Last week was Legacy Sunday at St Albans. We addressed these questions: What is it that we have that we wish to pass on to future generations? What is of most value and meaning to us? What have we received that we must also pass on?
Next week we celebrate the Feast of Saint Alban, our patron saint. He left us a legacy of hospitality, courage, and faith, and of honesty and integrity.
This week, we look at how God’s reign means that everyone is of value and justice and mercy apply to all. The love of God is for everybody.
We celebrate the last day of the program year in the Sunday School and adult education. Sunday School and the adult Education Hour resume in the fall on the first Sunday after Labor Day. We celebrate the students and we celebrate the teachers and the director of our Sunday School program. We celebrate with graduating seniors.
All of this is about what we celebrate every week – the faith that we have received from others that we also pass on to those coming along after us, both those among us now and those we are yet to, or may never, meet, who will come after this time.
A penitent woman, a sinner of Christ’s own redeeming, the woman who anoints his feet: this is the person who recognizes the gift of grace in today’s gospel reading.
Simon, a Pharisee, curious, invites Jesus to dine at his home. Jesus comes and in the fashion of the time reclines at table, a horseshoe shaped low table, in the atrium (or open courtyard) of Simon’s house.
Then a woman comes in; not invited, she is expected to wait patiently in the shadows until the meal is over and then, perhaps, to gather up left over food or ask a favor of one of the invited guests. That is the custom. She breaks it.
She comes right up to Jesus. Apparently she intends to do what the host of the dinner has forgotten to do. She means to anoint his head – she has brought oil for the purpose, in a jar of alabaster no less – and to wash his feet. This is her intent. But she breaks down.
Instead of anointing his head with the oil, and washing his feet with water and drying them with a towel, her tears fall upon his feet and she then wipes his feet with her own hair, and, finally, anoints his feet with the perfumed oil. This is extraordinary, sensuous and remarkable.
What she has done is in sharp contrast to what Simon has done. Her attitude toward Jesus and how she behaves toward him are those of grateful love, of someone showing in action the release from a burden that they feel inside.
A broken and a contrite heart, O God, thou wilt not despise, said the Psalmist (51.17). Jesus responds to the woman with compassion and grace.
Simon the Pharisee, perhaps embarrassed that he has failed as host or just amused by this woman’s action, remarks (in his own mind) on the contrast between the man of God, the prophet Jesus is presumed to be, and the sinner, the woman of notorious reputation.
If he were a prophet, Simon says to himself, he would keep far away from her, for he would want to preserve his righteousness untainted by her sin. But Jesus breaks the rules.
He is a prophet and more than a prophet, more than Elijah or the baptizer John. What he does is to speak and to embody – to proclaim and to bring into reality – the good news of the kingdom of heaven.
It is present here in this place, in this time, in his action and his word; it is present in him.
By contrast to the attitude of Simon toward the woman, Jesus speaks and acts with compassion. He offers to her a word of grace. He defends her before the eyes of the worldly watchers at the table. And he tells her that her faith has made her right with God – her sins are forgiven. Go in peace, he says.
“Who is this who even forgives sins?”
Jesus’ fellow guests are asking the right question. Who is this?
It is the one who does not try to preserve his status intact, who does not try to preserve the status quo out of fear of scarcity, but the one who responds out of the abundance of grace to the grateful heart of the repentant sinner, the one who gives away that all might live, the one who said, in the Gospel according to Luke,
"Give away your life; you'll find life given back, but not merely given back—given back with bonus and blessing. Giving, not getting, is the way. Generosity begets generosity." (Luke 6:38, The Message)
Who is this? It is the one who brings life, and brings it abundantly. It is the Lord.
"Give away your life; you'll find life given back, but not merely given back—given back with bonus and blessing. Giving, not getting, is the way. Generosity begets generosity." (Luke 6:38, The Message)
Simon sought to preserve intact a status, a static state he called righteousness. Jesus by contrast called on him to move forward into a dynamic future, a future with hope, in a faith in God's abundant grace.
The woman with the alabaster jar - she did incredible things, inexplicable things, extravagant things. Extravagant, incredible, inexplicable - unless you take into account who Jesus is. Who she knew he was.
Who is this? It is the one who brings life, and brings it abundantly. It is the Lord.
Blessed one, bless us, in the breaking of the bread, in the pouring of the wine, in the water that washes us in baptism. Bless us in the fellowship of faith, bless us with your ongoing presence in the Spirit. Bless us in the Word and in the deeds that show our grateful hearts in praise and love respond to you.
Give us this day the bread we need, the grace we have least to expect, and the power to move forward together in the name of Christ. Amen.
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The Third Sunday after Pentecost 2010
1 Kings 21:1-21a, Psalm 5:1-8, Galatians 2:15-21, Luke 7:36-8:3
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Saturday, June 12, 2010
Sunday, June 6, 2010
Legacy Sunday 2010
What is it that we have to pass on? What is it that really matters? What is it that will last, beyond ourselves, into the future of the promise of God?
