Does My Mission Glorify God?

 

Does My Mission Glorify God?

The Rev. Clelia Pinza-Garrity, LCSW – Deacon

A reflection on John 17:6-19, Jesus’ prayer for his disciples

Offered by the Rev. Fadi Diab

This month our Global Mission reflection focuses on the Rev. Fadi Diab as presenter in week seven of the post-Easter video series offered by the Episcopal Church’s Office of Global Partnerships (OGP): Walking in the Footsteps of Jesus: An Easter Journey with Palestinian Christians.   https://www.episcopalchurch.org/ministries/global-partnerships/easter-video-series/?mc_cid=40559f7d83&mc_eid=de3b52ed71

Rev. Fadi Diab is rector of St. Andrew’s Church in Ramallah and St. Peter’s Church, Birziet.

Since the onset of the Israel/Gaza war on October 7, 2023, Fr. Fadi has been a key participant in various forums produced by both the Global Episcopal Mission Network (GEMN) and the OGP. He has been and remains a constant, compelling, and passionate spokesperson for the Diocese of Jerusalem and has offered ongoing updates on the lives of not only Christians but all who live on Jerusalem’s West Bank. I am a huge fan of his and I think you will be too after viewing his reflection. It is Week Seven in the above referenced link.

Throughout this all too brief seven-week series, reflections offered by the Archbishop of Jerusalem and his clergy on the Gospel readings for the weeks following Easter are each in their own way stunning examples of deep faith and courageous theological and spiritual leadership in the midst of tragedy and terror. The series is hosted by the Middle East Partnership Officer for the Episcopal Church, Paul Feheley, a Canadian priest, who has become a good friend over the past several months as we share information and concerns about the Diocese of Jerusalem.

In reflecting on John 17:6-19, Jesus’ most beautiful prayer of concern for his disciples, Fr. Fadi assures us that “Jesus is very much concerned about his disciples, and we know that Jesus is very much concerned about his church today. About the faithful communities, especially the faithful communities that must go through difficult times.” Throughout Fr. Fadi stresses that Jesus continues to walk with us each day and through his relationship with the Father Jesus continually intercedes for us. Every day, even in the midst of pain and suffering and agony, we see God’s love. We see God’s care for people who cannot take care for themselves – the hungry and the sick. We see it in the arrival of food, medication, organizations supporting interventions that seek peace and justice, and of course through the many prayers offered, and the disciples who walk alongside us no matter what challenges they face.

As his reflection continues Fr. Fadi turns his focus to the role of the disciple and ways in which his congregations in their mission as disciples of Christ, despite their own fears and challenges, are finding comfort in compassionately reaching out to others in the community. Fr. Fadi concedes that being a disciple is challenging work. He tells us that “Once we decide to follow Jesus, we need to anticipate challenges, pushback…but that is the mission of the church, to come out of its comfort zone. To challenge injustice; to save lives…We need to continue to minister to those who are devastated...That is the mission of God. That mission is what glorifies God.”

Speaking of his congregants, Fr. Fadi reflected that, “At first they were frightened, angry, but as they began to reach out to others, educating them, revealing the truth, that is when they found their sanctity, the process of sanctification, through serving truth…That is how they consecrated themselves…It has really helped them to heal as they educate others, as they take part in revealing truth…to the world.”

Fr. Fadi concludes this brief, deeply moving reflection with a simple but powerfully thought-provoking charge:

“Our mission is what brings God’s glory. He is glorified in our mission. So, we need to ask ourselves does my mission glorify God?”

Our Constant Light

 

SERMON

Maundy Thursday - March 28, 2024

Several weeks ago, I preached on the gift of the good news proclaimed by Jesus. Good news that points us to the light of Christ. The light of Christ; a light that frees us from the exile of darkness. A light which makes possible our entrance into the kingdom of God’s love, forgiveness, and salvation.

Tonight, I preach about the disappearance of the light. The return to the exile of darkness that engulfs us as we anticipate the crucifixion of Christ. Tonight, the light of Christ will be extinguished. Seemingly eclipsed from our lives. Gone.

I first experienced this devastating eclipse of Christ’s light while visiting one of the largest Episcopal cathedrals in the United States, a massive gothic structure with a sanctuary that accommodated six choir stalls designed to seat 32 singers, chairs for 10 clergy, a 62 rank Austin organ, and a large free-standing altar covered by an intricately designed red and gold silk brocade Jacobean frontal.

The altar cushions displayed brilliant needlepoint designs. Lustrous silver candlesticks and candelabra held golden beeswax candles. Beautifully embroidered linens and multiple light-catching silver flagons and chalices added to the brilliance that surrounded this exquisite space.

The wall behind the altar was dominated by three stained glass panels that soared upward into the vaulted ceiling. These incredible pieces were placed above marble images of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John and were framed by intricate stone carvings of assorted designs.

The entire area was bathed in glorious light. The light of Christ.

Throughout the service the incredible voices of the choir and the thrilling music made possible through the various ranks of such a versatile organ transported the entire congregation into a spiritual place well beyond our day-to-day realities.

As the Eucharist drew to a close the many lanterns scattered around the church were dimmed and the candles extinguished. Ever so slowly the priests, deacons, chalice bearers and acolytes began to “strip” the altar and the choir began to chant Psalm 22:

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? And are so far from my cry and my words of distress.

O my God, I cry out in the daytime, but you do not answer; by night as well, but I find no rest.

