June 17, 2007
This morning, we have heard about Jesus going to a dinner party hosted by Simon, one of the leading citizens of Jerusalem. In the middle of the meal, something unexpected, something astonishing happened. A woman crashed the party. And not just any woman. A woman from the streets; a notorious sinner…a prostitute. She walks in and starts pouring expensive feet. Then she begin to cry, her tears falling on his feet. She begins to wipe his feet with her hair.
The actions of this woman broke just about every social custom of that day. Beyond that, it broke most of our social customs today.
Imagine if this happened to you. You’re having dinner, and a woman you’ve never seen before suddenly bursts into the dining room, and begins to wash your feet with her tears. I don’t know about you, but I’d be terribly embarrassed. What are people going to think? Aren’t they going to wonder how I came to know such a woman? This is going to destroy my reputation. Someone call 911. Get this crazy woman out of here.
That’s probably how Simon, the host of the party, saw things. He’s outraged by the whole thing. He thinks to himself, "If this man were a prophet, he would have known who and what kind of woman this is who is touching him-- that she is a sinner."
And sometimes, I think that is how the Church responds to some people. Not all the time, but sometimes. When we throw open the doors of the Church, and send out the message that are a welcome to join in the feast, some people may respond to that invitation that may make us feel uncomfortable. They’re different. Their a little strange. They don’t look like most of us. They dress differently. They talk differently. And maybe we know some of them to be notorious sinners.
And when persons like the woman in this morning’s Gospel story show up, they feel our reaction to their presence. The sad truth is that much too often, people who, like her, were drawn to Jesus too often avoid the church today.
Phillip Yancey tells the story of a friend of his in Chicago who worked with poor persons in the city. He was visited once by a prostitute who was in dire straits. She had been renting out her two-year old daughter to men for sex in order to support her drug habit; and she was homeless, sick, and unable to buy food for herself or her daughter. Yancey's friend asked if she had thought about going to a church for help, and the woman seemed horrified. "Church?! Why would I ever go there? I was already feeling terrible about myself. They'd just make me feel worse." She had experienced church as a place of judgment and inhospitality.
How can we be more hospitable to the stranger in our midst, even if we feel uncomfortable? We may want to take a closer look at Jesus’ response to this woman.
Instead of worrying about himself and his reputation, Jesus immediately jumped to the defense of this woman. We're not told exactly what had happened to this woman before she showed up at the party, ; but, obviously, something had taken place that was absolutely life-changing…life changing enough for her to kneel at Jesus feet and weep. Somehow, she had become aware of the love and mercy of God. Since it was to Jesus that she offered her gift of perfume, it must have been ministry of Jesus that was the catalyst for her change of heart.
Somehow, this woman had come to see that God's goodness is always bigger than our sinfulness. This woman had come to understand that there is nothing we can do to make God love us any more than God already loves us, and there is nothing we can do to make God stop loving us.
So how did Jesus respond to Simon’s outrage? He said to him, “"Do you see this woman? I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has bathed my feet with her tears and dried them with her hair. You gave me no kiss, but from the time I came in she has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not anoint my head with oil, but she has anointed my feet with ointment. Therefore, I tell you, her sins, which were many, have been forgiven; hence she has shown great love. But the one to whom little is forgiven, loves little."
Her sins have been forgiven; hence her great love. There’s a point here that we need to make sure we get straight. This woman was not trying to earn God’s forgiveness by washing Jesus’ feet. God’s grace is a free gift. We don’t deserve. And we can’t get it through good works. The woman in this story had already experienced God’s grace, God’s forgiveness. The act of ministering to Jesus was in response to this gift of grace. It was an act of thanksgiving for the good thing that god has already done.
When we find a stranger in our midst here at church, we need to always remember that God has already touched their lives. They wouldn’t be here otherwise. Our role is to celebrate with them the good thing that god has already done, and love them with the love of God.
In his commentary on this Gospel story, Fred Craddock wonders where one goes when told to go in peace as Jesus instructs this woman to do at the end of our story. "What she needs," Craddock says, "is a community of forgiven and forgiving sinners. The story," he says, "screams the need for a church, one that says you are welcome here."
There is an old legend about Judas that Madeleine L'Engle tells. The legend is that after his death Judas found himself at the bottom of a deep and slimy pit. For thousands of years he wept his repentance, and when the tears were finally spent, he looked up and saw way, way up a tiny glimmer of light. After he had contemplated it for another thousand years or so, he began to try to climb up towards the light. The walls of the pit were dark and slimy, and he kept slipping back down. Finally, after great effort, he neared the top and then he slipped and fell all the way back down to the bottom. It took him many years to recover, all the time weeping bitter tears of grief and repentance, and then he started to climb up again. After many more falls and efforts and failures, he reached the top and dragged himself into an upper room with twelve people seated around the table. "We've been waiting for you, Judas," Jesus said. "We couldn't begin till you came."
So many people are looking for a community of forgiven and forgiving sinners. May they find such a community on the corner of Main and Cedar in downtown Tuckerton.
Sunday, June 17, 2007
Homeless Outreach
We are supporting two ministries to the homeless: The Atlantic City Rescue Mission and The Lakewood Outreach Ministry. You can help by providing new towels, tooth paste and brushes, shampoo, bar soap, disposable razors, combs, brushes, toilet tissue and disposable diapers.
Items may be placed in the two large boxes in the Fellowship Hall marked for our ministry to the homeless. For more information, please contact the parish office at 609-296-9618. Please note that clothing is not needed at this time.
Items may be placed in the two large boxes in the Fellowship Hall marked for our ministry to the homeless. For more information, please contact the parish office at 609-296-9618. Please note that clothing is not needed at this time.
Vendor's Fair, Saturday, August 4
From 9:00 am to 3:00 pm, vendors will be set up in the parking lot across the street. Contact the parish office at 609-296-9618 to reserve a vendor space. First come, first served. An 8' space is $25, rain date is August 11.
Fellowship Dinners
On the last Wednesday of each month, we are offering a free hot meal to anyone who shows up. Leave your wallets home! Please call the parish office at 609-296-9618 to make your reservation.
