You can listen to Sunday's sermon here.
Sunday, September 05, 2010
Sunday Sermon @ Grace - Whole Self In
Jesus the home wrecker, anti-consumerist, varsity coach invites us to jump into the deep end of the pool.
Peace!
Thursday, July 29, 2010
getting real with Jesus & each other
I preached today at Grace Cathedral's 12:10 Eucharist, I don't always type out my homilies but did today. So here it is.
Mary, Martha, and Lazarus of Bethany
John 11:1-7, 17-44
Today, the church honors a peculiar family of two sisters and brother. The strangeness doesn’t just lie in this arrangement, of two unmarried women needing the protection of a male relative in a patriarchal society. But strangely Jesus their rabbi, guru, healer and teacher with a revolutionaries following doesn’t race back to heal his friend. But instead delays his journey almost as though he’s wanting the situation to get worse for these vulnerable siblings. Talk about nonanxious pastoral presence, Jesus is nonanxiously absent from the scene.
With the typically confused disciples Jesus finally arrives at Mary and Martha’s. Lazarus has been dead 4 days and the whole community is gathered around in mourning. Martha and Mary both in their grief express frustration and disappointment with Jesus “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” You can feel the pain, the anger. As the story unfolds we see Jesus himself grieving the loss of his friend, and finally Jesus puts flesh on the words he said to Martha, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live.” Jesus asks that the stone of the tomb be rolled away and he cries out to the dead man “Lazarus, come out”, wrapped in strips of cloth, like someone in mummy costume Lazarus walks out.
This is one of the famous stories of our faith, prefiguring Jesus own resurrection from the dead. But what does this story, of confused, anxious disciples, disappointed, grieving sisters, curious, pesky neighbors, a dead man and Jesus have to say to us today?
I think this story reminds us that our journey of faith if we are really attentive to it, does not deny the reality of death, loss, confusion, disappointment or pain but helps give meaning and purpose to our lives and our deaths. This perplexing story tells us that those who were the closest to Jesus, his disciples and friends were often afraid, anxious, and disappointed -- and Jesus responds to their honest, blunt, and angry words with solidarity, compassion and care. Being close to Jesus means we can be real with him. This story can help us discover the presence of Jesus who raises the dead in the context of our actual daily lives --- not as an abstract, distant, far off, fancy concept but as a living reality rooted in the here and now, as part of a tangible community that breathes, weeps, cries, flexes its muscles, and rolls away stones together.
Jesus’ raising Lazarus is a provocative sign that God’s concern is real life, life with all its joys and sorrows, struggles and confusion. Jesus, the incarnate word made flesh --- that presence at that tomb, those tears, transforms the boundaries between life and death. Christ’s presence in our lives, at our tombs, in our tears, transforms the world not just in abstract and philosophical ways but in concrete, tangible actions of compassion and solidarity.
Being a follower of Jesus, means eventually showing up to the pain, oppression, sadness, disappointment, grief, complexity and confusion of our real lives wherever those dark places may be. As the saying goes there can be no Easter with out Good Friday, there can be no transformation with out pain, no true reconciliation with out truth telling, no hope with out grief.
Being close to Jesus means we can be real with Jesus. Being a faithful community means we can be real with each other. Martha and Mary, Lazarus too this families honesty, their raw vulnerability creates space for Christ to enter the picture and do holy transforming work in words, tears, and sweat. May we find the same courage to be ourselves, to be real with Jesus and with each other.
The queer Episcopal lay theologian celebrated by the Archbishop of Canterbury on his visit to our last General Convention said
Thank you Mary, Martha and Lazarus for showing us yourselves, for inviting us to be ourselves in our tears, at our tombs in all our confusions, longings, disappointments, sorrows and helping us discover Christ right there, right here with us.
Mary, Martha, and Lazarus of Bethany
John 11:1-7, 17-44
Today, the church honors a peculiar family of two sisters and brother. The strangeness doesn’t just lie in this arrangement, of two unmarried women needing the protection of a male relative in a patriarchal society. But strangely Jesus their rabbi, guru, healer and teacher with a revolutionaries following doesn’t race back to heal his friend. But instead delays his journey almost as though he’s wanting the situation to get worse for these vulnerable siblings. Talk about nonanxious pastoral presence, Jesus is nonanxiously absent from the scene.