In the name of God, source of all being, eternal word, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
On the river last Monday, as Sarah and I were in our canoe sitting by a dock, we saw coming up the river a young woman in a large-brimmed straw hat, standing in the middle of a canoe, with a pole in her hand. It was our cousin Mary and she was poling her canoe upriver. She looked, Sarah said, like a picture that could have been out of the 19th century - had she been wearing a long dress instead of a more modern boating costume. And it was true; Mary was poling up the river just as she had been taught by her grandmother, whose own mother had indeed, pole in hand, in long tweed skirt, a Liberty print blouse with a Peter Pan collar, and a cardigan sweater - and pearls, traveled up that same river, standing in a canoe, propelling herself with a pole. The skill was taught them by an Ojibway river guide (and canoe builder) named Laroque. Great grandmother learned, then grandmother learned; then Grammy taught her daughters and grand daughters. And the knowledge of the river and the skill of the pole were passed along, a living tradition, from generation to generation. Were passed along; are passed along; will be passed along.
A living tradition is something we pass along, something that gives strength, something that gives skill and even power, to those coming along.
The first disciples, the witnesses to the life and death and resurrection and ascension of our Lord, passed along what they had seen and what they had heard, what they had touched with their hands and embraced in their arms, to those who came along after them. And what they received they also passed on. To you.
What we have received we must also pass along. And we must decide what matters, what matters most, and that is what we must make sure to share with the new generations that are coming along.
What is it that matters most to us? What is it that will last?
What we know, what we have received, as church, as the family of God, always sustains us through these several elements: the sacred Word, the story of the love of God for humankind; the water of Baptism, in which we receive a sign of new life in Christ; the wine and the bread, transformed for us and, received in faith, transforming us ourselves into the body of Christ; and then the gift of each other, that Body of which we are all members; and - the Holy Spirit, in which all this lives and moves and has its being.
These are things that we have received, that we live by, that we pass on. These things are all gifts given us to give others, to share with them the grace and peace of God.
For on the night before he was betrayed our Lord took the bread and blessed and broke it and distributed it to his friends, saying, this is my body broken for you: remember me whenever you do this. And at the end of the meal he took wine in a cup and passed it around, having first blessed it and said, this is my blood, shed for you, and for many, for the forgiveness of sins. Whenever you drink it, remember me.
In the first reading this morning we are confronted with a great man of God, Elijah the prophet, leader of the resistance by the followers of the Lord, as their own king turned from worship of the one true living God to the worship of idols, false gods, known as Ba'al. Elijah confronted the king, named Ahab, and said these words of power:
‘As the Lord the God of Israel lives, before whom I stand, there shall be neither dew nor rain these years, except by my word.’ (1 Kings 17:1)
That was enough to get the message across to the king. Then Elijah following the Lord's command left the royal presence and travelled east of the Jordan to a stream called Cherith. There for a while he was safe, and survived, on food the Lord provided. The drought and the famine had come upon the land, however, and so eventually the stream dried up. Elijah gathered himself together and began walking, west and north. He left his homeland behind.
Eventually he made his way over toward the coast in the land of Sidon, where he came into a village.
A woman was there, and he approached. May I have some water? And, exhausted, famished, at his last strength, he asked one more gift. Could you give me even a morsel of bread?
She was famished too. She was down to the last of the food. She was at the end of her rope. She was a widow with one child, a son, and they were both about to have their last meal.
And yet, hearing his assurance of the Lord God's promise, this woman, outside of Israel, answered him. Yes. This is the last I have, but here--have this bit of food and water. And so they both began to regain their strength.
The book of Kings tells us they did not run out of food for many days. And then the worst blow fell. Her son, her only son,--had no life in him. What have you done? she cried. Why have you visited the wrath of my sins upon me? Why?
And Elijah, distressed, stretched himself upon the body --and prayed. God, bring this boy back to life.
And the boy lived, and the prophet gave the woman back her son.
On the strength of that encounter, that saving and sustaining grace, Elijah went in the power of the Spirit back to Israel and defeated the priests of the false worship. He did great and powerful things, or more accurately, prayer saw them happen in the will of God.
Jesus referred to this story of the widow and Elijah, when he spoke in the synagogue at Nazareth, his hometown. The widow of Zarephath was the one to whom the Lord sent Elijah, the prophet of God. And it was in her house that the real miracle began. It began with a little thing, that you could hold in your hand. More spectacular things were to follow; but first there was a handful of meal and an alabaster jar of oil, and a little morsel of faith.
From that small beginning came greater things. In the little feast they shared between them, the widow and the prophet laid a foundation of faith that God built upon, rebuilding the faith of the people of Israel. (It was like the feeding of five thousand people with five loaves and two fishes.) Small beginnings, greater ends; simple things, made holy.
Jesus had told this story, and then moved on. He came to Capernaum, and a centurion sent to him, asking him to heal a very sick man, a slave of his. Jesus responded and came toward the house. But the centurion sent a message: Lord, I am not worthy to receive you under my roof, but only say the word and my servant shall be healed. And so it was.
Jesus moved on again, coming into the town of Nain, and a large crowd was with him. They came upon another large crowd, in that town, a funeral procession carrying the only son of a widow to his grave.
Jesus sees what is going on; as he enters the place, a woman, a widow with only one child, a son, is there -- and she is already bereft of him, and of her future, her hope, embodied in that child of hers. Jesus knows -- and we know -- what that means. He stops the procession. Hold it right there!
The funeral march comes to a halt.
Then there came an extraordinary collision; the encounter of the power of life and of resurrection and hope with the power of death and anger and despair.
Jesus says to the woman, do not cry.
And then Jesus comes up to the bier and says: Young man, rise up!
And he does.
And the young man lives, and the Lord restores him to his mother.
A great prophet has arisen, the people say -- and well they might. You can hear the echoes of Elijah's story in this miracle of our Lord.