ECW Potluck and Crazy Bingo, Tuesday, June 19
Bring a covered dish at 6:00 pm to share with 6, along with three $1 gifts, and join in the fun! Sign-up sheet in Fellowship Hall, or call the parish office at 609-296-9618.
Blueberry Festival, Saturday, July 14
Order your homemade blueberry pie today! The sign-up sheet is in Fellowship Hall, or call the parish office at 609-296-9618.
The Second Sunday after Pentecost, June 10, 2007
This morning we encounter two processions. One is going into the town of Nain and the other is coming out. Nain is a town in the South of Galilee, a short distance from Jesus’ hometown of Nazareth.
At the head of the procession going into Nain is Jesus. The procession coming out is led by a coffin. What will happen when these two processions cross paths at the town gate? Which one will give way?
Jesus sees the grieving mother. What does He do? How does He respond? His heart went out to her. He feels compassion for her. He chose to share in her sorrow.
Moved by compassion, Jesus acts. "Young man, I say to you, get up!" he shouts. And the dead man sat up and began to talk. The compassion of Jesus led to something amazing happening, something unexpected. Death was trampled down by the Lord of Life.
This is our Christian hope. Through Jesus Christ, death, our ancient enemy, has been cast down and trampled underfoot. Death has been swallowed up in victory. We no longer have to live in fear of death.
But, sometimes, we do anyway, don’t we? It's difficult not to fear death. I’m not just talking about physical death. We die many little deaths throughout our lives. Many of the changes we face feel much like a little death. We grieve the loss of the familiar. We long to relive days from our past.
But the reality is that if we are to continue to grow, we must accept these little deaths. We must allow ourselves to be transformed into the full stature of Christ. And for that to happen, we have to let go of some of the baggage that we are dragging around with us; those old grudges, those past regrets, and those character flaws. There are aspects of ourselves that we have to allow to die.
In our Epistle lesson, Paul speaks about his earlier life in Judaism; about how he was violently persecuting the church of God and was trying to destroy it. You may recall when St. Stephen was stoned to death, it was Saul, who later became Paul, who held the coats of the stone hurling crowd. When Paul encountered Christ on the road to Damascus, he was transformed. But that transformation required a little death as well; the zealous persecutor of the Church had to die.
Congregations have to pass through these little deaths as well, if they are to be transformed and follow the call of God. I was an interim priest for a few years. I would be assigned to serve in a congregation while they made their transition from one spiritual leader to another. Sometimes their former priest was the beloved rector. Sometimes he or she was not so beloved.
Regardless of the case, there was always some element of a grieving process going on in that congregation. Interims were expected to allow that process to happen, and attend to any pastoral needs that might result from it. It was only when the congregation faced that that particular chapter in their life was now over that they could begin to dream about the future. There had to be a little death before there could be room for new life.
Sometimes, we fear these little deaths so much, that we are a bit too cautious. We hesitate to do anything new or risky. What if we fail? What if there isn’t enough? What if we make a mistake? We stick to the familiar, to the comfortable, because we are afraid of dying.
Barbara Brown Taylor, an author and an Episcopal priest, recently wrote a thoughtful article in the Christian Century entitled, “The Poured-Out Church”. I want to share part of it with you:
…when I consider my life of faith, this world is clearly where my transformation has taken place. It is in the world that I have met the people who have changed me—some of them believers, but far more of them not—people who have loved me, fought me, shamed me, forgiven me, sanding down my edges on one side while they broke whole ragged chunks of me off the other. The world is where I have been struck dumb by beauty, by cruelty, by human invention and greed. The world is where my notions of God have been destroyed, reformed, chastened, redeemed. The world is where I have occasionally been good for something and where I have done irreparable harm.
The reason I know this, however, is that the church has given me the eyes with which I see, as well as the words with which I speak. The church has given me a community in which to figure out what has happened to me in the world. It has given me a place to love and grieve, within a tradition far older and wiser than I. It is the church that has poured me into the world, in other words—which is counterintuitive. How can a church survive that keeps pouring itself into the world? I cannot possibly say. All I know is the gospel truth: those willing to give everything away are the ones with anything worth keeping; those willing to look death full in the face are the ones with the most abundant lives. Go figure...
“…those willing to look death full in the face are the ones with the most abundant lives.” Can we look death full in the face? Are we willing to pour ourselves into the world? Will we risk much for the sake of the Gospel?
We can. And we will. Because we are Christians. Because we do not live in fear of death. Because we are those who proclaim the power of the resurrection of Jesus Christ.
I’m not suggesting we be foolish. There’s a difference between being bold and risking much and being foolish. We are certainly called to be good stewards of the gifts God has given us.
But we must always remember that our mission field is out there in the world. And to be effective witnesses for God, we must pour ourselves into the world, even if it seems risky; even if it seems deadly.
How do we know where to pour ourselves out? In this morning’s Gospel, when those two processions met, one led by life, and one led by death, it was at the moment that Jesus was filled with compassion for the widow that everything was transformed. Life overcame death. Mourning was transformed into laughter and joy. This transformation began with compassion; with Jesus opening his heart to the grief of the mother. Where do we begin to pour ourselves out? In those places where people are hurting; in those places where we find ourselves moved to open our hearts and reveal the compassion of Christ.
Let us always remember that we do not exist for the sake of the Church. We exist for the sake of the world. We are called to pour ourselves out, driven by compassion for those who are hurting in this world. If that means we have to look death full in the face, so be it. Cannot God raise up something new from the ashes of our vanquished dreams?
Let us not live in fear of death, or the little deaths that each of us will face as we walk together with Christ in our midst. Let us be willing to risk much for the sake of the world, and proclaim with our every word and deed the healing power of God’s love.
At the head of the procession going into Nain is Jesus. The procession coming out is led by a coffin. What will happen when these two processions cross paths at the town gate? Which one will give way?
Jesus sees the grieving mother. What does He do? How does He respond? His heart went out to her. He feels compassion for her. He chose to share in her sorrow.
Moved by compassion, Jesus acts. "Young man, I say to you, get up!" he shouts. And the dead man sat up and began to talk. The compassion of Jesus led to something amazing happening, something unexpected. Death was trampled down by the Lord of Life.
