saturday night, filled with nervousness and other emotional issues, i couldn't sleep and didn't know how to pray about what was on my heart. after praying a few prayers from the BCP, i decided to write two of my own. here they are.
O God, the healer of lepers and author of love: Guide us, too, out of caves of loneliness, hurt, and injustice; lead us into your loving community; fill us with the hope you give; and illuminate our paths with your eternal light; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
O God, the comfort of those who are alone: Give us peace in our solitary existence; remind us of the community you have built; wipe our tears when we cry; love us when we feel none do, for we know you are faithful; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
Monday, July 27, 2009
Sunday, July 26, 2009
Jesus 6:1-21 –- Miraculously Loving Others
this is the sermon i preached today, which was my last sunday at st. mark's. comments are welcomed. :)
---
In the name of the One God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit – who feeds us when we are hungry and meets us where we are in the sea, Amen.
A while ago, when asked what Sunday I wanted to preach next, I carefully studied the different texts for the weeks ahead and finally chose this week to preach, because I know the intensity of the text, as well as the fact that I wanted to preach on my last Sunday at St. Mark's. As the date grew nearer and I started to do my research of the texts today, I realized something about preaching on texts such as the Feeding of the Five Thousand and Jesus Walking on Water. I spoke with Tate a few days ago and I explained to him that in preaching on such a known story as this, and a story as powerful as miracles performed by Jesus, there is a double edged sword -- while it is a nice text to preach on, there is a lot of – responsibility – given to the preacher to bring a message that is even somewhat as inspiring as the story itself.
I've heard others speak on this gospel narrative before, noting that some scholars believe what "actually happened" was that a community pooled together their resources to ensure that everyone around them was fed. In doing my research, I found a scholar who disagreed. He writes that this idea "is put forward because some people just have difficulty in accepting miracles, or even in recognizing the power of God." Frankly, reading this upset me. I happen to love the idea of a community, knowing they were in the presence of a God that provides, providing for one another. It seems to me to be a picture of the people actually following what Jesus did, and emulating it. While scholars believe people followed Jesus not knowing that he would be an eternal king, and instead desiring him to be an earthly king, still -- the beautiful picture of a community emulating Jesus's actions strikes a very positive cord with me.
The same writer from before continues in saying, "The irony is that if this Gospel is about anything at all, it is about the difference between the way we think and the way God thinks. We are finite, God is infinite. Our thought processes are defined by the worlds in which we live, complete with our prejudices, our biases, our politics... God, on the other hand, thinks outside the box and brings about results that we could not bring about on our own." To this point, I wholeheartedly agree. But, with that point made, doesn't that make the idea of a community feeding each other, regardless of prejudices, all the more beautiful? Doesn’t it make the concept of people breaking outside of their biases and their politics to love others, all the more… Miraculous?
Still, many argue this takes the miracle out of the miraculous, and I understand this complaint completely. I do believe Jesus performed a miracle. I believe Jesus performed that miracle then and still performs that miracle now. When the text says that Jesus gave thanks, the word used for thanks in the Greek is eucharista, which is obviously the word from which we get the institution of the sacrament of the Eucharist. It is a miracle to think that God would feed the five thousand, but also a miracle to think that God feeds us still. This gospel narrative also correlates with the story of Moses and the provisions made by God to the people by feeding them with manna from heaven.
When we entertain the idea that the consecration of the Eucharist takes us into community with saints from the past, in the present, and who will be in the future, we take a seat alongside the five thousand and we look at the altar as Jesus gives thanks and breaks the bread that we will take from across the altar rail. So, really, the concern is not whether or not a community pools their resources, the point that is noted is that when the bread is broken and consecrated, we all pool our resources – resources of the mind, body, and soul – and take on the responsibility to give of ourselves and our prejudices to the point that we are willing to have community with ALL the saints and kneel beside anyone at the altar rail to each be fed with spiritual food.
It is important to note that the gospel text today is not only about Jesus feeding people. It is also about Jesus walking on water and meeting the disciples in their boat. I promise you, I will offer you no theories of what "actually happened" here, but instead rely on the narrative offered by John. Now, it is clear that the men in the boat were terrified to see Jesus walking on water. They truly looked at him with awe, knowing not only his power, but also the power he could have over them.
To digress for a second, I happen to be an absolute lover of the beach. I remember one summer I went to the beach and, after finding some alone time, I sat in front of the sea and dug my fingers into the sand. I love the feeling of cool sand between my fingers and toes. I pulled my hands out of the sand and happened to look at my fingernails, to find grain upon grain of sand encased within them. I was immediately struck with the beautiful image of God and the Church. While these grains of sand can fit within my fingernails, they also – together – hold the weight of the entire sea.
