Sunday, April 22, 2012


The Very Rev. Anthony R. Pompa

April 22, 2012

Sesquicentennial-Central Moravian-Nativity in History





“We Welcome you, because your fathers joined hands with us around the Cross; because in principles and practice we have many things in common; because we both desire the same high and holy end.”

The Rev. Edmund deSchweinitz, Good Friday 1865





These words spoken by the Pastor of Central Moravian in a joint service held here in this space (smaller space then) on Good Friday were words of welcome as a fledgling congregation of Episcopalians were crossing the threshold of a holy dream of a new congregation into what would become a Cathedral of God’s imagination.  These words, spoken by Mr. deSchweinitz, were repeated to us, just an hour ago, by Pastor Carol Reifinger, of Central Moravian Church, and she standing on the shoulders of those who have come before, send us now with yet again a blessing, a blessing that bids us welcome to cross again and anew the threshold’s in our lives and emerge as a blessed people of faith who gather in this Cathedral of God’s imagination.



John O’Donahue in his book, “To Bless the Space Between us: A Book of Blessings”,  suggests  that the culture of business in which we live challenges our sense of community and connectedness. He says, “while our culture is all gloss and pace on the outside, within it is too often haunted and lost. The commercial edge of so called “progress” has cut away a huge region of human tissue and webbing that held us in communion with one another. We are at rise of falling out of belonging. Consequently, we stand before crucial thresholds in our lives, we have no rituals to protect, encourage, and guide us as we cross into the unknown.”

A blessing, he reminds us is that which evokes a sense of warmth and protection, a reminder that no life is lived alone; that each life is clothed in raiment of spirit that secretly links it to everything else. That through all things, there is an inner light of providence that can never be quenched because we are a blessed people connected to one another.



My dear friends: I invite you this day to cross again as our forbears did the thresholds of our lives into this Cathedral of Imagination. I invite you to stand on the shoulders of those who have gone before and have found the words, rituals, the poetry, the songs to connect them And to Be a people of Blessing!

This time is our time and it is a time of new beginnings. It is a time of new beginnings because we are a people of new beginnings. This is our story, its an Easter story. New beginnings at every turn. Let us go as Blessed into the Cathedral of God’s imagination.



In our of the way places of the heart, Where your thoughts never think to wander,

This beginning has been quietly forming, Waiting until you were ready to emerge.

For a long time it has watched your desire, Feeling the emptiness growing inside you,

Noticing how you willed yourself on, Still unable to leave what you had outgrown.

It watched you play with the seduction of safety, And the gray promises of sameness whispered,

Heard the waves of turmoil rise and relent, Wondered would you always live like this.

Then the delight, when your courage kindled, And you stepped onto new ground,

Your eyes young again with energy and dream, A path of plenitude opening before you.

Though your destination is not yet clear You can trust the promise of this opening;

Unfurl yourself into the grace of beginning; This is at one with your life’s desire.

Awaken your spirit of adventure;

Hold nothing back, learn to find ease in risk;

Soon you will be home in  a new rhythym,

For your soul senses the world that awaits you.


Monday, April 02, 2012

Palm Sunday

Palm Sunday: The Sunday of Passion
The Cathedral Church of the Nativity
Bethlehem, PA
Sunday April 1, 2012
The Very Rev. Anthony R. Pompa
 
Our lives are lived in a fickle world. Our lives themselves may be seen as such sometimes, fickle. In one moment of time our enthusiasm, belief, trust, and confidence might find a perfect repository for its investment. In a person, a situation, a place. In the next moment of time our doubt, skepticism, mistrust, and insecurity might find itself in a darker place, even an uglier place. Weeds of darkness then choking off even to death, the fruit of a previous investment.
How fickle is this story of the human experience we tell on this day, this week. A triumphal entry it is described as, for Jesus of Nazareth into Jerusalem. This ancient city whose streets are lined with the diversity and complexity of humanity. So many there in that city on pilgrimage to bring their humanity to the holiness of Jerusalem. Some in that crowd depositing their enthusiasm, belief, trust, and confidence in the hope of what they believe this Jesus represents for their lives.
How quickly our story turns; how fickle is the human experience, as these songs of praise turn to shouts that call us to the darkness of death. How diminished and darkened are the hopes and dreams for some, how dark becomes the day when the poison of skepticism, threat, and mistrust shows its ugliest hand.
How quickly the story we tell this week turns from light to darkness and soon then again, from darkness to light: From Hosanna! To Crucify Him! From Crucify Him to He is Risen! As we ponder our own human experience, is this not a truth filled pattern for the human condition? Light and darkness, darkness and light?
We dare to call this week holy. We do so even as we enter it in the fickle contrast of the human experience of light to darkness; darkness to light.
Our story has us pondering the darkness of Jesus’ crucifixion and suffering; which of us has not suffered one way or another? We've all had our crucifixions, where God seems to be absent and light seems to disappear, and the world is dark and terrifying. Anybody with faith or without faith has had somehow to live through that kind of a time. The question is what comes out of that time?
We've all known our dark times; we've all felt abandoned by God or felt there was no such thing as God to abandon us -- just the emptiness, the craziness of the world. Yet, equally crazy, out of this, it seems faith can often come.
It seems to me that there is an intersection of this light and darkness; darkness and light. A place where our enthusiasm, belief, trust, and confidence intersect with our doubt, mistrust, skepticism, and insecurity. This day, this week, we follow Jesus to the cross, and there find this intersection, a cross if you will. We are invited with courage to raise our eyes and gaze upon it; for it seems to be that very intersection there may be a crucible where a mature faith is to be discovered.
When we follow Jesus to the cross we find the great trial of humanity, its fickle nature, the light and the darkness, and somehow if we gaze upon it we find there is an opportunity to discover an unrealized courage, an unimaginable hope for life. A fierceness to stand and look in the eye the ugliest of scenes so that we may conquer them; A stamina discovered to journey an extra mile down the roughest of roads; a resilience to fight back with voice and heart when life kicks us hard even as our eyes struggle in the haze of darkness to embrace the light of a new day dawning.
In a weeks time we will wake in the darkness of the morning, having travelled with Jesus through the darkest of times. It will be dark and our eyes will be fuzzy and worn from the journey of heart and soul. Yet we will raise our eyes to the horizon and await a dawning of a new day. Our question: What will we see? What will we see?
This sermon was inspired by an interview of The Rev. Fred Buechner which took place on PBS in 2008.