The First Sunday after Pentecost-Trinity Sunday Year B

First Sunday after Pentecost-Trinity Sunday Year B May 27, 2018 In her book Leaving Church, Barbara Brown Taylor writes about telling several anecdotes to her Atlanta friends to explain her decision to leave a large Episcopal church in the city to take up the call as rector of a small church in a small town in northern Georgia. She writes, “When my friends in Atlanta asked me how things were going in north Georgia, I told them that I was living in a Flannery O’Connor story. I would spend one afternoon visiting a septuagenarian who lived in an octagonal house that her late husband had built for her, eating kiwis that she grew on her clothesline and listening to her reminiscences of Isadora Duncan. The next day I would take communion to a man who was back in the hospital for the third operation on his knee, which was crushed when his pickup truck rolled backward and pinned him against his trailer. After church on Trinity Sunday, I came out to my car to find a miniature Three Musketeers candy bar on the hood. Underneath it was a note from the deeply eccentric woman who lived across the street from the church. ‘One for all and all for one,’ the note read. ‘Happy Trinity Sunday.’i Today, on this first Sunday after Pentecost every year, our church calendar designates this as a day when we focus on the Trinity. I suspect, like me, you have all had your own experiences of really good and really bad Trinity Sunday sermons. I feel certain you have heard, at least once, many of the theological concepts behind the doctrine of the Trinity: a Trinity Sunday sermon that consists of phrases like: “that the one God exists in 3 persons and one substance—Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. God is one, yet self-differentiated; the God who reveals Himself to humankind is one God equally in 3 distinct modes of existence, yet remains one through all eternity.”ii Or “that the Latin word personae which we translate as person (as in the 3 persons of the Trinity) is the same word used to talk about the masks that actors used to portray different characters in the theater.” Or perhaps even: St. Augustine compared the Son and the Holy Spirit to processes of human self-knowledge and self-love. He wrote that the Son came from an act of thinking on the part of the Father and the Spirit was a result of the mutual love of the Father and the Son. But even more than intellectual constructs, the notion of the Trinity resonates more through metaphor over the years: “from the Desert Fathers comparing the members of the Trinity to the source of light (Father), the light itself that illumines (Son), and the warmth when you feel the light (Spirit) to Augustine's Lover (Father), Beloved (Son), and the Love shared between the two (Spirit).”iii There was even the hapless seminarian who once preached a Trinity Sermon Sunday comparing the Trinity to a fidget spinner. And metaphors are good. They do get us to dance a little better with the mystery that is the Trinity. But today, I want to talk about the implications of the Trinity in our daily life. What significance does it have for us? In the midst of life, at the beginning of this long, green season of Ordinary Time, today we stop and remember the important truth that our God is a relational God, a God who created us specifically to be in relationship with God and whose three different aspects exist in a kind of playful, joyful dance that really makes God more accessible to us. We remember that all of God delights in us, too, and invites us to participate in this joyful, playful, delightful dance with God. The German mystic Mechtild of Magdeburg says it this way when she has God saying to us: “I, God, am your playmate! I will lead the child in you in wonderful ways for I have chosen you. Beloved child, come swiftly to ME for I am truly in you. Remember this: The smallest soul of all is still the daughter of the Father, the sister of the Son, the friend of the Holy Spirit and the true bride of the Holy Trinity.”iv So instead of talking theology or doctrine or even more metaphor today, let’s talk poetry. I once read a poem that captured the notion of Trinity for me in a new and different way, and in my rediscovery of it, it has captured my imagination about how my life with my family, my prayer life, and all aspects of how I am in this world in relationship to God and others could be different. It is called Playtime by Michael Hare Duke. Playtime It takes a kind of courage To find time for play… Thank God for the dreams in which we mount our fiery imaginations and ride off into the misty mountains. Night takes to task the busy day; but why am I ashamed to claim the right to conscious play within the waking world? When I can sit and let my mind catch fire I understand how God sang for fun calling out of nothing all creation. Wagtails bounce and flip their feathers salmon leap, the world turns, the planets wheel, tiny or vast orchestrated into a joyful tune, the models of all making. Dreams, imagination and God’s laughter in creation invite me out of my industrious solemnity, to take the task of playing seriously until my marred manhood is recreated in the child I have denied.v Where have you encountered God’s laughter in creation or in other places in your life this week? Where have you tasted God’s delight in your life? That is the Trinity at work in your life and in the world: indefinable, unbridled laughter and joy that cannot be contained and that delights in you and creates, redeems, and sustains all relationships. That is what we remember, celebrate, and savor this day. So. Happy Trinity Sunday. Let’s have a little bit of play today and do something you may have never done before. Eat chocolate in church. I have Three Musketeers for everyone that I will pass out now, and I encourage you to eat yours while you pass the peace. May it feed you to look for God’s laughter in creation in your life in the coming week as you witness the delight of the Trinity at work in the world. And remember, “Happy Trinity Sunday! All for one and one for all!” i.Taylor, Barbara Brown. Leaving Church. Harper: San Francisco, 2006, o. 67. ii.Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church. ed. F.L. Cross and E.A. Livingstone. Oxford: 1997, p 1641. iii.David Lose at http://www.workingpreacher.org/craft.aspx?post=1617 iv.Fox, Matthew. Christian Mystics. 365 Readings and Meditations. New World Library, 2011, p 64. v.Playtime by Michael Hare Duke. Resources for Preaching and Worship Year C. Ed. Hanna Ward and Jennifer Wild. Westminster: Louisville, 2003, p 174.

