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. :)
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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.
Sunday, June 21, 2009
Pentecost 3 -- Gospel Text: Matthew 4:25-41 -- Jesus Calms the Storms of Fear and Doubt
In the name of God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit, who sustains us through love and peace – Amen.
In the gospel text today, the first thing we notice is that Jesus encourages the disciples into this trip to "the other side." Jesus calls them to leave the "crowd" and venture into the Sea of Galilee, a sea known by the fisherman with Jesus to be dangerous and prone to storms. In the ancient world, seas were known to be chaotic, scary places, which harbored monsters of the deep that could only be controlled by the power of the ethereal God. Jesus calls them out of the comfort they know and into this sublime sea. The disciples faithfully take Jesus’s invitation, which almost seems to be the anti-thesis of foreshadowing, as we will see later in the text when there is a lack of faith.
For those of you that don’t know, I am a social networking guru. Enveloped in Facebook and constantly checking Gmail, and adding on a new addiction – Twitter. Twitter is a website that allows users to send 140 character messages to anyone that chooses to see their updates. A while ago, I got a Tweet, that is – an update from a friend on Twitter, from my friend Reed that read: "I am learning how close absolute faith is to certain doubt. Both steal silently into the heart." I immediately became captivated by the idea and knew I wanted to preach on this gospel text, because there was a common thread: faith and doubt. Why do we have faith? Why do we doubt?
Recently I’ve been reading The Preaching Life by Barbara Brown Taylor, so I can’t resist the opportunity to quote her in this sermon. In this book she writes, “God has given us good news in human form and has even given us the grace to proclaim it, but part of our terrible freedom is the freedom to lose our voices, to forget where we are going and why.” I have the suspicion that in that boat, the disciples forgot in the midst of fear, where they were going and why. Doubt had stolen silently into their hearts. They were not without their voices entirely, because they called out to Jesus “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” but they had certainly lost whatever voice of faith they had to accept Jesus’s invitation to the sea to begin with. It’s possible they did not forget where they were going and why, but they certainly forgot who they were going with. Still, we as the Church do often forget where we are going, because we don’t have a man following us around, napping just a few feet away that we can wake with our voices when they tremble with fear. Or do we? In the moment the disciples cried out, Jesus awoke, and the storms ceased, because the wind and the waters obeyed him then, and whether we struggle with this truth, the storms of our lives obey him now, and when we awake in the night, fearful and doubting, Jesus proclaims the same truth – “Peace! Be still!”
I believe that while Jesus did rebuke the disciples, he didn't rebuke them because of their questions, but because of their lack of faith when he was obviously present with them. That's the crux of this text - this narrative shows how the disciples reacted when they were present with Jesus, how much more are we prone to fear when our Jesus, Our God, Our Redeemer, cannot sit with us as a tangible presence while we sail into stormy seas? You see, I don't think Jesus desires us to quit asking questions, but instead, to seek after God when we are in stormy seas, and remember that our questions will be answered, though frustratingly in “the fullness of time,” and that in whatever storm we pass through, we are never without a God of Peace.
When Jesus spoke, he spoke peace into existence over winds that threatened the disciples. As believers called to be Christ in the world today, when we speak violence, we do not create peace. When we speak hate, we do not cause others to feel loved. God has the ability to breathe creation into existence; God also has the ability to breathe peace into the hearts of the disciples in this text -- but not only in this text. God continually breathes peace and love into the heart of the Church, building community through God's own creation of loving, welcoming homes and parishes. The Church Universal is called to be Jesus in the world and so, we are called to speak peace into existence into the lives of our friends, family, and anyone we come into contact with when the lives around us are thrown into stormy seas of turmoil. When we find ourselves in storms of injustice, we are asked to speak love and never be silent - we are asked to speak on behalf of the wounded so that through our outward expression of the inward hope we have, others may have hope and be healed.
