Christmas Eve

This season, I’ve been listening to one particular Christmas cd over and over again. It is Yo-Yo Ma and Friends: Songs of Joy and Peace. I had listened to it several times without really thinking about it before something strange about it occurred to me. Out of the 28 Christmas songs that Yo-Yo Ma and his friends have compiled, 8 of them are different versions/ improvisations on one song: Dona Nobis Pacem. Dona nobis pacem. Do you know this song? It’s actually found in our own hymnal on page 712. It goes like this: It means, “grant us peace.” So as I’ve been listening to this Christmas album through this season, I’ve been listening to this one song over and over and over again. Grant us peace. Grant us peace. It is a simple song of both hope and longing. I think it is safe to say that every single one of us longs for peace. And like those different musicians doing different improvisations on the same song, we sing this longing for peace differently in our own lives. Some of us sing it hopefully. Some of us sing it sadly, remembering what peace we have lost. Some of us sing it angrily, as we see the injustice around us or in our own lives. But no matter how each of us sings it, it is the song that is found at the deepest, depths of each of our hearts. Lord, grant us peace. It is what we have come here tonight in search of. It is what we long to experience and encounter here, at least on this one night, if we can’t have it in any other place or time. Lord, grant us peace. So what do we make of the angels’ proclamation to the shepherds? “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!” It seems that they are saying that peace comes with Jesus, but if this is so, then how is it that we long so desperately for it all these many years later? One of the deep truths that we are called to remember this night, when we celebrate the birth of Emmanuel--God with us--is this. Jesus doesn’t bring the kingdom of God; he reveals the kingdom of God. Jesus doesn’t bring peace. He reveals that peace is already here, within our grasp and within our hearts. On this night, of all nights, we remember that God takes on human form to reveal to us Godself, to reveal to us just how much God cherishes us. In and through this gift, God shows that God experiences and understands how difficult and dark our days can be, how confused we get about our identity and place, how many painful things we do to each other out of that confusion and insecurity. And through Jesus, God shows us, again and again and again, but also for the first time tonight, that God loves us—deeply, truly, and forever; that God is with us; that God’s kingdom is already here among us; and that God’s peace already dwells deep within us. The message of the angels for us this night is this. You are of infinite value, deeply loved by God. God is with you, and you already have the peace of God within you. So tonight, we sing this song of longing for peace out of place of thanksgiving—that God’s peace is already ours (You can sing it with me if you like…)

4th Sunday of Advent

4th Sunday of Advent Year B December 24, 2017 When I was in college, we had to do a project in a religious studies class where we sought out and interviewed a leader in a religious tradition that was very different from our own. I reached out to the Greek Orthodox priest in town, a man named Father Paul Christie, who graciously allowed me to interview him. I only remember a couple of things that we talked about in that interview many years ago, but one of the things I remember is Mary. I asked him, “How does your tradition view Mary?” And he answered, “We believe that Mary is the best that humanity had to offer God.” Another Episcopal priest once wrote that scripture is the Love story of God for God’s people: it shows how God has pursued us, wooed us, mourned us, and pursued us again. Over and over in scripture, all God wants is for us to say “yes” to God. Yes, we will be your people. Yes, we will not forsake you for other gods or other idols that we will worship. Yes, we will treat each other how you want us to treat each other. Yes, we will care for the poor and the neglected among us. Yes we will take care of your creation. Yes, we will open our hearts to you and offer our very lives to be in relationship with you and service to you. And finally, Mary does this. She says “yes” to God. And her yes makes all the difference in the world. Her “yes” opens the way for God to become flesh and dwell among us. Her “yes” opens the way to the lifting up of the lowly, the scattering of the proud, the filling of the hungry with good things. Her “yes” has opened the way for the remembrance of the Lord’s mercy and the fulfillment of God’s promise to God’s people. Truly she is the best that humanity has to offer, and yet, her yes is not beyond our reach. How might you be called to say “yes” to God on this holy day, in this holy season?

