Church of Our Redeemer

Sermon - 1st Sunday in Lent

2012-02-26T08:44:00.004-08:00

Preached on February 26, 2012

Preacher: The Rev. Sabeth Fitzgibbons

Readings for the day can be found here.

On Wednesday this last week, many of us came to confess our shortcomings in the longest and most soul-searching confession the church has to offer, and to be humbled before God. We left with a smudge of ash on our foreheads, reminded that we are dust and to dust we shall return.

Dust. Not even soil which includes nutrient rich humus, or pollen which has some life-promise,or even fairy dust which at least sparkles. Plain old dry, gritty dust. The dust of the newborn creation from which God formed and breathed life into a human.

The dustiness of Ash Wednesday grounds us, reminds us that we are also of this creation. That we, like the earth, have seasons. Some seasons are fecund and fruitful, others are raw and painful, some are joyful and full of potential, others are fallow with hidden growth we only realize later.

We humans spend a lot of time looking ahead. Here in late winter, it’s natural to be looking ahead to the new life of spring: flowers, trees with spring green leaves, planting time. It’s our culture to always be moving, to almost be in front of ourselves with planning and anticipating. How many of us have already begun planning, or at least thinking about, our summer vacation? It’s so much fun to think about all the possibilities of the future.

Lent invites us to be grounded, to be firmly staked in this season of our life - to spend some time where we are, instead of where we’re going or where we’d like to be. To look around, look inward, take stock of who we are, in relationship with ourselves, with others in our lives, and with our God.

I’ll be the first to admit that it is often easier (and definitely more fun) to be looking ahead instead of looking at where we are. Where we are can be messy, confusing, complicated. We might even find a few dust bunnies hanging around in the corners we haven’t minded lately. None of us like to admit how messy our interior lives can get, how broken and disorienting it is if we really take off my rose-colored distance-focused glasses.

Lent is a good time to take off those glasses and be a little shocked by the state of our lives, to spend a season of 40 days in the wilderness of our present lives.

Jesus was baptized by John in the Jordan, heard God’s voice telling him how beloved he was, and immediately was driven into the wilderness - where he wandered with the wild beasts for company, and was tempted by Satan for 40 days.

He’s had an amazing spiritual experience of renewal, of starting clean from baptism. He’s been assured of God’s love for him, and then he finds himself in the wilderness.

Jesus didn’t know how long he’d be out there in the wilderness. He didn’t pack for an extended camping trip. The Spirit drove him to the wilderness. Talk about being in the present moment!

One has to wonder if he wasn’t a little disoriented. What did he do during those 40 days? What did he think about? What did he eat? Did he want to leave? Did he try to leave? Maybe he couldn’t find his way out of the wilderness. Maybe he was distracted by the temptations of Satan and lost track of himself. What were his temptations? (Mark doesn’t really say.)

What are our temptations? How do those temptations dis-orient us from our loving relationships with self and God and others? Do those temptations contribute to creating our wilderness seasons?

Jesus emerges from the wilderness proclaiming the good news of repentance and God’s forgiveness. He proclaims it as someone who has been so lost, so disoriented by temptation, that he could only find the way out of the wilderness by relying on God’s strength rather than his own. Forty days of being present to your very surroundings and temptations will do that to you.

I invite us all to make this Lent a season of our present space and time, spend some time resisting and understanding our own temptations, allow ourselves to admit our dis-orientation from God. Take this 40 days to be in the wilderness, to dare to admit that we cannot find our way out alone, to need God’s strength to sustain us. So that we may emerge at Easter, renewed in hope and strength for the next season of new life and growth.

Sermon - 3rd Sunday after the Epiphany

2012-02-24T12:10:00.004-08:00

Preached on January 23, 2012

Preacher: The Rev. Sabeth Fitzgibbons

Readings for the day can be found here.

Imagine it’s tomorrow afternoon. Maybe you’re at school, thinking about a history pop quiz. Maybe you’re at home, washing the lunch dishes, or maybe you’re at work, in a meeting, planning for the rest of the month. Whatever is going on, you’re wherever you are on a normal Monday afternoon, doing whatever you do on a regular Monday. A guy you’ve never seen before stops by what you’re doing. He knows your name, and he invites you to come with him, to use your everyday skills of problem solving and cleaning and planning in a new and different way.

He doesn’t say it in so many words, but you know from something about him that he’s inviting you to join something really exciting and life-changing. Oh, and he tells you to bring along your classmate, co-worker, spouse, child or neighbor – someone who is there with you that you really love. You say, “Hey, Steve, let’s go see what that guy is about.” The two of you drop what you’re doing and go!

Does this sound like a likely scenario? Too rash? I know I’d be wondering, “Who IS this guy? How does he know my name? Where are we going?”

What if he added that he could help you use your life and skills to change people’s hearts? Would that change yours?

Okay, so let’s suspend reality for a moment and say you actually walk out the door to join this guy. Maybe his charisma is just overwhelming. Or perhaps it’s his sincerity.

You go with him as he continues to invite more and more people along. He begins teaching about how love can change the world. You begin to see how he treats people, even people no one else treats well – like the guy who panhandles on the corner by your office, and the lady who dresses funny and talks to herself in a loud voice, and even the teenager everyone is sure is using, and maybe dealing, drugs. This guy really walks his talk! And he’s healing people of lifelong illnesses, and casting out demons. This is pretty amazing stuff!

What are WE doing here? Are we just wasting our time? Sure all this talk about God and love feels good, and this guy is a great teacher, and really inspirational, but why did he want us along for the ride? What do we have to add to his campaign?

Just when we’re really starting to wonder about all this, he starts to tell us. He invited us along to learn from him so we can carry on his work. He says he’s going to leave – and we are going to be the ones who are spreading the word about love. Reconcilers, healers and peacemakers, bringing hope to the brokenhearted and joy to the desolate.

What!! Me? Us? You’ve got to be kidding! I’m way to busy with just trying to keep my life in order. I could never change people’s hearts, much less end slavery or child hunger. I have a hard enough time getting my own family to church and Sunday School regularly, how could I possibly bring other people to meet God? That’s just way more than I can do.

Peter and Andrew, James and John, and the other apostles Jesus called must have felt some of these things. Jesus asked them to leave behind their livelihoods, and to go against social norms of the day which were about staying in one place with your family group. Jesus asked them to leave their families and the places of their lives to be nomadic. We know Jonah resisted God’s call to convert people’s hearts. The first time he was asked, he ran the other way – and so we have a great story about a big fish’s belly.

And yet, Peter and Andrew, James and John, and even Jonah, eventually dared to believe that they could accomplish the daunting tasks God put before them. The apostles never dreamed that leaving their nets would eventually lead them to found a community of Jesus-followers that would last for more than 2000 years. They changed the world, one community of converted hearts at a time. Jonah thought the people of Ninevah would never listen to him – that’s why he ran away – and yet they did listen and repent, and God forgave them.

Still today, as followers of Jesus, we are called to do the impossible. I was only sort of kidding about ending child hunger and slavery. I do believe that love can change the world. God has great and wonderful things in mind for the world – a reign of love and justice for all people – and we are part of making that happen. We won’t see the full magnitude of God’s dream in our lifetimes – it took 2000 years to get this far. AND God’s kingdom won’t happen unless we get started on it.

That’s the thing about faith. It’s about doing something bigger than we can imagine, outrageous even, taking that step beyond practical and predictable – that LEAP of faith.

God calls us and WANTS us – just as we are: Doubting and stumbling, sometimes in the darkest belly of the fish, wondering what we’re doing here. How will we make connections with the world if we don’t know what it is to doubt and despair?

Here’s something that is for sure: God’s love is steadfast. The psalmist proclaims it, and we know it is true. Even in our darkest moments, God waits for our return, waiting to envelope us in love and reassurance. Salvation is for all. Not just for us sitting here or for Christians. God’s good news of love and forgiveness, hope and reconciliation is good news for everyone, everywhere.

We have good news to proclaim to the world! Life-changing, heart-changing news, even. The present form of this world is passing away God’s kingdom is taking root – and we are to help create it. We are called beyond every rational possibility to leave our nets and follow the One who invites us to God’s vision.

We can only accomplish baby steps toward the kingdom of God if we walk by faith, even if it’s reluctantly like Jonah, relying on God’s purposes instead of our own.

Jesus calls us, too, “The kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.” “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.”

Let us pray.

Gracious God, give us courage to answer when you call, to dream your dreams for the world, and to step out in faith beyond what we think we can do to what you empower us to do as your reconciling presence to the world. Amen.

Sermon - Christmas 2011

2012-02-24T12:07:00.006-08:00

Preached on December 24 and 25, 2011

Preacher: The Rev. Sabeth Fitzgibbons

Readings for the day can be found here.

I’m always looking for a good blog – one that will make me think, that will ask the same questions I have rattling around in my brain. One that doesn’t shy away from the gritty truth that comes out when we wrestle with the questions of faith and being that restlessly linger in the back of my mind.

Questions about faith and life – as a parent, a person of faith, an adult trying to make my way in the world we live in. I met a new blog this week that is all of those things.

Three things caught my attention as I met this blog. First was the questions being asked – How has your faith changed over time? How do you weave together the old and the new? Next was the beautifully crafted images, as in “I look down to see that I am still squeezing myself into that pretty yellow, puffed sleeved dress that was made to fit my five year old self. So I reach down and pull that faith garment overhead, letting it dangle by a finger as I inspect it. Worn at the hem and loose at the seams, is it good for anything but the Good Will pile?” Images that come alive, that spark my imagination. Finally, the description of how this blog came about… “It came quiet one night. The idea that permeated the mind and pierced the heart right through.”

It came quiet one night. The idea that permeated the mind and pierced the heart right through. Ooohhh… right. We’ve heard that language before, imagined that scene before. It’s the story we’re here to tell tonight. A story of incarnation. A story of God in human form.

Luke tells of a baby born in a stable one quiet night. There were lots of people gathered to Bethlehem that night – so many had gathered to be counted for the census that a late-arriving craftsman and his young and very pregnant fiancée couldn’t even find a room. They ended up in a barn, bedding down with the animals. It was a usual night, with shepherds tending their sheep in the fields outside of town. Nothing out of the ordinary, unless you count that angel appearing and saying, “Do not be afraid—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.” And then that multitude of heavenly hosts that appeared, singing, “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!”

An idea that permeated the mind and pierced the heart right through. The Messiah is born! The Messiah who will rescue God’s people from oppression and Roman occupation. The Savior who will restore God’s people, and the holy city of Jerusalem, to their former and rightful glory. The world will be put to rights – hunger and hurting will be banished. The Jewish people had been reading the prophets and waiting, in great anticipation, for many years, for the Messiah who would relieve their suffering. Every person raised in the Jewish faith knew of the long-awaited Messiah. This Messiah, born in the city and lineage of David, a great king in Jewish tradition, would surely be a king as well. A king to overthrow their Roman oppressors. The news that the Messiah had been born would have permeated their minds – and pierced their hearts with hope, joy and anticipation.

And so the shepherds set out to visit this newborn Savior, a brand new baby lying in a meager feeding trough. Their arrival must have surprised Mary and Joseph, who knew nothing of the angels’ appearance. Imagine, recovering from childbirth, holding your newborn baby to your breast, and these probably not so clean or sweet-smelling strangers arrive to visit your baby. It’s the wee hours of the morning, and these aren’t the most highly regarded members of society – and they are talking about angels telling them about your baby being the Messiah, and singing. You might be inclined to think they’d been drinking a little too much wine out there in the fields, except that what they are saying confirms your own encounter with an angel.

This baby, this Messiah, did indeed come to save the world – just not the way the Jewish people thought it would happen. They never thought their new king would eventually be executed as a criminal. They never imagined that he would be an amazing itinerant teacher and healer. Nor did they think he would rise from the grave. Little did they know that he was God, come to be with God’s people in the most intimate way God could come to know us – as one of us.

He was just a baby, so fragile, lying there in his mother’s arms. Vulnerable to hunger and cold and hurt.

A new baby is always cause for celebration and wonder, and we know now that this one comes to bring joy and peace. Emmanuel. God, here with us. A savior to rescue all humanity from its own self-importance and distractions from the One who gives us life.

Incarnation. God enfleshed. Piercing our hearts with the hard and scary questions about what is important, about how we hold on to how we used to know God, about how we mesh our old God ideas with our real and difficult lives. More than just an idea that engages us – God coming to us pierces our hearts. Like those shepherds so long ago, we can never be the same once we have encountered God enfleshed. We cannot help telling what we know, the glory of God revealed to us—in something so small and helpless as a newborn baby or in words and images that prod us to think about ourselves and our world differently

As we celebrate Christmas – we gather with friends and family, we exchange gifts in honor of God who gifted us with himself, we eat and drink and sing carols to God’s glory. At the same time we may also find that our old faith, the puffy-sleeved dress of our five year old self as the blog said, doesn’t fit us anymore. We may find that amidst the celebrating, we have lingering questions about life, faith, God, meaning – the big questions – and they don’t really fit with the faith we used to have the faith that just was excited about a baby. That’s okay.

Jesus came as a baby – and as an adult he shook up all kinds of old faith assumptions, in his day and ours. It is an ongoing challenge for most all of us to continue to mesh our old faith and the realities of our gritty real lives. The challenge is to continue to engage the questions, to find ways to experience Incarnation in our everyday lives and, like the shepherds, to tell it out to all we meet.

It came quiet one night. The idea that permeated the mind and pierced the heart right through. Christ is born! Alleluia!

Sermon - 2nd Sunday in Advent

2012-02-24T12:04:00.005-08:00

Preached on December 4, 2011

Preacher: The Rev. Sabeth Fitzgibbons

Readings for the day can be found here.

My husband Julien and I have gotten caught up watching the recent tv series Battlestar Galactica. It’s a story of a people wandering in space, battling a constant threat of attack from raiders, and seeking signs that will lead them home to a promised land called Earth.

Does this theme sound familiar? Wandering, looking for signs, anticipating a return to the comforts of home (even a home that is unknown), a place to call our own. That longing for home, the struggles of the journey, and the inability to quite get back to where we feel we belong, makes this an exile rather than an extended vacation.

The theme of exile recurs throughout scripture and all human history – even today. Exile: to be removed from one’s native place, often for political reasons; to have no place to belong.

When we think of exile we might think of political refugees or deposed dictators, or that Tom Hanks movie The Terminal about the guy stuck in an airport because his country dissolved while he was en route to the US and now he cannot get a visa and cannot go home. We might think of our own exiles – in relationships that we can’t quite reconcile, in losing a meaningful job, or in moving a distance from familiar friends and family. The marks of exile are that longing for a feeling of home, of security and belonging; the struggles of our journey – the ups and downs, the boulders to climb over and muddy patches; and the seeming impossibility of returning to our comfort home-place.

Last week Kate talked about how many of our Isaiah readings in Advent are from 2nd Isaiah, written when the people were in slavery in Babylon, and expecting and hoping a return to their homeland of Judah, to Jerusalem the city of God.

She also talked about our preparation during Advent being one of realizing how unready we are for the magnificent and terrifying coming of God, to wait with no expectation of what we are waiting for, and to remember that we cannot save ourselves or the world. Only God can save us.

The fact that only God can save us is actually a cause for hope. Once we get past the pride of thinking we can somehow, in the end, through our flawed and finite human capabilities, save ourselves. Once we can admit we are lost in the wilderness, we can see that it is only God who saves us. And the hope of returning from exile, returning to God, is something to anticipate with our whole selves.

We see God’s people in exile repeatedly in scripture. Physical and spiritual exile (and the two often go hand in hand). Exile isn’t always by choice – it might be because another tribe conquered you and took you home with them as slaves. You might be in exile because you escaped slavery, but have no idea how to get home. You might be in exile because you wandered far from God’s desires; you substituted your hopes and dreams for God’s. Or you might be in exile because you identified your self to a particular job or person or place, and that was torn away from you – and now you feel lost in the wilderness.

Exile can happen internally or externally, physically and spiritually. It can wreck our sense of our selves, our hope and our confidence.

Throughout the history of God’s people, God has sent prophets to proclaim God’s mercy, to remind God’s people that God is always the home they seek – and they will only find that home through turning back to God.

The prophet in 2^nd Isaiah (today’s reading from Isaiah 40) is preaching hope with the expectation of return from exile in Babylonia.

Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God.

The suffering of God’s people is about to end.

In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God.

Prepare for the glory of the Lord to once again be visible to all, by the return home of God’s people to their land.

Get you up to a high mountain, O Zion, herald of good tidings; lift up your voice with strength, O Jerusalem, herald of good tidings, lift it up, do not fear; say to the cities of Judah, “Here is your God!”

Shout it from the mountain tops – this is your God! Your God brings you home and cares for you! This is no quiet statement from the prophet – this is proclamation! Hope, anticipation, excitement for a return home! And it is because God will save God’s people.

Another vision comes from the psalmist – perhaps my favorite image in the psalms – Mercy and truth have met together; righteousness and peace have kissed each other. Return to God from exile puts all things in order – mercy and truth, righteousness and peace are in harmony. Anger and deceit, fear and fighting are put away. There is no room, and no need, for them when we are at home with God.

John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.

Mark tells us that John was preaching a return from exile, a return to being in relationship with God – the resounding message of prophets throughout history. Come home to God, wash away the dirt and residue of your wanderings; repent so you can be ready to receive the greater one who is coming. We can look for signs toward home, toward God. We can realize how lost we are. Only God can bring us the Holy Spirit, the promise of spiritual belonging and home.

Mark also tells us that John’s message was compelling and far-reaching. All the people of the countryside and of Jerusalem, all God’s faithful people, were going to hear him preach and be baptized by him, confessing their sins. Perhaps they, too, realized their exile from God. Realized how distracted from God they had become, how focused they were on the moment to moment battles for life and livelihood, how they no longer felt connected to their place or themselves.

John offers a beacon of hope, a chance to re-focus on the home-light of God, no matter what our station in life or how far off –course we might have wandered. Confession specifically names the offensive behavior, recognizes its darkness and brings a disciplined effort to turn away from it. John hears the people’s confessions before the people are immersed in the water. He searches their attitudes and questions their behavior (Luke 3:7-17). This verbalizing is the outward show of their repentance, which makes them candidates for baptism. Confession does more than recognize sin; it agrees with God about sin’s seriousness.

The next leg of our Advent journey is to recognize our exile from God, to Prepare the way of the Lord by repenting our distance from God. Where in our lives are we in exile, desperately looking for home? Where do we feel lost and disconnected? Once we know our exile, we can look Godward, rejoicing in the hope that only God can AND WILL save us.

Sermon for Annual Meeting

2012-02-02T18:38:00.001-08:00

Sermon for Annual Meeting: January 29, 2012

The Rev. Kate Ekrem

Well, here we are. You’re stuck with me now! But I can’t tell you how much I am looking forward to the year to come. This is going to be an exciting year for Redeemer. The past year has also been an exciting one, as we talked through all the things we needed to, to make our decisions. We dug deep, really deep, and we found bedrock, shared visions and values that can form the firm foundation of our ministry going forward.

Someone asked me, what’s the difference, what will be different now that we have a rector instead of a priest-in-charge. Officially, there may not be that much difference in the job description, but the job of a priest-in-charge is to look to the past, help facilitate healing, help a parish to get their feet back under them. And the job of a rector, I think, is to look to the future, to gather the vision of what can be, what God is calling us to be next.

And in the course of our discussions this year, I have heard much that affirms what Redeemer is now—a vibrant community with strong lay leaders, where children have a special place, where our worship is reverent but relaxed, a supportive place where we can find nourishment for our journey, a community that inspires and helps us to reach out to a world in need. I’ve also some desires for the future, and some plain old problems that need to be solved.

In the strategic plan survey, one of the most-often cited things was that people felt the Great Hall needed to be renovated, that came up over and over again. We lack the space for the Food pantry to be able to store all it needs to feed people. And here in the sanctuary, we do a good job with this floating altar, but the truth is that we’ve never found the right place to put it. If it’s up here, you can’t hear, if it’s down there, you can’t see, and while we know we want the kids to be able to gather around it, when they do you can’t see either. Our organ was up to its old tricks making strange noises last week, and most pressing of all is perhaps our lack of room for our children. The only reason we have enough classroom space this year is because we don’t have a 4^th/5^th grade class. But since September, we’ve had some families join or return to our church who have 4^th and 5^th graders, and we don’t have a class for them. You know, back when this building was built, the tagline for the building campaign was “for them we must”, meaning for the children, and when you look back at those old brochures, there are photos of kids having their Sunday school classes in the boiler room. It might be an idea to consider, because we don’t know where else to put them right now. And all these things are just pressing problems, without even addressing what we might want or hope for above and beyond that, or what else God is calling us to do.

The PICD committee asked me a lot of really good questions this fall, and one of them that inspired a lot of good conversation was, what would you ask of us, what would I ask of you all, if I were your rector. Part of where that was coming from, I think, was about would you ask us to do a capital campaign, would we have to do some renovations to the building. And my answer was no, we don’t have to do those things. But we do have to talk about it. We do have to have a conversation about whether or not we’re going to do those things. 2012 is the year of that conversation. Our strategic plan does point to some specific goals about putting our resources, our building, in line with what we say is important to us: formation for all ages, an excellent music program, worship that involves everyone, mission and outreach to the world. Are we putting our money, all our resources, where our mouth is? Our strategic plan does ask us to do some deep thinking, and conversation, about that.

You know by now I’m not an “everyone line up behind my 3 point plan” kind of rector. I’m much more likely to say, well, what do you guys want to do? Which may be frustrating at times, but the fact is that very often you all do know what to do, and in fact have a brilliant plan. My question “well, what do you want to do” is much more about the conversation. Because I believe that in that conversation, in that speaking what’s in our hearts and in that holy listening, that’s where God is. God is not in the 3 point plan, God is in the sharing and the listening. And in the sharing and the listening, God will move and act and lead us in the direction God would have us go. And God will make it possible for us to get there.