What is this about? Who is this that has such power over life and death -- and life beyond death? It is the Lord.
It was the Lord; the Lord before his own crucifixion, his own glorification, his own resurrection.
After Easter, His appearing to the disciples, the women at the tomb, the apostles, and many others, is the beginning of something new. He is the first born of the new creation, the first fruits of the resurrection. He tells us that there is something beyond life under the powers of this world, that life lived in God is life that lasts.
The Lord is Lord of life and death, and of life that lies beyond death. The hope of the resurrection, in the risen Christ, is not for the restoration of what was but of the beginning of what will be.
Even in death, we believe, life is changed, not ended. Changed. (Not a tape or a film rewound in the projector and played again, but the mounting of a new reel altogether.)
We are transformed in the newness of life.
Resurrection is not a return to the old life, but the creation of something new - it is moving forward, not back.
What we have to pass on is a living faith in a living God. It is renewal, it is new, it is life itself: it is life in Christ, not the old way of law and sin and death, but the way forward into life in Christ, into the kingdom that begins now, that indeed is all around us.
Bill Lewellis, a friend of mine, once explained that in the Celtic way of looking at things there is such a thing as a 'thin place', a place where the veil between this world and the next, the earthly realm and the heavenly, is thin and easily passed through. It is as if there were a membrane between the everyday and the eternal, and it is permeable somewhere, sometimes.
Then Bill went on to explain that the 'thin place' is really anywhere we are open to the Spirit, and anytime our hearts are open to Christ. That is where the eternal breaks through to the everyday, and transforms it: where our hearts are open and when we are present to the abundance of grace.
The widow in Sidon and the widow in the village of Nain, separated by many years and miles, both were facing scarcity and the end of their own resources, and yet both responded with a morsel of hope and received the gift of abundance.
They did not have much left, and what they had was being taken away from them. And yet the Lord acted, and their lives were changed.
So what was it they had to pass on? It was not their physical comfort or success. It was something that lasts. Something that abides.
What it is might not be abundantly clear right now. It may not be clear until we too share in the resurrection, when our hope is fulfilled in the kingdom of Christ.
For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known.
But we have a pretty good idea, of what lasts: the things we have spoken of, the word, the sacraments, the fellowship, are things that bring us closer to God and carry us forward together in God's mission and God's purpose.
All of these things come to us in the gift of the Spirit. And it is the abiding promise and presence of God that shows us what really lasts, what really gives life meaning. Some things will pass away, good things as they are, for when the time for them is over, they will fade away.
We know that; we look for the things that last, that are our greatest gifts to pass on to those coming along in our midst and coming after us.
What are these lasting gifts?
And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.
May we live by faith,
walk in hope and be renewed in love,
until the world reflects your glory
and you are all in all.
Even so, come, Lord Jesus. Amen.
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1 Kings 17:8-16 (17-24)
Psalm 146
Galatians 1:11-24
Luke 7:11-17
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In the name of God, source of all being, eternal word, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
On the river last Monday, as Sarah and I were in our canoe sitting by a dock, we saw coming up the river a young woman in a large-brimmed straw hat, standing in the middle of a canoe, with a pole in her hand. It was our cousin Mary and she was poling her canoe upriver. She looked, Sarah said, like a picture that could have been out of the 19th century - had she been wearing a long dress instead of a more modern boating costume. And it was true; Mary was poling up the river just as she had been taught by her grandmother, whose own mother had indeed, pole in hand, in long tweed skirt, a Liberty print blouse with a Peter Pan collar, and a cardigan sweater - and pearls, traveled up that same river, standing in a canoe, propelling herself with a pole. The skill was taught them by an Ojibway river guide (and canoe builder) named Laroque. Great grandmother learned, then grandmother learned; then Grammy taught her daughters and grand daughters. And the knowledge of the river and the skill of the pole were passed along, a living tradition, from generation to generation. Were passed along; are passed along; will be passed along.
A living tradition is something we pass along, something that gives strength, something that gives skill and even power, to those coming along.
The first disciples, the witnesses to the life and death and resurrection and ascension of our Lord, passed along what they had seen and what they had heard, what they had touched with their hands and embraced in their arms, to those who came along after them. And what they received they also passed on. To you.
What we have received we must also pass along. And we must decide what matters, what matters most, and that is what we must make sure to share with the new generations that are coming along.
What is it that matters most to us? What is it that will last?
What we know, what we have received, as church, as the family of God, always sustains us through these several elements: the sacred Word, the story of the love of God for humankind; the water of Baptism, in which we receive a sign of new life in Christ; the wine and the bread, transformed for us and, received in faith, transforming us ourselves into the body of Christ; and then the gift of each other, that Body of which we are all members; and - the Holy Spirit, in which all this lives and moves and has its being.
These are things that we have received, that we live by, that we pass on. These things are all gifts given us to give others, to share with them the grace and peace of God.
For on the night before he was betrayed our Lord took the bread and blessed and broke it and distributed it to his friends, saying, this is my body broken for you: remember me whenever you do this. And at the end of the meal he took wine in a cup and passed it around, having first blessed it and said, this is my blood, shed for you, and for many, for the forgiveness of sins. Whenever you drink it, remember me.
