1 Advent, Sunday, November 27, 2011
Preached by The Rev. Mary Catherine Young
Chaplain for Campus Ministry, Canterbury Downtown
Diocese of New York
Which would you prefer? A store-bought cookie, made by "elves," or something hand-made by someone you know, and who knows you? (Well, maybe your answer depends on who baked those cookies...) but still, there is nothing like a homemade cookie made with intention for another's enjoyment,
brought, fresh from the oven, and warm in your belly.
When the urge hits me, I love to make cookies.
The preparation for this activity begins with the inspiration, the desire to create something good, for me to enjoy, and to share: what kind of cookies shall I make? Who are they made for? How many will a batch yield?
I then gather the proper ingredients, get out the my bowls (my favorite multicolor Pyrex mixing bowls, of course), measure out the amounts of flower, sugar and vanilla extract, crack the eggs, melt the butter, grease the cookie sheets, and most importantly, call forth some good old elbow grease. Once everything has been mixed together in its proper order, its time to separate out the serving sizes - will they be small bite-size, or human head sized cookies? (Each has their benefit). Then they must be placed in the oven to bake. Time goes by, the timer dings, the trays are removed, and the cookies need to be placed on a cooling rack for at least a few moments, because tasting one too quickly out of the oven can mean a burned mouth, ruining the ability to enjoy another taste! And of course, a cold glass of milk has to be poured to accompany the special delivery to the mouth.
That's where the real payoff is - receiving the delicious joyful mouth full of freshly made cookie goodness, and handing them over to those you made them for - to share the joy with them. After all, I've never known a batch of cookies to be in an number sized just for one - in fact, my experience of baking cookies is always an abundance, that just seems to keep on giving.
Now there are all kinds of easy ways to get a cookie into your mouth - especially in this city filled with pastry shops, cupcake carts and of course, grocery stores with good ol' Oreos. But the satisfaction of taking the time to prepare something for yourself, and for someone else, the mixing and the batter tasting, the preheating of the oven and waiting for the right time to pass before pulling the tray out, the taste of that classic, love imbedded treat when it melts in your mouth...there's so much more to that, than to the experience of buying a box of cookies, opening the package, and having one on the street. There is purpose that pays off immensely, when we allow ourselves to experience something over the course of time, like the season of Advent.
Today we enter together, a new year in the church calendar. In our faith tradition its is not Christmas where the story begins, though it is a story of new birth, but as with the story of creation, there is always a story that comes before... The season of Advent is about what came before. Who was there? How do their stories impact our identity? What must we learn from them, so that we do not make the same mistakes? It's a time of journey toward, not only the cresch of the Christ child, but toward the in-breaking of God into human history in a way that surprised and so rewarded us with the gift of God's grace, God's abundant love, God's renewed covenant of his call to his people to know him... So many gifts, in fact, that we celebrate that story with an event rooted in generosity - the season of Christmas that is the reward at the end of the Advent journey -- that is the cookie that comes after the inspiration, the preparation, the waiting and the moment of joy at its fruition.
But ,remember the Christmas we have noted, comes at the end of Advent, it comes after a season of preparation, of getting ourselves, our families, our homes, our hearts, our lives ready of the in-breaking of Christ. In the Gospel today, we receive a glimpse of apocalyptic storytelling - from Mark we hear Jesus, speaking of preparedness for the end times - the time when the Lord will break into our human story once again, the time when judgement will come, the judgement described in last week's Gospel, the separation of the sheep from the goats, the judgment of how we spent our lives, our hearts, our generosity on those whom Jesus called his sheep, his children, himself as the one in need being served.
In this week's Gospel, we hear the instruction - keep alert, keep awake, for you do not know when the master will return and truly we continue to be on call, on the line, on watch for that moment, and in the meantime we are about the business of being God's people in the world.
This Advent, this season of preparation, I call on you to consider how you are preparing for the feast of thanksgiving and celebration of Christ's entry into the world. How will your celebration honor and reflect the gifts that God has given us? The gifts of grace, love, healing, hope, reconciliation, resurrection? Will your time be sent waiting in line to get the best price on a new digital camera, or will you consider new ways to reflect the generosity you are capable of? Will you find the opportunity to give thanks to those you care the most about in a way that is meaningful, hope-filled, and allows you to see Christ in others, and other to see Christ in you? Or will you say it with a gift card?
The season of Advent is not a stressful countdown to the great disappointment that your tight budget and empty wallet has to offer to you, but a reminder to walk toward the gift of Christ's presence in the world, with humility, honor, hope, love, and a desire to be a part of making God's gifts of peace and reconciliation possible in this world, today. The season of Advent puts us in the practice of bringing together the elements that, when stirred together in a bowl, placed in the oven and allowed to bake and to become, ultimately results in a creation we too played a hand in, and is much more satisfying than the one that can be bought in a store.
Let this Advent slow you down, allow you to consider how you want to be a part of God's generosity, and set your gaze beyond the relief of December 26, and toward the invitation to be awake and ready for God's next in-breaking into our story. Amen.
Sunday, November 27, 2011
Monday, October 11, 2010
Proper 23, Year C, RCL
Jeremiah 29:1, 4-7
Psalm 66:1-11
2 Timothy 2:8-15
Luke 17:11-19
Diseased. Outcast. There is something terribly wrong with them. So wrong that they may not be in community with everyone else. Their only refuge? The mercy, alms, and cast-offs of passersby who take pity on their pathetic lot in life.
They groan and sigh, and hunger, and wait, together. They are isolated from the ability to support themselves and their family, from the ability to worship in the temple, from the opportunity to eat the food they desire – available only in places they may not go. They are victims of their own society’s prejudice against them, and they have no recourse.
Though the nuances are subtly different, the same experience of isolation from community exists in our contemporary context. Children and high school students struggle with social labels that result in extreme bullying. Young adults experience it as they transition from the educational environment into the work force. Single adults face it as they intermingle in coupled social circles. Family bread winners struggle with it when employment status changes and the implications of an unplanned early retirement or a job search at a later stage in life than expected. Family members experience this as they or a loved one faces a major health issue limiting energy, and opportunity for social interaction.
At some point everyone feels the impact of isolation, of separation from the “pack.” Everyone feels alone in their struggle and their own pain. At some point everyone thinks, “You don’t know how I feel.” Many of us grow in the experience of coping with the pain, and manage to not only survive, but even let go of or escape the things that cause the pain. Some, however, experience this isolation to the point of no return – with no hope for what lies beyond the struggle of today, having no skills, or adequate coping methods, they shut down entirely – completing their isolation, and the opportunity for recovery, giving up on the possibility of healing. Lately we have been surrounded by stories of the loss of life resulting from this kind of personal isolation, exacerbated by stories of intentional targeting of those in pain.
I’m speaking to you of course about the number of young people who have taken their own lives as a final resort to escape the constant pain caused by the bullying of their peers regarding their perceived (whether claimed or not) sexual orientation. These young people, were scared, struggling, targeted, abused, and in need of community -- just like all of us. Just like the lepers Jesus saw as he walked toward Jerusalem.
Jesus saw the need, a need that was apparent to anyone who walked by these lepers every single day. He saw their isolation, their affliction, he saw their need and he responded to it. He didn’t ignore it. He didn’t walk by. He didn’t leave it to someone else. He put an end to their isolation by healing that which separated them out from the community that rejected them. And he sent them on their way to receive permission to return to society.
The isolation that we are familiar with, that we struggle with ourselves, or that is taking place in the world around us is not always so obvious, nor is the gap between hurt and healing so easily bridged. We can’t wave our hands and make that which separates us from one another disappear. But there are some things we can do. There are some steps we can take. There are some bridges we can build, together, over time.
We can start by begin honest with one another. There are things we do not agree on. There are thoughtful reasons on every side of every issue, and we simply do not, and cannot and will not always agree on everything.
But it is not adequate to avoid the conversation. We have to talk about it. We have to be willing to face the things that are hurting us together. Violence hurts us. Violence that is committed in word and deed – in things done, and things left undone. When a child is tormented day in and day out – it hurts us. When a child feels that it is okay to torment another day in and day out – they do this because they learned it somewhere. It is not adequate to say children are cruel. Adults are cruel. Adults constantly criticize and attack and communicate with violent words and actions shouting over blue lines and red lines, shouting from pulpits, and press conferences. Where do children learn these attitudes and behaviors that belittle and dehumanize and demean? They learn it from us. They learn it from they way we talk at our dinner tables and in public forums about those who are other – those who are not worthy, those who have something so wrong with them they should be cast out, and left alone to die of the disease they are afflicted with.
