sermonoats: Saint Matthew's Tucson

Showing posts with label Saint Matthew's Tucson. Show all posts

Tuesday, May 23, 2023

permeance

In preparation for officiating at a wedding I consulted a long out-of-print book, The Oxford American Prayer Book Commentary, and in the marriage rite I found a prayer that begins,

O ETERNAL God, Creator and Preserver of all mankind, Giver of all spiritual grace, the Author of everlasting life; (1928 BCP Marriage)

Reflecting on that prayer, I realized that it applied well beyond that moment - that special moment indeed when we invite the blessing of the spirit upon the now-to-be wed couple. It applies to all sorts of occasions. And I noted that the spirit, the holy spirit, is there in the marriage rite, as it is in pastoral and episcopal offices of all kinds, from marriage to baptism to burial, reconciliation of a penitent and ministrations to the sick or dying, from confirmation to ordination to the celebration of a new ministry and the consecration of a sacred space. Some of these may come up soon in this congregation.

And of course in our new (1979) prayer book all of these rites and offices take place in the context of the community that is gathered in the Eucharist. We are one body, and we are one in the Spirit.

The Spirit gives us utterance in different ways, expressions in different gifts. The Spirit gives us understanding and inspiration in different ways and by different means. This is the one Spirit that God breathed upon the waters at creation, that inspired ecstatic prophesying - dancing and exclaiming in praise - inside and outside the camp on Sinai, that frightened the prophet Joel.

This is the same Spirit that reversed the babble of the Tower into coherent speech for a diverse multitude on the first day of the church, the day of Pentecost.

It’s amazing! It’s as if you’ve been running around a foreign country and you’ve finally bumped into people who are speaking your language.

We remember, as every school child must, that the feast of Pentecost expands for us the meaning of an earlier festival, the Jewish feast of Shavuot, that was a harvest feast at first, then became the day of thanksgiving for the giving of the Law to the people, through Moses, on Sinai.

How is the gift of Law, of Torah, to a distant people at a distant time, almost mythical, to help us today? How is the experience of the gathered disciples and their hearers on the day of Pentecost, two thousand years ago, to make a difference to us now?

Will we, gathered or scattered, hear, each in our own heart language, the word of God? Will we be inspired? Will we act - apparently crazy - as the Israelites did, dancing and singing and praising God? Will we - apparently sober - go out and do the things Jesus commanded us to do?

Will we visit the sick, pray with the despairing, speak out for justice, reach out to the lonely? Will we listen to each other in solemn assembly, seeking the guidance of the Spirit in our decisions?

Will we have reason to? And how will we encounter the Spirit in our own life and times?

The Rev. Kaji Douša, senior pastor at Park Avenue Christian Church in New York City, traveled to Tijuana, Mexico, in 2018 to provide pastoral care to asylum seekers. Douša has said, “To reject a migrant is to cast away God’s angels, which I am unwilling to do.” https://theconversation.com/when-faith-says-to-help-migrants-and-the-law-says-dont-203087

On the border now they talk of encounters with migrants, asylum seekers, refugees, and the desperate wanderers who lose their way. Encounters. Better perhaps than simply saying arrests, as many have entertained angels unawares. This week I encountered a man who asked directions to the bus station. I gave them to him. Then I thought, too late, that I could have given him a ride in the heat of the day.

There is a story in the book of Genesis. In the heat of the day, while he was sitting in the door of his tent, Abraham encountered three men, strangers to him, who came to him at the Oaks of Mamre, and he offered them hospitality. The hospitality of his tent, his household, his family.

Genesis 18:1-15, (21:1-7)

Sometimes all someone asks of us is directions. Sometimes we are offered the chance to do much more. If we have eyes to see. The three strangers were indeed grateful for the hospitality they received and in turn gave a blessing only they could give. Your wife, they said, will at last bear to you the child you both have sought. And that child - through its descendants - will become the host of the world.

We do not meet God in the person of three angels, dressed as strangers who wander through the desert. (Do we?) We do not meet Jesus in the flesh. (Though sometimes we wonder.)

The Holy Spirit is the God we encounter. We have not seen the Father, and Jesus, since his Ascension, has left us in the care of the Comforter, the Advocate, the Teacher; the one who comes alongside us, and yet remains unseen. Unseen, that is, except through permeance.

Permeating through all of our encounters with each other, and, all unawares, with angels. Pervading too all our days, ordinary and especially significant.