The Day of Pentecost-Year B

The Day of Pentecost-Year B May 20, 2018 Four years ago, I was on an 8 week sabbatical in Hawaii where David was working for 10 months. Our family had a wonderful time and experienced so many unique and interesting things. One night, our friend Paul convinced both David and me to go skydiving with him and a group of our friends. [Let me just say I have no idea why I agreed to this! (But I will say there may or may not have been whiskey involved in the decision making process.) As most of you know, I am one of the least likely people to agree to go skydiving. But I did.] As we went to bed the night before our skydiving trip, I lay awake for hours absolutely terrified. I lay there imagining what it was going to be like to stand in the doorway of the open side of the plane and to have to jump out into the great wide open. And I thought, “I don’t know how I’m going to do that.” But I had committed to going and didn’t want to back out. When the day finally arrived and we got all suited up for our jump, I was introduced to my tandem jumper, a very large Russian man named Viktor. As Viktor tried to make small talk with me, I think he quickly realized that a). I was absolutely terrified and b). I couldn’t talk much because I was trying not to throw up. We took off in the plane as Viktor was religiously checking and re-checking all the buckles and straps of our two harnesses by which we were thoroughly attached, and all too quickly, it became our turn to go. The moment I had most feared loomed before me. I made my way to stand in the doorway of the plane (which was rolled open on the side of the plane like a garage door), and I remember thinking that there was no way I was going to be able to do this, when Viktor did something that surprised me. He shouted in my ear to sit down on the floor of the plane and dangle my legs out. I felt a certain degree of momentary relief as I followed his instructions, and the next thing I knew, I was out of the plane and hurtling through the great blue sky. Now, what I only realized later after talking to our friends was how Viktor and I actually got out of that plane. Our friends confessed how horrified they were to watch as Viktor actually threw me/us out of the airplane. Today is the feast of Pentecost, when we celebrate the gift of the Holy Spirit. The word that Jesus uses that is translated as Holy Spirit is Paraclete, and that actually has been translated in a variety of ways. One way is as Comforter (which I talked about last week). Another is Advocate; another is Helper. Some equate the Holy Spirit with Wisdom or Sophia (from the Old Testament) who is personified as a woman. Another way of translating Paraclete is “the one who comes alongside.” But regardless of how you translate it, the readings for today are clear. When the Holy Spirit shows up, the Holy Spirit brings change, and change is hard for us (I’ll refer you back to the Romans reading.) And you know, as much as I like to see that lovely comforting Holy Spirit show up with a cup of tea and words of comfort, sometimes the Holy Spirit shows up, comes alongside us, checks and double checks that we are harnessed together securely and, like Viktor, throws us out of the airplane because there is just no way we are getting out on our own. And thankfully, the Holy Spirit stays connected as we free fall for what seems like an eternity but is really only seconds and then deploys the parachute with a tremendous jerk that leads us to land (sometimes softly, sometimes not) at our next destination. (It’s interesting to me to note that the only other time I’ve shared this sky-diving story in a sermon was exactly a year ago today, when I was interviewing with another search committee in another church, exactly one week before I came here and met your search committee. I knew the Holy Spirit was in the process of throwing me (and my family) out of the plane, but I had no idea she would land us here in Savannah. And oh, how thankful I am that she did!) How has the Holy Spirit shown up in unexpected ways in your life or in the life of this parish often during times of change or transition? In what ways might God be calling you to trust in the work of the Holy Spirit, as unexpected as it might be? What are the lessons that the Holy Spirit may be trying to teach you right now that you are not able to learn on your own? Where are the airplanes that you have to get thrown out of because there’s no way you’re going to jump on your own? In closing, I’ll share with you a quote from Thomas Merton that I came across this week: “You do not need to know precisely what is happening or exactly where it is all going. What you need is to recognize the possibilities and the challenges offered by the present moment and to embrace them with courage, faith, and hope.”