Hearkening back to Barbara Brown Taylor, again she writes, “What appear to be death throes may be the strenuous pangs of birth.” In this text, maybe it’s both. As a Sacramental body, we are wise to remember the setting of this text – the sea. A perfect place for a baptism. The disciples find themselves weak in fear and scared to death. Pun intended. And because of Jesus, and Jesus alone, they are redeemed in that boat on those waters and in the wake of seeing Jesus’s power, believe in the glory of God when they once doubted. We who are baptized have also entered into this same sublime sea.
Speaking of the setting, the sea is a very primal entity to be what surrounds the disciples and Jesus in this text. There's no stop along the way to the other side to ask for directions. There's no GPS to ensure they know the way. There's no life preserver on board just in case a storm comes. Instead, they are taken into this completely natural setting with only one Savior - Jesus. Again, we too, as baptized believers, are not always given assurance that we know the way, or assurance that we will face no storms, but are assured that there is a Savior.
When the storms come in this primal sea, I think of creation - the cosmos coming about because God made order out of chaos. Exegetical studies explain that the word for “storm” in the text is also the word for “whirlwind.” The disciples were led into a sea of disorientation that led them away from the faith they had when they left the shore so willingly. In addition, scholars note that this same word for “storm” carries overtones of demonic power. In addition, the words “Peace! Be Still!” are the same words used by Jesus to heal a man possessed by a demon in an earlier Marcan text. When in these waters, it is almost as if the disciples were possessed by fear and doubt, and their hearts of faith were disoriented by their human reaction to fear and doubt the power of the very “ruler of Nature” that slept peacefully beside them in that boat on the sea.
I wonder if when we, as humans, are made from primal elements, some of those natural elements include fear and doubt, because that is how we are so naturally inclined to respond to the storms of our lives. And, because God knows us so intimately as our Creator, God places Jesus in the boat, so that someone can say to us, "Peace! Be still!" when we forget what it's like to feel peace and forget what it's like to know stillness. To go back to what Reed said, maybe doubt and faith steal silently into our hearts because they are a part of our creation. We have faith that there must be someone to save us when we are dry, but in the stormy waters we fear.
As I studied this text, something from the Book of Common Prayer kept coming to my mind. As many of you may know, I am currently being led into a life of uncharted waters as an aspirant for Holy Orders. One of my earliest assignments from Father Jeff was to read a certain prayer every single day, which I have tried to do. Surprisingly, with a somewhat scary text to preach on, it’s a thanksgiving – A General Thanksgiving, found on page 836 of the Book of Common Prayer. I use this to close, because I think the heart of this text may be to trust in God, as hard as that is, and in all things, to try to say – thanks be to God.
Let Us Pray:
Accept, O Lord, our thanks and praise for all that you have done for us. We thank you for the splendor of the whole creation, for the beauty of this world, for the wonder of life, and for the mystery of love.
We thank you for the blessing of family and friends, and for the loving care, which surrounds us on every side.
We thank you for setting us at tasks, which demand our best efforts, and for leading us to accomplishments, which satisfy and delight us.
We thank you also for those disappointments and failures that lead us to acknowledge our dependence on you alone.
Above all, we thank you for your Son Jesus Christ; for the truth of his Word and the example of his life; for his steadfast obedience, by which he overcame temptation; for his dying through which he overcame death; and for his rising to life again, in which we are raised to the life of your kingdom.
Grant us the gift of your Spirit, that we may know Christ and make him known; and through him, at all times and in all places, may give thanks to you in all things. Amen.
In the gospel text today, the first thing we notice is that Jesus encourages the disciples into this trip to "the other side." Jesus calls them to leave the "crowd" and venture into the Sea of Galilee, a sea known by the fisherman with Jesus to be dangerous and prone to storms. In the ancient world, seas were known to be chaotic, scary places, which harbored monsters of the deep that could only be controlled by the power of the ethereal God. Jesus calls them out of the comfort they know and into this sublime sea. The disciples faithfully take Jesus’s invitation, which almost seems to be the anti-thesis of foreshadowing, as we will see later in the text when there is a lack of faith.
