THE DOOR IS OPEN
We celebrate the Feast of the Epiphany today.
We celebrate with this magnificent new wall hanging
created by Betty Hayes, one of our parishioners.
The three wise men following the star,
bringing their gifts.
And we too have brought gifts.
Our manger overflows with gifts-diaperes, baby food, clothes--
for the babies in our own community.
I love the season of Epiphany.
It is truly a joyful and light fillied season,
a season of the heart,
which does not allow us
to suffocate ourselves or others with facts.
Because you see so many of the “facts” about Epiphany—
well, they’re not really “facts” at all.
For example,
We sing the hymn (which I love!)
“We three kings.”
There is not one word in scripture
that says these men are kings.
Perhaps when you heard Matthew’s gospel,
you were thinking,
Hmmm…it must be in one of the other gospels
Where we are told these men are kings.
Nope!
The story of the three wise men
is only found in one gospel—Matthew.
And yes, it only says they are wise men—
it never says kings.
Our tradition has made them kings—
probably because of the extravagant gifts they bring—
gold, frankincense and myrrh.
And where are the camels?
In most of our crèche scenes,
the wise men are always traveling with their camels.
Sorry. Not factual.
Not one word in Matthew’s gospel
about a camel—not even a donkey in this story.
(Betty got it right in her wall hanging—
the wise men are walking!)
Tradition-- but not scripture—
also gives us the names of these kings—
Balthazar
(some stories tell us he was King of Arabia)
Melchior
(he was the elderly one with the grey hair—
King of Persia)
And finally Caspar
(though sometimes you see his name written
as Gaspar or even Jasper)—
he was the young one, King of India.
Of course these names are not in the Bible.
But they have become part of the story.
And then there is that number: three.
Scripture never tells us there are three of them.
They are simply referred to as “wise men from the East.”
Orthodox tradition says there were 12 of them.
Some stories say there were 40 or 50 of them.
Our western tradition says three—
probably because there are three gifts
and we assume
they would each want to have their own gift.
After all, who wants to show up to see the Messiah
and have to say,
“Well Melchior and I went in together
on your present!"
And about that baby.
Nope. Not a baby.
A “child” says scripture and that would be more accurate
Because let’s face it—if the wise men were walking,
by the time they arrived,
Jesus was proably starting to walk as well.
Not a baby in a manger
but a toddler
by the time they arrive.
But you see,
It is not about facts.
The truth is we don’t know the facts.
The truth is that we sometimes read scripture
and fill in the missing parts to fill in the story.
But that’s okay.
Because things don’t have to be factual
to be deeply true.
Epiphany is about shining the light
on something that is far bigger
than any collection of facts.
Epiphany comes from a Greek word which means
“manifestation” or “showing forth.”
Epiphany is the light bulb that goes off
over the cartoon character’s head.
Epiphany is the church season filled with AHA! moments.
The big AHA! of this church season is that
God has come into the world as a human being.
Divinity has morphed with humanity
And it’s a definite WOW!
The AHA! of Epiphany is that anyone—absolutely anyone—
who wants to seek God
is welcome on the journey.
The wise men were from the East—they weren’t part of the inner circle—
They were the ultimate outsiders—
Gentiles—maybe even pagans.
Yet here they are in Luke’s gospel,
in Jesus’ story,
in our story.
All are welcome.
Epiphany reminds us that God does not hide from us.
God does not play favorites.
God is with us.
with all of us.
God wants to be found.
The psychologist Carl Jung, had these words
carved over the front door of his home in Zurich:
“Bidden or unbidden, God is here.”
Later he had those same words
carved on his tombstone.
Bidden or unbidden,
God is here.
God is manifest.
God is revealed.
Even when we may not see it.
Epiphany reminds us that God appears
in even the most mundane moments,
to even the most ordinary people.
We do not have to be a king
or ride a camel
or have a name like Balthazar
or have gold to offer.
We are simply invited to come, to seek, to journey.
We are called to pay attention,
to take notice.
Epiphany is the season when all the lights are turned on:
All the better to see you with, God.
God has jumped into the world as a baby—
not as a king,
not as a person of wealth or prestige—
but as a helpless, poopy little baby.
God jumps in as a baby at Christmas
and when Epiphany arrives,
when those magi (and we)
show up,
God shouts, with great joy, “Come in! Oh, do come in!
The door is open. Wide open.”
Epiphany is when we realize
that the door is always open,
the table always has room for one more,
and we are all invited to the party.
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Sunday, January 3, 2010
Sermon for Year C Christmas 2
…I do not cease to give thanks for you as I remember you in my prayers…
I do not cease to give thanks for you as I remember you in my prayers…
Those are the words Paul uses
in his letter to his friends in Ephesus.
Hold on to those words as I tell you this story.
The time was the depression.
Her husband had gone off to try to find work.
He had left his wife and his children
with the hope
that he could find a job
and send back some money.
The days turned into weeks, the weeks turned into a month.
And still, there was no word and no money and no husband.
Soon there was no food.
She did not know what to do.
Her children were hungry.
She was hungry.
Finally she swallowed her pride—as hard to do in those days as it is today—
and walked the three miles to the general store.
She waited until no one else was around
before she approached the store manager.
Her husband knew him.
They had gone to school together--
grew up in these mountains together,
just one holler apart.
But they had never been friends.
Hard times seem to soften the hearts of some--
but not so with this man.
His heart had seemed to harden even more as times got harder.
He hadn’t built this general store’s business by giving credit.
That’s for sure.
Even as a boy he had taken some pride,
joking at the school Christmas party one year,
that his hero Ebenezer Scrooge—
the BEFORE version of Scrooge—he boasted.
He had one goal in life: to make money.
He had done pretty well with that goal.
She was a little afraid of him—
his face wore a sour scowl
and his words were usually sharp and mean.
But she had no choice.
She had hungry children and no food and no money.
That morning when she sat down to read her Bible,
she took a piece of paper and wrote a prayer.
She folded the paper and put it in the pocket of her sweater.
She knew what she had to do.
She made her way down the road to the store
and when the store was empty
except for her and the sour faced manager,
she timidly approached the old wooden counter where he stood.
“Excuse me, could you…”
“Speak up, woman! I can’t hear you if you mumble!”
She swallowed hard and began again.
“Could you give me some food on credit? My children are hun…”
But before she got the words out, he snapped,
“I don’t give credit. Never have. Never will.”
She was silent. Normally, she would have turned and fled.
But something inside her gave her strength and she retorted,
“Okay. Fine.
Then will you please just GIVE me some food for my children.”
His mouth dropped open and he stared at her.
Had he heard correctly?
GIVE her some food? Was she asking him to give her food—for free?!!!
She reached into her sweater pocket, fumbling for a piece of folded paper.
“I wrote out this prayer this morning and…”
He snorted and snatched the piece of paper from her hand.
“A prayer,” he replied.
“ I tell you what. I’ll put your prayer on this side of the scale
and then I’ll GIVE you the same amount of food
that prayer weighs. A prayer!” he scoffed.
He still used an old balancing scale at the general store
You wanted 5 pounds of sugar?
He’d set a five pound weight on the one side,
and measure out the sugar in a sack on the other side
until the scale balanced.
He took all the weights off
and laid her crumpled prayer on one side of the balance scale.
Her heart sank. She knew a piece of paper would hardly weigh anything.