The 7th Sunday of Easter-Sunday after Ascension Day Year B

The 7th Sunday of Easter Year B May 13, 2018 We find ourselves in a strange, in between time, liturgically today. Today is the 7th Sunday after Easter-The Sunday after the Ascension where we find ourselves dwelling in a liturgical “already-not yet.” Jesus has already ascended to be with God, and the gift of the Holy Spirit has not yet been given to his disciples. Our gospel for today is a portion of Jesus’s prayer for his disciples when they are gathered for the last supper together in the upper room, and the Acts reading shows us a glimpse of the disciples, immediately after Jesus’ ascension, where they are working to “keep calm and carry on” in finding a replacement for Judas. But today, on this in between sort of liturgical day which also intersects with the secular holiday of Mother’s Day, I find myself drawn to an image in today’s collect when we demand of God: “Do not leave us comfortless, but send us your Holy Spirit to strengthen us, and exalt us to that place where our Savior Christ has gone before…” When I first read that collect, I heard echoes of something else, but I couldn’t remember exactly what. So I did what any sound preacher would do; I googled it. And when I googled “do not leave us comfortless,” John 14: 18 popped up, when Jesus prepares his disciples for his leaving and says to them, “I will not leave you comfortless.” Except the Greek word that is translated as “comfortless” is actually orphanus. Orphans. I will not leave you as orphans. So, our prayer to God, on this weird, in between Sunday which also happens to be Mother’s Day is “Do not leave us as orphans…” Off and on over the last year or so, I’ve been haunted by Gillian Welch’s song Orphan Girl. Do y’all know this song? I am an orphan on God's highway But I'll share my troubles if you go my way I have no mother, no father No sister, no brother I am an orphan girl I have had friendships pure and golden The ties of kinship have not known them I know no mother, no father No sister, no brother I am an orphan girl But when He calls me I will be able To meet my family at God's table I'll meet my mother, my father My sister, my brother No more an orphan girl This past week, we celebrated one of my favorite saints on our church calendar: Dame Julian of Norwich. On that day, I was reading through some of Julian’s more well-known sayings, and I found this one: “Our Savior is our true mother in whom we are endlessly born and out of whom we shall never come.” If that is true, then where does this feeling, this fear of being orphaned, of being left comfortless come from? There are so many ways that our own actions or even the actions of others can make us think or believe or act like we are estranged from God, that we are orphans, left comfortless to the fates and furies of a cold, heartless world. And then we live into this reality. We act like we are orphaned, like we have been left comfortless, and our actions estrange us from others and further isolate us from God’s love. Our invitation today is to remember Julian’s words and to seek to always dwell in the truth of them: “Our Savior is our true mother in whom we are endlessly born and out of whom we shall never come.” To not act out of our feelings of abandonment, of being orphaned, of being comfortless because they are not of God. They are created by our own sin, by our estrangement from God and each other, from our tendency to seek our own way above all others. And when we act out of our orphaned feelings, we continue the cycle by creating estrangement with others. Our prayer this week to Jesus our mother is “do not leave us comfortless.” I invite you to spend some time this week, tenderly examining your life, looking to see if there is some place in your life, in your heart or soul where you feel orphaned by God or others, where you feel estranged, comfortless? Tenderly examine your actions and ask yourself, “In this instance, am I acting out of a feeling of being orphaned, or am I acting out of a place of belonging? Then offer it to the loving gaze of Jesus and pray: do not leave me comfortless. And rest in the heart of God where you will always created to dwell. But when He calls me I will be able To meet my family at God's table I'll meet my mother, my father My sister, my brother No more an orphan girl