This is our Christian hope. Through Jesus Christ, death, our ancient enemy, has been cast down and trampled underfoot. Death has been swallowed up in victory. We no longer have to live in fear of death.
But, sometimes, we do anyway, don’t we? It's difficult not to fear death. I’m not just talking about physical death. We die many little deaths throughout our lives. Many of the changes we face feel much like a little death. We grieve the loss of the familiar. We long to relive days from our past.
But the reality is that if we are to continue to grow, we must accept these little deaths. We must allow ourselves to be transformed into the full stature of Christ. And for that to happen, we have to let go of some of the baggage that we are dragging around with us; those old grudges, those past regrets, and those character flaws. There are aspects of ourselves that we have to allow to die.
In our Epistle lesson, Paul speaks about his earlier life in Judaism; about how he was violently persecuting the church of God and was trying to destroy it. You may recall when St. Stephen was stoned to death, it was Saul, who later became Paul, who held the coats of the stone hurling crowd. When Paul encountered Christ on the road to Damascus, he was transformed. But that transformation required a little death as well; the zealous persecutor of the Church had to die.
Congregations have to pass through these little deaths as well, if they are to be transformed and follow the call of God. I was an interim priest for a few years. I would be assigned to serve in a congregation while they made their transition from one spiritual leader to another. Sometimes their former priest was the beloved rector. Sometimes he or she was not so beloved.
Regardless of the case, there was always some element of a grieving process going on in that congregation. Interims were expected to allow that process to happen, and attend to any pastoral needs that might result from it. It was only when the congregation faced that that particular chapter in their life was now over that they could begin to dream about the future. There had to be a little death before there could be room for new life.
Sometimes, we fear these little deaths so much, that we are a bit too cautious. We hesitate to do anything new or risky. What if we fail? What if there isn’t enough? What if we make a mistake? We stick to the familiar, to the comfortable, because we are afraid of dying.
Barbara Brown Taylor, an author and an Episcopal priest, recently wrote a thoughtful article in the Christian Century entitled, “The Poured-Out Church”. I want to share part of it with you:
…when I consider my life of faith, this world is clearly where my transformation has taken place. It is in the world that I have met the people who have changed me—some of them believers, but far more of them not—people who have loved me, fought me, shamed me, forgiven me, sanding down my edges on one side while they broke whole ragged chunks of me off the other. The world is where I have been struck dumb by beauty, by cruelty, by human invention and greed. The world is where my notions of God have been destroyed, reformed, chastened, redeemed. The world is where I have occasionally been good for something and where I have done irreparable harm.
The reason I know this, however, is that the church has given me the eyes with which I see, as well as the words with which I speak. The church has given me a community in which to figure out what has happened to me in the world. It has given me a place to love and grieve, within a tradition far older and wiser than I. It is the church that has poured me into the world, in other words—which is counterintuitive. How can a church survive that keeps pouring itself into the world? I cannot possibly say. All I know is the gospel truth: those willing to give everything away are the ones with anything worth keeping; those willing to look death full in the face are the ones with the most abundant lives. Go figure...
“…those willing to look death full in the face are the ones with the most abundant lives.” Can we look death full in the face? Are we willing to pour ourselves into the world? Will we risk much for the sake of the Gospel?
We can. And we will. Because we are Christians. Because we do not live in fear of death. Because we are those who proclaim the power of the resurrection of Jesus Christ.
I’m not suggesting we be foolish. There’s a difference between being bold and risking much and being foolish. We are certainly called to be good stewards of the gifts God has given us.
But we must always remember that our mission field is out there in the world. And to be effective witnesses for God, we must pour ourselves into the world, even if it seems risky; even if it seems deadly.
How do we know where to pour ourselves out? In this morning’s Gospel, when those two processions met, one led by life, and one led by death, it was at the moment that Jesus was filled with compassion for the widow that everything was transformed. Life overcame death. Mourning was transformed into laughter and joy. This transformation began with compassion; with Jesus opening his heart to the grief of the mother. Where do we begin to pour ourselves out? In those places where people are hurting; in those places where we find ourselves moved to open our hearts and reveal the compassion of Christ.
Let us always remember that we do not exist for the sake of the Church. We exist for the sake of the world. We are called to pour ourselves out, driven by compassion for those who are hurting in this world. If that means we have to look death full in the face, so be it. Cannot God raise up something new from the ashes of our vanquished dreams?
Let us not live in fear of death, or the little deaths that each of us will face as we walk together with Christ in our midst. Let us be willing to risk much for the sake of the world, and proclaim with our every word and deed the healing power of God’s love.
Tuesday, March 20, 2007
Fourth Sunday in Lent
In this morning’s Gospel Jesus tells the parable that is commonly known as the story of the prodigal son. The term “prodigal” is defined as “being wastefully or recklessly extravagant.
I think that a more appropriate title for this story would be “the prodigal father,” as, from our perspective, I think it is the father who acts in a most extravagant manner.
The two sons in this story represent two rather typical ways that most people respond to treasures entrusted into their care. It is the classic distinction between those who see a half glass of water as either being half full or half empty. One of these brothers is an incurable optimist. The other is a stubborn pessimist.
One way to define a pessimist is to imagine that a child is placed in a room full of toys, and after an hour, is found sitting in a corner, not having touched one of the toys. When asked why he refused to play with them, he responds, “I knew I’d just break them.” A definition of an optimist would be to put another child in a room full of horse manure, and when you came back in an hour, you’d find the child digging like crazy. When you asked why he is digging, his response would be, “Well, with all this manure, I just know there’s a pony in here somewhere!”
I think that there are times when it is appropriate to be optimistic, but there are also times when it is prudent to be a bit pessimistic as well. In this morning’s Gospel the two brothers represent the extremes of these two perspectives. One is a foolish optimist. The other is a joyless pessimist.
The issue is their inheritance; the wealth they will receive from their father. One demands it, and then squanders it. The other accuses his father of wasting it on his worthless brother.
These two brothers are not that unusual. We probably all know someone who has come into an inheritance and managed to spend every penny in a short time. And we also probably know those who most likely still own the first nickel they ever earned.
Note that both of these sons are stewards, not the owners, of this wealth. Their inheritance was the result of their father’s labor. Being good stewards, caretakers of that entrusted to us by another, requires a mixture of optimism; the willingness to invest in the future, and pessimism, the wisdom to not invest foolishly.
