that? Who would not want those we love most to have that? To what lengths would you go to make that available to your loved ones, even to those you do not know, because of the profound influence and affect it can make on the life of each person and on the life of all, the very life of the world?
Many of you know that one of my joys is leading a wellness conference for clergy called CREDO. At that conference we lavish, and I mean that literally, we lavish care on these clergy who give their lives for others and for the church.
In that conference I use a short film, which I also use with vestries sometimes, that is produced by a National Geographic photographer who talks about his trade, and at that same time shows his photos of the incredible beauty of this world.
There are a number of learnings in the film, but I tend to keep coming back to two:
• There is more than one right answer
• To find one, to find the right answer, you have to put yourself in the place of greatest opportunity
To experience, to get a hint, a whiff, of what the scripture offers today, we have to make ourselves available to it. We have to put ourselves, and those we love, and those whom we may not love or may not know, but for whom we bear some responsibility… put us in the places of greatest opportunity.
No booths or tents or monuments need to be erected when these moments happen, but when the veil is lifted we need to be there.
It is what the parents of these children being baptized today are doing. Bringing their dearest, their children into relationship with God; beginning what they hope will be a growing and life-long relationship that will be a mercy to their children; that will be a blessing to their children; that will provide them with a pathway to the right answers in this life; that will be a light in the dark valleys of this life; and that will be an occasional occasion for their children to know a moment, every now and then, of bliss, an epiphany.
It is their, and our, gift from God. It is the gift each of us has to give to another.
Monday, February 12, 2007
Epiphany 6: Absolutely Absalom
The Ven. Richard I Cluett
February 11, 2007
Jeremiah 17:5-10 + 1Corinthian 15:12-20 + Luke 6:17-26
Well, here we go again with the hard sayings of Jesus. You’d think that the easy sayings of Jesus would pop up every now and then, maybe one Sunday out of the month. Of course, that is a big assumption that Jesus has easy sayings, that I am not sure we can make.
But here we have Jesus in Luke’s gospel fresh from his experience in Nazareth. After a couple of Sundays away, we have now come back to a time sequence, a time-line. Let me remind you that Jesus has been to synagogue in Nazareth, has read from the scroll of Isaiah, and has announced the beginning of the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy. He says he has been anointed to preach good news to the poor. And his opening words a few minutes later outside with the people are, “Blessed are you poor.” We are back with his central theme.
He unequivocally states that God’s kingdom is for the poor. Remember now that this is Jesus in Luke, not Matthew. Matthew quotes Jesus as saying “Blessed are the poor in spirit…” Not in Luke. It is literally the poor of this world who are destined for a complete reversal in the completion of God’s kingdom. And here the poor are those who are absolutely destitute, the kingdom of God is for them.
The poor are the hungry, the homeless, the captive, the grief stricken, and the oppressed. For them the kingdom of God means a complete reversal of their condition, of their situation, of their fortune. They will be filled. They will be protected from the elements. They will be freed. They will rejoice.
Well that’s great, isn’t it? Would you want anything less for people who are in those abject conditions? I wouldn’t. I would love for them to receive those blessings, and to be blessed in knowing that the kingdom is promised for them.
But, what about us? What about you? What about me? What about my household, and my kindred?
I don’t think it is off the mark to say that according to Jesus, we are not in, except as we help the kingdom be present for these poor now, in this life. Only as we care for, work on behalf of these poor now, in this life, will we get to share with them in the kingdom God has promised.
That is the hard saying of Jesus.
Jesus said, “Today this scripture is being fulfilled…” Well, is it? What are you and I doing to bring this scripture in fulfillment, in to the real lives of God’s people? It is not enough to pray, “Thy kingdom come” if we don’t show that its begun by what we do.
This week the church sets aside February 13th to remember Absalom Jones, in the Black History Month of February. I have posted his portrait on the bulletin board in Sayre Hall.
Absalom Jones, the first African American priest of the Episcopal Church, was born in slavery on November 6, 1746, in Sussex, Delaware. At the age of sixteen, he was moved to Philadelphia, where he worked in his slaveholder's store. In the evenings, he attended school and did independent work for hire. By 1784, he was able to purchase his freedom and enter business for himself.
