The Passion of Jesus of Nazareth

 

SERMON

Monday – Holy Week

March  29, 2021

 

Jesus has arrived in Jerusalem. Triumphantly riding on the young colt provided by his disciples, Jesus has arrived at his destination. His intentional journey from rural Galilee to the bustling city of Jerusalem; home of God's Temple; site where he will be crucified. His journey is completed.

After the triumphal entry into Jerusalem, depending on which gospel you are reading, the unfolding of events that leads to Jesus' crucifixion on Good Friday differ in both date sequence and story content. But the point that Jesus is making in all four gospels, indeed in all of his teachings is clear. The Way – capitol "W" – is to be found by following Jesus. The Way is to be found by laying down self and taking up the cross. The cross, a metaphor, that represents an absolute commitment of self to God.

It is this point of total commitment to God that Jesus makes when in Luke he rebukes the money changers saying, "It is written, my house will be a house of prayer; but you have made it a den of robbers." (Luke 19:46)

Jesus is clear - his house – God's Temple - will be a house dedicated solely to the passionate worship of God and God alone; not a house in which those who have sinned come to offer monetary bribes in exchange for forgiveness, only to return to their sinful ways again and again. Not a house that worships the empire while proclaiming that it is worshipping God.

Marcus Borg in his book The Last Week, makes the point that the passion of Jesus is not simply about passion as taken from the Latin noun passio, meaning suffering. But it is also about the passion of Christ – his passion for the Kingdom of God. His passion to incarnate the justice of God. It was this passion for God's Kingdom that led to Jesus' passion, his passio – his suffering. It is the former passion - Jesus' passion for God's Kingdom that he is now asking us to take up. It is this passion that he is referring to when he commands, "Follow me."

As we walk with Jesus these few days of Holy Week, it is critical to see him as he was, Jesus of Nazareth, an impoverished Jew from the northern town of Galilee. A passionate young man who was the definitive definition of God in the world. God incarnate.

A passionate young man who asked, and is asking, his followers (you and me) to take up our crosses and to join him in the procession that entered Jerusalem, and to walk with him on his passionate journey to the cross. Jesus is asking that we join his procession and passionately commit to God, with no fear of the consequences.

The psalmist writes, "For with you is the well of life, and in your light we see light. Continue your loving-kindness to those who are true of heart. Let not the foot of the proud come near me, not the hand of the wicked push me aside." What beautifully poetic and passionate words that express the hopes and dreams of an ancient people who understood God to be a "Lord whose love reaches to the heavens." A people who yearned for the priceless love of God. A people who understood their well-being to be dependent on "taking refuge under the shadow of God's wings."

As we journey with Jesus of Nazareth this week, the pain and the sorrow we experience while hearing the passion week stories will sting our souls and render us deeply saddened. A sadness that, this year will be compounded by the past twelve months of suffering and pain experienced by so many of us; experienced by so many millions of people throughout the world; victims of the coronavirus, Covid 19. Many of us will mourn not only Jesus as he hangs on the cross; we will also mourn other significant losses of this past year. This is a painful time for us and for God.

But we cannot be on the journey without experiencing the pain – not if we are passionately on the journey - not if we have passionately joined the procession. But, in our pain we must also see the light. We must remember the words of the psalmist, "Your love, O Lord, reaches to the heavens…how priceless is your love, O God!...For with you is the well of life, and in your light we see light…Continue your loving-kindness to those who know you, and your favor to those who are true of heart."

Holy Week is only holy if it is a sacred journey based in our passionate commitment to God's Kingdom. Only if we enter into this sacred week passionately, with our whole heart and mind and soul, will we recognize the stark contrast of the pain and injustice inflicted by the empire on Good Friday, and the triumphal glory and power of the love offered by God's Kingdom on Easter Sunday.

"Your love, O Lord, reaches to the heavens. How priceless is your love, O God."

 

Coming together, once again

 

SERMON

March 7, 2021

 

"Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my strength and my redeemer." (Psalm 19, v 14)

 

As I began to write this sermon, I thought it would be interesting to have a quick look back to March 7, 2020. Just a short twelve months ago. A time that, at least in my mind, is a complete blur. Back then, what were we doing? What were the headlines of the day? What pre-occupied America?

On that day in 2020, the New York Times led with an article titled, "Spiraling Virus Fears Are Causing Financial Carnage." The Washington Post reported "Coronavirus continues its rapid spread, confounding efforts by global leaders." The Posts reporters went on to write, "Efforts to contain the coronavirus outbreak showed signs of faltering during the weekend, as Washington, D. C. confirmed its first case Saturday, and Italian leaders announced a plan early Sunday to lock down an entire region including Venice and Milan after reporting 1,000 new cases in 24 hours. The virus's exact reach remains unknown."

The virus's exact reach remains unknown… That I am sure you will agree was, and still is, a vast understatement. In the twelve months since that article appeared the deadly power of the coronavirus has proved catastrophic in the United States and throughout the globe. The impact of this still very present pandemic will not be known for many years – perhaps never. But, one thing cannot be disputed, its bewildering symptoms; its propensity to cause the rapid onset of life-threatening and far too frequently deadly symptoms; and its lingering and sometimes debilitating aftereffects have caused millions of lives to take dramatic turns in every direction. Dramatic turns in order to, quite literally, stay alive.

The church, not unlike all other institutions, has been deeply affected by the coronavirus. On Palm Sunday, April 5, 2020, just four weeks after the Washington Post reporters wrote "the virus's exact reach remains unknown" St. Simon's doors were closed for worship. Throughout Holy Week St. Simon's doors were closed. On Easter Sunday St. Simon's doors were closed. In fact, St. Simon's doors remained closed until, five months later, when on Saturday, September 5th both indoor and outdoor worship resumed.

