Lent 4: Ssssssnakesssss

The Rev. Laura Howell
March 23, 2006
Numbers 21:4-9; Ephesians 2:1-10; John 3:14-21

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Many thanks for your wonderful hospitality, and for inviting me here to preach today. We are very excited about the sharing going on between Trinity and the Cathedral, and look forward to continuing with it.

I was wondering if there would be fewer people in church than normal today because of the readings. I know how much everybody loves ssssssnakesssss. Sssssserpentsssss. Sssslitherersssss. Assspssss. Cobrasssss. Ewwwww!

Today’s Old Testament reading is one of the Bible stories I remember most vividly from childhood. As I think back, I can still feel the shivers I got as the teacher described the people of Israel carefully watching every step they took over the dry, rocky ground, for fear they might stumble on a snake and be bitten. Or how the snakes would glide into their tents after dark and grab them. Or leap out at them from holes in the ground as they walked by. I remember the macabre picture I had in my mind of the bronze snake being hoisted up on a pole, and everybody pushing and shoving so they could get a good look at it and not die from snakebite. I imagined all the snakes rearing up on their tails, staring at it, and then rustle rustle creeping away, because now it was no use to bite anyone. Really, it is kind of a scriptural Stephen King story, isn’t it?

As a child, the lesson I took from the story is that if you’re bad, God will punish you, but will also provide a way to be saved. The story also explained to my little-kid mind why my grandmother was so afraid of snakes and always carried a hoe out into the garden. Logic wasn’t my strong suit back then….

Reading this story from an adult perspective, I realize it is far more complex. What is going on here? Israel has been a fairly rowdy people. Following a series of destructive miracles, the Egyptians have agreed to let them leave. God has led them through the Red Sea on dry land and has guided them in a pillar of fire and cloud. When they were thirsty, water miraculously appeared. When they were hungry, God sent manna. Pretty amazing series of events! And now, they are getting cranky and complaining. Again. “There’s nothing to eat. There’s nothing to drink. And I don’t like what there is to eat.”

Apparently logic is not their strong suit, either. I don’t like the food that’s on the menu, so suddenly there is nothing to eat. Sounds like some kids I know: they say that they are bored because there is nothing to do, but they sure don’t want to do homework!

Probably there wouldn’t have been a problem if this had been the first time the Israelites were complaining. But they had made a habit of it. So much so that at one point, Moses cried out to God, “Help me! Because these people are almost ready to stone me!”

It’s easy to stand back and judge the misbehavior and ingratitude of the Israelites. We can cluck our tongues and look down our noses at them, self-righteously imagining that WE would have done better. But I know how grumpy I get when I am traveling for a week and don’t get enough sleep. Or when the food isn’t right. Imagine how you would feel if you were traveling on foot for years? And in fear for your lives as well?

No, grumbling and complaining isn’t limited to the ancient Israelites. It’s a very common human trait, but a very dangerous one. This reading equates grumbling with poison. And with death. It’s a bit extreme, don’t you think, to equate the people kvetching in the wilderness with death? I’m not so sure about that, though.

Grumbling is divisive. Grumbling is subversive. Grumbling impedes progress and undermines the community. Look at what happened here: even after all the miracles they had experienced, the people began to look backward to “the good old days.” Instead of forging ahead following God and their leaders into the future, they sat down and whined about how great it was in Egypt. Of course, they conveniently forgot the horror of Egypt—their slavery, the massacre of their baby boys. But rather than go forward into an unknown land, they yearned after the past. It was uncomfortable back there, but at least it was familiar.

They are also refusing to take any responsibility for themselves. They say, “Why have YOU brought us up out of Egypt,” as though they hadn’t left on their feet. “Moses, you MADE us do it. You made these changes. NOW FIX IT!” Passing the buck is another kind of dangerous behavior. The next step in this process is either a sit-down strike or a return to the old ways. A strike in the desert would result in death from starvation, dehydration or exposure. A return to the old ways would result in death at the hands of the Egyptians. What’s a God to do? God gives them a god’s-eve view of themselves: there they are with poison slinking all over. God brings their death-inducing behavior into the light of day. Saving them, performing miracles, loving them, leading them apparently is not enough. Only suffering and death will get their attention. So let them suffer if they insist on it.

But for some inexplicable reason, God loves these people, and makes provision that if they look at the serpent on the pole, they will be healed. Therein we have the real crux of the story. The inner poison of complaining that the people enjoy is brought out into the open, where it can be seen for the danger that it is. By an act of obedience and faith, they can look on the bronze snake, and are healed.

St. John makes the connection between the snake of bronze lifted on a pole and Jesus being lifted up on the cross. He says that those who do evil, are afraid of Christ, the Light of the World, because they want their evil doings to remain hidden. Those who do what is true, come to the Light and their deeds are revealed.

This does not necessarily mean that the people of faith are perfect and that they never do anything wrong, but that they are prepared to have their hidden frailties and sins exposed to the light so they can be healed.

What an amazingly wise psychological, as well as spiritual, teaching! Sins that are kept under wraps, hatch under ground, like snakes, and breed poison. When I become poisoned, I am likely to complain and grumble and sabotage, and spread my poison to the community around me. As the Gospel says, if I do evil, I love darkness, rather than light, and will do everything I can to shutter that light. And I certainly will not enjoy associating with people who are in the light.

My sins are not private and personal. What I do affects everyone around me—the whole body of Christ. If I obey God’s call, I believe in Christ, and I become a person of light—I open mind and heart to the light, see where my sins are, and begin to deal with them. If I disobey, I stay in the darkness, and my sins eventually overtake me. If I look upon Christ and believe, I live. If I refuse, I die. According to Scripture, it is as simple as that.

It boggles the mind to think that some people might refuse such an open and welcoming invitation. Probably some of the Israelites refused to gaze on the bronze serpent. Maybe they said, “That’s superstitious claptrap.” Or, “What will people think?” Or, “I’d have to give up too much.” They refused to look, and they died.

Do you have an excuse for not walking in the Light of Christ? Are you too embarrassed to admit that you have sinned and need healing? Are you comfortable with the way things are and you’d rather not have to move on? True, we are saved by faith, completely and gratuitously. But we must look up in order to live. There is healing for what poisons us, but we must reach out for it. Amen.

Lent 2:Trust

The Venerable Richard I. Cluett
March 12, 2006
Genesis 17:1-7, 15-16; Romans 8:31-39; Mark 8:31-38


Wouldn’t it be wonderful to have direct revelation from God - whether Father, Son or Holy Spirit, - about what is about to happen, or what you should be doing, or not doing. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to have a godly “heads-up” about what is up-coming, or around the corner? Wouldn’t it be wonderful to have an angelic earful about what is necessary in a given situation? That was perhaps the first blessing received by Abram – God revealing plan and purpose and direction to Abram.

Well, my experience is not that of Abram nor of those who walked in the company of Jesus. My life is filled with gray areas, unanswered questions, lack of clarity, too many options, and a reluctance to make the wrong choice, the wrong decision.
Since we can feel so removed from the biblical times we read about, how are we to know what to do, what direction to go in?

Let me try to answer this with what you might think of as a “personal parable” – beginning with a little bit of Cluett history.
I grew up on the water - specifically Long Is¬land Sound, a long finger of salt water separating New York's Long Island from the Commonwealth of Connecticut. From my earliest days I sailed. First as a passenger, just enjoying the motion and the breeze. Then as an occasional pilot, with my hand on the hand on the tiller; then later as the pilot of little boats and then captain of big¬ger boats. Sail¬ing and racing up and down Long Island Sound. I was nurtured and raised on the knowledge, practice and lore of sail¬ing. Boats and wa¬ter were home to me.

One summer when I was in my early-twenties, a friend and I had the use of a 34 foot sloop for an entire summer. That was like being in heaven. For a few weekends, we would take it out and sail around Long Island Sound. After a while though, we felt too con¬fined, it was boring. We needed to move out, explore more of the water and expand our boundaries.

We decided to sail to Block Is¬land, Rhode Island. A long day’s sail out into the ocean from Guil¬ford, CT where our boat was moored. It would be the first time I had navigated out of the sight of land, but I had been sailing and navigating all my life. So, not to worry.

We made all the preparations and set sail just at dawn. One hour out of the harbor, the wind died, the temperature dropped and the fog rolled in. In just a matter of moments we could not see from the stern to the mast. It was a granddaddy of a pea-souper. No wind. Strong currents. Heavy fog. We were in serious trouble.

I had never taken a course in navigating. I had just learned it as I sailed with older folks as I grew up. It had become natural to me. But, I had been navigating all my life within the safe bound¬aries of Long Island Sound. This time, if I miscalculated, if we missed Block Island - a very small island - we would find ourselves on our way to the next landfall — which was Portugal; with a lot of water, miles, storms, huge ships, and danger in between.

