From my sermon for the Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany:

I suspect that most of us have a difficult time relating to the kind of biblical story we have in Mark’s Gospel this morning about an exorcism of an “unclean spirit” from a man in the synagogue and Capernaum. I have come to believe that people in the 1st century understood as do people in the 21st century, that sometimes we are caught up in forces that are not genuinely us. The road to healing lies in our relationship to Christ and to one another.

Sermon can be found here.

From my sermon for the Second Sunday of Epiphany:

Part of what is going on in the story of old Eli and young Samuel is God choosing someone outside normal channels, an unexpected, unlikely one, a very young one, to do God’s work. Samuel will become Israel’s first great prophet. That God has not called Eli or his sons, but an inexperienced child calls into question some of our assumptions about who is truly qualified to be persons through whom God works. Samuel will become Israel’s first great prophet. That God has not called Eli or his sons, but an inexperienced child calls into question some of our assumptions about who is truly qualified to be persons through whom God works.  We too, can hear the loving voice of God, and find ourselves called to new ways of participation in the healing of the world.

Sermon can be found here.

The final day of Christmas, and we must move on. The Magi at Epiphany beckon us forward. They represent that part of us that yearns for understanding, for confidence and hope, for life as we sense it was meant to be.  They are willing to take some risk, to stretch their horizons, to take the next step of faith even though they are not given a clear-cut plan.

The Magi looked to a new horizon and eventually they found horizons that were not merely physical or geographical.  Their journey did not end with the experience of finding the child born a king but continued long after. T.S. Eliot captures this thought with the Magi reflecting, “We returned to our places, these Kingdoms, but no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation.”

As we journey into the year 2012 may our steps lead us to encounter the mystery of Christ in the ordinary and unlikely places of our lives.  Like the Magi, we can move beyond the well trodden paths of the ordinary and choose to pay attention to the sacred dimension of the world around us, to the hope that stirs within our own hearts, to the joy of making a small difference in the lives of others.

Ruth Haley Barton features this lovely poem on her website today.  It captures Epiphany with eloquence.

Beckoning God—
who called the rich to travel toward poverty,
the wise to embrace your folly,
and the powerful to know their own frailty;
who gave strangers
a sense of homecoming in an alien land
and to stargazers
true light and vision as they bowed to earth—
we lay ourselves open to your signs for us…

Rise within us, like a star,
And make us restless
Till we journey forth
To seek our rest in you.

Kate Compston, Bread of Tomorrow

“To utter the name Jesus is to make a statement of faith as well as to give voice to a prayer.  Jesus is our salvation, the One sent to redeem us, to keep us from falling away from the God who created us for a meaningful life. In the human life of Jesus, God shares our place, in the midst of our very brokenness, he offers us grace—the grace of unconditional love, forgiveness for our faults, the ability to see and embrace what truly matters.  And what matters is a life of communion with God and others, a life of care; of collaboration, and loving service.”

My sermon can be found here.

Good is the flesh that the Word has become,
good is the birthing, the milk in the breast,
good is the feeding, caressing and rest,
good is the body for knowing the world,
Good is the flesh that the Word has become.

Good is the body for knowing the world,
sensing the sunlight, the tug of the ground,
feeling, perceiving, within and around,
good is the body, from cradle to grave,
Good is the flesh that the Word has become.

Good is the body, from cradle to grave,
growing and aging, arousing, impaired,
happy in clothing, or lovingly bared,
good is the pleasure of God in our flesh,
Good is the flesh that the Word has become.

Good is the pleasure of God in our flesh,
longing in all, as in Jesus, to dwell,
glad of embracing, and tasting, and smell,
good is the body, for good and for God,
Good is the flesh that the Word has become.

© Brian Wren, as quoted in An Altar in the World by Barbara Brown Taylor (Harper One).

The fourth week of Advent (this year a full seven days, thank God), promises to be active with preparations, last minute purchases, and social engagements. In my parish office, we are busy getting ready for the Festival of the Nativity and the many guests we expect on Christmas Eve.

Spiritually, the goal is the same: getting ready. We must try to find a way to turn activity inward as we approach the last few days before Christmas and become centered, open to the tremendous mystery at hand. Our model is Mary. Despite what must have been a stressful late-pregnancy, rough travel, and the uncertainty of where she would actually deliver, she is ready. Since that surprising day when her cousin Elizabeth told here she was blessed in her believing, Mary has been waiting expectantly. For us too, the time draws close. We believe and wait for the fulfillment of God’s promise.

I think of my own daughter Rebecca, in her late pregnancy, and her unborn child expected in late December or early January. The waiting is nearly over for her and her husband Nate. Beyond the labor there will be fullness of joy, though perhaps initially, joyful exhaustion!

It’s important to realize as we turn toward Christmas, that joy runs deeper than happiness, which is so often predicated on favorable life circumstances. Joy is the quiet, confident assurance of God’s love and presence at work within us–no matter the challenges that life presents. Coupled with this conviction, I find the practice of gratitude helps to re-direct negative cycles of thinking toward positive things, especially in times of adversity. There must have been times in Mary’s life when her circumstances left her feeling discouraged and unhappy. Yet there can be no doubt of her deep joy and assurance whenever we hear or sing her wonderful Magnificat (Luke 1:46-55).