During this time, Fr. David, Jennifer, and a host of others scrambled to learn alternative ways of offering worship. Initially, Facebook was our primary platform for live streaming Morning Prayer and a modified Sunday service. Then we added YouTube as a second platform. As the weeks passed our technological skills increased.

Initially, those of us who serve at the altar were brought to you as we sat at our kitchen tables or enjoyed the comfort of our outdoor patios. Slowly, we migrated back to the church – just the clergy and altar guild at first. Then, a little music was added; and then, one lector. Finally, on September 5th St. Simon's doors were opened. Our congregation resumed worship in the pews.

Throughout all of this, Fr. David, and I, along with clergy throughout the country spent many hours wondering how best to keep people engaged. How best to keep them in touch with God. How best to bring the Holy Spirit and the comfort of community into the midst of this tragic, terrifying, and isolating time.

As the blanket of fog imposed by the trauma of Covid 19 lifts and we slowly emerge into the world once again, many, if not all, of us are experiencing our lives and the world in ways never imagined. These new ways are the seeds of our future together. Seeds that require acknowledgement and attention.

In some cases, these seeds are new and amazing ways of experiencing God in the world and in our lives. These particular seeds I believe, if given the proper attention and care, can grow into what our Presiding Bishop, the Rt. Rev. Michael Curry, calls a true Jesus Movement. They can flourish and develop into refreshingly new and energized ways of discipleship - of bringing the light of Christ into the world.

So, what are these seeds you may ask. What are these new ways that people are experiencing God in the world? Well, here are a few direct quotes from folk at St. Simon’s:

“I now see so clearly that church is not about a building. It’s about being out in the world and bringing love to those who are alone and isolated.”

“I never understood the importance of our community, it’s about more than coffee hour gathering – it’s about worshipping together. In community. Praying together as a community is so important.”

I never heard the words of Scripture – not like I do now. Scripture has taken on a whole new meaning for me.”

These are but a few of the comments that I have heard, time and again, from so many of you. And each time I hear you express such a thought - express it with passion, with conviction - my heart takes a little leap of joy. “Yes,” I say to myself. “Yes,” the church is still alive and like a branch in the springtime, it is growing new buds and shoots. Buds and shoots that with attention and care will grow into healthy and most thrilling ways of being Christians in the world.

Today’s psalm reflects my thoughts on our coronavirus journey so beautifully. It is a celebratory psalm that is written in three distinctive sections. It begins by celebrating the universe that God has created. “The heavens declare the glory of God, and the firmament shows its handiwork…In the deep he has set a pavilion for the sun; it come forth like a bridegroom out of his chamber; it rejoices like a champion to run its course.”

So many of us, in this coronavirus isolation time have developed new ways of connecting with the magnificence of God’s creation. Walks in wooded areas and leisurely strolls on the beach; evenings spent on the porch or patio gazing at the sunset, the rising of the moon, the glimmering of the stars; participating in the St. Simon’s outdoor service along with the wildlife that comes and goes over the calm bay waters. In one way or another we have seen God reflected in the work of his glorious creation in new and life-giving ways. Through his Creation God has remained with us in our time of isolation.

The second portion of the psalm celebrates God’s law. “The statutes of the Lord are just and rejoice the heart; the commandment of the Lord is clear and gives light to the eyes.”

Many, if not most, of us are now listening to Scripture and prayers through ears newly attuned to hearing God’s love for the world and his desire for us to love the world as he loves us. God’s law – his commandments – heard anew, give light to the path that he has set for us. A path that leads to coming together in new ways not only in the building, but perhaps more importantly in the world. Through his Word God has remained with us in our time of isolation.

In the final section, the psalm moves its focus from God to us. It prompts us to enter into inward reflection and the admission that we are far from achieving the perfection that God has envisioned for us. We are far from having the strength or the courage to remain steadfast in our commitment to God and his way. “Above all, keep your servant from presumptuous sins; let them not get dominion over me; then shall I be whole and sound, and innocent of a great offense.”

This final section is an important reminder that our work at rebuilding a church community now and in the coming months will not be easy. The challenges are not for the feint at heart. The future, as has always been the case, is unknown; and, because we are human, we will make errors in judgement and action as we imagine and plan.

It is our very humanness that makes it so important to listen carefully to the last section of this psalm. “Above all keep your servant from presumptuous sins; let them not get dominion over me…,” says the psalmist. He warns us that without a self-reflective honesty that acknowledges and explores our vulnerability– our tendency to fall away from God’s path - without this honesty with self, we are at peril of failing to stay on God’s path.

Finally, the closing verse of our psalm says it all. It is an expression of our intent. It is our commitment to God to do our best as we go into the world following the light of his way and tending to the seeds that he has cast upon us to grow and to harvest.

"Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my strength and my redeemer." (Psalm 19, v 14)

I Love To Tell The Story

 

SERMON

Feb. 07, 2021 – Mark 1:29-39

 

“Come and hear, all ye that fear God, and I will declare what he hath done for my soul.” (psalm 66; v. 16)

 I love music. I was born into and brought up in a musical household; my late husband Devin played music – all sorts of music - continually. I believe at one point he had over 1500 songs stored on his computer’s hard drive. And for many years it has been my habit to default to musical offerings on YouTube and other media outlets whenever possible. So yes, I have a long-standing and extremely broad-based love affair with music.

Pre-Covid19 whenever I listened to music that had lyrics, I tended to listen carefully to the music but pay little attention to the lyrics. In fact, I was often hard pressed to discuss what a song had offered in the way of words; but I could discuss the musical accompaniment in detail.