So what do I ask of you? Two things. The next piece of work that I think is important for Redeemer is to engage in is having that conversation. Are we going to renovate the great hall – or not? Are we going to renovate our worship space – or not? Do we need a capital campaign – or not? I don’t have specific ideas or hopes about the outcome of those conversations. But I do have hopes about what we will get out of having the conversation. We’ve been putting off these conversations, in part because we had other important things to do, which Connie will tell you more about downstairs, our vestry had a very productive year this year. But in part because they are hard, scary conversations. We don’t want to get in arguments with each other, we don’t want to fight. “Discernment” conversations have been a bit stressful in the past. But we can have these conversations in holy, life giving ways. No matter what decision we make, if we learn how to do that, if we build our capacity for those difficult conversations, it will deepen our relationships and our ability to share our real selves with one another, it will strengthen our community and help us all grow spiritually. Our vestry retreat in February will focus on helping your vestry gain some tools and knowledge for being leaders in this conversation.

The second thing, this is really, all we do here, about helping you live out your baptismal vows. In a rector search, the parish can be very focused on the clergy, what’s their role, what do we want them to do. But as the children sang last week – you are the church. Much more important is, what’s your role, what is God calling you to do. You know that I think you don’t need to look any further than page 304 in the prayer book to figure out the answer to that question. So I hope we can continue to ask each other, will you continue in the apostles teaching and fellowship, will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, and perhaps most of all, will you support each other in your life in Christ? Because the key question for Redeemer is not so much, what’s the difference between a priest-in-charge and a rector, but what is the ministry of the laity? I want to direct you to one more key page in the prayer book, page 856. Right in the middle of the page. Can we all read together the answer to this question, What is the duty of all Christians?

The duty of all Christians is to follow Christ, to come together week by week for corporate worship, and to work, pray and give for the spread of the Kingdom of God.

To work, pray and give for the spread of the Kingdom of God. May God help us all to do that in the coming year, and may God bless the Church of our Redeemer. Amen.

Sermon for Social Justice Sunday

2012-02-02T18:37:00.002-08:00

Sermon for Social Justice Sunday: January 15, 2012

The Rev. Kate Ekrem

Over Christmas, my extended family visited Hanover New Hampshire, home of Dartmouth College, and saw “Occupy Hanover”, a collection of tents and boxes and students and signs on a street corner. My kids were curious, and asked what it was. Now, my family does not share the same political viewpoints in all respects, so there was sort of this pause, as we thought about who was going to answer the kids, and what each of us might say. I think they got some good answers, but it also caused some interesting conversation between us and it sort of seemed to boil down to, how are we responsible for each other? Do we just do good on an individual basis, giving to charity and volunteering, or should our government, our society, somehow be structured so that people don’t fall between the cracks, so that larger resources are there for those who need them, or does that somehow force us to take care of each other, and is that a bad thing or not?

The church has also had difficulty in knowing how to deal with the Occupy movement. Trinity Episcopal Church on Wall Street was incredibly welcoming to the occupiers when they first moved into Zuccotti Park in downtown New York. They let them use their bathroom, gave them space to warm up, and brought them hot meals, and so on. Then when the police evicted the occupiers from Zuccoti Park, they decided to go occupy nearby Duarte Park instead. Duarte Park is owned by Trinity Church. The church said, wait a minute, that’s our property, please get off. And now of course the occupiers are saying the church is the bad guy and Trinity is taking lots of criticism. It doesn’t make things less complicated to know that Trinity Church owns a large part of the office space on Wall Street or that Trinity pays for many programs that help those in need out of those office rents. It’s hard for the church to stand against the status quo when it is also part of it. And it’s worth remembering that when we get uncomfortable about the church being involved in social justice and therefore inevitably in politics, that the reason we have separation of church and state, the reason we value it, is that for centuries the church sometimes abused the political power it had – the Spanish inquisition just being one of many examples.

So the idea of remembering Martin Luther King Jr. – someone who certainly taught and preached and lived that the church has a role in politics, in social justice -- begs the question, what is the role of the church in social justice? Not just doing individual good, as when we participate in our mission projects helping others, but actually trying to create change in our society, in our government, lobbying for laws and policies that help those who need it most, that give voice to the voiceless. Where is the role of the church in that?

Because there is a role, there always has been. It’s not enough to say that the church should stay out of politics or the public forum, when the church has always been there, before there was a church. Jesus turned over the tables of the moneychangers in the temple, a public protest against a government policy that let some make money off of the poor. And the prophets of Israel spoke out publicly against “those who sell the needy for a pair of sandals-- they who trample the head of the poor into the dust of the earth, and push the afflicted out of the way.” as the prophet Amos wrote. (Amos 2:6-7). You know, I checked out the Occupy WS web site to learn what exactly they are trying to do, after that trip to Hanover, and a lot of it sound like it could have come right out of the Book of Amos.

Even a cursory reading of the Bible shows us that religion can’t be a private thing, that our faith demands some kind of public witness or action. Acknowledging that the church has a role in social justice I think means two things.

One is to admit that our government, democratically elected though it may be, can be unjust. The issue of civil rights that we commemorate this weekend exemplifies just how unjust we’re capable of being. Segregation was the law, and segregation was – well, evil is not too strong a word. When the law is wrong, good people must stand up and say so. In part, this is acknowledging the problem of human sin. That human beings, given enough privilege and power, will use that power in selfish ways. As one theologian is has written “precisely because of what scripture tells us about sin and power, Biblical people must always opposed great extremes of power.”

The second is to acknowledge that we are all responsible for each other. When someone asked Jesus, who is my neighbor, he responded by telling the parable of the good Samaritan, who helped a someone he didn’t even know. One of the main points of Christianity is that we’re not individuals, none of us is an island, all of our lives are connected together. And we have a responsibility for making sure that others don’t fall out of the community, because of ill health or old age or lack of economic resources or just plain prejudice.

So if the church does have a role in social justice, I think it’s partly in saying loud and clear these two things. Pointing out when laws are unjust and wrong. And reminding our leaders and ourselves that we’re all responsible for each other, for other people and for the created environment. Christians can’t just vote their own self-interest. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you all the things our church is already doing in this area: from the Episcopal Public Policy Network which lobbies Washington promoting legislation in keeping with our baptismal vow to strive peace and justice, to the annual Lobby Day for Episcopalians at the state house in Boston to promote affordable housing and health care access. I bet some of you are already involved in those things and other actions. When we do that, we are living out the truth often stated, that the church is an organization that exist for the benefit of people who are not its members, our very existence is about giving voice to those who don’t have a say in things, in making sure all members of our communities are included.

Our readings today are two calling stories: God calling Samuel and Jesus calling the first disciples. They left behind the safe and familiar to enter into a wider world, to witness to what they thought was God’s truth and God’s justice. Some of them lost their lives doing so. But to us as to them Jesus invites us outside the doors of this place, saying come and see. Let us like Samuel respond, Here I am, Lord.

Sermon for the Baptism of our Lord

2012-02-02T18:37:00.000-08:00

Sermon for the Baptism of our Lord: January 8, 2012

The Rev. Kate Ekrem

Today’s reading from the Acts of the Apostles reminds me of a great Episcopalian joke. I sort of collect Episcopalian jokes. This one is about a visitor who came to an Episcopal church, from another denomination. He loved the service and the music and during one of the particularly uplifting hymns he began swaying and waving his arms in the air. People sort of turned around and stared, and one of the ushers came over and told him, you’ve really got to stop that. He said, but I’ve got the Spirit! To which the usher replied, well, you didn’t get it here.

Sort of an interesting parallel to Paul’s experience in the Acts of the Apostles today where he goes to visit the church Ephesus and asks them "Did you receive the Holy Spirit when you became believers?" They replied, "No, we have not even heard that there is a Holy Spirit."

Have you heard that there is a Holy Spirit? Do you know that you received the Holy Spirit in baptism? When the believers in Ephesus were baptized in the Holy Spirit they received powerful gifts, the ability to prophesy and speak in tongues: gift that we may not understand or believe in today. But the power of the Holy Spirit is real, and what we affirm and enter into in our baptism is the faith that God’s Spirit can create healing and hope and new life in ways that are beyond human ability, and that we can’t explain or understand.

I want to suggest that to get those gifts of the Spirit, one need only live into our baptismal vows, that we renew today. For Episcopalians, there really isn’t any other better definition of what it means to be a Christian, than these five vows. I remember when Peter was baptized I was in seminary, so we met with the priest who was my field education supervisor to prepare for his baptism. Steve told us that these baptismal vows were even more important than our marriage vows, something I found a little hard to wrap my mind around. But nevertheless it is true. These are the vows that come first, before all the other commitments we enter into, is our commitment to God, and God’s commitment to us.

So if Dylan and Jospeh were your babies, you would come in to my or Sabeth’s office, just as these parents did, just as Dave and I did when Peter was a baby, and we’d turn to-- can anyone tell me what page in the prayer book? (304) And look at the vows you would take on your child's behalf, the vows that you're renewing today.

Do you want to do that now or you can also look at them in the bulletin. It begins with our basic statement of faith, the Apostles’ Creed, which says the essence of what we believe about god and Jesus and the holy spirit. And then it goes on into these promises.

The first is Will you continue in the apostles’ teaching and fellowship, in the breaking of bread, and in the prayers?

This is actually a quote from the Acts of the Apostles, describing what the early church did. And it describes church today, too. The breaking of bread and the prayers is what we’re doing right now, sharing the Eucharist together and praying together, as we do every Sunday. The apostles’ teaching is what we find in the bible: the story of Jesus the story of those who have gone before us in faith. And fellowship of course is what we’ll do right after this, sharing the chitchat of coffee hour, the friendships that we share in this community. So in essence this vow is to be here on Sunday morning, to be part of this community on a regular basis, not just once are twice a year but often enough to build friendships, to form community. And to engage in learning the apostles teaching, through adult forum or EFM or whenever you choose, but to know that faith education and formation is a lifelong process that doesn’t end at confirmation. When you make this vow, that’s what you’re promising to do. With God’s help.

The second is Will you persevere in resisting evil, and, whenever you fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord?

This vow reflects the knowledge is that life is a journey that has its ups and downs, that we don’t become perfect the moment that were baptized, but need to be continually turning back to god, and that god is always there waiting for us to return. This vow tells us how to deal with our mistakes, which begins by admitting that we make them. And it also requires us to live a self examined life, where we reflect on our actions and commitments and relationships, and continually seek to improve them with god’s help.

The third is Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ?

Newsflash: religion is not private. It’s not something we just do on Sunday mornings. It’s something that should affect every aspect of our lives. What we believe should be reflected in what we do and what we say. So this vow is not about thumping the bible on street corners, but about the fact that our faith should make a difference in how we live our lives. As Saint Francis said your life may be the only gospel that some people get to read. So the good news of god’s love and forgiveness should be reflected in your life, for people to see, with god’s help.

The fourth is Will you seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself?

Now it starts to get really hard. As we especially reflect on in this Epiphany season, god is not just for one group one nation, or one kind of people. God is for and in all people. Even the ones we don’t like, don’t agree with, or are actively trying to harm us. This vow asks us to make our daily decisions, from whose turn it is to do the dishes, to what job we should take, knowing that the person we’re talking to is god’s beloved child and our brother or sister. Seeing the face of Christ in others is a lifelong practice that shapes our faith and our lives and can transform the world, with god’s help.

The fifth is Will you strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being?

This vow builds on the last one and essentially asks us to be agents of god’s kingdom in the world, helping to bring the gods justice and god’s peace on earth. We can’t ignore overlook the needs of any of our brothers and sisters, remembering that Jesus told us that everyone is our neighbor. And we can never be agents of oppression or violence, whether that means not yelling our kids, or something more geopolitical. For this most of all we need god’s help.

And the miracle in the blessing is that in striving to live into these vows, we do have god’s help. And more can happen, more than we can possibly ask or imagine, if we commit ourselves to god and the same way that god has already -- from before we were born from when we were in our mother’s womb from when we were baptized as tiny infants, -- committed to us. For god says to each of us, and to these children today, the same that he said to Jesus, you are my beloved child in whom I am well pleased.

So – what page are we on? You can get the Holy Spirit here. Let’s show Dylan and Joseph that is true, today and everyday.

Sermon for the Epiphany Sunday

2012-02-02T18:35:00.001-08:00

Sermon for the Epiphany Sunday, Transferred: January 2, 2012

By the Rev. Kate Ekrem

Now that all the parties are over, the traveling is done, the gifts are open, the wrapping paper is cleaned up, we can spend a moment, some of our first moments in this new year, considering what Christmas is really all about. It’s no secret that I sometimes get frustrated with the sentimentality of this season, although at the same time it’s fun to indulge in, too. But I think part of my frustration is that when we get sucked into the sentimentality of thinking of this as the most holy, special magical time of the year, we forget to ask, why?

Well, there is a reason, and a good one. It’s a holy and magical time of year because it’s the time when we remember that God became one of us. When God, who, for centuries and millennia of human thought was up there, out of reach, maybe not really interested in creatures on the face of the earth, showed for once and for all that God was and is passionately, devotedly, interested in the ins and outs of our daily lives, so much so that God became a human being – and not by just, say automatically making himself king of everything, which he could have done, but by being born as a very ordinary baby to a very normal family. God wants us to know him. That’s the mystery of Christmas.

God wants to be in relationship with us in a way that only by being one of us can God really be. It’s sort of a hokey example, especially when applied to God, but it’s sort of like being a foreign exchange student. You can never get to know another culture or country well unless you go and live there, right? Unless you eat the food and talk the language, and experience what the schools or public transportation or health care system are like. Then you know the people, then you understand them. In a way, that’s sort of what Jesus did with us. To really know us, and to let us know him, too.

That’s why the magi, who we celebrate today, are such an important part of this story. All along the Christmas story has shown us that it’s not about who we think it should be about. It’s not about King Herod, not about the religious or political leaders. The angels appear to homeless shepherds in the hinterlands to announce this birth. Mary and Joseph are ordinary folks, and the animals are the first one to witness the birth. But just when the poor and ordinary may be thinking this story is only about them, the magi show up. To let people know it’s not about just one group or even one religion or one nation either. God is for everyone. God wants to be with all people. And maybe, perhaps, God wants all people to be for each other.

This is especially interesting because of Matthew’s gospel, which is the only one that includes this story about the magi, was written to a Jewish community. Matthew is specifically saying to his community it’s not just about you. And this was shocking news. Matthew’s community might have been justified in thinking it was all about them. After all the Bible said and still says they are God’s chosen people. But the magi show that they are to be the means by which God’s love is shown to other nations, to the whole world. And as one commentator has said the magi were only the tip of a very big iceberg. It wasn’t just about nationality but about race, gender, class, and everything else that separates people from one another. What happened in that stable was intended to catch like fire and illuminate the whole world.

So what are we to do with this? How do we let the mystery of Christmas continue on into our lives, our world, or even just the rest of this new year? I wonder about that foreign exchange student idea. I wonder if one way to bring the piece of god, the light of God that is in you, to meet the light of God that is in someone else, is to try a foreign exchange student experiment in your own life, even if just an imaginary one. Imagine life from someone else’s perspective – maybe someone you feel you just don’t understand, like people who vote for the other political party. Or imagine what the life or perspective of your boss or your secretary or your child’s teacher or go and visit Bristol Lodge soup kitchen or our food pantry and talk to the clients about their lives, or think about doing a real foreign exchange and going to El Hogar this year. And in doing that, let’s especially remember that this person also shines with the light of God, this person also is someone Jesus especially came into the world to get to know, this person also is part of the mystery of Christmas, this person may actually be a magi, a wise person from a different culture, place and time who has much to teach us about God and about ourselves.

The Epiphany season is about light. Being agents and vessels of God’s light and sharing that light with the world. The people of Israel were asked by Isaiah to be carriers of God’s light and love and purpose to all the nations. We who know the mystery of Christmas are likewise called to share the light. I think we do that whenever we let someone know of God’s love and presence with us, that God came into the world to be with us out of love for us. I think we also do that when we live out the truth of God that God is equally for all the people of the world, and God’s light shines out of the church most clearly of all when we don’t let differences be divisions, when we see clearly that in all our diversity and individuality, we are part of one whole, one light.

All Saints' Sunday - November 6, 2011

2011-11-21T07:30:00.005-08:00

Readings for the day are here

Preacher: the Rev. Sabeth Fitzgibbons

What a saint! You’re earning stars in your crown in heaven! We might say these kinds of things to people today. What prompts us to call someone a saint today?

[answers from the congregation – repeat so all can hear – affirm list of reasons]

So it takes something extra-ordinary, going beyond the usual expectations for us to call someone a saint today.

Saints, in the tradition of the church, are holy people, faithful Christians, people who share life in Christ. Sometimes saints are recognized by the church as exceptional witnesses to the Christian faith. In the early church, martyrs were given special recognition – people like the apostle Stephen, and Perpetua and Felicity, young women who died for their faith in the Roman coliseum in the 2^nd century. Later, saints were canonized as people who were instrumental in the growth of the church – people like Popes Leo and Gregory the Great, and Saints Patrick and Columba who took Christianity to Ireland.

In the early 21^st century, our understanding of saints has broadened. We do still recognize men and women who were apostles, martyrs, and other exceptional examples of Christian faith and witness by setting aside days throughout the year to remember them. Our church calendar has some 200 saints’ days on it, honoring people from the apostles who sat with Jesus to William Wilberforce, a 19^th century abolitionist, to CS Lewis who died in the 20^th century,and Oscar Romero who was martyred in 1980. AND our saints today also include every day holy people, the details of whose faithful Christian lives are not widely known.

In fact, we are all saints. As baptized Christians, on All Saints’ one of the things we celebrate is our baptism. In baptism, we die with Christ and are raised to new life in him, becoming part of the body of Christ, becoming hands and heart and feet for God’s revelation of Godself to our hurting world. As part of the body of Christ and children of God by adoption, we are holy people. Saints.

So what makes a living saint? We started out talking about what makes us call someone a saint.

Saints, living and dead, are people we might call our spiritual heroes. People who love God and are willing to take great risks for that faith. People who do extraordinary things to heal the world, who change systems that oppress people and the creation, who bring hope into dark places, who stand up for what they believe in. Sometimes these saints are people we read about in the news, and sometimes they are quiet and humble witnesses – people like our neighbors and parents and children.

Take a moment now and think about people you know, or know of, who are saints to you

Your spiritual heroes. People whose Christian faith shines from them, like the heavenly garb described in the lesson from the Revelation today. [Pause]

Got someone in mind? Take a moment to write that person or people’s names on a post-it you’ll find in your pew. Use more than one post-it if you have more than one spiritual hero. And help the younger ones among us to think of someone they admire and draw a little picture or write their name. [Pause]

Now, turn to your neighbor and tell them for 5 seconds about why this person is a saint to you. [Pause]

When you’re ready, put up those post-its on the posterboard on the wall. And this is your chance to put any photo you brought in the window with our other saints if you haven’t done that yet. [Pause]

We are literally surrounded by a cloud of witnesses, by saints ancient and modern, saints known and unknown. How beautiful!

As God’s holy people, as saints, we are called to a life of holiness, a life that reverses the expectations of the world. The blessings we hear from Jesus in today’s gospel are a challenge for all us saints – a challenge to live the characteristics of the Kingdom of God: a kingdom where grief and mourning are eternally comforted; where all hunger and thirst are satiated; where meekness rules, and oppression of people and creation is no more.

That’s a tall order – and it takes hope to sustain that vision. Oscar Romero, a martyr of the 20^th century, said this of our saintly call:

The kingdom is not only beyond our efforts,
It is beyond our vision

We accomplish in our lifetime only a tiny fraction of
The magnificent enterprise that is God’s work.
Nothing we do is complete,
Which is another way of saying
That the kingdom always lies beyond us.

We cannot do everything
And there is a sense of liberation realizing that.
This enables us to do something,
And to do it very well.
It may be incomplete, but it is a beginning, a step along the way,
An opportunity for God’s grace to enter and do the rest.

We may never see the end results…
We are prophets of a future not our own.

In a few moments we will gather for communion at this table, surrounded by a community of saints, living and dead, sharing in and renewing ourselves as the body of Christ. We will be strengthened by holy food for holy people; strengthened by the company and witness of those who have run this race before us; strengthened to do extraordinary things to heal the world, to bring hope into dark places, to stand strong in faith.

Sermon on Lay Ministry - by Jessie Maeck

2011-09-25T16:54:00.000-07:00

“Fear and trembling,” those words we heard from St Paul this morning. You can bet I’m feeling both of those at this moment.

Nonetheless, I’m Jessie Maeck, and it’s a delight, on this day we celebrate all the amazing people who do lay ministry at Redeemer, to be invited to share with you what lay ministry has come to mean to me.

A young girl named Mary might have been the first lay minister, at least to Christians.

She said “yes.”

Another person who answered a call is the first son in the parable in today’s gospel.

We’re here to celebrate lay ministry today, right?

Most of us don’t get a visit from the Angel Gabriel, and we aren’t invited to give birth to a divine part of God either. But as soon as we move just a little beyond where those paralyzed priests and elders who challenged Jesus in our Gospel reading were, as soon as we give up enough fear to be able to listen, we will be called. And usually what we’re invited to do is, in fact, to assist in the birth of something Divine.

We do get calls to do God’s work all the time, as often as the father in today’s parable must have called his sons to “go and work in the vineyard today.” A lay minister is anyone who has answered a call to “go work in the vineyard,” even if the person, like the first son in the parable, says “No” at first, but then shows up later.

For me, by now, lay ministry is the Kingdom of God drawing near. It is my chance to give birth to something Divine, to participate in God’s Kingdom right here on this earth. To me, lay ministry is a transforming experience.

And I’m pretty loose with my meaning for lay ministry by now:

Am I confusing lay ministry and mutual ministry and stewardship? Not really: all three are about doing God’s work.

For me, after more than 2 decades as a committed adult in the church, it’s all God’s work, it’s all the act of saying “yes,” instead of “We don’t know.” And since I’m not ordained, it’s all “lay ministry,”

So could lay ministry become a way of life? If it does, you become a sort of vehicle for something important, and you’re on your way to some real transformation, but on this special day when we all hold up the work we do as lay ministers, let’s just remind ourselves that there are downsides and hold them up in love and celebration too.