We were in the fog, in the soup, in trouble, becoming more and more frightened. Which way do we go? Why did we ever decide to do this? All of a sudden, I was unsure. I felt too young, too inexperienced, too immature, too naive, not good enough, didn't know enough, and we could die.

Turning back was not a good op¬tion, unless I could turn the clock back and find myself warm and safe in my bed. But it made no sense to turn the boat around because there are shoals and rocks all along the coast of New England. And we couldn't stay where we were because we were in the shipping lanes. What were we to do?

In the fog, in the dangerous situation, in the fear, in the unknown, I prayed. I prayed mightily, as I never had before, but have many times since, and I found God there in the cloud, in the danger place, in the unknown, in the fear. God is there. God is there with us. God is there with a word of love. God is there with a way to go through. If we will just listen.

Trust what I had been taught. Trust what I had learned. Trust my experience. Trust what I believed. – And go forward.
In the 19th century there was a whaling captain by the name of Eleazer Hull. (I wanted to name our second son Eleazer, but Patricia uttered a definite, “NO”, so Eleazer become Sam.)

Eleazer Hull was the finest of whaling captains. He was known, for each season sailing the farthest, catching the most whales, coming back the earliest, and losing the least sailors. He was the finest navigator. He would go up on deck, look at the stars, smell the breeze, watch the wind in the rigging, get the drift of the seas, and then go below to chart his course.

One year the company which insured the whaling com¬panies issued a policy that all officers had to attend and pass a course in navigation. Captain Hull went over strong objection. Learned how to use a sextant, and all the latest technologies and techniques, and passed the course.

The next season, again, Captain Hull sailed the far¬thest, caught the most whales, came back the earliest, and lost the least sailors. When asked if he used the new techniques he learned. He replied, "Oh yes. I go up on deck with my instruments and perform all the calculations and go below and make notes on the charts. Then I go back on deck and look at the stars, smell the breeze, watch the wind in the rigging, get the drift of the seas, and then go below to change my course.

I had been raised to sail. Taught, nurtured, and practiced, so long, so much that it was part of my nature, part of my very being. Listen to all that. Trust what, in the clear, obvious calm, moments was so easy to trust. Believe that I had been taught, nurtured, and pre¬pared to deal with situations like this. Do what you know and be¬lieve.

Each one of us at one time or another finds ourselves in a real pea-souper of a fog. Unsure of the way to go, fearful of making the wrong choice, going in the wrong direction, wanting to go back to a safer, more secure time, regretting the decisions we had made that had got us into this situation. Feeling afraid, bereft, alone, inadequate, lost at sea, and feeling ourselves to be in a danger place.

It is especially in times of uncertainty and fear that God speaks louder than usual, seems more obviously present than usual to tell us of his love and to remind us that if we listen, we will make it through. We have been taught, nurtured, lived and loved in God for so long, that it is part of our nature, part of our very being.

Listen to all that. Trust what, in the clear, obvious calm, moments was so easy to trust. Believe that we had been taught, nurtured, and prepared to deal with situations like this. – and go forward.

One of the times, (there have had to be many) I learned to trust again was on a sailboat in the middle of the sea lost in a cloud of fog and fear. God was there, and so I trusted. I did what I knew: watched the wind in the rigging, sailed across the current, checked the charts, watched the compass, and tooted the fog horn. And listened to God speak in my heart that somehow we would get through.

We motored on, and on and on. Finally a zephyr of a breeze came up, we raised the sails and finally the fog lifted and -- we were dead -- dead on the harbor. A mile ahead of us, with the early evening sun slanting across the houses on the hillside.
We came out of the fog on course for the harbor and for safety. – As will we all – if we have the courage and the faith to continue on with the journey. Thanks be to God - who is always “there.”.

Wednesday in Lent 1, 2006

The Venerable Howard Stringfellow
March 8
Jonah 3:1-10, Psalm 51:11-18, Saint Luke 11:29-32

In the Name of the True and Living God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

In today’s Gospel, Jesus tells the crowds, “Something greater than Jonah is here.” He tells them this because the people of Nineveh repented when Jonah preached to them. Why do those in the crowds not repent when Jesus preaches to them? They seek a sign, some proof, something to take all doubt away, some permission, some green light that makes the way forward, the way that Jesus recommends, more attractive than the way they are pursuing on their own. The crowds want something more than just Jesus’ preaching.

That kind of certainty, the certainty of a sign, let’s call it, may not be ours to have. My mind races to Easter, to the evening of the Sunday after the first Day of the Resurrection, when Jesus tells Thomas, and the disciples with him, “Blessed are those who have not seen and yet have come to believe.” Blessed are those who have no sign and yet have come to believe—

Which is most of us. Most of us have not noticed supernatural interference in our lives. The key is "noticed". For we’ve had the interference. In perhaps subtle ways God is drawing us in. And today God is drawing us in by reminding us that the pull is benign and the preaching is short of certainty, but God awaits patiently to see whether we will give to God a regard equal to what we have already been given.

Would you stop doing something you know you shouldn’t do because Jesus died and rose again?

In Christ’s Name. Amen.

Lent 1:What is at the center of your universe?

The Rev. Canon Anne E. Kitch
March 5, 2006
Genesis 9:8-17; Mark 1:9-15

What is at the center of your universe?

What is at the center of your universe? In the beginning of the 16th century, a canon at the Cathedral in Frauenberg, Poland, one Nicholas Copernicus, postulated that the earth was not the center of the universe. This was a shocking theory. At that time, the universe was thought to be a closed sphere with the earth a fixed point at its center. All the other heavenly bodies were known to revolve around the earth. Beyond this sphere of heaven there was… nothing. This understanding of the universe fit the description scholars read in the bible about the creation of the heavens and the earth. But it was more than an earth-centered universe that the theory of Copernicus challenged. It was the place of humankind in creation. The prevailing teaching of the time not only postulated that the earth was the center of the universe, but also that humankind was the center of creation. To challenge an earth-centered view of the universe was a challenge to man’s ego. After all, weren’t humans created in God’s image and thus superior to all creation? Copernicus' theories might well lead some to conclude that human beings are simply part of nature and not superior to it. This ran counter to the medieval teachings of the church, which was the political and scientific power of the time.

Copernicus didn’t get in too much trouble himself over this. His work was not widely published until after his death. Even then it was not taken too seriously by most because it was published as a kind of fiction. Yet, a hundred years later, the Roman Church condemned the theory of Copernicus. It went against the Holy Scriptures and the teachings of the church. It was heresy. Who could seriously believe that anything but the earth was the center of all things, and humankind superior? So when Galileo, a scientist who had first wanted to be a monk, published his support of Copernicus’ theory that the sun, and not the earth, was the center of the universe, he was accused of heresy. He was brought before the inquisition in Rome and given a life sentence. He spent his last ten years in house arrest and died a heretic. It was not even permitted for him to be buried in the family tomb in the Basilica. Heretics are not easily forgiven. It would be 350 years later before Pope John Paul II admitted that the theologians who studied Galileo’s case had been misled. It is hard to reorient oneself when the center of the universe changes. What is at the center of your universe?

The Noah story is quite familiar to us and many think of it as a children’s story. After all a Noah’s Ark is popular toy and pictures of animals marching two by two populate many a nursery wall. Yet the best children’s stories are ones that point beyond themselves, speaking simply of complex truths. The Noah story encompasses life and death, sin, judgment, repentance and renewal. The Noahic Covenant, the sacred agreement God makes with Noah, is one of the foundational covenants of our faith. This story is a pillar of our sacred story, our history, our faith. And like the teachings of Copernicus and Galileo, it challenges the thought that humankind are superior within God’s creation.

Before God’s covenant with Moses about the promised land, before God’s covenant with Abraham about a chosen people, God made a covenant with Noah promising life. Never again, God promises, will a flood destroy the earth. God places the rainbow in the sky as a sign of that covenant. This is God’s sacred agreement with Noah. Yet a friend of mine who is writing a book about our animal companions points out that there is a bit more to this covenant. Actually, it’s the sacred agreement that God makes with Noah and his descendants…and every living creature…and birds...and domestic animals…and every animal of earth that came out of the ark. God covenants with every living creature; it’s stated four times in this one passage we heard read today. God covenants with Noah and parrots and cows and elephants and penguins and artic foxes. Guess what? Human beings are not the only recipients of God’s love and attention. We may like to think of ourselves as the pinnacle of creation, but think about it. How would creation fare if you took us out of it?..the ecosystems of the world would go on just fine. But if you removed crows or earthworms or the artic fox? We are beginning to understand just how interrelated these ecosystems are. Humans are not the center of creation, or the universe. It is hard to reorient oneself, when the center of the universe changes. What is at the center of your universe?