Jones became a lay preacher for the African American members of St. George's Methodist Episcopal Church. One day in November 1787 Jones and other African American worshipers were pulled from their knees during prayers by a trustee of the church and were ordered to move to segregated pews in the balcony. Jones and the other black parishioners walked out of the church.
They began holding Sunday services. St. Thomas's Episcopal Church was accepted in the Pennsylvania Diocese of the Episcopal Church in 1794, with Absalom Jones as its licensed lay reader. He was ordained as deacon in 1794 and as priest in 1804.
In 1799, he drafted a petition, signed by seventy-three other African Americans, "to the President, Senate and House of Representatives" urging the immediate abolition of slavery.
In 1808 Absalom Jones preached on sermon on the occasion of the abolition of the Slave Trade in England and in the United States.
“The history of the world shows us that the deliverance of the children of Israel from their bondage is not the only instance in which it has pleased God to appear in behalf of oppressed and distressed nations, as the deliverer of the innocent, and of those who call upon his name. He is as unchangeable in his nature and character as he is in his wisdom and power. The great and blessed event, which we have this day met to celebrate, is a striking proof that the God of heaven and earth is the same, yesterday, and today, and forever. Yes, my brethren, the nations from which most of us have descended, and the country in which some of us were born, have been visited by the tender mercy of the Common Father of the human race. He has seen the affliction of our countrymen, with an eye of pity. He has seen the wicked arts, by which wars have been fomented among the different tribes of the Africans, in order to procure captives, for the purpose of selling them for slaves. He has seen ships fitted out from different ports in Europe and America, and freighted with trinkets to be exchanged for the bodies and souls of men. He has seen the anguish which has taken place when parents have been torn from their children, and children from their parents, and conveyed, with their hands and feet bound in fetters, on board of ships prepared to receive them.
“… Let the history of the sufferings of our brethren, and of their deliverance, descend …to our children to the remotest generations; and when they shall ask, in time to come, saying, What mean the lessons, the psalms, the prayers and the praises in the worship of this day? let us answer them, by saying, the Lord, on the day of which this is the anniversary, abolished the trade which dragged your fathers from their native country, and sold them as bondmen in the United States of America.”
“The God of heaven and earth is the same yesterday and today and forever.”
But today, children, women, and men are still sold into slavery today in every part of the world, including our own country. Today the average Anglican today is a 35-year-old black African woman living on $2 a day. Today millions are held in the bondage of poverty throughout the world and in this city of Bethlehem and it’s surroundings. The promise is for them. The blessing is for them.
Our blessedness and our release from woe – perhaps even our own entrance into heaven – come in our solidarity with the poor and the captive, our labor on their behalf, our being vessels which pour upon them God’s compassion and care.
One of the recent saints in this work is Mother Theresa. It is also the work of Joel Atkinson and Bob Wilkins and all the other New Bethany volunteers and so many others. It was the work of the cathedral youth last weekend in their retreat to learn about and do something about hunger. It is the work that God intends us all to engage.
The powers that be – those who are in power – often prefer an order that strengthens the status quo and their comfort, and leaves some things for the world to come.
Jesus has announced that the kingdom is now begun. Blessed are those who hear. Woe to those who don’t.
February 11, 2007
Jeremiah 17:5-10 + 1Corinthian 15:12-20 + Luke 6:17-26
Well, here we go again with the hard sayings of Jesus. You’d think that the easy sayings of Jesus would pop up every now and then, maybe one Sunday out of the month. Of course, that is a big assumption that Jesus has easy sayings, that I am not sure we can make.
But here we have Jesus in Luke’s gospel fresh from his experience in Nazareth. After a couple of Sundays away, we have now come back to a time sequence, a time-line. Let me remind you that Jesus has been to synagogue in Nazareth, has read from the scroll of Isaiah, and has announced the beginning of the fulfillment of Isaiah’s prophecy. He says he has been anointed to preach good news to the poor. And his opening words a few minutes later outside with the people are, “Blessed are you poor.” We are back with his central theme.