Chalices and all of the other eucharistic vessels were reverently handed to Altar Guild members waiting at a small door that opened onto the sanctuary. The Fair Linen was carefully folded and gently handed to an acolyte. Then the candelabra, the frontal, the cushions, the Altar Book, the prayer books, and the hymnals quietly disappeared, one by one. The ceremony proceeded slowly, gracefully, and tragically. All the while the choir chanted Psalm 22 ever so quietly.

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? And are so far from my cry and my words of distress.” 

And then, the chanting drew to a close. The lights dimmed to near blackout. The priest slowly removed the purple veil from the processional cross and then gently, reverently re-veiled the cross in black. At that point the church fell into total darkness and with the processional cross leading, the choir, the clergy, the chalice bearers, and the acolytes solemnly and ever so quietly processed out in silence. As the last in this long line of mourners passed by each row then joined the somber procession.

Out into the darkness went the cross; out into the darkness went the clergy; out into the darkness went the congregation – out into the darkness we all went, following Jesus to the Garden of Gethsemane.

No words, no music; no light. The light of Christ extinguished.

I was not alone as I shed tears and felt a painful emptiness in my heart; an emptiness that I had never experienced before. I was not alone when I thought, “Christ is gone; there is no Christ – what will I do?”

In the dark sorrow of the Maundy Thursday stripping of the altar I believe that we, each in our own way, experience a sense of doom and desolation. Jesus has been betrayed; he will be scorned; he will be tortured; he will suffer excruciating pain; he will be nailed to a cross, crucified; he will die an agonizing death.

Tonight, the light of Christ will be extinguished. Darkness will fall upon us. Darkness will invade our hearts and souls. We will experience deep sadness and despair. The Light will have disappeared.

But when that moment of sadness and despair comes upon us, let us remember the words of Genesis 1, “… God said, let there be light; and there was light. And God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness.” (Gen 1:3-4).

Then let us remember John’s words when he spoke of the arrival of Jesus as God’s agent in the world, “What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” (John 1:4-5)

And finally, let us remember Christ’s words when he so wisely proclaimed, “No one after lighting a lamp puts it under the bushel basket, but on the lampstand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father in heaven.” (Matt 5:15-16)

Christ’s light is God’s light, and God’s light is our light. An eternal light given to us at the beginning of time. An eternal light that pleases God. An eternal light passed on to us by Christ. An eternal light that as a beloved child of God, no matter what the circumstance, we shall carry with us always, in our hearts, in our minds, and in our souls. A light that we are called to shed on others.

This evening, Jesus’ time among us will come to an end. In a few short hours Jesus will ascend and once again be one with the Father. And we, if we have heard his message; have received him into our hearts; have been truly baptized by his Spirit, will follow him on this last journey into the darkness of the garden, through the agony of the crucifixion, and beyond.

In just a few short hours we, you and I, will be the bearers of God’s eternal light. We will be the lamp that gives light to the whole house.

And what then? How do we carry out this enormous responsibility cast upon us not only by Jesus, but also God, the Father. What is our job to be?

In tonight’s gospel Jesus tells his disciples, “Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will be my servant also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor.”

Our responsibility, our salvation, Jesus tells us, is made manifest through being the good servant; through moving in and through and with God as we go about our day-to-day lives. Our words and deeds are to be embedded with the compassion, love, and forgiveness shown us so beautifully by Christ tonight as he washes our feet and feeds us with this last meal. A meal destined to become a sacred remembrance of our lives together.

We are destined to serve the world by pouring forth into the world Christ’s compassion, love, and forgiveness. Compassion, love, and forgiveness generated by the light of Christ that burns deeply and eternally in our hearts.

If, in some small way, we can accomplish this task of serving one another with compassion, love, and forgiveness as Jesus loved, served, and forgave us, I assure you we will be bathed in the light of Christ, God’s light given to us at the beginning of time. We will come to know the peace that passes all understanding; we will understand the meaning of our salvation; we will be true participants in the glory of the Easter resurrection.

Tonight, we follow Jesus on the first steps towards his death – and believe it or not, the star that lights the way, shines more brightly than ever,

I close with a prayer of the Kikuyu  in Kenya - I Have No Words To Thank You

O my Father, Great Elder, I have no words to thank you, but with your deep wisdom I am sure that you can see how I value your glorious gifts.

O my Father, when I look upon your greatness, I am confounded with awe. O Great Elder, Ruler of all things earthly and heavenly, I am your warrior, ready to act in accordance with your will.

 

 

 

A Lenten Reflection

 

SERMON

March 10, 2024

John 3:14-21

Well, here we are right, smack in the middle of Lent, a time that demands consistent commitment to the tasks of reflection and repentance. Tasks that each of their own accord present enormous challenges both historically and in the present moment. Yet, however challenging, mandatory tasks for a Lenten journey in which we clear the decks for long periods of time to reflect on the ways in which we have succumbed to temptation and turned away from God. Time in which we reflect how we might resist the pull of temptation by turning to God for help and for forgiveness.

Time in which we begin to understand the true meaning of repentance.

In the Hebrew Bible repent means “to return,” especially “to return from exile.” The roots of the Greek word for repent mean “to go beyond the mind that you have.” To repent is to return from exile (falling away from God) and to embark on a way that goes beyond the mind that you have. A mind that has lost its focus on God.

So also, the ancient meaning of the word “believe” has a meaning quite different from our common understanding. “Believe” has to do with trust and commitment. “To believe in the good news,” means to trust that the kingdom of God is near and to commit to that kingdom.