First, there are the sacrifices. Let’s use the priests and elders’ questions now in a different way. What if we asked ourselves, “by what authority do we do these lay ministry things, and who gave us this authority?” Well we all know the answer is “God’s authority,” but that really doesn’t help sometimes: What authority do we have to get up from the dinner table at 7:15 P.M., hand whatever child is sitting on our lap to someone else, and say, “I’m going to church for a meeting, I’ll try to be back by 9:30?” By what authority do we tell whatever young person is sitting next to us going over her Drivers Ed schedule that we’re going to have to figure out the transportation schedule later because we have to finish a report or make some calls for church? What authority do we have to go up to Lawrence for a volunteer workday with Habitat or Esperanza when we know that Saturday is the only time we can hang out with a friend who loves us?

You get the idea. We and the people who love us, and to a certain extent the people who rely on us in our work lives, we and all of them make certain sacrifices when we commit ourselves to lay ministry. Well, it’s easy to say, “I’m on a call from God,” but for your friends and family, or for your business or your job search that’s suffering from lack of attention, the joy of answering God’s call might not look so great.

Frustration with not seeing results: remember the seeds growing – you don’t get to see any sprouts until they’re ready.

Working at El Hogar has taught me it’s not my job to get God’s work finished. It’s my job to stay present and contribute my little bit and trust that God’s in charge of the big picture.

And what about those obnoxious jobs? Sooner or later you’ll answer a call and find you’re doing something that’s just plain tiresome. Maybe you just spent 25 minutes doing the last coffee mugs in church on Sunday morning after all the kids have left and the adults have finished lingering in the meeting room.

Do you think that isn’t lay ministry? Our kitchen could be a total dump. But it’s not. ‘Cause quite a few people really take the time to keep that important room in good, usable, well-supplied shape.

Steadfastness is sometimes what is required, not just courage. Most of the people we’re celebrating today are really being called up here to receive the badge of steadfastness as much as courage: they have managed to show up time after time, to make the calls, to send the e-mails. They’ve agreed to commit at that level: they’re the ones that make sure our ministries happen. Wow, what a gift to the rest of us.

courage + steadfastness:

It’s a way of life that leads to transformation

I’ve hinted twice already about transformation.

It’s when I’m given the grace to recognize I’m answering God’s call and actually doing God’s work, at that moment comes the real transformation: I’m no longer just yourself. I am myself embedded in God’s purpose.

It’s like prayer in action.

The choir is about to sing us a Gospel anthem which talks explicitly about this: “I’m gonna live so God can use me.”

“I’m gonna live so God can use me!” We’re talking about real transformation here: Imagine: I’m saying that after some time of exercising courage and steadfastness in lay ministry, in doing God’s work, we can come to actually re-focus our lives to make sure that we live in such a way that God can use us.

Don’t get me wrong: I still have to watch out for overcommitment, for saying “yes” to too many things and then letting people down, and I still have to guard against the sin of thinking I’m really the one in charge while at the same time I’m saying I’m sincerely trying to do God’s work.

But something has changed for me. I really see myself more as a servant now, not so much as a kind of agent that has individual power. And yet the irony, the unexpected thing, is that at the same time I feel plenty of power, I’m just less manipulative about it. Sure, I still want to be loved and appreciated and thanked once in a while as much as anyone, but it’s really different now: since I’m less interested in people’s response to me, I’m less like to experience failure. For me, that’s where the real peace comes in: I’m no longer afraid of failure. I’m not as likely to be disappointed if someone doesn’t think much of my efforts, or doesn’t even notice them.

Finally, I’m at peace.

But of course it’s not a restful peace; it’s incredibly active.

In closing, let’s turn to our epistle today, St. Paul talking to the congregation at Philippi: Here’s his exhortation to the Philippians, and it sounds a lot like our Gospel anthem, “I’m gonna live so God can use me.” Saint Paul told the Philippians, “work out your own salvation with fear and trembling; for it is God who is at work in you, enabling you both to will and to work for his good pleasure.” Do you hear what St Paul, a great lay minister if there ever was one, is saying? This is not intellectual fine points to help our understanding. He is using active and violent words here: “work out” “fear” and “trembling.” St. Paul is not talking about the fear and trembling that those priests and elders felt while they were so worried about what people would think about them, or the fear and trembling we experience when we’re afraid of judgment or rejection if we step too far outside the bounds. St Paul is talking about the good kind of fear and trembling we feel when we know God is present to us, despite our doubts and discomforts. That is the kind of fear and trembling the desperate, thirsty Israelites experienced as the Lord allowed Moses to smack a rock and bring water out into the desert. And what does Saint Paul say we should work out with fear and trembling? Saint Paul is talking about the ultimate goal here: salvation. Salvation! The peace of God that passes all understanding. “Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling.” And how does Paul say we’ll work out our salvation? He tells the Phillippians they’ll find their salvation when “it is God who is at work in you, enabling you both to will and to work for his good pleasure.” For me, that’s why lay ministry is the Kingdom of God drawing near. Even if I fail sometimes, it’s the way I experience God working through me. That’s my best taste on this earth of peace and salvation.
Let us read Saint Paul’s words one more time, and let us make them into our prayer this morning for ourselves and for each other, as we celebrate today all the ministries we do together and all the courageous and steadfast people who do them: Let us pray, “Gracious God who calls us always, let us work out our own salvation with fear and with trembling, for it is you who are at work in us, enabling us both to will and to work for your good pleasure.” Amen
– Jessie Maeck
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Sermon - 6th Sunday after Pentecost

2011-08-07T09:37:00.001-07:00

July 24, 2011

Proper 12 - readings here

Preacher: The Rev. Sabeth Fitzgibbons

For the past three weeks, we’ve heard Jesus using parables with his disciples, trying to describe the kingdom of heaven. One might think that the disciples were a little dense – in this one chapter of Matthew Jesus uses seven different parables to try to explain the kingdom of heaven.

Today we hear that the kingdom of heaven is like a mustard seed, or like yeast: very small things that grow into abundance; that provide sustenance – shade and nourishment; where the growing environment also determines the yield. Sun and rain, or flour and water and warmth, turn the smallest bit of substance into great and rich reward.

The kingdom of heaven is like hidden treasure, or an elusive and valuable pearl. It is worth giving up everything else to possess that precious treasure. If we let it, the kingdom of heaven can lure us (in a good way) into focusing only on it, enticing us to leave behind the anxieties, cares and concerns that come with having earthly belongings.

The kingdom of heaven is like a net full of fish of every kind - overflowing with diversity of species, rich with different ways to know and experience life whose worth is not ours to decide, but God’s. Our job is to cast the net and trust God to fill it with all that we need.

The kingdom of heaven embodies God’s nature of abundance, fruitfulness, and generosity. Unexpected in its outcome, it offers great yield or reward.

And why? Why did Jesus bother talking about the kingdom of heaven so much? Because, as Paul explains in today’s letter to the Romans, nothing separates us from the love of God. Nothing in heaven or on earth, no human-created power structure or mountain height, no obstacle we can create or imagine can shield us from God’s love for us.

The kingdom of heaven could be described as a time or space where God’s deepest desires for us – desires of love and justice, wholeness and self-acceptance, happen; where we are nourished; and where our blossoms bear witness to the world of our deep rooted peace with God and ourselves.

Sometimes this state of being, this existence, is referred to as the kingdom of God, the dominion of heaven, or the reign of God.

I have to confess that I have some trouble with the use of the words ‘kingdom’ or ‘dominion’ or ‘reign.’ These words of power over and might and domination are uncomfortable for me. In an era when we acknowledge the power of language to shape our ideas, we often focus on a loving God who is more gentle and persuasive, who changes us through love and grace rather than smiting us in anger. And I believe that Jesus’ message was one of peace and inclusion.

It also occurs to me that this kingdom we’re describing is the longed for and promised vision of God for us, as best as we can describe or understand something of God’s mind and desires. And God doesn’t just desire it for one or two of us, but for all of God’s creation. For those of us who understand God in Christ AND for those who have not heard the teachings of Jesus. For those who think and look and talk like us AND people of different complexion and language and political persuasion than us. For our friends the animals, the plants and trees, the water – for all of God’s created world. God desires lives of abundance, fruitfulness, and generosity for every bit of God’s beloved creation. For an idea to be so pervasive, a state of being to be so widespread, it IS a dominion or kingdom or reign of sorts. Not in the might is right sense, but in the sense of God’s grace and love and forgiveness being all-encompassing.

One more thing about the kingdom of heaven. The reign of God is something that’s already happening. We don’t have to wait until our eternal reward to enjoy it – it is breaking into our world and our lives here and now. In fact, God invites us to co-create this kingdom: to help create heaven on earth – as in, thy will be done on earth as in heaven.

Longed for and promised. Now and not yet. Within reach and elusive. The kingdom of heaven is all of these things.

When Kate introduced the parable of the sower a couple of weeks ago, she talked about how the disciples asked Jesus why he taught in parables because they were so hard to understand. Jesus told them that understanding the parables was a matter of how they were listening – not just with their ears, but also with their hearts. Allowing themselves, ourselves, to be touched and moved. Inspired by God’s vision, planted in our hearts, germinating and growing, nourishing us and spreading bigger than we could imagine, undeterred by any human-imagined obstacle. For the abundance, diversity, and generosity of God to give us patience and perseverance when, like Jacob, the first yield of our labors isn’t what we expected. The great reward, the one our hearts are already in love with and desiring, is to be one with God’s love and grace.

Come, be nourished at this table. Eat and become again the body of Christ for the world. And go forth, to co-create the kingdom of heaven here on earth.

Sermon - 5th Sunday after Pentecost

2011-08-07T09:26:00.000-07:00

July 17, 2011

Proper 11 - readings here

Preacher: The Rev. Sabeth Fitzgibbons

Summer seems like such an appropriate time to talk about parables of gardening, doesn’t it? Here we are in the midst of the bounty of crops well sown and tended – and now they are bearing fruit. We are especially enjoying all the fresh berries and greens at our house!

In last week’s gospel we heard about the farmer whose planting seems haphazard, who doesn’t prepare the soil and who sows his seeds on all kinds of ground – rocky, thorny, good and bad. We were reminded that God doesn’t sow genetically modified seeds for super disciples. The seeds of God have diversity and unpredictability in the fruit they bear. God’s seed is adaptable enough to grow tall and strong in all kinds of soil. Our job is preparing the soil of our hearts to be fertile and ready to receive the seed sown.

Today we hear another garden parable – this one about a diligent farmer
who prepares his field and sows his wheat seed in it. And then his enemy comes and secretly sows weeds in his field as well. When the plants begin to grow, the wheat and the weeds are intertwined. It would cause too much damage to the wheat to pull the weeds – and so the weeds are left to grow alongside the wheat until they can be separated at the harvest.

Any gardener can tell you that all prepared soil isn’t the same – we may have a patch of rocks, or sand, or some nice brown loam – or a mix of soil conditions. That’s okay, as long as we are tending the soil, removing the biggest rocks, stirring around the soil so that it is broken up from its packed down and airless fallow state. We can turn and toss the soil, making it ready to receive the seed of God that is a seed of life and hope and love, a seed that adapts to our individual soil because it so desires to grow and bear fruit.

Even as God’s seed begins to grow in the well-prepared soil of our hearts, we may find that we have some weeds growing as well. I have these weeds in my own garden. They grow quickly, greedily spreading their leaves to take the best sun away from tender young shoots of the plants I want to grow. Those same leaves also help shade the roots of my tender vegetables, helping keep the soil moist between waterings. Their roots become intertwined with the vegetables so that pulling the weeds risks uprooting a bean plant or carrots. Any of us gardeners have probably pulled a weed and found we pulled something we wanted to keep as well. And so we can see the sense of the parable in leaving the wheat and the weeds growing together.

The weeds of our hearts are also sometimes hard to separate from the fruitful, sprouting seeds. Weeds like Doubt and Fear intertwine themselves with the growing plants of our lives in God.

Even as we nurture love and adaptability, even as we try to stay focused on watering those seeds with hope we may find life-giving light blocked by Doubt. Or what seems to be a refreshing lull in the pace of life turns out to be the roots of Fear strangling our growth.

This week’s parable suggests that we let those weeds grow alongside the prolific seeds of God’s love. That we not work too hard to root them out, but instead put our energy into nurturing the seed of God in us. The seed of the knowledge that God’s love for us, and life in us, is not based on our worth or actions or perfections. I wonder what would happen if we focused our energy on God’s seed and away from the weeds – if we didn’t nurture or give in to doubt and fear, and instead put our energy into adapting God’s seed in us to new growing conditions. I wonder if God’s seed would thrive and the insidious weeds would wither.

Like last week’s story, today’s parable is about the harvest. About how God’s purposes come true, and God’s seeds always grow, always reach for the light of love. We can continue to prepare the soil of our hearts, to receive the seed of God’s life in us, to nurture it and let it root deeply. And we can acknowledge that there may be a few weeds in our garden as well – we can let them be, or examine how they shade us from fully reaching for the light of God or how they are entwined with our roots. We don’t need to spend our energy trying to pull every last weed – in doing so we might uproot the seed of God at work in us as well. Focus on the deep roots of God’s love and life in us – nurture that seed with care and it will grow strong and tall and bear much fruit for the harvest.

Sermon for the Seventh Sunday after Pentecost

2011-08-04T07:23:00.000-07:00

July 31, 2011 Proper 13A by the Rev. Kate Ekrem
Matthew 14:13-21

Sarah Dylan Breuer has observed, "Have you ever wondered why it is that, when we gather as a church to remember Jesus, we do it with a meal? If you think about it, it really could have been anything. We could have built statutes to remember Jesus, or held a dance. We could have made it a poetry reading, a teach-in, a weekly golf tournament -- but we didn't. When we gather as a church, our central act together in remembrance of Jesus is to have a meal."

In seminary I had sort of a left wing professor who said the symbol of Christianity should not be the cross, but the loaves and fishes.

I don't agree with her -- giving up your life in order to save it is actually a pretty important part of Christianity to me - but I thought her choice of a runner up symbol was a good one. Jesus feeds people. It's a key part of his identity, who he is.

So it should be no surprise that the feeding of the 5,000 is one of the very few stories, besides the crucifixions, to appear in all 4 Gospels. Clearly it was very important to the early church, and key to what Jesus was all about. The Hebrew scripture, which Jesus’ early followers knew well, said over and over again, the Kingdom of God is a feast, a banquet. So when Jesus fed 5,000 men (not including uncounted women and children) it meant to them that the Kingdom of God was right there, happening before their eyes.

There are a lot of feast in the Bible. There's actually another one in this chapter of Matthew's Gospel, right before this story, at the palace of King Herod. There the food might be better, with nice dishes and table cloths, and the people were better dressed and probably had better table manners, but the food is served alongside a large portion of intrigue, betrayal, and murder. That was the feast where the daughter of Herodias asked for John the Baptist's head to be served on a platter, to help her mother's machinations to become queen by marrying her own uncle. It's not by accident our Gospel writer put these two feasts back to back, and the contrast between the well-dressed, well-fed courtiers acting brutally to preserve their power and control, and this crowd of peasants desperate for a word of hope and a bite of bread, able to share with others lovingly and unstintingly, could not be greater. Likewise Herod is more interested in the suggestive dancing of his great-niece and saving face than in actually helping the people he rules over, while Jesus acts like a true king, a servant leader taking care of people's needs. The kind of leader who can transform a group of hungry, anxious people into a sharing community. That kind of transformation can happen to us, too, around this altar table.

The disciples are anxious, and probably hungry, too, when Jesus charges them with feeding the people. Maybe they are anxious because they see the situation as a problem to be solved. How are we possibly going to feed these people? These people are in the wrong place, we need to move them to someplace where they can get food, how can we do this logistically? But Jesus doesn't see a problem. He sees an opportunity, a moment to experience God's grace and providence. He tells them, don't get anxious or into problem-solving mode. Just sit still and share. You feed them, even though it's not enough. Be a channel for God's grace, and miracles may happen.

We've certainly been where the disciples are in this story: we have limited resources, and the needs of the world are so great. Today we have a group of people from our community, going to

Honduras

, to El Hogar Agricultural School. Our resources are limited, we can only bring so many pairs of blue jeans in our suitcases, what difference will it make? What can we do to solve the problems of Central America? Surely there is some larger solution, government policies that need to be changed, or something like that. And that's true. But Jesus says, you feed them. And he takes what the disciples have, and looks to God, and blesses it. And it's enough. It doesn't make sense that it's enough, but it is enough. This story reminds us that by seeing life as full of opportunities for God’s actions, rather than things we need to fix, just being willing to be a channel of God’s grace to others, we make a huge difference. There will be enough blue jeans. And handing them to those boys will mean so much more – to them, to us, to God -- than just a pair of pants.

The story of Herod's feast reminds us of what can happen, how very far away from God we can get, if our lives are around getting or keeping status or power or control. And the feeding of the 5,000 reminds us of what can happen when we are willing to make room for God to work in us and through us.

Those two feasts remind me of the old story of hell being a feasting table, full of wonderful food, but all the utensils are 2 feet long. People sit and stare at the food and are hungry, because they can't reach their own mouth. And heaven is a feasting table, full of wonderful food, and all the utensils are 2 feet long. People enjoy the feast immensely, because they can easily, across the table, feed each other.

At this altar table, we are fed each week, remembering Jesus in this special meal, a meal that reminds us that Jesus feeds us, gives us all we need, including the resources for our work in the world. The bread is broken so it can be shared. And the church also, the Body of Christ, is to be blessed and broken, and shared, so it can feed a hungry world with healing and hope and love and food.

Sermon for the Fourth Sunday after Pentecost

2011-07-11T12:46:00.000-07:00

Proper 10A July 10by the Rev. Kate Ekrem

Matthew 13:1-9, 18-23

Did you notice that our Gospel reading skips around a bit? We leave out verses 9-18 of this chapter and hear Jesus’s parable of the Sower, then skip to the explanation of the parable. In between, in the part that our lectionary leaves out, the disciples ask Jesus, “why do you speak in parables? They’re kind of hard to understand!” And Jesus’ response indicates that parables are not supposed to be easy to understand or easily explainable, but instead that we have to be in the right frame of mind to hear them. So the second half of our reading, the explanation, was likely not part of Jesus’ teaching

but was added later by someone trying to explain what Jesus indicated was not really very explainable.

Given that, it’s interesting that the explanation is all about us – and in some sense about our human tendency to categorize and label other people – while the original parable is more focused on the action of the Sower, on what God does, spreading God’s word in Jesus around. The tension between this parable and its explanation to me points to a tension between God’s action – planting the seed and making it grow – and our action, of being good soil. Which is most important?

There’s a children’s story about a raccoon teaching his friend the opossum how to grow a garden. The raccoon gives the opossum some seed and possum rushes home to plant the seeds. He’s very excited to see the results and the next morning runs outside to see what happened. But nothing has happened. He’s really upset. So raccoon tells him, "You can't make the seeds grow. You can only make sure they get sun and water, then watch them do their work. The life is in the seed, not in you."

The seed works in secret, under the ground, mysteriously sprouting into something. Seed is life-giving gift from God – given liberally to everyone, all places. God does not examine whether a place will receive the word, the seed, well and use it wisely before giving it. He just gives it everywhere. The seed does its work regardless of the situation – it will not be stopped from germinating. Even if seed is eaten by birds, it just gets planted someplace else (when the birds eliminate it), or if it dies rots, it goes into soil, still providing life. God’s will for the seed to create life can’t be stopped. Its nature of self-giving is never changed.

The farmer does have some work to do, preparing the ground, making sure the soil is good. It’s interesting that the Sower in the parable doesn’t do that. He doesn’t prepare the ground. He just throws seed everywhere. This sower is not actually a good farmer and not at all like our modern agribusiness. What if God was like a big agribusiness? Would then all the seeds planted in exact right place, genetically modified to do one thing only, and machines would put seeds at perfect depth and at exact density for maximum yield? What if God sowed his word this way? Hmm…. we’d have a smaller number of “crops,” of disciples, but they’d have a larger yield, more like a few super-disciples. A few chosen people who had the most possible spiritual power and mission abilities. They might really do amazing things, like build huge churches or create world-changing mission projects. And these super-disciples would do exactly the predictable thing, too. When Burpee designs a Big Boy tomato seed, it grows into a Big Boy tomato plant and nothing else. You get predictable results. Just the mission project or mega church that you want, or whatever it is. If God were an agri-buisness.

The sower sows seeds in a way totally different than that. It may waste a lot of seeds, but it has other advantages. With old fashioned seeds, you don’t know always know what you are going to get; it could cross pollinate with another plant and grow some totally different kind of tomato. It’s unpredictable, you take your chances. But it also adapts and changes. My husband is sort of a vegetable gardening nut, and he will only buy the old fashioned kind of seeds, because you can’t save genetically engineered seeds. You can’t grow a Big Boy tomato, dry the seeds, and plant them to get tomatoes next year. they won’t grow, they are sterile. But with old-fashioned seeds, you can save a couple of tomatoes and replant the seeds for next year, and they actually adapt to your backyard. That’s what Dave has been trying to do. If you do it year to year, saving the best tomatoes for seeds, they will get more and more adapted to the particular soil and weather of your own backyard. That’s natural selection, right? So your tomatoes, in a few years, might be very different from your neighbors or somebody’s in another state. Lots of different tomatoes, diversity, adaptability, unpredictability, I wonder if those are values of this sower who is sowing. I wonder if that is why the sower throws the seed liberally everywhere, rather than planting a few super-seeds.

You’d think, wouldn’t you, that God would go for the super-seeds, that God would want to create heroes and perfect disciples to do everything right to make God’s plans happen? That’s our human impression sometimes, but God apparently doesn’t work like that. God sows seed everywhere. We’re not super-disciples, but apparently, maybe were not supposed to be. Perhaps, like the opossum, we need to remember that the life is in the seed, and part of our job is to get out of the way, clear away the thorns and rocks, and let God do the work. Really, all of us are all four kinds of soil. We all have our thorns, our anxieties and concerns that keep us from God, we all have our hard places and sudden enthusiasms that we don’t follow through on. And we all have our deep ground, too. We can all be better gardeners, and spending time tilling our soil, clearing away the rocks and thorns, finding our roots, is important. How we respond to God’s seeds, God’s growth in us, is our part of the work.

But what the story is about is how God’s purposes come true. No matter where the seed is sown, the harvest will happen. Can we let that seed, the knowledge that God’s love for us, and life in us, is not based on our worth or actions or perfections, can we let it fall on fertile soil in our hearts and mind, and let it root deeply and grow tall.