The Ark is a good image for Lent in many ways: it carried creation on a journey for 40 days, a journey through a desert of water, a journey through death to rebirth, a new creation and a new covenant. Perhaps also because of God’s extraordinary covenant with all living flesh, the Noah story reminds us that Lent can be a time for us to take stock. What do our lives revolve around? A dose of humility added to out human pride is hardly ever a bad thing. Lent is about trying to allow something other than ourselves to be at the center of our universe. It is hard to reorient oneself, when the center of the universe changes.

Jesus comes to John in the Jordan and is baptized. As he comes up from the water his place in God’s creation is made quite clear. The heavens are torn open, the Spirit descends on him like a dove, and if those are not enough signs, a voice from heaven cinches the deal, “You are my son, the beloved, with you I am well pleased.” Surely this is the center of the universe…how can you go wrong with putting the messiah, the Christ, at the center? Surely Jesus is the center of the universe for John. But what kind of Christ is this? Apparently not one who takes up the cloak of leadership, claims superiority over all creation and rules the heavens and the earth. Rather this messiah is immediately driven into the wilderness, is tempted by Satan, and lives with wild beasts. When he does return, after John is arrested, it is not as a triumphant warrior, but as one who serves. What kind of God is at the center of your universe? It is hard to reorient oneself, when the center of the universe changes.

Yet this is our dance, our dance with God. One in which we shift our understanding, our orientation again and again. It is a dance through time as we as a people, as a church, try to perceive and understand God, try to live into our covenant. This is the dance between us and our savior, the one who makes a new covenant with us. It is a dance between us and the one who serves, a dance of love, of forgiveness, of renewal.
George Herbert (1593-1633), an Anglican priest and poet, was a contemporary of Galileo’s. He wrote this:

Love bade me welcome, yet my soul drew back,
Guilty of dust and sin.
But quick-eyed Love, observing me grow slack
From my first entrance in,
Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning
If I lacked any thing.

A guest, I answered, worthy to be here:
Love said, you shall be he.
I, the unkind, the ungrateful? Ah my dear,
I cannot look on thee.
Love took my hand, and smiling did reply,
Who made the eyes but I?

Truth, Lord, but I have marred them; let my shame
Go where it doth deserve.
And know you not, says Love, who bore the blame?
My dear, then I will serve.
You must sit down, says Love, and taste my meat:
So I did sit and eat.

It is so hard to reorient oneself, when the center of the universe changes.

What is at the center of your universe?


(note: for more thoughts about the Noah Covenant and the place of animals in creation see the forthcoming Ark & Covenant: The Blessing of Animal Companions, by Debra Farrington available from Paraclete Press in Sept. 2006.)

Ash Wednesday: Free at last

The Venerable Richard I. Cluett
March 1, 2006
Joel 2:1-2,12-17; 2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10; Matthew 6:1-6,16-21

Do you know that there are two kinds of people? I'm not referring to male and female types, or rich and poor types or other types either. The differences I'm talking about are more basic than even those. The first type of person is the one who goes up to bed at the end of the evening, goes to bed tired after a long day, and then cannot go to sleep. Rather, as the eyes close, the mind revs up; and before you know it, you are off on a whole of host of issues, at breakneck speed.

The other kind of person is my kind of person. I can go to sleep at the drop of an eyelid, no matter what cataclysm or chaos is impending. But between 2 and 3 o'clock in the morning, my eyelids spring open, my mind kicks into gear and I'm off.

In the middle of the night I know myself differently than I do at any other time. For me, for many of us, I think, it is a time when we are most aware of ourselves as sinful creatures.

At that time I know myself, my shortcomings, my failings, my inadequacies, my sin. They are spread out before me in an unending parade of night images. As if they were laid out on a smorgasbord table, I can pick and choose one to worry on; or I can take a bite of each offering. Failings as husband, father, provider, priest, archdeacon, friend, brother, human being, disciple of Jesus or child of God. In the night hours I assault, I afflict myself with my sin. “I know my transgressions and my sin is ever before me.”

But in the morning, we can be different people, can't we. At least, I can be. In the bright morning light, I can arise refreshed, with energy, ready to meet the day and whatever it has to offer with a sense of security about my person. Some days, even confidence. Some days, even arrogance about my abilities, my gifts, my person, my wonderfulness. But at the core, I know I am, to use an impolite expression, “full of it.”

All of which leads me to say that this day, Ash Wednesday, may be for some of us the most important day, the most wonderful day in the Christian calendar. With the exception of Good Friday, all the other days are major feast days, days of remembrance, celebration, and contemplation of the acts of God – in the past. Even Good Friday is something like that; the day is totally focused on the acts of Jesus.

But today, today is about us. It is a very personal day that has solely to do with our relationship with God, and with ourselves. It is a day that provides a unique opportunity for us to say, in the words of Martin Luther King, Jr., "Free at last! Free at Last! Thank God Almighty, free at last!"

This is the day we can be released from whatever it is that has bound us for so long. This is the day we can be released from whatever it is that has separated us. We can be released from whatever it is that has isolated us. This is the day we can be released from whatever it is about us that has condemned us in our own sight. We can finally lay the burden down, the burden of guilt that we have laid upon ourselves.

Garrison Keillor says that "Guilt is the gift that keeps on giving" - and we give it to ourselves. We bind it upon our backs.

But this is Ash Wednesday. This is "Get out of Jail" day. This is "Get home free day". At the end of this day, at the end of this liturgy, we can be washed clean. At the end of this day, at the end of this liturgy, we can be made be made dazzling white, cleaner than any fullers bleach could make us. Fresh and clean as a newborn babe, as a newly baptized babe. You and me – a new creation.

If we will repent and re-turn to the Lord, "our God will have compassion and he will richly pardon." And we can begin again. We can start anew. We can get over it - whatever it is. We can get over ourselves, and get right with our God, and begin to get right with those with whom we live, and among whom we live, and with the rest of God's creation.

Today is about us - about God and us. It is a day to get over ourselves, beyond ourselves, outside ourselves, and get on with life as God intends it to be. Get on with our life in the fullness God has prepared for us.

Today God says, "It is over. What is done is done. I love you and you are now forgiven. I absolve you from all that has separated you from me. I absolve you from all that has separated you from your family or friends or neighbors. I absolve you from all that has separated you from yourself."

William Countryman is a wonderful teacher and theologian. He writes about it this way:

"The message of forgiveness says to us, Get over yourself! Get over your goodness and your righteousness, if they threaten to keep you from full participation in your humanity. Get over your faults, your inadequacy, if they're what hold you back. Get over whatever it is that makes you self-obsessed, whatever makes you reject God's wooing of you, whatever makes you feel that you would rather not go in to the party, whatever makes you feel like you belong to some separate and superior race of beings, whatever makes you feel like an eternal victim, whatever makes you imagine that there's something in this world more important and more fundamental than love."

No wonder the prophet Joel says to:
Blow the trumpet in Zion;
sanctify a fast;
call a solemn assembly;
gather the people.
Sanctify the congregation;
assemble the aged;
gather the children,
even infants at the breast.

If we repent and turn to the Lord, we "may obtain of the God of all mercy, perfect remission and forgiveness". Do you hear that? "Perfect remission and forgiveness." Made worthy to stand before God. Washed through and through from our wickedness and cleansed from our sin.

Freed from all that binds us. Freed from all that separates us. Freed from all that isolates us. Freed from all that condemns us. Free at last. Free to take our rightful place at the table. Free to get on with life. Free to get about the work of building the kingdom. Free to help release others from whatever binds them or diminishes their God-given humanity. Free at last! Today.
It’s Ash Wednesday.

Thanks be to God.

Ash Wednesday: Grimy things, ashes

The Venerable Howard Stringfellow
March 1 2006
Joel 2:1-2,12-17; 2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10; Matthew 6:1-6,16-21


In the Name of the True and Living God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

The voice you are about to hear may, or may not, resemble mine or yours.

“Grimy things, ashes. They are sooty and dirty, too. And when the priest presses them into my forehead, they’re gritty, too. They rub in and scratch a bit. And if they’re too many on the priest’s thumb, they fall down onto your nose and glasses’ frames. Then they’re the devil to get out. One year some ashes got stuck in my glasses’ frames next to the lens, and I didn’t find a way ever to get them out. I took the glasses back to Lenscrafters, had the lens removed from the frames and put back in when they had gotten rid of the ashes. Whew! What a lot of bother for some worthless and God-forsaken ashes!

“I don’t see why we use them, really. After all, we all know we’re going to die, and our bodies will turn to something like ashes—we know that already, and we aren’t afraid of that; at least I’m not. I’m just afraid of the traffic on Highway 22. Those cars zip by so fast, and so many of the people talk on their cell phones. You could easily get killed out there. I don’t need the ashes to remind me of death so long as I drive on 22.

“But what I’m not sure of is that part about living after death. That’s always been the thing that has been hard for me. I know that Jesus rose from the dead—I don’t have any problem with that, after all Jesus was God; and if he were alive today he would tell us so and a lot more, too.

