Sermon Audio

Okay, I'm honestly not a self-promoter, but I thought this was actually a decent picture of me taken whilst preaching at St. Paul's.

Click on the link to hear my most recent sermon given at St. Paul's, Chattanooga.
http://stpaulschatt.homestead.com/Pentecost16_sermon.mp3

Morning Prayer Reflection

Proper 20,  Daily Office Year 1

Tuesday, September 22, 2009

Chapel of the Apostles

Sewanee, Tennessee

2 Kings 5:19-27

1 Cor 5:1-8

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Lord David Hope, former Archbishop of York and yours truly

 outside of Halifax Parish Church, June 2009.

It was nearing the end of my time on placement from The College of the Resurrection at Halifax Parish Church in West Yorkshire.  The Parish was celebrating its patronal feast day, that of Saint John the Baptist.  It was a truly festive occasion, complete with a rare High mass set of vestments on loan from the Community of the Resurrection.  Our guest preacher that evening was Lord David Hope, the former Archbishop of York and Primate of England.  Following the peace, the Vicar invited me to stand next to him at the altar before the canon of the mass was to begin.  All ready the nerves were starting to kick in.  After the fraction and the clergy received the holy sacrament, Hilary—the vicar—handed a chalice of wine to the Archbishop and then turned to me and handed me the patten full of bread!  Now, I had several images racing in my head of a certain liturgics professor here having a mild stroke at this proposition, but I had to pull it together as the choir was in place and ready to receive.  Perhaps I was safe being a continent away!

Out came the hands.  So I did what I knew, I carefully took the wafer, made the sign of the cross and said, “the body of Christ, the bread of heaven.”  At that point, I had no earthly idea what Common Worship said about any of this, nor was I about to embarrass the vicar by asking Lord David his opinion on the matter.  Vicars in the Church of England have absolute, legal authority over their parishes.  So off I went.  One by one, I distributed the bread in the most reverent manner possible.  What struck me the most as I walked back and forth behind the altar rail was the image of one broken human being handing over the bread of wholeness to another.  The eyes, their eyes were very telling.  So much of the pain of life, the joy of life, and the hope for Christ was all bound together in their eyes.  It was palpable.      

During my hour-long bus ride back to Mirfield, I reflected on what had happened in the liturgy.  This bread, this bread of sincerity and truth was in our hands so that it could feed our souls.  Christ’s body taken, blessed, broken, and given to the world was somehow making me whole, giving me life to pursue the truth.  I, like most seminarians I’m sure, daydream of the time when as a celebrate at the table, I can proclaim to the people, “Alleluia, Christ our Passover has been sacrificed for us.”  And now I find myself in the very midst of unpacking those words.  To proclaim those words is to know deeply what Paul is describing in today’s epistle.

The unleavened bread, rises up, just as Our Lord rose from the tomb.  We are bound to strip away the old leaven, the leaven of sin that attempts to destroy our lives.  Just as the Corinthians read this exhortation from Paul, we hear this today as the invitation to strive for the narrow door, to remove from ourselves those things which pervert the Gospel and obscure the truth.  That way, we can say with all sincerity and truth, "it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me" (Gal 2:20).

The bread of life was given for freedom to live a life of conversion as God’s beloved people.  Disorder, chaos, and sickness are the results of sin.  Wholeness and health are results of the truth.  Hear what the first letter of John says, “for if we say we have no sin, we deceive ourselves, and the truth is not in us, but if we confess our sins, God who is faithful and just, will forgive our sins and cleanse us from all unrighteousness”(1 John 1: 8-9).

So for today, seek the banquet of the lamb, the great festival of festivals, where we all have a welcomed seat ready for us.  But know this, there is no warning label attached to the Christian life, your pursuit of the truth may be dangerous, but ultimately the heavenly joy will shine down on your path as you rise up to meet Our Lord upon the road.  Therefore let us keep the feast.  Amen.

Deo Soli Gloria: An Appreciation

Icon of Saint Gregory the Great

The Brotherhood of Saint Gregory (BSG)

Deo Soli Gloria, or "to God alone the glory," is the motto of the Brotherhood of Saint Gregory the Great (BSG).  BSG is a religious order in The Episcopal Church and is celebrating this year the fortieth anniversary of their founding.  The following is from their website:

The Brotherhood of Saint Gregory is a Christian Community of the Episcopal Church, whose members follow a common rule and serve the church on parochial, diocesan, and national levels. Members--clergy and lay, without regard to marital status--live individually, in small groups, or with their families. They support themselves and the community through their secular or church-related work, making use of their God-given talents inthe world while not being of the world. The trust that all labor and life can be sanctified is summed up in the community's motto: Soli Deo Gloria, To God Alone the Glory.