What is reckless, and even extravagant, is the response of the father to both of his sons. He greets the one who has squandered his inheritance with joy, and throws a party to celebrate his homecoming. In response to his angry elder son, he invites him to set aside his preoccupation of what is fair and what is not, and join in the party.
The reckless extravagance of the father has nothing to do with the inheritance of material wealth. It is about what is lost being found. It is all about his love for his sons. It is about his relationship with his sons. It is about grace, the unmerited favor a father offered to his sons.
It is with this same grace, this same unmerited favor, that God responds to each of us. It doesn’t matter if we are inclined to be optimistic or pessimistic, a squanderer or a hoarder; God wants us all to come home and join the party.
In his book, A Passion for Pilgrimage, Dean Alan Jones offers these words about homecoming:
The Great Memory is simply this; God has fallen in love with you and wants you to come home! Our first memory is God's love for us, and it is this memory that has been buried and repressed. Your first memory (if only you could get back to it) is that of being God's joy and delight. Why is it difficult to remember the joy of our beginnings in the heart of God? I wonder if it has something to do with our unwillingness to face the fact of our limited future? Memory and hope are intimately related. Perhaps we cannot recall the love that brought us into being in the first place, because we cannot imagine a love strong enough to pull us through the gates of death. I refuse to remember, because I dare not hope. I refuse to remember and I dare not hope, because I am frightened and angry because I will have to change.
God is madly, head over heals in love with each and every one of us. And, as the people of God, it is with this same passionate love that we are called to greet every person who walks through our doors. It doesn’t matter if we think they are worthy. It doesn’t matter where they have come from. We rejoice that one who was lost has once again returned to the family of God, and we invite them to join in the celebration.
We who are already members of the church might consider ourselves in the role of the eldest son. Our culture would the younger son who has left home. The biggest challenge in this story is for the eldest son to accept the prodigal grace, the recklessly extravagant grace, of God. Our challenge is to accept that those who are new to the kingdom of God are seen as equals in God’s eyes with those of us who have worked in the kingdom for most of our lives. There is no pecking order in God’s kingdom. And that doesn’t seem fair, does it? It’s not. God’s free gift of grace is not fair. It is freely given to all.
During this season of Lent, let us seek to return to God, and rejoice with the heavenly hosts when those who once were without hope experience the depth of God’s love. This parable has no ending. We are not told how the older brother responds to his father’s invitation to join the party. The celebration pauses as the guests await the brother’s response, and our response as well. This morning God asks each of us what we will do in response to God’s recklessly extravagant grace.
May we observe a holy Lent, resulting in abundant Easter joy.
I think that a more appropriate title for this story would be “the prodigal father,” as, from our perspective, I think it is the father who acts in a most extravagant manner.
The two sons in this story represent two rather typical ways that most people respond to treasures entrusted into their care. It is the classic distinction between those who see a half glass of water as either being half full or half empty. One of these brothers is an incurable optimist. The other is a stubborn pessimist.
One way to define a pessimist is to imagine that a child is placed in a room full of toys, and after an hour, is found sitting in a corner, not having touched one of the toys. When asked why he refused to play with them, he responds, “I knew I’d just break them.” A definition of an optimist would be to put another child in a room full of horse manure, and when you came back in an hour, you’d find the child digging like crazy. When you asked why he is digging, his response would be, “Well, with all this manure, I just know there’s a pony in here somewhere!”
I think that there are times when it is appropriate to be optimistic, but there are also times when it is prudent to be a bit pessimistic as well. In this morning’s Gospel the two brothers represent the extremes of these two perspectives. One is a foolish optimist. The other is a joyless pessimist.
The issue is their inheritance; the wealth they will receive from their father. One demands it, and then squanders it. The other accuses his father of wasting it on his worthless brother.
These two brothers are not that unusual. We probably all know someone who has come into an inheritance and managed to spend every penny in a short time. And we also probably know those who most likely still own the first nickel they ever earned.
Note that both of these sons are stewards, not the owners, of this wealth. Their inheritance was the result of their father’s labor. Being good stewards, caretakers of that entrusted to us by another, requires a mixture of optimism; the willingness to invest in the future, and pessimism, the wisdom to not invest foolishly.
What is reckless, and even extravagant, is the response of the father to both of his sons. He greets the one who has squandered his inheritance with joy, and throws a party to celebrate his homecoming. In response to his angry elder son, he invites him to set aside his preoccupation of what is fair and what is not, and join in the party.
The reckless extravagance of the father has nothing to do with the inheritance of material wealth. It is about what is lost being found. It is all about his love for his sons. It is about his relationship with his sons. It is about grace, the unmerited favor a father offered to his sons.
It is with this same grace, this same unmerited favor, that God responds to each of us. It doesn’t matter if we are inclined to be optimistic or pessimistic, a squanderer or a hoarder; God wants us all to come home and join the party.
In his book, A Passion for Pilgrimage, Dean Alan Jones offers these words about homecoming:
The Great Memory is simply this; God has fallen in love with you and wants you to come home! Our first memory is God's love for us, and it is this memory that has been buried and repressed. Your first memory (if only you could get back to it) is that of being God's joy and delight. Why is it difficult to remember the joy of our beginnings in the heart of God? I wonder if it has something to do with our unwillingness to face the fact of our limited future? Memory and hope are intimately related. Perhaps we cannot recall the love that brought us into being in the first place, because we cannot imagine a love strong enough to pull us through the gates of death. I refuse to remember, because I dare not hope. I refuse to remember and I dare not hope, because I am frightened and angry because I will have to change.
God is madly, head over heals in love with each and every one of us. And, as the people of God, it is with this same passionate love that we are called to greet every person who walks through our doors. It doesn’t matter if we think they are worthy. It doesn’t matter where they have come from. We rejoice that one who was lost has once again returned to the family of God, and we invite them to join in the celebration.