My job here is to preach the Gospel. To point to the hope that we share in the resurrection of Jesus Christ – that what he taught, and called on us to live by and to pass on were the deepest truths about how we might come to know God, and to know his love for us. One thing I know for certain – the Jesus we receive through the Gospel believed in community. Believed that no one should be left out of community. Believed there should be none who are outcast
We are not called to agree with one another. We are called to be in community with one another. To allow ourselves to learn from one another. To listen to one another and to speak honestly with one another. We must look at that which ails us, and we must respond. What ails us today is not the fact that there are people in the world who identify themselves as Gay/Lesbian/Bisexual/and Transgendered. What ails us is the fact that to admit, with vulnerability, this truth in the world is to place a target on ones head. What harms us, is not just the horror of the violence that is being done through verbal assault, physical abuse, and much worse, but the fact that there are people who are so desperately in need of something that they resort to these deathly measures. What they need – what they all need – those being harmed, and those committing the acts of violence – is community – a place where they belong, where they are heard, and where they have the opportunity to learn from those around them.
We live in a complex time and a complex place. There are so many different experiences and values and stories and teachings that shape who we are as individuals. In the Gospel this morning 10 people afflicted with disease are healed. The term leper here is a general term, one that does not necessarily refer only to a person with leprosy. 10 suffered from something, possibly 10 different ailments. And 10 were healed, and quite possibly responded with 10 different responses – only one of which was to turn and give thanks and praise to God. But it didn’t matter. Each was seen, each was in need, and each was healed, regardless of how they responded. Each was given the gift of being returned to community.
On this day, in the wake of the pain and suffering that has been inflicted on us, and on those who are so isolated, violence against themselves and this world is their only cause of action – let us pray, let us see, and let us respond to those in need of healing.
Don’t move on. Don’t ignore. Face one another. Listen. Learn. And may our faith, in the Lord Jesus Christ make us well. Amen.
Delivered Sunday, October 10, 2011
The Episcopal Church of Our Saviour
Psalm 66:1-11
2 Timothy 2:8-15
Luke 17:11-19
Diseased. Outcast. There is something terribly wrong with them. So wrong that they may not be in community with everyone else. Their only refuge? The mercy, alms, and cast-offs of passersby who take pity on their pathetic lot in life.
They groan and sigh, and hunger, and wait, together. They are isolated from the ability to support themselves and their family, from the ability to worship in the temple, from the opportunity to eat the food they desire – available only in places they may not go. They are victims of their own society’s prejudice against them, and they have no recourse.
Though the nuances are subtly different, the same experience of isolation from community exists in our contemporary context. Children and high school students struggle with social labels that result in extreme bullying. Young adults experience it as they transition from the educational environment into the work force. Single adults face it as they intermingle in coupled social circles. Family bread winners struggle with it when employment status changes and the implications of an unplanned early retirement or a job search at a later stage in life than expected. Family members experience this as they or a loved one faces a major health issue limiting energy, and opportunity for social interaction.
At some point everyone feels the impact of isolation, of separation from the “pack.” Everyone feels alone in their struggle and their own pain. At some point everyone thinks, “You don’t know how I feel.” Many of us grow in the experience of coping with the pain, and manage to not only survive, but even let go of or escape the things that cause the pain. Some, however, experience this isolation to the point of no return – with no hope for what lies beyond the struggle of today, having no skills, or adequate coping methods, they shut down entirely – completing their isolation, and the opportunity for recovery, giving up on the possibility of healing. Lately we have been surrounded by stories of the loss of life resulting from this kind of personal isolation, exacerbated by stories of intentional targeting of those in pain.
I’m speaking to you of course about the number of young people who have taken their own lives as a final resort to escape the constant pain caused by the bullying of their peers regarding their perceived (whether claimed or not) sexual orientation. These young people, were scared, struggling, targeted, abused, and in need of community -- just like all of us. Just like the lepers Jesus saw as he walked toward Jerusalem.
Jesus saw the need, a need that was apparent to anyone who walked by these lepers every single day. He saw their isolation, their affliction, he saw their need and he responded to it. He didn’t ignore it. He didn’t walk by. He didn’t leave it to someone else. He put an end to their isolation by healing that which separated them out from the community that rejected them. And he sent them on their way to receive permission to return to society.
The isolation that we are familiar with, that we struggle with ourselves, or that is taking place in the world around us is not always so obvious, nor is the gap between hurt and healing so easily bridged. We can’t wave our hands and make that which separates us from one another disappear. But there are some things we can do. There are some steps we can take. There are some bridges we can build, together, over time.
We can start by begin honest with one another. There are things we do not agree on. There are thoughtful reasons on every side of every issue, and we simply do not, and cannot and will not always agree on everything.
But it is not adequate to avoid the conversation. We have to talk about it. We have to be willing to face the things that are hurting us together. Violence hurts us. Violence that is committed in word and deed – in things done, and things left undone. When a child is tormented day in and day out – it hurts us. When a child feels that it is okay to torment another day in and day out – they do this because they learned it somewhere. It is not adequate to say children are cruel. Adults are cruel. Adults constantly criticize and attack and communicate with violent words and actions shouting over blue lines and red lines, shouting from pulpits, and press conferences. Where do children learn these attitudes and behaviors that belittle and dehumanize and demean? They learn it from us. They learn it from they way we talk at our dinner tables and in public forums about those who are other – those who are not worthy, those who have something so wrong with them they should be cast out, and left alone to die of the disease they are afflicted with.
My job here is to preach the Gospel. To point to the hope that we share in the resurrection of Jesus Christ – that what he taught, and called on us to live by and to pass on were the deepest truths about how we might come to know God, and to know his love for us. One thing I know for certain – the Jesus we receive through the Gospel believed in community. Believed that no one should be left out of community. Believed there should be none who are outcast
We are not called to agree with one another. We are called to be in community with one another. To allow ourselves to learn from one another. To listen to one another and to speak honestly with one another. We must look at that which ails us, and we must respond. What ails us today is not the fact that there are people in the world who identify themselves as Gay/Lesbian/Bisexual/and Transgendered. What ails us is the fact that to admit, with vulnerability, this truth in the world is to place a target on ones head. What harms us, is not just the horror of the violence that is being done through verbal assault, physical abuse, and much worse, but the fact that there are people who are so desperately in need of something that they resort to these deathly measures. What they need – what they all need – those being harmed, and those committing the acts of violence – is community – a place where they belong, where they are heard, and where they have the opportunity to learn from those around them.
We live in a complex time and a complex place. There are so many different experiences and values and stories and teachings that shape who we are as individuals. In the Gospel this morning 10 people afflicted with disease are healed. The term leper here is a general term, one that does not necessarily refer only to a person with leprosy. 10 suffered from something, possibly 10 different ailments. And 10 were healed, and quite possibly responded with 10 different responses – only one of which was to turn and give thanks and praise to God. But it didn’t matter. Each was seen, each was in need, and each was healed, regardless of how they responded. Each was given the gift of being returned to community.
On this day, in the wake of the pain and suffering that has been inflicted on us, and on those who are so isolated, violence against themselves and this world is their only cause of action – let us pray, let us see, and let us respond to those in need of healing.
Don’t move on. Don’t ignore. Face one another. Listen. Learn. And may our faith, in the Lord Jesus Christ make us well. Amen.
Delivered Sunday, October 10, 2011
The Episcopal Church of Our Saviour
Monday, May 3, 2010
5 Easter, Year C, RCL
Acts 11:1-18
Psalm 148
Revelation 21:1-6
John 13:31-35
Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.
It’s been a while since I’ve been here in the pulpit on a Sunday morning! There have been Cinnamon Roll breakfasts with Youth Mission Sundays, Holy Week events, a trip to Washington D.C. with our Senior High Youth Group, and most recently I have returned from a Jr. High Spring Retreat called New Beginnings: an event that gathers youth leaders and participants from around the diocese for a weekend of conversation about Jesus, about where and how their faith life is practiced in their day-to-day life, and how they might show and share the gifts of faith, hope and love with their friends and family.
New Beginnings is a place where young people age 11-14 are challenged to take a fresh look at the things they have learned as children and think about them in a new way – the way that an adolescent ought to explore them – with questions, with curiosity, with friends, with songs, with the voices of fellow young people who are also asking questions, and naming convictions of the truth that Jesus is the Lord of Love, the Prince of Peace.
When you think about spending time with 90 Middle School aged youth – you probably think of gawky bodies, boys yeh high and girls yeh high, gossip and drama, gross jokes and grosser smells. Add in a fairly rainy weekend this time around, and my guess is you wouldn’t be looking forward to it.
But the thing that is amazing to me about these youth events, and it happens every time – the young people who lead them are motivated by the positive experience they have had in that place before, and they want share that with the young people who are gathered, this time around. And those youth leaders, in their words, and actions, express that love in their small groups, in the skits they put on, in the talks they give, and in the way that during the Saturday night talent show where everyone cheers and cheers for every single person or group that is willing to stand before the community and offer their talent, their vulnerable self, really, to the community. They cheered equally for an air band as they did for an ensemble of musicians who put together an impromptu performance incorporating clarinets, box drums, guitars, violin and saxophone. They cheered for the young man who sang along to a popular radio song and for another young man who was so nervous he could barely get his impression of Darth Vadar out – that’s right: “Luke, I am your father,” is apparently a talent
The thing that these Middle School Youth model, and do so well, so much better than adults is that same pronouncement that Jesus made to his disciples in our Gospel text this morning.
Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.