Interestingly, now in Covid19 real time, I hear primarily the lyrics, not the music. This is especially true of gospel and country western music. And, more than that, as I listen to the songs I love most, my mind, and my soul, go directly from the song’s lyrics to thinking about Jesus and passages in Scripture that parallel what the song’s lyricist has been writing about. Music and Scripture have come alive for me in a completely new way.

You might say to yourself, “Wow, that is wonderful. How exciting.” Well, I suppose it is wonderful and exciting, but, frankly, it is also annoying and exhausting.

 My mind is continually abuzz with the question, “How can I use the way in which music now inspires me to communicate the urgent need to proclaim the gospel throughout not only our congregation, but also our community?” At this moment in time when the Christianity we know is so precariously positioned, how can I, how can we, be instrumental in keeping what Presiding Bishop Michael Curry so aptly calls the Jesus Movement alive? How can we work together to revive and strengthen Christianity’s presence in both our community and our nation?

With Jesus as the center of our lives; with Jesus as our guide; with Jesus as the one who lights the way for us – with all of these gifts that have been so freely given to us – how can we demonstrate in an urgent and powerful way Jesus’ command to not only, “Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another” (John 13:34), but also to “Render to Caesar only the things that are Caesar's, and to God all of the things that are God’s." (Mark 12:17) How do we make clear that for us Christians it is Jesus who directs our hearts, our minds, and our souls; Jesus who drives our decisions and our actions.

It is in the midst of these questions that I find myself with a newly discovered sensitivity to the lyrics of songs that relate to these challenging issues. And it is from the inspiration of the music and the lyrics that I begin my search through Scripture for parallel messages, in one of the four gospels, or one of Paul’s Letters.

It may sound tedious, but as I indicated earlier, the isolation and the tragedy of Covid19 has brought Christ into my life in ways that I never imagined. And that most certainly is not tedious.

Keeping all of this in mind, the moment I read today’s passage from 1 Corinthians I thought of the song I Love to Tell the Story – the Gospel Processional that we just heard. What better accompaniment to Paul’s words in this urgent message to his Corinthian church currently beset by doubt, strife, and temptation.

If you recall, Paul writes, “If I proclaim the gospel, this gives me no ground for boasting, for an obligation is laid upon me and woe to me if I do not proclaim the gospel.”

“An obligation is laid upon me and woe to me if I do not proclaim the gospel.” The key word here is “obligation.” Paul does not mince words. He is direct and fearless as he spells out the consequences of failing to meet his obligation. An obligation that stems from his earlier statement in the Letter – one that you heard last week. “There is no God but one…even though there are many gods and many lords – yet for us there is One God…and one Lord, Jesus Christ, through whom are all things and through whom we exist.”

Paul is quite clear – there is but one God and we are obliged to proclaim that one God to the world.  Jesus did not give us a choice. He was most direct in his commandment to “Go and make disciples of all nations.” The directive is abundantly clear, we are obliged to bring Christ to the world and to keep him there. If we forsake our obligation the consequences will be bleak.

“Woe to me”, says Paul. Woe to those who fail in the obligation laid upon them by Jesus. The obligation to proclaim the gospel.

Paul goes on to say, “I am entrusted with a commission. What then is my reward? Just this: that in my proclamation I may make the gospel free of charge, so as not to make full use of my rights in the gospel.”

A commission. Paul is commissioned to deliver the gospel free of charge – free of charge to all. Everyone – everyone should have the benefit of hearing the gospel, the good news. Everyone should have the opportunity to share in the love and saving grace of God. No one should be excluded – no one.

All should have the opportunity to be witness to the psalmist's words, “Come and hear, all ye that fear God, and I will declare what he hath done for my soul.”

Katherine Hankey, an English missionary and nurse who died in 1911 took most seriously her commission to proclaim the gospel. She gave her life to the task of nursing in a remote area of South Africa in the late 1800s. While there she became seriously ill. From her hospital bed, she wrote the poem The Old, Old, Story. The original poem which had approximately 100 verses quickly became legendary and was used in evangelical activities throughout England and America. Today we are, unfortunately, familiar with only the first two or three verses. Alan Jackson, the country western singer who seems to have the most popular rendition, chooses to sing only two verses. 

1.      I love to tell the story of unseen things above,
Of Jesus and His glory, of Jesus and His love;
I love to tell the story, because I know ’tis true,
It satisfies my longings as nothing else would do.

o   Refrain:
I love to tell the story,
’Twill be my theme in glory,
To tell the old, old story
Of Jesus and His love. 

2.      I love to tell the story, for those who know it best
Seem hungering and thirsting to hear it like the rest;
And when in scenes of glory I sing the new, new song,
’Twill be the old, old story that I have loved so long.

Not only is it our mandate to proclaim the gospel; it is to do so with gratitude and with joy. Our proclamation must be as Hankey wrote our theme of glory. A theme of glory that stems from the knowledge that we are loved by a forgiving God who, if we can only, stick with it, with him, will pull us through to glory – to salvation – and for the here and now, to a more peaceful world.

Now comes the point at which I say, "What does all of this mean for St. Simon's?" Before you moan and say, "Oh no, not another sermon telling us what we should be doing", and then tune out altogether, please give me just a minute. You might be surprised.

First of all, Both Fr. David and I want to say, "thank you – thank you everyone." From the first moment of this Covid19 surreal experience right up to and including today, you have all been doing nothing but proclaiming the gospel. You have worked together in new ways to make uninterrupted worship possible – to make it possible for your worship leaders to proclaim the gospel.