Advent 3B 2017

Advent 3B December 17, 2017 My husband likes to tell a story on himself. You may have even heard him tell it. As newlyweds, we moved to Mississippi from seminary in New York, and we started working in our first church together. As people tried to get to know us, they would ask David about his parents. He was often confused by this initially, and he would tell them his parents’ names, and then stop talking. His conversation partners would look at him confusedly as well, and the conversation would come to a screeching halt. Finally, I pulled him aside after witnessing one of these awkward conversations, and I said to him, “When they ask you “who are you parents?’ tell them you aren’t from here, but you married a girl from Canton. Then, when they ask, tell them about my parents.” So the next time the question came around, he tried it, and it worked like a dream. Because, and I suspect this is similar here in Savannah, folks weren’t really interested in the names of his parents. Instead, they were seeking to find out from him, “Who are you, and how might we be connected?” “Who are you?” is the question that John the Baptist gets in today’s gospel. And like David, he doesn’t really answer it well, either. He starts off by answering the question by telling them who he is not: “Are you the Messiah?” “No!” “Well, are you Elijah? “No!” “Ok, then, are you a prophet?” “No!” Then they say to him, “Who are you? Let us have an answer for those who sent us. What do you say about yourself?” He said, “I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, ‘Make straight the way of the Lord,’” as the prophet Isaiah said. John quotes scripture to explain who he is—that he is the one who is called to proclaim the coming of the Messiah. He is the one who testifies to the light, who points people toward Jesus, and helps them prepare for Jesus’s coming. In the reading from Isaiah today, I can’t help but hear the scriptural reference for Jesus’s own understanding of who he is, and the question that he answers in his early ministry in Nazareth, before it is even asked. (When he returns home to Nazareth in Luke’s gospel, he is handed the scroll of the prophet Isaiah, and he chooses to read a portion from today’s reading to answer the question who he is: “The spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me; he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners; to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor…” Just as I was able to help David articulate an answer to the question “Who are you?” that would help him connect with his inquisitors, scripture can help us answer the question “who are you?” in a way that can help us connect to those around us to whom we may be called to point to the light, in a fashion similar to John the Baptist. I once heard a story about a portion of the letter to the Thessalonians for today. New Testament scholar and Bishop NT Wright talks about how he received a card at his ordination so many years ago with the line from 1 Thessalonians written on it: “The one who calls you is faithful.” This understanding has been key in my priesthood, especially in seasons when I have wandered in the wilderness and survived (and even flourished) solely by the grace of God. So, my invitation to you this week is to consider what scripture you would use if someone were to ask you the question “Who are you?” as it relates to your Christian journey? There is an abundance of scripture, and the task may seem overwhelming, so if you need a place to start, I suggest you start with the readings for today, see if any one of those speaks to your heart in a compelling way. As you embark on this journey of discerning what scripture speaks to you and helps you answer the question: “who are you?” may you rest in the assurance of the love of the God who created you, who knit you together in your mother’s womb, and who knows you infinitely better than you can ask or imagine. “For the one who calls you is faithful.”

Blue Christmas meditation 2017

Blue Christmas meditation December 16, 2017 When we moved to the Mississippi Gulf Coast in 2009, the senior warden of the church gave me a tour of the Coast. As we drove down Beach Blvd or Highway 90 which runs along the Gulf of Mexico, it was a rather barren landscape. Whole swaths or property were vacant or worse-- still had the remnants of buildings decimated by Hurricane Katrina. A few structures had been rebuilt at that point, but not many. And the senior warden, a life-long resident of Gulfport, talked to me about how he would sometimes get lost in Gulfport right after Katrina because all the street signs and most of the familiar landmarks were gone. It was a sad sight, and a sad story, as I prepared to begin my new life there among those people who were rebuilding their lives, their homes, their landscape, and their very world. But, then I noticed something else. The oak trees. They have oak trees much like we do here, with the lovely Spanish moss hanging off. Oaks that are a testament to strength, longevity, grace, and beauty. But there was something different about their oak trees. They were beaten and scarred. Some of them had weathered the storm surge and the beating of debris from Katrina and were still standing, albeit battered. Others, the senior warden told me, had fallen in the storm and couldn’t be saved. (Some of those had been left as a stump that a local artist made beautiful sculptures out of, but others were just gone) But still other oak trees, he said, had fallen on their sides with their massive roots exposed. And he and other people had gathered with their heavy machinery right after the storm, and they pushed those massive oak trees back upright, putting their roots back into the ground, and they prayed for the best. And many of those oak trees were thriving as we drove past and he pointed them out. Many of you are here at this service because you have lost someone or something, some important part of your life, and you are not feeling the joy of this holiday season. You may be here because your inner landscape feels like a wilderness, or you feel that you have become lost in your familiar life, where all the road signs and landmarks are gone or destroyed. It is where you are today, but it may not be where you will remain. And I am here to tell you today, that you are an oak of righteousness, that will be restored by God or by one of God’s messengers. It may not happen today, and it may not happen tomorrow. But you are not, nor will you be lost. God has not forgotten you. The reading from 1 Thessalonians today, which we didn’t read in the service tonight, has a line in it that I offer to you this night, to carry forward with you into the darkness like a light. “The one who calls you is faithful.” It is the heart of the gospel, and it this truth that will bear fruit in your life, if you will let it, in ways that you might never expect. Whatever it is that you are mourning, whatever it is that brings you here this night, may you imagine yourself like one of those mighty oak trees felled by Katrina, lying on its side. Now imagine God pushing you back upright to be living but changed, beaten but not broken, with your roots sunk firmly in the soil of God’s creation. Know that you are cherished by God, and that you will not be lost. For the one who calls you is faithful. Amen.