Just to be cruel, the store manager grabbed a five pound sack of flour
and laid it on the balance scale across from the prayer.
I’ll show this beggar, he thought.
But…what?!!!
He couldn’t believe his eyes.
The scale was showing that the piece of paper with her scribbled prayer
was heavier than a 5 pound bag of flour.
He laid on a piece of fatback, then a small sack of sugar.
Still, the scale did not budge.
The crumpled paper with the prayer still showed that it was heavier.
The store manager shook and jiggled the scale.
The results were the same.
He grabbed a dozen eggs and balanced them
on top of the flour, the sugar, the fatback.
This must be a trick. he thought.
But when he glanced at the woman
she seemed as astounded as he was.
He piled on a small sack of dried beans—
carefully so as not to break the eggs.
He couldn’t take it any longer.
He grabbed a box from beneath the counter and loaded up all the food into the box.
“Here,” he said gruffly. “Just take this and get out.”
She started to say something but hesitated.
She took the box and started toward the door.
Thank you, she said.
Thank you.
He scowled and motioned her to leave.
She did. She left with her box of food.
He just didn’t understand it.
That scale had worked just fine all morning.
What was going on?
He shook it again—
and then realized the scale was broken.
Well, no wonder he thought.
He grabbed the piece of paper ,
walked over to the pot belly stove that heated the store,
opened the door to toss the scrap of paper in to burn—
but stopped.
He unfolded the paper and read the prayer the woman had written—
“Please Lord,
give us this day our daily bread.”
He read the words again.
He closed the door of the stove.
He sat down on a wooden bench next to the stove
and read the prayer again.
Give us this day our daily bread.
It had been a long long time since he had heard those words.
What a strange coincidence that the scales had broken
right when he began to weigh out the food.
He folded the paper and tucked it in the pocket of his work apron.
Give us this day our daily bread.
Who would believe
that God would work through such a despicable old man?
Who would believe
that God would work through someone so selfish
to feed someone who was hungry?
Who would believe
that God would use him
to answer a prayer?
Who would believe?
Paul writes to the Ephesians:
…I do not cease to give thanks for you as I remember you in my prayers…
The woman and her children gave thanks for the store manager every day—
long after the box of food was emptied,
long after her husband, their father returned home.
And the store manager?
He never ceased giving thanks for the woman
and her crumbled piece of paper
showing up in his store that day.
He kept that prayer tucked in his work apron pocket.
He never ceased giving thanks
for God showing him
how much doing one good thing—even accidentally—
could change you
and the way you chose to live your life.
The woman and the store manager
never ceased giving thanks
for God teaching them
how much prayer weighs.
…I do not cease to give thanks for you..
to give thanks for you
as I remember you in my prayers.
+ + +
Note: I rarely preach on the epistle but could not get away from this line this week. The basis for the story I tell appears in many forms--much shorter--on the internet and on several preaching aids sites. I never could find the origin and I shaped the story to fit the mountains and some people and stories I know. I'm not sure anything is more important than prayer.
I do not cease to give thanks for you as I remember you in my prayers…
Those are the words Paul uses
in his letter to his friends in Ephesus.
Hold on to those words as I tell you this story.
The time was the depression.
Her husband had gone off to try to find work.
He had left his wife and his children
with the hope
that he could find a job
and send back some money.
The days turned into weeks, the weeks turned into a month.
And still, there was no word and no money and no husband.
Soon there was no food.
She did not know what to do.
Her children were hungry.
She was hungry.
Finally she swallowed her pride—as hard to do in those days as it is today—
and walked the three miles to the general store.
She waited until no one else was around
before she approached the store manager.
Her husband knew him.
They had gone to school together--
grew up in these mountains together,
just one holler apart.
But they had never been friends.
Hard times seem to soften the hearts of some--
but not so with this man.
His heart had seemed to harden even more as times got harder.
He hadn’t built this general store’s business by giving credit.
That’s for sure.
Even as a boy he had taken some pride,
joking at the school Christmas party one year,
that his hero Ebenezer Scrooge—
the BEFORE version of Scrooge—he boasted.
He had one goal in life: to make money.
He had done pretty well with that goal.
She was a little afraid of him—
his face wore a sour scowl
and his words were usually sharp and mean.
But she had no choice.
She had hungry children and no food and no money.
That morning when she sat down to read her Bible,
she took a piece of paper and wrote a prayer.
She folded the paper and put it in the pocket of her sweater.
She knew what she had to do.
She made her way down the road to the store
and when the store was empty
except for her and the sour faced manager,
she timidly approached the old wooden counter where he stood.
“Excuse me, could you…”
“Speak up, woman! I can’t hear you if you mumble!”
She swallowed hard and began again.
“Could you give me some food on credit? My children are hun…”
But before she got the words out, he snapped,
“I don’t give credit. Never have. Never will.”
She was silent. Normally, she would have turned and fled.
But something inside her gave her strength and she retorted,
“Okay. Fine.
Then will you please just GIVE me some food for my children.”
His mouth dropped open and he stared at her.
Had he heard correctly?
GIVE her some food? Was she asking him to give her food—for free?!!!
She reached into her sweater pocket, fumbling for a piece of folded paper.
“I wrote out this prayer this morning and…”
He snorted and snatched the piece of paper from her hand.
“A prayer,” he replied.
“ I tell you what. I’ll put your prayer on this side of the scale
and then I’ll GIVE you the same amount of food
that prayer weighs. A prayer!” he scoffed.
He still used an old balancing scale at the general store
You wanted 5 pounds of sugar?
He’d set a five pound weight on the one side,
and measure out the sugar in a sack on the other side
until the scale balanced.
He took all the weights off
and laid her crumpled prayer on one side of the balance scale.
Her heart sank. She knew a piece of paper would hardly weigh anything.
Just to be cruel, the store manager grabbed a five pound sack of flour
and laid it on the balance scale across from the prayer.
I’ll show this beggar, he thought.
But…what?!!!
He couldn’t believe his eyes.
The scale was showing that the piece of paper with her scribbled prayer
was heavier than a 5 pound bag of flour.
He laid on a piece of fatback, then a small sack of sugar.
Still, the scale did not budge.
The crumpled paper with the prayer still showed that it was heavier.
The store manager shook and jiggled the scale.
The results were the same.
He grabbed a dozen eggs and balanced them
on top of the flour, the sugar, the fatback.
This must be a trick. he thought.
But when he glanced at the woman
she seemed as astounded as he was.
He piled on a small sack of dried beans—
carefully so as not to break the eggs.
He couldn’t take it any longer.
He grabbed a box from beneath the counter and loaded up all the food into the box.
“Here,” he said gruffly. “Just take this and get out.”
She started to say something but hesitated.
She took the box and started toward the door.
Thank you, she said.
Thank you.
He scowled and motioned her to leave.
She did. She left with her box of food.
He just didn’t understand it.
That scale had worked just fine all morning.
What was going on?
He shook it again—
and then realized the scale was broken.
Well, no wonder he thought.
He grabbed the piece of paper ,
walked over to the pot belly stove that heated the store,
opened the door to toss the scrap of paper in to burn—
but stopped.
He unfolded the paper and read the prayer the woman had written—
“Please Lord,
give us this day our daily bread.”
He read the words again.
He closed the door of the stove.
He sat down on a wooden bench next to the stove
and read the prayer again.
Give us this day our daily bread.
It had been a long long time since he had heard those words.