Middle schoolers who are going through so many changes, physically, emotionally, socially, young people who are anxious about the adolescent community – will they accept me? Will I have a place to sit at lunch tomorrow? Will I ever get to the illustrious goal of being a teenager and the ultimate freedom – a driver’s license? For one weekend, these young people who are in the midst of so much change and inner and social turmoil, come to a place where everyone is welcomed like an old friend. A place where everyone is invited to share what they are thinking in their own words. A place where the joys and the struggles of being a Christian, whether a baby baptized or someone new to the whole church thing – all of this is shared, is honored, is recognized as having value, and is made clear that we would not have been whole without their presence with us.
Just imagine if every time you came to your church community – you had that feeling. The feeling of being a place where you were valued, not because of your paycheck, or your home value, or your activity as a citizen, but simply because we would not be whole without you being here.
Jesus was no fool. We human beings come in as many varieties of personality, culture, flavor, style as there are stars in the universe. We are bound to disagree. We are bound to have struggles with one another – and sadly we sometimes allow those struggles to lead us to build walls around ourselves, to work very hard to separate us from them – to be a people that sanctify our identity over our communal life – we are American individualists, after all, we enjoy the gift of the freedom of self expression. Jesus knew that his disciples would not always be on the same page, they would not always agree, they would not always desire to work together, to listen to one another… But, he makes it very clear, that at the root of our relationship with Christ, and therefore our relationship with one another must always be love. Not fear. Not walls. Not personal gain. But love. Love for one another that attempts to reflect the slightest glimmer of the brilliant spotlight that is God’s love for us.
At New Beginnings the way that we show this to one another is with a special little something called a Warm Fuzzy. A Warm Fuzzy is a symbol of the love that belongs to each one of us as a result of God’s love for us. It is made to be given away. Without being given away it becomes cold and shrivels up and turns into a cold prickly, as the story goes. At the closing Eucharist of New Beginnings, youth turn to one another and offer a warm fuzzy saying this is a warm fuzzy and it means I love you. They don’t just offer one to the person on their left or right. They move about passing fuzzies and hugs to people they have met, gotten to know, and have learned they are free to share in the love that has been shown to them and that they too want to pass on.
As our community attempts to follow the command that Jesus gave his disciples, love one another as I have loved you, may we be followers of the example shown to us by our youth. May we welcome one another, and welcome the stranger. May we seek to listen to one another, honoring our differences. May we be so drawn to the center of Christ’s love that we seek others with whom to share that love, with all our hearts, and hugs, and warm fuzzies. Amen.
Delivered: Sunday, May 2, 2010
The Episcopal Church of Our Saviour, Rock Hill, SC
Psalm 148
Revelation 21:1-6
John 13:31-35
Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.
It’s been a while since I’ve been here in the pulpit on a Sunday morning! There have been Cinnamon Roll breakfasts with Youth Mission Sundays, Holy Week events, a trip to Washington D.C. with our Senior High Youth Group, and most recently I have returned from a Jr. High Spring Retreat called New Beginnings: an event that gathers youth leaders and participants from around the diocese for a weekend of conversation about Jesus, about where and how their faith life is practiced in their day-to-day life, and how they might show and share the gifts of faith, hope and love with their friends and family.
New Beginnings is a place where young people age 11-14 are challenged to take a fresh look at the things they have learned as children and think about them in a new way – the way that an adolescent ought to explore them – with questions, with curiosity, with friends, with songs, with the voices of fellow young people who are also asking questions, and naming convictions of the truth that Jesus is the Lord of Love, the Prince of Peace.
When you think about spending time with 90 Middle School aged youth – you probably think of gawky bodies, boys yeh high and girls yeh high, gossip and drama, gross jokes and grosser smells. Add in a fairly rainy weekend this time around, and my guess is you wouldn’t be looking forward to it.
But the thing that is amazing to me about these youth events, and it happens every time – the young people who lead them are motivated by the positive experience they have had in that place before, and they want share that with the young people who are gathered, this time around. And those youth leaders, in their words, and actions, express that love in their small groups, in the skits they put on, in the talks they give, and in the way that during the Saturday night talent show where everyone cheers and cheers for every single person or group that is willing to stand before the community and offer their talent, their vulnerable self, really, to the community. They cheered equally for an air band as they did for an ensemble of musicians who put together an impromptu performance incorporating clarinets, box drums, guitars, violin and saxophone. They cheered for the young man who sang along to a popular radio song and for another young man who was so nervous he could barely get his impression of Darth Vadar out – that’s right: “Luke, I am your father,” is apparently a talent
The thing that these Middle School Youth model, and do so well, so much better than adults is that same pronouncement that Jesus made to his disciples in our Gospel text this morning.
Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.
Middle schoolers who are going through so many changes, physically, emotionally, socially, young people who are anxious about the adolescent community – will they accept me? Will I have a place to sit at lunch tomorrow? Will I ever get to the illustrious goal of being a teenager and the ultimate freedom – a driver’s license? For one weekend, these young people who are in the midst of so much change and inner and social turmoil, come to a place where everyone is welcomed like an old friend. A place where everyone is invited to share what they are thinking in their own words. A place where the joys and the struggles of being a Christian, whether a baby baptized or someone new to the whole church thing – all of this is shared, is honored, is recognized as having value, and is made clear that we would not have been whole without their presence with us.
Just imagine if every time you came to your church community – you had that feeling. The feeling of being a place where you were valued, not because of your paycheck, or your home value, or your activity as a citizen, but simply because we would not be whole without you being here.
Jesus was no fool. We human beings come in as many varieties of personality, culture, flavor, style as there are stars in the universe. We are bound to disagree. We are bound to have struggles with one another – and sadly we sometimes allow those struggles to lead us to build walls around ourselves, to work very hard to separate us from them – to be a people that sanctify our identity over our communal life – we are American individualists, after all, we enjoy the gift of the freedom of self expression. Jesus knew that his disciples would not always be on the same page, they would not always agree, they would not always desire to work together, to listen to one another… But, he makes it very clear, that at the root of our relationship with Christ, and therefore our relationship with one another must always be love. Not fear. Not walls. Not personal gain. But love. Love for one another that attempts to reflect the slightest glimmer of the brilliant spotlight that is God’s love for us.
At New Beginnings the way that we show this to one another is with a special little something called a Warm Fuzzy. A Warm Fuzzy is a symbol of the love that belongs to each one of us as a result of God’s love for us. It is made to be given away. Without being given away it becomes cold and shrivels up and turns into a cold prickly, as the story goes. At the closing Eucharist of New Beginnings, youth turn to one another and offer a warm fuzzy saying this is a warm fuzzy and it means I love you. They don’t just offer one to the person on their left or right. They move about passing fuzzies and hugs to people they have met, gotten to know, and have learned they are free to share in the love that has been shown to them and that they too want to pass on.
As our community attempts to follow the command that Jesus gave his disciples, love one another as I have loved you, may we be followers of the example shown to us by our youth. May we welcome one another, and welcome the stranger. May we seek to listen to one another, honoring our differences. May we be so drawn to the center of Christ’s love that we seek others with whom to share that love, with all our hearts, and hugs, and warm fuzzies. Amen.
Delivered: Sunday, May 2, 2010
The Episcopal Church of Our Saviour, Rock Hill, SC
Tuesday, November 10, 2009
Proper 27, Year B, RCL
Delivered by The Rev. Mary Cat Young
November 8, 2009
The Episcopal Church of Our Saviour
Ruth 3:1-5; 4:13-17
Psalm 127
Hebrews 9:24-28
Mark 12:38-44
Before I begin, let me share with you a quick story about how this little item came into my possession. During my seminary days I lived right next to Harvard Square in Cambridge, Massachusetts. One night, while on a walk with a friend we were standing on a street corner talking about NPR’s show Car Talk (Cah Tawlk). A man overheard us and mentioned that the studio they broadcast from was across the hall from his business, along with the law offices of “Dewey, Cheatem and Howe.” My companion and I laughed and accepted his invitation to come up and see the doors to the studio.
As we walked up the stairs he asked us about ourselves. When he heard that I was a seminarian he said, “I’d like to give you something.” The man shared with us that he was Jewish and his business was dealing in rare coins and collectibles. He gave me this little square coin holder which holds a “Widow’s Mite,” a small copper coin dated from the time of Herodias Antipas, and thus the kind of coin like the one’s spoken of in our Gospel story this morning. He wanted me to have it, and though I tried to refuse, his gift of kindness to me was of greater value him than the coin itself. It was a friendly gesture – and one that cost him very little, but showed his genuine desire for the coin to serve a purpose of goodness in my future work. And that is how this widow’s mite came into my possession.
To see it, is to see what nothing looks like. The insignificance of a coin such as the one the widow gave is obvious when you have it in your hand. Less than a penny was the value, and yet to a woman of her time and place, a woman who had no regular means of income, no one’s protection, no one to fend for her in the world, this little nothing was literally everything.
The faith she invested in this coin, and the way that she used it is commendable. She knew that giving to the temple was a means of participating in the relationship she had with God – participating in the ritual, not only with her prayers, but with what little she had in her pockets.