For those of you that don’t know, I am a social networking guru. Enveloped in Facebook and constantly checking Gmail, and adding on a new addiction – Twitter. Twitter is a website that allows users to send 140 character messages to anyone that chooses to see their updates. A while ago, I got a Tweet, that is – an update from a friend on Twitter, from my friend Reed that read: "I am learning how close absolute faith is to certain doubt. Both steal silently into the heart." I immediately became captivated by the idea and knew I wanted to preach on this gospel text, because there was a common thread: faith and doubt. Why do we have faith? Why do we doubt?
Recently I’ve been reading The Preaching Life by Barbara Brown Taylor, so I can’t resist the opportunity to quote her in this sermon. In this book she writes, “God has given us good news in human form and has even given us the grace to proclaim it, but part of our terrible freedom is the freedom to lose our voices, to forget where we are going and why.” I have the suspicion that in that boat, the disciples forgot in the midst of fear, where they were going and why. Doubt had stolen silently into their hearts. They were not without their voices entirely, because they called out to Jesus “Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?” but they had certainly lost whatever voice of faith they had to accept Jesus’s invitation to the sea to begin with. It’s possible they did not forget where they were going and why, but they certainly forgot who they were going with. Still, we as the Church do often forget where we are going, because we don’t have a man following us around, napping just a few feet away that we can wake with our voices when they tremble with fear. Or do we? In the moment the disciples cried out, Jesus awoke, and the storms ceased, because the wind and the waters obeyed him then, and whether we struggle with this truth, the storms of our lives obey him now, and when we awake in the night, fearful and doubting, Jesus proclaims the same truth – “Peace! Be still!”
I believe that while Jesus did rebuke the disciples, he didn't rebuke them because of their questions, but because of their lack of faith when he was obviously present with them. That's the crux of this text - this narrative shows how the disciples reacted when they were present with Jesus, how much more are we prone to fear when our Jesus, Our God, Our Redeemer, cannot sit with us as a tangible presence while we sail into stormy seas? You see, I don't think Jesus desires us to quit asking questions, but instead, to seek after God when we are in stormy seas, and remember that our questions will be answered, though frustratingly in “the fullness of time,” and that in whatever storm we pass through, we are never without a God of Peace.
When Jesus spoke, he spoke peace into existence over winds that threatened the disciples. As believers called to be Christ in the world today, when we speak violence, we do not create peace. When we speak hate, we do not cause others to feel loved. God has the ability to breathe creation into existence; God also has the ability to breathe peace into the hearts of the disciples in this text -- but not only in this text. God continually breathes peace and love into the heart of the Church, building community through God's own creation of loving, welcoming homes and parishes. The Church Universal is called to be Jesus in the world and so, we are called to speak peace into existence into the lives of our friends, family, and anyone we come into contact with when the lives around us are thrown into stormy seas of turmoil. When we find ourselves in storms of injustice, we are asked to speak love and never be silent - we are asked to speak on behalf of the wounded so that through our outward expression of the inward hope we have, others may have hope and be healed.
Hearkening back to Barbara Brown Taylor, again she writes, “What appear to be death throes may be the strenuous pangs of birth.” In this text, maybe it’s both. As a Sacramental body, we are wise to remember the setting of this text – the sea. A perfect place for a baptism. The disciples find themselves weak in fear and scared to death. Pun intended. And because of Jesus, and Jesus alone, they are redeemed in that boat on those waters and in the wake of seeing Jesus’s power, believe in the glory of God when they once doubted. We who are baptized have also entered into this same sublime sea.
Speaking of the setting, the sea is a very primal entity to be what surrounds the disciples and Jesus in this text. There's no stop along the way to the other side to ask for directions. There's no GPS to ensure they know the way. There's no life preserver on board just in case a storm comes. Instead, they are taken into this completely natural setting with only one Savior - Jesus. Again, we too, as baptized believers, are not always given assurance that we know the way, or assurance that we will face no storms, but are assured that there is a Savior.