What a strange coincidence that the scales had broken
right when he began to weigh out the food.
He folded the paper and tucked it in the pocket of his work apron.
Give us this day our daily bread.
Who would believe
that God would work through such a despicable old man?
Who would believe
that God would work through someone so selfish
to feed someone who was hungry?
Who would believe
that God would use him
to answer a prayer?
Who would believe?
Paul writes to the Ephesians:
…I do not cease to give thanks for you as I remember you in my prayers…
The woman and her children gave thanks for the store manager every day—
long after the box of food was emptied,
long after her husband, their father returned home.
And the store manager?
He never ceased giving thanks for the woman
and her crumbled piece of paper
showing up in his store that day.
He kept that prayer tucked in his work apron pocket.
He never ceased giving thanks
for God showing him
how much doing one good thing—even accidentally—
could change you
and the way you chose to live your life.
The woman and the store manager
never ceased giving thanks
for God teaching them
how much prayer weighs.
…I do not cease to give thanks for you..
to give thanks for you
as I remember you in my prayers.
+ + +
Note: I rarely preach on the epistle but could not get away from this line this week. The basis for the story I tell appears in many forms--much shorter--on the internet and on several preaching aids sites. I never could find the origin and I shaped the story to fit the mountains and some people and stories I know. I'm not sure anything is more important than prayer.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Sermon for Christmas Eve Midnight Mass 2009
THOSE SHEPHERDS
They’re back.
They show up on occasion at other times of year
but every year on Christmas eve—
Here they are.
Those shepherds.
Keeping watch over their flocks.
Those shepherds
who are probably just barely awake
(after all much of shepherding is inherently boring).
They are rather like firemen.
They have to show up for that midnight shift IN CASE something happens,
In case there is a fire—
the firemen needs to be ready to spring into action.
In case there is a hungry wolf out for a midnight snack,
the shepherds need to be ready to spring into action.
They are there in case help is needed.
Just in case.
But those shepherds did not sign up to be the first to hear the good news
of God shattering the darkness
and coming into the world as a human baby.
The good news of Jesus Christ.
Why on earth would that news
be first revealed to shepherds in the middle of the night?
What was God thinking
sending big news like this to marginal people like those shepherds?
This is probably the last things those shepherds
expected in the middle of the night.
An angel appearing in a field?
An angel coming to them ?
What is God thinking?
What is God thinking when angels are sent to us?
Angels come in so many shapes and sizes, forms and formats.
They seldom announce or introduce themselves –
We don’t get a message on Facebook that says,
There’s an angel that has asked to be your friend.
Confirm or ignore?
Angels often just appear out of nowhere,
show up and stand right before us.
If you notice in the scripture of Luke’s gospel—
no where does the angel say,
Hello shepherds. I am angel. Sent here from God.
The angel just says, Do not be afraid.
The angel just says,
I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people.
For all the people.
We are so afraid
to believe in this good news of great joy.
We are so afraid
of being disappointed or naïve or foolish—or a religious fanatic.
We are so afraid
to trust and believe that God would really send us any kind of angel.
We think so little of ourselves
that we cannot conceive that God might want us—me! You!—
to know the great joy of this good news.
We need an angel to come to all of us and say,
Do not be afraid of angels.
Do not be afraid of good news.
Do not be afraid of great joy.
It can happen!
Angels point the way for us.
Angels show up when we have lost our power and sit in darkness--
they turn on the lights.
Angels appear in many forms and formats.
As humans, as animals, as a line in a song or a character in a film,
as we gaze at a painting or stand on top of a mountain
or hold the hand of someone who is dying.
Do not be afraid.
The news is good.
The joy is great.
And the good news and great joy are for ALL the people.
All the people.
Do not be afraid.
This week I heard a poem on Garrison Keillor’s radio program
The Writer’s Almanac.
It is a poem by Anne Porter
Her poem titled Susanna.
Here is the poem:
Nobody in the hospital
Could tell the age
Of this old woman who
Was called Susanna.
I knew she spoke some English
And that she was an immigrant
Out of a little country
Trampled by armies.
Because she had no visitors
I would stop by to see her
But she was always sleeping.
All I could do
Was to get out her comb
And carefully untangle
The tangles of her hair
One day I was beside her
When she woke up
Opening small dark eyes
Of a surprising clearness.
She looked at me and said
You want to know the truth?
I answered Yes.
She said it is something that
My mother told me
There’s not a single inch
Of our whole body
That the Lord does not love
She then went back to sleep.
That is Anne Porter’s poem “Susanna”.
There’s not a single inch
Of our whole body
That the Lord does not love.
There are parts of our bodies and parts of our lives and parts of our world
that we do not love.
But it is so different for God.
God’s love is so immense, so encompassing,
that God loves every single inch of us and of the world.
Tonight we celebrate the birth of a baby
A baby who comes into the world
to remind us that there are only two things—
two things-- that matter in life:
Loving God
and loving one another.
We fret and worry about so many things,
when only two things matter.
Loving God.
Loving one another.
.Oh this holy night—
this night of Christ’s mass—Christmas,
we are called to go out into the world—
to go tell it on the mountain--
and to say,
Do not be afraid.
Hope is born into the world.
Love is here to show us the way.
Love for every inch of us,
for every one of us.
Good news of great joy for all the people.
Merry Christmas!
They’re back.
They show up on occasion at other times of year
but every year on Christmas eve—
Here they are.
Those shepherds.
Keeping watch over their flocks.
Those shepherds
who are probably just barely awake
(after all much of shepherding is inherently boring).
They are rather like firemen.
They have to show up for that midnight shift IN CASE something happens,
In case there is a fire—
the firemen needs to be ready to spring into action.
In case there is a hungry wolf out for a midnight snack,
the shepherds need to be ready to spring into action.
They are there in case help is needed.
Just in case.
But those shepherds did not sign up to be the first to hear the good news
of God shattering the darkness
and coming into the world as a human baby.
The good news of Jesus Christ.
Why on earth would that news
be first revealed to shepherds in the middle of the night?
What was God thinking
sending big news like this to marginal people like those shepherds?
This is probably the last things those shepherds
expected in the middle of the night.
An angel appearing in a field?
An angel coming to them ?
What is God thinking?
What is God thinking when angels are sent to us?
Angels come in so many shapes and sizes, forms and formats.
They seldom announce or introduce themselves –
We don’t get a message on Facebook that says,
There’s an angel that has asked to be your friend.
Confirm or ignore?
Angels often just appear out of nowhere,
show up and stand right before us.
If you notice in the scripture of Luke’s gospel—
no where does the angel say,
Hello shepherds. I am angel. Sent here from God.
The angel just says, Do not be afraid.
The angel just says,
I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people.
For all the people.
We are so afraid
to believe in this good news of great joy.
We are so afraid
of being disappointed or naïve or foolish—or a religious fanatic.
We are so afraid
to trust and believe that God would really send us any kind of angel.
We think so little of ourselves
that we cannot conceive that God might want us—me! You!—
to know the great joy of this good news.
We need an angel to come to all of us and say,
Do not be afraid of angels.
Do not be afraid of good news.
Do not be afraid of great joy.
It can happen!
Angels point the way for us.
Angels show up when we have lost our power and sit in darkness--
they turn on the lights.
Angels appear in many forms and formats.