In the first reading this morning we are confronted with a great man of God, Elijah the prophet, leader of the resistance by the followers of the Lord, as their own king turned from worship of the one true living God to the worship of idols, false gods, known as Ba'al. Elijah confronted the king, named Ahab, and said these words of power:
‘As the Lord the God of Israel lives, before whom I stand, there shall be neither dew nor rain these years, except by my word.’ (1 Kings 17:1)
That was enough to get the message across to the king. Then Elijah following the Lord's command left the royal presence and travelled east of the Jordan to a stream called Cherith. There for a while he was safe, and survived, on food the Lord provided. The drought and the famine had come upon the land, however, and so eventually the stream dried up. Elijah gathered himself together and began walking, west and north. He left his homeland behind.
Eventually he made his way over toward the coast in the land of Sidon, where he came into a village.
A woman was there, and he approached. May I have some water? And, exhausted, famished, at his last strength, he asked one more gift. Could you give me even a morsel of bread?
She was famished too. She was down to the last of the food. She was at the end of her rope. She was a widow with one child, a son, and they were both about to have their last meal.
And yet, hearing his assurance of the Lord God's promise, this woman, outside of Israel, answered him. Yes. This is the last I have, but here--have this bit of food and water. And so they both began to regain their strength.
The book of Kings tells us they did not run out of food for many days. And then the worst blow fell. Her son, her only son,--had no life in him. What have you done? she cried. Why have you visited the wrath of my sins upon me? Why?
And Elijah, distressed, stretched himself upon the body --and prayed. God, bring this boy back to life.
And the boy lived, and the prophet gave the woman back her son.
On the strength of that encounter, that saving and sustaining grace, Elijah went in the power of the Spirit back to Israel and defeated the priests of the false worship. He did great and powerful things, or more accurately, prayer saw them happen in the will of God.
Jesus referred to this story of the widow and Elijah, when he spoke in the synagogue at Nazareth, his hometown. The widow of Zarephath was the one to whom the Lord sent Elijah, the prophet of God. And it was in her house that the real miracle began. It began with a little thing, that you could hold in your hand. More spectacular things were to follow; but first there was a handful of meal and an alabaster jar of oil, and a little morsel of faith.
From that small beginning came greater things. In the little feast they shared between them, the widow and the prophet laid a foundation of faith that God built upon, rebuilding the faith of the people of Israel. (It was like the feeding of five thousand people with five loaves and two fishes.) Small beginnings, greater ends; simple things, made holy.
Jesus had told this story, and then moved on. He came to Capernaum, and a centurion sent to him, asking him to heal a very sick man, a slave of his. Jesus responded and came toward the house. But the centurion sent a message: Lord, I am not worthy to receive you under my roof, but only say the word and my servant shall be healed. And so it was.
Jesus moved on again, coming into the town of Nain, and a large crowd was with him. They came upon another large crowd, in that town, a funeral procession carrying the only son of a widow to his grave.
Jesus sees what is going on; as he enters the place, a woman, a widow with only one child, a son, is there -- and she is already bereft of him, and of her future, her hope, embodied in that child of hers. Jesus knows -- and we know -- what that means. He stops the procession. Hold it right there!
The funeral march comes to a halt.
Then there came an extraordinary collision; the encounter of the power of life and of resurrection and hope with the power of death and anger and despair.
Jesus says to the woman, do not cry.
And then Jesus comes up to the bier and says: Young man, rise up!
And he does.
And the young man lives, and the Lord restores him to his mother.
A great prophet has arisen, the people say -- and well they might. You can hear the echoes of Elijah's story in this miracle of our Lord.
What is this about? Who is this that has such power over life and death -- and life beyond death? It is the Lord.
It was the Lord; the Lord before his own crucifixion, his own glorification, his own resurrection.
After Easter, His appearing to the disciples, the women at the tomb, the apostles, and many others, is the beginning of something new. He is the first born of the new creation, the first fruits of the resurrection. He tells us that there is something beyond life under the powers of this world, that life lived in God is life that lasts.
The Lord is Lord of life and death, and of life that lies beyond death. The hope of the resurrection, in the risen Christ, is not for the restoration of what was but of the beginning of what will be.
Even in death, we believe, life is changed, not ended. Changed. (Not a tape or a film rewound in the projector and played again, but the mounting of a new reel altogether.)
We are transformed in the newness of life.
Resurrection is not a return to the old life, but the creation of something new - it is moving forward, not back.
What we have to pass on is a living faith in a living God. It is renewal, it is new, it is life itself: it is life in Christ, not the old way of law and sin and death, but the way forward into life in Christ, into the kingdom that begins now, that indeed is all around us.
Bill Lewellis, a friend of mine, once explained that in the Celtic way of looking at things there is such a thing as a 'thin place', a place where the veil between this world and the next, the earthly realm and the heavenly, is thin and easily passed through. It is as if there were a membrane between the everyday and the eternal, and it is permeable somewhere, sometimes.
Then Bill went on to explain that the 'thin place' is really anywhere we are open to the Spirit, and anytime our hearts are open to Christ. That is where the eternal breaks through to the everyday, and transforms it: where our hearts are open and when we are present to the abundance of grace.
The widow in Sidon and the widow in the village of Nain, separated by many years and miles, both were facing scarcity and the end of their own resources, and yet both responded with a morsel of hope and received the gift of abundance.
They did not have much left, and what they had was being taken away from them. And yet the Lord acted, and their lives were changed.
So what was it they had to pass on? It was not their physical comfort or success. It was something that lasts. Something that abides.
What it is might not be abundantly clear right now. It may not be clear until we too share in the resurrection, when our hope is fulfilled in the kingdom of Christ.
For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known.