On flags, worship, citizenship, and faith

2011-07-05T09:26:00.000-07:00

Article for Redeeming Features by the Rev. Kate Ekrem

Recently the worship committee has been discussing the issue of having an American and Episcopal flag in our sanctuary, in response to questions from parishioners. The flags were moved to make room for the Giving Tree at Christmas, and when we forgot to put them back right away, some members asked that they be returned, to honor our service people. When they were put back, that drew attention to them again and some other members asked that we reconsider having flags in the sanctuary as, to them, it was in conflict with the idea of separation of church and state. So, as always when five or six parishioners ask about something worship related, the worship committee discussed it. One of the things the worship committee concluded is that, as a parish, we should think a bit more about the reasons why we want to have flags in or out of the sanctuary. What does the presence of the flags mean to us and why?

For some, the presence of the flag honors our country, our freedom to worship, and especially those who serve in the military. For others, the presence of the flag hints that we might believe God favors our country over others or might be misunderstood as an object of worship.

Thinking about the flag in our worship space does bring us face to face with the question of what is the right relationship between our faith in Jesus Christ and our loyalty to our country. I actually think at Redeemer we’re in close agreement about that. While there may be a misperception that those in favor of the flag in the sanctuary believe we can somehow have an equal relationship between these two things, I am sure that all of us – pro-flag or anti-flag – know that our commitment to God always, always comes before our commitment to our country. We know it’s important to not fall into the trap of thinking “God’s on our side” (I’ve always liked Abraham Lincoln’s point: it’s not about whether God’s on our side, but whether we’re on God’s side.) And we’re all saddened, when it seems like American war casualties are counted more carefully and held to be more important than casualties from other countries. We know that we are, regardless of where we were born, all God’s children, and God has no nationality.

And likewise while there might be the misperception that the those who want to remove the flag aren’t very patriotic or don’t appreciate the service of people in the military, I’ve noticed that everyone on all sides of this discussion has said how important it is that we pray for our service people and government leaders out loud in church each Sunday. So, I think we can agree that we’re all equally supportive of our service people, and equally aware that God is more important than country.

The question still remains: what does having the flag in the sanctuary say (as symbols are worth far more than a thousand words) to us, our children, and those who visit our church? Does it say “we support our service people” or does it say (to put it bluntly) “we worship America as well as Jesus”.

This may be a question to talk about more. But in the meantime, here’s some food for thought, from the Bible and Christian history:

-- St. Paul said that Christians should be good citizens, obey local authorities, and pay taxes (Romans 13:1-7).

-- Early Christians were prosecuted because they refused to say “Caesar is Lord,” which was required by the Roman government to show allegiance to the emperor. Christians insisted the “Jesus is Lord” and therefore went to jail or were executed (including St. Paul).

-- Christians from St. Paul (Philippians 3:20) to St. Augustine (in his book City of God) to the present day have affirmed that we have “dual citizenship” in the Kingdom of Heaven.

-- Most mainline Protestant churches have issued statements that flags generally should not be in worship spaces, but when they are used should be clearly below the cross. The Episcopal Church has not issued any statement on the subject.

-- Some churches display the American flag alongside the flags of other countries where they have missionaries serving or flags of the home countries of members of their congregations.

What does the flag say to you? What do you think it says to visitors to our church? Could there be confusion or misunderstanding about what it is communicating? As we talk about larger issues of making changes to our worship space, the worship committee would like to hear what others think about these questions.

Sermon for The Third Sunday After Pentecost by Bob King

2011-07-03T10:37:00.000-07:00

The American Flag in Christian Worship - Bob King July 3rd, 2011

Zechariah 9:9-12 “Rejoice greatly, O daughter Zion! ... Lo your king comes to you; ... humble and riding on a donkey, ...”

Romans 7:15-25a “I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate ... “

Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30 “To what will I compare this generation? It is like children sitting in the market places and calling to one another, ‘We played the flute for you and you did not dance; we waited, and you did not mourn.’ For John came neither eating nor drinking, and they say, ‘He has a demon’; the Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, ‘Look, a glutton and a drunkard, a friend of tax collectors and sinners!’ Yet wisdom is vindicated by her deeds ...”

O Lord, give us inquiring and discerning hearts, the courage to will and to persevere, a spirit to know and to love you, and the gift of joy in all your works.

Last Advent, we had removed the American and Episcopal Church flags from the sanctuary to make room for the mitten tree, and no one thought to put them back until a parishioner mentioned it this spring. When the flags were returned, other parishioners questioned if they belonged. This exchange encouraged Kate to open a conversation about the flags with the congregation, and what better way to start than with a sermon on Fourth of July weekend,
preferably by a lay person with tenure in the congregation. I think that each us at some level appreciates the opportunity to share our thoughts on themes that are important to us, but I confess that when Sabeth asked me to do so on this subject on this weekend, I was not at all sure. Patriotism, the flag, and, for that matter, any of the symbols we use in our liturgy often to incite strong reactions in a congregation. I’ve certainly learned that much from being on the Worship Committee. And a few minutes reading internet blogs on flags in churches confirms it.

My patriotic impulses run very deep. Do those of you of my generation remember the Landmark books on American history that we read as children? Francis Marion, the Swamp Fox, Ethan Allen and his Green Mountain Boys, Paul Revere and the Battle of Lexington and Concord. I read them all. Having the opportunity to live in Lexington as an adult was a dream come true for me! As a college student and adult, I spent almost ten years with the military service: almost four years each in ROTC and on active duty, and two years in the active reserve. I can still remember welling up in tears during a film we saw at Commander’s Call showing American planes delivering desperately needed food to the people of Somalia during their civil war in 1970s. And yet… when Mary Etta and I worshiped last July 4th with her brother in Georgia and the congregation began the service with the Pledge of Allegiance, I felt violated. I love my country—the land, its people, sometimes even its political and military leaders—but for patriotic feelings, no matter how justified, to intrude upon the worship of God, seemed very wrong to me.

I’ve spent some time over the past two weeks trying to make sense both of my own feelings and the practices of American religious congregations regarding the flag. One thing I learned is that display of the national flag in worship space is a distinctly American tradition. Even in countries with state-affiliated churches—Anglicans in England, Lutherans in Norway—the national symbol is almost always kept outside of the sanctuary. The second thing I learned is that the display of the American flag in worship is relatively recent and was often defensive: Irish and Italian Catholics in the early 20th century when anti-Catholic prejudice was running high; Conservative and Reformed Jewish congregations wanting to show their loyalty to America even as they support Israel; politically conservative churches reacting to the banning of prayer in schools or to anti-war sentiments during the Vietnam era. I also learned that the national Catholic and mainline protestant bodies that have taken a position on flags in the sanctuary have usually come down against it, but with final deference to local bishops, clergy, or lay governing boards. For many American Christians, including, I suspect, most members of Redeemer, the presence or absence of the flag is scarcely noticed. Hence it’s probably less important whether or not we display the flag than why, with that “why” being a reflection of the values we hold most dear.

The crux of the question for Christians, of course, is does the intrusion of a national symbol distract us from worshipping the one true God, or imply an allegiance equal to or above our allegiance to Christ?

There are good reasons why the tension may not be so great, and I’ll make use here, with some paraphrasing, of a list compiled by Michael Spencer, a hospice chaplain in Indiana:
1) We’re grateful for the right to worship freely in this country, so we display the flag as a way to say we’re appreciative of that right.
2) We don’t worship the flag, and references to it in worship are rare.
3) Just because we display the flag doesn’t mean we’re not free to criticize our government if we believe it is violating Christian principles.
4) If asked, most of us would quickly and sincerely deny that we put our American citizenship above our aspirations for God’s kingdom.
5) Scripture tells us to show proper respect to government (“Render unto Caesar…”) and that is all the presence of the flag does.

I particularly like this last point, because it also reminds us that our government is made up of people, sinners just like us, …who, as Paul confesses in Romans, try but fail to put their professed ideals into action. Is it just our leaders who are like the spoiled children in today’s gospel, who reject John the Baptist as too ascetic, and Jesus as too indulgent — you could think “Democrats” and “Republicans” in the current Washington discourse ! —or are we ourselves too focused on a particular political ideology or a particular brand of patriotism to hear the voice of God calling us to love one another, and not just those who agree with us or those of our own nation? Perhaps the presence of the flag can remind us that our faith cannot be practiced only in private or even in voluntary associations. Until God’s kingdom comes, government will be an important part of our life in community. We certainly affirm that at Redeemer when we partner with government agencies in supporting the work of Bristol Lodge and the Grow Clinic.

On the other side of the question, I would emphasize two values:

The first is the universality of our faith. We are called, as one commentator said, to be “Christians without borders”. When a stranger walks into our sanctuary, every visible sign should say “We welcome you”, whether you are an Anglican from Canada, England, India, or Africa, a Christian from another tradition, or a non-believer, we want you to feel at home. For some worshipers who are not American citizens, the presence of the flag is not offensive, but for others it is, either because it is was not part of their tradition or because of the negative views of America held by much of the world. Dare we err on the side of spiritual exclusion?

The second question we should ask is how does the flag—or for that matter any of the symbols we use in our sanctuary—affect the way we approach worship? Perhaps we can learn something from Zechariah. He was addressing the people of Judah upon their return to Jerusalem after a generation in captivity, having been freed by a secular ruler, Cyrus of Persia. Like our 18th century forebears, his people were facing the task of building a nation. Zechariah invokes many images to make his point: four horns and four craftsmen to contrast the forces that scatter with those forces that build, clean garments for the high priest to encourage justice; lamp-stands, olive trees, flying scrolls, a woman in a basket, chariots, mountains of bronze, horses red, white, and brown—he goes on and on. And then we get to the passage we read this morning: What is the image of Zion’s King? a donkey! No crown, no eagle, no flag. Sometimes I bemoan the fact that we don’t have an image of a donkey somewhere in sanctuary.

What we do have, of course, at the center of our worship is bread and wine, products of the “fruited plain” and “amber waves of grain” about which we so love to sing. They give us sustenance, and they are powerful symbols of a sharing and caring community. It is my hope that even as we give thanks for the men and women whose vision and courage made it possible for us to worship today in freedom, we will never conflate their success or ours with God’s will for the peoples of the Earth, but rather hold fast in our faith in the One who enters Zion on a donkey, humble and righteous.

Feast of Pentecost

2011-06-12T09:16:00.000-07:00

June 12, 2001 by the Rev. Sabeth Fitzgibbons

Wind, fire, water. Three basic elements – all unpredictable and powerful.

Wind: we can’t see air moving; we can only see, hear, and feel the manifestation of where it has been; by the time we see the evidence, the wind itself is gone; as breath, it literally gives us life.

Fire: we can see it; it dances and engulfs; we cook with it and it warms us; we may even think we control it and that illusion can cause us to be careless with it.

Water: we can see and feel; in rain and ocean, ponds and rivers; in baptism where we die and are reborn in it; it is a powerful force for nurturing life, and yet sometimes it takes its own course.

All three – wind, fire, and water – can be dangerous and destructive. Tornadoes and hurricanes, forest fires and tidal waves are all unpredictable and unexpected. They are not things we can create, and yet we experience them. We cannot control them. Overconfidence about our control of our environment may actually make us more vulnerable to the forces of wind, water and fire. We might as well have been talking about God’s Spirit here.

Wind, fire and water are all ways we talk about the Holy Spirit. A sound like a rushing wind fills the house where the disciples gather. Tongues, as of fire, rest upon them as they receive the Spirit. Today we baptize in water to remember the gift of the Spirit at baptism.

Today is Pentecost, when we celebrate the birth of the Church, something that happens as the disciples, male and female, receive the gift of the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit manifests itself in the disciples as the ability to speak the languages of all the peoples of the known Jewish world. The people are amazed because they hear of God’s deeds of power in their own language. The Holy Spirit empowers and emboldens the disciples to tell the good news in ways that every person on earth can hear and understand.

Pentecost is a day, and indeed a season that begins today and continues until Advent, when we explore what it means to be aflame with the power of a living God.

The Spirit of God, along with the other two parts of that inseparable relationship of the Trinity, interrupts and invades our ordinary lives right where we are. The Spirit invades the ordinary lives of the disciples gathered for a regular religious festival, going about their usual lives in community with one another, 10 days after Jesus’ ascension and still wondering what it means to live into Jesus’ commission to them to continue his work in the world. When Jesus said he’d send a companion to them, I don’t think they expected a rushing wind and the force of unknown languages issuing forth from their own mouths proclaiming God’s amazing deeds.

Some 2000 years later we don’t usually experience the Holy Spirit interrupting our ordinary lives with such force. We have the choice to either close our eyes and ears and ignore the holy invasion, OR to allow ourselves to be caught off guard and swept up in God’s mysterious transforming work of making all things new. Either way, God is set loose on the world. We are invited to join in – to participate in bringing healing to a broken world. Be warned – it won’t be what we expect. The Holy Spirit seldom asks us to do the same old same old, or the easy, comfortable thing, or even the thing that makes most sense to us.

Living as God’s spirit-guided people is about wanting what God’s wants for us and letting God’s creative spirit move through us. Not so we can do what we think is best, but so that we can be used to communicate through word and action the Good News sent from God through Jesus that God wants to reside in us. God wants to reside in us so much that God comes to us like a strong wind, blowing through our cracks, filling up our hollow spaces with the Holy Spirit, the presence of God within us to move us and guide us towards God’s wisdom.

We would like to put the Holy Spirit in a box, to have control, or at least the illusion of it, to know our gifts and how to use them when we want. This is the same Spirit that we characterize like wind or fire or water – unpredictable, able to escape confinement, perhaps not really able to be confined. A Spirit in whom we are aflame with the power of the living God.

“If we downplay the Spirit’s presence, then it is we who decide what it means to be church, who gets to be part of God’s kingdom, and what role we will play in it” (Enuma Okoro, “Holy Spirit Mapping,” Sojourners, June 2011, p.48).

The reverse of that is that if we open ourselves to the Spirit, we don’t decide what it means to be church, we don’t decide who is in or out of God’s kingdom, and we don’t decide what role we will play in it.

Accepting the Spirit’s holy invasion in our lives is risky – playing with fire always is. What if we risk asking, Holy Spirit, what are you calling me to do? What are you calling us, as people of God, to do or be in response to this broken world? Not thinking we already know the answer, and being willing to listen to the prophets among us. Like Peter tells the crowd who hear the disciples speaking in tongues – It’s a time for young people to prophesy and see visions, for elders to dream dreams. The Psalmist echoes the possibilities of God’s Spirit to continually renew the earth and all God’s creation, us included.

Let’s choose to be open to the holy invasion of the Spirit, to the interruption of our comfortable daily lives. Let ourselves be filled, and moved – moved by the Spirit into God’s dreams for us and for all of creation. It’s our birthday as followers of Christ – let us celebrate our faith and our Church, and let us celebrate the Holy Spirit, and her presence in our lives today – as real as tongues of fire and a rushing wind.

Ascension Sunday

2011-06-05T09:15:00.000-07:00

June 5, 2011, by the Rev. Kate Ekrem

Ascension Day is kind of a funny little church festival, tucked away at the end of Easter and so close to Pentecost it often gets overlooked. Maybe we also think it’s funny because of the funny pictures it has inspired. There is a whole genre of Renaissance paintings of the disciples looking up in the air, confused looking, at some little white clouds with Jesus feet poking through. That’s all you see of Jesus, just his feet as he ascends into heaven. If that’s our image of Ascension Day no wonder it gets overlooked. But actually, what Ascension Day is about is pretty important.

After the resurrection, Jesus spends some time with his friends, and that must have been great time together. But then he left. No wonder they were staring at his fete. They must’ve been thinking, huh? Why are you leaving? What happens next? What about us?

What about us? Jesus took on our humanity, and he took that humanity with him when he ascended to the right hand of God, as Paul says. I wonder if the disciples remembered, when they were standing there staring at Jesus’ feet, that Jesus had told them, where I go you will also be (John 14), I go to prepare a place for you. Jesus went to the throne of God. I don’t know if we take that in, if we take that seriously all the time. We know that Jesus is, as the old language puts it, king and ruler over all. But do we remember that through our baptism and our participation in Jesus’ life and ministry, we are also heirs to God’s kingdom?

It reminds me of one of the lesser known of C.S. Lewis’s Chronicles of Narnia, the children’s book the Silver Chair. The book is about a prince, the heir of the kingdom of Narnia, who has been kidnapped by an evil witch. She uses magic to keep him in her power and forget who he is and tells him she is building an army so that he can take over the kingdom of Narnia, she’s going to make him king. When he finally gets free and finds out who he really is, he says to her, you were going to make me king? I’m already the heir of that kingdom, I don’t have to conquer it with an army; it’s already mine. She was trying to trick him into attacking his own kingdom, and taking over what was already his.

I am quite sure C.S. Lewis intended this to be a metaphor for the human condition. We feel powerless, not in control. Having tornadoes in Massachusetts definitely reminds us that we’re not in control of this world, or what happens to us. So, sometimes, we overcompensate by trying to control what we can. It’s taken me a long time to come to terms with the fact that it’s really OK if Lucy wears plaid pants with a stripped shirt to school. I don’t need to be in control of that. Now, for church on Sunday that’s a completely different issue!

Sometimes, in our despair over our own powerlessness, we take it even further than what our kids wear. We try to pass laws to control others, or to privilege our group, race, class, whatever, over another group. If you think of white supremacist groups, there are some people who really feel powerless. We misuse and abuse power, because we feel like we’re not in control. But that’s because we’re not listening to Jesus. Jesus said, where I go you will go. You will be clothed with power from on high. We don’t need to create our own power, we have God’s power. We don’t have to steal a kingdom that’s already ours. We don’t have to put other people down to raise ourselves up.

And sometimes we have the opposite problem. We think, who am I to claim any kind of power or authority in the world, or even in my own community? I went to a spirituality workshop recently where the speaker was telling us to remember that we are God’s beloved children. Then she asked us to turn to the others at our table and talk about what that felt like, to say out loud that we are God’s beloved. I was paired up with an older gentleman who I’ve always regarded as being just very holy and a good person, a clergy person who I’ve always hoped, someday I could be a priest like that. . So I was surprised when he said, I can’t really relate to being God’s beloved. I’m not that great. What’s so special about me? We talked about it for awhile and decided there is a big difference in saying, I’m beloved, everyone loves me, I’m so great. And saying, I’m God’s beloved, God loves me and that truly does make me special and important. When we puff ourselves up, it’s just air. But God’s puffing is the breath of the Holy Spirit. The Holy Spirit that has clothed us with power from on high.

I mean, do you know how important you are? You are heir to the kingdom of God! All of creation is just waiting for you to come into your kingdom. We have been clothed with power from on high. We have the power to work with God, not against God, to create a just and peaceful world.

The Ascension proves this to us in two ways. First, we may think, we may know, that our humanity is broken and full of faults, but the Ascension shows how valuable humanity is to God. Jesus drew our humanity into the very heart of God.

Second, God trusts us to carry on the work without micromanagement. Have you ever had a boss who is a micromanager, who hangs over you and checks every little thing? How annoying is that? God is not like that. Jesus leaves, he says, power is coming, you guys will be fine, you can do it. We have faith in God, but God also has faith in us. That’s big, that’s strong medicine. God trusts us to do God’s work in the world without Jesus hanging over us double-checking everything. We are empowered by God.

So as the disciples are sitting there, watching Jesus’ feet, angels appear to them and say, Men of Galilee, why do you stand here looking up into the sky? In other word, whatcha standin’ around for? Jesus has gone to the throne of God, you also are heirs of God’s kingdom. You are clothed with power from on high. No need to stand around looking for Jesus. He’s everywhere you are. Go and claim your place in God’s kingdom.

Sermon for the Sixth Sunday in Easter

2011-05-29T09:08:00.000-07:00

May 29 2011 by the Rev. Kate Ekrem

“Always be ready to make your defense to anyone” – 1 Peter 3:15

Warning: today’s sermon is interactive! Mentally prepare yourself for talking with your neighbor in your pew.

Do you have an elevator speech? You know what I mean, the 30 second or 1 minute pitch about what’s important to you, when someone asks “what’s up with you” on an elevator? It’s generally what you’re selling or what you want your boss to think you’re doing in? I used to work in book publishing, where people actually did have elevator speeches. It was a tall office building, and everyone was always lobbying the boss
to invest in their publishing project, not some other project, so everyone had their 30 second speech on the latest hot book they want to acquire. And when the executive editor stepped into the elevator, out it came. The poor woman probably started taking the stairs.

Our letter from Peter this morning suggests that it’s worth having an elevator speech about your life and your faith. “Always be ready to make your defense to anyone.” Peter was writing in a time when Christians probably had to make their elevator speech to the Roman authorities. Who are you worshipping and how? So they could decide to send them to jail or not. Peter’s telling them, when you get arrested, just speak your piece no matter what happens.

Today we fortunately don’t have to justify ourselves before the legal authorities. But in this age, when going to church, particularly on Memorial Day weekend, makes you different from most people, people probably ask you, why do you go to church? What if a parent on the sideline of soccer field or friend at party asks, what do you believe about God? What does your faith mean to you? Why do you call yourself a Christian?

If your reaction to this is, who am I to tell people about God, then take a closer look at our Gospel today. The Holy Spirit, the Advocate, is in you. There is no one who is more of an authority on the Christian life and faith than you are. As Jesus said, “You know him, because God abides with you, and God will be in you.”

What’s your elevator speech about your faith life? This is the interactive part. Why do you go to church, or why do you call yourself a Christian? Can we take 5 minutes, and share your speech with your neighbor, and listen to theirs?

(Pause for discussion.)

Anyone have a good one you want to share with? What did you hear from your partner?

So now you have your elevator speech. Have it ready, as St. Peter suggests. Because if people are asking you those questions, at the soccer field or at the party or at the office, they have a real need to hear your answer. A real need to connect with the HS in you. A real need to get some of what you’ve already got, what you talked about in your sharing.

Paul had his elevator speech ready for the people of Athens. Busy place where he only had people’s attention for a sound-bite’s worth.: there’s only one God, he wants you to repent and change your life, and he raised Jesus from the dead to show us how important that is.