The 6th Sunday of Easter Year B-baptism letter

The 6th Sunday of Easter Year B May 6, 2018 A letter to Marin Tarpley and Payton Hunt upon the occasion of their baptisms Dear Marin and Payton, On this day of your baptism, I want to share with you some of Jesus’s parting words to his disciples as he tries to prepare them for his death and resurrection: “As the Father has loved me, so I have loved you; abide in my love. If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love, just as I have kept my Father’s commandments and abide in his love. I have said these things to you so that my joy may be in you, and that your joy may be complete.” As you embark on this journey of faith that begins today and will last throughout your entire life, you can carry in your heart this promise from Jesus. But what does it mean? What does it mean to abide in Jesus’s love? How do we do that so that we may taste that elusive joy which he promises? One way of thinking about this, Marin and Payton, is to hear his words a little differently. Jesus is actually telling his disciples and us: “make your home in me and I will make my home in you.” Now, this is something you girls know a little more about. Your parents have created for each of you a home where you are safe and secure, where you are loved and cherished, a home where all your needs are met, and where you are loved beyond all measure. By making your home in this home already created for you by your parents, you already know something of what Jesus means. You grow and you flourish in this home. You will stay there until you are ready to be out on your own. You will learn from those who love you, and you will teach them as well. (I suspect, even though you are both quite young, you have already taught your parents a good bit!) You will bring certain gifts to your family, and they will learn how to use them, and you will all work together to grow you up into a healthy, joyful adult. So making your home in Jesus’s love, abiding in Jesus’s love, is similar. It requires the same things: connection, dependence, and continuance. You are connected to Jesus; you learn about him through your parents, godparents, grandparents, Sunday school teachers, and the other caring people in this your community of faith. We promise to teach you about prayer, the chief way that we are connected to Jesus, and we also promise to try to teach you to “seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving your neighbor as yourself.” You remember that you are dependent on Jesus. At some point, sweet girls, you will fall. You will fail. You will be heartbroken and weary. In those times, we must all help you remember that you may cast your cares on our Lord, and that he will show you the way that you must follow to be returned to his joy. And the final way of abiding is continuance. This means staying put, blooming where you are planted. Today you are being baptized into the body of Christ in this particular community of faith. We make promises to you and to God that we will work to support you, to nurture you, to help you connect to God and with all of us, but you must be here for us to do that. In all of these ways and so many more, Jesus makes his home in us, and we make our home in him. But, lest you get bogged down in this to-do list as a way that you can achieve this joy that Jesus’ promises, you must remember the final part of what Jesus says to us this day: “You did not choose me but I chose you.” The grace of God, the joy of Jesus and the gift of the Holy Spirit have already been given to you. You have already been chosen by Jesus, claimed as God’s beloved from the moment of your birth. There is nothing that you can or have to do to earn this. All you have to do is abide in it. And that is the beautiful truth of this day. May your life be lived at home in the God who loves you, and may you know and taste God’s joy on this day and on all days. Your sister in Christ, Melanie+