As humans, as animals, as a line in a song or a character in a film,
as we gaze at a painting or stand on top of a mountain
or hold the hand of someone who is dying.
Do not be afraid.
The news is good.
The joy is great.
And the good news and great joy are for ALL the people.
All the people.
Do not be afraid.
This week I heard a poem on Garrison Keillor’s radio program
The Writer’s Almanac.
It is a poem by Anne Porter
Her poem titled Susanna.
Here is the poem:
Nobody in the hospital
Could tell the age
Of this old woman who
Was called Susanna.
I knew she spoke some English
And that she was an immigrant
Out of a little country
Trampled by armies.
Because she had no visitors
I would stop by to see her
But she was always sleeping.
All I could do
Was to get out her comb
And carefully untangle
The tangles of her hair
One day I was beside her
When she woke up
Opening small dark eyes
Of a surprising clearness.
She looked at me and said
You want to know the truth?
I answered Yes.
She said it is something that
My mother told me
There’s not a single inch
Of our whole body
That the Lord does not love
She then went back to sleep.
That is Anne Porter’s poem “Susanna”.
There’s not a single inch
Of our whole body
That the Lord does not love.
There are parts of our bodies and parts of our lives and parts of our world
that we do not love.
But it is so different for God.
God’s love is so immense, so encompassing,
that God loves every single inch of us and of the world.
Tonight we celebrate the birth of a baby
A baby who comes into the world
to remind us that there are only two things—
two things-- that matter in life:
Loving God
and loving one another.
We fret and worry about so many things,
when only two things matter.
Loving God.
Loving one another.
.Oh this holy night—
this night of Christ’s mass—Christmas,
we are called to go out into the world—
to go tell it on the mountain--
and to say,
Do not be afraid.
Hope is born into the world.
Love is here to show us the way.
Love for every inch of us,
for every one of us.
Good news of great joy for all the people.
Merry Christmas!
Sermon for Year C Christmas 1
Deck the Halls
As Episcopalians we wait out the four weeks of advent
without once singing “Joy to the World”---
at least not in church!
We wait.
We wait and then on Christmas eve
we burst into “those old familiar carols” with joy and gusto!
We wait.
But the good news is that when Christmas comes—
It stays for awhile.
Today we celebrate the first Sunday after Christmas.
Next week we’ll celebrate the second Sunday after Christmas.
We get to ponder and reflect upon the Christ child coming into the world
For several weeks.
“In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God.”
So we hear in John’s gospel today.
In the reading from Isaiah we hear
“I will greatly rejoice in the Lord;
my whole being shall exult in my God.”
Our psalm today begins,
“Hallelujah! How good it is to sing praises to our God!”
The psalm ends with a Hallelujah too!
(Not a one of us in this Saturday evening congregation
can hear HALLELUJAH! without thinking
of our friend Neil Monroe, right?!!!)
He is our HALLELUJAH man!
One song we seldom—maybe never—sing in church is “Deck the Halls”.
It doesn’t have any specific baby Jesus references—
or even Christian references.
I wanted to use this carol as the heart of my sermon today
because the last line:
Sing we joyous all together
Heedless of the wind and weather.
I am not sure we have been heedless of the wind and weather,
But we certainly understand how wind and weather
affects our worship schedule!
But back to DECK THE HALLS….
when I did a little research
I found that it is a Welsh dance tune.
It was actually traditionally sung on New Year’s Eve.
(That made me feel it was also quite appropriate
for this evening’s service—
with New Year’s eve only 4 days away)
Carolers would dance in a circle around a harpist.
Now those of us that went on the Wales pilgrimage in 2008
remember well Llio a magnificent harpist
who played for us one evening
at the Royal Goat Hotel in Beddgelert.
Where we now sing fa la la la—
that was actually the harpist’s part.
Deck the halls with boughs of holly, sang the dancing singers--
And the harp would sing back fa la la la la
la la la la.
This Welsh carol—known as NOS GALAN (which means NEW YEAR)—became a Christmas carol in the late part of the 19th century,
the Victorian period when Christmas was re-invented in a sense.
So here we are in the season of Christmas.
It is truly a time of joy and rejoicing and happiness—
And when we hear those words—fa la la la la—
It’s almost as if someone was making up words—
Plucking out some little notes of joy!
The words to the carol don’t matter.
Because the Word has been made flesh and come into our world--
and nothing will ever be the same.
Nothing.
What matters is that we sing joyfully and loudly.
What matters is that we toss away our inhibitions
And do a little dance of joy—
(don’t be alarmed—I am not going to make you dance here—
but when you get back home—rejoice! Dance!
Sing out your fa la la las and dance with joy and delight.
Back to those last lines—
Sing we joyous all together
Heedless of the wind and weather.
For awhile there
it looked like we wouldn’t be having any Christmas services.
That we were going to be snowed out, frozen out.
We managed to have both services on Christmas eve
But Christmas morning was too icy, the roads too dangerous—
So the service was cancelled.
I have never had to cancel a service before—
It was disappointing.
But it was also okay.
Because even when we cannot come together in the same physical place,
we are still bound together by God.
Sing we joyous all together, heedless of the wind and weather.
Christmas is the season of great joy.
Hope has come to live in the world
and that hope promises never to leave us.
Wherever we may be
Christ is never cancelled!
Fa la la la la la la!
(Source for history of the Deck the Halls: The Penguin Book of Carols, edited by Ian Bradley)
DECK THE HALLS
Deck the halls with boughs of holly
‘Tis the season to be jolly
Don we now our gay apparel
Troll the ancient Yule-tide carol.
See the blazing Yule before us,
Strike the harp and join the chorus,
Follow me in merry measure,
While I tell of Yule-tide treasure.
Fast away the old year passes,
Hail the new, ye lads and lasses,
Sing we joyous all together,
Heedless of the wind and weather.
As Episcopalians we wait out the four weeks of advent
without once singing “Joy to the World”---
at least not in church!
We wait.
We wait and then on Christmas eve
we burst into “those old familiar carols” with joy and gusto!
We wait.
But the good news is that when Christmas comes—
It stays for awhile.
Today we celebrate the first Sunday after Christmas.
Next week we’ll celebrate the second Sunday after Christmas.
We get to ponder and reflect upon the Christ child coming into the world
For several weeks.
“In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God.”
So we hear in John’s gospel today.
In the reading from Isaiah we hear
“I will greatly rejoice in the Lord;
my whole being shall exult in my God.”
Our psalm today begins,
“Hallelujah! How good it is to sing praises to our God!”
The psalm ends with a Hallelujah too!
(Not a one of us in this Saturday evening congregation
can hear HALLELUJAH! without thinking
of our friend Neil Monroe, right?!!!)
He is our HALLELUJAH man!
One song we seldom—maybe never—sing in church is “Deck the Halls”.
It doesn’t have any specific baby Jesus references—
or even Christian references.
I wanted to use this carol as the heart of my sermon today
because the last line:
Sing we joyous all together
Heedless of the wind and weather.
I am not sure we have been heedless of the wind and weather,
But we certainly understand how wind and weather
affects our worship schedule!
But back to DECK THE HALLS….
when I did a little research
I found that it is a Welsh dance tune.
It was actually traditionally sung on New Year’s Eve.
(That made me feel it was also quite appropriate
for this evening’s service—
with New Year’s eve only 4 days away)
Carolers would dance in a circle around a harpist.