Our Lenten journeys are the “time out” needed for our return from exile. These reflective times of prayer and repentance provide the possibility to go beyond the minds that we have. They provide the faith foundation that is absolutely necessary if we are to “believe” – to trust and commit to - the good news given to us so lovingly, so powerfully through the gift of the incarnation.

The gift of the good news proclaimed by Jesus whose teaching and healing offer us ways in which to return from exile, ways to go beyond the minds that we have. Ways in which it becomes so easy to attain God’s forgiveness, God’s love, God’s salvation. Ways in which to repent.

Today’s brief reading from Numbers tells a graphic story of repentance. The Israelites after 40 long years continue to wander in the desert wilderness. They are tired and hungry, fed up with the tasteless manna that they receive each day. They cry out to God, “Why have you brought us up out of Egypt to die in the wilderness? For there is no food, no water, and we detest this miserable [manna].”

This disruptive anger causes God to react quickly and quietly. He sends venomous snakes to infest the camp. Many of the Israelites are killed by the poisonous snake bites. They are terrified and cry out to Moses, “We have sinned by speaking against the Lord and against you; pray to the Lord to take away the serpents from us.”

Moses gets to work praying for the people and, as always, God responds. He instructs Moses to “Make a poisonous snake and put it upon a pole; and everyone who is bitten shall look at it and live.”

The people took heed. Whenever a snake bit them they rushed over to the pole and gazed up at the evil-averting bronze snake that had been attached to it, and they were cured. Some biblical interpretations speculate that the Israelites were in fact looking upward beyond the bronze snake to heaven. In any case, looking up at the bronze snake was the antidote to death. Those who were bitten were healed.

I am struck by the fact that in this story of salvation God did not remove the evil, death by snakebite; but he did provide the alternative to death, looking upward to the evil-averting bronze snake. An antidote of God’s making. The people had a choice. Death by snakebite, or belief in God’s almighty power to heal, to save.

Thousands of years later, John writes, “Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but that in order that the world might be saved through him. Those who believe in him are not condemned; but those who do not believe are condemned already, because they have not believed in the name of the only Son of God.”

Does this sound familiar. The world is in trouble, in exile. People were living in exile and loving darkness rather than reaching for the light. God recognizes this and as a response sends the most unimaginable gift of his Son, Jesus. God provides a light that enters the world to dispel the darkness of exile. A light to illuminate ways of being that go beyond the minds of those in exile. Ways in which it becomes so easy to attain God’s forgiveness, God’s love, God’s salvation. Ways in which to repent and return to God.

“Those who do what is true come to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that their deeds have been done in God.” Those wandering in the desert of darkness now have a glorious alternative. The possibility of God’s forgiveness, God’s love, God’s salvation.

Look up. Return from exile and think in ways that go beyond the mind that you have. Have faith in the light of Christ.

But is this message of salvation just for us? For our personal benefit? I think not.

Many theologians agree that all Scripture is missional in nature. In other words, the Old Testament, the Psalms, and the New Testament each in their own way provide ample clues as to the ways in which we as Christians have been called first by God, and then by his Son, and now by the Spirit to be a missional people. A people generously spreading the light of Christ and the love and salvation offered by God to all those throughout the world who live in darkness

In his book Transforming Mission, David Bosch, one of the foremost mission theologians of the twentieth century wrote, “The classical doctrine of the missio dei as God the Father sending the Son, and God the Father and the Son sending the Spirit (is) expanded to include yet another “movement”: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit sending the church into the world…mission is not primarily an activity of the church, but an attribute of God. God is a missionary God…Mission is thereby seen as a movement from God to the world; the church is viewed as an instrument of that mission…There is church because there is mission, not vice versa.” (pp.492-96)

God expects us to carry his light into the world. We are called to be a light to the world. A light that causes church to become church. As one of my colleagues so succinctly put it, “Unless we speak for God who else will speak.”

So, in these last few weeks of Lent as we reflect on our lives as Christians and consider ways in which we must repent if we are indeed to be the light of Christ in the world, I would encourage us to start by having a good look at the overwhelming needs of the world. A world that as Justin Welby, Archbishop of Canterbury, said last week “has come unhinged.” A world besieged by darkness. A world so very much in need of Christ’s light.

The war in the Ukraine has just passed the two-year mark. Over 10,000 people have been killed and as of the end of December 2023, 5.9 million refugees from Ukraine were recorded across Europe, most unsettled and awaiting the possibility of a return to their homeland.

The death toll in Israel-Hamas war has surpassed 30,000, roughly one person for every 73 who live in Gaza. The United Nations recently warned that famine is immanent for more than half a million of Gaza’s residents, and that one in six children under the age of 2 in northern Gaza is suffering from acute malnutrition. 

In Sudan 17.7 million people—37% of the population—are experiencing crisis levels of food insecurity. Hunger and starvation are a daily occurrence with over 13.6 million children urgently needing life-saving humanitarian assistance. Over 3 million children are facing severe acute malnutrition.

Climate change is contributing to humanitarian crises where climate hazards affect vulnerable populations. About 3.3 to 3.6 billion people are highly vulnerable to climate change because of the location and circumstances in which they live.

Just here at home thirteen million children are food insecure and experiencing hunger. Homelessness in America spiked in 2022, reaching a record high of more than 650,000 people, all of whom were living in shelters or outside in tents or cars. 