He unequivocally states that God’s kingdom is for the poor. Remember now that this is Jesus in Luke, not Matthew. Matthew quotes Jesus as saying “Blessed are the poor in spirit…” Not in Luke. It is literally the poor of this world who are destined for a complete reversal in the completion of God’s kingdom. And here the poor are those who are absolutely destitute, the kingdom of God is for them.
The poor are the hungry, the homeless, the captive, the grief stricken, and the oppressed. For them the kingdom of God means a complete reversal of their condition, of their situation, of their fortune. They will be filled. They will be protected from the elements. They will be freed. They will rejoice.
Well that’s great, isn’t it? Would you want anything less for people who are in those abject conditions? I wouldn’t. I would love for them to receive those blessings, and to be blessed in knowing that the kingdom is promised for them.
But, what about us? What about you? What about me? What about my household, and my kindred?
I don’t think it is off the mark to say that according to Jesus, we are not in, except as we help the kingdom be present for these poor now, in this life. Only as we care for, work on behalf of these poor now, in this life, will we get to share with them in the kingdom God has promised.
That is the hard saying of Jesus.
Jesus said, “Today this scripture is being fulfilled…” Well, is it? What are you and I doing to bring this scripture in fulfillment, in to the real lives of God’s people? It is not enough to pray, “Thy kingdom come” if we don’t show that its begun by what we do.
This week the church sets aside February 13th to remember Absalom Jones, in the Black History Month of February. I have posted his portrait on the bulletin board in Sayre Hall.
Absalom Jones, the first African American priest of the Episcopal Church, was born in slavery on November 6, 1746, in Sussex, Delaware. At the age of sixteen, he was moved to Philadelphia, where he worked in his slaveholder's store. In the evenings, he attended school and did independent work for hire. By 1784, he was able to purchase his freedom and enter business for himself.
Jones became a lay preacher for the African American members of St. George's Methodist Episcopal Church. One day in November 1787 Jones and other African American worshipers were pulled from their knees during prayers by a trustee of the church and were ordered to move to segregated pews in the balcony. Jones and the other black parishioners walked out of the church.
They began holding Sunday services. St. Thomas's Episcopal Church was accepted in the Pennsylvania Diocese of the Episcopal Church in 1794, with Absalom Jones as its licensed lay reader. He was ordained as deacon in 1794 and as priest in 1804.
In 1799, he drafted a petition, signed by seventy-three other African Americans, "to the President, Senate and House of Representatives" urging the immediate abolition of slavery.
In 1808 Absalom Jones preached on sermon on the occasion of the abolition of the Slave Trade in England and in the United States.
“The history of the world shows us that the deliverance of the children of Israel from their bondage is not the only instance in which it has pleased God to appear in behalf of oppressed and distressed nations, as the deliverer of the innocent, and of those who call upon his name. He is as unchangeable in his nature and character as he is in his wisdom and power. The great and blessed event, which we have this day met to celebrate, is a striking proof that the God of heaven and earth is the same, yesterday, and today, and forever. Yes, my brethren, the nations from which most of us have descended, and the country in which some of us were born, have been visited by the tender mercy of the Common Father of the human race. He has seen the affliction of our countrymen, with an eye of pity. He has seen the wicked arts, by which wars have been fomented among the different tribes of the Africans, in order to procure captives, for the purpose of selling them for slaves. He has seen ships fitted out from different ports in Europe and America, and freighted with trinkets to be exchanged for the bodies and souls of men. He has seen the anguish which has taken place when parents have been torn from their children, and children from their parents, and conveyed, with their hands and feet bound in fetters, on board of ships prepared to receive them.
“… Let the history of the sufferings of our brethren, and of their deliverance, descend …to our children to the remotest generations; and when they shall ask, in time to come, saying, What mean the lessons, the psalms, the prayers and the praises in the worship of this day? let us answer them, by saying, the Lord, on the day of which this is the anniversary, abolished the trade which dragged your fathers from their native country, and sold them as bondmen in the United States of America.”