I wonder if we are the like the sand, seemingly insignificant and tiny, but called by our baptismal covenants to be the Church, and to live into those vows, so that we in our finite flesh may embody the great, vast, infinite God that rests on our shoulders, and moves like the sea. If this is the case, we too should be terrified like the disciples. We should stand in awe at the realization that we’ve been asked to live into this responsibility.
I do believe that God brings about results that we could not bring about on our own, but I also believe God often accomplishes this through the times in which we decide to actually live into our baptismal covenants. We are asked to seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbors as ourselves. We are asked to strive for justice and peace among all people, and to respect the dignity of every human being.
While the five thousand may have done it unknowingly, should we give into the theory that they fed each other, these five thousand seem to be living into the baptismal covenant. On the other hand, if we don’t give into that theory, it is still apparent that Jesus is showing us how to live into our baptismal covenants through his feeding of the people. And certainly Jesus was present within that as he stood there, just as Jesus is still present when we live into our covenants as the Church.
But, living into these vows is a responsibility just as great as the mighty sea that rolls and rests upon our shoulders, when we are as grains of sand within a fingernail. And in these moments, as we carry this responsibility, Jesus walks upon the sea and in his presence we are reminded of who we are and whose we are. Jesus meets us in the sea and says, "It is I; do not be afraid," and – forgive the pun – but miraculously, we feel some of the weight of the sea lifted, though we are still conscious of the responsibilities we have committed ourselves to.
As I speak to you on my last Sunday at Troy, I would like to take a moment to thank the church family of St. Mark’s for being the grains of sand that have joined with me to carry the weight of the sea. When I visited this church, I was welcomed into the crowd of the five thousand and invited to feast with each and every one of you. I’ve been fed with spiritual food as well as literal food. On a side note, when I’ve been fed with literal food from St. Mark’s, there’s always been a vegetarian option, and I appreciate that. I’ve sat beside you in pews and knelt beside you at the altar. Though there’s an age gap between myself and most of you, I’ve never been treated like a “little girl” and always as a woman and an equal – I appreciate your respect and credit this congregation with so much of the knowledge that has made me a mature young woman.
We have laughed together for sure, and you’ve felt comfortable enough to joke with me openly and honestly, and I’ve always known the heart of love behind each comment. Father Jeff has listened to me sob over the phone, but has never counted this as my weakness, which has blessed and lightened my heart. When it came down to the single most important day of the year in the life of an Anglican – Easter Vigil – you trusted me with handling the offering, the sacraments, the gospel book, and fire. I still have no idea why you trusted me with that, but I’m flattered. Speaking of miracles today, it’s a miracle you still have a church if you’re willing to trust someone like me with fire. You also trusted me with carrying the cross as crucifer for the first time, and just last Sunday even.
You’ve written me letters of recommendation, which has been a blessing to me. Thank you for giving of your time so freely so that I can go to graduate school. Your generous donations to the discretionary fund have gotten me through tough times and I will never forget that love that you’ve shown me. Just this past summer, I’ve had a discernment committee composed of incredibly loving people who asked me questions I had never asked myself and who have illuminated areas of my being I couldn’t have been aware of through self-inspection. You’ve helped prepare me for the ministry I feel called to, and for that I am eternally grateful.
I considered listing people by name that I would like to thank, but truthfully, if you flip through pretty much the entire St. Mark’s directory, you’ll find all the names I would have listed. Thank you for reading the gospels with me, but also for being living examples of what those gospels, as well as the covenants we’ve made with the Church, truly mean. When I’ve been a grain of sand beside you under the sea, if I don’t hear the voice of God saying, "It is I; do not be afraid," you are quick to relay the message and remind me of the peace that God offers amidst troublesome times.
When it comes to this community together, as well as each of you individually, I must say – thanks be to God!
---
In the name of the One God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit – who feeds us when we are hungry and meets us where we are in the sea, Amen.
A while ago, when asked what Sunday I wanted to preach next, I carefully studied the different texts for the weeks ahead and finally chose this week to preach, because I know the intensity of the text, as well as the fact that I wanted to preach on my last Sunday at St. Mark's. As the date grew nearer and I started to do my research of the texts today, I realized something about preaching on texts such as the Feeding of the Five Thousand and Jesus Walking on Water. I spoke with Tate a few days ago and I explained to him that in preaching on such a known story as this, and a story as powerful as miracles performed by Jesus, there is a double edged sword -- while it is a nice text to preach on, there is a lot of – responsibility – given to the preacher to bring a message that is even somewhat as inspiring as the story itself.