But we have a pretty good idea, of what lasts: the things we have spoken of, the word, the sacraments, the fellowship, are things that bring us closer to God and carry us forward together in God's mission and God's purpose.
All of these things come to us in the gift of the Spirit. And it is the abiding promise and presence of God that shows us what really lasts, what really gives life meaning. Some things will pass away, good things as they are, for when the time for them is over, they will fade away.
We know that; we look for the things that last, that are our greatest gifts to pass on to those coming along in our midst and coming after us.
What are these lasting gifts?
And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.
May we live by faith,
walk in hope and be renewed in love,
until the world reflects your glory
and you are all in all.
Even so, come, Lord Jesus. Amen.
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1 Kings 17:8-16 (17-24)
Psalm 146
Galatians 1:11-24
Luke 7:11-17
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Sunday, May 23, 2010
Gathering Prayer
Gathering Prayer
Creator, we give you thanks for all you are and all you bring to us within your creation. In Jesus, you place the Gospel in the center of the sacred circle through which all of creation is related.
You show us the way to live a generous and compassionate life. Give us your strength to live together with respect and commitment as we grow in your spirit, for you are God, now and forever, Amen.
Elsie Dennis gave us this gathering prayer during the Little Feast on Saturday, May 15th. Elsie is from the Sinixt tribe and works in First Nations and multicultural ministries with the Diocese of Olympia.
Gleaned by Christine Sine (http://godspace.wordpress.com/2010/05/19/a-native-american-gathering-prayer/)
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Creator, we give you thanks for all you are and all you bring to us within your creation. In Jesus, you place the Gospel in the center of the sacred circle through which all of creation is related.
You show us the way to live a generous and compassionate life. Give us your strength to live together with respect and commitment as we grow in your spirit, for you are God, now and forever, Amen.
Elsie Dennis gave us this gathering prayer during the Little Feast on Saturday, May 15th. Elsie is from the Sinixt tribe and works in First Nations and multicultural ministries with the Diocese of Olympia.
Gleaned by Christine Sine (http://godspace.wordpress.com/2010/05/19/a-native-american-gathering-prayer/)
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two futures
Jurgen Moltmann once wrote … that in Latin there are two words for the future.
One is futurum. Futurum, he said, is the future we see stretching out in front us by our brainstorming, trend spotting, number crunching etc. It comes from our wrestling. He calls this the Future of Social Calculation.
But, he says, there’s another future that comes towards us from beyond us, over which we have no control. We can’t fashion its outline or calculate it. We grapple with this future by asking a question. “What kind of X (parish, diocese, state, country, family, etc., etc.) would we like to have in (fill in a date)?” In other words we in a sense “dream” this future. Moltmann says that this dreaming can be very powerful.
When a society starts dreaming of a different future to what it now has, it can produce tremendous energy. Sometimes all the tanks in the world can’t stop it. Walls can tumble. He calls this future the Future of Ethical Anticipation.
He then says that each is incomplete with out the other. Both are needed for future planning.
(Herbert O’Driscoll, email to Fr. John 11/23/09)
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One is futurum. Futurum, he said, is the future we see stretching out in front us by our brainstorming, trend spotting, number crunching etc. It comes from our wrestling. He calls this the Future of Social Calculation.
But, he says, there’s another future that comes towards us from beyond us, over which we have no control. We can’t fashion its outline or calculate it. We grapple with this future by asking a question. “What kind of X (parish, diocese, state, country, family, etc., etc.) would we like to have in (fill in a date)?” In other words we in a sense “dream” this future. Moltmann says that this dreaming can be very powerful.
When a society starts dreaming of a different future to what it now has, it can produce tremendous energy. Sometimes all the tanks in the world can’t stop it. Walls can tumble. He calls this future the Future of Ethical Anticipation.
He then says that each is incomplete with out the other. Both are needed for future planning.
(Herbert O’Driscoll, email to Fr. John 11/23/09)
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a fresh start
Pentecost 2010
Come Holy Spirit and kindle the fire that is in us.
Take our lips and speak through them.
Take our hearts and see through them.
Take our souls and set them on fire. Amen.
In the name of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.
The kingdom is within you, waiting to emerge in your mind, your heart, your words, your deeds; the kingdom is all around you, waiting to break in to this world, through your mind, your heart, your words, your deeds - and the unbridled work of the Spirit.
In the prayer that Jesus taught us, we pray both 'deliver us from evil' -praying for ourselves- and 'thy kingdom come' - praying for the world.*
We ask for our own needs - give us this day our daily bread - and for the needs of others. We ask forgiveness for ourselves, as we ourselves forgive others.
But above all, and first of all, we have the temerity to address the Holy One as 'Father' - not in our own merit but in the name of Jesus. And we, having gone so far as that, then praise his name - and ask for his will to be done.
That will, the will of God to be carried out by the action of the Spirit in the world, has implications for us both as individuals, in our experience of God, and as members of the body of Christ, who are charged to carry forward his work in the world. Love’s redeeming work is at work in each of us, transforming us into the image of holiness each of us is to bear, and it is at work in all of us, transforming our work in the world into the work of the Holy Spirit - if we let it.
In our prayers sometimes we focus on one or the other - our own need for God, our own desire for God, our own intention to live a life that is worthy of our calling to be people of God; or on the need to transform the world in his service, to reach out to others with the good news of Christ, or to work for transformation of that world into the peaceable, righteous kingdom of God.