I wish we had been bright enough to develop a journal that depicted the stories and the pictures of St. Simon's in Covid19 time. The scramble to make a digital Holy Week and Easter Sunday. The hours of figuring out how our sound system works. By the way, I don't think anyone really yet knows – just ask Fr. David and Jennifer. The many intricacies of greeting and ushering in a masked, socially distanced world, including those wicked six-foot red sticks. The hours and hours spent developing and delivering Flock Notes to the entire congregation and Healing Touch cards, food, and flowers to those who are isolated or recovering from surgery or illness. The growing ministry of sound engineering for our outdoor services. Early rising to provide inspirational Morning Prayer services, and flower and altar preparations more beautiful than ever. Music that has never been more exquisite. If only we had all of these wonderful moments somehow recorded and put into a time capsule – they would tell a wonderful, a blessed story of St. Simon's proclaiming the gospel in Covid19 times.

I hope that my point has been taken. If it takes a village, you the village of St. Simon's have kept God alive both in our midst and over the Facebook and YouTube Internet airwaves. Over the course of the past eleven months – eleven months think of it – you have taken most seriously your obligation to make it possible to proclaim the gospel. No one need worry about saying, "Woe is me."

On Thursday, February 17 we begin our 2021 Lenten Journey. During this period Morning Prayer will resume. I will offer a book study group that examines in detail Jesus' last week. Fr. David's class will continue, and we will embark on a 40-day journey of intentionally saying "thank you" to the many people who make our lives possible – the people of our community – all of them – all who have and are uniting to pull us through this time of Covid19.

How will we do this – Well, the Lenten Flock Notes are here – right here in this little bag that contains several items for your Lenten journey. Right now, I want to highlight this excellent list of ways in which throughout the 40 days of Lent you can say "thank you" to all whom you encounter. It's a great list. Saying "thank you" – expressing gratitude - proclaiming the gospel through demonstrating love of neighbor - could not be easier. Please join us in doing so.

o   I love to tell the story,
’Twill be my theme in glory,
To tell the old, old story
Of Jesus and His love.

 

 

 

Peace on Earth, Good Will to Men

 SERMON – 01/03/2020

Throughout the world and certainly in America, the year 2020 was memorable for all the wrong reasons. Worldwide, as of December 2020, the Covid-19 pandemic had killed over 1.5 million people. In the U.S., during the same time period, there were over 315,000 deaths, with over 17 million people experiencing difficult and sometimes fatal symptoms as they recovered from this virulent disease.

The number of people affected by Covid-19 is staggering. The number of loved ones left behind – left behind in a morass of emotional and financial hardship – is mind-numbing. The emotional and physical effects of total isolation from family and friends imposed on thousands of the elderly housed in permanent care facilities, or simply living alone in in their own home, is heartbreaking - tragic.

 The economic impact of Covid-19 has yet to be calculated. However, just walking down the street of any town or city, or entering any mall, the number of darkened stores and restaurants speak for themselves. Jobs have been lost and careers that once seemed so promising are now irrelevant.

While the Covid-19 pandemic has ravaged the health and well-being of the American people, our governmental institutions have descended into a chaotic battle for power that threatens the very underpinnings of all that we as citizens of the U.S. know and love – a fair and just way of life.

As we make efforts to act with discipline in order to remain Covid-19 infection free, wearing masks, social distancing, and handwashing, we listen to endless broadcasts, filled with anxiety producing and anger provoking reports of political infighting and undisciplined and irresponsible comments designed to incite anger, hate, rebellion and rioting.

Without doubt, globally, and in the United States of America, the year 2020 was filled with challenges - anxiety, anger, and deep sadness. We yearned to put it all behind us. We yearned to go back to our normal way of life. Continually, we mouthed the hope – "certainly 2021 will be better."

Of course, "going back" is never possible, whatever the circumstances. And, of course, knowing what the future holds is equally impossible. Deep down we all know that. And yet, the fantasy of going back to better days in 2021 remains with us, despite the reality of the world around us – a world that most assuredly has forever changed. A world that has forever changed in ways that we cannot yet imagine.

However, despite all of this chaos and sadness, there is one constant. One steady presence that has not changed, that will never change. One constant that will be with us – be the same with us - always.

God the Father, who created us and who in a love that knows no bounds gave us the gift of his Son Jesus Christ.  The gift of a light that shines in the darkness. A light that darkness does not overcome. A light that points us to the way of peace – a peace not only between nations, but a peace that passes all understanding and that dwells deep within us and among us – all of us. A peace that, when experienced allows us to face life under any circumstances – any circumstances - with courage, creativity, commitment, and most importantly with love.

In Paul's letter to the Ephesians he writes to his converts, "I pray that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you a spirit of wisdom and revelation as you come to know him, so that, with the eyes of your heart enlightened, you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance among the saints, and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power for us who believe."

"I pray that with the eyes of your heart you may know the hope to which he has called you."

 "… the riches of his glorious inheritance,"

 "… the immeasurable greatness of his power for us who believe."

Stunningly powerful words. Have we listened to them carefully? Have we listened to them very carefully – with wisdom – with the eyes of our heart?

With faith in the Light of Christ deeply embedded in our hearts and souls, we have the ability – the power - to imagine ways to move beyond the chaos that so distracts us – so disrupts our world. The power to move forward in new ways, and to heal through word and deed. The power to lay aside egos, agendas, anger, and hatred, and in fellowship and unity heal through acts based in compassion and love.

The power of love – of healing - is ours for the asking. Christ has arrived. The Light is here. The Light of Christ, a light that the darkness cannot overcome, is with us. With us now and always.