When the storms come in this primal sea, I think of creation - the cosmos coming about because God made order out of chaos. Exegetical studies explain that the word for “storm” in the text is also the word for “whirlwind.” The disciples were led into a sea of disorientation that led them away from the faith they had when they left the shore so willingly. In addition, scholars note that this same word for “storm” carries overtones of demonic power. In addition, the words “Peace! Be Still!” are the same words used by Jesus to heal a man possessed by a demon in an earlier Marcan text. When in these waters, it is almost as if the disciples were possessed by fear and doubt, and their hearts of faith were disoriented by their human reaction to fear and doubt the power of the very “ruler of Nature” that slept peacefully beside them in that boat on the sea.
I wonder if when we, as humans, are made from primal elements, some of those natural elements include fear and doubt, because that is how we are so naturally inclined to respond to the storms of our lives. And, because God knows us so intimately as our Creator, God places Jesus in the boat, so that someone can say to us, "Peace! Be still!" when we forget what it's like to feel peace and forget what it's like to know stillness. To go back to what Reed said, maybe doubt and faith steal silently into our hearts because they are a part of our creation. We have faith that there must be someone to save us when we are dry, but in the stormy waters we fear.
As I studied this text, something from the Book of Common Prayer kept coming to my mind. As many of you may know, I am currently being led into a life of uncharted waters as an aspirant for Holy Orders. One of my earliest assignments from Father Jeff was to read a certain prayer every single day, which I have tried to do. Surprisingly, with a somewhat scary text to preach on, it’s a thanksgiving – A General Thanksgiving, found on page 836 of the Book of Common Prayer. I use this to close, because I think the heart of this text may be to trust in God, as hard as that is, and in all things, to try to say – thanks be to God.
Let Us Pray:
Accept, O Lord, our thanks and praise for all that you have done for us. We thank you for the splendor of the whole creation, for the beauty of this world, for the wonder of life, and for the mystery of love.
We thank you for the blessing of family and friends, and for the loving care, which surrounds us on every side.
We thank you for setting us at tasks, which demand our best efforts, and for leading us to accomplishments, which satisfy and delight us.
We thank you also for those disappointments and failures that lead us to acknowledge our dependence on you alone.
Above all, we thank you for your Son Jesus Christ; for the truth of his Word and the example of his life; for his steadfast obedience, by which he overcame temptation; for his dying through which he overcame death; and for his rising to life again, in which we are raised to the life of your kingdom.
Grant us the gift of your Spirit, that we may know Christ and make him known; and through him, at all times and in all places, may give thanks to you in all things. Amen.
Monday, June 15, 2009
please?
i don’t want to care about anyone anymore. and i don’t even mean this in a romantic way, just in a general way (though it applies to my romantic feelings too).
question: can a future priest quit caring about people?
answer: it’s hard to serve people when you don’t care about them.
okay, i’ll keep caring, but sometimes it kills me to do so.
question: can a future priest quit caring about people?
answer: it’s hard to serve people when you don’t care about them.
okay, i’ll keep caring, but sometimes it kills me to do so.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
the issue of love.
obviously, the issue of gay marriage has been big in the media lately, so there's been a flood of commentary. most people that know me understand that while i am heterosexual, i absolutely adore just about every gay person i've ever met and want for them the same rights they want for themselves. that said, i've been watching the news and it's gotten me thinking. i have some questions i'm thinking about that i'd like to put into writing and open up to discussion.
disclaimer: i'm writing this from a Christian perspective, to create discourse about the issue of homosexuality as being a negative aspect to a person in the Christian community. because it's from a Christian perspective, i'm going to say things that won't be widely agreed with by people who don't associate themselves with Christianity. i'm not making these assumptions to be Christocentric, but instead, just to be clear about my thoughts on this issue in the Christian community.
so, God is love. i believe that with my whole being. and, if God is love, that means that God would be the author of love. God would write into all of creation the need for love and the desire to have and give love; God would breathe into the cosmos the breath of life and love. if this is true, and that God is love, wouldn't God be the sole authority on what love is? and if that's the case, and only God can define love because God is the source from which love comes, why do humans like myself quickly decide that we know how to define what love is, or what love isn't?