We who are already members of the church might consider ourselves in the role of the eldest son. Our culture would the younger son who has left home. The biggest challenge in this story is for the eldest son to accept the prodigal grace, the recklessly extravagant grace, of God. Our challenge is to accept that those who are new to the kingdom of God are seen as equals in God’s eyes with those of us who have worked in the kingdom for most of our lives. There is no pecking order in God’s kingdom. And that doesn’t seem fair, does it? It’s not. God’s free gift of grace is not fair. It is freely given to all.
During this season of Lent, let us seek to return to God, and rejoice with the heavenly hosts when those who once were without hope experience the depth of God’s love. This parable has no ending. We are not told how the older brother responds to his father’s invitation to join the party. The celebration pauses as the guests await the brother’s response, and our response as well. This morning God asks each of us what we will do in response to God’s recklessly extravagant grace.
May we observe a holy Lent, resulting in abundant Easter joy.
Sunday, March 04, 2007
Second Sunday in Lent
Last week, we talked about temptation and personal sin. I mentioned that a good way to think about sin is to consider it as “twisted good.” Sin is a symptom of a spiritual dis-ease. The cure is to repent, to recognize that we have somehow allowed our focus to be turned to something else and to reorient our lives so that our focus is back on God. With God’s help, we can return to the good root.
That is an important part of what we do during the season of Lent. We seek out the sin in our lives, confess it, amend our lives, and turn our eyes once again toward God. That’s part of what we are called to do during this season, but that’s not the end of it. We don’t live in a vacuum. Our personal repentance is the beginning of our Lenten journey. Now we must look beyond ourselves. We look for the need for our larger community to repent and return to the Lord.
To some degree, cleaning up our personal lives is the easy part. Going out into the world with a message of repentance is a lot harder. But, unfortunately, if we are to be followers of Jesus Christ, I don’t think we have a choice.
In this morning’s Gospel, Jesus is warned that Herod is going to kill him. He does not waiver in his mission. He sets his face toward Jerusalem, and the cross. Neither can we hesitate when it comes to proclaiming the message of Christ to the world outside these walls.
The mission of the Church is to restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ. To Restore All People. We are Christians not only for our own sakes, but for the sake of the world.
It seems to me that one of the primary roles of any congregation is to "equip the saints for ministry." To some degree, we offer worship and Christian Education opportunities to prepare us for the work God has set before us. But so many times there seems to be a lot of equipping going on, but not a whole lot of ministry. It's as if sometimes we feel that we're not quite ready -- one more class, one more experience of the living God, or one more prayer, and then (and only then!) we'll go out into the world and proclaim the Good News.
In the Gospel According to Mark we hear of John the Baptizer boldly proclaiming repentance and forgiveness through Baptism. We hear also of John's confronting King Herod. I would imagine that more than a few of John's followers gulped hard before accompanying him. But John and his followers continued in their prophetic preaching, and their ministries were blessed by God.
We have been called to go forth into the world and bear witness to the healing power of God's love. Inspired by the prophetic ministries of the Old Testament prophets, John and Jesus, we bear witness in word and deed. And we always remember that with each step of the way, we will find Christ in our midst, who breathes the Spirit upon all disciples. That is all we need. We are ready for this mission, whether we know it or not. What are we waiting for?
Amidst the struggles that the Church faces today, there will be times as we venture out into the world when we are called to prophetic ministry. We must put our hope in Christ, and not shy away from this calling.
We are called to prophetic action. We are called to be the John the Baptists of the world, proclaiming the message, “Repent! For the kingdom of God is at hand!”
The image of John the Baptist may make some of us a bit uncomfortable. He is depicted in scripture as being a hard, angry man, usually delivering his message stridently. And maybe we have good reasons to question if such a strident way of proclaiming our message would be well received outside these walls.
Maybe there’s another way to express our prophetic role. Let’s return to the example of Jesus in this morning’s Gospel. Consider his response to Jerusalem, the beloved center of the world for all Israelites:"Jerusalem, Jerusalem," he says, "how often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!"
Jesus knows that he is going to Jerusalem, and will be will be rejected by the people. He knows what he is going to face there, that he will be arrested, suffer and be executed by his enemies. And yet, he weeps, not for himself but for the very people who will reject him. His heart breaks because he cares for them. He is willing to do whatever it takes to gather them under God’s wings. He weeps over Jerusalem, and all of humanity, because he has the heart of God. And God cares.
Those who follow Jesus, follow his example. At the root of the ministry of Jesus is love. And so, at the root of our message to the world must be God’s love. Two men were sitting at lunch one day when the topic of church came up. The first said that his congregation had a new preacher.
"What happened to the old one?" his friend asked.
"We didn’t much care for him, so he left."
"What didn’t you like about him?"
"It was his preaching," the man said. "He kept telling us we are sinners and that if we didn’t repent we would face the judgment of God."
"Oh," the second man said. "So what does the new one preach?"
"He tells us that we’re sinners and that if we don’t repent we will face the judgment of God."
The second man looked a little confused. "I don’t understand," he said. "What’s the difference?"
"The new one," his friend noted, "has tears in his eyes when he says it."
What was the difference between the two? The new one cared. The plight of people mattered enough for him to weep over their place before God.
Writing in a journal on ministry, William Easum once asked, "When was the last time your church leaders wept over the plight of your city instead of worrying about paying the bills?"
It is a good question isn’t it?
When was the last time we wept for the homeless men and women who live in camps just outside of our towns?
When was the last time we wept for the children who go to bed hungry every night?
When was the last time we wept over the people who have never heard the Good News of God in Christ?
When was the last time we wept because people refused to let God gather them under God’s wings?
Stepping into such a prophetic role will be difficult. We will make some people uncomfortable with our words and actions. No doubt this role was difficult for the prophets of the Old Testament as well, and John the Baptist handed over his very life to it. But if we have been called by God to this ministry, it is time to drop the excuses and go! The road may be hard, but the joy and peace we find on it will be deep, for our companion on the journey is Christ, who promised, "I am with you always, to the end of the age."
That is an important part of what we do during the season of Lent. We seek out the sin in our lives, confess it, amend our lives, and turn our eyes once again toward God. That’s part of what we are called to do during this season, but that’s not the end of it. We don’t live in a vacuum. Our personal repentance is the beginning of our Lenten journey. Now we must look beyond ourselves. We look for the need for our larger community to repent and return to the Lord.