“I don’t see why he had to die first before he rose from the dead. After all, couldn’t he have been this glorious and well-liked person—a sort of Man of the Year except he would be a Man of the Centuries—who just lived forever and was still with us to show us the right way and to tell the politicians what they ought to do rather than what they do? Couldn’t he have done that?

“And if he didn’t have to die, I don’t see why I have to take on these ashes and try to put away some sins with God’s help. Can’t God just save me the way I am? Why do I have to be better and be what God wants me to be? What does that have to do with anything? I’m good enough to be saved just as I am. I helped out when they needed it down at the church. And I used to visit old Mr. Johnson when he was so sick and so bitter. I made my pledge, too. Isn’t that enough? Why do I have to put on these ashes? And trudge through Lent like so much slush as though it were a special season?

“I’ll put them on, though. Wouldn’t be Ash Wednesday without them. Maybe in time I’ll understand those things I don’t understand now.”

Whoever has that voice, and all the rest of us, too, need all the help we can get.

In Christ’s Name. Amen.

The Last Sunday in Epiphany: Can you see it?

The Venerable Richard I. Cluett
February 26, 2006
2Kings 2:1-12; 2Corinthians 4:3-6; Mark 9:2-9

Mark tells us that Jesus “was transfigured before them and his clothes became dazzling white.” Luke tells us that “the appearance of his face changed and his clothes became dazzling white.” Matthew tells us that “he was transfigured before them, and his face shown like the sun, and his clothes became dazzling white.”

In another place we read that when Moses descended from Sinai after his time in God’s presence, he is significantly altered in his physical features. The face of Moses is transformed; “the skin of his face shone”.

As suddenly as the cloud had descended, it is gone, and “Jesus was found alone”. If anything could testify to the power and majesty of the epiphany they had just experienced, it is the absolute silence that now descends on the usually bantering, chatting, arguing disciples.

Utterly dazed and dazzled by the images they have witnessed, totally confused about the relationship between Jesus’ words about suffering and death and the heavenly voice’s assertion that “this is my Son,” And lest they simply prattle on about the experience, Jesus tells them to be silent.

But you can picture their faces. Amazement. Shining, bright, engaged, aglow, alive with a light. Having been in the presence of the Holy, knowing that they were in the presence of the Holy, things had changed for them and it had to be reflected in their faces.

I remember a time in the past when it was very early in my time as rector. I was still trying to learn who we were in that place. What’s life like here? What are people like here? What’s the kingdom like here? What do we experience of God here here?

After a long period of increasingly severe headaches, the mother in a family was diagnosed to have a brain tumor. An operation was attempted. It was not a success. There would be no medical success.

As the doctors tried other therapies, the shape of this trim, lively woman changed. Mega-doses of steroids do that, you know. Her body became swollen. Her face became swollen. The skin tightened. Her face literally began to shine.

A physical symptom - but it became a sacrament. Remember the definition of sacrament : an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace. Her face shown!

Eventually she lost the ability to word things – to match words with her thoughts – but this woman never lost the ability to communicate. Her eyes still shone with love, with gratitude, with security, her face shown because she was in the presence of the Living God.

As the family was able to be even less a part of the parish community in terms of being present at liturgies and gatherings, they became more and more a part of this community of faith as individuals, groups, families, committees ministered to that family. In much the same way as Lynn Heiney and Sandy Kelly and others of you carry out your Share Care ministries It was the most incredible ministry of presence, pastoral care, witness and proclamation of faith and love and solidarity.

As this woman and her family lived, and at the same time prepared for her death, Jesus himself was with them nursing, caring, comforting, carrying, cooking, and quietly, by both actions and words, testifying to the faith that was in them – that Jesus is Lord of life and of death – that God is present in all, and that all will be well, even if it doesn’t feel like it now.

When you walked into her presence, she ministered to you because you felt as if you had stepped on holy ground. When she looked at you she was radiant. Her face would break into a beatific smile. As you saw her face shine, you knew that God was present. The Glory of God’s Kingdom was being revealed.

I believe that it is God’s intention- that it is the desire of God’s heart - for each person, all persons, every person to live in God’s presence and for our faces to shine with the light of that presence. It is not meant to be a sometime, hardly ever, or never kind of experience. In the end-time, when God brings it all together and wraps it all up, I believe that is the way we will be. God’s Glory – and ours – fully revealed – face to shining face.

It is a privilege to be nearby when it happens in our own day and time. God means it to happen in our own day and time. Can we see it?

We live in the presence of the holy. On the mountain, on the plain, down in the valleys, our feet are always on holy ground. The world is a holy place. God is powerfully, mysteriously, gracefully present revealing His world and His Glory – and ours – to us.

Pray with me.
O God, who before the passion of your only-begotten Son revealed his glory upon the holy mountain: Grant to us that we, beholding by faith the light of his countenance, may be strengthened to bear our cross, and be changed into his likeness from glory to glory; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

The Seventh Sunday of Epiphany

The Venerable Howard Stringfellow
February 19, 2006
Isaiah 43:18-25; Psalm 41; 2 Corinthians 1:18-22; Saint Mark 2:1-12

In the Name of the True and Living God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

If your comfort in seeing me here equals my joy in being here, all is well. Once again, I am delighted to be with you, and I give thanks for the opportunity. The parishioners and the staff of this Cathedral Church have meant and do mean a great deal to me. I am grateful to you.

“And the LORD said, ‘You may very well cut yourself off from me, but I shall never cut myself off from you.’” Forgive me for giving you my version of the Old Testament Lesson so succinctly: “You may very will cut yourself off from me, but I shall never cut myself off from you.”

Some families have members who are cut-offs: people who, when they don’t get their way, just cut off members of their family: the cold shoulder and worse: no more communication; no more exchange of anything, really; and no more relationship. And in the form of this Lesson, God intrudes upon my quiet to say that we may cut ourselves off from God, but God will not do that to us.

We should understand that God means this and means for us to go and do likewise: no cut-offs—no refusing of any opportunity to take part in reconciling the world to God. The four fellows do this in the Gospel. They bring their paralytic friend to Jesus, and, without knowing it, they are reconciling that friend to God. They literally bring him to Jesus, and Jesus forgives the man his sins, and Jesus heals him who walks home under his own power. And that paralytic, forgiven and restored to the fullness of health, is reconciled to God.

We are to go and to do likewise. We Christians have a mission to do our part in reconciling the world to God. This is God’s goal and purpose. It’s what we pray for when we pray, “Thy kingdom come, thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.” Christ’s work of reconciliation is what all Jesus’ preaching, teaching, and healing are all about: to dramatize the nature of the kingdom of God, and to call people to the choice of joining. Through revelation, through prophecy, through the Scriptures, and especially through the life, ministry, death, and resurrection of Jesus, we have been given the vision of the kingdom of God, and our lives are to be spent fleshing that vision out so that it becomes reality.

“Thy kingdom come.” We have to be at least a little bit careful with what we pray for. What if we get it? What if that kingdom isn’t what we expect it to be? What if that woman who broke in line at the Dunkin’ Donuts is there? Or that man who told you your answer or your service or your idea wasn’t good enough—what if he is there? We may have to face the fact that Jesus died and rose again for them, too. And we’re called to bring those very irksome and very disagreeable people to him for forgiveness and restoration to the fullness of health.

As we bring people to Jesus we have to expect to become nearer to him ourselves. We have to expect that what we are and what we have may need some adjusting. We may need to be a little more like him than our appetites and sinful natures alone make us. We may need his grace to be his instruments, and we may need it, as I certainly do, in fairly large amounts if we are to bring people to him.

“Thy kingdom come.” I hope that this doesn’t sound new. At least since 1835 members of the Episcopal Church have considered themselves missionaries, for then we named our church the “Domestic and Foreign Missionary Society.” And more recently, the General Convention in 1997 reaffirmed that each and every member of the Episcopal Church is a missionary.

We are here to do our part in reconciling the world to God. Whether we understand that imperative to be our free response to the Great Commission or to the Great Commandment, we are united in one call from God to do our part to reconcile the world to God.

The World Mission Committee and our Bishop have kept our mission steadily before our eyes. Opportunity after opportunity has been extended to us to do our part to reconcile the world to God. Those opportunities will not cease; they will continue for as long as our very human need for God makes itself known and for as long as God gives us strength. I don’t think we need to have any doubt about the gift of God’s strength: “You may very well cut yourself off from me, but I shall never cut myself off from you.” The strength we need will be given to us.

In Christ, we heard in the Epistle, the word is always Yes. All the promises of God find their Yes in Jesus Christ. The healing of the paralytic, a healing which includes the forgiveness of sins and the strength to walk, opens the kingdom to us, a kingdom where God reigns and where God’s justice and God’s mercy are the order of the day. That kingdom is our inheritance; but it is ours for a purpose: to be given away—to be given to those whom God calls to be his and to be his forever.