“The God of heaven and earth is the same yesterday and today and forever.”
But today, children, women, and men are still sold into slavery today in every part of the world, including our own country. Today the average Anglican today is a 35-year-old black African woman living on $2 a day. Today millions are held in the bondage of poverty throughout the world and in this city of Bethlehem and it’s surroundings. The promise is for them. The blessing is for them.
Our blessedness and our release from woe – perhaps even our own entrance into heaven – come in our solidarity with the poor and the captive, our labor on their behalf, our being vessels which pour upon them God’s compassion and care.
One of the recent saints in this work is Mother Theresa. It is also the work of Joel Atkinson and Bob Wilkins and all the other New Bethany volunteers and so many others. It was the work of the cathedral youth last weekend in their retreat to learn about and do something about hunger. It is the work that God intends us all to engage.
The powers that be – those who are in power – often prefer an order that strengthens the status quo and their comfort, and leaves some things for the world to come.
Jesus has announced that the kingdom is now begun. Blessed are those who hear. Woe to those who don’t.
Tuesday, February 06, 2007
Epiphany 5: Hear what the Spirit is saying to God’s people
The Rev. Canon Bill Lewellis
Feb. 4, 2007
Isaiah 6:1-8 + 1 Corinthians 15:1-11 + Luke 5:1-11
May God’s word be in our minds and on our hearts … and on my lips. Hear what the Spirit is saying to God’s people. Amen.
Souper Day of Caring
Today is … both the Fifth Sunday after Epiphany and Super Bowl Sunday. Some of your teenage members have put the focus on a national “S-o-u-p-e-r Day of Caring” about hunger and poverty in local communities. They know we, too, care … and they will ask us to help. This morning, they will also have completed a 30-hour retreat during which they have been fasting . learning and praying about hunger.
Hear what the Spirit is saying …
I suspect you’ve heard some great sermons. You may not recognize, however, that the greatest sermons you’ve heard have been those you preached to yourselves … while the preacher preached on … about something or other.
How do I know this? There was a time, whenever someone complimented my sermon, especially if it was one I thought was pretty good myself, I’d ask if there was something in particular that got their attention. (That’s called fishing for a second compliment … or, perhaps, betting double or nothing.) Inevitably, I’d hear something quite insightful that I didn’t say.
Since then, my intuition has been that, when anyone tells me they liked the sermon I preached, you’re likely telling me it was simply the occasion for the great sermon you, as active listeners, preached to yourselves. That’s good. It means you were working as hard as I was.
So, let’s get to work.
Isaiah “heard the voice of the Lord saying, ‘Whom shall I send and who will go for us?’ And [Isaiah] said, ‘Here am I; send me’” Here am I. Here I am. Send me. Send me.
Hear what the Spirit is saying to God’s people.
Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Put out into the deep water.” Deep water. Where is the deep water in your life? What does it mean to strike out into the deep? Where are those places you’d rather not go?
Hear what the Spirit is saying …
Simon Peter answered, “Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. But, upon your word…”
Hear what the Spirit is saying …
“They caught so many fish that their nets were beginning to break … When Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus’ knees, saying, ‘Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.’ For he and all who were with him were amazed at the catch of fish that they had taken.”
All three readings this morning contain confessions of unworthiness. “Your sin is blotted out,” the angel told Isaiah. St. Paul tells us that he was unfit to be called an apostle. And Peter: “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.” It’s as though all three – Isaiah, Paul and Peter – felt threatened by the holy. But God won’t go away. Their sinfulness won’t keep God away.
Hear what the Spirit is saying …
Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Don’t be afraid.”
Hear what the Spirit is saying to God’s people.
Jesus said to Simon Peter, “From now on you will be catching people.” That’s from Luke’s gospel. In Matthew and Mark, we hear this as “I will make you fishers of people.”