But I think I like Jesus’ best: he left his disciples with these parting words: love others as I have loved you. That’s an elevator speech we can all take to heart.

Sermon for the Fifth Sunday in Easter

2011-05-22T09:04:00.000-07:00

by the Rev. Sabeth Fitzgibbons

We’re starting with a poll this morning. How many of you have been to a service that ordains new members to Christ’s priesthood? Let’s see a show of hands. How many of you have attended a baptism? How many of you are members of Christ’s priesthood? Every baptized person in this room is a member of a holy priesthood.

Today’s epistle reading from the First Letter of Peter is the first time we hear the word priest applied to people who are not members of the sacred tribe of priests. Rather, all believers are members of a royal priesthood by their baptism.

Reborn by the water of baptism, the writer exhorts believers to be like infants, longing for nourishment so they can grow. Let yourselves be built, he says, into a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood. You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, Gods’ own people.

Why? In order that you may proclaim the mighty acts of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light. Now you are God’s people!

As we participate in Christ’s death and resurrection through our baptism, so we also participate in Christ’s priesthood. Jesus was not a member of the sacred tribe of priest of

Israel

, Nor was he an ordained priest. Jesus “priesthood” is best known through his relationships – in how he treated those around him with authenticity and respect, as he reflects the Holy to them and invites them into relationship with the sacred. Through him, people are invited to the Holy in the form of Health, Hope, Good News, and Love (L. William Countryman, Living on the Border of the Holy, 53), the core messages of Jesus’ ministry.

Bill Countryman, a contemporary Episcopal author and poet, observes about Jesus’ priesthood that “to be in the presence of the ONE WHO IS, the POWER that created all things, and the LOVE which can never be driven away is both exhilarating, because it means we are in the presence of the ultimate GOOD, and terrifying, because it seems to threaten our rather puny control over our own lives” (53). Jesus is the ultimate and perfect example of the priesthood of our baptism that we aspire to live into. As we aspire to live our priesthoods with integrity and love, generosity and courage, we look to Jesus’ priesthood, to his relationships to guide us.

Jesus, the way, the truth, and the life. In this case, the way the truth and the life are not absolutes, but are ways Jesus is in relationship with God and with us. Jesus models a relationship with God that is the way and the truth and the source of life. Our source of life and hope for our own lives and priesthood. The challenge of our own lives as Christians, as members of a royal priesthood, is one of being genuinely present to and engaged with our life and world.

None of our priesthoods are not identical, nor can they be lived out in the same ways. Our priesthood CAN be learned as we practice it in conversation with the Holy One and with the world and with other priests around us. One of the holiest ways we practice our priesthood is in friendship – friendship that honors and listens to the other, that seeks relationship that is humble and healthy. Priesthood is practiced in all kinds of relationships – parenting, childhood, teachers, mentors.

Today we celebrate priestly ministries of members of our community. We celebrate the priesthood of Rising Rite-13 members on their spiritual journey, moving toward the transition to adulthood, bringing with them childhood’s clarity. We celebrate the priesthood of our youth choir members whose music calls us all to worship in word, melody and harmony. We celebrate the priesthood of acolytes who lead us in worship, calling our focus to the Word in which we hear about God’s relationship with us, and to the Table where we are nourished as members of Christ’s body. And we celebrate the priesthood of Christian Formation leaders, whose very presence with our children and youth bears witness to God’s love for them.

My sister and brother priests, it is time for each of us to claim our priesthood: To know ourselves holy and precious in God’s sight; To consciously choose to live in communion with the Holy, with authenticity and integrity, reconciliation and love; To seek nourishment and fellowship with other priests of Christ as we continually grow into our holy priesthood as God’s own people.

We have been called out of darkness into God’s marvelous light. And now we are called to live as priests to the world – bearing witness with our lives and words to God’s mighty love and saving grace.

Easter Day Sermon

2011-05-12T08:15:00.000-07:00

Readings for Easter Day, Year A, (Acts 10:34-43, Psalm 118:1-2,14-24, Colossians 3:1-4, John 20:1-18) are here.

‘Mary,’ he says. He utters just her name. That one, familiar word stops her short, her tears of despair and grief still in her eyes and wet on her face. Her eyes, perhaps a little blinded by the white of the angels in the tomb, finally focus on him. She knows that voice. It’s Jesus! He is alive!

She’s crying again – this time with relief and joy. She reaches to hug him, to feel the solidness of him. “Do not hold on to me,” he says, “for I have not yet ascended. Go, tell my brothers and sisters, I am ascending to my Father and your Father, to my God and your God” (Jn 20:17). And she rushes to tell the disciples she has seen the risen Jesus and the message he gave her for them.

In this brief first encounter with the risen Jesus, we already sense that something has changed. Jesus, who, in his earthly ministry, personally told good news about an all-forgiving and all-loving God, sends Mary Magdalene to shout out the good news of his resurrection.

Mary goes, to bear witness, to testify to what she has seen and heard. Where Peter and the beloved disciple both witness the empty tomb, they see for themselves that Jesus’ body is not there, they both go home to have another cup of coffee. Mary not only witnesses the resurrected Jesus, she bears witness: she goes and tells the world what she has seen. Mary’s testimony does not end that Easter morning – she goes on to testify about the risen Jesus for the rest of her life.

In his earthly ministry Jesus was with his disciples constantly. From the time he called them out of their lives, saying, ‘Come, follow me,’ the disciples accompanied Jesus everywhere. They ate together and lodged together. Jesus taught with stories and parables, and they listened at his feet. He performed miracles, healed people and cast out demons – and the disciples were there, watching. He prayed, and taught them to pray. He spoke the radical truth of God’s all-inclusive love to the imperial powers, and was executed for his unwavering faith, and his disciples watched. They were witnesses to Jesus’ ministry. He said, ‘Come, follow,’ and they came and learned his message first-hand.

Things are different with the resurrected Jesus. When he tells Mary Magdalene, ‘Go, tell about what you have seen and heard,’ we understand that the script has changed. No longer, ‘Come, follow,’ now Jesus says, ‘Go, tell.’ Instead of being witnesses to Jesus’ ministry, the disciples are now to bear witness to the world about Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection.

The post-resurrection Jesus is not the same guy who was his disciples’ constant guide. His post-resurrection appearances are sporadic and he’s often harder to recognize when he does appear. He clearly appears to his followers in the upper room, so they can see his risen form for themselves.

He comes and goes – and he’s hard to hold on to. When he is there, his disciples sometimes don’t recognize him. Sometimes he just appears and disappears. He eats with his disciples, and he feeds them breakfast on the seashore. He walks with them on the road to Emmaus. He blesses them, and he commissions them to continue his ministry of healing and spreading the good news of God’s love for the world. He promises them the Holy Spirit, as God’s constant presence with them.

Encountering the risen Jesus is life-changing. He has changed from a beloved teacher to a sign of God’s power in the world, to the world. We are implicated in the resurrected Jesus’ command to ‘Go, tell the world.’

Like the early disciples, we would like our old Jesus back: the one who comforts us and teaches us and leads us along the way. In resurrection time, we are the ones to bear witness to the world. No longer followers, WE are the bearers of the good news. And we have good news to tell!

Jesus is risen! God’s love has conquered sin and death. In our baptisms we die with Jesus and are raised to new life with him in his resurrection. Living now, in resurrection time, we are liberated. We no longer live in fear of death because we know our sins are forgiven. Not that we should live recklessly but that we are not living for the glory of this world. The world’s judgment ultimately has no hold on us because we are forgiven and beloved children of God.

Living in resurrection time, we are more free to love the risen Christ. More free to bear witness to the ways we, like the early disciples, glimpse the resurrected Jesus here and there: In the eyes of a stranger on the road, in the faces around the table when we break bread, in the holy moments of conversation or quiet with close friends.

The story of the risen Jesus is still unfolding, and we are in it. It is a story happening in real time.

Go! Tell our brothers and sisters, tell the world, that Jesus Christ is risen today!

Easter Vigil Matt 28

2011-05-11T08:48:00.000-07:00

Matthew 28:1-10

Well, here we are. The pain and suffering of the week is over. Victory is our’s … God has won … Christ has triumphed over death! … But is IT our victory? Is it the victory we wanted or expected? Surely, the followers of Jesus had a different victory in mind. Even though Jesus had told them repeatedly that His kingdom … God’s kingdom … was different than what they might expect … that it was counter to their way of thinking … they didn’t understand. So now that Jesus has been crucified and is risen, His followers must still be fearful … and still failing to understand. I’m confident they had vivid images of the crucifixion, and were ever mindful of soldiers coming for them to further crush the movement.

I have to ask myself, if this is God’s victory … why do people seem so “afraid” … why do we hear in Matthew’s Gospel, “do not be afraid?” repeatedly. My guess is that although some kind of victory has taken place, the disciples are still human. Like any of us, they feared the unknown. I suspect they feared this experience … the crucifixion and the resurrection … which must have left them confused and terrified about what would happen next.

I can easily imagine Jesus’ followers asking the question, “Who, exactly, won here?” Jesus isn’t with us in the flesh. He isn’t doing His thing, healing people and preaching God’s Word. As such, I think it would be really easy to think “they”… the bad guys … are the ones who won, because certainly life will never be the same. And I’m confident those who put Jesus to death were thinking they had finally ended the insurrection that Jesus had begun … his movement would surely die with him.

Christ’s followers must have started to fall back on their own interpretations and expectations … back on what they thought they knew from scripture. Can’t you just hear them in their confusion? I can imagine the kinds of things they must have been expecting … that maybe even you and I would have been expecting. I can imagine someone saying, “if God is victorious, where are all his throngs of angels?” Or someone saying, “Isn’t this when God is supposed to usher in a kingdom … the kingdom?” “Where are the signs of God’s kingdom? Where are the signs of God’s wrath?” “And certainly in the absence of reinforcements sent by God, Christ’s people must have been thinking to themselves … I bet I’m next on a cross. Someone is going to turn me in as one of Jesus’ followers, and I’m going to be executed, too. These are very human responses to confusion and misunderstanding. And in many ways, their fears were justified. Just look at the next several hundred years and think about how many people were persecuted and martyred for the faith. So again, if “we” won … if God won … I have to wonder why God’s people are so afraid? … why are we so afraid?

As I think of this question of being afraid and not understanding what has transpired, I recall a joke someone once told me, and some of you may have heard before. I like it because it demonstrates how our attempts to contain God … to understand God’s action … aren’t as we might expect. So if you’ll indulge me a minute.

There was this man who lived in a flood zone. At one point there was a major flood coming, and so a neighbor stopped by in a truck and offered this other man a ride. He replied, “no thank you. I’m going to stay because I’ve prayed to God and God is going to save me.” A little while later the waters rose higher and began to flood his house. Along came another person and offered him a ride in a boat. Again, the man replied, “no thank you. I’m going to stay because I’ve prayed to God and God is going to save me.” The waters continued to rise until the man was forced on to the roof. This time a helicopter came by and offered to take the man to safety. Again, the man replied, “no thank you. I’ve prayed to God and God is going to save me.” Finally the water rose so high that the man drowned. He arrived in heaven and came face to face with God. Immediately he asked, “God, where were you? I prayed to you and trusted that you’d save me.” To which God casually replied, “Who do you think sent the truck, the boat and the helicopter?”

My point here is that things aren’t always what we think they are or what we think they ought to be. We get so caught up in looking for what we expect that we miss God’s presence. God may be with us all along, and we just don’t see it or understand God’s action. I think this is at the heart of the “do not be afraid” message after the resurrection, and it’s a very poignant message that’s still applicable today.

Do we continue to be afraid? Do we continue to fail to understand the resurrection in our lives? Do we continually fail to understand God’s action? I think so. As I think about this, I think about the wider church. I think of the struggles we have in the life of the church. We often expect certain things of the church and have an understanding of what the church is, based on our own assumptions and our preconceived notions. And sometimes those are accurate, and sometimes they are completely fictional. We fear the unknown. We fear what we don’t understand.

Our image of the church, for example, might be very much how we perceive ourselves and how we perceive the rest of the world … more often than not, led by white, well-educated, heterosexual males. So we often struggle when the church reflects racial diversity both in the pulpit and the pews … we struggle when women are ordained and assume leadership roles in the church … and we struggle when our Bishops ordain people who identify as gay and lesbian. We’re no longer a church of cradle Episcopalians, people raised in the Episcopal Church. As we integrate people from other faith stances and traditions and different walks of life from our own, we see opportunities to break out of the ruts of “but we’ve always done it that way.” But we also recognize that we’ll change in other ways. We grow uncomfortable because the integration of other voices leads the church to become something else … something new and different.

We look around the church and feel uncomfortable because it isn’t what we expected … it isn’t what we signed on for … it doesn’t reflect what we thought God’s church would or should look like. And, so then, we have to figure out how to live with the fact that the church is God’s church and not ours … it’s the church God has given us. We may not always like it … we may not understand it … but it’s God’s action just the same. And in the midst of our confusion … God’s message to us is the same … Do not be afraid.

Now I’ve talked a lot about confusion and about being afraid. I think it’s all too easy to walk away from the experience of the crucifixion and resurrection and miss the fundamental point that God did win … and God won on God’s terms. For our sake … for you and me … Christ willingly and obediently went to the cross. And God overcame death by raising Christ from the dead. Not even the bonds of death can contain God. Those who crucified Jesus thought they had won, because the act of killing … dying and death … reflect an earthly perspective of ultimate power. It was what they expected and understood. And yet God was stronger.

This is the Easter message … As Jesus says, "Do not be afraid. Go and tell my brothers and sisters they will see me. I will meet them." And Jesus’ message to us on this and every Easter is that He will always meet us. In every situation, every challenge, every sorrow … in all of our brokenness … He will meet us. In every act of kindness, mercy, and compassion, He will meet us and be with us. In every kind of ministry, service, and witness, He will meet us and bless what we do, what we give, and what we hope. In every time of study, prayer, and worship, He will meet us and be in the midst of us. So although the next step … possibly any step … in the Christian story, may not be what we expect, Jesus’ message to us this and every Easter is do not be afraid, because He will always be with us.…do not be afraid.

In the name of God, Father, Son & Holy Spirit. Amen

Sermon for Third Sunday in Easter

2011-05-08T10:48:00.000-07:00

May 8, 2011 by the Rev. Kate Ekrem
Luke 24:13-35

Imagine you are Cleopas and his companion, walking during a spring evening towards Emmaus, a few miles down the road from Jerusalem. I always like to imagine that Cleopas’ companion is actually the wife of Cleopas mentioned a few times in the Gospels, that perhaps this is a married couple. And perhaps they are having a little marital argument or discussion as they walk down the road, talking over what the heck just

happened these last few days.

In any case, let’s imagine we are with them. What would we be talking about? The story says “all the things that have happened” -- what are the things that have happened to us? In our own marriages, or in our own relationships and lives? What are our unexplainable tragedies or unexpected epiphanies like the ones Cleopas and his companion have recently had? Losses, griefs, mistakes, guilts, confusions, hopes. No wonder when the stranger they encounter asks, “what are you discussing.” the story says, “they stood still, looking sad.”

Then, they tell their story. Haven’t you heard, they say, or we might say, the economy is terrible, I can’t find work, I just lost a friend to cancer, we thought this special person, or the new president, the new year, the new medicine would solve things, but it didn’t.

Then the stranger says, look, I know. But God is at work in all that. It’s all part of God’s plan, it will all work out. And they are so intrigued by what the stranger has to say, they press him to stay and eat with them. And as he breaks the bread, in that familiar gesture that they last saw him do at the Last Supper, they realize, it’s Jesus. He’s alive.

That’s the Easter story. Disappointment, dashed hopes, loss, turns to surprise, joy, the sudden knowledge that all is well and even better. That Easter moment happens at different times for different people. There are lots of Easter stories in the Gospels. At the tomb for Mary Magdalene as we read on Easter Sunday, in the upper room for Doubting Thomas as the youth told us about last week, breaking bread at Emmaus for these two disciples, eating fish on the beach for Peter. What is your Easter moment? Maybe you’ve even had more than one, or maybe it’s something you know will happen but hasn’t quite yet. Something you have faith in.

I’ve been witness to many Easter stories. (Personal anecdote omitted for internet privacy.) Experiences like that, in our own lives or that we witness in the lives of others, are what make us Easter people, people who believe in Easter moments, people who’ve experienced and who expect that transformation from sorrow to joy. It’s the essential character of our Christian faith. What does it mean to be an Easter person?

I think it means we expect to see God at work in the world.

It means we are able to see Christ present in and transforming situations.

It means we are able to hold on to hope, despite disappointment.

It means we are able to let go of wounds of the past and move on into the future.

It means we expect God to have the last word.

It means believing God can redeem any situation, that nothing is beyond God’s love.

We’re Easter people in this church, we expect something new to be reborn from the ashes of the past, and when we’re not feeling very Easter-y, we come here to experience a community where people can remind us of the Easter experience, help us recover our own sense of being Easter people.

Because Easter is not just the celebration of the anniversary of the resurrection. It’s something that changes our lives and makes a difference. Easter proves that Jesus is Savior, it proves God is at work, and God’s kingdom is coming. Easter is a present experience, not just a historical event. After all, Cleopas and his companion knew, second hand, that something had happened. They had heard what happened to Mary Magdalene and to Thomas. Just as we know from reading the story. But then it happened to them. They they saw the risen Jesus with their own eyes, talking to and eating with them. In that moment, it became personal. Just as it become personal to our neighbors, as it becomes personal to us.

Cleopas and his friend had an experience like that and also much like the one we have every Sunday. They heard scripture read and explained to them (kind of like I'm trying to do right now), then they broke bread together at the table. And in that breaking of the bread, they knew Jesus was with them. Just as when we break bread together, and sing together “be known to us, Lord Jesus, in the breaking of the bread” we know Jesus is with us, with us in the presence of each other, in this community gathered and called by God. And we know we are send from here as Easter people, knowing the good news that Jesus is risen, that resurrection happens, that sorrow can turn to joy, that new life is freely given to all, and called to share that Easter message with the world. “Risen Lord, be known to us in the breaking of the bread.”

Good Friday Sermon

2011-04-26T09:27:00.000-07:00

Good Friday 2011

The Rev. Kate Ekrem

Last night we stripped the altar, took all the usual things out of the church. Our service today is also sort of bare bones, missing many elements, the others in an unfamiliar order. It too is stripped down, until nothing is left but the cross. In a little bit we’ll bring the cross forward and have the opportunity to kneel in front of it, or venerate it however we feel moved.

It’s not always a comfortable thing to do, facing the cross is hard for us, but how much more emotional and terrible it was for those who were with Jesus that scary night, that awful day. By the time Jesus got to the cross, most of his friends were gone. Peter wasn’t there, most of the 12 were in hiding. Jesus’ mother was there. As any mother would be.

We can understand the instinctive need to see if you can help your child in some way, if there is some thing you can do even to ease the pain a little bit. And of course, the inability to really let go, wanting to be there with him even for those last few minutes. With her were three other women, Mary’s sister, Jesus’s aunt, and two of his closest followers, the wife of Clopas and Mary Magdalene, both mentioned enough times in scripture that we know they must have been very significant people in Jesus’s life. And just one of the men, probably John we don’t really know for sure. They stood there, as we stand today, at the foot of the cross, watching Jesus die.

They must have thought, screamed even, why. Why would anyone execute Jesus, he hadn’t hurt anyone, he’d only been trying to help people. Why do this to him?

It’s what we do though, isn’t it? When we have a problem, we figure out whose fault it is. Caiaphas had a problem, he figured out it was Jesus’s fault. Because we’ve got have our ducks in line, especially if you’re like Caiaphas and have a complex set of political and economic forces to keep in balance if you’re going to stay on top, going to achieve your goals. Any mistakes, any problems, have to be located somewhere outside ourselves. In any group, there’s often someone who is blamed for whatever is wrong, of whom the group says, if only we could get rid of him, then everything would be fine.

And Jesus became that person. He willingly let himself be the scapegoat, the one that we put our guilt and shame and sin on. So that every time we look another person in the face, a person that we might want to blame, we might see the face of Christ in them. Why? Caiaphas had his reasons, but God and Jesus had their reasons, too. This is how Jesus loves us, he gets inside our problem so that when we look on the thing we fear or hate, we see God, see God already there, loving us from the very center of our problem.

Do you know, medieval writers like St. Teresa of Avila loved to meditate on cross. Loved to imagine themselves there with the women at the foot of the cross. They saw Jesus smiling and beaming down at them from crucifix. “He will look at you with kindly and compassionate eyes” Teresa wrote when she urged people to meditate on the cruxifiction. That is harder for us to see, we get distracted by the pain and anguish and humiliation, but perhaps those Christians of old saw in all of that God’s ultimate love. The love of God that shines through everything else, especially when all of our stuff, whether its the beautiful stuff of worship or the everyday concerns of our lives, are all cut away. Everything’s gone today, everything that we can do is gone, And in that emptiness, the transformative work of God happens, because that’s how God works, when we are most vulnerable, most needy, God is there, opening the door to new life.

In the garden, the night before, Peter wanted to fight. He grabbed that sword and cut off the Malchus’ ear. But Jesus told him to stop it. It’s not about fighting. It’s not about winning. It’s not about being right or proving yourself or showing that our side is better. All that needs to be let go. Lay it at the foot of the cross. And be filled with God’s complete and utter love for you.

They, those 4 women and 1 man, may not have known what we do – they hadn’t seen Easter morning yet – but they did know that Jesus was sacrificing himself to save them. In the garden, the night before, he had said, I’ll come quietly, take me, but let my friends go. And even there, on the cross, he said to John or whoever it was, take care of my mother, and to his mother, take care of my friends. Love one another. Don’t forget what we talked about last night.

Because, as one preacher put it, “Imperial Rome will not reign. Caiaphas and the crowds will not be the victors. The law that brought about Jesus’ death is not supreme. The scribes and the Pharisees will not prevail. But there, with dried Roman spit on his face and looking like something out of the slaughterhouse, is “the foolishness of God” and the “weakness of God” – Jesus the Victor, wise as heaven and stronger than the gates of hell.”*

That’s the mystery that this cross holds for us, and why we hold it in front of us every day and especially on this day. The mystery that Jesus is already inside of the deepest darkest places in our hearts and in our lives, transforming them, the mystery of how love and life can overpower fear and hate. This is what the cross symbolizes to us, and why we kneel before it.