On Christmas day in 1863 the great American poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow wrote a poem called “Christmas Bells.” The Civil War had brought a backdrop of national despair. Longfellow himself had suffered the tragic death of his beloved wife just two years earlier. She had accidently set her dress on fire when sealing a letter with a ball of wax that she was softening with the flame of a candle. Longfellow’s son Charlie had suffered serious wounds in the Mine Run Campaign in Virginia. His recovery was painful and difficult.

Against the backdrop of the painful loss of his beloved wife, constant worry over the precarious recovery of his son, and in the midst of a great war that ultimately claimed more than 600,00 American lives, Longfellow wrote his poem. A poem that was ultimately set to music and is now a beloved hymn – “I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day.” 

I heard the bells on Christmas Day
Their old, familiar carols play,
and wild and sweet
The words repeat
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And thought how, as the day had come,
The belfries of all Christendom
Had rolled along
The unbroken song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Till ringing, singing on its way,
The world revolved from night to day,
A voice, a chime,
A chant sublime
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

Then from each black, accursed mouth
The cannon thundered in the South,
And with the sound
The carols drowned
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

It was as if an earthquake rent
The hearth-stones of a continent,
And made forlorn
The households born
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!

And in despair I bowed my head;
"There is no peace on earth," I said;
"For hate is strong,
And mocks the song
Of peace on earth, good-will to men!"

Then pealed the bells more loud and deep:
"God is not dead, nor doth He sleep;
The Wrong shall fail,
The Right prevail,
With peace on earth, good-will to men."

Longfellow’s poem does not ignore the pain and suffering of his time, but in the end, it is filled with hope – the hope of “peace on earth, good-will to men.”

We cannot - indeed, we must not - ignore the suffering and pain that millions of people, worldwide, have experienced this past year. The pain and suffering that continues still, even in 2021, our hoped for “better year.”

But like Longfellow, we are called to look beyond this pain and suffering and with the eyes of our heart to know “the hope to which [Christ} has called [us]. The riches of his glorious inheritance among the saints, and the immeasurable greatness for us who believe.”

Jesus came to us to know us; to walk beside us; to share in our suffering and our pain; and, ultimately through his death on the cross to provide the light that will allow us to hear the bells on Christmas Day, and on every other day of the year.

The Wrong shall fail, the Right prevail,

With peace on earth, good-will to men.”

            

Practicing our Theology

 

SERMON

St. Simon's on the Sound - Nov. 15, 2020

Well, you may be happy to know that I have completed my first course in General Theological Seminary's Doctor of Ministry program – completed and passed.

 In a manner of speaking, I am on my way. I might add that the "way" is indeed a long way, with many challenges to be faced.

My first class was one of a series of four progressive courses designed to focus on the foundations of practical theology. All fancy words aside, I have been reading and writing a great deal about theology over the course of the past seven weeks – a great deal.

Now before you groan too loudly, or sigh despondently, saying "theology, ugh", let me explain a few things.

There are really two distinct areas of theology – academic theology and practical theology. Academic theology, or the work of the universities and seminaries, is a field devoted to scholarly research that seeks to define God through an examination and systematic investigation of religious beliefs, behaviors, and institutions.

Names of academic theologians that you might recognize are Thomas Aquinas, St. Augustine, and Martin Luther.

Practical theology, on the other hand, is an investigation of the ways in which we apply our Christian values, beliefs, and ways of being. It is an investigation of our personal theologies as they impact our daily lives.

The study of practical theology is devoted to the task of promoting, supporting, and sustaining lived discipleship rooted firmly in the Christian tradition. It does this by studying and describing lived theologies – the church’s practice of Christianity. It's a bit like anthropology. It is the study of how Christianity is actually lived out in the myriad cultures throughout our world.

The purpose of practical theology is to facilitate and improve organizational leadership within the Christian church as it prepares congregations to go out into the world and better practice Christianity.

This brief explication of practical theology is, obviously, a vast oversimplification of the pages and pages that have been written about it, and the myriad discourses that have, and still, take place in universities, seminaries, and churches throughout the world. However, I hope that my much oversimplified and brief definition is sufficient in pointing out the difference between academic theology and practical theology – or how we practice theology in the world.

Now that we are all crystal clear about the definition of practical theology, a key question for us today is: What is the practical theology that we as St. Simonites have developed?

How do we St. Simonites who worship, study, and interact as members of St. Simon's on the Sound develop a personal theology based on Scripture, teaching, and prayer; and then, how do we practice that theology among ourselves and in the world? How do we define that personal theology? How do we live it? What happens when it experiences jarring moments?

Of course, you have heard Father David and I preach about this concept – practical theology - hundreds of times. Just last week at our Annual Meeting Fr. David spoke of the importance of taking our St. Simon’s lived theologies – our Christian values, beliefs, and ways of being developed through our life together, here at St. Simon’s -  out into the community in ways that will encourage healing from divisiveness and anger. Ways that will bring Christ's love to a hurting world.

In his Annual Meeting charge to the congregation, Father David was asking us to “practice” our faith-based theologies – to engage in what is known as practical theology. To love our neighbors as ourselves – all of them. To live our theology.

St. Paul was of course the champion of practical theology. Paul spent the better part of his life trekking miles and miles throughout the Roman Empire, experiencing one hardship after another, all with the passionate intent of establishing Christian communities. Communities eager to hear his message about a Jew named Jesus who spoke of a God who offered salvation – freedom from sin and eternal life in his heavenly kingdom.

And he was wildly successful. As a “one-man show” preaching the good news – the gospel of Jesus Christ – Paul established Christian churches throughout the Empire. Christian communities that lived a Christ-centered theology of hospitality to all – welcoming the stranger and showing though word and deed the love and compassion of Christ. Love and compassion for all – regardless of social status or place of birth.