With the typically confused disciples Jesus finally arrives at Mary and Martha’s. Lazarus has been dead 4 days and the whole community is gathered around in mourning. Martha and Mary both in their grief express frustration and disappointment with Jesus “Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died.” You can feel the pain, the anger. As the story unfolds we see Jesus himself grieving the loss of his friend, and finally Jesus puts flesh on the words he said to Martha, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live.” Jesus asks that the stone of the tomb be rolled away and he cries out to the dead man “Lazarus, come out”, wrapped in strips of cloth, like someone in mummy costume Lazarus walks out.
This is one of the famous stories of our faith, prefiguring Jesus own resurrection from the dead. But what does this story, of confused, anxious disciples, disappointed, grieving sisters, curious, pesky neighbors, a dead man and Jesus have to say to us today?
I think this story reminds us that our journey of faith if we are really attentive to it, does not deny the reality of death, loss, confusion, disappointment or pain but helps give meaning and purpose to our lives and our deaths. This perplexing story tells us that those who were the closest to Jesus, his disciples and friends were often afraid, anxious, and disappointed -- and Jesus responds to their honest, blunt, and angry words with solidarity, compassion and care. Being close to Jesus means we can be real with him. This story can help us discover the presence of Jesus who raises the dead in the context of our actual daily lives --- not as an abstract, distant, far off, fancy concept but as a living reality rooted in the here and now, as part of a tangible community that breathes, weeps, cries, flexes its muscles, and rolls away stones together.
Jesus’ raising Lazarus is a provocative sign that God’s concern is real life, life with all its joys and sorrows, struggles and confusion. Jesus, the incarnate word made flesh --- that presence at that tomb, those tears, transforms the boundaries between life and death. Christ’s presence in our lives, at our tombs, in our tears, transforms the world not just in abstract and philosophical ways but in concrete, tangible actions of compassion and solidarity.
Being a follower of Jesus, means eventually showing up to the pain, oppression, sadness, disappointment, grief, complexity and confusion of our real lives wherever those dark places may be. As the saying goes there can be no Easter with out Good Friday, there can be no transformation with out pain, no true reconciliation with out truth telling, no hope with out grief.
Being close to Jesus means we can be real with Jesus. Being a faithful community means we can be real with each other. Martha and Mary, Lazarus too this families honesty, their raw vulnerability creates space for Christ to enter the picture and do holy transforming work in words, tears, and sweat. May we find the same courage to be ourselves, to be real with Jesus and with each other.
The queer Episcopal lay theologian celebrated by the Archbishop of Canterbury on his visit to our last General Convention said
"Being holy, becoming and being a saint, does not mean being perfect but being whole; it does not mean being exceptionally religious, or being religious at all. It means being liberated from religiosity and religious pietism of any sort. It does not mean being godly, but rather being truly human."
-William Stringfellow, A Keeper of the Word
Thank you Mary, Martha and Lazarus for showing us yourselves, for inviting us to be ourselves in our tears, at our tombs in all our confusions, longings, disappointments, sorrows and helping us discover Christ right there, right here with us.
Monday, April 26, 2010
Gathered Lambs
You can listen to last Sunday's sermon here.
This little guy joined me in the pulpit.
I also mention, this event/book Jesus for President, you can see a video about the San Francisco part of the tour and a blog posting about what happened at Grace Cathedral on a Friday a few years back.
This little guy joined me in the pulpit.
I also mention, this event/book Jesus for President, you can see a video about the San Francisco part of the tour and a blog posting about what happened at Grace Cathedral on a Friday a few years back.
Sunday, April 18, 2010
I am still here.
It has been a long Sunday, and it is only 4:15 p.m. Today, Saint Cyprian's welcomed a new member into the household of God and celebrated the 95th birthday of one our community's oldest members. Below is the sermon I prepared to preach, but today with so much going on (more on that some other time) I didn't stick to it word for word.