Look through the prayer book pastoral offices and you will see the Spirit landing upon the baptized, inhabiting the confirmed, blessing the married, consoling the bereaved and accompanying the sick even unto the death bed. And it is the Spirit of God that enables us in turn to comfort, celebrate, cajole, and encourage, the baptized, the married, the bereaved, the sick and dying, the joyous and even the oblivious.

Look through the Episcopal offices and you will see the Spirit invoked upon the ordained, and the presence of the Spirit called upon to bless new ministries and sacred places.

Listen as we celebrate Eucharist, or say our daily prayers. You will hear the Spirit speaking. For the Spirit is here present among us, and through that invisible permeating influence God is here.

Hear the Word. Touch the cup. Taste the bread. Say “peace” to your neighbor. Come Holy Spirit. Come to us. Amen.

***

Sunday, May 28, 2023: for the Episcopal Church of Saint Matthew, Tucson, Arizona.

permeance

'Cause I feel like I-I've been running around a foreign country and I've finally bumped into two people who can speak English. (https://transcripts.thedealr.net/script.php/yesterday-2019-XtmS)

Veni Sancte Spiritus (Taizé) Come Holy Spirit... https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l8yOAxWyfvA

A meditation based on this sermon appeared on the Arizona Daily Star website June 4th 2023: https://tucson.com/lifestyles/faith-and-values/encounters-with-the-spirit-are-all-around-us/article_a00ae510-ff02-11ed-a83c-2788b4905516.html

The Lessons Appointed for Use on the Day of Pentecost (Whitsunday) Year A:

O God, who on this day taught the hearts of your faithful people by sending to them the light of your Holy Spirit: Grant us by the same Spirit to have a right judgment in all things, and evermore to rejoice in his holy comfort; through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.Amen.

Sunday, December 26, 2021

small words

In the name of God, source of all Being, eternal Word, and holy Spirit. Small words. Big meanings. Spirit. Word. Being. God.

Our first words as children sound small and seem simple. Hot, cold, brother, sister, mine, papa. Mama. But the meanings loom large. When we are small, is there anything more important than what those small words convey?

The first words of the gospel of John are small words.

Small words. Large meanings. Light. Life. Word. Flesh.

And then there are the words at the beginning of the four gospels. Matthew begins with a genealogy. Luke begins with birth announcements. Mark starts straight out with the Baptist in the wilderness. The gospel of John begins, “in the beginning” - or rather before.

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The Word was with God in the beginning. Everything came into being through the Word, and without the Word nothing came into being. What came into being through the Word was life, and this life was the light for all people. The light still shines in the darkness and the darkness has never put it out… The Word became a human being and lived among us. We have seen his glory, glory like that of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.” John 1:1-4, 14.

What this passage has personally meant to me has changed and grown over the years since I first read it. In high school days, “read the gospel of John first” was common advice to prospective converts.

This advice held for many years for me, until at the suggestion of Carl F. H. Henry, the Key ‘73 initiative chose Luke-Acts for widespread distribution.

Luke has the familiar Christmas story, with angels and shepherds and all. And Matthew has the magi.

Inter-Varsity used to tell people to read Mark first as the shortest and earliest. Read it without notes or advice, they said, as if it were in a sealed envelope you were opening for the first time.

Which would leave us to read it each with our own peculiar prejudices - or ones easily supplied.

John however is admittedly abstract - where are we? In the cosmic vision of Christ Pantocrator, all-ruler, as in those Byzantine ceilings. His serene serious visage looms over us, grand and remote. The human Jesus appears later in John, but appear he does.

At first though we have some basic precepts to lay down. The creator is not remote; he is Emmanuel: God with us.

Jesus was there from the beginning, in fact the beginning of all things began with him: he was already there and all that came into being came through him. Whoa! Heady concept. And how cool is that?

At least I thought so, as a teenager. And I thought I’d got it. At least a grasp on the coattails. How long could I, have I, chewed over the meaning of this passage ever since? And how long and how often have you?

However often we hear it we just seem to spiral deeper into its meaning. Once, some Sundays ago, Deacon Jefferson Bailey and I agreed that when we read the gospel in church, every time it says something new to us - and with the prolog to the gospel of John something deeper emerges.

Indeed I like what Lesslie Newbigin calls it: not so much a prolog (as to a Shakespeare play) as an overture, as to an opera. And indeed John has everything in it - except the kitchen sink.

Though it comes close even to that.

The whole cosmos - the whole created order - is in there for sure, in just the first five sentences.

Julian’s hazelnut or cosmologist’s infinitesimal particle have nothing on John: before it began, he was - he, Jesus, as the Son of God, pre-existed, existed before, anything was made that was made… and so the mind-blowing (as we said in the sixties) phrase … ‘and all that came into being came into being through him.’