To some degree, cleaning up our personal lives is the easy part. Going out into the world with a message of repentance is a lot harder. But, unfortunately, if we are to be followers of Jesus Christ, I don’t think we have a choice.
In this morning’s Gospel, Jesus is warned that Herod is going to kill him. He does not waiver in his mission. He sets his face toward Jerusalem, and the cross. Neither can we hesitate when it comes to proclaiming the message of Christ to the world outside these walls.
The mission of the Church is to restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ. To Restore All People. We are Christians not only for our own sakes, but for the sake of the world.
It seems to me that one of the primary roles of any congregation is to "equip the saints for ministry." To some degree, we offer worship and Christian Education opportunities to prepare us for the work God has set before us. But so many times there seems to be a lot of equipping going on, but not a whole lot of ministry. It's as if sometimes we feel that we're not quite ready -- one more class, one more experience of the living God, or one more prayer, and then (and only then!) we'll go out into the world and proclaim the Good News.
In the Gospel According to Mark we hear of John the Baptizer boldly proclaiming repentance and forgiveness through Baptism. We hear also of John's confronting King Herod. I would imagine that more than a few of John's followers gulped hard before accompanying him. But John and his followers continued in their prophetic preaching, and their ministries were blessed by God.
We have been called to go forth into the world and bear witness to the healing power of God's love. Inspired by the prophetic ministries of the Old Testament prophets, John and Jesus, we bear witness in word and deed. And we always remember that with each step of the way, we will find Christ in our midst, who breathes the Spirit upon all disciples. That is all we need. We are ready for this mission, whether we know it or not. What are we waiting for?
Amidst the struggles that the Church faces today, there will be times as we venture out into the world when we are called to prophetic ministry. We must put our hope in Christ, and not shy away from this calling.
We are called to prophetic action. We are called to be the John the Baptists of the world, proclaiming the message, “Repent! For the kingdom of God is at hand!”
The image of John the Baptist may make some of us a bit uncomfortable. He is depicted in scripture as being a hard, angry man, usually delivering his message stridently. And maybe we have good reasons to question if such a strident way of proclaiming our message would be well received outside these walls.
Maybe there’s another way to express our prophetic role. Let’s return to the example of Jesus in this morning’s Gospel. Consider his response to Jerusalem, the beloved center of the world for all Israelites:"Jerusalem, Jerusalem," he says, "how often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!"
Jesus knows that he is going to Jerusalem, and will be will be rejected by the people. He knows what he is going to face there, that he will be arrested, suffer and be executed by his enemies. And yet, he weeps, not for himself but for the very people who will reject him. His heart breaks because he cares for them. He is willing to do whatever it takes to gather them under God’s wings. He weeps over Jerusalem, and all of humanity, because he has the heart of God. And God cares.
Those who follow Jesus, follow his example. At the root of the ministry of Jesus is love. And so, at the root of our message to the world must be God’s love. Two men were sitting at lunch one day when the topic of church came up. The first said that his congregation had a new preacher.
"What happened to the old one?" his friend asked.
"We didn’t much care for him, so he left."
"What didn’t you like about him?"
"It was his preaching," the man said. "He kept telling us we are sinners and that if we didn’t repent we would face the judgment of God."
"Oh," the second man said. "So what does the new one preach?"
"He tells us that we’re sinners and that if we don’t repent we will face the judgment of God."
The second man looked a little confused. "I don’t understand," he said. "What’s the difference?"
"The new one," his friend noted, "has tears in his eyes when he says it."
What was the difference between the two? The new one cared. The plight of people mattered enough for him to weep over their place before God.
Writing in a journal on ministry, William Easum once asked, "When was the last time your church leaders wept over the plight of your city instead of worrying about paying the bills?"
It is a good question isn’t it?
When was the last time we wept for the homeless men and women who live in camps just outside of our towns?
When was the last time we wept for the children who go to bed hungry every night?
When was the last time we wept over the people who have never heard the Good News of God in Christ?
When was the last time we wept because people refused to let God gather them under God’s wings?
Stepping into such a prophetic role will be difficult. We will make some people uncomfortable with our words and actions. No doubt this role was difficult for the prophets of the Old Testament as well, and John the Baptist handed over his very life to it. But if we have been called by God to this ministry, it is time to drop the excuses and go! The road may be hard, but the joy and peace we find on it will be deep, for our companion on the journey is Christ, who promised, "I am with you always, to the end of the age."
First Sunday in Lent, February 24, 2007
As we enter this season of Lent, we are offered the story of Jesus’ temptation in the wilderness.
The three temptations that he faces symbolize many of the temptations that each of us face on a regular basis. This morning I want to look at each of them a little closer, in hopes of helping us be more prepared when we encounter them.
First of all, maybe I need to make it clear that we need to be very careful about confusing temptation with sin. Lots of different things might wander through our minds. Some of those thoughts might be quite ugly. We might be able to limit such thoughts by more closely monitoring what we let into our heads…what we watch on TV, what we read, the kinds of conversations we engage in, for instance. But I think we need to be clear that ugly thoughts wandering through our heads are not necessarily sinful. It is how we respond to such thoughts. Do we dwell on them? Do we act on them? Or do we let them just pass by?
Jesus was tempted, as we are. Yet he did not sin. He rejected those ugly thoughts.
The first temptation is to satisfy his hunger by turning stones into bread. Satisfying our physical appetites is a strong temptation for most people. And at its root is something that is not necessarily wrong.
To understand that, let me give you a definition of sin that I’ve found helpful. Sin is twisted good. At the root of every sin is something good. Sometimes when I hear the suggestion that the way to deal with sin is to cut it out over our lives, I find that idea making little sense to me. Do we really think we can surgically remove a part of ourselves without such a surgery affecting the rest of our being? I don’t think we can do that. We may be able to suppress those parts of who we are that we find tempts us to sin, but eventually it will come back to trouble us again.
I think a healthier way is to untwist the sin…to find its healthy root.
Let’s take for instance the temptation to satisfy our appetites. Often this arises out of the uncomfortable longing that most people experience for that elusive “something more.” We feel something missing. Life isn’t quite right. And so we seek some form of physical gratification to fill that void. Often whatever it is we use; food, sex, alcohol, drugs, whatever our particular temptation is, it seems to satisfy us for the moment, but eventually we find ourselves struggling with that same longing, now complicated by our possible feelings of guilt and remorse because of having given in to the temptation previously.