The tragedy here is that as Jesus watched her do this, he lamented that her giving was to a corrupt house that would not return the care to her that she so desperately needed. He saw the giving of her heart, and yet wept at the injustice that she would not properly be cared for in the way she deserved. Jesus pointed to a flawed system that allowed its most vulnerable member give all that she had in the name of God. He knew that she would not reap the benefits of the care that she deserved after literally giving her life away with a contribution that was worth practically nothing. But it was hers to give, and she gave it willingly.
The converse image is shown to us as well; that of the boasting, flashy, prideful giver – a leader in the synagogue, well dressed, well statured, and making it well known that their giving was worthy of notice. And yet, despite the monetary value of the giving of the rich, that which is given out of arrogance is less valuable than the gift of the widow’s mite.
When considering what we have to offer, what we can afford to give, and who we should share our resources and financial gifts with, the question: “How much is enough?” is often posed. We live in tough economic times. Pensions that were invested in the stock-market have been reduced. Job security is questionable on a day-to-day basis in some fields. College educations are to be funded, mortgage payments to be kept up, and health expenses to be paid or prepared for. Everyone is at risk. Everyone is vulnerable. And despite the fine clothing, and the privilege of climate-controlled home environments, we all feel as though we have more in common with the widow than the scribe described in the story. “Enough” is a question that comes out of a place of scarcity, a place of fear. What is the acceptable offering? What can I do to fulfill my obligation and be done with it?
“Enough” does not encompass the abundant gift of giving with love. Truly, the greatest difference between the widow and scribe is the fact that what she gave was not only a monetary gift, but one of faith, a gift of the heart. Her own well-being, her own necessity for simple things were not at stake – because for her, she was giving her love.
The same was true of the man who gave me the gift of the widow’s mite. Surely some monetary value is attached to this tiny little piece of nothing, certainly more now than when it was currency in its own time and place. But the value of sharing a conversation with others on a lonely night, the value of knowing that this would be put to use by someone to whom it did matter, the value of doing a Mitzvah, or a simple act of human kindness was worth more to this man in the simple act of giving it away than any cash value he might receive upon achieving a bill of sale.
As you open yourself to the season of discernment that is inevitable at this time in the church year – the time of contemplating how your gifts, how your time, how your talent might be given to participate in the needs of others, the needs of this community and the needs of the world, I remind you of the importance of allowing your heart to enter the process. What and how you give of yourself does not rely on the question of “how much is enough.” Because when your heart is in it, the abundance and generosity of the spirit within you allows you to do amazing things.
Certainly there are the real life, hard numbers that need to happen in terms of the upkeep and maintenance of the building where we gather – but our life together, our community of care for one another, the sense of commitment to one another that makes us want to give a helping hand in the garden, to volunteer with the youth activities, to host a family of promise dinner, to be in conversation through Sunday school classes, and to face the needs of the poor who are not only just outside our doors, but in our Garth, and in our parish hall, and in the presence of our community, these are the ways that this building calls our hearts and hands and our financial resources in to action – into the business of building the kingdom of God right here, and right now. These things are priceless.
Just as Christ’s giving of himself for us, even to the point of death on the cross… his gift for the world was of a value that meant nothing to him – he was God – he could die a thousand times and it would not mean anything because of the power he possessed to overcome death. And yet, the gift that it was for us, the gift of the promise of eternal life, the gift of redemption from our sins, that no matter who we are or how we struggle with this life, there is a love and forgiveness and resurrection that belongs to us through Jesus Christ, that gift to us is priceless. How much is enough? Is this the community where you choose to invest yourself, where you invest your children and families, where you give your heart away to those who, without you would not be cared for? If you give your whole heart, then you’ve just begun. For “where your heart is, there will your treasure be also.” (Matthew 6:21 author paraphrase) Amen.
November 8, 2009
The Episcopal Church of Our Saviour
Ruth 3:1-5; 4:13-17
Psalm 127
Hebrews 9:24-28
Mark 12:38-44
Before I begin, let me share with you a quick story about how this little item came into my possession. During my seminary days I lived right next to Harvard Square in Cambridge, Massachusetts. One night, while on a walk with a friend we were standing on a street corner talking about NPR’s show Car Talk (Cah Tawlk). A man overheard us and mentioned that the studio they broadcast from was across the hall from his business, along with the law offices of “Dewey, Cheatem and Howe.” My companion and I laughed and accepted his invitation to come up and see the doors to the studio.
As we walked up the stairs he asked us about ourselves. When he heard that I was a seminarian he said, “I’d like to give you something.” The man shared with us that he was Jewish and his business was dealing in rare coins and collectibles. He gave me this little square coin holder which holds a “Widow’s Mite,” a small copper coin dated from the time of Herodias Antipas, and thus the kind of coin like the one’s spoken of in our Gospel story this morning. He wanted me to have it, and though I tried to refuse, his gift of kindness to me was of greater value him than the coin itself. It was a friendly gesture – and one that cost him very little, but showed his genuine desire for the coin to serve a purpose of goodness in my future work. And that is how this widow’s mite came into my possession.
To see it, is to see what nothing looks like. The insignificance of a coin such as the one the widow gave is obvious when you have it in your hand. Less than a penny was the value, and yet to a woman of her time and place, a woman who had no regular means of income, no one’s protection, no one to fend for her in the world, this little nothing was literally everything.
The faith she invested in this coin, and the way that she used it is commendable. She knew that giving to the temple was a means of participating in the relationship she had with God – participating in the ritual, not only with her prayers, but with what little she had in her pockets.
The tragedy here is that as Jesus watched her do this, he lamented that her giving was to a corrupt house that would not return the care to her that she so desperately needed. He saw the giving of her heart, and yet wept at the injustice that she would not properly be cared for in the way she deserved. Jesus pointed to a flawed system that allowed its most vulnerable member give all that she had in the name of God. He knew that she would not reap the benefits of the care that she deserved after literally giving her life away with a contribution that was worth practically nothing. But it was hers to give, and she gave it willingly.
The converse image is shown to us as well; that of the boasting, flashy, prideful giver – a leader in the synagogue, well dressed, well statured, and making it well known that their giving was worthy of notice. And yet, despite the monetary value of the giving of the rich, that which is given out of arrogance is less valuable than the gift of the widow’s mite.
When considering what we have to offer, what we can afford to give, and who we should share our resources and financial gifts with, the question: “How much is enough?” is often posed. We live in tough economic times. Pensions that were invested in the stock-market have been reduced. Job security is questionable on a day-to-day basis in some fields. College educations are to be funded, mortgage payments to be kept up, and health expenses to be paid or prepared for. Everyone is at risk. Everyone is vulnerable. And despite the fine clothing, and the privilege of climate-controlled home environments, we all feel as though we have more in common with the widow than the scribe described in the story. “Enough” is a question that comes out of a place of scarcity, a place of fear. What is the acceptable offering? What can I do to fulfill my obligation and be done with it?
“Enough” does not encompass the abundant gift of giving with love. Truly, the greatest difference between the widow and scribe is the fact that what she gave was not only a monetary gift, but one of faith, a gift of the heart. Her own well-being, her own necessity for simple things were not at stake – because for her, she was giving her love.
The same was true of the man who gave me the gift of the widow’s mite. Surely some monetary value is attached to this tiny little piece of nothing, certainly more now than when it was currency in its own time and place. But the value of sharing a conversation with others on a lonely night, the value of knowing that this would be put to use by someone to whom it did matter, the value of doing a Mitzvah, or a simple act of human kindness was worth more to this man in the simple act of giving it away than any cash value he might receive upon achieving a bill of sale.
As you open yourself to the season of discernment that is inevitable at this time in the church year – the time of contemplating how your gifts, how your time, how your talent might be given to participate in the needs of others, the needs of this community and the needs of the world, I remind you of the importance of allowing your heart to enter the process. What and how you give of yourself does not rely on the question of “how much is enough.” Because when your heart is in it, the abundance and generosity of the spirit within you allows you to do amazing things.
Certainly there are the real life, hard numbers that need to happen in terms of the upkeep and maintenance of the building where we gather – but our life together, our community of care for one another, the sense of commitment to one another that makes us want to give a helping hand in the garden, to volunteer with the youth activities, to host a family of promise dinner, to be in conversation through Sunday school classes, and to face the needs of the poor who are not only just outside our doors, but in our Garth, and in our parish hall, and in the presence of our community, these are the ways that this building calls our hearts and hands and our financial resources in to action – into the business of building the kingdom of God right here, and right now. These things are priceless.
Just as Christ’s giving of himself for us, even to the point of death on the cross… his gift for the world was of a value that meant nothing to him – he was God – he could die a thousand times and it would not mean anything because of the power he possessed to overcome death. And yet, the gift that it was for us, the gift of the promise of eternal life, the gift of redemption from our sins, that no matter who we are or how we struggle with this life, there is a love and forgiveness and resurrection that belongs to us through Jesus Christ, that gift to us is priceless. How much is enough? Is this the community where you choose to invest yourself, where you invest your children and families, where you give your heart away to those who, without you would not be cared for? If you give your whole heart, then you’ve just begun. For “where your heart is, there will your treasure be also.” (Matthew 6:21 author paraphrase) Amen.