Now those of us that went on the Wales pilgrimage in 2008
remember well Llio a magnificent harpist
who played for us one evening
at the Royal Goat Hotel in Beddgelert.
Where we now sing fa la la la—
that was actually the harpist’s part.
Deck the halls with boughs of holly, sang the dancing singers--
And the harp would sing back fa la la la la
la la la la.
This Welsh carol—known as NOS GALAN (which means NEW YEAR)—became a Christmas carol in the late part of the 19th century,
the Victorian period when Christmas was re-invented in a sense.
So here we are in the season of Christmas.
It is truly a time of joy and rejoicing and happiness—
And when we hear those words—fa la la la la—
It’s almost as if someone was making up words—
Plucking out some little notes of joy!
The words to the carol don’t matter.
Because the Word has been made flesh and come into our world--
and nothing will ever be the same.
Nothing.
What matters is that we sing joyfully and loudly.
What matters is that we toss away our inhibitions
And do a little dance of joy—
(don’t be alarmed—I am not going to make you dance here—
but when you get back home—rejoice! Dance!
Sing out your fa la la las and dance with joy and delight.
Back to those last lines—
Sing we joyous all together
Heedless of the wind and weather.
For awhile there
it looked like we wouldn’t be having any Christmas services.
That we were going to be snowed out, frozen out.
We managed to have both services on Christmas eve
But Christmas morning was too icy, the roads too dangerous—
So the service was cancelled.
I have never had to cancel a service before—
It was disappointing.
But it was also okay.
Because even when we cannot come together in the same physical place,
we are still bound together by God.
Sing we joyous all together, heedless of the wind and weather.
Christmas is the season of great joy.
Hope has come to live in the world
and that hope promises never to leave us.
Wherever we may be
Christ is never cancelled!
Fa la la la la la la!
(Source for history of the Deck the Halls: The Penguin Book of Carols, edited by Ian Bradley)
DECK THE HALLS
Deck the halls with boughs of holly
‘Tis the season to be jolly
Don we now our gay apparel
Troll the ancient Yule-tide carol.
See the blazing Yule before us,
Strike the harp and join the chorus,
Follow me in merry measure,
While I tell of Yule-tide treasure.
Fast away the old year passes,
Hail the new, ye lads and lasses,
Sing we joyous all together,
Heedless of the wind and weather.
Christmas Eve 2009--5 pm service
Rejoice—Reflect--Renew
Life is always a rich and steady time
when you are waiting for something to happen or to hatch.
So writes E.B. White in his children’s book, Charlotte's Web
Life is always a rich and steady time
when you are waiting for something to happen or to hatch.
That in many ways describes the season of Advent.
But look—all 4 candles on the Advent wreath are burning bright—and now the white candle in the middle is also burning bright.
The white candle is the Christ candle.
It is Christmas Eve.
This is the night we celebrate God coming into the world as a baby.
A human baby named Jesus.
A baby that changed the world—
and if we are open to that baby,
will change us.
Tonight is a wonderful night to ponder
how God has come into our own world, our own lives--
and keeps on coming.
Some of you may have seen the special
on television Sunday evening
about the Christmas decorating at the White House.
(And I thought greening a church was a big task!)
I was astounded to find out that
all the decorating at the White House
is done by volunteers.
That is true here at St. John’s as well.
Each year the White House, usually the First Lady,
selects a theme for the decorations.
This year’s theme is: Rejoice. Reflect. Renew.
Rejoice.
Reflect.
Renew.
Hold those words in your heart as you leave this place tonight.
Rejoice. Reflect. Renew.
What has God done in your life this year
that calls you to rejoice?
Think of your many blessings,
And don’t wait for everything to line up just perfectly—
REJOICE!
Give thanks and rejoice!
What has God done in your life this year
that has challenged you?
Think of those challenges and rather than be discouraged,
REFLECT.
How have those challenges made you stronger?
How have those challenges
brought you to your knees at times?
How have those challenges led you to discover a new path?
Renew.
Jesus comes into the world as a human being
to offer us hope for our own human being-ness.
Jesus comes to renew in us
all that good and hopeful and possible.
Ponder what is good.
Cling to everything
that offers you hope.
Believe that the impossible
can and will be made possible.
Rejoice.
Reflect.
Renew.
Something has happened.
Something has hatched.
Advent is over.
Christmas is here.
For me.
For you.
For the whole world
Merry Christmas!
Merry Christmas!
Life is always a rich and steady time
when you are waiting for something to happen or to hatch.
So writes E.B. White in his children’s book, Charlotte's Web
Life is always a rich and steady time
when you are waiting for something to happen or to hatch.
That in many ways describes the season of Advent.
But look—all 4 candles on the Advent wreath are burning bright—and now the white candle in the middle is also burning bright.
The white candle is the Christ candle.
It is Christmas Eve.
This is the night we celebrate God coming into the world as a baby.
A human baby named Jesus.
A baby that changed the world—
and if we are open to that baby,
will change us.
Tonight is a wonderful night to ponder
how God has come into our own world, our own lives--
and keeps on coming.
Some of you may have seen the special
on television Sunday evening
about the Christmas decorating at the White House.
(And I thought greening a church was a big task!)
I was astounded to find out that
all the decorating at the White House
is done by volunteers.
That is true here at St. John’s as well.
Each year the White House, usually the First Lady,
selects a theme for the decorations.
This year’s theme is: Rejoice. Reflect. Renew.
Rejoice.
Reflect.
Renew.
Hold those words in your heart as you leave this place tonight.
Rejoice. Reflect. Renew.
What has God done in your life this year
that calls you to rejoice?
Think of your many blessings,
And don’t wait for everything to line up just perfectly—
REJOICE!
Give thanks and rejoice!
What has God done in your life this year
that has challenged you?
Think of those challenges and rather than be discouraged,
REFLECT.
How have those challenges made you stronger?
How have those challenges
brought you to your knees at times?
How have those challenges led you to discover a new path?
Renew.
Jesus comes into the world as a human being
to offer us hope for our own human being-ness.
Jesus comes to renew in us
all that good and hopeful and possible.
Ponder what is good.
Cling to everything
that offers you hope.
Believe that the impossible
can and will be made possible.
Rejoice.
Reflect.
Renew.
Something has happened.
Something has hatched.
Advent is over.
Christmas is here.
For me.
For you.
For the whole world
Merry Christmas!
Merry Christmas!
Sermon for Year C Advent 3
The Advent Journey
It was cold,
and the wind made it bitterly cold.
It wasn’t so bad living on the streets,
especially if you could get away from the crowds,
especially if you could find a nice neighborhood,
like Haw Creek.
You could usually find a garage door left open
or even an unlocked tool shed.
You learned to sleep in spurts
and to wake up before dawn
so you could disappear.
She didn’t want to scare anyone
and she certainly didn’t want to deal with the police.
But it was so cold.
As she walked by the church—
St. John’s Episco—Epsico—something Church—
She wondered what that word meant—Episcopalian.
She didn’t know that word.
But she liked to stand out at the edge of the yard
and look at the stained glass window.
The blues and the yellows and the little bits of orange and red—
She loved the way it was lighted at night.
But it was so cold tonight.
She looked around and didn’t see anyone.
“I’ll just try the door,” she thought.
“ Maybe…maybe it might be unlocked.”
So she picked up her big black plastic bag
and slipped up through the shadows to the bright red double doors.