There are millions upon millions of people who live and suffer in darkness, who need the light of Christ to illuminate the hope that can be generated only by being assured that they are loved by God.

What might our repentance this Lenten season look like then. We might ask the question, “In light of so engulfing a sea of darkness where is God’s mission, the church?”

I would suggest that prayer generated by a greater awareness of whatever it is we are praying for is a good start. Seizing upon a particular issue, reading a bit about it, talking to others about it, getting other points of view, and then developing a prayer based on educated awareness, compassion, and love. That is a good first step.

Of course, there are many other steps. But knowledge bred of educated awareness, continual self-reflection based in humility and the search for repentance, and prayer are a good place to start.

 

 

 

 

 

Relationships with the Divine

 

SERMON

February 11, 2024

Mark 9:2-9 

One of my favorite prayers is authored by Thomas Merton a Trappist monk, and a leading twentieth century spiritual thinker. The prayer is found in his book Thoughts in Solitude. A book that explores the necessity for quiet reflection in an age when, so little is private. In the prayer Merton speaks directly to God saying, "I hope that I will never do anything apart from pleasing you. And I know that if I do this you will lead me by the right road, though I may know nothing about it. Therefore, will I trust you always though I may seem to be lost and in the shadow of death. I will not fear, for you are ever with me, and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.”

Merton’s thoughts remind me of The late Archbishop Desmond Tutu’s statement about the importance of quiet reflection and solitude. In one of his many public appearances he commented, “If we do not take time to be quiet and be with God, we will disintegrate. Our vertical relationship with our Father is of the upmost importance to have right.”

Our vertical relationship with God is of utmost importance to have right.

Today’s gospel focuses on the Transfiguration of Jesus. Apart from the resurrection, the Transfiguration is the most definitive revelation of the incarnation, our Lord Jesus Christ, as a divine figure. Atop the mountain his apostles Peter, James, and John at his side, Jesus is stunningly, dazzlingly transformed and revealed as the beginning of a new covenant that promises the grace and peace of God’s salvation for humanity.

The Transfiguration was an event that revealed Jesus’ deity and provided the sensory experience that would live within each of the apostles and offer testament and witness to all Jesus’ teachings and healings for the remainder of his ministry.

Today is also a day that the Episcopal Church focuses on World Mission.

World mission is the lifeblood of the Episcopal Church. World mission guarantees our church’s voice in the larger global community. A community comprised of all Christian faith groups as well as people of other faiths and people of no faith at all. World Mission provides witness to God’s reconciling love in a global context, crossing boundaries of differences and meeting Christ in one another. World mission implies being present with and journeying with others, as Jesus was present and journeyed with us.

World mission initiatives educate, empower, and inspire individuals and parishes to respond to God’s call for engagement through relationships and spiritual transformation throughout the Anglican Communion and beyond. World mission vows to seek and serve Christ in all persons and to respect the dignity of all human beings; and to restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ.

World mission offers the transfigured Jesus, God’s love, to all those throughout the world who seek healing and peace.

To quote Tutu once again, “God places us in the world as his fellow workers-agents of transfiguration. We work with God so that injustice is transfigured into justice, so there will be more compassion and caring, that there will be more laughter and joy, that there will be more togetherness in God's world.”

To work with God so that injustice is transfigured into justice in a world replete with injustice.  To create more compassion and caring in a world filled with alienation and suffering. To foster laughter, joy, and togetherness in a world filled with sadness and grief; these are awesome tasks, some say impossible tasks. Tasks that cannot be accomplished if our hearts and souls are not filled with the glory of God’s grace incarnated in our savior Jesus Christ. Tasks that remain beyond our reach if we have not experienced the transfigured Jesus as the way to compassion, caring, healing, and unremitting love. 

To be disciples of Christ, to be a Christian community uncompromisingly and persistently proclaiming the good news, the gospel of Jesus Christ, is an impossible task without continually envisioning the transfigured Jesus and holding his divinity and his love deep within our hearts and souls. 

And it is only by way of this relationship with the transfigured Jesus, of our unerring commitment to follow him to the cross and beyond proclaiming the good news without fear or distraction, that we can possibly establish a vertical relationship with God.

To follow Jesus beyond the cross, to be in vertical relationship with God, is the way, the only way, to a world that is reconciled to God. A world that is guided by justice, compassion, and caring. A world that lives in fellowship, and peace. A world in which our relationship with God is of supreme importance and our life, as we cross boundaries of differences and meet Christ in one another, provides witness to God’s reconciling love.

A life dedicated to the church’s five marks of mission:

·      To proclaim the Good News of the Kingdom.

·      To teach, baptize and nurture new believers.

·      To respond to human need by loving service.

·      To transform unjust structures of society, to challenge violence of every kind and pursue peace and reconciliation.

·      To strive to safeguard the integrity of creation and sustain and renew the life of the earth. 

This is a time of transition for St. Simon’s. The assurance of our church’s solid future requires a congregation that is solid in their love of each other, their commitment to the teaching of scripture, their steadfast focus on the transfigured Jesus, and their resolve, both individually and corporately, to always be in vertical relationship with God. A vertical relationship that ensures a future in which St. Simon’s grows into its call to be an active member of the larger communion as it endeavors to undertake the church’s mission.

How do we do this?

On our web page, the St. Simon’s mission statement proclaims: A sacramental church, striving to know Christ and make Him known.