Paul's work was unceasing. He did not rest once a community had been established. Rather he left identified leaders behind and continued on to the next community to be converted to this new and exciting information brought by Jesus.

Wherever he traveled, Paul never lost touch with his beloved communities. Through his network of followers, he received ongoing news – kind of a constant contact weekly newsletter sent via communication systems of the times. Importantly, Paul didn’t just receive news, he sent letters responding to what he had learned about conditions of the churches he had left behind. He never stopped loving; he never stopped teaching. His commitment to Jesus Christ was unceasing.

Paul’s Letter to the Thessalonians was written during his lengthy stay in Corinth. This letter must have been a joy for Paul to write for the church in Thessalonica was doing well. Paul writes to them, “But you, beloved, are not in darkness…for you are all children of the light and children of the day.” This church has held onto Paul’s teachings about God and Christ as the way to God’s eternal kingdom. Christ’s pathway to salvation. They have held on – firmly – to their newfound faith.

Paul continues, “But since we belong to the day, let us be sober, and put on the breastplate of faith and love, and a helmet for the hope of salvation. For God has destined us not for wrath but for obtaining salvation through our Lord Jesus Christ, who died for us, so that whether we are awake or asleep we may live with him.”

Paul warns that although things may be going along smoothly at the moment, this will not always be the case. There will be difficult moments. Moments that are jarring to their faith – their newly minted Christian theologies. The going can and probably will be tough even for those who believe. Strong armor is needed if faith is to remain steady and solid.

And finally, Paul says, “Therefore encourage one another and build up each other, as indeed you are doing.”

Encourage one another and build up each other…Paul knew those two thousand years ago the strength of distractions that lead us away from Christ in this world. He understood this so clearly. He told us to clothe ourselves with protective armor. And, most importantly and realistically he insisted on the importance of a strong community. One in which members were continually supporting each other in their faith.

Paul knew that communal encouragement and support was, and of course continues to be, absolutely necessary to holding on to faith as one journeys through the world each day; and as one practices their personal theologies and relays to their home communities through word and deed the good news of Jesus Christ.

Today’s take away point is this: Paul understood that in order to practice the theology of the Good News, one must have ongoing and strong support from their church community. Personal theologies and the way in which we practice them once we leave church are highly dependent on the teachings and love that we receive from our life together here at St. Simon’s. This particular House of God is our foundation and our stronghold. As such it is more valuable than we can imagine.

It is here at St. Simon’s that we develop a personal theology founded upon the cornerstone of our Christian commitment to loving our neighbor as ourselves. A personal theology that never loses sight of compassion and love. A personal theology that encourages us and supports us in our role as disciples – our life as the hands, feet, and voice of Christ in the world.

In this time of Covid 19, a time in which we are separated in so many ways, including our ability to be together as a community here at St. Simon's, holding on to our faith, our hope, our love of neighbor can be challenging.

Our role as lonely warriors for Christ cast into the angry swirl of life that currently surrounds us can be unspeakably difficult. Overcoming the fear, anxiety, anger, depression, and the long-term effects of social isolation and social distancing – overcoming these dangerous, dangerous side-effects of this Covid time does indeed require heavy armor. I am quite certain that Paul would agree most wholeheartedly.

But God is with us – always and forever. We must hang onto to that knowledge.

And I believe we must take every opportunity to be together, safely, here at St. Simon’s – and, of course on Zoom when necessary – to worship, to study, to reflect, and to discuss. To keep Christ vibrantly alive in our lives – alive in the practice of our personal theologies - we must seek and receive support from our St. Simon’s community members. We must use the blessing of our church community to give us the strength to keep love, justice, and peace alive in the communities in which we live.

As I write this sermon, the nation continues to suffer from ways of being so antithetical to Christ’s teachings. It is, for me at least, hard to focus, hard to cling to hope for healing.

To divert from distressing thoughts, I imagine Paul sitting with his friend and scribe Timothy. Paul rises and walking back and forth begins to dictate a letter. Timothy writes, furiously trying to keep pace with Paul's quickly spoken thoughts.

Paul's letter reads:

“To my beloved at St. Simon’s on the Sound in Ft. Walton Beach, Florida, I write to you in this troubled time to give thanks for your steadfast love of each other. And I pray that you will continue to have the strength and the courage to show that love to each other and to your neighbors. Do not be distracted by worldly matters that cause you to fail in your commitment to our Lord, Jesus Christ. Your life as his disciple is your salvation. May you be blessed with a strong heart filled with love, and a deep desire to bring the peace of God – a peace that passes all understanding – to all whom you encounter. Your faithful servant, Paul.”

Shall we write back, and say, “Beloved Paul, we will practice this theology diligently. Peace to you.”

 

The Mind of Christ

 

SERMON

Proper 21 – Year A

As many of you know, I am embarking on what has become in recent years my life’s dream – I am now enrolled in a Doctor of Ministry Program at General Theological Seminary. A big step indeed – a three to four-year commitment, with the mandate of a dissertation worthy of publication to graduate. Yikes….

 Years ago, when I was studying for my master’s degree in Social Work there was a heavy emphasis on going beyond the master’s program. Back then a doctoral degree was the way to go. A doctorate gave you status and opened doors that a plain old master’s degree would never pass through. It was the logical next step in life.

 Being me, I did not go the traditional route. Sponsored by a good friend of mine who was also a psychiatrist, I went to work immediately. Working with him I established a private practice and began teaching at New York University School of Social Work. I was busy working, bringing up my daughter, and enjoying New York City to the fullest.