There’s nothing wrong in recognizing our longing for something more. Actually, that is a healthy thing. When tempted Jesus responded, “Man does not live by bread alone.” In another version of this story, he says, “man does not live by bread alone but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God.” This is what we truly long for…God. It is God who will fill that empty void.
Most times, there is nothing wrong with addressing our felt needs: our need for food, shelter, security, companionship. The problem comes when we confuse these things with our real needs, our eternal needs. As Thomas a Kempis said, we use things temporal, but we desire things eternal.
The next temptation Jesus faced was power. He was offered the rule of many kingdoms. Power and authority is a strong temptation for some of us. At its root is a desire to have some control of our lives…to assert some authority over those things we can control. This is not necessarily a bad thing. We could even say that it is an appropriate role for good stewards of God’s creation. The problem comes in when we begin to think that the power rests fully in us; that we rule instead of being stewards. The occasion of sin is when we try to play God.
The reality is that we are never in control, and we can never be God. But we are tempted to try. If we give in to that temptation, we might feel for awhile that we are God, but eventually we will come to realize that we have replaced God with another idol; something outside of ourselves that is driving us to seek power. Jesus’ response to this temptation is to say 'Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.'" We let God be God, and we serve as God’s stewards.
The last temptation grows out of the one before it. Once we realize that we are not God, there is the temptation to try to control God, to find ways to manipulate God’s power. I’d suggest to you that throughout history, one of the institutions that has given in to this temptation is the Church.
I’ll let you think about that one a little bit. For now let me just say that as Christians, we are not into magic, or magical thinking. We are not trying to manipulate God. Our intention is to become aware of the ways in which God is already manifest, the ways in which God is already among us. We are not summoning God to make an appearance here this morning through our prayers. God is already here, and always has been. The change happens within us; we grow to see God moving among us, and then join in God’s dance, usually referred to as doing God’s will in the world.
We do not put God to the test by trying to control or manipulate God. Instead, we seek out God among us, within each of us, and rolling through all things.
When faced with temptations, seek things eternal. Let God be God, and open your eyes to God’s presence among us.
May we observe a holy Lent, resulting in abundant Easter joy.
The three temptations that he faces symbolize many of the temptations that each of us face on a regular basis. This morning I want to look at each of them a little closer, in hopes of helping us be more prepared when we encounter them.
First of all, maybe I need to make it clear that we need to be very careful about confusing temptation with sin. Lots of different things might wander through our minds. Some of those thoughts might be quite ugly. We might be able to limit such thoughts by more closely monitoring what we let into our heads…what we watch on TV, what we read, the kinds of conversations we engage in, for instance. But I think we need to be clear that ugly thoughts wandering through our heads are not necessarily sinful. It is how we respond to such thoughts. Do we dwell on them? Do we act on them? Or do we let them just pass by?
Jesus was tempted, as we are. Yet he did not sin. He rejected those ugly thoughts.
The first temptation is to satisfy his hunger by turning stones into bread. Satisfying our physical appetites is a strong temptation for most people. And at its root is something that is not necessarily wrong.
To understand that, let me give you a definition of sin that I’ve found helpful. Sin is twisted good. At the root of every sin is something good. Sometimes when I hear the suggestion that the way to deal with sin is to cut it out over our lives, I find that idea making little sense to me. Do we really think we can surgically remove a part of ourselves without such a surgery affecting the rest of our being? I don’t think we can do that. We may be able to suppress those parts of who we are that we find tempts us to sin, but eventually it will come back to trouble us again.
I think a healthier way is to untwist the sin…to find its healthy root.
Let’s take for instance the temptation to satisfy our appetites. Often this arises out of the uncomfortable longing that most people experience for that elusive “something more.” We feel something missing. Life isn’t quite right. And so we seek some form of physical gratification to fill that void. Often whatever it is we use; food, sex, alcohol, drugs, whatever our particular temptation is, it seems to satisfy us for the moment, but eventually we find ourselves struggling with that same longing, now complicated by our possible feelings of guilt and remorse because of having given in to the temptation previously.
There’s nothing wrong in recognizing our longing for something more. Actually, that is a healthy thing. When tempted Jesus responded, “Man does not live by bread alone.” In another version of this story, he says, “man does not live by bread alone but by every word that proceedeth out of the mouth of God.” This is what we truly long for…God. It is God who will fill that empty void.
Most times, there is nothing wrong with addressing our felt needs: our need for food, shelter, security, companionship. The problem comes when we confuse these things with our real needs, our eternal needs. As Thomas a Kempis said, we use things temporal, but we desire things eternal.
The next temptation Jesus faced was power. He was offered the rule of many kingdoms. Power and authority is a strong temptation for some of us. At its root is a desire to have some control of our lives…to assert some authority over those things we can control. This is not necessarily a bad thing. We could even say that it is an appropriate role for good stewards of God’s creation. The problem comes in when we begin to think that the power rests fully in us; that we rule instead of being stewards. The occasion of sin is when we try to play God.
The reality is that we are never in control, and we can never be God. But we are tempted to try. If we give in to that temptation, we might feel for awhile that we are God, but eventually we will come to realize that we have replaced God with another idol; something outside of ourselves that is driving us to seek power. Jesus’ response to this temptation is to say 'Worship the Lord your God, and serve only him.'" We let God be God, and we serve as God’s stewards.
The last temptation grows out of the one before it. Once we realize that we are not God, there is the temptation to try to control God, to find ways to manipulate God’s power. I’d suggest to you that throughout history, one of the institutions that has given in to this temptation is the Church.
I’ll let you think about that one a little bit. For now let me just say that as Christians, we are not into magic, or magical thinking. We are not trying to manipulate God. Our intention is to become aware of the ways in which God is already manifest, the ways in which God is already among us. We are not summoning God to make an appearance here this morning through our prayers. God is already here, and always has been. The change happens within us; we grow to see God moving among us, and then join in God’s dance, usually referred to as doing God’s will in the world.
We do not put God to the test by trying to control or manipulate God. Instead, we seek out God among us, within each of us, and rolling through all things.