I've heard others speak on this gospel narrative before, noting that some scholars believe what "actually happened" was that a community pooled together their resources to ensure that everyone around them was fed. In doing my research, I found a scholar who disagreed. He writes that this idea "is put forward because some people just have difficulty in accepting miracles, or even in recognizing the power of God." Frankly, reading this upset me. I happen to love the idea of a community, knowing they were in the presence of a God that provides, providing for one another. It seems to me to be a picture of the people actually following what Jesus did, and emulating it. While scholars believe people followed Jesus not knowing that he would be an eternal king, and instead desiring him to be an earthly king, still -- the beautiful picture of a community emulating Jesus's actions strikes a very positive cord with me.
The same writer from before continues in saying, "The irony is that if this Gospel is about anything at all, it is about the difference between the way we think and the way God thinks. We are finite, God is infinite. Our thought processes are defined by the worlds in which we live, complete with our prejudices, our biases, our politics... God, on the other hand, thinks outside the box and brings about results that we could not bring about on our own." To this point, I wholeheartedly agree. But, with that point made, doesn't that make the idea of a community feeding each other, regardless of prejudices, all the more beautiful? Doesn’t it make the concept of people breaking outside of their biases and their politics to love others, all the more… Miraculous?
Still, many argue this takes the miracle out of the miraculous, and I understand this complaint completely. I do believe Jesus performed a miracle. I believe Jesus performed that miracle then and still performs that miracle now. When the text says that Jesus gave thanks, the word used for thanks in the Greek is eucharista, which is obviously the word from which we get the institution of the sacrament of the Eucharist. It is a miracle to think that God would feed the five thousand, but also a miracle to think that God feeds us still. This gospel narrative also correlates with the story of Moses and the provisions made by God to the people by feeding them with manna from heaven.
When we entertain the idea that the consecration of the Eucharist takes us into community with saints from the past, in the present, and who will be in the future, we take a seat alongside the five thousand and we look at the altar as Jesus gives thanks and breaks the bread that we will take from across the altar rail. So, really, the concern is not whether or not a community pools their resources, the point that is noted is that when the bread is broken and consecrated, we all pool our resources – resources of the mind, body, and soul – and take on the responsibility to give of ourselves and our prejudices to the point that we are willing to have community with ALL the saints and kneel beside anyone at the altar rail to each be fed with spiritual food.
It is important to note that the gospel text today is not only about Jesus feeding people. It is also about Jesus walking on water and meeting the disciples in their boat. I promise you, I will offer you no theories of what "actually happened" here, but instead rely on the narrative offered by John. Now, it is clear that the men in the boat were terrified to see Jesus walking on water. They truly looked at him with awe, knowing not only his power, but also the power he could have over them.
To digress for a second, I happen to be an absolute lover of the beach. I remember one summer I went to the beach and, after finding some alone time, I sat in front of the sea and dug my fingers into the sand. I love the feeling of cool sand between my fingers and toes. I pulled my hands out of the sand and happened to look at my fingernails, to find grain upon grain of sand encased within them. I was immediately struck with the beautiful image of God and the Church. While these grains of sand can fit within my fingernails, they also – together – hold the weight of the entire sea.
I wonder if we are the like the sand, seemingly insignificant and tiny, but called by our baptismal covenants to be the Church, and to live into those vows, so that we in our finite flesh may embody the great, vast, infinite God that rests on our shoulders, and moves like the sea. If this is the case, we too should be terrified like the disciples. We should stand in awe at the realization that we’ve been asked to live into this responsibility.
I do believe that God brings about results that we could not bring about on our own, but I also believe God often accomplishes this through the times in which we decide to actually live into our baptismal covenants. We are asked to seek and serve Christ in all persons, loving our neighbors as ourselves. We are asked to strive for justice and peace among all people, and to respect the dignity of every human being.
While the five thousand may have done it unknowingly, should we give into the theory that they fed each other, these five thousand seem to be living into the baptismal covenant. On the other hand, if we don’t give into that theory, it is still apparent that Jesus is showing us how to live into our baptismal covenants through his feeding of the people. And certainly Jesus was present within that as he stood there, just as Jesus is still present when we live into our covenants as the Church.
But, living into these vows is a responsibility just as great as the mighty sea that rolls and rests upon our shoulders, when we are as grains of sand within a fingernail. And in these moments, as we carry this responsibility, Jesus walks upon the sea and in his presence we are reminded of who we are and whose we are. Jesus meets us in the sea and says, "It is I; do not be afraid," and – forgive the pun – but miraculously, we feel some of the weight of the sea lifted, though we are still conscious of the responsibilities we have committed ourselves to.