Proper 23, Year B, RCL
Amos 5:6-7, 10-15
Psalm 90:12-17
Hebrews 4:12-16
Mark 10:17-31
The Bible is a funny thing. Though we receive it in our contemporary context as one volume that can easily be accessed, carried around, handled like any other book, we often overlook the fact that rather than it being one book, it is a library of texts. A collection of over 70 history books, letters, gospels, wisdom sayings, songs, poems, law references and stories written by as many or more authors, not to mention editors, redactors, translators, and the number of hands that adjusted, corrected and enhanced the words delivered to us, collected and formatted into one cozy little volume.
In other words, the writings that we listen to, the words we remind ourselves of, the saying and stories that we hear when we gather as a community to learn together, have come a long way to get into our hands, and to be heard by our ears.
William Tyndale, a determined protestant reformer and minister of the 16th Century made it the focus of his life to ensure that English speaking Christians gained access to the privilege of hearing scripture spoken in their language. His work to directly translate the Old and New Testaments from their Hebrew and Greek written forms were directly opposed by authorities of Roman Catholicism and the Royal Court. His commitment to this cause allowed him to be responsible for writing almost 90% of the King James Version of the Bible. Tyndale is attributed with coining the phrases: “let there be light,” “my brother’s keeper,” “salt of the earth,” and “fight the good fight” to name a few. This week we remembered William Tyndale on October 6, the anniversary of his death nearly 500 years ago.
There is no record of why Tyndale was so committed to translating scripture – but it is clear from his life’s story that he would not rest, and did not allow the danger of this business to keep him from accomplishing this task, even though it cost him his life. Perhaps he was a poetic writer and enjoyed the challenge. Perhaps he was a lover of the church and of the Word, and recognized the challenge and the promise that lay within the texts he devoted his life to. Perhaps he simply believed that the message found in scripture again and again that the law of love is truly the greatest commandment should be spoken to men and women on the street in their own language, so that those who needed to hear that message most could do so and understand immediately.
Regardless of his motivations, William Tyndale’s work grants us access to the wisdom and the challenge that lies in our scripture readings each week. And it is our duty as faithful bearers of this library to take on the challenging task of wrestling with scripture – in our own lives and in our life as a community.
In seminary I had the opportunity to take a scripture course titled: Texts of Terror, named for a book of the same title that explores some of the hardest passages of the Bible. Stories of misogyny, of unjustifiable violence, of wrathful vengeance, and of Biblical teachings that may be difficult to consider, all that exist within the canon of the texts we hold sacred. So sacred in fact, that at the ordination of deacons, priests and the consecration of bishops, ordinands not only vow to devote themselves to the study of scripture, but also sign a commitment that states that we believe all things necessary for salvation are contained in holy scripture. When it came time for me to preach in that class, today’s Gospel was my chosen “text of terror.”
As a person who has benefitted from privileges being a middle class Caucasian raised in the Western world, I have had good reason to fear and disparage at the hearing of this text. After all, like the rich man, I have followed the commandments, I have committed myself to a faith life and practice that is devoted to proclaiming Jesus as my savior, and I too, have many possessions. Isn’t my faith enough? Isn’t my desire to follow enough? Isn’t it my right that I should enjoy the earnings that I have worked hard for, that I have given time and talent to produce, and thus collect my rightful compensation, and enjoy life in the here and now? Does the question sound familiar?
And yet here we have a Gospel text that says, not so fast.
You may lead a life that is good and righteous. You may not waste your sins on murder and slander. But if your own piety is solely devoted to the perfection of your own soul, if your desire to fulfill your own need to be faultless allows you ignore the obvious needs of those around you, then you have missed the point completely.
The rich man seeks to possess something he cannot buy – eternal life. Jesus looks with compassion upon the rich man. But he also speaks a hard truth to him. Those commandments that you live by, you do with ease. For you are in a position that allows you rise above those challenges. Your wealth allows a freedom and a privilege in the way you live your life that is only known to a small fraction of the community in which you live. And yet, that wealth is not a means of grace. It is not a means of receiving the immeasurable gift of the assurance of God’s love for you for all time. In fact, if that material wealth is what provides your only sense of self-value and your only means of judging your position in the world, then it will actually hinder you from the ability to receive the grace of God. If you wish to follow me, if you wish to uphold my teaching, then you should not allow yourself to be bound by your belongings. To be possessed by your possessions. Let them go, and let yourself understand what it is to live like those who live only by the grace of God and by the kindness of their community. When you are ready to do this, you will be in a position to understand and receive eternal life.
The rich man was discouraged by this, and rightfully so. After all, sacrifice is not about giving offerings that mean nothing to you. There is no challenge in that. The challenge for the wealthy is the opportunity to let go of some privilege, some of the freedom that wealth provides, so that others might benefit from it – those who would have no way of experiencing certain freedoms, like the living without fear of the next medical bill that will arrive in the mail, or the inability to cover the cost to educate your child so that they might have opportunities that you did not. I wonder if the rich young man was being challenged to experience the world in a new way, so that he might gain a deeper understanding of the capacity of kindness he could offer his community as a result of his position of wealth.
I wonder if he didn’t leave Jesus’ side and consider how he might change the way he used his riches in the world around him. I wonder if he allowed Jesus’ words to enter in – or if it was similar to the difficulty of allowing a camel through the eye of a needle.
It’s a funny thing scripture, there is not just one mention of a rich young man. There are other stories in the old and new testament of rich men using their wealth unjustly – to seek power over others, to allow their privilege to supersede that of poor men under their care – to take unfair advantage of the position of power that their wealth granted them in the here and now. And there are wisdom sayings and psalms, warning the rich man to make right choices with their treasure, for despite their power and privilege today, they will perish and those riches will not travel with them. This is not a new message, but it is a challenge that scripture poses to us today.
In our contemporary context, most of us live in relative comfort, some more than others, but generally speaking, we live with the security of income, comfortable housing, and access to discretionary spending – that is, income that does not go to providing food, shelter and basic necessities. How we, as wielders of discretionary spending choose to use our wealth – where we choose to live and the lifestyle we choose to pursue all play into this challenge posed by Jesus.
How will you allow these words of scripture, this challenging story of Jesus and the rich young man to enter in as you consider the wealth, and its power and privilege that is at your fingertips? Does this story pose itself as a text of terror for you? Do you find yourself wondering how a camel makes its way through the eye of a needle?
As we give thanks for the access that we have for scripture in our lives, we must also take up the challenges it poses. We must also accept the responsibility that we have received as hearers of the word – as ones who wish to follow, but must do so with the burden of wealth and privilege that our contemporary society provides.
When last I preached on this text I was weighed down by many possessions. Things that surrounded me, but had little purpose, nor provided insight into the life I was being called to lead. Many things have changed for me, and though many of those possessions are gone, there are new ones that have found their way into my life and my home. With each return to this piece of scripture I must take up for myself the question that Jesus has for the rich young man. Upon hearing it today, I am reminded that Jesus loved the man, and then challenged him again. I call on you to know that Jesus loves you, and challenges you to consider these things today as well.
For Jesus said,
"Truly I tell you, there is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields, for my sake and for the sake of the good news, who will not receive a hundredfold now in this age--houses, brothers and sisters, mothers and children, and fields with persecutions--and in the age to come eternal life…” Amen.
Delivered by The Rev. Mary Catherine Young
October 11, 2009
The Episcopal Church of Our Saviour
Psalm 90:12-17
Hebrews 4:12-16
Mark 10:17-31
The Bible is a funny thing. Though we receive it in our contemporary context as one volume that can easily be accessed, carried around, handled like any other book, we often overlook the fact that rather than it being one book, it is a library of texts. A collection of over 70 history books, letters, gospels, wisdom sayings, songs, poems, law references and stories written by as many or more authors, not to mention editors, redactors, translators, and the number of hands that adjusted, corrected and enhanced the words delivered to us, collected and formatted into one cozy little volume.
In other words, the writings that we listen to, the words we remind ourselves of, the saying and stories that we hear when we gather as a community to learn together, have come a long way to get into our hands, and to be heard by our ears.
William Tyndale, a determined protestant reformer and minister of the 16th Century made it the focus of his life to ensure that English speaking Christians gained access to the privilege of hearing scripture spoken in their language. His work to directly translate the Old and New Testaments from their Hebrew and Greek written forms were directly opposed by authorities of Roman Catholicism and the Royal Court. His commitment to this cause allowed him to be responsible for writing almost 90% of the King James Version of the Bible. Tyndale is attributed with coining the phrases: “let there be light,” “my brother’s keeper,” “salt of the earth,” and “fight the good fight” to name a few. This week we remembered William Tyndale on October 6, the anniversary of his death nearly 500 years ago.