She looked around once more—no one in sight—
so gently, ever so gently she pulled on the door.
And it opened.
It opened!
She could feel warm air touching her face—
Ah! It felt sooo good!
she walked through the door
and quietly into the church with her black plastic sack.
The church was dark—except for the exit lights over the doorways,
and a little red candle up near the front of the church.
And that glowing stained glass window.
Oh! How she loved that window.
Was the door left unlocked on purpose, she wondered?
Or was it just an accident? Did someone forget to lock the door?
A lucky accident, for me she thought.
She moved into the church.
It was so peaceful.
Quiet. Safe.
“Holy. Holy. Holy”, she said in a soft voice.
She used to go to church.
But that was a long time ago.
Most people wouldn’t welcome her into a church these days—
not with the way she looked.
Besides, she was pretty sure they wouldn’t let her bring her bag inside--
and she didn’t go anywhere without that bag.
She sat her bag down and walked up to the front of the church.
She walked up to the altar and stood there.
Then she noticed the painting on the back wall of the church.
“What on earth…??” she wondered.
Didn’t look like any painting she had ever seen in a church before.
That painting.
“Looks like my life,” she said out loud.
“Looks like my thrown in the briar patch wilderness life.”
Everything was so clean and nice.
She didn’t have many encounters with clean and nice these days.
She peeked in the doors up near the altar
and found just what she was hoping
…ah! A bathroom!
What a luxury!
She made use of it immediately,
And then, after washing her hands,
she took a paper towel and carefully cleaned
and wiped dry the sink.
She walked down the dark little hallway
and saw all the pretty church dresses—
oh, they probably had another name--some fancy church word—
but they looked like little dresses to her.
She liked how the little dresses looked hanging there
so neatly in a row,
like they were all waiting in expectation
of what would come next.
She walked back into the church
and returned to where she had sat her sack down on the floor.
Friday night.
She wondered if church people came to work on Saturday morning.
She knew she would need to be up and out early—just in case.
She sat down in one of the rocking chairs.
How about that!
A church with comfortable chairs—she liked that.
and she liked the bright colors in the rug at her feet, too.
Her life didn’t have many bright colors these days.
Dirt and grime and darkness.
Those were her colors.
She opened her bag and peered inside.
All still there.
Good, she thought.
The bag was filled with shoes.
Yes, shoes.
She loved shoes.
You couldn’t have too many shoes.
The bag was heavy to carry around but she liked her bag full of shoes.
She never could figure out
why you would sometimes find a shoe
all by itself in the middle of the road,
or one shoe sitting all alone on a park bench.
But she never liked to see a shoe left behind.
So she adopted one shoe after another until she had a sack full.
All my lost little shoes.
She closed the bag and started to happily rock and rock and rock.
She had planned to go and stretch out on one of the pews,
but before she knew it she was asleep sitting in the rocking chair.
She had just rocked herself right to sleep.
Right there in that holy church.
+ + +
It was early Saturday morning when she pulled into the parking lot.
She was a brand new member of the altar guild
And this would be her first time setting up for the service
by herself.
She was a little nervous
So she wanted to get their early to give herself plenty of time.
Let’s see…it was 10 am and the service was at 5 pm
Yes, that should be PLENTY of time!
She grabbed her keys and went over to the church and unlocked the door.
When she pulled on the handle the door was locked.
Hmmm…she thought.
That’s strange.
She realized that when she had turned her key,
she had locked the door, not unlocked it.
The door must have already been unlocked she thought—
Oh well. It happens.
It wasn’t the first time someone had forgot to lock the door.
(Gee! I hope it wasn’t me she thought!)
She entered the narthex
and there in the middle of the floor was a big black plastic bag.
An empty bag.
What on earth?
Why would someone leave a plastic bag here in the middle of the floor?
She picked it up, folded it and laid it on the table.
She walked into the church---
and then she saw them.
Down the aisle, all around the altar.
Shoes.
Shoes of all colors and shapes and sizes.
Shoes.
How did this happen?
Where did all these shoes come from?
Stepping around and over the scattered shoes
She walked up to the altar.
There in the center of the altar was a paper towel
with something written on it.
It was difficult to read. What did it say?
She held it up to the light.
These were the words on the paper towel.
Thank you, Mr. St. John.
Thank you for being a place for all souls.
Even me.
She read the note again.
Did it say SOULS or SOLES?
She then burst out laughing.
All those shoes—must have made her read it S-o-l-e-s—like shoe soles!
She didn’t know who had left the shoes.
She didn’t even really know if the person who left the shoes
intended the pun on the word “souls,”
but she liked the image.
As she worked to set the altar for the Eucharist,
She kept thinking about shoes.
We’re rather like shoes, she thought.
God doesn’t care if we are open-toed or closed,
high-heeled or flat,
name-brand or bargain basement,
loafers or sneakers.
God doesn’t care about our shape or size or color.
It doesn’t even matter what roads
we have traveled to get to this place.
God just always seem glad we show up.
What matters is that we have found our way
and know that God has opened the door
and welcomed us in.
What matters is that we get re-souled/re-soled here at church,
Re-soled
to go out into the world again,
to continue our journey,
to keep walking—or running!
To give thanks and to keep asking God the question
the crowds asked John the Baptizer
“What then should we do?”
Where do you need us in the world, God?
What doors do you need us to unlock?
What souls do you need us to welcome into your church?
Where do you need us to cry aloud for those who are hungry and cold?
When do you need us to rejoice and sing your praises?
Stir up your power in our lives, O Lord,
so that we might proclaim the good news
not just by TELLING your story,
but by LIVING your story.
Thank you for welcoming all souls into your holy sanctuary.
Thank you for welcoming even me.
Even me.
This story was inspired by another story about a shoe maker and souls/soles by Doug Sloan, titled A CHRISTMAS PARABLE. You can read Doug’s story on the Network of Biblical Storytellers website.
It was cold,
and the wind made it bitterly cold.
It wasn’t so bad living on the streets,
especially if you could get away from the crowds,
especially if you could find a nice neighborhood,
like Haw Creek.
You could usually find a garage door left open
or even an unlocked tool shed.
You learned to sleep in spurts
and to wake up before dawn
so you could disappear.
She didn’t want to scare anyone
and she certainly didn’t want to deal with the police.
But it was so cold.
As she walked by the church—
St. John’s Episco—Epsico—something Church—
She wondered what that word meant—Episcopalian.
She didn’t know that word.
But she liked to stand out at the edge of the yard
and look at the stained glass window.
The blues and the yellows and the little bits of orange and red—
She loved the way it was lighted at night.
But it was so cold tonight.
She looked around and didn’t see anyone.
“I’ll just try the door,” she thought.
“ Maybe…maybe it might be unlocked.”
So she picked up her big black plastic bag
and slipped up through the shadows to the bright red double doors.
She looked around once more—no one in sight—
so gently, ever so gently she pulled on the door.
And it opened.
It opened!
She could feel warm air touching her face—
Ah! It felt sooo good!
she walked through the door
and quietly into the church with her black plastic sack.
The church was dark—except for the exit lights over the doorways,
and a little red candle up near the front of the church.
And that glowing stained glass window.
Oh! How she loved that window.
Was the door left unlocked on purpose, she wondered?
Or was it just an accident? Did someone forget to lock the door?
A lucky accident, for me she thought.
She moved into the church.
It was so peaceful.
Quiet. Safe.