This distinction between happy circumstances and confident joy can help us enter into the mystery of Christmas as we are and where we are, without trying to achieve our own or someone else’s expectations. We cherish the story of Christmas precisely because it is such a human story and because in that story, we find inspiration and hope for our own lives and for the world. May the story of God’s coming as a child of blessing and peace find a home in all of us once again.

]]> http://www.ricklord.org/archives/3542/feed 0 http://www.ricklord.org/archives/3542 http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/WorldOfYourMaking/~3/w7jOs3ltdaU/3520 http://www.ricklord.org/archives/3520#comments Mon, 12 Dec 2011 21:51:00 +0000 Rick Lord http://www.ricklord.org/?p=3520

Photo by Sarah Bartenstein

At the Ordination of Priests for the Diocese of Virginia on Saturday, those gathered witnessed an extraordinary sermon by The Rev. Dr. Roger Ferlo of Virginia Theological Seminary.

Dr. Ferlo reminded us that,

“Jesus dwells among us in what Scripture and our Eucharistic Prayer describe as ‘these last days,’ the ‘meantime,’ the time between Christ’s first coming and his second coming in fulfillment of God’s dream for the world. These are also ‘mean times,’ a time when fear and violence are rampant across the globe, a time when rhetoric is hot and hatreds are worn on the sleeve, a time shadowed by war and by sin, by environmental degradation, by racial intolerance by fanaticism and sheer terror. These ten ordinands are being ordained to serve Christ in these mean times.”

Dr. Ferlo then offered this poignant observation:

“In this liturgy we pray, ‘Let you priests be clothed with righteousness and let your people sing with joy’. But I wonder if our prayer this morning should really be, ‘Give these ten poor fools the wit to duck for cover.’ It’s not just these ordinands who need to duck for cover, for we are all in this together.”

We are now deep into the season of Advent.  On the Third Sunday of Advent we are simply told that “there was a man sent from God whose name was John.”  I wonder if that also true of each of one us?  There is about the life of each and everyone of us a reality of being “sent,” of having a certain purpose and meaning for existence. As we reflect on the path our lives have taken and what has happened to us so far, we can see a thread of meaning weaving through our lives like rhyme.  Noticing that unfolding pattern of meaning and direction gives us an inkling of what it means to be sent by God.  The good news I hear in the Gospel for the Third Sunday of Advent is that each of us is truly meant to be here.

Like John the Baptist, we have an alternative story for these “mean times,” one in which every human life matters, and is created for loving relationship with the source of all life. In this story your worth is given, not earned.  In this alternative story, we are offered forgiveness for our faults and errors, for the harm we’ve done to others and this earth, and so are freed to forgive others and break the cycle of harm and retribution. In this story we learn that we are claimed by a love and power beyond our own. We have good news to share.

As we approach the final rush to Christmas, don’t forget what it means to be living in these “mean times.” In simple, loving, and yet prophetic ways, be a witness to the light of Jesus the Christ.

My sermon for Advent III can be found here.

The author David Dark, in his book titled, “Everyday Apocalypse” offers this helpful insight:

“Apocalyptic literature cracks the pavement of the status quo.  It is the place where the future pushes into the present.  It’s the breaking in of another dimension, a new wine for which our old wineskins are unprepared” (p. 12).

I wonder if that isn’t a penetrating insight, not only about apocalyptic literature, but about Advent itself – it “cracks the pavement of the status quo.”  There’s something on the horizon, this literature says, something breaking into our ordinary world that needs to be looked for, paid attention to, and be invited in. If you think about it in that way, then maybe we can better understand why it is that we start every liturgical year, with these apocalyptic teachings of Jesus, not to remind us of doom and gloom, but to invite us to pay attention, to reflect on how God is coming into the world, and how are lives might be different and changed in the here and now.

This of course, is the exact opposite of what our culture is urgently telling us to do, which is to get busy in the marathon of shopping and social engagements which leave us depleted and exhausted by Christmas Day. It is hard to believe that stores are now opening on Thanksgiving Day.

Perhaps you saw the outrageous incident on the news where at a Los Angeles Wal-Mart, a woman used pepper spray to get an edge on shoppers in a rush for Xbox game consoles.  And while we may criticize the commercialization of Black Friday, it is interesting to note that some of the people are waiting for hours in line on Black Friday because they can’t afford to buy what they need at full price, and these teaser sales are incredibly helpful to them.  The people standing in line on Black Friday are not usually the wealthy or the well off. It is those with far less income than we have who are most often forced to stand in those lines.

What are we to do?  Can we even celebrate Advent in a culture so out of tune with the liturgical year?  Is it even remotely possible in the month of December to give ourselves time to notice the “cracks in the pavement of the status quo,” to apprehend the ways that God’s future kingdom is “pushing into the present?”