*HKO in “Synthesis”

Maundy Thursday Sermon

2011-04-24T06:05:00.001-07:00

Maundy Thursday begins the Triduum, the Three Holy Days, when we remember Christ's passion, death, and resurrection.

Maundy Thursday readings can be found here.
Preacher: The Rev. Sabeth Fitzgibbons

There’s one thing about Maundy Thursday that continues to mystify me. We do these two really important things on Maundy Thursday: we wash feet and we share blessed bread and wine. And we do both of them because Jesus told us to. So, why is it that sharing blessed bread and wine became a sacrament, and washing feet didn’t? I don’t have the answer to that question. But just think, we could wash feet in church every Sunday instead of having communion.

Maundy Thursday. Maundy from the Latin mandatum, for commandment. We gather every week, and especially tonight, because Jesus commanded us, to “do as I have done to you” (Jn 13:15).

Jesus is gathered with his disciples for a traditional Passover dinner, knowing it may well be his last dinner with his closest friends. And in the middle of dinner, Jesus gets up, grabs a towel and begins washing his disciples’ feet.

What if we put ourselves in the story, at the table with Jesus and his friends? And Jesus is making his way around the table, washing each person’s feet. Peter, who is sitting two seats away, asks him to wash his hands and head, too. That’s Peter for you, always a little over the top! Then Jesus washes the feet of the woman sitting next to you. And then he comes to you.

He stops and looks you in the eye, studying you and knowing you. Then he kneels on the floor at your feet. He gently places each of your feet in the basin and begins to pour water over them. With such care, those hands wash your feet. Those hands, human hands, have cast out demons, have healed the sick. Hands that have fed people hungry for bread and hungry for hope. His touch is intimate, gentle and intentional and loving. The act of washing your feet is solemn and beautiful, not quite joyous, not rushed. It is an act of extreme humility by someone you respect and love. Being the recipient of such an act of sacrifice of dignity is uncomfortable. Jesus gently dries your feet with the towel around his waist, and rises.

Several years ago I attended Maundy Thursday services with my mom, and I had the opportunity to wash her feet. It was humbling to kneel at my mom’s feet, she who so often did and still does for me, to give thanks for her in my silent prayer and in my actions, and to wash away some of the dirt of daily life. It was a moment of seeing my mom anew, of being servant to her. It was also a moment of reconciliation, a moment of seeing my mom through Jesus’ eyes, as God’s beloved, and not just my mom. It was restorative and healing and beautiful.

Returning to that Passover meal, Jesus has finished washing all our feet. To a person, humbled by his act of servanthood and united by our common humility, we join friends around the table to share a meal.

Jesus gives thanks for the bread with a traditional blessing: “Blessed are you, O Lord our God, King of the universe…” At the end of the blessing he adds, “This is my body that is for you. Do this in remembrance of me.”[1]

We eat a wonderful supper, remembering the story of our ancestors’ liberation from slavery, and inviting all who are hungry to join us at this table as we sing praises to God.

Finally, the meal ends with the Cup of Blessing. And after Jesus gives thanks to God, he says, “This cup is the new covenant in my blood. Do this, as often as you drink it, in remembrance of me.”[2]

We remember. We remember, by our presence here this evening, friends gathered for a fine meal, praising God, sharing blessed bread and wine as signs of reconciliation and peace with one another.

Bread and wine that feed us, that fill a hunger that seems insatiable, indescribable. Food for all who are hungry, that nourishes and strengthens us to go out from our safe table. Strengthened and empowered to be servants to the world. Empowered to heal, to pray with and for others and the world, to make peace in the face of violence and destruction.

Holy bread and wine that flow abundantly as a sign of God’s love for us. Sacrament: an outward and visible sign of an inward and spiritual grace.

Jesus sets an example and directs his disciples to do has he has done. Washing feet is just a symbol of what he calls us to remember. We are to follow, to do, what he did throughout his earthly ministry. “As Jesus became a servant and cared for us, so, by God’s grace, we are to care for and serve one another”[3]

When Jesus said “Do this in remembrance of me” we may take it to mean that he not only meant sharing in the Eucharist. We are also “to give ourselves to servanthood, washing one another’s feet in countless ways, caring, loving, serving, bearing one another’s burdens. It is only when we wash one another’s feet that the Eucharist has the fullness of meaning given to it by Jesus at the Last Supper”[4]

Come, follow Jesus’ example and command: Wash and be washed. Then come to the table, reconciled and beloved. Give praise to God and share holy food, that we may be nourished to serve the world.

[1] 1 Corinthians 11:24

[2] 1 Corinthians 11:25

[3] Armentrout, Donald S. in “Proclaiming Jesus’ Death” (Maundy Thursday 2011) Synthesis

[4] Armentrout

Sermon - 5th Sunday in Lent

2011-04-10T09:32:00.000-07:00

The Fifth Sunday in Lent
Preacher: The Rev. Sabeth Fitzgibbons
Readings are here.

Can you believe that Easter is in two weeks? I find myself wondering where Lent went. What happened with all those things we resolved to do this Lent? With those disciplines of prayer and fasting? With our reconciliations and mending of relationships?

Speaking of mending things – what are today’s readings all about? Dry bones that knit themselves back together and come to life. Lazarus rising from the grave. Sounds like we’ve got a resurrection theme going here – and it’s not Easter yet.

Kate pointed out in one of her recent sermons that the readings for Lent are a short course in the Christian faith – a baptismal prep course in anticipation of Easter baptisms. We all participate in Easter baptisms, renewing our own baptismal promises. We are all washed and renewed by living water at Easter .

This year’s Lent gospels (which are one set in our three year cycle of readings) have looked at questions like: What does it mean to be tested by evil? What does it mean to be born again? What is living water? What is the nature of sin? Today’s gospel reading asks one of the ultimate questions of Christianity – What is resurrection?

In other gospel stories, Jesus has brought people back to life – Like Jairus’ daughter or the unnamed widow’s son, but always just after they have died – more of a resuscitation or reanimation of the physical body.

Resurrection includes a complete transformation or change of the individual, not just a re-livening of the body [1]. Biblical references to resurrected people say they shine like stars [2] or will be like angels [3]. Belief in the resurrection on the last day was widespread among Jews in Jesus’ time [4]. Martha tells Jesus she believes her brother “will rise again in the resurrection on the last day” [5]. Resurrection of the dead was thought of as a corporate event, not something that happened individually, and something that God would do at the end of all time. So it wasn’t an unknown concept, though it happening to an individual like Lazarus and not at the end of the world was unusual.

As for resurrection being the work of God, this is the ultimate “sign” of Jesus’ divinity in the gospel of John. John talks about “signs” when he refers to Jesus’ miracles and other indications of Jesus’ divinity and here Jesus proclaims the purpose of his ministry: “I am the resurrection and the life”[6]. The Judeans who have come from Jerusalem to mourn with Mary and Martha witness Jesus’ resurrection of Lazarus, and report it to the Jewish authorities when they return to Jerusalem. Their report leads to Jesus’ condemnation by the religious authorities and their plan to arrest and kill him so that no more people will see his signs and believe in him.

So what’s the point of the Lazarus story? There is certainly the aspect of preparing us to believe in Jesus’ resurrection. But there are so many unanswered questions in this story. Like – could Jesus have saved Lazarus? Martha and Mary certain think so. They say “Lord, if you had been here my brother would not have died”[7]. Jesus had plenty of notice that Lazarus was dying and he didn’t drop everything to hasten to the side of his sick friend. Instead, he arrives when Lazarus has been dead for four days.

Why doesn’t God swoop in and prevent bad things from happening?

Do we sometimes have to die on our own for God to resurrect us?

What piece of our Lenten disciplines is about dying? About letting something in us die and get really 4-days-dead stinky? About giving God those heavy, ugly glasses of self-righteous anger and indignation that keep us seeing every situation through lenses that continue to highlight our wounds of betrayal and disappointment? Which of our aching festering wounds of loss, exclusion and violence need to find their final resting place? What do we need to own as our fault or our part in something that was hurtful to us and other children of God? And what fear are we hiding behind that keeps us in denial about our part in sin?

What if we made friends with our Fear this week? [8] Made friends with that voice that convinces us that we are going to mess things up so badly that we decide to cocoon ourselves into some life of stasis? What if, instead of letting Fear paralyze us, we take Fear out for coffee (or something stronger)? Let her have her voice. Hear his big concerns. Don't offer unsolicited advice. Instead, listen. Maybe even cry. Send Fear’s cousin Ego away. Share your darkest thoughts, and watch what happens. When we make peace with Fear, we are often honored to meet her soul mate, Courage. What kind of stinky, decomposing soul garbage will we find on that coffee date?

We have just one week left before we enter Holy Week and begin to journey with Jesus toward the cross and the new life of his resurrection. Just one week left to really engage our Lenten self-examination and self-preparation. How will we use it?

God of compassion, you call us out of the bindings of death on this, our resurrection day: make us ready to surrender the fear in which we hide and step into your future alive and unashamed; through Jesus Christ, the life of the world. Amen. [9]

_____________

[1] “Resurrection” Harper Collins Bible Dictionary, revised edition (San Francisco: Harper San Francisco, 1996).

[2] Daniel 12:3

[3] Mark 12:25

[4] Notes for John 11:24, The New Oxford Annotated Bible, Third Edition, New Revised Standard Version (New York: Oxford University Press, 2001).

[5] John 11:24

[6] John 11:25

[7] John 11:22, 31

[8] Making friends with Fear paragraph taken from “”Giving Up for Lent” http://dirtysexyministry.blogspot.com, posted 27 February 2011

[9] Shakespeare, Steven. Prayers for an Inclusive Church, Lent 5 Collect (New York: Church Publishing, 2009).

Sermon for Fourth Sunday in Lent

2011-04-04T13:02:00.001-07:00

Lent 4 April 3, 2011, The Rev. Kate Ekrem

Scripture of the day is here.

Early Christians took baptismal preparation very seriously. Today, at our most perfunctory it can be just a quick meeting in the pastor’s study, but in those days it was three years of study and learning. All leading up to baptism at Easter, almost always at the Easter Vigil, the crown and pinnacle of the church year. The scripture passages we read on the Sundays of Lent were their textbook. And this story of the healing of the man born blind was one of the most important of the texts they studied. We know this because it appears more than 7 times in early catacomb art, generally as an illustration of baptism.

In those days, and through the Middle Ages, this lesson was read at the most important of the three scrutinies, or examinations, of the baptized as they were getting ready, usually on the 3rd, 4th and 5th Sunday of Lent. We don’t scrutinize and exorcise people before baptism anymore, but those scrutinies are now summarized in our baptismal service as the three questions: Do you renounce Satan and all the spiritual forces of wickedness that rebel against God?, Do you renounce the evil powers of this world which corrupt and destroy the creatures of God?, Do you renounce all sinful desires that draw you from the love of God? (Extra credit if you know which page of the prayer book I’m on). And also the three affirmations: Do you turn to Jesus Christ and accept him as your Savior? Do you put your whole trust in his grace and love? Do you promise to follow and obey him as your Lord? The story of the man born blind is sort of an object lesson about these renunciations and affirmations, about our baptismal journeys.

All the symbols of baptism are present. The man is anointed by Jesus, just as we anoint with chrism those who are baptized. He’s cleansed and washed in water. And he receives the light of Christ both literally in being healed from blindness and spiritually in seeing Jesus as sent from God. In baptism we get healed, we wash in the living waters, we are healed and given new life, just like this man.

His story, his journey is an interesting one because he doesn't believe in Jesus and then get his new lease on life. He is healed, washed, and restored to life, then he stumbles around wondering what’s going on for a while -- when people first ask him who healed him, his answer is along the lines of, I think it was some guy named... Jesus, maybe? Not exactly a declaration of faith. Then he becomes increasingly sure Jesus is a prophet, and from God, then he gets chased out of town, then Jesus finds him all alone and in that moment, in that personal encounter with Jesus, then and only then does he say, Lord, I believe. And worships Jesus, the only person in this Gospel to do so. Sounds like real life to me. Sounds like our spiritual journeys, our baptismal journeys, with ups and downs and backs and forths punctuated, hopefully, by encounters with Jesus in our life that help us believe, help us make those baptismal affirmations.

The formerly blind man may not have huge amounts of faith, especially in the beginning, but what he does have is openness, willingness, he’s willing to do what this guy whose name he’s not quite sure of asks him to do, and see what happens. And he also has honesty, refusing to deny the reality of what has happened to him, even in the face of authorities telling him he’s wrong. His faith really happens when Jesus seeks him out.

And what about those authorities? Just as significant to this story, this lesson in baptism, are the Pharisees. As the blind man gets more and more sight, they seem to get less and less. At the first hearing, they argue about the healing, and ask the blind man to explain what happened. Then they start trying to prove he was never blind in the first place, this isn’t the same guy as the man born blind. In the end, they are completely convinced that this miraculous healing proves that Jesus is a sinner. The historical tensions between the early church and the Jewish synagogue are very evident in this passage, and the passage doesn't point out what the readers would have known -- those followers of Jesus who were officially declared no longer Jewish by the authorities would be subject to Roman persecution as members of an illegal religion. However, knowing that historical context helps us look past it and when reading John’s Gospel I often think the modern day Pharisees are us, anyone who comes to church each Sunday and is active member of a parish probably has more in common with these guys who were debating if Jesus was following the prayer book rubrics properly than with the down-and-outs that Jesus spend most of his time with.

So it’s a pretty strong warning about what our state of mind needs to be as we approach baptism, or renewal of our commitment to our baptism vows, and what we are really renouncing. The Pharisees have a pretty complete world view. God doesn't work on the Sabbath, the Bible says so. but even our most cherished and deeply held ideas and assumptions of our old life are part of what we must renounce in taking on the new life God offers. What deeply held ideas and assumptions of your old life do you need to give up? Self-examination is one of the key parts of Lent. Where can God’s light shine some healing for you?

This passage begins with Jesus saying he is the light of the world. And in the early church, baptism was sometimes called enlightenment. Here Jesus brings the light of sight to the blind man, brings him out of darkness. Light that helps him see the truth. That light also shines, somewhat more harshly, on the Pharisees, illuminating their blindness, their not wanting to see what they don't control or understand.

This passage also begins with a question about the purpose of the life of the man born blind. The Pharisees assume his blindness is some kind of sign of his parent’s sin. But Jesus says he has a much different purpose: his life is about God’s works, God’s love, God’s salvation, God’s healing, God’s reconciliation being revealed in him. Jesus says, forget whose fault it is. That’s not the point. The point is that God is not done working here yet, not done with this person, and God has a holy and important purpose for his life. And for us, too, that’s true. God is not done working on us yet. God’s purposes are working out in our lives, if we are willing to open our ears and our eyes.

Do you renounce all sinful desires that draw you from the love of God? Do you turn to Jesus Christ and accept him as your Savior? Do you put your whole trust in his grace and love? Words to ponder as we get ever closer to the great baptismal feast of Easter.

Water in the Desert

2011-03-30T11:26:00.000-07:00

Hello friends,
One scripture passage I didn't get to in this Sunday's sermon was the one from Exodus, about Moses finding water in the desert for the thirsty People of Israel. It's a very thought-provoking story, though, and I think that's in part because we have so much in common with those thirsty complaining folks who gave Moses such a hard time. We worry. We're anxious. We think what we need is not going to be there for us.

Moses stops at a place in the desert where there is no water. This is unusual -- desert nomads (like Moses's wife Zipporah, who was with them) usually traveled from oasis to oasis. It makes us wonder, why the unscheduled stop? Did they overextend themselves, or not go far enough? Did they run out of water because they didn't conserve it? Whatever the case, they got off track.

And don't we get off track in similar ways? Unlike most of the world we have plentiful clean water, but we can sometimes pay insufficient attention to our own basic needs and resources. We over-extend or over-consume. Here it's water, but what about time, energy, sleep, silence, play? Do we plan like nomads and move carefully from oasis to oasis, from sabbath to sabbath, or do we get stuck in the middle with nothing to drink, burnt out and exhausted, like these guys?

This Lent, make sure you plan plenty of time and replenishment at the oasis that you need.

Peace,
Kate
P.S. If such refreshment moves you to share with others, you might take a peak here.

Atonement Theology Unpacked.. a little bit

2011-03-28T13:09:00.000-07:00

Dear friends,

Yesterday in my sermon I brought up the topic of atonement theology (i.e. how Jesus's death saves us) because I think it's something very important for practicing Christians to have a grasp of. In today's pluralistic society, it's more and more common that a friend might ask about what we believe, or have a mis-understanding of Christianity based on TV evangelists. Or maybe we ourselves have questions about how God could possibly need Jesus to die. I only just touched on the topic in my sermon, giving the highlights of three of the dozens of ways theologians explain atonement.

So here is some unpacking, and to keep you reading I've put my own favorite theory at the very end....
Anselm and friends
In my sermon I lumped a bunch of different ideas together under the heading of "sacrificial theory". Basically I was referring to the theology of Anselm of Canterbury (died around 1109), who was the one who first put forward the idea that we owe God, who suffered a loss of dignity and honor through our human sins, which could only be satisfied by the sacrifice of Jesus, the perfect God-man. Anselm's version is called "satisfaction". It was taken up during the Reformation and slightly changed into penal substitution theory, the idea that we broke the law and Jesus was punished on our behalf. To me this group of theories sounds like debt slavery or divine child abuse. However, unlike some of the other theories, it does take seriously the idea of sacrifice. It was important for early Christians to explain how Jesus's sacrifice fit into the Jewish custom of temple sacrifice.

Christus Victor
I find some earlier theories more compelling. Irenaeus (died around 202) was the first to write about the theory I called "defeat of the powers" and which more commonly is called "Christus Victor" or "Christ Victorious." This theory is that Jesus defeated Satan and freed us from bondage. Another offshoot or sub-set is the ransom theory, that Jesus paid the ransom to free us from being kidnapped by Satan, metaphorically speaking. The main modern interpreter of Christus Victor is Walter Wink, whose book The Powers that Be is excellent (and readable), and shows how the "powers" today are embodied in such spiritual evils as racism and sexism.

Abelard and friends
Christus Victor was the main way of explaining atonement until Anselm and Pierre Abelard (died 1142) came along. Abelard took a much different, more liberal, view than Anselm. Abelard's idea, which he drew from early church theologians like Augustine, was that Jesus sets us a moral example to follow, a way through death to new life. I called this idea "the way" in my sermon. It's more commonly called moral influence theory but also has many sub-theories. It's been promoted by many modern theologians like Kant and Tillich. The spiritual transformation that we must undergo to take part in this salvation-- dying to our old lives and being born again -- is well described in the second half of Marcus Borg's book The Heart of Christianity.

My favorite theory
In some ways, we can see the whole atonement theology argument summed up as Anselm vs. Abelard. Anselm's view of a punishing God is hard to swallow (although it was the dominant way of thinking about it for several hundred years, from the Reformation through the 18th century), but Abelard's view can gloss over the cross and human sin altogether.

To me, there is one sub-set of the moral influence idea that doesn't just focus on Easter and forget all about Good Friday. This is memetic desire, or Girardian theory, based on the work of the anthropologist Rene Girard. The first time I read about it I felt like someone had taken my brain out for a good scrubbing. Basically, Girard posits that salvation is about God saving humanity from our own violence. In order to contain violence, we've created man-made sacrificial rituals, from scapegoating to the death penalty to holy wars. Jesus came to show us the falseness of these sacrifices, and to explode the sacrificial system from within by himself being the scapegoat. It's hard to explain in a few words, but it is very well described on one of my favorite preaching blogs, Girardian Reflections. If you'd like to give your brain a good scrubbing, check it out, or read Cross Purposes by Anthony Bartlett (warning: dry academic writing alert, but still good stuff). To me it helped a lot in answering my own personal question of why a nice guy like God would make Jesus die such a horrible death.

OK, enough dry academic writing from me!
Peace,
Kate

Sermon for Third Sunday in Lent

2011-03-28T11:41:00.000-07:00

Hello friends,

Here is my sermon from yesterday. You can find the scripture readings here. I realize I opened a bit of a can of worms with all those atonement theologies (it was very hard to summarize!) so I'll post another blog post unpacking that a little more for those who are interested.