A sacramental church. A church imparting divine grace. Through the sacrament of the Holy Communion, we strive to know Christ and to receive his divine grace as we gather at his table each week.

In Eucharistic Prayer A the priest prays on our behalf saying, “Sanctify us also that we may faithfully receive this holy Sacrament, and serve you in unity, constancy, and peace…” Through the divine gifts of Christ’s body given for us and his blood shed for us we celebrate the gift of a new Covenant that brings with it the forgiveness of our sins. Through participation in the eucharist we meet Christ. Our hearts open to his presence within us and among us as reverently we take his sacred body and blood into our very being. Through this sacred gift we are fed, blessed, and sent forth to serve in unity, constancy, and peace.

Participation in the sacrament feeds us and prepares us for the work of striving to know Christ and make Him known. The second part of this mission statement speaks to our call to live into our sacramental being and to proclaim to the world by word and example the Good News of God in Christ. This proclamation is our first priority. The essence of our work in bringing reconciliation and peace to the global community.

St. Simon’s is A sacramental church, striving to know Christ and make Him known. A big mission. A mission that requires us to pay close attention to our congregational well-being. A congregational well-being that can be achieved only if our focus remains hard and fast on the divinity of the transfigured Jesus and through that focus remain in vertical relationship with God. Without this vertical relationship, as Desmond Tutu so wisely said, we will disintegrate.

All this requires solitude and prayer. Let us pray…

O gracious and loving God, you work everywhere reconciling, loving, and healing your people and your creation. In your Son and through the power of your Holy Spirit, you invite each of us to join you in your work. We, young and old, lay and ordained, ask you to form us more and more in your image and likeness, through our prayer and worship of you and through the study of your scripture, that our eyes will be fully opened to your mission in the world. Then, God, into our communities, our nation, and the world, send us to serve with Christ, taking risks to give life and hope to all people and all of your creation. We ask this in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Authority & Healing

 

SERMON

January 28, 2024 - Mark 1:21-28

When Fr. Blake invited me to be with you all today, he said “It will be good to hear a deacon preach at St. Jude’s.” Then he added, “And it will be wonderful to have the presence of a woman at our altar as well.”

I am flattered by so generous an invitation and honored to be here with you today as we install the St. Jude’s Daughter of the King’s new members.

Congratulations to all of you for being a part of this incredibly important ministry.

Today, I speak to you as the voice of a deacon, not necessarily from a woman’s point of view, but from the point of view of one called by God to proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ and one committed to stiving for justice and peace among all people.

Today I speak to you as one who has been called by God to the vocation of a deacon, ordained 14 years ago by the Rt. Rev. Dan Edwards, now retired Bishop of Nevada. On that sacred day, as Bishop Dan lay hands on me, I vowed to make Christ and his redemptive love known, by word and example to those among whom I live, work, and worship, and I vowed to interpret to the Church the needs, concerns, and hopes of the world.

I can assure you that back in 2010 on the day of my ordination I had no idea what that call would entail. No idea at all.

Since that day many years ago I have experienced an incredibly spiritual journey. A powerful journey in which the compelling voice of Christ and the continual presence of God’s love have reinforced, strengthened, and informed a call that is quite challenging. A call sanctioned and empowered by God to be an icon illuminating Christ as a model of love, compassion, and healing. A call to be a bridge between the church and the world. And a call to act as a prophetic voice that leads the church forth into a troubled world as God’s mission in Christ. 

That is my call as a deacon.

All that leads me to say that today’s gospel is one of my favorites. It may be only the briefest of stories but it is a story that is immensely exciting to me because it points to specific ways in which not only I but all of us are called to be the voice of Christ in this complex and much troubled world.

For me this passage from Mark contains two key words, “authority” and “healing.” As Christians, we have been commanded to go forth into the world and to make disciples of all nations That command mandates that in our work as disciples of Christ we speak with authority. We speak of the Good News brought to us through the incarnation, the crucifixion, and the resurrection with authority. We speak of God’s love for each and every one of us with authority. We speak of Jesus as our savior with confidence and conviction, with authority.

And our speaking with authority leads to healing. Our confident words and our compassionate love of neighbor mirror God’s love for all his beloved children. Our confident words speak to the grace that God’s love pours out onto us. Love that fills our hearts and minds to the point of overflowing and then spills over to others, enfolds others, in that same God love.

With the authority given us by Christ to go forth into the world we offer the world the blessing of healing. The authority given us by Christ offers release from the power of fear and isolation; healing of mind, body, and spirit. The authority given us by Christ is the pathway to peace. God’s peace that passes all understanding.

Today’s gospel story begins as Jesus enters the synagogue at Capernaum and begins to teach. But to the surprise of all he doesn’t teach as a beginner rabbi, rather he teaches “with authority.” The scribes, who were often interpreters of the law in the ancient world, were probably present to criticize and humiliate Jesus. But instead they were astounded by the way in which he was teaching. They were astounded that this young upstart was teaching them with great authority. He actually knew as much, if not more than the scribes.

And then, in the midst of Jesus’ teaching a man with an unclean spirit enters the synagogue, disrupts the discussion, and loudly confronts Jesus. The man says “What have you to do with us, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us?” Unfazed Jesus looks directly at the man and with authority says, “Be silent and come out of him!” Immediately an unclean spirit, convulsing, and crying out with a loud voice came out of him and everyone was amazed. 