I’ve never been keen on either metaphor. Catching people. Becoming fishers of people. Though I don’t take the Bible literally – no one really takes the Bible literally – I’ve still heard both phrases as just too manipulative. Until I heard that the verb in the original Greek text came to mean “to restore to life and strength, to revive, to keep alive.” Don’t be afraid, Jesus said to Peter. “From now on, you will be restoring people to life and strength.” Captivated by God, attentive to God, swept off our feet by God, we will restore people to life and strength.
Hear what the Spirit is saying to God’s people.
“They left everything and followed him.” They followed Jesus … after having been in the boat with him. The area of the church building in which you worship is called the nave. “Ship,” in Latin. That’s not simply coincidental. Returning to land, having been captivated by Jesus on the lake, they return changed, freed from their sinfulness released from whatever may have gotten in their way of following Jesus.
Hear what the Spirit is saying …
Epiphanies
Do you know how an epiphany works? It’s not God occasionally showing up. It’s we occasionally noticing.
God is ever tapping on our heads – ever ready also to be heartfelt – trying to get our attention. Once in a while we look up and say, Huh??? – or Aha!!! That’s an epiphany!
Isn’t it one of life’s greatest mysteries that God has a hard time getting our attention … while allowing us to be free?
My favorite theologian, a long time ago, still, was an English Canadian Jesuit who taught in Rome. He was an academic. A theologian’s theologian. That’s what you say when you don’t understand what a theologian is saying. He never wrote anything one might find on WalMart rack. Nothing like The Purpose-Driven Life … or Church. Surely, nothing like the Left Behind apocalyptic trash. Not even anything like Taking the Plunge, Anne Kitch’s wonderful book of practical theology on baptism and parenting.
I think that almost everything Bernard Lonergan wrote related in some way to one of his early books, Insight, a philosophical work on the experience of understanding. It was an attempt to help readers experience what actually happens within us when we understand something for the first time. The Aha moment. Probably the most exciting, fulfilling and satisfying moment next to … well … whatever.
I’ve slightly adapted what I think of as his Aha mantra, though I suspect he would never have called it that. It goes like this: Be attentive, be intelligent, be reasonable, be responsible, be in love … and, if necessary, change. Had not one of my best friends, your interim dean, imposed a time restriction on me, I would attempt to explain how that could be a religious rule of life. But, let that be your job. Preach the great sermon to yourself: Be attentive, be intelligent, be reasonable, be responsible, be in love … and, if necessary, change.
Might our lives be transformed right where we are, with the people we know and love? What wonders, what miracles, what epiphanies challenge our expectations? Look around. Be attentive to God. God is showing up. Hear what the Spirit is saying to God’s people.
[From the Collect for the Fifth Sunday after Epiphany] Set us free, O God, from the bondage of our sins, and give us the liberty of that abundant life which you have made known to us in your Son our Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.
Feb. 4, 2007
Isaiah 6:1-8 + 1 Corinthians 15:1-11 + Luke 5:1-11
May God’s word be in our minds and on our hearts … and on my lips. Hear what the Spirit is saying to God’s people. Amen.
Souper Day of Caring
Today is … both the Fifth Sunday after Epiphany and Super Bowl Sunday. Some of your teenage members have put the focus on a national “S-o-u-p-e-r Day of Caring” about hunger and poverty in local communities. They know we, too, care … and they will ask us to help. This morning, they will also have completed a 30-hour retreat during which they have been fasting . learning and praying about hunger.
Hear what the Spirit is saying …
I suspect you’ve heard some great sermons. You may not recognize, however, that the greatest sermons you’ve heard have been those you preached to yourselves … while the preacher preached on … about something or other.
How do I know this? There was a time, whenever someone complimented my sermon, especially if it was one I thought was pretty good myself, I’d ask if there was something in particular that got their attention. (That’s called fishing for a second compliment … or, perhaps, betting double or nothing.) Inevitably, I’d hear something quite insightful that I didn’t say.
Since then, my intuition has been that, when anyone tells me they liked the sermon I preached, you’re likely telling me it was simply the occasion for the great sermon you, as active listeners, preached to yourselves. That’s good. It means you were working as hard as I was.
So, let’s get to work.