These two elements, personal and corporate, inward and outward in focus, seem lost in tension. And yet both are present in the day we celebrate today, the day of Pentecost. For in the upper room where they stayed, and where they prayed, the disciples, men and women, the assembled multitude of brothers and sisters, gathered to await what Jesus had promised them: an Advocate, the Holy Spirit, who was to lead them into all truth.
They did not know what to expect. Neither do we. But on that day, some 1980 years ago, there came upon them a noise like a great wind, filling the house, and then the apparition of tongues of fire. What came upon them then was the gift of speech in languages not their own; not their own, but known to others. For soon, these, summoned by the sound of the mighty wind, gathered.
What is going on? Are these people drunk? They cannot be! The bars are not even open yet--it’s only nine o’clock in the morning. What is going on, Peter said, is what Joel foretold. The spirit of God is being poured out upon all flesh. The old will dream dreams; the young will see visions. There will be portents of fire and blood and drifting smoke; the sun shall be blotted out.
It was a vision of apocalypse--of the end of the age. And it was the end of the age--the age of the rule of the Prince of this world. For the kingdom of God was clearly at hand.
What the people witnessed, what they experienced, when they came to investigate, was this startling phenomenon: no matter where they were from, no matter what their native language was, they heard the disciples talking in it, speaking of the great deeds God had done. The good news spoke to them in the language of their hearts.
And they heard the good news--and responded to it. Once Peter explained to them what was really going on, how the Lord had called to them through Jesus whom they had despised, they turned and repented, seeking to do what was right. Call upon the Lord, Peter said, just as the prophet told you. And be baptized in Jesus’ name for the forgiveness of sins.
In the upper room, in the midst of the wind and the tongues of flame, Peter called upon them to repent and be saved. And he gave them the charge of seeking baptism.
(What does baptism mean? What does it do? What does it imply? How does it empower the people of God? How does it call upon them to act?)
Baptism we so often remember is a dying to the old self, the self that lays claim to the world in its own desire. Baptism is a washing-away of the stain of sin, of self-centered living, of pride. But it is also a rising--a rising to new life in Christ, made new, reborn, in the Spirit’s power, a fresh start.
It is a fresh start--but not on the old path. For in baptism we are called to leave the old ‘me’ behind, and to seek the kingdom of God first. For we are assured that all we need will come from that.
What we need then, is to carry out the mission of our baptism, the mission given to the disciples and their hearers so long ago, that is encapsulated for us in the promises we make at Baptism, and take again as our agenda in the renewal of the baptismal covenant. Pentecost is a day for that; just as much as it is a day to welcome new converts, it is a day to renew ourselves in Christ.
Conversion can be seen as taking responsibility for our own growth and development. You can take that personally; we can take that corporately, together, as the people of God called together in this place, at this time.
The people gathered in the upper room, in that place, at that time, felt individually spoken to and corporately called, as the body of Christ, into new relationships with each other, God, and themselves. They needed to know what to do, where to start, how to make a new beginning.
And they began with taking on the new life, the life in Christ, that we are promised to. And that we, too, promise to lead, as we take on ourselves the task and the glory and the joy of Christ.
Here today we have a chance to renew our own baptismal covenant, in the words that echo the creed - the Nicene Creed - and in the promises that follow, to flesh out and make real in our own lives the words that echo the words spoken so long ago, as Christians of old, in the baptismal rite, took on the life of Christ as their own.
Let us now renew our own baptismal covenant.
The Baptismal Covenant (Book of Common Prayer, USA, 1979, p. 304-305)
May the Lord, the God of hope, the God of peace, the God of joy, and of strength, fill us with the Spirit, giving us the gifts to share that we may bear the fruits of the Father’s will in our lives. AMEN.
Come Holy Spirit and kindle the fire that is in us.
Take our lips and speak through them.
Take our hearts and see through them.
Take our souls and set them on fire. Amen.
Acts 2:1-21
Psalm 104:25-35, 37
Romans 8:14-17
John 14:8-17, (25-27)
+
*Dorothee Soelle, Thinking about God: An Introduction to Theology (Trinity Press International, 1991)
John Carlin, Playing the Enemy: Nelson Mandela and the Game That Made a Nation (Penguin, 2008). Basis of the film "Invictus" directed by Clint Eastwood (Warner Bros., 2009).
+
Come Holy Spirit and kindle the fire that is in us.
Take our lips and speak through them.
Take our hearts and see through them.
Take our souls and set them on fire. Amen.
In the name of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.
The kingdom is within you, waiting to emerge in your mind, your heart, your words, your deeds; the kingdom is all around you, waiting to break in to this world, through your mind, your heart, your words, your deeds - and the unbridled work of the Spirit.
In the prayer that Jesus taught us, we pray both 'deliver us from evil' -praying for ourselves- and 'thy kingdom come' - praying for the world.*
We ask for our own needs - give us this day our daily bread - and for the needs of others. We ask forgiveness for ourselves, as we ourselves forgive others.
But above all, and first of all, we have the temerity to address the Holy One as 'Father' - not in our own merit but in the name of Jesus. And we, having gone so far as that, then praise his name - and ask for his will to be done.
That will, the will of God to be carried out by the action of the Spirit in the world, has implications for us both as individuals, in our experience of God, and as members of the body of Christ, who are charged to carry forward his work in the world. Love’s redeeming work is at work in each of us, transforming us into the image of holiness each of us is to bear, and it is at work in all of us, transforming our work in the world into the work of the Holy Spirit - if we let it.