In Christ’s Name. Amen.

The Seventh Sunday in Epiphany: Living a life of Forgiveness

The Rev. Canon Anne E. Kitch
Preached at Trinity Church, Bethlehem
February 19, 2006
Mark 2:1-12

Living a life of Forgiveness

It begins with upheaval. Perhaps forgiveness is always like that, and healing too. Perhaps they are processes that cannot begin without an upheaval, a disruption in the status quo, or an undoing of what seems right and proper. In this case, it begins with the roof caving in: literally.

Jesus had been out and about, doing the savior/Son of God thing. You know, your basic healings, exorcisms, preaching tour. But then he returns home and word gets out that wonder boy is back in town. A crowd gathers, so that there is not room for one more person. There is not even standing room left in front of the house. I wonder what they were all there for? We are told that Jesus was speaking the word to them. But is that why they came? Some of them may have been seekers, looking for a rabbi or a spiritual uplift. I suspect some of them came with their hurts because they had heard he was a great healer. But surely some of them were there just because they were curious and some because they wanted to be where the action was, they wanted to be close to the miracle worker. So there they all are, the teacher, the crowds, the noise, and then some people come carrying a paralyzed man.

They can’t get anywhere near Jesus, but clearly that is what they want to do. They are very determined, these friends. So they climb up onto the roof, manage to dig their way through clay and thatch, and lower the mat on which the paralytic lay. Just think about this: this is no small feat and it takes more than a moment to accomplish. Jesus is talking, with people sitting all around him when debris starts falling followed by commotion and confusion. Surely shouts of protest, what do you think you are doing? And with a great upheaval the paralyzed man lies before Jesus. Jesus stops speaking. He looks at the four friends and sees the faith that led them to such an extreme effort to get their friend into his presence. He says to the man, “Son, your sins are forgiven.”

I imagine a moment of stunned silence. Who said anything about seeking forgiveness? Surely what the friends want, what the man wants, is clear. They want healing. Why else would they go to such an extreme and ridiculous measure to get their friend to Jesus? Forgiveness? What is there to forgive? Clearly this man has done Jesus no wrong. He may be a limited human being, and thus sinful, but who is this Jesus to forgive all of this man’s sins? If you hurt me, I can forgive you. But is it for me to forgive you if you hurt your friend or your child or your neighbor? In the silence, some of the same questions arise in the hearts of the folks sitting there around Jesus. What did he say? Why is he saying that? What does this mean? Forgive sins? Why only God can do that! Who does he think he is! Into the silence Jesus speaks, “Why do you raise such questions in your hearts? Which is easier? To say to the paralytic your sins are forgiven or to say stand up and take your mat and walk?

Well now there’s a question. Because the fact is, they are both easy to say. Anyone could say them.* But making them true? That would be a miracle. And here’s the point. How do those bystanders know that the man’s sins have been forgiven? They don’t--either they believe Jesus or they don’t. But if a paralyzed man stands up and walks, that healing is pretty easy to authenticate. If Jesus can perform this miracle of healing, he must also be right about the forgiveness. So, Jesus says, “Well, just so you know that the Son of Man has the authority on earth to forgive sins, “ he turns to the paralytic, “I say to you stand, uptake your mat, and go home.” The man stands up, takes his mat and walks out in front of them all, healed and forgiven.

Healed and forgiven. Or in this case, forgiven, then healed. Which is the greater miracle? And when it comes to forgiveness, is the miracle that the incarnate God can forgive our sins or that the forgiveness is made real? Jesus didn’t say, “I forgive you.” He said, “Your sins are forgiven.” And in calling the man to rise and walk, Jesus made the possibility of forgiveness real. I think perhaps the real miracle for us would be accepting God’s forgiveness that is already at work.

It’s a good thing that forgiveness is God’s job, because I don’t really believe we are very good at it. When have you really forgiven someone so that you no longer remember their transgression? How good are you at receiving forgiveness? The forgiveness we practice with one another (and perhaps even with God) takes many forms. Here is a few I could think of. There are the times we refuse to forgive, holding on to the hurt and clutching it as if it were a life raft (although this doesn’t save us at all). Writer Anne Lamott says that refusing to forgive is like drinking rat poison and expecting the rat to die.** Then there are times when we seem to hang out in some kind of forgiveness limbo, not actively refusing to forgive but not able to get past the hurt. And there are times when forgives seems to creep up on us. It comes with time; one day we suddenly notice it is there. And there are times when dramatic upheaval breaks open our hearts and the forgiveness just pours in, over, and out of us.

I don’t know how to make this happen. As I said, I am grateful that forgiveness is God’s business, because I am not very good at it. Thank God, God is. God’s forgiveness is real. God’s forgiveness is there, offered for us. But in order for it to work in our lives, in order for us to get up and walk after the paralyzing effects of sin, we need to accept the forgiveness. We need to know it is real. Closed hands and hearts not only can’t offer forgiveness, they can’t accept forgiveness either.

Thousands of years ago, the prophet Isaiah proclaimed this truth about God. “I, I am He. I am the one who blots out your transgressions, for my own sake and I will not remember your sins.” (Isaiah 43:25) God cannot not forgive. For God’s own sake, God forgives us. God’s forgiveness is always active. It is not a matter of whether we deserve it; it is a matter of a relationship forged out of love. God loved us into being and for the sake of that love God forgives. Whether we walk in God’s love or are crippled by guilt is a matter of our own action.

Choosing to engage in a life of forgiveness, a life when we acknowledge both our need to forgive and our need to be forgiven, often begins with upheaval or a disruption in the status quo or an undoing of what seems right and proper. A life of forgiveness, given and received, is often accompanied by falling debris as we dig through the obstacles that keep us from Christ. A life of forgiveness, given and received, begins with and encounter with God and God’s love made real. Sometimes it begins with friends who are willing to get us there. Sometimes we are called to be those friends who stop at nothing to make Gods’ love known. A life of forgiveness, given and received is what we are called to as Christians. Open your hands and your hearts and allow God’s forgiveness to pour in to you, over you and flow out of you.

* Gretchen Pritchard, A Note to Parents, The Sunday Paper Junior, Year B 7th Sunday after Epiphany, The Sunday Paper, New Haven CT, 1999.

**Anne Lamott, Traveling Mercies: Some Thoughts on Faith, Pantheon Books, NY 1999, p. 134

The Sixth Sunday in Epiphany: Keep it Simple

The Rev. Canon Anne E. Kitch
February 12, 2006
2 Kings 5:1-14

This is one fabulous story, the story of Naaman. It has plot twists, warriors and kings, national pride and a miracle cure. To get the most out of this story, it helps to know the background. It takes place about 850 BCE and involves several different nations. First there are the people of Aram, the Arameans, whose kingdom lies northeast of Israel. Their capital city is Damascus and they are part of the Syrian empire. It helps to know that Syria was Israel’s’ major enemy. But there was an enemy even closer to home because at this time the Hebrew people were divided into two kingdoms: Israel and Judah, the North and the South. After the death of King Solomon, they got into an argument about who should rule; that civil war lasted for more than 200 years, until they each were eventually destroyed by other empires (that’s a story for another sermon).

At any rate, since the people of Israel and Judah were fighting amongst themselves it provided plenty of opportunity for neighboring kingdoms to get into the fray. So Syria and Israel fought each other, then had periods of relative peace, and then fought some more. At the time of this story they were more or less at peace.

Now for the main character, Naaman. He is a great Syrian general who brought victory to the King of Aram. He was well rewarded for his military prowess, both in wealth and status. The only trouble is, he does not have his health. He suffers from some skin disease (it says leprosy in the text, but that term was used for many different skin conditions). Now it turns out that there is a young girl who is a servant in Naaman’s house. As a matter of fact she is a slave, an Israelite slave. She was captured in one of those skirmishes between Israel and Syria and now has to work in Naaman’s house. But she knows something. She tells Naaman’s wife about a great prophet who lives in Samaria; he could certainly heal the general. Well Naaman’s wife tells Naaman, and Naaman tells his king and his king says well by all means go to Israel and seek this prophet. In fact, I’ll send a letter of introduction to the King of Israel.

So Naaman sets off to see the king of Israel with letter in hand and a huge gift as well: silver, gold and garments worth about a million dollars. Now imagine you are the King of Israel. Here comes a celebrated general from the neighboring hostile country, one with which you have a very shaky peace agreement, and he is bringing you a ton of cash and a letter that reads, “When this letter reaches you, know that I have sent to you my servant Naaman that you may cure him of his leprosy,” warmest regards, the King of Aram. The King of Israel is not pleased. He is in fact scared. “How am I supposed to cure this man, it is impossible! The King of Aram wants to pick a fight with me; if I can’t do this thing, he will say I snubbed him and send in his army to kill us!”