Blessed Easter Three.
A few months short of a year ago, I called one of the oldest members of this congregation, Ruby McDowell to set up a visit with her, and one of the first things she said to me, very clearly and deliberately was “I’m still here.” Each time since that first phone call I have walked into her lovely home carrying communion from St. Cyprian’s, Ruby has said these words again and again “I am still here.” with clarity and commitment. There is a connection between the words of this amazing typical Jamaican as Ruby calls herself --- “I am still here” and the powerful proclamation that Christians throughout the world make again and again about Jesus’ resurrection, “Alleluia, Christ is Risen.” Just as her beloved St. Cyprian’s Church says again and again to everyone who passes her by, or walks into her doors, or hears about something new going on within, we say clearly and deliberately “we are still here.” “Alleluia, Christ is Risen” Resurrection is about the persistent and insistent Spirit of God made known to us in Jesus, it’s a belief that despite all evidence to the contrary there is a powerful life force lifting us and all creation up, giving us hope, giving us peace and helping us embrace change. Jesus says to us in the resurrection, just as Ruby does, just as this little church does “I am still here.” Despite all the challenges, pain, sadness, betrayal and disappointment of life, the Risen Christ persistently and insistently clearly and deliberately says again and again “I am still here.”
Today in addition to celebrating the inspiring and long life of Ruby McDowell, this little church --- aka the little church that could --- from that famous old children’s book called “the little engine that could,” welcomes into the household of God Lukas, baptizing him in the name of the Father, and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Lukas and his family are communicating something profound to us and to God --- they are saying with clarity and commitment ---- we love, we trust, we believe in that persistent and insistent life force --- we love, we trust, we believe that sharing our lives with the wider community and wisdom of the church is a gift worth giving --- this family is saying something profound to us St. Cyprian’s, their saying we’re drawn to you, we feel a connection with your story and we see not only that you are still here, but that the Spirit of resurrection is overflowing, is spilling out of our doors and down the street. Lukas will one day hear the story of his baptism, he may even remember it, wherever he may be and he will learn about Ruby McDowell about the warmth and love of this little church that could, and this community will be part of his story and part of his own Easter proclamation “Alleluia Christ is Risen.”
The gospel this morning is one of my favorite stories in the entire New Testament, I love the image of Jesus making his disciples breakfast on the seashore. Now, the gospel tells us this is the third time Jesus has appeared to the disciples --- there’s a lot we could explore in this story , lots of questions we could ask like “why do the disciples go back to their fishing boats in Galilee?” and “what about that miraculous catch of fish?” but for today lets just appreciate how this story insists that we be prepared to run into Jesus anywhere and everywhere --- in the familiar and in the extraordinary. The disciples returned to Galilee a place they knew well, where they began there journey with Jesus and there he said to them “ I am still here.” but even in that well known place, the extraordinary happens in the catch of that giant net of fish so in the surprises, in unpredictable Jesus also says to us “I am still here.” At the end of the gospel, we here again that insistent and persistent Spirit of the Resurrection communicating to us, as Jesus speaks with Peter about his own death --- that even in the pain, struggle, confusion and terrifying perhaps most of all --- Jesus is still here.
Baptism is a powerful rite of initiation into the community of faith --- it’s a sacrament an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace. Like all sacraments, its polyvalent --- has many meanings and values. On this day though, this Earth Sunday as we pour this water, say these prayers, and make these commitments let us keep in mind all the ways that water serves us --- all the ways that water communicates to us the power, love, and the enlivening Spirit of God. Listen closely to the prayer over the baptismal waters --- and consider water in your own life --- the water of showers, and baths, of pools and oceans, the water of rain and leaks, and garden hoses. Think of all the rain we have been having this spring, think of all the places that water goes, all the ways it gets in and under and around. The resurrection spirit of God --- is like that water --- it goes all over the place --- and affects everything. May the water we pour on this day, and all the water of our lives communicate to us as Ruby and this church do regularly and persistently that we are still here, that Christ is still here --- may the whole world see and know “Alleluia, Christ is risen.”