“Holy. Holy. Holy”, she said in a soft voice.
She used to go to church.
But that was a long time ago.
Most people wouldn’t welcome her into a church these days—
not with the way she looked.
Besides, she was pretty sure they wouldn’t let her bring her bag inside--
and she didn’t go anywhere without that bag.
She sat her bag down and walked up to the front of the church.
She walked up to the altar and stood there.
Then she noticed the painting on the back wall of the church.
“What on earth…??” she wondered.
Didn’t look like any painting she had ever seen in a church before.
That painting.
“Looks like my life,” she said out loud.
“Looks like my thrown in the briar patch wilderness life.”
Everything was so clean and nice.
She didn’t have many encounters with clean and nice these days.
She peeked in the doors up near the altar
and found just what she was hoping
…ah! A bathroom!
What a luxury!
She made use of it immediately,
And then, after washing her hands,
she took a paper towel and carefully cleaned
and wiped dry the sink.
She walked down the dark little hallway
and saw all the pretty church dresses—
oh, they probably had another name--some fancy church word—
but they looked like little dresses to her.
She liked how the little dresses looked hanging there
so neatly in a row,
like they were all waiting in expectation
of what would come next.
She walked back into the church
and returned to where she had sat her sack down on the floor.
Friday night.
She wondered if church people came to work on Saturday morning.
She knew she would need to be up and out early—just in case.
She sat down in one of the rocking chairs.
How about that!
A church with comfortable chairs—she liked that.
and she liked the bright colors in the rug at her feet, too.
Her life didn’t have many bright colors these days.
Dirt and grime and darkness.
Those were her colors.
She opened her bag and peered inside.
All still there.
Good, she thought.
The bag was filled with shoes.
Yes, shoes.
She loved shoes.
You couldn’t have too many shoes.
The bag was heavy to carry around but she liked her bag full of shoes.
She never could figure out
why you would sometimes find a shoe
all by itself in the middle of the road,
or one shoe sitting all alone on a park bench.
But she never liked to see a shoe left behind.
So she adopted one shoe after another until she had a sack full.
All my lost little shoes.
She closed the bag and started to happily rock and rock and rock.
She had planned to go and stretch out on one of the pews,
but before she knew it she was asleep sitting in the rocking chair.
She had just rocked herself right to sleep.
Right there in that holy church.
+ + +
It was early Saturday morning when she pulled into the parking lot.
She was a brand new member of the altar guild
And this would be her first time setting up for the service
by herself.
She was a little nervous
So she wanted to get their early to give herself plenty of time.
Let’s see…it was 10 am and the service was at 5 pm
Yes, that should be PLENTY of time!
She grabbed her keys and went over to the church and unlocked the door.
When she pulled on the handle the door was locked.
Hmmm…she thought.
That’s strange.
She realized that when she had turned her key,
she had locked the door, not unlocked it.
The door must have already been unlocked she thought—
Oh well. It happens.
It wasn’t the first time someone had forgot to lock the door.
(Gee! I hope it wasn’t me she thought!)
She entered the narthex
and there in the middle of the floor was a big black plastic bag.
An empty bag.
What on earth?
Why would someone leave a plastic bag here in the middle of the floor?
She picked it up, folded it and laid it on the table.
She walked into the church---
and then she saw them.
Down the aisle, all around the altar.
Shoes.
Shoes of all colors and shapes and sizes.
Shoes.
How did this happen?
Where did all these shoes come from?
Stepping around and over the scattered shoes
She walked up to the altar.
There in the center of the altar was a paper towel
with something written on it.
It was difficult to read. What did it say?
She held it up to the light.
These were the words on the paper towel.
Thank you, Mr. St. John.
Thank you for being a place for all souls.
Even me.
She read the note again.
Did it say SOULS or SOLES?
She then burst out laughing.
All those shoes—must have made her read it S-o-l-e-s—like shoe soles!
She didn’t know who had left the shoes.
She didn’t even really know if the person who left the shoes
intended the pun on the word “souls,”
but she liked the image.
As she worked to set the altar for the Eucharist,
She kept thinking about shoes.
We’re rather like shoes, she thought.
God doesn’t care if we are open-toed or closed,
high-heeled or flat,
name-brand or bargain basement,
loafers or sneakers.
God doesn’t care about our shape or size or color.
It doesn’t even matter what roads
we have traveled to get to this place.
God just always seem glad we show up.
What matters is that we have found our way
and know that God has opened the door
and welcomed us in.
What matters is that we get re-souled/re-soled here at church,
Re-soled
to go out into the world again,
to continue our journey,
to keep walking—or running!
To give thanks and to keep asking God the question
the crowds asked John the Baptizer
“What then should we do?”
Where do you need us in the world, God?
What doors do you need us to unlock?
What souls do you need us to welcome into your church?
Where do you need us to cry aloud for those who are hungry and cold?
When do you need us to rejoice and sing your praises?
Stir up your power in our lives, O Lord,
so that we might proclaim the good news
not just by TELLING your story,
but by LIVING your story.
Thank you for welcoming all souls into your holy sanctuary.
Thank you for welcoming even me.
Even me.
This story was inspired by another story about a shoe maker and souls/soles by Doug Sloan, titled A CHRISTMAS PARABLE. You can read Doug’s story on the Network of Biblical Storytellers website.
Friday, June 12, 2009
Sermon for Trinity Sunday 2009
Here Am I, Send Me
Today we celebrate Trinity Sunday.
We celebrate the binding together of Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
Some might prefer Creator, Redeemer, Sustainer.
Whatever language rings true for us,
The message is the same:
this three in one and one in three,
dances together, inseparable.
Priest and writer Herbert O’Driscoll
calls it “the reality, power and ceaseless working”
of God in the world.
Today in our diocese we also celebrate Seminarian Sunday.
The Bishop has asked that our loose plate offering today
Go to a fund that will help our seminarians
with the expenses of their studies.
A good cause.
And one that fits quite nicely with our readings this morning.
All the scripture readings today
remind us of God’s continuing work in the world.
In Isaiah we have a powerful and beautiful vision
of what it is to be called by God.
In Paul’s letter we are told that if we allow ourselves to be led by the Spirit
we will be freed from our self-centeredness
And discover what it is to really live.
In John’s Gospel we meet Nicodemus—
an intellectual,
a man with many questions—
and a man with deep spiritual hunger.
Jesus is not afraid of questions—
especially from those who are struggling
to find their way in the dark.
It is easy to think that God only uses some of us.
Only some are called to the priesthood.
Only some are intellectuals struggling with theology.
Only some are worthy of God’s call.
God only wants and needs some of us.
Wrong. So wrong.
God needs all of us.
Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?
And I said, “Here I am, send me!”
Here I am. Send me.
Those are the words God longs to hear us say.
I want to tell you a true story that I read in the magazine Christianity Today:
Marion Mill was born in a fairy tale royal palace in Hungary.
Her first spoon was sold gold. Truly. Solid gold.
Her parents sent her to school in Vienna
Where she became an actress.
There she met and fell in love
with a young medical student named Otto.
Otto and Marion married and moved to Hollywood, California.
Otto began to dabble in movies.
He became so interested in movies
that he gave up his medical practice.
Otto went on to become a very famous movie director.
Otto Preminger.
Marion's beauty, her wit, and her irresistible charm
brought her everything. All her heart’s desires.