The scribes wondered aloud, “What is this? A new teaching – with authority! He commands even the unclean spirits, and they obey him.” The people were also amazed by the authority with which Jesus spoke. Quickly they went out into the surrounding community and conveyed this astonishing tale of healing to all they encountered.

The good news, the gospel of Jesus Christ, spread like wildfire.

Teaching, preaching, confronting, proclaiming the Good News of the Kingdom of heaven, of God’s loving and forgiving presence with us now at this very time, in this very place, all this delivered with a voice of authority, that is the hallmark of Jesus’ time with us. And as Christ’s disciples, extensions of God’s mission in the world those same tasks have been given to us. Given to us to proclaim with the voice of authority.

As Christ’s disciples we have been given the mandate to speak of God’s love and forgiveness with a voice of authority; with a voice that astounds. A voice that makes clear the universality of God’s incredible love. A love that extends to all no matter what ethnicity. No matter what skin color. No matter what language is spoken. No matter what sexual orientation. No matter what economic status. A powerful love that is so desperately needed if we are to heal this troubled world. A world overwhelmed by poverty, hunger, racism, terrorism, war, and the dangerous divisiveness of political struggles.

Our voice of authority is powerful. It enables us to bring the good news of the church, God’s mission in the world, to all. It allows us to heal.

Of course, it’s no secret, being the voice of Christ and speaking with authority is no easy task. One does not need to be ordained clergy to discover that hard reality. Skepticism and rejection are just around every corner. Yet, there is no getting off the hook. Bishops, priests, deacons, and you – yes you – all of us are members of the body of Christ anointed through baptism to carry out God’s mission in the world. A mission that if carried out with authority brings healing.

And in view of the fact that I am a deacon you might ask: “What about deacons? How did they come into the picture? Are they in any way different from priests?”

Well, if you remember your study of the Book of Acts you will recall that quite soon after the ascension of Jesus the apostles appointed seven deacons to go out into the community and tend to the needs of the poor, while they, the apostles, stayed at home to pray and lead the community in worship. You might also remember that Stephen, the very first deacon to be appointed, was so vigorous and effective with his voice of authority that he was stoned to death!

I believe that his death is a metaphor for just how challenging and yes, at times dangerous, the life of a true disciple can actually be. Speaking with the authority of Christ is not always appreciated by those who seek to retain power and control, frequently to the detriment of the general community.

At their ordination deacons vow to act as a prophetic voice that leads the church forth into a troubled world as God’s mission in Christ. A prophetic voice that confronts evil and leads the way to the building of God’s kingdom among those who suffer.

This means that deacons are the point people scoping out the territory, getting a feel for who needs what. Assessing the challenges. Meeting the people where they are and creating what might be called a basecamp for those who will follow as workers on this new missional project.

The work of the deacon is to be on the edge and to slowly bring the edge into the middle. Your work, my friends, is to cross the threshold created by the deacon and to walk through the door that has been opened. An opened door that allows the light of Christ, God’s love for all his beloved children, to initiate the healing process and slowly and gently bring those on the edge to the middle. The middle where God’s eternal Kingdom reigns and peace prevails. 

And this finally brings me full circle to the Daughters of the King. In your Service of Admission, you vowed to obey faithfully the Two Rules of the Order, The Rule of Prayer, and the Rule of Service. To offer your support to the clergy for the good of the parish and the extension of Christ’s kingdom. Your mission through prayer and service is to support the extension of Christ’s kingdom.

You vow to pray regularly and with the deepest faith imaginable for the well-being of all those in your congregation and all those in the world who go forth in the name of Christ, with authority. Who go forth to bring about the healing of the world.

That my friends is a big job, and it is a job that is of critical importance. It is a job that you have vowed to take on from now forward. A job that will take you to many places, on many adventures. Some most wonderful and some so very sad and painful. But you do it all for our Savior Jesus Christ.

Let us pray:

Dear Jesus, help me to spread Thy fragrance everywhere I go. Flood my soul with Thy spirit and love. Penetrate and possess my whole being so utterly that all my life may only be a radiance of Thine. Shine through me and be so in me that every soul I come in contact with may feel Thy presence in my soul. Let them look up and see no longer me but only Jesus. Stay with me and then I shall begin to shine as you shine, so to shine as to be a light to others. AMEN

 

 

 

 

The Man in Black

 

SERMON

John 1:1-18

December 31, 2023 

Well, you wonder why I always dress in black

Why you never see bright colors on my back

And why does my appearance seem to have a somber tone

Well, there's a reason for the things that I have on 

… I wear the black for the poor and the beaten down

Livin' in the hopeless, hungry side of town

I wear it for the prisoner who has long paid for his crime

But is there because he's a victim of the times 

… I wear the black for those who've never read

Or listened to the words that Jesus said

About the road to happiness through love and charity

Why, you'd think He's talking straight to you and me 

… I wear it for the sick and lonely old

For the reckless ones whose bad trip left them cold

I wear the black in mournin' for the lives that could have been

Each week we lose a hundred fine young men 

… Well, there's things that never will be right, I know

And things need changin' everywhere you go

But 'til we start to make a move to make a few things right

You'll never see me wear a suit of white

“The Man in Black” was written and recorded by singer-songwriter Johnny Cash in 1971. The lyrics of the song were intended as a protest against the treatment of the poor by wealthy politicians, the mass incarceration of the marginalized, and the tragedy of the Vietnam War. Fifty-two years later Cash’s words are still filled with relevance in the face of a world that is beset by unending suffering of the poor and the oppressed, the detention and rejection of men, women, and children yearning to find refuge and a new home in places that offer safety and hope, and the increasing terror of violence and war.