There is no record of why Tyndale was so committed to translating scripture – but it is clear from his life’s story that he would not rest, and did not allow the danger of this business to keep him from accomplishing this task, even though it cost him his life. Perhaps he was a poetic writer and enjoyed the challenge. Perhaps he was a lover of the church and of the Word, and recognized the challenge and the promise that lay within the texts he devoted his life to. Perhaps he simply believed that the message found in scripture again and again that the law of love is truly the greatest commandment should be spoken to men and women on the street in their own language, so that those who needed to hear that message most could do so and understand immediately.
Regardless of his motivations, William Tyndale’s work grants us access to the wisdom and the challenge that lies in our scripture readings each week. And it is our duty as faithful bearers of this library to take on the challenging task of wrestling with scripture – in our own lives and in our life as a community.
In seminary I had the opportunity to take a scripture course titled: Texts of Terror, named for a book of the same title that explores some of the hardest passages of the Bible. Stories of misogyny, of unjustifiable violence, of wrathful vengeance, and of Biblical teachings that may be difficult to consider, all that exist within the canon of the texts we hold sacred. So sacred in fact, that at the ordination of deacons, priests and the consecration of bishops, ordinands not only vow to devote themselves to the study of scripture, but also sign a commitment that states that we believe all things necessary for salvation are contained in holy scripture. When it came time for me to preach in that class, today’s Gospel was my chosen “text of terror.”
As a person who has benefitted from privileges being a middle class Caucasian raised in the Western world, I have had good reason to fear and disparage at the hearing of this text. After all, like the rich man, I have followed the commandments, I have committed myself to a faith life and practice that is devoted to proclaiming Jesus as my savior, and I too, have many possessions. Isn’t my faith enough? Isn’t my desire to follow enough? Isn’t it my right that I should enjoy the earnings that I have worked hard for, that I have given time and talent to produce, and thus collect my rightful compensation, and enjoy life in the here and now? Does the question sound familiar?
And yet here we have a Gospel text that says, not so fast.
You may lead a life that is good and righteous. You may not waste your sins on murder and slander. But if your own piety is solely devoted to the perfection of your own soul, if your desire to fulfill your own need to be faultless allows you ignore the obvious needs of those around you, then you have missed the point completely.
The rich man seeks to possess something he cannot buy – eternal life. Jesus looks with compassion upon the rich man. But he also speaks a hard truth to him. Those commandments that you live by, you do with ease. For you are in a position that allows you rise above those challenges. Your wealth allows a freedom and a privilege in the way you live your life that is only known to a small fraction of the community in which you live. And yet, that wealth is not a means of grace. It is not a means of receiving the immeasurable gift of the assurance of God’s love for you for all time. In fact, if that material wealth is what provides your only sense of self-value and your only means of judging your position in the world, then it will actually hinder you from the ability to receive the grace of God. If you wish to follow me, if you wish to uphold my teaching, then you should not allow yourself to be bound by your belongings. To be possessed by your possessions. Let them go, and let yourself understand what it is to live like those who live only by the grace of God and by the kindness of their community. When you are ready to do this, you will be in a position to understand and receive eternal life.
The rich man was discouraged by this, and rightfully so. After all, sacrifice is not about giving offerings that mean nothing to you. There is no challenge in that. The challenge for the wealthy is the opportunity to let go of some privilege, some of the freedom that wealth provides, so that others might benefit from it – those who would have no way of experiencing certain freedoms, like the living without fear of the next medical bill that will arrive in the mail, or the inability to cover the cost to educate your child so that they might have opportunities that you did not. I wonder if the rich young man was being challenged to experience the world in a new way, so that he might gain a deeper understanding of the capacity of kindness he could offer his community as a result of his position of wealth.
I wonder if he didn’t leave Jesus’ side and consider how he might change the way he used his riches in the world around him. I wonder if he allowed Jesus’ words to enter in – or if it was similar to the difficulty of allowing a camel through the eye of a needle.
It’s a funny thing scripture, there is not just one mention of a rich young man. There are other stories in the old and new testament of rich men using their wealth unjustly – to seek power over others, to allow their privilege to supersede that of poor men under their care – to take unfair advantage of the position of power that their wealth granted them in the here and now. And there are wisdom sayings and psalms, warning the rich man to make right choices with their treasure, for despite their power and privilege today, they will perish and those riches will not travel with them. This is not a new message, but it is a challenge that scripture poses to us today.
In our contemporary context, most of us live in relative comfort, some more than others, but generally speaking, we live with the security of income, comfortable housing, and access to discretionary spending – that is, income that does not go to providing food, shelter and basic necessities. How we, as wielders of discretionary spending choose to use our wealth – where we choose to live and the lifestyle we choose to pursue all play into this challenge posed by Jesus.
How will you allow these words of scripture, this challenging story of Jesus and the rich young man to enter in as you consider the wealth, and its power and privilege that is at your fingertips? Does this story pose itself as a text of terror for you? Do you find yourself wondering how a camel makes its way through the eye of a needle?
As we give thanks for the access that we have for scripture in our lives, we must also take up the challenges it poses. We must also accept the responsibility that we have received as hearers of the word – as ones who wish to follow, but must do so with the burden of wealth and privilege that our contemporary society provides.
When last I preached on this text I was weighed down by many possessions. Things that surrounded me, but had little purpose, nor provided insight into the life I was being called to lead. Many things have changed for me, and though many of those possessions are gone, there are new ones that have found their way into my life and my home. With each return to this piece of scripture I must take up for myself the question that Jesus has for the rich young man. Upon hearing it today, I am reminded that Jesus loved the man, and then challenged him again. I call on you to know that Jesus loves you, and challenges you to consider these things today as well.
For Jesus said,
"Truly I tell you, there is no one who has left house or brothers or sisters or mother or father or children or fields, for my sake and for the sake of the good news, who will not receive a hundredfold now in this age--houses, brothers and sisters, mothers and children, and fields with persecutions--and in the age to come eternal life…” Amen.
Delivered by The Rev. Mary Catherine Young
October 11, 2009
The Episcopal Church of Our Saviour
Thursday, September 10, 2009
"Hunger is here too..."
Proper 18, Year B, RCL
Proverbs 22:1-2, 8-9, 22-23
Psalm 125
James 2:1-10, (11-13), 14-17
Mark 7:24-37
On Wednesday night, a member of our Senior High Youth group and I were standing on the sidewalk outside the doors of our church. It was getting late in the evening and we were waiting for a ride from a parent. While there, we were approached by a woman who obviously needed some help. She was poorly dressed, and half mumbled to herself as she addressed us, asking for some food. She was hungry, and as she was speaking to us, she was saying, please Jesus, asking for something to eat, some sort of assistance. It was one of those moments where several thoughts ran through my mind at the same time.
Are we safe? Is this woman alright? How will this youth react? How can we help? What does she really need? What is she really asking for? Do I have anything to give? How do I respond?
This is not a new experience for me, but it surprises me every time. I think because I can’t imagine what it would be like to be hungry, and to have no resources with which to feed myself. I can’t imagine how hard it must be, and what kind of life experience it has taken to get to a point where you are willing to ask anyone on the street if they can help you.
Even with all of those questions happening at once, the response was immediate. You say that you are hungry? I know that we have some food. We had leftovers from our dinner, all wrapped up and waiting in the kitchen. Of course we can help with some food. You wait here, and we’ll be right back.
I could tell there was fear in the eyes of the woman as we said, “wait here.” And I wondered how many times she had heard that before, never to be helped, never to be returned to. I thought to myself, I have no way of knowing what this woman has been through, or how she has come to this place in her life, and at our doorstep. All I know is that she is here, and we have food. And our only option was obvious. We would feed her.
The youth who experienced this with me, Jessica Taylor, wrote about this experience on her facebook page this week. She titled her note: Hunger is here too. In it she wrote,
i feel lucky to have been in the right place at the right moment to help someone out, and i can only pray that her life gets better. it's just one of those things that you can't get out of your mind, the look of relief on the woman's face when she had finally found food, and the satisfaction of knowing, that one more person in the world will have a meal tonight because i was just waiting on a ride.
The moment was there and then over in an instant, and yet, it had the impact of a lifetime – a lifetime of prayerful thoughts for those who are hungry – those right here in our midst, a reminder of thankfulness for the sources of stability in our own lives, and hope that this small act will lead to a greater understanding of the importance to always remember we have neighbors in need.
In our scripture text James challenges his listeners to keep this important and difficult task. Challenging the community not to give preferential treatment to those whose clothing obviously points to a status of a member of a higher class. It’s an easy sin to commit – the desire to separate one’s self from the rif-raff, to keep our hands from getting dirty by staying in places where we feel safe, and comfortable. But the comfort and stability that is known to us, the restfulness that is found in our individual and family homes should not be taken for granted, or taken as a shelter from the harsh realities of the world around us. Rather in appreciation for what we have, in thanksgiving for the benefits of security and prosperity, a desire to make that sense of safety and freedom known to others should come, should be the response.
I’m not saying that one ought to trade in their homestead for a cardboard box – though there is a lot to learn from such an experience, and it has been done before. But I am saying that even though we have a place to come home to at night, there are those who do not, and our rest should be uneasy. Our hope in the kingdom of heaven, of bringing about that kingdom here on earth is tied to the truth that our faith in Jesus calls us to action.