Now enter the story’s hero, the prophet Elisha, the one of great power of whom that young girl spoke. He sends his messenger to the king of Israel saying, “Don’t get all worked up about this. Just send that general to me; I’ll show him what a prophet of Israel can do!” I am sure the King of Israel was relieved (by the way, it is interesting to note that the king and Elisha did not always see eye to eye about things; in fact Elisha led a faction that was critical of the King. Never a dull moments in these stories!) So off the great general Naaman goes with his horses and chariots and tribute to see the great prophet Elisha. He halts at Elisha’s door. Elisha sends a messenger to the door, “My master says you should go and wash in the Jordon seven times and you will be well.” The door closes.

I imagine that for a brief moment, Naaman, still standing in his chariot in all his finery, is speechless. Then he gets really angry. What kind of affront is this? He storms off raging, “I thought for me he would surely come out and he would stand here and call on the name of his God, waive his hand over the spot and cure the leprosy. What’s this sending his messenger stuff about? Where’s the great prophet? Where is the show of power? Where is my miracle? And wash in the Jordon, that muddy trickle? No thank you! Why, if a river was needed, why not a great river of Damascus like the Abana or the Pharpar? They’re better than all the waters in Israel, little desert kingdom that it is!” He gathers up his horses and chariots and tribute and makes ready to leave Elisha and his Jordon river in the dust; except that his servants dare to approach him. “Sir, just think for a minute. If the prophet had commanded you to do something difficult, you would have done it, right? So how much easier to do this thing when all he said to you was, ‘Wash and be made clean?’ ” Well, they had him there. I imagine him speechless for a second time. Then he just goes and does it. He immerses himself in the Jordan seven times and is made clean.

It’s a great story. The thing about truly great stories is they are so multidimensional, layers upon layers of meaning. This is why Jesus told so many stories as a teacher. We often try to make his stories seem simple and straight forward, but they are not. So what do we make of this great story? What do you take home with you? I have more than one thought about that, so here are some ideas. You choose what cathes your attention this morning.

First idea: Naaman thought a miracle of healing needed to be complicated. It wasn’t. Sometimes we make things much more complicated than they need to be. Which is easier, to take the simple cure trusting a word or to do the heroic deed and pay the big sum? How much value do we place on things that cost more, in either money, energy, or time? When do we miss opportunities for healing because they seem too easy?

Next thought: Naaman was incensed when Elisha didn’t come to him personally. You can almost here him say, “Doesn’t he know who I am?” Well, chances are Elisha knew exactly who he was: a human being beloved of God. When do we let our need for status mask who we really are?

Third thought: the voices of healing and reason in this story--a young girl who must work in the home of her captors and has no reason to love or offer help to Naaman, and the general’s servants who risk their master’s anger. Why is it the powerless in this story know where to find the true healing power?

Final thought? I leave that up to you. Where will this story take you during the next week? But here is the epilogue. As a result of his healing, Naaman becomes faithful to God. But he still doesn’t know how to keep things simple. He returns to Elisha and twice tries to offer him a huge reward. Elisha refuses. So then Naaman asks for two cartloads of dirt, so he may take it home to Damascus and pray to the one God standing on Israelite soil. So one final thought: even when people receive healing, not everything changes.

The Fifth Sunday of Epiphany: Who do you say that you are?

The Venerable Richard I. Cluett
Isaiah 40:21-31; 1Cor. 9:16-13; Mark 1:29-39
February 5, 2006

This season of Epiphany - which might also be called the season of Revelation - recalls the revealing of the true identity of Jesus to the world.

In the lesson from Isaiah we hear the prophet identify on behalf of God just who the Lord God is:
“The LORD is the everlasting God,
the Creator of the ends of the earth.
He does not faint or grow weary;
his understanding is unsearchable.
He gives power to the faint,
and strengthens the powerless.”

In this morning’s gospel, Jesus restates for himself, his family, his disciples and us, just what his identity is, what his ministry is. “Let us go on to the neighboring towns s that I can proclaim the message there also, for that is what I came out to do.”

We are reading Paul's letter to the Corinthians, too. Paul is living out his identity, his faith, his ministry in the midst of all the human concerns which distract the world. At his core he is a disciple of Jesus Christ and an evangelist. He is willing to intentionally take on the various identities, the various images, of the world in order to convert the world. “I have become all things to all people, that I might by all things save some. I do it all for the sake of the gospel, so that I may share its blessing.”

These are the concerns I want to probe a bit this morning: who we are and what are the conse¬quences of our identity as children of God and disciples of Jesus.

Today, for many of us, our culture and the media that manufacture it are working to distract us from our identity as children of God and disciples of Jesus - to such a degree that when others look at us they cannot quite tell who it is that we are at our core. We have so many conflicting images that we can present to the world - and to ourselves, too.

Jesus is concerned that we live with integrity. That if we say we have faith, we live as if we have faith, and that as others look at us they can see evidence of the power and effect of that faith in our lives.

There are today so many places, forces, and powers which seek to have us identify ourselves through them. Here are some examples.

We human beings have come to identify ourselves by our things. What we fashion with our minds and imagi¬nations, and then make with our hands, have become the models by which we seek to know ourselves. When my boys were young, it was Knightrider and his Pontiac Firebird - that black, magical, mystical, marvel of a machine. For those of us males a bit older it may be Paul Newman and a Porshe. Different images, but based on the same thing. We all have different images of ourselves, but there's a car for each of us, to give us our identity be it SUV or Corvette.

When you are introduced to a person, you are not usually asked, "Who are you?" You are asked, "What do you do?" What we do has become who we are. And if we happen to be unemployed or retired, that reduces us, in the eyes of the world, to "a used to be" If we are fortunate enough to be employed, we have become a function.

Whether a teacher, a salesperson, mechanic, technician, or business person, or a "keeper-of-the-home-hearth" – our occupation is always less than who we are. But our technical, pragmatic, functional culture is comparing, measuring and evaluating us from the image of our function. We are seen as a function, given our worth in our function, are identified as a function. And that is a false, and a graven image.

Another place we receive identity is Other People. We find our identity by looking to other people and emulating them; our parents, our friends, our therapists, our neighbors, and actors and players on the video and silver screens.

It is not uncommon for children to pattern their behavior, values, and work after a parent. It is also common for children to have iden¬tified ways they do not want to be like their parents; in other words they have, at least in their perceptions, clear views of parental inadequacy. And looking at my life and experience as a person and as a parent, there is some validity to the perception of my children as to my not being quite up to the standards they held for me in their early days. Which is, I believe what God intends. No one of us was created to be a clone of our parents.

What often happens, though, is that young people then look to other people for their models: teachers, scout leaders, sports figures, TV personalities, stars, heroes and, musicians and their peers, to name but a few of the possibilities.

These others inform about what clothes to wear; how to cut, brush, tease, iron or mousse one's hair; what deodorant to use; how many earrings to wear where; what brand of jeans or sneakers to buy, and what cars to crave. And, if they are retired athletes, they tell us all what kind of beer to drink.

But, again a problem. No person is an adequate model for our identity, other than ourselves - with one exception.
Jesus is the image. In him, we find our true identity. In him, we discover the truth about ourselves. In him, we see whose image we have. What is God like? What are we to be like? We look to Jesus to see. God is our creator. God is the One who saves and sustains, who guides, who nourishes; who has meaning and purpose for us, who gives us our identity. And we worship that God who shows us himself and ourselves in Jesus.

The question for us is not whether we worship, but who is worshipping whom? The issue is not whether or not we have a spirituality; rather it is, what is our spirituality? Where do we find our identity? In whom do we find our identity?

You and I have come here, to this sanctuary. We put ourselves in physical, spiritu¬al, psychological, and emotional postures of worship so that we can catch something of the Spirit of the Living God – Who would have us renew our strength, mount up with wings like eagles, run and not be weary, walk and not faint -- so that we can become more like the God in whose image we have uniquely been created . And then we go from here to serve this God and God’s people in the world.

Let me tell you a story to highlight this. A teacher story. A teacher, after a particularly difficult lesson, gave her ninth grade students an assignment. She told them to list all the members of the class on a sheet of paper leaving space between each name. In that space they were to write what they believed was the nicest thing about that person. At the end of the class she col¬lected the papers and took them home with her. She spent the week¬end collating and on Monday morning gave each student a list of all the things that his or her classmate had written about them. You can imagine the responses and the feelings of surprise, joy, and affirmation.

Years later, one of the students was killed in the Gulf War. The whole town came out for the funeral. The teacher and a number of members of that ninth grade class also attended the funeral. After the service, the father of the young man came up to the teacher. “We want to show you something. They found this on Mark when he was killed. We thought you might recognize it.” The father took from his pocket two worn pieces of paper that had been folded, unfolded, and refolded countless times. It was the list of all the good things his classmates had written about him. His mother said, “Thank you so much for doing that. He treasured it.”