After twelve years of private practice and teaching, I left New York City on the first leg of what was, now as I look back on it, an incredible adventure of working in many places with many people. As I think about these years, I am astounded by how many life adventures I packed in – I would not change a thing.

 I tell you this abbreviated life history to set the background of why the doctoral program at General is so important to me – why it has become my life’s dream.

 So, bear with me.

 Those many years ago when I finished my master’s I was incredibly young. More importantly, I was the product of an extremely privileged and sheltered background. Although I had traveled extensively, I knew nothing about the world and the people who lived in it. Perhaps most significantly I had not yet encountered God. Looking back, I cannot imagine what I would have achieved by getting a doctoral degree at that point in time. Nothing really, I am quite sure. Nothing more than a title that brought with it prestige and money.

 Paul’s exhortation to the Philippians would have fallen on deaf ears.

“Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others. Let the same mind be in you that was in Jesus Christ.”

 “Let the same mind be in you that is in Jesus Christ.” What powerful words. Words that so concisely inform the way we are meant to live our lives. Keep those words in your mind, we are coming back to them.

 And so, the years passed by quickly as I ventured from place to place; remarkably self-centered and completely unaware of the goings-on in the world around me. During this time, I am sad to say that I paid little attention to God, but I now understand with every fiber of my being that he was paying a great deal of attention to me.

 How do I know that God was paying attention to me…well for one thing in the early 1990s I collided with the Holy Spirit. It was quite a collision. My life zigged off in a completely different direction, and I have not been the same since. In the barren and poverty-stricken Lower Rio Grande Valley the Holy Spirit entered my heart and my mind. In a moment – a split second - I saw, heard, and experienced life from a vastly different point of view.

A uniquely blessed man of small stature but great heart named Deacon Albert took me from zero to 90 in my understanding what I believe Paul meant when he said, “Let the same mind be in you that is in the mind of Christ.”

During my years in Texas, the God planted mustard seed took root. That smallest of seeds, God in me, took root and it began to grow, and grow, and grow. I grew into a new life space, and as I moved into this new space my relationship with Jesus became central to the way in which I encountered and interacted with the world.

I began to see – to understand – the many challenges that face the world and the incredible barriers that exist for the millions throughout the world who are seeking refuge in God’s kingdom. God’s kingdom here on earth. And with this new vision has come a quest. A quest so neatly described by Paul in his Letter to the Philippians:

“Do nothing from selfish ambition or conceit, but in humility regard others as better than yourselves. Let each of you look not to your own interests, but to the interests of others. Let the same mind be in you that was in Jesus Christ.”

And so, we arrive at the “why” of my embarking on a Doctor of Ministry Program at this moment in time. Now, a doctorate has a purpose for me. Not prestige or money, but rather the enhanced skill of thinking critically, the growth of my knowledge base regarding pressing social justice issues, and the tools to develop a strong and informed voice with which to impart this knowledge. A voice that carries with it God at work in me. A voice based in a deep faith in God. A voice that proclaims a Christian mode of action that forms an alternative society. A society based in love.

 A society that is in the same mind as the mind of Christ.

You may ask, why do I offer this brief life review today? And, I will say because its outcome for me has everything to do with who we all urgently must become at this moment in time. We all, every one of us, need to be in the same mind as the mind of Christ. A mind filled with compassion and love. We must listen carefully to the God in us, and work for his good pleasure.

As we move closer to the November 3^rd elections there will be an increase in the bitter dialogue that wants us to believe that our voting systems are faulty or fraudulent; that sinister conspiracies have distorted the political will of the people; that our public discourse has been perverted by the news media and social networks riddled with prejudice, lies and ill will; that judicial institutions, law enforcement and even national security have been twisted, misused and misdirected to create anxiety and conflict, not justice and social peace.

We must vigorously avoid this rhetoric. We must not let it guide our hearts, our minds, and our actions. We must not follow the example of the chief priests and elders of Matthew’s gospel. Leaders of their community too afraid of consequences; too afraid to recognize Jesus as the authority; the voice of God. We must not be too afraid to stand strong and do the work that God has given us to do – to love our neighbor and sow seeds not of hatred but of peace.

We must not be too afraid to dismiss from our hearts and minds negative and destructive forces that are so present in so many discussions and in all media. We must focus on the love with which God created the universe and mankind and the firm faith that carried Christ to the cross. We must be of like mind. We must have firm faith and allow that faith to guide us in understanding how to respond to our national dilemma.

It is up to us as a Christian community to be Christ in the world. Calm, faithful; knowing that if we stay focused on God, he will show us the way – a non-violent way – forward.

It is up to us to be a community that is in the same mind as the mind of Christ.

 

 

Let us offer abundance...

Sermon

August 02, 2020

Proper 13

Matthew 14:13-21

I don't know about you – but I do know about me, and I am tired. Tired of the anxieties, worries, and concerns that surround the unceasing pandemic of Covid 19.  Anxieties over contracting the virus ourselves. Worries over friends and families who have been infected, many of whom have died. Concerns for the state of our mental health, and that of others, as we head into month six of self-imposed isolation and social contact only through the gift of the Internet.

Yes, I am tired, and perhaps you are too.

But when I began to reflect on today's gospel reading something interesting happened to me. And, to a great extent my tiredness fell away. What happened, well here it is…For some reason, Jesus came vibrantly alive in a new way for me.

When I say came alive in a vibrant and new way, I mean that I saw Jesus as a fellow human being. A young man attempting to convey to those whom he encountered Good News. News that addressed the pain and the suffering that the Jews in Galilee were experiencing at the hands of the Roman Empire. The Good News that the one God of the Jewish faith – the sovereign God who brought the world into being, who blessed Abraham to be a blessing to all nations; the God who brought the Israelites back from exile – that God was present - always. Present continually to bless and heal. Present continually to bring peace to all those who turned to him.