In our prayers sometimes we focus on one or the other - our own need for God, our own desire for God, our own intention to live a life that is worthy of our calling to be people of God; or on the need to transform the world in his service, to reach out to others with the good news of Christ, or to work for transformation of that world into the peaceable, righteous kingdom of God.
These two elements, personal and corporate, inward and outward in focus, seem lost in tension. And yet both are present in the day we celebrate today, the day of Pentecost. For in the upper room where they stayed, and where they prayed, the disciples, men and women, the assembled multitude of brothers and sisters, gathered to await what Jesus had promised them: an Advocate, the Holy Spirit, who was to lead them into all truth.
They did not know what to expect. Neither do we. But on that day, some 1980 years ago, there came upon them a noise like a great wind, filling the house, and then the apparition of tongues of fire. What came upon them then was the gift of speech in languages not their own; not their own, but known to others. For soon, these, summoned by the sound of the mighty wind, gathered.
What is going on? Are these people drunk? They cannot be! The bars are not even open yet--it’s only nine o’clock in the morning. What is going on, Peter said, is what Joel foretold. The spirit of God is being poured out upon all flesh. The old will dream dreams; the young will see visions. There will be portents of fire and blood and drifting smoke; the sun shall be blotted out.
It was a vision of apocalypse--of the end of the age. And it was the end of the age--the age of the rule of the Prince of this world. For the kingdom of God was clearly at hand.
What the people witnessed, what they experienced, when they came to investigate, was this startling phenomenon: no matter where they were from, no matter what their native language was, they heard the disciples talking in it, speaking of the great deeds God had done. The good news spoke to them in the language of their hearts.
And they heard the good news--and responded to it. Once Peter explained to them what was really going on, how the Lord had called to them through Jesus whom they had despised, they turned and repented, seeking to do what was right. Call upon the Lord, Peter said, just as the prophet told you. And be baptized in Jesus’ name for the forgiveness of sins.
In the upper room, in the midst of the wind and the tongues of flame, Peter called upon them to repent and be saved. And he gave them the charge of seeking baptism.
(What does baptism mean? What does it do? What does it imply? How does it empower the people of God? How does it call upon them to act?)
Baptism we so often remember is a dying to the old self, the self that lays claim to the world in its own desire. Baptism is a washing-away of the stain of sin, of self-centered living, of pride. But it is also a rising--a rising to new life in Christ, made new, reborn, in the Spirit’s power, a fresh start.
It is a fresh start--but not on the old path. For in baptism we are called to leave the old ‘me’ behind, and to seek the kingdom of God first. For we are assured that all we need will come from that.
What we need then, is to carry out the mission of our baptism, the mission given to the disciples and their hearers so long ago, that is encapsulated for us in the promises we make at Baptism, and take again as our agenda in the renewal of the baptismal covenant. Pentecost is a day for that; just as much as it is a day to welcome new converts, it is a day to renew ourselves in Christ.
Conversion can be seen as taking responsibility for our own growth and development. You can take that personally; we can take that corporately, together, as the people of God called together in this place, at this time.
The people gathered in the upper room, in that place, at that time, felt individually spoken to and corporately called, as the body of Christ, into new relationships with each other, God, and themselves. They needed to know what to do, where to start, how to make a new beginning.
And they began with taking on the new life, the life in Christ, that we are promised to. And that we, too, promise to lead, as we take on ourselves the task and the glory and the joy of Christ.
Here today we have a chance to renew our own baptismal covenant, in the words that echo the creed - the Nicene Creed - and in the promises that follow, to flesh out and make real in our own lives the words that echo the words spoken so long ago, as Christians of old, in the baptismal rite, took on the life of Christ as their own.
Let us now renew our own baptismal covenant.
The Baptismal Covenant (Book of Common Prayer, USA, 1979, p. 304-305)
May the Lord, the God of hope, the God of peace, the God of joy, and of strength, fill us with the Spirit, giving us the gifts to share that we may bear the fruits of the Father’s will in our lives. AMEN.
Come Holy Spirit and kindle the fire that is in us.
Take our lips and speak through them.
Take our hearts and see through them.
Take our souls and set them on fire. Amen.
Acts 2:1-21
Psalm 104:25-35, 37
Romans 8:14-17
John 14:8-17, (25-27)
+
*Dorothee Soelle, Thinking about God: An Introduction to Theology (Trinity Press International, 1991)
John Carlin, Playing the Enemy: Nelson Mandela and the Game That Made a Nation (Penguin, 2008). Basis of the film "Invictus" directed by Clint Eastwood (Warner Bros., 2009).
+
They are filled with new wine
Come Holy Spirit and kindle the fire that is in us.
Take our lips and speak through them.
Take our hearts and see through them.
Take our souls and set them on fire. Amen.
Take our lips and speak through them.
Take our hearts and see through them.
Take our souls and set them on fire. Amen.
Monday, May 17, 2010
The Legacy of Saint Alban
"I worship and adore the true and living God, who created all things." --Alban, First Martyr of Britain (3rd Century A.D.)
A third of the way around the world and over seventeen centuries ago, in a town about an hour's drive north of London, there lived a Roman Briton named Alban. This was in the latter days of the pagan Roman empire, and the church was still living under persecution. One day an itinerant Christian priest, on the run from the imperial troopers, came to Alban's door seeking shelter. A hospitable and courageous man - not to say a curious one - Alban let him in. They began to talk. Alban was so impressed with what the priest had to say about this newfound faith that it became his own faith too.