The need for a “Man in Black” persists.

Of course, the man in black represents the Light of Christ. A light that embodies God’s message intended for all. A light brought to us through the incarnation, the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ. A light that proclaims an unending message of hope and peace. 

The light of Christ is an extraordinary light. And whether we know it or not it is also a light that shines in each and every one of our hearts. It is God’s gift of light given to us at birth.

If only we realized the stunning importance of that light that shines deep within us. If only we felt called to shine our gift of light brightly to all we encounter. If only through the gift of our light we could become angels, messengers, of hope and peace. If only we could use our light to be “the man in black.”

Thomas Merton powerfully recounts finding this light that shines within us all in his book “Conjectures of a Guilty Bystander.” In one of its many reflective passages he writes, “In Louisville, at the corner of Fourth and Walnut, in the center of the shopping district, I was suddenly overwhelmed with the realization that I loved all these people, that they were mine and I theirs, that we could not be alien to one another even though we were total strangers.”

Later in the same passage he writes, “Then it was as if I suddenly saw the secret beauty of their hearts…the person that each one is in God’s eyes…At the center of our being is a point of nothingness which is untouched by sin, by illusion, a point of pure truth, a point or spark which belongs entirely to God…this little point…is the pure glory of God in us…it is like a pure diamond, blazing with the invisible light of heaven…it is in everybody, and if we could see it we would see these billions of points of light coming together…that would make all the cruelty of life vanish completely.”

Merton’s point of nothingness, a pure diamond blazing with the invisible light of heaven, and Johnny Cash’s man in black embody an identical message. We are all called to bring the Light of Christ into a world that is torn asunder by poverty, violence, terrorism, and war. 

Both Merton and Cash, each brilliant in their own way, each gifted in a uniquely powerful medium, boldly express the power that Christ’s light can have as it shines from that little point in our hearts, from that pure glory of God, into the lives of those who are suffering and oppressed. Their message to us is clear; we are all called to bring forth from our hearts the light of Christ. We are all called to be the Man in Black. We are all called to be one among a billion points of light. We are all called to heal a hurting world. 

In today’s collect we pray: Almighty God, you have poured upon us the new light of your incarnate Word: Grant that this light enkindled in our hearts, may shine through in our lives.

And then, in the exquisite opening hymn of John’s gospel, we hear the words “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God, and the Word was God…What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.”

“The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.” God’s promise that the darkness need not and indeed will not overcome because through the incarnation, the light created by God at the beginning of time will prevail.

In Genesis 1:3 God commanded, “Let there be light;” and “…there was light. And God saw that the light was good; and God separated the light from the darkness.” In John’s gospel Jesus proclaims, “He who follows me will not walk in the darkness but will have the light of life” (8:12). 

Thomas Merton writes, “this little point…is the pure glory of God in us…it is like a pure diamond, blazing with the invisible light of heaven…it is in everybody, and if we could see it, we would see these billions of points of light coming together…that would make all the cruelty of life vanish completely.”

As we approach Epiphany, we experience once again the sudden and amazing realization that in the birth of the baby Jesus God is made manifest to us.  The Christ child is God incarnate. The gift of the Christ child is the gift of God’s light made manifest to us. A light that we quickly come to realize as our light, as well. A light that has the power to separate the light from the darkness. A light that has the power to create a beam of hope that guides the world to a way of peace and love. 

Johnny Cash’s words are so important.

… Well, there's things that never will be right, I know
And things need changin' everywhere you go
But 'til we start to make a move to make a few things right

You'll never see me wear a suit of white. 

And so, this morning we pray:

Almighty God, you have poured upon us the new light of your incarnate Word: Grant that this light enkindled in our hearts, may shine through in our lives. AMEN

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Here I am

 

SERMON

December 24, 2023

Luke 1:26-38 

Over the past few weeks, I have participated in several Zoom meetings with the Archbishop of Jerusalem and the diocesan clergy who are serving churches in Ramallah and Nablus on the West Bank. The meetings, organized by the Episcopal Church’s Office of Government Relations, were and will continue to be, important windows into the work of that Diocese and the massive challenges its archbishop and clergy currently face as they continue to serve their congregations and community in the midst of war. 

These Zoom calls have been heart wrenching. Fr. Fadi, rector of St. Andrew’s in Ramallah, reported that the terror and profound grief experienced throughout the West Bank have left all of its citizens “in shock” and in the midst of a deep economic and spiritual crisis. Fr. Fadi’s parishioners wonder aloud in the midst of their prayers for peace, “Why is God silent.” Tears and terror are ongoing, unceasing throughout both day and night.

Fr. Jameel in Nablus reported that his congregation members and indeed the entire community of Nablus insist that “We all need hope”, but then quickly add, “Is there really any hope?” 

By the end of each of these Zoom calls we on the U.S. side have been left speechless and desperately seeking ways in which to reach out to these brothers and sisters, all members of the Anglican Communion. All God’s beloved children. These calls have been, and I am certain will continue to be incredibly painful and profoundly tragic experiences.

Despite the grim reality of their war-torn world, however, Frs. Fadi and Jameel along with their parishioners continue to express a fundamentally deep faith and commitment to Jesus Christ. They display, even in the face of such shockingly grim circumstances, a commitment to Christ that is most incredibly moving.