2nd Sunday of Advent year B

Advent 2B 2017 December 10, 2017 Have you ever had an experience where it felt like the entire landscape of your life was changed in one moment? It could happen through loss—the death of a loved one—a spouse, a parent, a child; the loss of a job, a home, status, a large amount of money, a marriage, or another type of relationship. It can also happen in a moment when God gives you an epiphany—a manifestation of God’s presence, an understanding that people or the world work differently than you thought, or that you have been called to live your life in a different way, called to go in a different direction. Have you ever had an experience when it felt like the entire landscape of your life was changed in one moment? What once was smooth going has become rocky, arduous. What once was a verdant valley has become a barren wilderness. What once was an easy way through a flat landscape has become a treacherous climb up the highest of mountains. This can happen to us as individuals, but it can also happen to us as a people, as a culture. We’ve seen it in the Church (that’s church with a capitol C) over the last couple of decades—a realization that the landscape of the church has changed and must continue to change to continue to fulfill its calling as God’s ministers of reconciliation in a way that is relevant to a quickly changing culture. We’ve seen it happening in our culture—there is a definite sense that the landscape is changing daily, under our very feet, that all the old, familiar cultural landmarks are being transformed in unrecognizable and frightening ways. Have you ever felt that the entire landscape of your life, your world has changed in one moment? Well, you are not alone in that. The Children of Israel have this same experience when they are taken into captivity in Babylon. They are made the slaves of a foreign government who worshiped a foreign god, and all that was most precious to them—that which sets them apart as Yahweh’s chosen people—is destroyed—their homeland, their government, their families, and even their temple, the center of their worship and their holiest of holy places. Their voices cry out in the wilderness of their new lives, and God hears them and promises to respond. “Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that she has served her term, that her penalty is paid, that she has received from the Lord's hand double for all her sins. A voice cries out: ‘In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God. Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain. Then the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all people shall see it together, for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.’” God promises to rearrange the landscape. And although it will certainly look differently than it did before, and it will be re-arranged through most unexpected agents, God does fulfill this promise for Israel. God does fulfill this promise for us. Have you ever felt that the entire landscape of your life, your world has changed in one moment? Isaiah 40 is the love song that God sings for you in the midst of your broken-heart, in the wilderness of your changed landscape. It is the work of the church to sing this love-song to all those who are broken-hearted, (and there are so many of them, here in the pews with us and also outside of these walls). It is our work to offer God’s promise that God will restore all things and to keep watch with them as they wait in longing for the fulfillment of that promise. In closing, I want to share with you a blessing written by poet, artist and UM elder Jan Richardson. Prepare A Blessing for Advent Strange how one word will so hollow you out. But this word has been in the wilderness for months. Years. This word is what remained after everything else was worn away by sand and stone. It is what withstood the glaring of sun by day, the weeping loneliness of the moon at night. Now it comes to you racing out of the wild, eyes blazing and waving its arms, its voice ragged with desert but piercing and loud as it speaks itself again and again: Prepare, prepare. It may feel like the word is leveling you, emptying you as it asks you to give up what you have known. It is impolite and hardly tame, but when it falls upon your lips you will wonder at the sweetness, like honey that finds its way into the hunger you had not known was there. —Jan Richardson from Circle of Grace i i. http://adventdoor.com/2015/11/29/advent-2-a-blessing-for-preparing/