Some of his former classmates gathered around, One said, “I still have my list, its in the top drawer of my desk.” Another, “Mine’s in my wedding album.” Another, “Mine is in my diary.” Another pulled hers out of her wallet and showed a worn, frayed list to the group. “I think we all saved our lists. I carry this with me at all times. It reminds me who I am and who I need to become.”

Unless we bear the image, unles we are true to our God-given identity, how will the world ever know the wonderful truth about what God did in Jesus Christ and is doing in each of us?

Amen.

The Fourth Sunday of Epiphany: What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth?

The Venerable Richard I. Cluett
Deuteronomy 18:15-20; 1Cor. 8:1-13; Mark 1:21-28
January 29, 2006

What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? … Jesus rebuked him saying, “Be silent, and come out of him!” And the unclean spirit, convulsing and crying with a loud voice, came out of him.

What a powerful way to begin a ministry. What a powerful way to let the world know, and let all the powers of the world know that things are different now. There is a new order, a new way of life, a new power for good, coming into the world. Unclean spirits beware!

And the world’s never been the same since. Or has it? Does your experience, does your observation, tell you that the power of God has completed the establishment of this new rule, this new order, this kingdom, Has the power of God completely overcome the evil powers, the unclean spirits of this world? What’s the phrase? “In your dreams!”

This divine new order inaugurated in the life and ministry of Jesus and demonstrated that day in Capernaum, that small town by the Sea of Galilee, is exemplified by, is characterized by, is defined by spiritual transformation, a liberation that touches every dimension of human existence. Healing, empowering, exorcising, befriending; bringing those the world considers the least, the last and the lost, bringing the oppressed, the disenfranchised, and the outcasts back into the light and the life and community for which God created them. Using the power of God's love to heal and reconcile, save and forgive, restore and renew.

The people in Capernaum didn’t know that as part of their daily world, and people today don’t experience it either as part of our daily world. No wonder they were amazed. No wonder we are amazed when we catch of glimpse of it here and there in our lives or in the news.

Do you know the phrase? “Leading lives of quiet desperation.” No one here today should be fooled by the relative comfort and ease of lives that look economically secure, but may be emotionally fragile or relationally fractured. Living on the edge used to be a phrase applied to those on the edge of society. Now it includes those who live on the edge of bankruptcy, on the edge of stability, on the edge of sanity, on the edge of isolation.

Dreams, values, structures, systems don't seem to be handling it anymore. There's a sense of being out of control – spending, emotions, lives, the world. People are nervous about their lives, their futures, the very world itself.

In our own society, it is clear that we live in a culture that seeks fulfillment, satisfaction, and meaning in pursuit, acquisition and consumption. The values reflected in our society are foreign to what Jesus brought as Kingdom values. More and more the media both defines and reflects the culture. Music, novels, film, TV and newspapers deal primarily with cultural trinity of power, money and sex.

We live in an age that aspires to the Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous. People seek fulfillment in the allures, the attractions, the powerful seductions, the comfort and the ease, and the glitz of this present world - what the novelist Susan Howatch has termed the "glittering images, glamorous powers and ultimate prizes" offered by this present age. Doomed attempts to brighten dark lives.

We used to have a bumper sticker in the Lehigh Valley. I've Got Mine! It was given out by a bank to people who could afford a certain denomination of Certificate of Deposit. The corollary is, “I don’t care if you get yours, just don’t get in the way of me getting mine.” There is a confusion of needs and wants that has created a culture that is less interested in making a living than in making a killing.

This is precisely the situation that Paul was addressing with the people in Corinth. It’s not enough that we take care of ourselves. Our faith, our discipleship, God’s presence, God’s kingdom, God’s order is to be lived out in a relationship where we are cognizant of, attentive to, and responsive to the needs and situations of the rest of the people in the community.

It has been said that the most important thing for the Church is not great preaching (this gives me great comfort), or programs or prophecy. Very simply, it is for the members of the church to live together and love one an¬other and offer their love and life for the world … to offer a living, loving community which offers the people of the world an alternative. The kingdom Jesus brought.

The love and care and justice and security we want in the world must first be incarnate here in each one of us and in our community of faith, this parish, just as they were first incar¬nate in the person of Jesus of Nazareth.

Christian community is not built by focusing on community. It is a by-product of people loving people. People who worship together, work together, pray together, study together, share themselves with each other … these people will come to love one another; and the kingdom of God will be present in that place, in this world.

Archbishop Desmond Tutu preached a sermon at St George’s Cathedral in Capetown, South Africa on Sunday April 24, 1994 the eve of the vote ending apartheid. He said,

“We are all wounded people, traumatized, all of us, by the evil of apartheid. We all need healing and we, the Church of God, must pour balm on the wounds inflicted by this evil system. Let us be channels of love, of peace, of justice, of reconciliation.
“Let us declare that we have been made for togetherness, we have been made for family, that, yes, now we are free, all of us, black and white together, we, the rainbow people of God! And let us make a success of this democracy. And we are! We are going to make it. For we have a tremendous country, with tremendous people. Our God, who makes all things new, will make us a new people, a new united people in a new South Africa."

And the unclean spirits are coming out -- with cries and convulsing but coming out nevertheless. And the people are amazed.

How do we live in the kingdom of God now? How do we faithfully follow the lead and example of Jesus? How do we witness to and exercise the power of the love of Christ today? There's only one way. We love our way into the hearts of others — and, thereby, into the heart of God. And the world will never be the same.

The Third Sunday in Epiphany: For God alone my soul in silence waits

The Rev. Canon Anne E. Kitch
January 22, 2006
Jonah 3:1-5, 10Psalm 62:6-14Mark 1:14-20

For God alone my soul in silence waits


So. The word of the Lord came to Jonah a second time….What do you suppose happened the first time?

You probably do know, because it’s the part of the Jonah story that includes the whale. Jonah was a prophet of the Lord. That means he listened for God’s word and proclaimed it to the people. So it was no surprise when God gave Jonah an assignment to tell some people to mend their evil ways. However, it was quite a surprise to Jonah when God told him to go Nineveh, and not a pleasant surprise. Nineveh was the capital of Assyria, an d the Assyrians were the enemies of Israel. As far as Jonah was concerned, Nineveh was the heart of the evil empire. God commanded Jonah to go to Nineveh and tell them to shape up and repent of their evil ways or else God was going to destroy them. Of course the Ninevites, being Assyrians and all, didn’t know Yahweh. They had other gods they paid attention to. So being a sensible prophet from a small town who had no diplomatic standing, much less any know-how, Jonah books passage on a ship heading for Tarshish--in the exact opposite direction. He flees from the presence of the Lord.

Of course that worked out really well for him. He gets on the boat, heads down to take a nap and God hurls a violent storm at the ship so that the ship threatens to break up. The sailors are terrified and start praying to any god they can think of. They didn’t know Yahweh either. They wake Jonah up and tell him to pray to his god as well. The storm does not abate and being superstitious folks, as sailors are wont to be, they cast lots to see who brought this storm on. Of course the lot falls to Jonah.

Jonah has to admit that he worships the LORD GOD whom he has been trying to flee. He tells the sailors the only remedy is to throw him overboard. To give the sailors credit they are quite reluctant to do so. They row harder trying to get back to shore, but the violence of the storm increases. So they finally pray to the LORD GOD not to hold them responsible for Jonah’s blood and they throw him overboard.

The storm immediately stops. The sailors become instant believers in the LORD GOD. Jonah goes under and the waters close over him. But God sends a large fish to swallow him up and Jonah was in the belly of the fish for three days. Three days. I suppose Jonah had some time to think. After three days he prays to God saying, “I called to the Lord out of my distress, and he answered me.” If not before his sea change, then certainly now Jonah knows where salvation lies. It is in the hands of God alone. “I called to the Lord out of my distress and he answered me.” Sounds a bit like a psalm. Sounds like the psalm we prayed this morning:
For God alone my soul in silence waits….

Parker Palmer, a well known teacher, writer and speaker on spirituality says that the soul is like a wild animal: tough, resourceful and resilient, but also shy. If you go into the forest to see a wild creature you are not going to find it by marching about and shouting. It will not appear on demand. If you want the wild creatures to come out, you need to be quiet and still and patient.* If we want to connect with our souls, we need to be still and quiet and gentle with them. I believe we need to connect with our souls in order to hear and respond to God’s call for us.

For God alone my soul in silence waits.