This young man, poor, dusty, and with "no place to lay his head." This young man whose relationship with God sent him into our world to relentlessly and with incredible courage teach, heal, and guide us into a right relationship with God – this young man in the face of all that he had and would encounter, this young man must be really tired.

Just prior to today's gospel reading that relates the story of the feeding of the five thousand, Jesus had been discredited and rejected by the people of his hometown, Nazareth, as he taught in the local synagogue. Unable to "do many works because of their unbelief", he quickly left Nazareth, only to hear that his close friend, John the Baptist, the man whom he had asked to baptize him, had been beheaded by Herod.

After these two events this young man needed some alone time. He found himself on the shores of the Sea of Galilee. It is there that today's gospel story begins.

I imagine Jesus getting into a small wooden boat and silently drifting out into the Sea of Galilee trying to adsorb the events of the past few days, reflecting on to what and to where God was calling him next - wanting just a bit of time to be with God, to pray, to re-group, to gather the strength to carry on. In this little boat he had found a quiet place – a place to spend some alone time.

And then before he knew it, crowds surrounded him. They had followed him on foot from surrounding towns. They were yearning for his healing words, for his message of hope in these times of Roman domination.

And this tired young man responded to the crowd's yearning with compassion. Matthew tells us, "When he went ashore, he saw a great crowd; and he had compassion for them and cured their sick." And, as evening drew near, the disciples urged Jesus to send the crowd away. They knew that people must be hungry and tired. Perhaps they were afraid of unrest among some of the more unruly members of the crowd – remember there were reportedly 5000 people. That is a big crowd with a lot of diversity within it.

The disciples said to Jesus, "This place is deserted, and the hour is already late. Send the multitudes away, that they may go into the villages, and buy themselves food."

Jesus said to them, "They need not go away; you give them something to eat." "You." Jesus lays it on the shoulders of the disciples to find the resources to feed the crowd.

The disciples, perhaps somewhat bewildered, responded, "We only have here five loaves and two fish." The disciples were seeing only what they did not have. They failed to consider what they did have. As one sermon writer suggested, "The disciples have five loaves and two fish – seven items. In the disciples' hands, five loaves and two fish are not much, but there are other hands here – Jesus' hands. They really have eight items."

Jesus ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass. Taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven, and blessed and broke the loaves, and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds. And "all ate and were filled."

Amazing – an amazing story of compassion, abundance, and a foretaste of the Eucharistic meal. Also a story reminiscent of the manna miracle; the edible substance that God provided for the Israelites during their travels in the desert during the 40-year period following the Exodus and prior to the conquest of Canaan.

Today's gospel passage conveys a story of compassion. Jesus saw the crowd, had compassion on them, and healed those who were sick.

It is an abundance story in which God's providence solves a problem that seems impossibly large.

It is also a Eucharistic story with its overtones of the Lord's Supper.

In all, it is a continuation of the story of this young man, Jesus of Nazareth. A young man who, despite his need for time alone after being rejected by his townspeople and hearing of the brutal death of his friend John the Baptist, rose to his call from God. A tired young man who in compassion was moved to respond to those who sought comfort and healing; to those who were seeking God. A tired young man who insisted that his disciples participate in offering the incredible abundance that becomes possible when asking the blessing of God. A tired young man who knows only one way – the way of compassion and peace. The way of love and the way of forgiveness. The way of God, not the way of the Empire.

It is this young Jesus that came so vividly alive in my mind this past week. And as I reflected on the possibilities that may have given rise to this story, which by the way appears in all four gospels, I thought more and more about the importance of listening for and responding to God's call for us, his disciples, no matter how tired we may be.

I also thought about the disciples' fear that they lacked enough food – enough to provide for the crowd. I thought about Jesus' insistence that they bring the loaves to him for God's blessing. And then, his command that they distribute the bread – the disciples, not Jesus, were to do the work of providing for the crowd.

That brings me back to the concept of "tired."

Am I, are we, too tired by – that could translate into too numbed by – the dual pandemics – Covid 19 and political unrest - to listen for God's voice in the tsunami of media messages that wash over us each day? Are we too tired to make the effort to take our concerns, our anxieties, our fears – our scarcities -to God? Are we too tired to realize that once presented to God these scarcities are frequently turned into abundance for us to distribute to those who have appeared on our horizon seeking healing - seeking God?

Are we too tired to have the hope that by lifting our voices to God – all of us together asking for abundance – too tired to have the hope that we will bring forth the compassion and healing that the young man from Nazareth has to offer? Are we too tired to realize that healing is possible but only if we get out of our boat and go into the field to meet scarcity head-on, knowing that Jesus has blessed us and has commanded us – his disciples – to distribute the bread, the abundance – the healing and the peace.

Are we too tired to allow abundance to prevail?

I now have the vivid image of this young man, Jesus, firmly implanted in my mind. I am still tired, but I know that I can overcome this tiredness, if I just get up and go. Jesus is there to heal my tiredness and to bless my scarcity so that it becomes abundance. With abundance, I, we, can do so much in this broken world.

The fallout from the unceasing presence Covid 19 and political unrest continues to take a great toll on the health – physical, socio-political, and economic of our nation. The on-going bickering that pervades every level of society and is the order of the day on so many different social media platforms has created an atmosphere of disinformation, anxiety, and mistrust of every aspect of society and government.

I believe we have a right to be tired, but we cannot be tired. The young man is out of the boat. He is in the field with a crowd of 5000. He is asking us to distribute abundance. An abundance that will lead to healing and freedom from scarcity.  AMEN