The Brotherhood was founded on Holy Cross Day 1969, by Richard Thomas Biernacki, the present Minister General, after consultation with many Episcopal and Roman Catholic religious. Among the latter the Sisters of the Visitation were particularly helpful and encouraging. It was in their Riverdale, New York, monastery chapel that the first members made profession of vows to the Brotherhood's chaplain, the Rev Thomas F Pike.

Later that year, Bishop Horace W B Donegan of New York recognized the Brotherhood as a Religious Community of the Episcopal Church. Upon his retirement, his successor, Bishop Paul Moore jr, became Visitor to the brothers, whom he came to call the "Flexible Friars." He was succeeded by Bishop Walter D. Dennis, Suffragan of New York. The present Visitor is Bishop Rodney R. Michel, Suffragan of Long Island.

The icon is currently on display at Saint Paul's Episcopal Church in Chattanooga, Tennessee where one brother, Br. Ron Fender, BSG worships.  He is something of a local saint, though he would tell you that he isn't!  He is deeply engaged with the work of the homeless in Chattanooga and he is supported by our parish.  We also are blessed to have a BSG brother here at the School of Theology this year as he completes his studies for ordination.

The icon is painted on a bread board worn down over the years by working hands (double-click on the icon to enlarge it).  It was written by the founder and Minister General of the Order.  Pope Gregory the Great is shown on his cathedra as a dove of the Holy Spirit flies near his right ear for inspiration consistent with the traditional accounts of these visits of the Spirit during Gregory's sermon-writing.  The four evangelist gospel writers are depicted by their animal metaphors in the corners.

I give thanks for the Brothers of Saint Gregory for their growing witness to our world and for their labor and prayers to further the Kingdom of God.

Water-Logged, A Sermon

16th Sunday after Pentecost, Year B

Sunday, September 20, 2009

Saint Paul's Episcopal Church

Chattanooga, Tennessee

Ritual Mass with Baptism

Psalm 1

Mark 9: 30-37
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One of the greatest joys of being a father is being able to take your children to the amusement park.  Funnel cakes, ice cream, and my personal favorite, cotton candy; the amusement park is one of the great pastimes for any big-kid at heart.  It’s a place where you can lay aside any sense of decorum and let the good times roll.  It’s a place where the ride takes control of your life, twisting and turning on a path unknown.

This summer, I was able to take my daughter to Camden Park back in my hometown.  As a child growing up in West Virginia, the possibility of even going to Camden Park was an unbelievable treat.  And now, some twenty years later, I find myself passing through the same ticket gates now holding my daughter’s hand.  Not surprising, the same rides were still there and still working.  We started off slowly, working our way through the kiddy rides, which are pretty big to any ambitious two-year old.  The carousel, the boats, and the requisite train ride around the perimeter of the park felt as natural to me as reliving my childhood.  But, looming in the far off distance was the ubiquitous water ride called the Log Flume, a giant among rides in the Park that ends with a steep descent crashing through a monstrous wall of water.  I could see in her eyes that water plus a fun ride was surely going to equal one great time with Daddy.  I smiled.

We stepped into our boat and shoved off for the twisting turns of the deceptively calm, flowing water.  Now, just in case you have any misgivings about this giant drop at the end there is a smaller version that first tests your resolve, it prepares you for the next monumental climb coming just around the corner.  Well, after that first, tiny splash, she began to cry, “I do want to ride this anymore.”  To which I responded, “it’s too late to change your mind now.  Just hold on to daddy and close your eyes!”  The belts began to pick up our little log boat and up we climbed.  Up, up, and up still some more.  And then, of course, there’s that brief moment of levelness, a feeling that everything will be okay, and then woosh!  As our stomachs raced to our heads, we plunged down, down, down and until finally the king of all splashes hit us.  We were safe and horizontal—soaked, water-logged might be more accurate.  Her cries were fairly audible throughout the entire park, but as we came back to the starting house, there stood grandma and grandpa taking pictures and cheering us on.  The crying quickly stopped, and before you knew it, my daughter was telling her little brother how much fun she had; she passed through the water and the water forever changed her experience of fun.