Blessed Easter Three.
A few months short of a year ago, I called one of the oldest members of this congregation, Ruby McDowell to set up a visit with her, and one of the first things she said to me, very clearly and deliberately was “I’m still here.” Each time since that first phone call I have walked into her lovely home carrying communion from St. Cyprian’s, Ruby has said these words again and again “I am still here.” with clarity and commitment. There is a connection between the words of this amazing typical Jamaican as Ruby calls herself --- “I am still here” and the powerful proclamation that Christians throughout the world make again and again about Jesus’ resurrection, “Alleluia, Christ is Risen.” Just as her beloved St. Cyprian’s Church says again and again to everyone who passes her by, or walks into her doors, or hears about something new going on within, we say clearly and deliberately “we are still here.” “Alleluia, Christ is Risen” Resurrection is about the persistent and insistent Spirit of God made known to us in Jesus, it’s a belief that despite all evidence to the contrary there is a powerful life force lifting us and all creation up, giving us hope, giving us peace and helping us embrace change. Jesus says to us in the resurrection, just as Ruby does, just as this little church does “I am still here.” Despite all the challenges, pain, sadness, betrayal and disappointment of life, the Risen Christ persistently and insistently clearly and deliberately says again and again “I am still here.”
Today in addition to celebrating the inspiring and long life of Ruby McDowell, this little church --- aka the little church that could --- from that famous old children’s book called “the little engine that could,” welcomes into the household of God Lukas, baptizing him in the name of the Father, and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Lukas and his family are communicating something profound to us and to God --- they are saying with clarity and commitment ---- we love, we trust, we believe in that persistent and insistent life force --- we love, we trust, we believe that sharing our lives with the wider community and wisdom of the church is a gift worth giving --- this family is saying something profound to us St. Cyprian’s, their saying we’re drawn to you, we feel a connection with your story and we see not only that you are still here, but that the Spirit of resurrection is overflowing, is spilling out of our doors and down the street. Lukas will one day hear the story of his baptism, he may even remember it, wherever he may be and he will learn about Ruby McDowell about the warmth and love of this little church that could, and this community will be part of his story and part of his own Easter proclamation “Alleluia Christ is Risen.”
The gospel this morning is one of my favorite stories in the entire New Testament, I love the image of Jesus making his disciples breakfast on the seashore. Now, the gospel tells us this is the third time Jesus has appeared to the disciples --- there’s a lot we could explore in this story , lots of questions we could ask like “why do the disciples go back to their fishing boats in Galilee?” and “what about that miraculous catch of fish?” but for today lets just appreciate how this story insists that we be prepared to run into Jesus anywhere and everywhere --- in the familiar and in the extraordinary. The disciples returned to Galilee a place they knew well, where they began there journey with Jesus and there he said to them “ I am still here.” but even in that well known place, the extraordinary happens in the catch of that giant net of fish so in the surprises, in unpredictable Jesus also says to us “I am still here.” At the end of the gospel, we here again that insistent and persistent Spirit of the Resurrection communicating to us, as Jesus speaks with Peter about his own death --- that even in the pain, struggle, confusion and terrifying perhaps most of all --- Jesus is still here.
Baptism is a powerful rite of initiation into the community of faith --- it’s a sacrament an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace. Like all sacraments, its polyvalent --- has many meanings and values. On this day though, this Earth Sunday as we pour this water, say these prayers, and make these commitments let us keep in mind all the ways that water serves us --- all the ways that water communicates to us the power, love, and the enlivening Spirit of God. Listen closely to the prayer over the baptismal waters --- and consider water in your own life --- the water of showers, and baths, of pools and oceans, the water of rain and leaks, and garden hoses. Think of all the rain we have been having this spring, think of all the places that water goes, all the ways it gets in and under and around. The resurrection spirit of God --- is like that water --- it goes all over the place --- and affects everything. May the water we pour on this day, and all the water of our lives communicate to us as Ruby and this church do regularly and persistently that we are still here, that Christ is still here --- may the whole world see and know “Alleluia, Christ is risen.”
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