In Europe, New York and
Hollywood she became a famous international hostess.
But there was a problem.
Marion could not handle the fast life of Hollywood.
Her life became a storm of alcohol, drugs and numerous affairs.
Her life and her lifestyle sank into complete chaos,
even by Hollywood standards.
Otto Preminger finally divorced Marion.
She had several other unsuccessful marriages.
She tried to take her own life three times—unsuccessfully.
Finally she moved back to Vienna.
There at a party she met another doctor,
a doctor named Albert Schweitzer,
the well-known medical doctor,
musician, philosopher, theologian
and missionary.
Schweitzer was home on leave from his hospital
in Lambarene, Africa.
Marion was so fascinated by Schweitzer,
that she asked him if she could talk to him alone,
and he said yes.
For almost six months, every week,
she met with Dr. Albert Schweitzer.
At the end of that time he was going to go back to Africa,
and Marion begged him to let her go with him.
Schweitzer surprised everyone by agreeing.
Marion, the young princess, who was born in a palace,
Marion who had royally messed up a marriage
and a life of fame and privilege,
went to live in a little village
in Lambarene, Africa.
She spent much of the rest of her life
emptying bed pans
and tearing up sheets to make bandages
caring for on those
who were the poorest and most unprivileged.
She also raised money to support Schweitzer’s work in Africa.
Marion Mill Preminger grew up a spoiled, self-centered little girl
and became an equally spoiled self-centered woman.
But just as Nicodemus went in the night to Jesus
to try to understand what it means to be “born again,”
to have a life in God.
So Marion Preminger went to Albert Schweitzer,
to try to understand
what it was that gives life meaning.
She wrote her autobiography.
I love the title of it---All I Want is Everything.
When she died, Time Magazine quoted from her autobiography these words:
"Albert Schweitzer says there are two kinds of people.
There are the helpers, and the non-helpers.
I thank God He allowed me to become a helper,
and in helping, I found
everything."
Helpers and non-helpers.
We choose.
God has a standing invitation open to all of us— to each one of us—
to come and be a part of God’s work in the world.
We make many excuses—
I’m too old, I’m too young,
I’m too poor, I’m too busy,
I’m too sick, I’m too unappreciated…
many, many excuses.
But excuses are just another way
of saying that we choose to be a non-helper.
We choose to say NO to God’s invitation.
We choose.
We all cannot go to Africa as a missionary.
Or even as a missionary’s helper.
But all it takes is one brief glance around us in the world
to find something we can do.
If not in the wide world,
in our community or in our church or in our school,
in our workplace or in our own family.
We can make a difference—
IF we are willing.
IF we are willing to say YES,
and join in the immense, diverse and amazing work of God.
Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?
Here I am.
Send me.
Send me.
Send me.
Today we celebrate Trinity Sunday.
We celebrate the binding together of Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
Some might prefer Creator, Redeemer, Sustainer.
Whatever language rings true for us,
The message is the same:
this three in one and one in three,
dances together, inseparable.
Priest and writer Herbert O’Driscoll
calls it “the reality, power and ceaseless working”
of God in the world.
Today in our diocese we also celebrate Seminarian Sunday.
The Bishop has asked that our loose plate offering today
Go to a fund that will help our seminarians
with the expenses of their studies.
A good cause.
And one that fits quite nicely with our readings this morning.
All the scripture readings today
remind us of God’s continuing work in the world.
In Isaiah we have a powerful and beautiful vision
of what it is to be called by God.
In Paul’s letter we are told that if we allow ourselves to be led by the Spirit
we will be freed from our self-centeredness
And discover what it is to really live.
In John’s Gospel we meet Nicodemus—
an intellectual,
a man with many questions—
and a man with deep spiritual hunger.
Jesus is not afraid of questions—
especially from those who are struggling
to find their way in the dark.
It is easy to think that God only uses some of us.
Only some are called to the priesthood.
Only some are intellectuals struggling with theology.
Only some are worthy of God’s call.
God only wants and needs some of us.
Wrong. So wrong.
God needs all of us.
Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?
And I said, “Here I am, send me!”
Here I am. Send me.
Those are the words God longs to hear us say.
I want to tell you a true story that I read in the magazine Christianity Today:
Marion Mill was born in a fairy tale royal palace in Hungary.
Her first spoon was sold gold. Truly. Solid gold.
Her parents sent her to school in Vienna
Where she became an actress.
There she met and fell in love
with a young medical student named Otto.
Otto and Marion married and moved to Hollywood, California.
Otto began to dabble in movies.
He became so interested in movies
that he gave up his medical practice.
Otto went on to become a very famous movie director.
Otto Preminger.
Marion's beauty, her wit, and her irresistible charm
brought her everything. All her heart’s desires.
In Europe, New York and
Hollywood she became a famous international hostess.
But there was a problem.
Marion could not handle the fast life of Hollywood.
Her life became a storm of alcohol, drugs and numerous affairs.
Her life and her lifestyle sank into complete chaos,
even by Hollywood standards.
Otto Preminger finally divorced Marion.
She had several other unsuccessful marriages.
She tried to take her own life three times—unsuccessfully.
Finally she moved back to Vienna.
There at a party she met another doctor,
a doctor named Albert Schweitzer,
the well-known medical doctor,
musician, philosopher, theologian
and missionary.
Schweitzer was home on leave from his hospital
in Lambarene, Africa.
Marion was so fascinated by Schweitzer,
that she asked him if she could talk to him alone,
and he said yes.
For almost six months, every week,
she met with Dr. Albert Schweitzer.
At the end of that time he was going to go back to Africa,
and Marion begged him to let her go with him.
Schweitzer surprised everyone by agreeing.
Marion, the young princess, who was born in a palace,
Marion who had royally messed up a marriage
and a life of fame and privilege,
went to live in a little village
in Lambarene, Africa.
She spent much of the rest of her life
emptying bed pans
and tearing up sheets to make bandages
caring for on those
who were the poorest and most unprivileged.
She also raised money to support Schweitzer’s work in Africa.
Marion Mill Preminger grew up a spoiled, self-centered little girl
and became an equally spoiled self-centered woman.
But just as Nicodemus went in the night to Jesus
to try to understand what it means to be “born again,”
to have a life in God.
So Marion Preminger went to Albert Schweitzer,
to try to understand
what it was that gives life meaning.
She wrote her autobiography.
I love the title of it---All I Want is Everything.
When she died, Time Magazine quoted from her autobiography these words:
"Albert Schweitzer says there are two kinds of people.
There are the helpers, and the non-helpers.
I thank God He allowed me to become a helper,
and in helping, I found
everything."
Helpers and non-helpers.
We choose.
God has a standing invitation open to all of us— to each one of us—
to come and be a part of God’s work in the world.
We make many excuses—
I’m too old, I’m too young,
I’m too poor, I’m too busy,
I’m too sick, I’m too unappreciated…
many, many excuses.
But excuses are just another way
of saying that we choose to be a non-helper.
We choose to say NO to God’s invitation.
We choose.
We all cannot go to Africa as a missionary.
Or even as a missionary’s helper.
But all it takes is one brief glance around us in the world
to find something we can do.
If not in the wide world,
in our community or in our church or in our school,
in our workplace or in our own family.
We can make a difference—
IF we are willing.
IF we are willing to say YES,
and join in the immense, diverse and amazing work of God.
Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?
Here I am.
Send me.
Send me.
Send me.
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