As I speak to you on my last Sunday at Troy, I would like to take a moment to thank the church family of St. Mark’s for being the grains of sand that have joined with me to carry the weight of the sea. When I visited this church, I was welcomed into the crowd of the five thousand and invited to feast with each and every one of you. I’ve been fed with spiritual food as well as literal food. On a side note, when I’ve been fed with literal food from St. Mark’s, there’s always been a vegetarian option, and I appreciate that. I’ve sat beside you in pews and knelt beside you at the altar. Though there’s an age gap between myself and most of you, I’ve never been treated like a “little girl” and always as a woman and an equal – I appreciate your respect and credit this congregation with so much of the knowledge that has made me a mature young woman.
We have laughed together for sure, and you’ve felt comfortable enough to joke with me openly and honestly, and I’ve always known the heart of love behind each comment. Father Jeff has listened to me sob over the phone, but has never counted this as my weakness, which has blessed and lightened my heart. When it came down to the single most important day of the year in the life of an Anglican – Easter Vigil – you trusted me with handling the offering, the sacraments, the gospel book, and fire. I still have no idea why you trusted me with that, but I’m flattered. Speaking of miracles today, it’s a miracle you still have a church if you’re willing to trust someone like me with fire. You also trusted me with carrying the cross as crucifer for the first time, and just last Sunday even.
You’ve written me letters of recommendation, which has been a blessing to me. Thank you for giving of your time so freely so that I can go to graduate school. Your generous donations to the discretionary fund have gotten me through tough times and I will never forget that love that you’ve shown me. Just this past summer, I’ve had a discernment committee composed of incredibly loving people who asked me questions I had never asked myself and who have illuminated areas of my being I couldn’t have been aware of through self-inspection. You’ve helped prepare me for the ministry I feel called to, and for that I am eternally grateful.
I considered listing people by name that I would like to thank, but truthfully, if you flip through pretty much the entire St. Mark’s directory, you’ll find all the names I would have listed. Thank you for reading the gospels with me, but also for being living examples of what those gospels, as well as the covenants we’ve made with the Church, truly mean. When I’ve been a grain of sand beside you under the sea, if I don’t hear the voice of God saying, "It is I; do not be afraid," you are quick to relay the message and remind me of the peace that God offers amidst troublesome times.
When it comes to this community together, as well as each of you individually, I must say – thanks be to God!
Tuesday, July 21, 2009
seminary.
i haven't blogged in forever, but joseph p. mathews, OSL encouraged me to do so through his own blogging about starting seminary. the truth is, just like pursuing ministry, this life transition is beautifully horrifying. on one hand, i'm thrilled about moving to a place i have never lived and experiencing things that will enhance my reasoning and help me out in ministry, which is a good thing to happen when a person is in seminary. ;)
on the other hand, it has started to become ridiculously clear how much i will struggle financially during seminary. (not to mention as i struggle through the classes!) the good news? i'm pretty positive every seminarian alive has struggled through seminary, and if not every one, every single one i've talked to. the financial aid advisor at seminary of the southwest in austin, tx said that struggling through seminary financially is formational for ministry, because as a priest you have to ask for money a lot too. i'm just going to tell myself, "it's formational... it's formational... it's formational..." well, i hope i will respond that way, anyway.
you would think it would be easier for someone going into the ministry to "just have faith," but i struggle with that with each passing day. i guess that's what happens when you're human. ;)
there are areas of my life i am discontented with, but i'm trying to, as derek webb says, "be kept guessing, with these blessings in disguise" and "walk with grace my feet and faith my eyes." as i write this, there is a gnawing feeling of loneliness in my gut, but there have to be blessings in disguise within the holes i feel in my heart. i just know there are.
thank you for any prayers that have been sent my way, because i feel them. continue to pray for me, if you will, as this little girl moves to a big city.
on the other hand, it has started to become ridiculously clear how much i will struggle financially during seminary. (not to mention as i struggle through the classes!) the good news? i'm pretty positive every seminarian alive has struggled through seminary, and if not every one, every single one i've talked to. the financial aid advisor at seminary of the southwest in austin, tx said that struggling through seminary financially is formational for ministry, because as a priest you have to ask for money a lot too. i'm just going to tell myself, "it's formational... it's formational... it's formational..." well, i hope i will respond that way, anyway.
you would think it would be easier for someone going into the ministry to "just have faith," but i struggle with that with each passing day. i guess that's what happens when you're human. ;)
there are areas of my life i am discontented with, but i'm trying to, as derek webb says, "be kept guessing, with these blessings in disguise" and "walk with grace my feet and faith my eyes." as i write this, there is a gnawing feeling of loneliness in my gut, but there have to be blessings in disguise within the holes i feel in my heart. i just know there are.
thank you for any prayers that have been sent my way, because i feel them. continue to pray for me, if you will, as this little girl moves to a big city.
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