Through him all things came to be. The logos, “the eternal word manifest in the reason and order of the cosmos of which it was the creative agent,” was not a new concept to first-century people.

(Massey Shepherd, The Oxford American Prayer Book Commentary, 1963, 97)

But now– something new. The Word has become flesh, and dwelt among us.

It all sounds so abstract: source of all being, eternal Word, holy Spirit.

If you had asked Mary on December 26th if it felt abstract you might have gotten a short answer. Joseph might remark that the organizing principle of the cosmos had just wet himself.

[We have just heard on Christmas Eve the story of the manger, about the humanness of Jesus, and all of heaven’s glory in a little room. Shepherds kept their watch by night; and angels sang.]

“This pre-existent, eternal and divine word has now been manifested in the flesh, in the person of Jesus Christ. And that life gives not only light to the understanding,” - intellectual knowledge - “that we may know the truth, but also power to the will, that we may be obedient sons [children] of God. For in Him [Christ] the glory of God was revealed in the fullness of ‘grace and truth.’”

(Massey Shepherd, The Oxford American Prayer Book Commentary, 97)

Words. Simple, small, profound: light, life, truth, grace. All in Him.

Water, air, breath, earth, sun : light and life.

Brother, mother, family, friend, guest : simple small words.

The great ideas are learned early. And last.

In our lives, in our lives in Christ.

The simple small words of the Gospel, repeated, almost redundant, like the cards laid on the table one by one, or bricks laid one at a time, row by row – or stones, building slowly, row by row, into a great temple.

Mind, spirit, heart.

The word, eternal, became flesh, and his tabernacle, his tent of meeting, he raised in the midst of the camp, as the sacred central place in the midst of the people of Israel on Sinai. With us he dwells and so we see his Glory. Glory - light, shining, and more than light: life in essential union with its source.

Now this little child is revealed in radiance, in sharp contrast to Caesar Augustus, as far from Roman pomp as what the planet is really all about: a power and a weakness that mean eternal, abundant life, and a light that both illuminates and empowers.

It is all a bit much for the parents of a small creature, weighing a handful of pounds, and not yet the handful he will become by the age of twelve… (Remember him in the Temple quizzing the elders?) … or the powerful teacher he will be as a full-grown man.

Here in the swaddling clothes is the mystery of the universe. A feeling common to many parents. Donald Nicholl said that a man gets serious when he becomes a father. (Dorothy, his wife, said for a woman it's as soon as she gets married.) And certainly things got serious for the first family almost immediately: shepherds, angels, soldiers, journey at night.

Right now, this morning after Christmas morning, we remember the child, and the infinite possibility he seems to awaken in us, an infinite possibility for hope and joy. And love.

And so as the light has come among us in this little child, this awesome beginning, we can say some more simple words, words Dag Hammarsjkold jotted down in his diary:

For all that has been— Thanks!
To all that will be— Yes!

(Hammarskjöld, Markings: 6, 83).

May it be so. Always. Amen.

The Overture of Light and Life

2021 12 26

https://www.episcopalchurch.org/lectionary/christmas-1/

Almighty God, you have poured upon us the new light of your incarnate Word: Grant that this light, enkindled in our hearts, may shine forth in our lives; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

https://www.lectionarypage.net/YearABC/Christmas/Christmas1.html

First Sunday after Christmas

Episcopal Church of Saint Matthew, Tucson, Arizona. 8:00 am & 10:30 am.

https://stmatthew.azdiocese.org/ sermon on the youtube

(17:15-30:00)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lcR12Z13dhE

Saturday, March 14, 2020

the water that connects us

This is a sermon in Lent, so the theme of the lessons, and especially the gospel, is Baptism. First of all. But there is something deeper than baptism, deeper than sacrament, even: what sacraments represent.

As wise commentators have observed, behind the symbol is the reality. Behind water, Spirit. And in the story of the woman at the well, we see God’s grace at work and the providence we rely on.

Jacob needed water. People do. And so do their flocks, if they have them. Jacob received the gift of sustenance for his needs. What remained and continued was the symbol and the reality that co-intwine to show us God at work.

People need water - and God provides it. And if we co-operate with God, as Jacob did, as Moses did, as the woman at the well did, we may find a deeper thirst supplied. Not just today, for ever.

The people of Israel were complaining in the desert. Did you bring us out here to die of thirst? God did not simply open the heavens. Take your staff, Moses; the staff with which you struck the Nile, and strike the rock at Horeb. I will be there before you.