Sermon for March 27 2011 by the Rev. Kate Ekrem
If you’ve been reading the Redeemer blog, you know that last Sunday I got to have dinner with the youth group and we played “stump the priest.” And they did! Well, at least it’s easier than Crainium, but they asked some tough questions. But the one question I think I really did not give a good answer to was, what does it mean that Jesus saves us? We say he died for our sins, but how did his dying fix the problem of human sin?
   A great question for Lent as all of our scripture passages this season lead us to ask, how can we be reconciled to God and each other? And our reading from Paul’s letter to the Romans hits it head on, but maybe without making it a whole lot more clear. Paul writes: “ But God proves his love for us in that while we still were sinners Christ died for us. ... For if while we were enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of his Son, much more surely, having been reconciled, will we be saved by his life.”
   Christ died for us. We are saved by his life. Like talk about sin, I sometimes think this kind of talk is a barrier to people today. It’s been misinterpreted so much and we ourselves have swallowed those misinterpretations, so that we all I’m sure have friends and neighbors who think Christianity is irrelevant, psychologically dangerous, or downright wrong when we say someone else’s death saves our life. But the truth is there are a lot of different ways to understand this, and part of the reason I had trouble answering the youth group is that even our official theologians give us no one answer. Instead we have a lot of competing theologies, some of which are more helpful than others. At the risk of oversimplifying, I just want to give you three examples of how you might unpack what Paul is saying, three different atonement theologies.
   The most recent, coming out of the reformation, and the one that trips us up the most, I think, is the sacrificial theory. At its worst and most bleak, this is sometimes understood as, we sinned, we broke the law, and when you break the law you have to pay. We can’t possibly pay God back for all the mistakes we’ve made, so Jesus paid for us, he was the only one who could possibly make it up to God, he went to jail, so to speak, on our behalf. If this is not really floating your boat, you’re not alone. I’m not sure I can believe in a God who needs to be repaid or needs to punish somebody in this way. On the other hand, one thing this theory does try to make clear is that whatever is needed to reconcile us to God, God has provided, God provides the sacrifice. There's nothing else we need to do, nothing that separates us from God. That essential part of this theory is worth hanging on to.
   So, moving on to a much older theory, in fact the one that was the most popular for the first 1,000 years or so of Christianity, the idea of the defeat of the powers. This theory is that we are captives of Satan, slaves to the evil powers of the world, whether those are the powers of our own individual sin or of corporate sin like oppressive governments or oppressive systems like racism. And Jesus defeats Satan, defeats these powers, and makes us free.
Lastly, there is an equally old idea that has probably been the predominant theology of modern Christianity, that Jesus shows us the way, the way through death to new life. That his non-violent resistance to the structures of human sin and oppression shows up how broken human society is and also sets us an example of how to be on God’s side standing against that brokenness. An important part of this theory is that it wasn’t God who demanded Jesus’s death on a cross, as in the sacrificial theory, but human beings grasping for power and control. And by imitating the pouring out of power, the self-giving Jesus did for us on the cross, we can be part of God’s reconciliation in the world and in our lives.
   So, that might be a nice academic answer the youth group’s penetrating question, but so what. Right? So what, what does this have to do with me? Early Christians of course didn’t worry about these categories, they just said, well I feel saved. And early Christian writers used all of these theories and more all mixed up together. Reconciliation doesn’t really matter unless we know how it works in our own life. And today we do have the story of how it worked in one person’s life, this person whose name we don’t know, the Samaritan woman at the well. Did you know this is the longest story in the entire New Testament? More words are given to this encounter than to anything else. The Samaritan woman is certainly someone who needs reconciliation.
   The details of this story that may be lost on us modern hearers would not have been lost on its original audience. Going to the well alone at high noon was not normal, women went to the well at dawn, and they went together in a group for safety. Here she is at the hottest part of the day, a time when she knew she’d be alone. This is like going to the grocery story at 3am. She is somehow alienated from the other women in town, perhaps something having to do with those 5 men in her past. She does not even have one friend to go to the well with her, not one person to see to her safety. This woman has had a tough life. The world has been hard on her. And, she’s got some attitude, when Jesus asks her for a drink, she answers back with some sarcasm, oh, you’re a Jew and you’re asking a Samaritan for a drink? But it seems like she learned that attitude in school of hard knocks. Learned how to defend herself.
   And Jesus cuts right through all of that. His very first response to her is about her true need, her need for God. He pays no attention to her bluff and bluster and talks to her real self, as if she really matters. He ignores all the things that stand between them -- gender, race, religion, all the things she may or may not have done wrong in her life -- and talks directly to her. Probably no one has ever talked to her in her life like that. Has anyone ever talked to you like that? Or do you to talk to others in that way, as if context and history mean nothing and the person in front of you is all that matters?
   He KNOWS her, understands her, he meets her where she is. He offers her ultimate things, life-changing things, things that make her current work (getting water from well) totally irrelevant. And he is totally himself with her, he reveals himself to her, telling her he is the messiah. And in this encounter of truth and honesty and acceptance and love, her life is changed. She is reconciled to herself and to God. In knowing that Jesus loves her and accepts her, she’s able to love and accept herself. We know this because of her actions, from sneaking to the well by herself, she runs back and tells all her neighbors, all those people who rejected her, the good news she has heard. Her reconciliation spills out like a fountain, a fountain of living water.
   So what do we learn about reconciliation here? For one thing, it’s about each person being totally themselves, their full self. To hear someone say, I see you and accept you just as you are. Interesting that Jesus doesn’t try to change her or reform her by pointing out where she’s messed up. Jesus changes her by meeting her where she is, respecting her current identity. That’s what allows her to be transformed. Do we do this with others? Do we do it with ourselves? Can change happen unless we first forgive ourselves and are reconciled to who we are? As someone whose been struggling to lose 10 pounds for the last year and a half, I wonder about this a lot. Do we have to be reconciled to ourselves before we can change? What about our children and significant others? Can they change and grow in ways we hope for them before we accept them for who they are?
   So, how does this kind of reconciliation connect with those theological theories I outlined before? Jesus certainly isn’t offering to be punished on her behalf, but he is making clear that nothing stands between her and God. God’s messiah is right there in front of her, there’s no sacrifice needed on her part, God has taken care of it. So that essence of the first theory could fit here. But he’s also broken down the barriers of the human system of racism and sexism that have oppressed her. So the second theory, the defeat of the powers, works, too. And also our third theory, he sets an example for her, setting aside his own power needs and treating her with compassion and love, so she can love herself and share that love with others. He shows her the way. Like the early Christians, we can bring a combination of theories to bear on understanding how reconciliation works in her life, and none of them, perhaps, really gives a full picture. But if we’re focused too much on what popular culture tells us about atonement, about how much she owes God and how Jesus’s death repays that, we miss what’s really going on here.
   One preacher (Ralph Milton) has said of Paul’s explanations in Romans 5, that it reflects God’s yearning to be reconciled to us, and our own ache and longing to be close to God, even when we “invent elaborate and sometimes bizarre theologies to explain the unexplainable.” What happens between the Samaritan woman and Jesus is an unexplainable mystery in a way, some kind of chemistry or emotional connection that breaks through all her barriers. But the desire of God to love us, to be reconciled to us, to be in relationship with us, is what comes through this story of the woman at the well. She is saved. We are, too. Perhaps Paul it best when he says “God's love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that has been given to us.” This is the reconciliation that the woman at the well knew. Jesus’s outpouring of himself on the cross does save us, in a million different ways, but perhaps most of all it’s God’s way of showing us God’s great desire to be reconciled to us, that God’s love goes all the way, it will never fail us. And that’s something that is not irrelevant, or dangerous, or wrong, and that our friends and neighbors might desperately need to hear.

Youth Group Stumps the Priest

2011-03-22T09:45:00.000-07:00

Sunday night I got to join the youth group for their Sunday night dinner, which they cook together each week as a time of support and sharing. I was foolish enough to say "ask me anything" and they had a lot of really great questions. We decided "stump the priest" was fun, and plan to do it again. But I wonder if any of you could field any of these questions that the youth group asked me. What would you have answered them? Are any of these questions which also puzzle you?

* What do Episcopalians believe about creation and evolution?

* What was Jesus' childhood and young adulthood like? Did people treat him differently?

* When we die, do we go to heaven immediately or do we "fall asleep" and get resurrected on the Last Day?

* Are some parts of the Bible antisemitic, and if so, how do we deal with that?

* Is the devil real or just a metaphor for evil in the world?

* What about people who do bad things yet go to church and people who do good things yet don't believe in God?

* What does "Jesus died to save us" really mean? Why doesn't the world look more saved?

Whew. I think there may be a sermon shaping up out of all our discussion. Or maybe a sermon series...

Sermon for First Sunday in Lent

2011-03-14T07:29:00.000-07:00

Hello friends,

Here is my sermon from yesterday. I always have second thoughts after preaching and in this case am not sure I was so fair to poor St. Augustine. Bill Fortier pointed out in yesterday's adult forum that often we are guilty of repeating what other writers have said about someone rather than reading the original for ourselves. I think I probably did that to the good Bishop of Hippo. Back to the original sources to make sure I got it right...

By the way, if you missed Bill's "Bread, Bible, and Battles", do come join us on Feb 27th! Never have I heard someone so compellingly connect church history and modern brain science. Fascinating stuff!

My ideas about sin in this sermon are very much influenced by Marcus Borg's book, The Heart of Christianity, which I recommend highly.

Sermon for 1 Lent, March 13 2011 by the Rev. Kate Ekrem

Today I’d like to talk about sin! Oh good, you are all still here. So, raise your hand if sin means for you something that makes you feel guilty, or you think is supposed to make you feel guilty, or is just a word you

find mostly irrelevant to your understanding of faith. [Lots of hands went up.] Now, Raise your hand if sin for you is a useful concept that helps you in you life and faith. [A few hands.] The church has not done real well on this one. I’d like to blame the evangelicals but I’m not sure I can. Let me try to reframe the word sin a bit today, so we can understand our scripture readings today and maybe better understand what Lent is all about.

Our first scripture reading for Lent is the story of Adam and Eve. And we ‘know” this story is about sin. Right? This is one of those passages that always gets my dander up (right up there with Ephesians 5). But do we know how to, can we, read the story without 30 or 40 or 50 years of sermons and Sunday school classes telling us what to think? What do we read here when we see it without all that in our head? Our modern understand of this story is largely shaped by St. Augustine’s interpretation of it, which was very much overlaid by his own struggle with philandering. He’s the one who said,” Lord, make me good, but not yet.” It may be a bit of an oversimplification, but in many ways the guilt he projected on to it has been handed down for generations. But what do we see when we just look at the text?

Here are some things that are not true about the Genesis story*:

· God created an absolutely perfect and static world

· humans lived in paradise and had no work to do

· the evil serpent is a Satan figure who brings evil into God's perfect creation

· it’s all Eve’s fault

· the central point of Genesis 3 is to explain how evil came into the world

· First, God said creation was good, but God’s creating activity is a work in process from the beginning, not a "perfect" world in the sense of a finished, unchanging universe that we then messed up. God is still creating.

· Second, God asked humans to help out and be stewards of creation, humans had responsibilities even in Eden.

· Third, the idea that the serpent is Satan is not in the text, people didn’t read that into this story until nearly New Testament times.

· Fourth, it’s not all Eve’s fault. If you look closely at the text, it seems mostly likely that Adam was standing next to Eve listening to the serpent the whole time. And he didn’t say a word.

And lastly, this story does not explain how evil came into the world. The ancient Hebrews firmly believed that God created all things, the good and the bad. God created the serpent, and God created the humans. Instead, what this story does is “explore the human condition. It's about describing the reality of what it is to be human, and our mysterious “tendencies to resist God, and to desire to be like God.”

That’s a tendency some people sometimes call sin. So, now that we’ve got a better grip on the Adam and Eve story, what is sin? What do we mean when we use that word? What are we talking about?

We mean, something is not right. In our world, in our lives, in our relationships, something is not quite right. Sometimes, when we look at the newspaper headlines, we know it’s more than just a little not quite right. Sometimes, when we’re awake at 3am about something or other, we know something is not right. And it’s not something we can fix, we don’t have the ability by ourselves to make it all right. Theologians have many ways of trying to put their finger on what exactly is not right. Some say it’s separation or estrangement from God and each other. Some say it’s not trusting or being faithful to God. Some say it’s self-centeredness or pride. Maybe it’s all of those, or maybe the are all different ways of saying the same thing.

But the Bible actually has many more ways of talking about whatever it is, this thing that is not right. Sin is one. Blindness is another. Or being in exile, or in bondage, or we have closed hearts, or we hunger and thirst, or we are lost. Marcus Borg** points out that each of these has an antithesis, a solution. If we’re blind, we need sight, if we’re in bondage, we need liberation, if we’re lost, we need to be found. The traditional antithesis to sin is forgiveness, and that’s the one we tend to get stuck on. That’s the one the church has emphasized all these centuries, and for good reasons. But maybe it’s not forgiveness you need. Maybe it’s sight, or healing, or liberation. Maybe you need to be found. Maybe, like Adam and Eve, you’ve been separated from your roots and you need to come home. If you are reminded of the parables of Jesus, the prodigal son coming home, the lost sheep being found, it’s probably not a coincidence. And not a coincident that’s those parables are what the children are working on in the Atrium this Lent.

The Bible has many stories to tell about sin -- or blindness or oppression or lostness or whatever it is -- and its ultimate antithesis, salvation. In fact, there probably isn’t any story not about this. That’s why they are in the Bible, right? The Lenten lectionary, the readings for these next five Sundays, gives us the highlights, the best of the best of these stories of sin and salvation. Whether it’s exodus from slavery in Egypt, when people were captive and needed to be free, grumbling for food and drink in the wilderness, when people were hungry and needing to be fed, Jesus healing at the pool of Siloam, when someone was blind and needed to see, or raising Lazarus who was dead and needed new life. We get all these stories during Lent. Beginning with this story of Adam and Eve.

So what do you think it’s about? Of all those metaphors for the thing that’s wrong, what seems to best fit with Adam and Eve? What do you think?

· being lost, wanting to come home, back to Eden?

· being alienated, separated from God and wanting reunion?

maybe also about pride, thinking we can do things on our own, independently, forgetting we are part of a web of relationships.

Why don’t we like to talk about sin? When I think about bringing my blindness, my hungers, my oppression, my lostness to God and finding sight, nourishment, freedom, and home, that’s a good thing, right? Even bringing my mistakes, my failures, and finding forgiveness is good.
Why don’t we like to talk about it? What are we afraid of? Being less than perfect, not knowing it all, being unable to fix it ourselves? Maybe we're more like Adam and Eve than we realized. Maybe this is a good story for us to remember. God asked them not eat the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil. Notice not good or evil, but good and evil. Knowledge of all that’s good and all that’s not good -- in other words, all knowledge about everything. God asked them not to do that, but to stick to their piece of things, to not try to be like God. But they did try to be like God, to be God instead of God, and thus were alienated from each other, from God, even from their selves, their own bodies.

We’re not God. We make mistakes. We can’t, all by our lonesome, fix all that’s wrong with the world. Realizing that is not a tragedy but a liberation. We don’t have to be perfect. Can we see failure as an opportunity to learn or grow instead of a source of shame and guilt? What in your life is an Eden moment? A failure -- on your part, I’m not talking about things people have done to you, but things you wish you hadn't done -- that caused guilt and shame? Can you face that full in the face, eyelash to eyelash as Sabeth said on Ash Wednesday, knowing you have God’s love and support, and see what you can learn, how you can be more whole, from that experience? Can you accept God’s healing, nourishment, freedom, and yes, forgiveness, for you? That’s reconciliation. That’s our Lenten journey.

____________
*This section draws on commentary by Dennis Olsen, Charles T. Haley Professor of Old Testament Theology, Princeton Theological Seminary, on “Working Preacher”.
** In “The Heart of Christianity”

Lenten challenge in the Boston Globe

2011-03-14T07:18:00.000-07:00

Hello friends,

I saw this article in this weekend's Boston Globe by G. Jeffery MacDonald and thought it was though-provoking. The author says Lent is "widely ignored" by American Christians because we don't like to deny ourselves anything. And, he suggests, we are consumerist in general about church, seeking entertainment and emotional support rather than "the harder and more edifying parts of Christianity." He says, "Strangely, Americans recognize the value of sacrifice in pursuing material goals, such as prosperity via education. Yet we tell ourselves that spiritual growth can be cost-free." He concludes, "It’s time for American Christians to reclaim the power of their tradition. Lent is the right time to start. The season beckons Christians to grow in character and compassion by walking in their ancestors’ footprints."

What do you think? Is MacDonald on to something or off-base?

Sermon - Ash Wednesday 2011

2011-03-13T08:32:00.000-07:00

The Ash Wednesday liturgy invites us into "the observance of a holy Lent, by self-examination and repentance; by prayer, fasting, and self-denial; and by reading and meditating on God's holy Word." (Book of Common Prayer, 265) All of these Lenten disciplines lead us toward reconciliation with God, others, and ourselves.

Ash Wednesday - March 9, 2011
Isaiah 58:1-12; Psalm 103; 2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10; Matthew 6:1-6, 16-21
Preacher: The Rev. Sabeth Fitzgibbons

Jesus hits the nail on the head, as usual: Lent is personal. It’s time for personal work on our private relationship with God, not time for public acts of piety. Public acts of piety feed our ego – and the public recognition is our full reward. Lent is a time for almsgiving, prayer, and fasting that help us turn our focus inward and Godward.

We join a long tradition of Christians who have taken on the discipline of Lent in solidarity with those preparing for baptism at the Easter Vigil.[1] Each of us is baptized into a life of relationship with God, with self and others, and all the rest of creation.
Through the disciplines of Lent, we have an opportunity to evaluate and re-enter these relationships.

In the ancient church, marking penitents’ foreheads with ashes and the words “Remember you are dust and to dust you shall return” on Ash Wednesday marked the beginning of a time of “intense reflection, self-scrutiny, and preparation for reincorporation into the community from which one was estranged by sin.”[2] Lent was a time of preparing to be restored to community and relationship with those you love.

There is another word for that action of restoration: reconciliation. Lent is a time of reconciliation. A time for forgiveness and self-acceptance, and ultimately starting over, new life. Reconciliation extends to all levels of relationships with one another in community, with God, and, perhaps most difficult, with ourselves.

The word reconciliation itself gives us some indication of what it is all about. In the middle of the word reconciliation is “cilia” – eyelashes. “Concilia” – with eyelashes, or to stand close enough that your eyelashes, your cilia, are touching: Eyelash to eyelash.

It’s an intimate experience to find ourselves eyelash to eyelash. When I stand that close to myself physically (in the mirror, for example), I see all kinds of things I don’t like to see: wrinkles and age spots, sags and bags that remind me how I am not young any more, how my life circumstances and choices are reflected in my skin, how I wish I took better care of myself. When we stand that close to ourselves spiritually, we might experience some of the same disillusionment and disappointment that we aren’t who we thought we were, or who we want to be. It’s humbling to look so closely at ourselves.

Eyelash to eyelash with another person probably makes us uncomfortable. Maybe a little uncomfortable with someone you know well, and possibly unbearably uncomfortable with someone we don’t know well or with whom we are estranged. When you’re that close to another person you can’t help but smell them, hear and feel their breath, notice the warmth of their skin, see the texture of their skin. And at some point we may become aware that the other person experiences us that intimately as well. Scary! And yet, we see something of ourselves in their very human-ness, don’t we?

And what about standing eyelash to eyelash with God – what happens when we do that? We can’t really hide from God, who created us and knows us more intimately that anyone. Too often, we may neglect to make the time and space to be eyelash to eyelash with God because, like standing in close proximity to others or ourselves, it reminds us of the ways we fall short of expectations. Concilia with God means we stand before God as we are and breathe the breath of God. Breathing in the sweet reassurance that God loves us. But to get to that reassurance, we have to first go through the discomfort of standing there, of feeling our shortcomings. That’s concilia – standing eyelash to eyelash.

The thing we’re doing in Lent is “re-concilia.” We’re doing it again – which suggests that we once were in close intimate relationship with our selves, with others, and with God. Reconciliation takes intention, requires us to confront parts of ourselves we might rather ignore, requires us to give up some control as we re-enter mutual and loving relationships, especially with ourselves. In Lent, we practice coming back, facing ourselves, facing one another, and facing God – again.

Reconciliation is about restoring those relationships through which we know God. Restoring relationship with God directly, through prayer. Restoring relationship with God as known through humans, ourselves and others, through fasting from things which break us down and estrange us. Restoring relationship with God as known through the rest of creation, through almsgiving and intentional care for it.

Make time this Lent to be concilia – to be eyelash to eyelash with yourself and with God, with your loved ones and your enemies, and with God’s good creation. See God reflected and find forgiveness in relationships restored to wholeness.

[1] Presiding Bishop’s Lenten Message (by Katharine Jefferts Schori, February 05, 2008), http://www.episcopalchurch.org.

[2] “We are but dust” Ash Wednesday – March 9, 2011 entry, http://prayerbookguide.blogspot.com, accessed 07 March 2011

Sermon - 8th Sunday after the Epiphany

2011-03-08T10:19:00.000-08:00

Most of us know this gospel as "you cannot serve both God and mammon." When we are consumed by worrying about our daily needs, maintaining the minutae and the 'things' of our lives, we cannot focus on the larger vision God calls us into. How do we let go of the near focus and raise our eyes to God's horizon? What techniques do you use to re-focus? What do you wish you could learn? What does this gospel or this sermon make you think about? Conversation welcome.

Sermon by the Rev. Sabeth Fitzgibbons on the Eighth Sunday after the Epiphany, Year A (27 February 2011)

Readings: Isaiah 49:8-16a; Psalm 131; 1 Corinthians 4:1-5; Matthew 6:24-34

I had a moment of near panic on Monday when I realized that both my children’s pants were suddenly too short! How does that happen so quickly? One day the pants are fine and the next time you dress them, their ankles are hanging out. It sent me into a two-day tizzy of sorting hand me downs and combing clearance racks in search of warm pants to cover those ankles until it stops snowing every three days. I felt a little crazed, possessed even, by this need to protect and clothe my children against the elements

Isn’t this a prime example of the kind of worry about our lives that Jesus is saying not to bother with?
“Do not worry about what you will eat or what you will wear. Isn’t life more than food and the body more than clothing?” (Mt 6:25, paraphrased). Right. YES!

It’s so natural to worry about what we will eat or what we will wear. These are normal, human concerns about basic human needs. And, yet, in our lives here and now these needs are not as desperate as they were for Matthew’s audience. Peasants depended on their patrons for day to day work to enable them to buy food for their families, to buy cloth to make clothes. The early Jesus followers really knew how one’s attention can be completely focused on getting food or clothing when it’s entirely possible you might go without.

Allowing ourselves to be oriented toward the future requires that all our basic needs are taken care of. Once basic needs are addressed, our anxiety levels can go down and we can think ahead to the future, well-beyond our next meal.

“No one can serve two masters; for a slave will either hate the one and love the other, or be devoted to the one and despise the other. You cannot serve God and wealth” (Mt 6:24). The word translated as wealth is mammon in Greek. Mammon is really about material things or property, which could seem like wealth from a peasant’s perspective. Mammon could be translated as “things.” You cannot serve God and things. We cannot be simultaneously focused on our daily needs here and now and on creating God’s kingdom for the future.

Paul talks about being stewards of God’s mysteries. Stewards must be trustworthy – loyal and unfailing, able to manage what is entrusted to them. And a good steward nurtures the best from the property trusted to her. Like the steward who multiplies the talents rather than burying them. Good stewards multiply God’s gifts. Does being a steward of God’s mysteries mean sharing them, even if we don’t fully understand them (they are mysteries after all), so that more people marvel at them and want to explore them?

If we are stewards of God’s mysteries, what mystery would we tell today? Perhaps the mystery of Jesus’ call to leave behind our anxiety that results from the pursuit of mammon, from worrying about whether we “fit in” or have enough of the “right” things. Pursuing mammon inevitably produces alienation, abandonment, and fear of rejection – broken relationships with ourself, with others and with God. We always end up not feeling good enough, never feeling like we have enough. And we never escape the cycle of thinking some other thing will fill our emptiness and our need.