It is in the belly of the whale that Jonah finds silence--and his soul. He repents: he places his trust in God, again, and God has the whale spit Jonah out. And the word of the Lord came to Jonah a second time, saying, “Get up, go to Nineveh, that great city, and tell them what I told you to tell them!” This time Jonah goes. I expect Jonah is still not happy. Nothing has changed about Nineveh. It is still the capital of the evil empire. Jonah begins his three days walk crying out, “God is going to destroy Nineveh in forty days.” Now, imagine your self leaving this cathedral and walking west through Bethlehem and toward Allentown for three days straight telling people God was about to punish them for their evil deeds. You can imagine what kind of reception you would get. Well, that is what Jonah feared. Yet, amazingly, the people heed Gods’ call to them and repent. Every last one of them, even the king. God acts, by not destroying them.

You might think that Jonah would be pleased. Surly this was a wildly successful gig for a prophet. But Jonah is still unhappy. You’ll have to read the rest of the story yourself. The book of Jonah is in your bible and its not very long. Make sure you read the last chapter.

For God alone my Soul in silence waits.

One of the things I take from the Jonah story is that despite Jonah’s reluctance and downright disobedience, God’s will was still carried out. The people of Nineveh were given a chance to turn to the Lord and they did. Jonah was God’s prophet. And he blew it. Even when he did go to Nineveh, he wasn’t happy. But God’s hope for the people of Nineveh was fulfilled. God can work with what God gets. We don’t get just one chance to get it right. Jonah got a second chance to hear God and to act on God’s word.

For God alone my soul in silence waits,
truly, my hope is in him
He alone is my rock and my salvation…
God has spoken once, twice have I heard it.

Perhaps God speaks only once. But then God’s word reverberates through time and space, there waiting for us when we are ready to hear it…or to hear it again. How can we hear God’s call for us if we are not listening with our souls? How can we connect with our souls if we do not find the space to be quiet and patient? Or do we need to end up in the belly of a whale to hear God’s word?

For God alone my soul in silence waits…God has spoken once, twice have I heard it.

Jesus, the Word, comes along preaching the word of God, telling people to repent and believe in the good news. As he passes along the sea of Galilee he sees Simon and Andrew, James and John, fishermen about their daily business. He calls them to follow him and they do. I don’t know why. They were not prophets, trained to hear God. They were fishermen. We don’t even know if they were particularly religious. We know of no deliberation or internal dialogue on their parts. They don’t talk to their families or tell Jesus they need to sleep on it. They don’t head off looking for a ship to Tarshish. They just follow Jesus. They hear and respond to God’s call.

Why is it so simple for them? Why do they hear and respond the first time? Why do they need no second chance? I don’t know. I don’t know why they got it right off the bat and Jonah didn’t. But it does make me glad because it says there is more than one way to respond to God’s call. There is not one way to get it right. Sometimes following God’s call for us it comes easily, almost without thought. Sometimes it requires a storm to get our attention. Yet even when we are deaf or reluctant, God’s purpose is still carried out.

For God alone my soul in silence waits…God has spoken once, twice have I heard it.

All of which says to me, prepared or not, God calls us and there is no way to know how we will respond. Some days we will be like Jonah, some like Simon Peter. As our collect for today prays, “Give us grace, O Lord, to answer readily the call of our Savior Jesus Christ and proclaim to all people the good news of his salvation….” Regardless of our response, God is relentless in the call.

For God alone my soul in silence waits.

If you want to hear God’s call for you, find a quiet place in the woods… and wait patiently for your tenacious soul to show.


*Parker Palmer, A Hidden Wholeness, Jossey-Bass, San Francisco 2004, pp. 57-59

Copyright © 2006 Anne E. Kitch

The Second Sunday in Epiphany: Do you hear what I hear?

The Venerable Richard I. Cluett
1 Samuel 3:1-20); 1Cor. 6:12-20; John 1:43-51
January 15, 2006

How do you hear the voice of God in times such as these? In all the din, in all the noise, in all the busyness, in all the chaos, in all the competing voices that would claim our attention, how do you hear the voice of God in times such as these?

Or is the voice of God rare today as it was in the time of Eli? Have we as a people so distanced ourselves from God that there is no Word heard today. Have we as a church become so involved in our own petty personal pieties and politics that God’s Word cannot be heard?

Or if a word is heard, how do you know it is the voice of God? Pat Robertson hears God saying, “I have struck down Ariel Sharon because I am displeased with his leadership.” Robertson also heard God say, “I have caused the storm and the floods to wipe this Sodom and Gomorra called New Orleans off the face of the earth.” Was it the voice of God or did he listen to his own voice?

How do you know when it is God calling? There is no Caller ID here.

In John's Gospel it is so clear; it looks so natural. How easy it was for Nathanael to spot Jesus; to see Jesus; to find the Lord. Amidst the daily occupations of his life, Nathanael recognized Jesus when he came near without having seen any obvious signs of the presence of the Kingdom, without knowing the shape, form, nature, or name of the messiah. Why didn't he wonder if he was out of synch, if maybe he was the one who was wrong, and it really was the leaders, the Pharisees and the Saducees, who had the correct take on life and faith? How did he know it was the Lord when Jesus walked by, when Jesus came near?

There is, I have learned, an Emmy Award-Winning afternoon Soap Opera called One Life to Live which is set in a community modeled on the Philadelphia Main Line. The show is said to deal with real life situations, such as stories of interracial romance, split personalities, illiteracy, medical misdiagnosis, racial prejudice, lupus, gang violence, homophobia, rape -- and next week there will be “Oh so much more”!

What interests me is the name of the show, One Life to Live, and that the show is about what happens to people. The characters are victims, They are not actors, they are recipients of other’s actions, they are done unto. O Lord, I have only one life to live, what should I do with it?

My assumption is that each person in this cathedral today is seeking to listen, discern, and respond to a word God is speaking to each of us, personally. Wanting to know the heart, mind and will of God - personally - so that we can so conform our own hearts and minds and wills that what we do this day, that what we do in this life is pleasing to God.

Presiding Bishop Frank Griswold told members of the Episcopal Church's Executive Council meeting this week, “The Church is constantly in the process of becoming. Together we seek openness to this transforming work of the Spirit.” He quoted the French Jesuit scientist Pierre Teilhard de Chardin: “For us God is eternal discovery and eternal growth.”

Martin Luther King loved to tell his story. He didn't want to be a national civil rights leader. He had gone into the ministry mostly because his father was a pastor and he always did what Daddy King wanted him to do. Martin wanted a quite life as a professor, possibly President of Morehouse College someday.

Through an odd turn of events, as a young pastor he was thrust into the forefront of the Montgomery bus boycott. He came home late one night, tired, frightened. The phone rang. An angry voice on the other end said, "We're gonna get you Nigger!"
Martin Luther King stood in his kitchen, frozen in fear. He wanted to call Daddy King for reassurance and advice. But Daddy King wasn't there. Then he said it was like a voice. "Martin, you do what's right. You stand up for justice. You stand up for righteousness. I'll be with you."

He had heard his name called. He knew what God wanted for him. His life was forever changed and through his life, used so well by God, was the world changed.

Do you know the story of the baby lion whose family - called by that wonderful name Pride - of lions had been killed by hunters. He was by himself until one day a herd of goats came by and adopted him. He became a goat, lived as a goat, ate grass, and led a quiet goat-like life. But he knew he was different from the rest of the goats. He looked different, and he felt different, too. Something inside him told him he was different.

Then it happened. One day another lion; a large male lion came upon the grazing goats. All the goats were frightened and ran away - as good goats should - all except the lion-goat. He stood still, watching, waiting. Suddenly the large lion let out this incredible, powerful ROAR. The little lion's eyes flew open, and he knew he was being called. He knew who he was. And he followed the big lion home - and spent the rest of his life in more adventuresome pursuits.

Episcopal priest, writer and retreat leader Tom Ehrich has discerned four realizations about call:
“First,” he says, “God's call tends to be mundane and unsurprising.” Usually not cataclysmic, not flashes of lightening, not being slain in the Spirit, but in the everydayness of life, if we look and listen it is there - and it makes sense.

“Second,” he says, “God's call has grace in it. It heals a wound, answers a question, uses an experience, bridges a chasm.”
“Third, God's call is ambiguous.” If we don’t pay attention, we will miss it.

Fourth, “God's call changes things.”. I have said to you before that God loves us just the way we are, but God loves us too much to let us stay that way. So, God’s call does change things like situations, and conditions, but it also changes us in ways that we reflect more clearly and more truthfully that we are made in God’s image.

The voice of the Lord can be heard in the land - even by you and me who God knows so well and tailors his Word so carefully that it fits us precisely.

Psalm 139 is my favorite Psalm and its reassurance is a fitting and comforting ending.
1 Lord, you have searched me out and known me; *
you know my sitting down and my rising up;
you discern my thoughts from afar...
6 Where can I go then from your Spirit? *
where can I flee from your presence?
7 If I climb up to heaven, you are there; *
if I make the grave my bed, you are there also.
8 If I take the wings of the morning *
and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,
9 Even there your hand will lead me *
and your right hand hold me fast.

So, listen for this God who would have a word with us.
Amen.