Isaiah “heard the voice of the Lord saying, ‘Whom shall I send and who will go for us?’ And [Isaiah] said, ‘Here am I; send me’” Here am I. Here I am. Send me. Send me.
Hear what the Spirit is saying to God’s people.
Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Put out into the deep water.” Deep water. Where is the deep water in your life? What does it mean to strike out into the deep? Where are those places you’d rather not go?
Hear what the Spirit is saying …
Simon Peter answered, “Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. But, upon your word…”
Hear what the Spirit is saying …
“They caught so many fish that their nets were beginning to break … When Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus’ knees, saying, ‘Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.’ For he and all who were with him were amazed at the catch of fish that they had taken.”
All three readings this morning contain confessions of unworthiness. “Your sin is blotted out,” the angel told Isaiah. St. Paul tells us that he was unfit to be called an apostle. And Peter: “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.” It’s as though all three – Isaiah, Paul and Peter – felt threatened by the holy. But God won’t go away. Their sinfulness won’t keep God away.
Hear what the Spirit is saying …
Jesus said to Simon Peter, “Don’t be afraid.”
Hear what the Spirit is saying to God’s people.
Jesus said to Simon Peter, “From now on you will be catching people.” That’s from Luke’s gospel. In Matthew and Mark, we hear this as “I will make you fishers of people.”
I’ve never been keen on either metaphor. Catching people. Becoming fishers of people. Though I don’t take the Bible literally – no one really takes the Bible literally – I’ve still heard both phrases as just too manipulative. Until I heard that the verb in the original Greek text came to mean “to restore to life and strength, to revive, to keep alive.” Don’t be afraid, Jesus said to Peter. “From now on, you will be restoring people to life and strength.” Captivated by God, attentive to God, swept off our feet by God, we will restore people to life and strength.
Hear what the Spirit is saying to God’s people.
“They left everything and followed him.” They followed Jesus … after having been in the boat with him. The area of the church building in which you worship is called the nave. “Ship,” in Latin. That’s not simply coincidental. Returning to land, having been captivated by Jesus on the lake, they return changed, freed from their sinfulness released from whatever may have gotten in their way of following Jesus.
Hear what the Spirit is saying …
Epiphanies
Do you know how an epiphany works? It’s not God occasionally showing up. It’s we occasionally noticing.
God is ever tapping on our heads – ever ready also to be heartfelt – trying to get our attention. Once in a while we look up and say, Huh??? – or Aha!!! That’s an epiphany!
Isn’t it one of life’s greatest mysteries that God has a hard time getting our attention … while allowing us to be free?
My favorite theologian, a long time ago, still, was an English Canadian Jesuit who taught in Rome. He was an academic. A theologian’s theologian. That’s what you say when you don’t understand what a theologian is saying. He never wrote anything one might find on WalMart rack. Nothing like The Purpose-Driven Life … or Church. Surely, nothing like the Left Behind apocalyptic trash. Not even anything like Taking the Plunge, Anne Kitch’s wonderful book of practical theology on baptism and parenting.
I think that almost everything Bernard Lonergan wrote related in some way to one of his early books, Insight, a philosophical work on the experience of understanding. It was an attempt to help readers experience what actually happens within us when we understand something for the first time. The Aha moment. Probably the most exciting, fulfilling and satisfying moment next to … well … whatever.
I’ve slightly adapted what I think of as his Aha mantra, though I suspect he would never have called it that. It goes like this: Be attentive, be intelligent, be reasonable, be responsible, be in love … and, if necessary, change. Had not one of my best friends, your interim dean, imposed a time restriction on me, I would attempt to explain how that could be a religious rule of life. But, let that be your job. Preach the great sermon to yourself: Be attentive, be intelligent, be reasonable, be responsible, be in love … and, if necessary, change.
Might our lives be transformed right where we are, with the people we know and love? What wonders, what miracles, what epiphanies challenge our expectations? Look around. Be attentive to God. God is showing up. Hear what the Spirit is saying to God’s people.
[From the Collect for the Fifth Sunday after Epiphany] Set us free, O God, from the bondage of our sins, and give us the liberty of that abundant life which you have made known to us in your Son our Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.
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