The good news, the mystery really, is that there is another way to freedom from the anxiety of the rat-race. It’s a way that comes from God’s good generosity. God’s way offers us the safety and joy and freedom we seek – and that we will never actually find in society.

Today’s readings all echo the invitation to trust God in every circumstance. Jesus continually summons us to “Follow me.” To leave behind our slavery to things, to mammon.

But wait, this is starting to sound like a Lent sermon – and Lent doesn’t start for 10 more days! True, this gospel does call us to a certain amount of self-reflection. However, it also is an Epiphany message of light. We cannot be focused on the spreading light to the world, on the good news of Jesus, if we are distracted by focusing on daily worries.

In our world today there are people who don’t have the ability to look ahead to the future because they are focused on basic needs of clean water, adequate and nutritious food, shelter and basic clothing, safety from physical harm. These people live in places we hear about in the news (or maybe visit) places like Afghanistan, Palestine, Sudan, Colombia. And these people live in places we live like the United States of America.

This gospel re-iterates Jesus’ invitation to James and John and Peter and Andrew to “Come, follow me”: to drop our focus on the details of our daily lives and look up to see the future on the horizon; to share our excitement about the possibility of the kingdom of God; to set our sights on doing something about freeing prisoners of oppression, about feeding the hungry and sheltering the vulnerable; to broaden our horizons to the world. It is Epiphany after all, the season of God’s hope for all people – and we are called to be beacons of light and prophets of hope.

HOW can we do this? It’s hard to let go of our daily concerns. When we stop focusing on them, we have to something else on which to focus our energy. My husband says I always have to have something to worry about – and on some level, he’s right – and perhaps it’s true for all of us. When we take away one level of concerns, we re-orient our attention and energy to something else. This gospel invites us to re-orient ourselves to sharing the good news.

Isaiah re-assures us that God will not forget us, will not forget our needs for warmth, shelter, and community. We are inscribed on the palm of God’s hand - a bright shining hand, a hand that defines creation, that cradles us in need and nurtures us to new things. God always remembers us. Can we say the same about remembering God?

“Strive first for the kingdom of God and its righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well” (Mt 6:33, paraphrased). How will we lift our chins, re-orient our vision to be in line with God’s vision? What part of the kingdom is God calling us to create? Personally and as a community, what light will we carry to the world?

Sermon for Last Epiphany

2011-03-07T12:42:00.000-08:00

Here is my sermon from this past Sunday. I welcome any comments or reflections. The scripture readings are here.

Sermon by the Rev. Kate Ekrem for March 6 2011 Transfiguration/Last Epiphany

If light has been our theme this Epiphany, today’s readings bring it all home. Moses encounters the devouring fire of God on the mountaintop, Peter talks about the lamp shining in a dark place until the day days and the morning star rises, and Jesus shining like the sun in the gospel.

In this Epiphany seasons, we’ve been talking about light, us being God’s light and salt,
sent into the world to share and show God’s love with all. Today the Epiphany season comes to and end and always on this Sunday we have the story of the Transfiguration, Jesus shown to be the ultimate light of the world, the one whose light we reflect.

It must have been a life-changing experience for Peter and James and John. So much so that I can easily imagine Peter writing about it all those years later in our second reading from today. You know I tried this week to find scholarship indicating Peter might actually have written the letter 2 Peter, but apparently most scholars agree it was written by one of his disciples much later on. But apparently they too could imagine, maybe then even heard old Peter tell the story, of how they climbed the mountain with Jesus, and suddenly saw him not just as their friend and teacher, but revealed to them as God’s son, as the Second Person of the Trinity, shining as the light of the world, and heard God’s voice saying, “This is my son, the Beloved, Listen to him.” “We ourselves heard this voice come from heaven, while we were with him on the holy mountain.” It’s easy to imagine that that experience would have changed Peter and affected his whole life. It certainly made him someone who reflected the light of God, the light of Jesus, in his own life.

This story asks some questions of us, if we also seek to be God’s light in the world. First, this experience for Peter and the others was part of their relationship with Jesus. It wouldn’t have happened if the weren’t his friends and followers, it was an experience of Jesus. He’s where the light comes from that we reflect. So how are you with Jesus these days? How is that relationship going for you? Some of us may be drawn to God or the HS, but as Christians we have a relationship with Jesus. Yes, even us Episcopalians. Are we letting the Jesus’ self-giving love fill our hearts so we can share that passionate love of Christ with the world?

Second, I think it asks us, how well are we listening? God says, listen to him. Did you notice in the first reading today, Moses sat there on the mountain for 6 days before God spoke to him. Would you wait 6 days for someone to answer your questions, even God? Are we prepared to wait, remaining attentive and open? Or do we get bored and anxious and need to rush to a decision sometimes? How much time do we give to silence and listening, in our world, and in the life of this community? How much of your own personal prayer life is silence and listening?

This is my son, the beloved, listen to him. If we are to be God’s light in the world, we need to drawn near to Jesus, God’s beloved, and listen. As Peter didn’t write but some other Christian did, “You will do well to be attentive to this as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts.”

I can imagine that this vision of Jesus shining on the mountaintop was a lamp shining in a dark place for Peter and the others, that this this vision sustained them and guided them during the long dark days of fear and loss in Jerusalem. It was a vision of reality, of the reality of God present with them, a vision of truth, a vision (dare I say it) of their core values and purpose. “This is my son, the beloved. Listen to him!”

A crystal clear moment of truth, of definitiveness. Maybe you’ve had one, when you knew, you just knew, who it was you wanted to marry and live with for the rest of your life, or what career you just knew you wanted to pursue with all your heart. Those moments don’t come all that often, but when they do they stay with us, they guide us long after they are over. Just so with this vision for Peter and James and John. They spent the whole rest of their lives living into this vision, this bright illumination of ultimate truth and purpose in the world.

What’s your vision? What have you seen with your own eyes? When you seek to be God’ s light in the world, when you reflect the sun’s rays, what is it, to you, that you’re reflecting? Where does that light come from for you? Was it a loving person who passed on to you a love for justice or love for humanity? Was it an experience of human connection, like a trip to El Hogar or a night spent in a homeless shelter that opened your eyes to your brothers and sisters? Or was it a vision like Peter’s, maybe a vision in prayer or a time on a mountaintop of your own. Lent is a good time to reconnect with these sources of God’s light in your life. Remember the person or the experience, revisit the mountaintop. We too can be transfigured by these experiences, transfigured into people who reflect the glory of God.

One of my favorite writes, Walter Wink, defines transfiguration in this way: “Transfiguration is living by a vision: standing foursquare in the midst of a broken, tortured, oppressed, starving dehumanizing reality, yet seeing the invisible, calling it to come, behaving as if it is on the way, sustained by elements of it that have come already, within and among us. in those moments when people are healed, transformed, freed... there the New Creation has come upon us.”

“You will do well to be attentive to this as to a lamp shining in a dark place, until the day dawns and the morning star rises in your hearts.”

Tough words from Jesus

2011-02-14T10:09:00.000-08:00

This Sunday's Gospel was a tough one to preach on: fire and brimstone, plus adultery and divorce! Here's my sermon. And you can find the scripture readings here. For me, this Gospel passage connected to the teachings of the Desert Fathers and Mothers about how we should just let our thoughts be thoughts and not let them control us. I was thinking a lot about this book by Benedictine nun Mary Margaret Funk, but didn't specifically reference it in the sermon.

I welcome your comments and reflections. Here's a discussion question to get you started: if you had been preaching this Sunday, what might you have said?

Sermon by the Rev. Kate Ekrem, 6 Epiphany, Feb 13th 2011

Light and salt, Sabeth reminded us last week are what Jesus asks us to be. Bringing illumination and flavor to the world. And being light and salt is not just about doing a certain thing, it’s about being a certain way. A way that Jesus continues to unpack in this next passage from Sermon on the Mount.

It’s often said that the New Testament, the Christian Scripture, is the law of love and the Old Testament, the Hebrew Scripture, is the law of rules. The theory goes, Jesus brought us God’s grace, which means we don’t have to follow all those hard rules of the OT anymore. This is problematic on a number of levels, first of all because the Hebrew Scripture has plenty of references to God’s love and forgiveness. But also because, today Jesus explains just what that law of love is all about. If we’re just following the law of rules, we can all pat ourselves on the back that we’re not a murderer or bank robber. Congratulations. But Jesus ask us to go a little further than that. As one scholar has said, “The law just forbade a certain act. Jesus forbids the inner attitude which produces the act.” (Herschel Hobbs)

So, in each of these examples, Jesus goes beyond the act that is prohibited to identify the root cause that needs to be healed. You have heard it said, you shall not murder (that’s one of the 10 commandments, right?) but Jesus says, that if you are even just angry with a brother or sister, you shall be liable to judgment. Now I don’t think Jesus is saying all anger is wrong, he certainly felt righteous anger. He’s talking about when we nurse our anger. Hot anger, getting upset and expressing that and moving on, is one thing. Cold anger that congeals around our lives is another.

And Jesus digs even deeper, he connects the way we talk about people to how we act towards them. He says that to express contempt for a person, or group of people, is to deny the value of that person’s life, which can lead to violence. How many times have we seen that in our own world, from Matthew Shepherd to Gabrielle Gifford. We talked in last week’s very thought provoking adult forum about how bad things happen in the world, and they aren’t our fault, and there many be not much w can do about them. I’m not responsible for Hosni Mubarak’s choices. But our thoughtless choices can make us part of a system that does wrong to others. When we express contempt for those different from us, we help create a culture in which violence can happen to the innocent. Jesus says, even saying “you fool” to someone can have serious consequences. As Christians, we are called on to respect the dignity of every human being, and reconciliation and healing of relationships are we do as salt and light.

Jesus goes on to what I can’t help thinking of as the Jimmy Carter passage. You all remember how he confessed that he had “lusted in his heart”. But the point is that we are responsible not just for our actions but also for our interior life. We can’t let thoughts and emotions control us. Carter was and is a person who takes responsibility for what’s going on inside of him. It’s actually kind of sad that that strict self-reflection and holding self accountable was mocked in our culture of outward show and appearances.

In all these examples, Jesus was concerned with the Pharisees who were focused on fulfilling outward forms of law but didn’t have God’s law of justice and concern for others rooted in their hearts. It’s not just about legalities, it’s about where your heart is.

So Jesus’ teaching here about divorce, is because that in those times religious leaders said OK to get divorces as long as you fill out these forms, do this paperwork, then you’re all set. Only, however! if you’re a man, of course. In those times, only a husband could divorce wife, and so women often turned out onto the street with no way to support themselves if their husband decided he was tired of her. Jesus saying, it’s not about the paperwork, it’s about showing concern and care for the vulnerable.

So Jesus is not giving us a new set of outward rules to follow. Jesus certainly would not have said the same thing about divorce to an abused spouse as he does to these self-righteous men. He’s not saying here’s a new rule about divorce, but asking do how to we treat each other and how do we take care of those in need. It’s a new way of thinking, a new way of being. Not law but Spirit, and grace.

Because, as Ecclesiasticus reminds us, we have a choice. A choice between fire and water, between death and life, between life with God and life without God. Living by Grace means we have God’s help, but it doesn’t mean we have God’s help doing something easy. As G.K. Chesterton has said, “The Christian ideal has not been tried and found wanting. It has been found difficult and left untried.”

You have a choice about what’s in your heart and how you act. You may not be in control of the world, but are in control in how you react to the world. If we were going to be judged on our thoughts alone, we’d all be in trouble. But the good news is that in Christ we have the power to allow thoughts to be just thoughts. And not control us or make us act. We have ability to experience full range of human emotions, but also ability not let them rule our lives.

Jesus calls not for new rules, but a new heart. In this Epiphany season, when we continue to remember that Jesus came to us as a baby, a human person, reminds us that God wants to be in relationship with us and through us with the whole world. No one can serve two masters, and Jesus wants us from the inside out. To quote Chesterton again, “let your religion be less of a theory and more of a love affair.”

Follow Up from Sunday's Adult Forum

2011-02-07T05:55:00.000-08:00

We started a discussion yesterday about what we, as Christians, should be doing in response to challenges in the world that we might consider to be issues of social justice, that was precipitated by the ouster of the Tunisian president by public revolt and the current public outcry in Egypt calling for the removal of President Mubarak.

One of the things that often comes up for people as we assess how to respond is what led to the current situation. For those interested in knowing more about the situation in Egypt, here is some information that I have gathered from the Wall Street Journal, Al-Jazeer, a media outlet in Qatar, and several internet sources:
- Many attribute the start of events currently unfolding in Egypt to a police action ... a 28 y.o. man, Khalid Said, was brutally beaten to death by 2 plain clothes officers, supposedly angered over his YouTube posting of them dividing a confiscated bag of marijuana which he posted to highlight the issue of corruption in the police department. Two official autopsy reports claim he died (choked) trying to swallow a bag of marijuana to hide it from the police. European-based outside experts claim the report was falsified and that he died from an extreme beating. Many people who were near the shop where he was abducted and beaten, all claiming he was brutally attacked, his head bashed repeatedly, even after it was clear he was already dead. The accused officers remain at large and charges have not been filed against them.
- The case of Mr. Said highlights the abuse of power exhibited by the police and brings attention to the fact that Egypt has been under a state of emergency (martial law) since 1981 ... justified by the claim of needing to defend the country against terrorism (this is also, by the way, why the Muslim Brotherhood is, officially, an illegal organization in Egypt ... they are suspected of having links to al qaeda).
- Under martial law, the police have had tremendous power, which the people claim they have flaunted and abused over the years. According to Human Rights Watch, torture in Egypt (by the police) is an "epidemic." It is estimated that over 5,000 people have been held in Egyptian jails without trials ... some for decades.
- Under the current political conditions, the media have been restricted, journalists jailed, and elections have been considered shams to legitimate the positions of those in power.
- Part of the energy behind the current uprising has to do with trying to ensure that Mubarak doesn't use sham elections to hand power to his son, who is widely seen as being groomed to step into his father's role in the next election. The demand for Mubarak to leave office immediately is a demand to try and ensure that he doesn't have an opportunity to manipulate the system for a power transfer to his son.
- Egyptian protesters also claim government corruption far beyond the corruption in the police force (and you'll note that the police force is considered problematic at the moment, and that the military is protecting the protesters from police brutality). ... as an aside, one of the tactics used in the past to repress political dissent by the government was to hire thugs to claim to be "government supporters." Many feel that the current clashes between "pro-Mubarak" supporters and protesters are actually being stirred up by government officials hiring thugs to intimidate protesters and to legitimate the need for Mr. Mubarak to remain in power ... to protect against chaos.
- Some manifestations of the political corruption ... 92% of Egyptians don't own the deed to their home, because the system is so corrupt that it's nearly impossible to complete the ownership process; it's estimated that it would take up to 10 years, and visits to 56 government agencies, to complete the appropriate titles and filings to begin a basic business in Egypt ... so most businesses are, technically, unregulated and illegal, and the environment of slow business development contributes to high unemployment.

Welcome to Redeemer's new blog

2011-02-03T10:59:00.000-08:00

Welcome! This is the home of Church of Our Redeemer's new blog. Our idea is to offer spiritual reflections from our clergy -- Kate, Sabeth, and Ted -- and give our church community a chance to share ideas, via the comments, about living a spiritual life in today's world. We'll also post our sermons and invite you to comment on them to share what was meaningful to you, or what other things it made you think about. We hope you'll subscribe (using the tools on the right) so you can get some spiritual thoughts-for-the-day sent right to your email, phone, or whatever. Enjoy!

Peace and blessings,

Kate

Trinity Institute - Reading Scripture Through Other Eyes

2010-09-28T10:08:00.000-07:00

Trinity Episcopal Church in NYC (aka Trinity Wall Street) offers its 41st National Theological Conference on January 19-21, 2011.

Reading Scripture Through Other Eyes will look at how we read Scripture.
Speakers will address topics including:

• What concerns do scholars have when reading scriptures?
• What does an ordinary reader bring?
• How does our culture influence what truths we may find in scripture?
• How do we read scripture together?

Reading Scripture through Other Eyes will consider these questions and others in order to help us become more conscious of what we are looking for when we return to the Bible as a source of inspiration.

Guest panelists will include representatives of the next generation of Bible scholars.
Speakers include: Walter Brueggemann, Mary Gordon, Teresa A. Okure, Gerald O. West, and Steed V. Davidson.

Can't spend 3 days in NYC? This conference has been telecast at several local sites in Greater Boston in the past several years. Check out the Partner Sites link on the website.

Episcopal 201: via media

2010-09-26T04:35:00.000-07:00

via media brings people together with a program that teaches about the Episcopal Church and what it means to be an Episcopalian in today’s world. Join us for dinner and thought-provoking discussion.

Thursdays, 9/30 - 11/18

6:30-8:30pm

Dinner provided

Childcare available, if you reserve by Monday of the week you need it

RSVP appreciated, so we can plan food for dinner.

9/30: via media: An Anglican way of being Christian
10/7: God and Creation: The abundance of God’s Goodness
10/14: God in Jesus: An incarnational faith
10/21: God the Holy Spirit: Breath of new life
10/28: The Bible: The word of God for the people of God
11/4: Sin: Roadblocks to abundant life
11/11: Thy kingdom come: The promise of Christian hope
11/18: So What?

Come to one, or all, or as many as you can or as interest you. We’ll be glad to see you.

Mindfulness Lectures in Lexington

2010-09-25T11:29:00.000-07:00

Mindfulness is the capacity for intentionally bringing our attention and awareness to the present moment and all that it entails without judgment of the moment or without wishing that it were anything other than what it is. Mindfulness also plays a key role in reducing stress.
- Lexington High School newsletter, October 2010

Upcoming lectures on Mindfulness:

"Mindfulness"
Monday, September 27, 2010
7:00-8:30 p.m.
Clarke Middle School auditorium
Dr. Blaise Aguirre, MD

Dr. Blaise Aguirre, MD is a Child and Adolescent Psychiatrist and has lived with his family in Lexington for the past 15 years. He has four children in the Lexington public schools. Dr. Aguirre's lecture on Mindfulness will discuss Mindfulness in general and kick off this series laying the groundwork for future speakers.

"Mindful Parenting"
November 3, 2010
Myla and Jon Kabat Zinn

"The Mindful Teacher"
March 3, 2011
Dr. Dennis Shirley and Elizabeth MacDonald

These lectures are sponsored by Lexington HS School Health Advisory Council and PTSA, and are open to the public.

Working Together: A community response to student stress

2010-09-23T15:40:00.000-07:00

October 24, 2010, 3:00-4:30 p.m.
Church of Our Redeemer, 6 Meriam Street, Lexington, MA

If you care about education in Lexington, but worry about the effects of stress on students, this forum is for you! Learn what’s happening and how you can help at:
• School
• Home
• In the Community

Lexington Public Schools Superintendent Paul Ash, School Committee members, town leaders, and youth health experts will be on hand to educate, listen, and invite your participation as, working together, our community forges constructive responses to the issue of unhealthy student stress. Parents of students in grades K-12, teachers and administrators, and all interested community members are welcome to attend.

“Working Together: A Community Response to Student Stress,” is a secular event organized by Lexington Interfaith and Community, and co-sponsored by the PTA. Members
of Lexington Interfaith include the Church of Our Redeemer, First Parish Church, Follen Church, Hancock Church, Pilgrim Church, Lexington Catholic Communities (Sacred Heart and Saint Brigid Parishes), Temple Emunah, and Temple Isaiah. This event is free and open to the public.
For information, contact Nancy Shepard.

Parent Resources

2010-09-20T08:52:00.000-07:00

As a parent (and, yes, even as a priest), I often wonder how I can bring more spiritual practices to my parenting (translate: more patience and delight) and how I can instill spiritual awareness in my children. Here are some resources of which I've become aware in our community.

Family Circle
Led by Mary Ann Burnside, PhD, these monthly gatherings include multi-age (infant through adult) activities to build awareness of self and others. Bring your kids and join in!
2nd or 3rd Sunday of the month (check the calendar to be sure)
4:00-5:30pm, followed by potluck supper
Church of Our Redeemer, lower level meeting room

Spiritual Parenting
Mimi Doe is a Concord MA based speaker on Spiritual Parenting. Her website is a wonderful resource, as is the opportunity to find a Spiritual Parenting Group to join.

Online Courses for Adult Christian Formation

2010-09-15T16:18:00.000-07:00

As humans, we are always being formed by our life experiences. As Christians, our faith is always being formed and reformed as we reflect on our life experiences, hopes, and desires as God's children. The Episcopal Church is rich with resources for on-line adult Christian formation. Online courses offer the flexibility to work at your own pace, on your own time, from home - while still engaging with thought-provoking texts and on-line class discussions.

Center for Anglican Learning and Leadership at the Church Divinity School of the Pacific
The next session of courses is Oct 25-Dec 17, with registrations closing on Oct 18
Courses for the next session include:
The Prophetic Voice of the Deacon
Women in the New Testament and Early
Christianity
Benedictine Spirituality
Medieval Church History
Introduction to Anglican Liturgy
A Wild Kingdom: Rediscovering Animals
in Christian Theology

EDSConnect: Continuing Education at the Episcopal Divinity School
Courses are on-line, and are available to all regardless of ordination status, denomination, or previous theological education.

The Online School for Spirituality and Mission at the Seminary of the Southwest
Current Fall 2010 courses include:
Following Jesus in a Culture of Fear
Praying with the Desert Fathers and Mothers
Science and Spirituality

Education for Ministry (EfM) Online
Education for Ministry is a program designed for laity to provide theological study and reflection rooted in the Scriptures and traditions of the Church. EfM Online provides people who cannot attend a weekly face-to-face group an opportunity to participate in this course of study.

Welcome

2010-09-07T09:52:00.000-07:00

Welcome to Church of Our Redeemer’s newest mode of communication! It is our hope that this blog will allow our church community to share inspiration, upcoming calendar events, celebrations, and communicate new programs in an easy paperless manner. Each new post will be “tagged” by a theme, so that our readers can easily access a category of previously published materials. Sermons. Christian Formation. Mission. Music. Celebrations. Stewardship. Please consider subscribing to this blog in a “reader” which allows new posts to be emailed directly to you as they are published.