When faced with temptations, seek things eternal. Let God be God, and open your eyes to God’s presence among us.
May we observe a holy Lent, resulting in abundant Easter joy.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
Telephone Tree
Do you have news or prayer requests? If so, Vestry member Evie Brown can help you. Contact the parish office at 609-296-9618.
Boston Coffee Cakes
This is a popular annual fund raiser for Holy Spirit. Orders must be in by Sunday, March 4. Sign up for your cakes and take an order sheet if you can sell some to family, friends or neighbors. Each cake is 24 oz, costs $9.95 (of which the church receives 40%) and will arrive freshly baked for Palm Sunday.
The Craft Group
The Craft Group meets on Wednesdays from 10 am to 3 pm. Everyone is welcome. Bring your lunch; coffee, tea, soda are available. Our current year's outreach project is making lap robes for Meadowview Nursing Home. If you knit or crochet, but can't come on Wednesdays and would like to work on this project from home, let us know. We can supply you with yarn.
Card and Game Party, March 5
On Monday, March 5 from noon to 4:00 pm, bring a snack to share to the church and let the fun begin!
World Day of Prayer
On March 2, churches in the Tuckerton area will gather at 2:00 pm at the Good Shepherd Lutheran Church, located on the corner of Mathistown Road and Highway 9. Everyone is invited.
Thursday Night "Equipping the Saints" Class
Please join us for a study of the third volume of The Church's Teaching Series, The Practice of Prayer, by Margaret Guenther. The study of this particular volume is especially appropriate as part of your Lenten discipline. We begin at 6:30 pm in the library. Books are available from Fr. Terry.
"Welcome to the Episcopal Church" Class
This class meets on Sundays at noon in the undercroft (downstairs hall). This is a class to help us learn more about what it means to be an Episcopalian. Everyone is welcome, newcomers and those seeking a refresher course.
Lenten Program, Fridays During Lent
5:45 - Evening Prayer
6:00 - Simple meal (soup and bread provided)
6:15 - Program: "Groundwork - Digging Deep for Change and Growth" - The goal of Groundwork is to encourage personal and congregational transformation, to ask our members and leaders to dig deeply into the soil of our mission and context so that we may engage in serious and joyful learning about evangelism and service.
6:00 - Simple meal (soup and bread provided)
6:15 - Program: "Groundwork - Digging Deep for Change and Growth" - The goal of Groundwork is to encourage personal and congregational transformation, to ask our members and leaders to dig deeply into the soil of our mission and context so that we may engage in serious and joyful learning about evangelism and service.
Sunday, October 22, 2006
Nothing Like A Professional
A woman was at work when she received a phone call that her small daughter was very sick with a fever.
She left her work and stopped by the pharmacy to get some medication. She got back to her car and found that she had locked her keys inside!
She didn’t know what to do, so she called home and told the baby sitter what had happened. The baby sitter told her that the fever was getting worse. She said, “You might find a coat hanger and use that to open the door.”
The woman looked around and found an old rusty coat hanger that had been left on the ground, possibly by someone else who at some time had locked their keys in their car. She looked at the hanger and said, “I don’t know how to use this.”
She bowed her head and asked God to send her help. Within five minutes a beat up old motorcycle pulled up, with a dirty, greasy, bearded man who was wearing an old biker skull rag on his head.
The woman thought, “This is what you sent to help me?”
But she was desperate, so she was also very thankful.
The man got off of his cycle and asked if he could help.
She said, “Yes, my daughter is very sick. I stopped to get her some medication and I locked my keys in my car. I must get home to her. Please, can you use this hanger to unlock my car?
He said, “Sure.” He walked over to the car, and in less than a minute the car was opened. She hugged the man and through her tears she said, “Thank you so much! You are a very nice man!”
The man replied, “Lady, I am not a nice man. I just got out of prison today. I was in prison for car theft and have only been out for about an hour.”
The woman hugged the man again and with sobbing tears cried out loud,
“Oh, Thank you, Lord! You even sent me a professional!”
She left her work and stopped by the pharmacy to get some medication. She got back to her car and found that she had locked her keys inside!
She didn’t know what to do, so she called home and told the baby sitter what had happened. The baby sitter told her that the fever was getting worse. She said, “You might find a coat hanger and use that to open the door.”
The woman looked around and found an old rusty coat hanger that had been left on the ground, possibly by someone else who at some time had locked their keys in their car. She looked at the hanger and said, “I don’t know how to use this.”
She bowed her head and asked God to send her help. Within five minutes a beat up old motorcycle pulled up, with a dirty, greasy, bearded man who was wearing an old biker skull rag on his head.
The woman thought, “This is what you sent to help me?”
But she was desperate, so she was also very thankful.
The man got off of his cycle and asked if he could help.
She said, “Yes, my daughter is very sick. I stopped to get her some medication and I locked my keys in my car. I must get home to her. Please, can you use this hanger to unlock my car?
He said, “Sure.” He walked over to the car, and in less than a minute the car was opened. She hugged the man and through her tears she said, “Thank you so much! You are a very nice man!”
The man replied, “Lady, I am not a nice man. I just got out of prison today. I was in prison for car theft and have only been out for about an hour.”
The woman hugged the man again and with sobbing tears cried out loud,
“Oh, Thank you, Lord! You even sent me a professional!”
Friday, September 29, 2006
Our Big Day
A big day in the life of our parish happens tomorrow, Saturday, September 30th, 2006, when we will welcome our bishop, +George Councell, and together with him celebrate the new ministry of our Vicar. We will also give thanks for our new building and dedicate it for the use of our parish. The celebration begins at three pm in the former St. Theresa's RC church on Main Street in Tuckerton, which is now known as The Church of the Holy Spirit, Episcopal.
Come, Holy Ghost
Creator blest
And in our hearts take up Thy rest.
Come with Thy grace
And heavenly aid
To fill the hearts
Which Thou hast made
To fill the hearts
Which Thou hast made.
Come, Holy Ghost
Creator blest
And in our hearts take up Thy rest.
Come with Thy grace
And heavenly aid
To fill the hearts
Which Thou hast made
To fill the hearts
Which Thou hast made.
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