--If a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food, and one of you says to them, “Go in peace; keep warm and eat your fill,” and yet you do not supply their bodily needs, what is the good of that? So faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead. (James 2:16-17)
As individuals, as a community, as Christians, our call is to share in work of feeding our faith by feeding our neighbors. We come together in this place to share in a sacred meal, and to put ourselves in the position of awareness of those around us in need of a share in our daily bread. Our sleep may be uneasy, and our prayer lists long, but as our awareness and our willingness to face these needs in the world around us, and to stand together in community and take action, we have the power to bring about that kingdom. We have a faith that is alive and well. And we have to ability to move mountains.
But the work is hard. The message doesn’t change much. And we can grow weary and irritable, and distracted along the way. We sometimes lose focus on the need that we are called to respond to due to our own needs, our own lives, our understandable desire to close the doors of our private homes and let the weight of the world rest on someone else’s shoulders tonight.
Jesus himself had a moment of weakness, a desire to rest from responding to the needs of others. In our Gospel text we learn of his attempt to hide himself, if only for a brief respite, even in a foreign place so that he might find some rest. Yet a woman recognized him, a woman outside of his ethnic and religious group, and therefore, one who had no business approaching him, called on Jesus to heal her child; to respond to her need.
His first response is one that seems surprising to we the hearers, as he seems to brush her off and even compare her people, her need to those of dogs. And yet she rebuts his comment, challenging him to remember that even the dogs, even those for whom the meal was not first prepared, are deserving of their share too, even if it is merely the crumbs of the children. Her lesson to Jesus was a reminder to him of the law of love – a reminder that he took in stride and even learned from. He noted her faith in the teaching that all deserve to be loved, to know the good life. He told her that her daughter was healed and awaited her return at home.
Perhaps this was a moment of Jesus’ own theological perspective being expanded – a moment of realization that his message, his teaching, his love was not just for the chosen ones but for all people who came to him, for all who proclaimed his name. As carriers of that love, as doers of Jesus’ word, we must remind ourselves and one another that– even in the dark moments when we ask ourselves – Is this safe? Do I have anything to give? Why are you asking me? Jesus is with us, even when we’re just standing around, waiting for a ride home. Amen.
Delivered: Sunday, September 6, 2009
Proverbs 22:1-2, 8-9, 22-23
Psalm 125
James 2:1-10, (11-13), 14-17
Mark 7:24-37
On Wednesday night, a member of our Senior High Youth group and I were standing on the sidewalk outside the doors of our church. It was getting late in the evening and we were waiting for a ride from a parent. While there, we were approached by a woman who obviously needed some help. She was poorly dressed, and half mumbled to herself as she addressed us, asking for some food. She was hungry, and as she was speaking to us, she was saying, please Jesus, asking for something to eat, some sort of assistance. It was one of those moments where several thoughts ran through my mind at the same time.
Are we safe? Is this woman alright? How will this youth react? How can we help? What does she really need? What is she really asking for? Do I have anything to give? How do I respond?
This is not a new experience for me, but it surprises me every time. I think because I can’t imagine what it would be like to be hungry, and to have no resources with which to feed myself. I can’t imagine how hard it must be, and what kind of life experience it has taken to get to a point where you are willing to ask anyone on the street if they can help you.
Even with all of those questions happening at once, the response was immediate. You say that you are hungry? I know that we have some food. We had leftovers from our dinner, all wrapped up and waiting in the kitchen. Of course we can help with some food. You wait here, and we’ll be right back.
I could tell there was fear in the eyes of the woman as we said, “wait here.” And I wondered how many times she had heard that before, never to be helped, never to be returned to. I thought to myself, I have no way of knowing what this woman has been through, or how she has come to this place in her life, and at our doorstep. All I know is that she is here, and we have food. And our only option was obvious. We would feed her.
The youth who experienced this with me, Jessica Taylor, wrote about this experience on her facebook page this week. She titled her note: Hunger is here too. In it she wrote,
i feel lucky to have been in the right place at the right moment to help someone out, and i can only pray that her life gets better. it's just one of those things that you can't get out of your mind, the look of relief on the woman's face when she had finally found food, and the satisfaction of knowing, that one more person in the world will have a meal tonight because i was just waiting on a ride.
The moment was there and then over in an instant, and yet, it had the impact of a lifetime – a lifetime of prayerful thoughts for those who are hungry – those right here in our midst, a reminder of thankfulness for the sources of stability in our own lives, and hope that this small act will lead to a greater understanding of the importance to always remember we have neighbors in need.
In our scripture text James challenges his listeners to keep this important and difficult task. Challenging the community not to give preferential treatment to those whose clothing obviously points to a status of a member of a higher class. It’s an easy sin to commit – the desire to separate one’s self from the rif-raff, to keep our hands from getting dirty by staying in places where we feel safe, and comfortable. But the comfort and stability that is known to us, the restfulness that is found in our individual and family homes should not be taken for granted, or taken as a shelter from the harsh realities of the world around us. Rather in appreciation for what we have, in thanksgiving for the benefits of security and prosperity, a desire to make that sense of safety and freedom known to others should come, should be the response.
I’m not saying that one ought to trade in their homestead for a cardboard box – though there is a lot to learn from such an experience, and it has been done before. But I am saying that even though we have a place to come home to at night, there are those who do not, and our rest should be uneasy. Our hope in the kingdom of heaven, of bringing about that kingdom here on earth is tied to the truth that our faith in Jesus calls us to action.
--If a brother or sister is naked and lacks daily food, and one of you says to them, “Go in peace; keep warm and eat your fill,” and yet you do not supply their bodily needs, what is the good of that? So faith by itself, if it has no works, is dead. (James 2:16-17)
As individuals, as a community, as Christians, our call is to share in work of feeding our faith by feeding our neighbors. We come together in this place to share in a sacred meal, and to put ourselves in the position of awareness of those around us in need of a share in our daily bread. Our sleep may be uneasy, and our prayer lists long, but as our awareness and our willingness to face these needs in the world around us, and to stand together in community and take action, we have the power to bring about that kingdom. We have a faith that is alive and well. And we have to ability to move mountains.
But the work is hard. The message doesn’t change much. And we can grow weary and irritable, and distracted along the way. We sometimes lose focus on the need that we are called to respond to due to our own needs, our own lives, our understandable desire to close the doors of our private homes and let the weight of the world rest on someone else’s shoulders tonight.
Jesus himself had a moment of weakness, a desire to rest from responding to the needs of others. In our Gospel text we learn of his attempt to hide himself, if only for a brief respite, even in a foreign place so that he might find some rest. Yet a woman recognized him, a woman outside of his ethnic and religious group, and therefore, one who had no business approaching him, called on Jesus to heal her child; to respond to her need.
His first response is one that seems surprising to we the hearers, as he seems to brush her off and even compare her people, her need to those of dogs. And yet she rebuts his comment, challenging him to remember that even the dogs, even those for whom the meal was not first prepared, are deserving of their share too, even if it is merely the crumbs of the children. Her lesson to Jesus was a reminder to him of the law of love – a reminder that he took in stride and even learned from. He noted her faith in the teaching that all deserve to be loved, to know the good life. He told her that her daughter was healed and awaited her return at home.
Perhaps this was a moment of Jesus’ own theological perspective being expanded – a moment of realization that his message, his teaching, his love was not just for the chosen ones but for all people who came to him, for all who proclaimed his name. As carriers of that love, as doers of Jesus’ word, we must remind ourselves and one another that– even in the dark moments when we ask ourselves – Is this safe? Do I have anything to give? Why are you asking me? Jesus is with us, even when we’re just standing around, waiting for a ride home. Amen.
Delivered: Sunday, September 6, 2009
Friday, August 21, 2009
Food Challenge
Proper 9, Year B, RCL
1 Kings 19:4-8
Psalm 34:1-8
Ephesians 4:25-5:2
John 6:35, 41-51
If you don’t have cable TV or haven’t watched the Travel Channel recently, you may have missed out on a great little show my husband and I enjoy called Man vs. Food. On this show, the chummy host Adam Richman, visits restaurants in cities around the country specifically tasting and describing not-to-be-missed specialties, and the incredible food challenges some of these places have. By food challenge I mean: attempting to drink 16 milkshakes in one sitting, eating a plate covered in burger and fries that weighs over 5 lbs., devouring a 72 oz. steak, with salad and sides to boot. All for the chance to have his name and face immortalized on the wall, and a prized food-challenge winner t-shirt. My husband and I have been to a few of the places our friendly host has showcased, and we have enjoyed participating in the spoils of his great food reporting. Rather than the bread of life, Adam seems to find salvation in a cheeseburger in paradise.
Recently while watching the show, and as a frequent restaurant consumer, I have been struck by the sheer size of the portions and expected consumption delivered to patrons – exemplified to the extreme by the food challenges – but still a concern in the real world day-to-day of health-conscious American diners. Food is a constant and abundant resource in the American lifestyle – food of every variety, ethnicity, seasoning, and style. And yet there are hungry people in our midst.