The staff with which he struck the rock is the staff that Moses used so many times as it, and he, became the instruments of God. Through creation, and through the actions of this faithful man, the people received what they need - for all their anxiety, all their worry.

When we confront a lack, a profound need, we as people of God know that we are not alone. In the midst of suffering, we are not alone. God is with us. We may not pass through the trial unhurt but we will pass through it together, with God and each other.

And that is where we find grace. The story, the bread, the wine, the water, the oil, and each other these we have with us always. And behind any symbol, any gift, any lack, even, are the Word that becomes flesh and dwells among us and the Spirit that sustains us - and we will be all right.

How does this show up in John’s Gospel? In the person of Jesus, the ultimate self-revelation of the Father. “Throughout John’s Gospel, the key to salvation - and so the door to eternal life - is recognizing who Jesus is and responding with loving obedience.”

To put my theme simply, Jesus is real - and he can change your life.

It sure happened to the Samaritan woman. Slowly, and then all at once, she became rich in the grace of heaven.

At first she just thought she met a guy at a well, at the unlikely hour of noon. Then she began to interrogate him, to come closer, and to find out who he really is. It took her a while, as it does most of us.

Sir, I perceive that you are a prophet.

But more than that, greater than that, she could not tell, until she brought the whole town alive with the news: “Come and see a man who told me everything I have ever done!”

A brave disclosure: they know who she is, without prophetic help. But she says it, freely, and more: she has begun to wonder if he is not really in fact “greater than our ancestor Jacob” - the one who found the water in the well the first time. “Can this be he? The Restorer - the anointed one - that we have been waiting for all these years?”

Other stranger voices will call out, “I know you son of God! When will you restore Israel?”

But the people gather here at the well, at the source, as it turns out, at the source of life itself: they gather in the presence of Jesus.

And they learn he is more than that, more than a man at a well, more than a prophet, greater than their ancestor, greater than their preconceptions of the one anointed to restore their people only: “this is truly the Savior of the world.”

Now I want some of that water. I want some of that Spirit. I want some of that Presence.

And he is present. Jesus is real and he can change your life.

You may or may not have a bucket, or a well, or cupped hands, or in fact any visible water at all. What you have is the living Word of God.

Behind symbol is reality. Yes there is a well, still, and water. Yes, there is bread - and there is wine. There is oil for anointing and there are prayers for healing. We are present together - or in a phone call, or even a text. But behind all these vehicles of grace, these visible tangible audible symbols, is a spiritual reality. Not a passive, recumbent essence, but an active power, of God.

The power is not in the staff but in the word of God, not in the symbol, however wonderful, but in the spiritual reality.

And when we remember that we are home.

Whether we are together or for a time separated, by distance or contagion, we are home, in the presence and power of God.

Here is something I learned from my college advisor, Donald Nicholl. After he served as a teacher in various universities including mine he went on to direct the Ecumenical Institute at Tantur by Jerusalem. His job was to host scholars from various traditions, and to see that they got along together.

Building community, for Christians, means gathering for prayer, for word and sacrament. But what if you cannot take the sacrament together? The problem he faced, in his time, was that Catholics were supposed to take communion with Catholics, only, and not with Protestants. The Protestants had similar difficulties. It was not something to brush aside or “power through”.

So he thought, at first, well, I won’t take communion when others can’t. So he didn’t go up to the altar when Protestants celebrated. And he didn’t go up when Catholics celebrated.

And then he realized, I’m not going up at all! And I’m the leader of this community. This won’t work. So he decided, and in those analog days tacked up a notice on the community bulletin board, announcing his decision - and our insight:

When you take communion you take it not for yourself only: you take it for everyone, especially those who cannot go up to the altar rail with you, as part of a community, …

… and as we know, that community is worldwide, and robust, sustained through place and time, carrying forward the work of the Spirit and rejoicing in the power of God.

Suzanne Guthrie. At the Edge of the Enclosure. http://www.edgeofenclosure.org/lent3a.html

Donald Nicholl. The Testing of Hearts. London, 1989.

The Rt. Rev. Gregory H. Rickel, Bishop of Olympia. A Pastoral Letter: “Co-operating” in the Wilderness. http://bishoprickel.com/ (Saturday 14 March 2020).

Scott Gambrill Sinclair, The Past from God's Perspective: A Commentary on John's Gospel, North Richland Hills, TX: BIBAL Press, 2004, page 69.

For Saint Matthew's Episcopal Church, Tucson, Arizona. https://stmatthew.azdiocese.org/

https://www.facebook.com/saintmatthewtucson/videos/193997745378421/