       

Mark’s Gospel this morning continues the narrative from last week, where Jesus instructs his disciples to take up their cross and follow him, warning us that there is no profit in gaining the whole world only to forfeit life itself.  For Mark, the mystery of the cross and its implications for discipleship dominates the Gospel.  Today, the teaching takes on yet another twist:  “whoever wants to first must be last of all and servant of all.”  To illustrate the point, because the disciples in Mark never seem to understand, Jesus takes in his arms a small child.  Why a child?  Perhaps it was the nearest warm body to make his point, or perhaps that in this culture children were seen as both small and insignificant.  Fortunately, this has changed greatly over time.

In his rule for forming monastic communities, Saint Benedict urges new communities to include the young in the councils, chapters, and decision-making groups, because, he believes that more often than not, the Holy Spirit speaks through youthful souls.  Children help remind us to never let go of our sense of wonder.  Through children’s eyes we are free to regain our creative, curious nature that keeps us in awe of God’s unfolding plan of creation.  We will join and pray in a few minutes following baptism, that these newly baptized candidates receive the gift of joy and wonder in all of God’s works.  For if we dare to lose that sense, we risk losing our reverence of the great mystery of God’s sovereignty.  So Jesus’ illustration with the child is not lost:  whoever welcomes the least, the lost, and last welcomes Jesus.  Whoever welcomes people who may seem insignificant, those who live on the margins, who are powerless, who have no status in society, welcomes the Lord and Savior of the world.  So, who is the greatest among you?

In this culture of honor and shame, this was a very important question, and Jesus overturns these accepted norms using a child.  To be great in the community of Jesus is to be a servant of all; reaching out and embracing those on the fringes of our world.  The Ubuntu theology from South Africa expresses this clearly:  I am because you are.  Honoring the sacred presence of Christ in every person we encounter is the new norm—regardless of gender, orientation, ethnicity, or anything else.  These are the new norms of the Kingdom.  “The Kingdom of God has come near,” John the Baptist proclaims in the beginning of Mark, and even as the Gospel ends with the finality of the cross and empty tomb, leaving out any post-resurrection stories, the implication for us is to carry on the work of the Kingdom.  And here is where we connect with Baptism.

This morning at Saint Paul’s we’re preparing to join with these new candidates for a water ride of their own.  Baptism is the indissoluble covenant between God and us: we go down into the water, buried with Christ in his death, only to then rise up sharing in His resurrection.  Baptism is at the very heart of our common life of faith in Christ.  Baptism has shaped our Book of Common Prayer and how we witness the Gospel equal with our sisters and brothers.  For many of us who were baptized at a very early age, it is so easy to see this as a past event—all I can do is look at the photograph of my parents holding me next to the font when I was a mere three months old.  And yet, baptism is not a past event, it is a real present reality.

The Episcopal Church embodies this in the form of the Baptismal Covenant, a reminder at every baptism that we all are presently sharing in the work of the Kingdom.  If baptism is the great equalizer for the Kingdom of God, then our Baptismal Covenant names before God our commitment to proclaim by Word and Deed the Good news to everyone, to seek and serve Christ in all persons, striving for justice and peace among all people, and respecting the dignity of every human being.  This is our bond, this is our obligation to the Kingdom!  It is always before us. And we cannot do this alone; we must share in the Apostle’s teaching and fellowship, accomplished only within the community of faith.  It is done by dying to ourselves and truly taking the plunge down the steep waterfalls in our lives, so that we can honestly say, “it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.”

The bonds forged by God in the waters completely and forever change our whole world.  With Christ alive inside of us, we are like trees planted firmly in the ground, with strong, hearty roots feed by deep streams of water.  With Christ alive inside of us, we bear fruit for the Kingdom, we can weather the turbulent storms in our lives and not be blown away.  With Christ alive inside of us, we can, as our Collect this morning says, hold fast to the heavenly things that endure.  We cannot pass through the walls of water and hope to emerge the same person.  We, who are baptized, are bound and beckoned to be the hands of Christ, the voice of Christ, and the love of Christ yesterday, today, and forever.  Life in Christ floods everything that we do:  how we choose to spend our money, where we spend our time, and ultimately which god we worship in the center of our being.

So we rejoice today as our household continues to grow and be flooded with the Holy Spirit.  May that same spirit flood our souls and continue to burn that celestial spark where Christ lives and moves and grounds us.  Amen.