Perhaps I should speak to you of spiritual hunger, the kind that Jesus was pointing to in his words to the disciples, and the woman at the well – those who believe will never hunger or thirst again… and I will get to that, but the fact of the matter is – Jesus didn’t just talk about ethereal things. Before he focused on his message of hope and salvation, Jesus fed people. Our Gospel selections from John have showed us this throughout the summer. Jesus fed thousands who were hungry, and when they were satisfied, he taught them.
His first work, his first response to the crowds were to their most basic need – providing an abundance of resources that allowed the weak to be made strong, the poor to be satisfied, placing those who could not afford lunch on a level playing field with those who could. Fish, bread, wine, water. These tangible, necessary, life-giving resources were first and foremost components of Jesus ministry to the people he met in his days here on earth. It was after he fed those who were hungry that he spoke them of the bread of life – the gift of abundant life that comes from the experience of knowing Jesus and caring for and feeding others. As faithful followers of Christ, we have a legacy to uphold alongside of the fulfillment of our own spiritual hunger.
Spiritual hunger is real – and there are many ways to seek satisfaction in the face of this need. Many of you come here to be fed by the communities that gather through our parish life – communal worship and Holy Eucharist, fellowship time at coffee hour, Sunday school, children and youth ministry projects, musical endeavors, even the very real practice of feeding others through our relationship with IHN, Pilgrim’s Inn and other community outreach organizations.
If your need for spiritual practice and fulfillment has brought you here – I hope that it is being satisfied in a way that is truly, life-giving, challenging, active and reflective in the process of developing your faith and spiritual life.
But also know that our life here is not only about creating a space of spiritual sanctuary, a resting place from the busyness of the world out there – it is a place that serves as a constant reminder of Christ’s love for you – for YOU – and this body of Christ that we recognize when we gather here has an agenda, a mission. As members of the body, we open our doors inviting others into a relationship with God in Christ, inviting others to feed on the Bread of Life. But in the midst of that, in the life we proclaim as doers of the Word, as followers of Christ, our call to action is clear:
It is that of a gentle hand that points to those standing outside of our doors, reminding you that the choices you make with your time, your talent and your treasure is tied to the needs of those surrounding you – those for whom the source of the next meal is not certain. We, who have consistent access to basic resources: clean drinkable water, grocery stores, pantries and refrigerators filled to meet our every day needs, we have a responsibility to our God and to our neighbors.
We, who are fed by the gifts of bread and wine, we who find spiritual edification in the faith that when we gather in Christ’s name he is with us, we are called upon to get the message – if you love me, if you know me, if you follow my actions, you will feed my people. Their hunger is real too.
How do we do this? How do we live this? At every meal in which you partake – pray – give thanks for the food you are about to receive, and remember those who are hungry. There is a saying in the way our Anglican prayer book was developed: lex orandi, lex credenda: Praying shapes believing. If your constant prayer is that you might taste the bread of life, that you might know the one in whom there is no hunger, then your ears may become more attuned to those in need in your community. Your budget may become more flexible when you are given an opportunity to give to another. Your basket may become a little more full at the grocery store when you find an extra dollar or two to pick up the cost of some basic meal provisions. Your decision to find a way to volunteer some of your time and talent may lead you to the door of Pilgrim’s Inn. Prayers have many ways of working, the first being that you open yourself to the possibility that God may be at work in you, and that you may be able to serve as the hands and feet of God in this world.
Adam Richman of Man vs. Food faces one kind of food challenge on his show – one of consumption and entertaining physical comedy. Today I give to you a food challenge of your own. I challenge you to consider your own desire to be fulfilled – to be nourished physically and spiritually. Consider the possibility that these two things are tied together, not only that your own hunger is satisfied, but that your spiritual hunger to know Christ, to taste the Bread of Life may be fulfilled in following the actions of Jesus: May you eat and be satisfied and may you share your next meal with God and your neighbor. Amen.
Delivered: Sunday, August 9, 2009
1 Kings 19:4-8
Psalm 34:1-8
Ephesians 4:25-5:2
John 6:35, 41-51
If you don’t have cable TV or haven’t watched the Travel Channel recently, you may have missed out on a great little show my husband and I enjoy called Man vs. Food. On this show, the chummy host Adam Richman, visits restaurants in cities around the country specifically tasting and describing not-to-be-missed specialties, and the incredible food challenges some of these places have. By food challenge I mean: attempting to drink 16 milkshakes in one sitting, eating a plate covered in burger and fries that weighs over 5 lbs., devouring a 72 oz. steak, with salad and sides to boot. All for the chance to have his name and face immortalized on the wall, and a prized food-challenge winner t-shirt. My husband and I have been to a few of the places our friendly host has showcased, and we have enjoyed participating in the spoils of his great food reporting. Rather than the bread of life, Adam seems to find salvation in a cheeseburger in paradise.
Recently while watching the show, and as a frequent restaurant consumer, I have been struck by the sheer size of the portions and expected consumption delivered to patrons – exemplified to the extreme by the food challenges – but still a concern in the real world day-to-day of health-conscious American diners. Food is a constant and abundant resource in the American lifestyle – food of every variety, ethnicity, seasoning, and style. And yet there are hungry people in our midst.
Perhaps I should speak to you of spiritual hunger, the kind that Jesus was pointing to in his words to the disciples, and the woman at the well – those who believe will never hunger or thirst again… and I will get to that, but the fact of the matter is – Jesus didn’t just talk about ethereal things. Before he focused on his message of hope and salvation, Jesus fed people. Our Gospel selections from John have showed us this throughout the summer. Jesus fed thousands who were hungry, and when they were satisfied, he taught them.
His first work, his first response to the crowds were to their most basic need – providing an abundance of resources that allowed the weak to be made strong, the poor to be satisfied, placing those who could not afford lunch on a level playing field with those who could. Fish, bread, wine, water. These tangible, necessary, life-giving resources were first and foremost components of Jesus ministry to the people he met in his days here on earth. It was after he fed those who were hungry that he spoke them of the bread of life – the gift of abundant life that comes from the experience of knowing Jesus and caring for and feeding others. As faithful followers of Christ, we have a legacy to uphold alongside of the fulfillment of our own spiritual hunger.
Spiritual hunger is real – and there are many ways to seek satisfaction in the face of this need. Many of you come here to be fed by the communities that gather through our parish life – communal worship and Holy Eucharist, fellowship time at coffee hour, Sunday school, children and youth ministry projects, musical endeavors, even the very real practice of feeding others through our relationship with IHN, Pilgrim’s Inn and other community outreach organizations.
If your need for spiritual practice and fulfillment has brought you here – I hope that it is being satisfied in a way that is truly, life-giving, challenging, active and reflective in the process of developing your faith and spiritual life.
But also know that our life here is not only about creating a space of spiritual sanctuary, a resting place from the busyness of the world out there – it is a place that serves as a constant reminder of Christ’s love for you – for YOU – and this body of Christ that we recognize when we gather here has an agenda, a mission. As members of the body, we open our doors inviting others into a relationship with God in Christ, inviting others to feed on the Bread of Life. But in the midst of that, in the life we proclaim as doers of the Word, as followers of Christ, our call to action is clear:
It is that of a gentle hand that points to those standing outside of our doors, reminding you that the choices you make with your time, your talent and your treasure is tied to the needs of those surrounding you – those for whom the source of the next meal is not certain. We, who have consistent access to basic resources: clean drinkable water, grocery stores, pantries and refrigerators filled to meet our every day needs, we have a responsibility to our God and to our neighbors.
We, who are fed by the gifts of bread and wine, we who find spiritual edification in the faith that when we gather in Christ’s name he is with us, we are called upon to get the message – if you love me, if you know me, if you follow my actions, you will feed my people. Their hunger is real too.
How do we do this? How do we live this? At every meal in which you partake – pray – give thanks for the food you are about to receive, and remember those who are hungry. There is a saying in the way our Anglican prayer book was developed: lex orandi, lex credenda: Praying shapes believing. If your constant prayer is that you might taste the bread of life, that you might know the one in whom there is no hunger, then your ears may become more attuned to those in need in your community. Your budget may become more flexible when you are given an opportunity to give to another. Your basket may become a little more full at the grocery store when you find an extra dollar or two to pick up the cost of some basic meal provisions. Your decision to find a way to volunteer some of your time and talent may lead you to the door of Pilgrim’s Inn. Prayers have many ways of working, the first being that you open yourself to the possibility that God may be at work in you, and that you may be able to serve as the hands and feet of God in this world.
Adam Richman of Man vs. Food faces one kind of food challenge on his show – one of consumption and entertaining physical comedy. Today I give to you a food challenge of your own. I challenge you to consider your own desire to be fulfilled – to be nourished physically and spiritually. Consider the possibility that these two things are tied together, not only that your own hunger is satisfied, but that your spiritual hunger to know Christ, to taste the Bread of Life may be fulfilled in following the actions of Jesus: May you eat and be satisfied and may you share your next meal with God and your neighbor. Amen.
Delivered: Sunday, August 9, 2009
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