This deep faith and commitment to Christ was emotionally expressed by Fr. Jameel when he responded to the interviewer’s question, “Will you all want to relocate when it is possible?” saying “No, we will never move. We cannot desert this Holy Land. We cannot abandon Jesus. God is asking us to stay here.”

“We cannot abandon Jesus. God is asking us to stay here.” Very, very powerful words that can only stem from the courage, resilience, and commitment that is based on an extraordinary faith in God’s heavenly kingdom. 

Today we hear the incredibly beautiful and quite wondrous story of a young teenager’s life changed forever by the appearance of the Angel Gabriel. Can you imagine how frightened this innocent unmarried young woman must have been? In a flash her simple and settled life was filled with the unknown. Luke tells us that initially Mary was perplexed. She was stunned and bewildered. Who is this apparition? What is happening to me?

The apparition, the Angel Gabriel, understands Mary’s distress and offers calming words, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God.” The angel announces that Mary will now become pregnant. That her child will be a son. That he is to be named Jesus and that he is to be called the Son of the Most High. That he will reign over a kingdom. A kingdom that will have no end.

Mary, still perplexed, wonders aloud, “How can this be for I am still a virgin.” The angel responds, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy.”

Can you imagine how frightened and confused this young girl must have been? How terrifying for an apparition to inform you that God will send the Holy Spirit to come you and that as a result you will become pregnant. No marriage. No father. Just a baby who is destined to be, according to the apparition the Son of God; the Lord of a kingdom that will know no end.

What if an ancient interviewer had asked Mary, “Will you leave this place? Would you prefer to escape from this terrifying new reality that has become your life?” Mary, still perplexed, overwhelmed would have answered, “No. Here I am, the servant of the Lord; let it be according to [his] word. 

“Here I am, the servant of the Lord.” Mary’s commitment to God in this one brief sentence echoes the words of so many others tested by God throughout biblical history; Abraham, Sarah, Jacob, Moses, Hannah, Samuel, David, Esther, and the Prophets to name just a few, and now most certainly the clergy in the Diocese of Jerusalem.  Men and women chosen by God to ensure that his Holy Word, will be a continual presence throughout creation. Men and women who face perplexing, confusing, terrifying situations with courageous faith saying, God is asking us to stay here. God is asking us to ensure that his kingdom will know no end.

Mary’s obedience to God’s call should act as a hallmark for us Christians, the present-day stewards of Christ’s good news, the present-day heralds of God’s desire for us all to live a life filled with peace and love of self and neighbor, now and to the end of time.

Mary’s overcoming the apprehension, perhaps downright terror, at the sudden appearance of the Angel Gabriel and the announcement of her immanent pregnancy, her soon to be motherhood of a holy child despite her virgin status, is a model for those of us who are prayerfully striving to welcome God’s angel into the life of the St. Simon’s congregation, to hear his/her command for us.

And, once that commandment is heard, most assuredly in wonderment and fear of a journey into the unknown, will we as Mary say, “Here I am, the servant of the Lord; let it be according to [his] word?” Will we have the courage to act on God’s call for us as we enter a new year which promises to be filled with, as yet, many unidentified challenges?

The Jerusalem clergy’s commitment to courage, presence, and leadership in listening to and hearing in their hearts God’s call to remain in the Holy Land despite the anxiety and fear that was clearly visible in the recent Zoom calls. The continual prayer and commitment to Jesus Christ and his gospel of love demonstrated by their many congregation and community members despite the ongoing terror, death, and grief that is now a part of their 24/7 war-torn lives, these also are, most assuredly, models for those of us who question the challenges that God is commanding St. Simon’s to face at this moment in time. Will we in the face of such disruptive challenges say, “Here I am Lord; let it be according to your word?” 

This morning we arrive at the close of Advent. Four weeks of prayer and reflection during which we anticipated the arrival, once more, of the Christ child, the Son of the Holy One. This evening our period of anticipation ends, and we will joyfully celebrate the incarnation of God’s Word, Jesus Christ, who will walk with and among us throughout our journey with him to Jerusalem, to the cross, and beyond.

In celebration we will sing many beautiful hymns filled with words of wonder and praise. The service will end, as always, with the 205-year-old hymn Silent Night. As we sing this final hymn, we will light our individual candles in a darkened nave. The candles, of course, represent the Light of Christ. By lighting them we are committing to bring the Light of Christ into the world.

Silent Night, holy night, Son of God, loves pure light radiant beams from thy holy face with the dawn of redeeming grace, Jesus, Lord at thy birth, Jesus, Lord at thy birth.

Tonight, as our candles shine in the darkness let us pray that we will continue, as God’s community at St. Simon’s, to seek his command of how best to be the radiant beams of Christ’s holy face, the Light of Christ in the world. How we will face and overcome the challenges of taking our candles, our little stars of light, out of these four walls and into the community?

My Lord God, I have no idea where I am going.
I do not see the road ahead of me.
I cannot know for certain where it will end.
Nor do I really know myself,
and the fact that I think I am following your will
does not mean that I am actually doing so.
But I believe that the desire to please you
does in fact please you.
And I hope I have that desire in all that I am doing.
I hope that I will never do anything apart from that desire.
And I know that, if I do this,
You will lead me by the right road,
though I may know nothing about it.
Therefore I will trust you always
though I may seem to be lost
and in the shadow of death.
I will not fear, for you are ever with me,
and you will never leave me to face my perils alone.

Thomas Merton