The First Sunday of Advent Year B

Advent 1B December 3, 2017 One of the preaching blog posts that I follow started off with this line this week: “I sometimes think Norman Rockwell is one of the most dangerous artists of the past century.” Well, of course, I was intrigued and had to read more. The writer, a Lutheran pastor and former preaching professor named David Lose continues: “I know that may initially sound a bit absurd, as Rockwell’s overly cheerful, even sentimental style led many to dismiss him as a serious artist and, indeed, often to refer to him instead as a mere illustrator. Moreover, I say this as one who enjoys Rockwell’s endearing style and portrait of what feels like a bygone era. Yet it is precisely Rockwell’s sentimentality that poses certain hazards, particularly when it is viewed not as sentimental but as ideal. Think of it this way: how many of us look at Rockwell’s famous painting of a family gathered around a holiday table (presumably Thanksgiving), all smiles and about to dig into a turkey, and somehow wonder why our family experiences don’t quite measure up. No arguing in this picture. No debate over recent politics. No one sulking because a favorite dish has been omitted or because there are no gluten-free options at grandma’s table. Instead, familial bliss. Perfection. Little wonder our experiences don’t measure up.”i Lose goes on to talk about how Norman Rockwell is not really our problem. Our problem is that we as humans often spend so much time focusing on the ideal that we lose sight of the gifts of our own realities. Think about how often you have measured your life, your family, your job, this church up to some sort of ideal: if only I had the ideal job, the ideal home, the ideal children and holidays and vacations, the ideal church. We all do this, and it can be a true impediment for us for a deeper relationship with God and happier, more fulfilled life. Today is the first Sunday of Advent. It begins not just a new season but also a new year in our church calendar. I love Advent because in the midst of the clamor of commercialism swirling around us, it invites us to slow down, to wait, to reflect, to keep watch. Advent is the perfect time for us to seek to strip away all of our ideals that we cling to, and to see our lives, our jobs, our families, our church, with new eyes. But how do we do this? In our epistle reading for today, Paul is writing to the Christian community in Corinth. And he begins (in his customary way) by giving thanks: “Grace to you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. I give thanks to my God always for you because of the grace of God that has been given you in Christ Jesus, for in every way you have been enriched in him, in speech and knowledge of every kind-- just as the testimony of Christ has been strengthened among you-- so that you are not lacking in any spiritual gift as you wait for the revealing of our Lord Jesus Christ.” Sounds a bit idealized, doesn’t it? But, wait! Listen to what Paul is really saying here! He is giving thanks on their behalf for the grace of God that has been given to them through Christ Jesus. He’s not giving thanks for them for anything that they have done. He is giving thanks for them because they have received God’s gifts and can show forth Christ’s glory. And, here’s what else we need to remember about 1st Corinthians. Later on in this same letter, Paul really lets the Corinthians have it because they have been up to all sorts of shenanigans—there’s all sorts of conflict in the church, and Paul give them the equivalent of a good chewing out. There is no doubt that he sees them clearly. That he loves them, and he knows that they can do better than they have been. But, he starts with gratitude on their behalf to God for the grace that God has given them through Jesus Christ. And that is where we need to start, too, if we want to use this Advent season to see things with new eyes. My children and I have a spiritual practice that we started a couple of years ago. We call it “the three things.” As I am putting them to bed each night, I ask them to name for me three things that they have been grateful for on that particular day. The results are always lovely and surprising for me, and they are usually things that surprised them during the day and that they had very little control over—things that were, for them, pure gifts from God. In this way, we are all able to see the day that is just behind us with new eyes, with new appreciation, and we drift off to sleep assured of God’s presence and God’s good gifts and grace in our lives. Today is the completion of our annual giving campaign, the day that we turn in our pledge cards for the year out of a sense of gratefulness for the gifts that God has given St. Thomas, the grace God has given us through Jesus Christ, and for the gifts that God gives us in our lives and through the people and ministries of this place. It is my hope that we can live and work together out of this place of gratitude over the coming year, as we seek to see this old church with new eyes. Your invitation for this week (and really all of Advent) is to think about what part of your life you have most held to an idealized version (your job, your health, your family, your home, your church…). Practice daily recounting the three things—what three things you are grateful for in that area of your life on that given day. Give thanks to God for those good gifts, and invite God to help you see that part of your life with new eyes. i. http://www.davidlose.net/2017/11/advent-1-b-a-present-tense-advent/