When the knock on the door came, as inevitably it would, Alban answered the door - in the priest's clothes. He was arrested and hauled before the magistrate, who demanded to know his name, his origins, and what he believed. My name is known to you as is my family, Alban replied, and I worship the living and true God who made all things. That was enough for the magistrate. Take him away! They led him across the river and up to the top of a hill, where they beheaded him with a sword.
For his faith, his courage, his charity, and the hospitable abundance of God he showed in his witness, Alban is remembered to this day in that town, once called Verulamium, now renamed Saint Albans in his memory.
Alban, by turning from pagan idols to the Christian faith, embrace a complete change of worldview. He let it cost him something precious: the life he knew. He did not, however, cling to his life when he was called upon to lay it down in service to Christ.
Alban extended hospitality to a stranger, and in so doing allowed his guest to challenge and change him. Later, on the strength of his new faith and his own charism of courage, he faced down the empire's representatives. He knew his allegiance to the one true living God mattered more than pleasing the court. He knew that life in abundance, eternal life, meant more than grasping onto his place in the world.
And so his life, a witness to all, inspires us - as an example, a model, and a sign pointing beyond itself to the One he worshiped: the living God whose love is ultimately revealed to us in his son Jesus Christ, and whose inspiration comes to us all through the holy Spirit.
This is the legacy of Saint Alban. May hospitality, courage, faith, and an eagerness for the abundance of life everlasting, show forth in our lives as well, as a church dedicated to God's glory, and the memory of Alban, first martyr of Britain.
THE ALBAN PRAYER
Almighty God,
We thank you for this place built to your glory
and in memory of Alban, first martyr of Britain.
Following his example in the fellowship of the saints,
may we worship and adore the true and living God,
and be faithful witnesses to the Christ,
who is alive and reigns, now and for ever.
AMEN
May we live by faith, walk in hope and be renewed in love, until the world reflects your glory and you are all in all. Even so, come, Lord Jesus. Amen. (Book of Common Prayer, Church of Ireland, 2004)
***
Sources
Cathedral and Abbey Church of Saint Alban
http://www.stalbanscathedral.org/history/story-of-st-alban
Bede, Ecclesiastical History ("In Britain's isle was holy Alban born.")
http://www.fordham.edu/halsall/basis/bede-book1.html
http://www.sobornost.org/alban.html
+
For the Gospel Grapevine (June/July 2010), parish newsletter of Saint Alban's Episcopal Church, Edmonds, Wash.
JRL+
A third of the way around the world and over seventeen centuries ago, in a town about an hour's drive north of London, there lived a Roman Briton named Alban. This was in the latter days of the pagan Roman empire, and the church was still living under persecution. One day an itinerant Christian priest, on the run from the imperial troopers, came to Alban's door seeking shelter. A hospitable and courageous man - not to say a curious one - Alban let him in. They began to talk. Alban was so impressed with what the priest had to say about this newfound faith that it became his own faith too.
When the knock on the door came, as inevitably it would, Alban answered the door - in the priest's clothes. He was arrested and hauled before the magistrate, who demanded to know his name, his origins, and what he believed. My name is known to you as is my family, Alban replied, and I worship the living and true God who made all things. That was enough for the magistrate. Take him away! They led him across the river and up to the top of a hill, where they beheaded him with a sword.
For his faith, his courage, his charity, and the hospitable abundance of God he showed in his witness, Alban is remembered to this day in that town, once called Verulamium, now renamed Saint Albans in his memory.
Alban, by turning from pagan idols to the Christian faith, embrace a complete change of worldview. He let it cost him something precious: the life he knew. He did not, however, cling to his life when he was called upon to lay it down in service to Christ.
Alban extended hospitality to a stranger, and in so doing allowed his guest to challenge and change him. Later, on the strength of his new faith and his own charism of courage, he faced down the empire's representatives. He knew his allegiance to the one true living God mattered more than pleasing the court. He knew that life in abundance, eternal life, meant more than grasping onto his place in the world.
And so his life, a witness to all, inspires us - as an example, a model, and a sign pointing beyond itself to the One he worshiped: the living God whose love is ultimately revealed to us in his son Jesus Christ, and whose inspiration comes to us all through the holy Spirit.
This is the legacy of Saint Alban. May hospitality, courage, faith, and an eagerness for the abundance of life everlasting, show forth in our lives as well, as a church dedicated to God's glory, and the memory of Alban, first martyr of Britain.
THE ALBAN PRAYER
Almighty God,
We thank you for this place built to your glory
and in memory of Alban, first martyr of Britain.
Following his example in the fellowship of the saints,
may we worship and adore the true and living God,
and be faithful witnesses to the Christ,
who is alive and reigns, now and for ever.
AMEN
May we live by faith, walk in hope and be renewed in love, until the world reflects your glory and you are all in all. Even so, come, Lord Jesus. Amen. (Book of Common Prayer, Church of Ireland, 2004)
***
Sources
Cathedral and Abbey Church of Saint Alban
http://www.stalbanscathedral.org/history/story-of-st-alban
Bede, Ecclesiastical History ("In Britain's isle was holy Alban born.")
http://www.fordham.edu/halsall/basis/bede-book1.html
http://www.sobornost.org/alban.html
+
For the Gospel Grapevine (June/July 2010), parish newsletter of Saint Alban's Episcopal Church, Edmonds, Wash.
JRL+
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