Well, yes, of course it is, but it will require us to make some choices about what we will give our attention to in the days ahead.  It takes faithful effort to avoid rushing towards Christmas. And so I would like to authorize an official slowdown for ourselves in the next four weeks. I invite you to make a deliberate, counterculture decision to spend a few minutes each day in quiet, to create space for Christ to come into your life in a new way. Take a ten-minute break a couple of times a day while you are at work and simply go outside and breathe. When your boss asks you what you think you are doing, just answer, “My priest has authorized this.”  Our health and our future require a more contemplative way of being and seeing.  Find a way each day to slow down and be quiet.  Notice the cracks in the pavement of the status quo.

Listen to the full sermon here.

A Pastoral Prayer for Advent.

Blessed are you, O Lord Most High, God of all creation: in the darkness and in the light. Blessed are you as we wait in joyful hope for the coming of our Savior, Jesus Christ. In this time of waiting we again watch for the signs of your coming. In this changing and broken world where all is not peaceful, we watch for the signs of your coming.

In this world where children are hungry and ancient hatreds continue to fuel division and suffering, we watch for the signs of peace, we pray for courage to embrace our enemies, and we pray for an end to warfare. In this community of faith, where we have known the inspiration of worship and the warm acceptance of friends, we wait for the day when all peoples will be reconciled to one another. In this parish where we have witnessed and experienced loss and brokenness, loneliness and sorrow, we wait for your coming with healing in your wings, especially upon those who are walking the journey of grief.  Give them faith to believe that the lives of those they love but see no longer have changed, not ended. 

O Lord, help us to see that this season of Advent is not only about waiting, but also about offering ourselves to be your light in the world; to pray for those unable to pray, to offer ourselves as answers to their prayers.  Inspire and move us to take the light of our compassion to the world; to come alongside those who are suffering in body, mind, or spirit that we might be Christ for them. 

Help us to move beyond our current mindset, our current ways of seeing, that we may  behold with wonder the many ways you are present in our lives and in our world.  Through ancient prophecies, hymns, and songs of praise, help us to celebrate this season of Advent as the momentous reality it proclaims: Your coming into our midst, sharing our human nature, not only in the past but as a constant possibility in the here and now. We offer our prayers to you in the name of Jesus, the glorious Son of God, the reason for Advent and Christmas, the source of our joy and our strength, now and forevermore. 

Lately, at Church of the Holy Comforter, we’ve been exploring possibilites for improvements to our main sanctuary built in the early 1960′s.  Three central goals have emerged:

1. To Unify the Assembly (to emphasize a community gathered rather than audience observing participants)
2. To Illuminate our Sacred Space (more natural as well as digital light to uncover the beauty of holiness)
3. To Install a New Digital Organ (more fully enhance congregational singing and the ministry of music)

It has been encouraging to see between 35 and 40 people attend each of our recent “Listening Sessions” to consider possibilities for further improvements to our liturgical space at Holy Comforter. There have been a lot of informal conversations in the Narthex between liturgies, and at various committee and ministry meetings over the last several weeks. The process of “listening together” continues, and I believe from this process, a unifying sense of direction will emerge as the Vestry seeks to provide needed leadership in the coming year.

One of the important questions to ask when we consider investing in our physical plant is how such investments relate to achieving God’s mission in the here and now. The Gospel calls us to be passionate about a very few core values and flexible on everything else. What are those things that truly matter, and what are those things that don’t? It is clear that love of God, of neighbor, and of our deepest selves held priority for Jesus and his disciples. Compassion, forgiveness, speaking for those who have no voice, and being generous with our resources were also among the core values Jesus illuminated with his unique life and teaching. This Gospel challenge resonates strongly with our own Baptismal Covenant in The Book of Common Prayer (page 304-305).

In a world where everything is changing so rapidly, core values such as the ones outlined in the Baptismal Covenant might serve as helpful benchmarks for us in all areas of Christian life. This is particularly true when we are called to be good stewards of God’s money as we renovate or build church structures flexible enough to adapt to the needs of today’s world and beyond. In the final analysis they remind us that the church’s “customers” are not singularly our parishioners, the clergy, or even the diocese . . . our “customers” include those who are seeking a way of life that helps make sense of the challenging world we live in–those who need to hear and see the Good News of Jesus Christ lived out in a welcoming and inspiring way.

How can our sanctuary space communicate the transforming message of Jesus in this welcoming and inspiring way?  What architectural or liturgical improvements will be the most inviting to those potentially interested in our community, yet also preserve a sense of mystery that lifts up the centrality of Baptism, Eucharist, God’s voice speaking through Scripture, and the Community gathered as partners in God’s mission?  What will I sacrifice for those who are not yet here?

That last question might be one to add to our listening process as we discern the good steps God may be calling us to pursue in the months ahead. If there is a “wideness in God’s mercy,” perhaps our sacred space can help make that truth become more visible and experiential to all who enter.

We give you thanks, O God, for the gifts of your people, and for the work of many hands, which have beautified this place and furnished it for the celebration of your holy mysteries. Accept and bless all we have done, and grant that in these earthly things we may behold the order and beauty of things heavenly; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

(Book of Common Prayer, p. 573)