i heard a man on larry king tonight say this and i think it sums up my thoughts on the matter -- "You can't limit God; You can't limit Love."
naturally, this doesn't have to be completely about prop 8, but it was the prop 8 issue that got this on my mind. thoughts are welcomed :)
disclaimer: i'm writing this from a Christian perspective, to create discourse about the issue of homosexuality as being a negative aspect to a person in the Christian community. because it's from a Christian perspective, i'm going to say things that won't be widely agreed with by people who don't associate themselves with Christianity. i'm not making these assumptions to be Christocentric, but instead, just to be clear about my thoughts on this issue in the Christian community.
so, God is love. i believe that with my whole being. and, if God is love, that means that God would be the author of love. God would write into all of creation the need for love and the desire to have and give love; God would breathe into the cosmos the breath of life and love. if this is true, and that God is love, wouldn't God be the sole authority on what love is? and if that's the case, and only God can define love because God is the source from which love comes, why do humans like myself quickly decide that we know how to define what love is, or what love isn't?
i heard a man on larry king tonight say this and i think it sums up my thoughts on the matter -- "You can't limit God; You can't limit Love."
naturally, this doesn't have to be completely about prop 8, but it was the prop 8 issue that got this on my mind. thoughts are welcomed :)
Sunday, May 10, 2009
the chronicles of crazy -- health.
hey guys,
i took my first zoloft today and we're just going to see how this goes. i chose to start this medication while i was still in the troy/montgomery area so that i would be in an environment i am used to, so that i guess my body didn't go through any out of the ordinary shock that resulted in negative side effects from the medicine. i know it takes a month or two to kick in, but i figure the side effects can probably kick in immediately, so i'm going to closely monitor how i feel in the coming weeks. today, i felt fine, though really tired, which could have simply been the two benadryl i took the previous night around midnight due to allergies.
anyway, i'm continuing talk therapy once i get back in troy, but am going to do that alongside zoloft so that if anything negative happens my therapist/doctor is close by to respond to my reactions.
generally speaking, i look forward to maybe getting back some of the chemical balance that i think my mind lacks. furthermore, i don't know if i blogged this or not, but my blood work said i was anemic, so i started an iron supplement last night. i'm very positive about regaining my mental and physical health.
as always, keep me in your prayers/thoughts and remember -- it takes someone strong to get help, so don't hesitate to do so if you think you need it. almost every single day i feel crazy for feeling the way i do and for needing help, but i quickly realize how crazy i would be to refuse help and try to figure myself out completely. best wishes to each and every one of you that needs help -- you're human, and i applaud you for who you are and the strength you have. :)
blessings,
erin
i took my first zoloft today and we're just going to see how this goes. i chose to start this medication while i was still in the troy/montgomery area so that i would be in an environment i am used to, so that i guess my body didn't go through any out of the ordinary shock that resulted in negative side effects from the medicine. i know it takes a month or two to kick in, but i figure the side effects can probably kick in immediately, so i'm going to closely monitor how i feel in the coming weeks. today, i felt fine, though really tired, which could have simply been the two benadryl i took the previous night around midnight due to allergies.
anyway, i'm continuing talk therapy once i get back in troy, but am going to do that alongside zoloft so that if anything negative happens my therapist/doctor is close by to respond to my reactions.
generally speaking, i look forward to maybe getting back some of the chemical balance that i think my mind lacks. furthermore, i don't know if i blogged this or not, but my blood work said i was anemic, so i started an iron supplement last night. i'm very positive about regaining my mental and physical health.
as always, keep me in your prayers/thoughts and remember -- it takes someone strong to get help, so don't hesitate to do so if you think you need it. almost every single day i feel crazy for feeling the way i do and for needing help, but i quickly realize how crazy i would be to refuse help and try to figure myself out completely. best wishes to each and every one of you that needs help -- you're human, and i applaud you for who you are and the strength you have. :)
blessings,
erin
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