Sermon Nov. 15th 24th Sunday after Pentecost
Mark 13 1 – 8
This morning’s Gospel lesson causes many of us to wonder about the end of time for earth. In today’s Gospel Jesus tell his disciples about the destruction of the temple that will happen in the near future. Remember some of his followers were Zealots’ and they wanted to drive Rome out of Israel. With the revolt of the Jews against the Romans in 70 A.D. the temple was destroyed and time as the Jews knew it was over.
What will happen during the end of days? Every generation, since the disciples saw Jesus return to Heaven, has had people who expected the end of time to happen now or soon.
That is why the Epistles remind us to live expecting Jesus to return at any minute. The church developed because the “end” didn’t come in the disciple’s lifetime. So, why was Jesus telling the disciples about the destruction of the Temple?
For Jesus we are not supposed to live worried about the future because we are to live in the “Here and now”. What would your life look like if you lived each day as if that day was your last day on earth?
Would you yell a cuss word to the person driving the car that cut you off in traffic? How about the neighbor who ran over your flower bed or “accidently” knocked part of your fence down? Would you growl at the boss at work because he gave you another assignment at the last minute and expects it tomorrow morning? Would you leave the house in a hurry and forget to tell your wife, husband or children that you love them? Would you want it to be over when you were fishing, or golfing, or working in the yard?
I’ve always thought of when it would happen for me. As a Deacon I have always wanted it to happen when I was serving at the altar. Yea! And, I want my funeral to be during the principle service on a Sunday, like it was done for clergy in the middle ages.
Bishop Moody tells a story of a preacher giving a sermon like this when he was a child and sitting in a pew. The Preacher stopped in the middle of the sermon, pointed to the aisle and said the angel of the Lord is coming to take me home. And then he died in the pulpit.
When is the end of time? How will it happen? Jesus told us that we were not to wonder instead we were to live life abundantly as if today is your last day on earth!
Amen.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Wednesday, June 17, 2009
Shaping the Soul
“When physical eyesight declines,” Plato said, “spiritual eyesight increases.”
Every major spiritual tradition knows as one of its core experiences a period of major divestment, of total renunciation of that which shaped a person before he or she began the great spiritual quest. In this period, the seeker considers the meaning of life and death, of the spiritual and material, of Earth and its beyond, of the soul in contact with the great soul within.
This is the period when we evaluate everything we have come to know about life and look for a dimension above the things of this world, for the sake of what is yet to come. The search means, then, that we strip ourselves of whatever it is we have accrued until this time in order to give ourselves wholly to the birthing of the person within. Into this part of life we travel light. When I look around the crowded room and wonder why I am keeping a large desk when a smaller one would do just as well, something inside of me is beginning to change.
When three sets of dishes are two sets too many, I have begun to need more than just things. When the house is too crowded and the car is too big and the perfect lawn is too much of a bother, I have begun a whole new adventure in life.
It is the shaping of the soul that occupies us now. Now, consciously or, more likely, not, we set out to find out for ourselves who we really are, what we know, what we care about, and how to be simply enough for ourselves in the world.
— from The Gift of Years: Growing Older Gracefully by Joan Chittister
Every major spiritual tradition knows as one of its core experiences a period of major divestment, of total renunciation of that which shaped a person before he or she began the great spiritual quest. In this period, the seeker considers the meaning of life and death, of the spiritual and material, of Earth and its beyond, of the soul in contact with the great soul within.
This is the period when we evaluate everything we have come to know about life and look for a dimension above the things of this world, for the sake of what is yet to come. The search means, then, that we strip ourselves of whatever it is we have accrued until this time in order to give ourselves wholly to the birthing of the person within. Into this part of life we travel light. When I look around the crowded room and wonder why I am keeping a large desk when a smaller one would do just as well, something inside of me is beginning to change.
When three sets of dishes are two sets too many, I have begun to need more than just things. When the house is too crowded and the car is too big and the perfect lawn is too much of a bother, I have begun a whole new adventure in life.
It is the shaping of the soul that occupies us now. Now, consciously or, more likely, not, we set out to find out for ourselves who we really are, what we know, what we care about, and how to be simply enough for ourselves in the world.
— from The Gift of Years: Growing Older Gracefully by Joan Chittister
Friday, March 13, 2009
Some days are just like that! Nothing extraordinary. It was a quiet, joy-filled day. I had the opportunity to catch up with a few old friends. I enjoyed some time with my grandson after school. Then Laurie and I attended a wonderful "Tulsa Foundation for Education" banquet as the guests of a dear friend.
So what kept me from my discipline with this site? Hard to say. I'm not too sure yet what the focus is. There have been a few comments posted, but not much interaction. I suppose I had hoped for more, although in truth, I had no reason for such expectations.
So I set aside time each day for some focused reading and reflection. Usually the time leads me to my computer and the thoughts become images and words on the screen. Yesterday, nothing.
So I am living with the ambiguity of my commitment to post regularly and the challenge of deciding whether what I end up writing and posting is forced because of the commitment or an expression of the Spirit that I look for.
This simple act of discernment makes for some anxious moments, although not in a way that causes me any real distress. So, I will keep at it and continue to seek ways to invite the Spirit into this space. I thank those of you that have checked in from time to time and offered expressions of support.
I look forward to exploring opportunities for this endeavor to become a medium for community, collegial conversation.
So what kept me from my discipline with this site? Hard to say. I'm not too sure yet what the focus is. There have been a few comments posted, but not much interaction. I suppose I had hoped for more, although in truth, I had no reason for such expectations.
So I set aside time each day for some focused reading and reflection. Usually the time leads me to my computer and the thoughts become images and words on the screen. Yesterday, nothing.
So I am living with the ambiguity of my commitment to post regularly and the challenge of deciding whether what I end up writing and posting is forced because of the commitment or an expression of the Spirit that I look for.
This simple act of discernment makes for some anxious moments, although not in a way that causes me any real distress. So, I will keep at it and continue to seek ways to invite the Spirit into this space. I thank those of you that have checked in from time to time and offered expressions of support.
I look forward to exploring opportunities for this endeavor to become a medium for community, collegial conversation.
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Saving Grace
I don't normally endorse television programming. There are (a few) shows I enjoy and (a whole lot) that I just don't get or appreciate. In particular, I would not presume to do use this particular blog site for such a recommendation . . . but there is an exception that I am moved to make.
If you have not yet seen it, I recommend that you check out the TV show, Saving Grace. New episodes appear on Monday evenings on the TNT network. Here is a snippet from the show's web site:
SAVING GRACE stars Holly Hunter in an astonishing performance as Grace Hanadarko, a top-notch, forceful investigator whose wild personal life translates into a no-holds-barred approach to her detective work. Whether skirting the law in order to get an illegal alien to talk to the police, using a tornado as an opportunity to interrogate a suspect, or protecting a witness by having him spend the night in her own home, Grace is the kind of detective any homicide squad would be lucky to have.
When her life reaches its darkest, Grace is visited by an unconventional angel named Earl. Earl is determined to calm Grace's wild instincts. To help guide her, he weaves a mixture of folksy wisdom and cryptic clues. Grace's mesmerizing journey involves facing both the internal and external demons that stand in her way.
Interestingly enough, the show is set in Oklahoma City, with accurate references to the locale and the local passion for college football. The real attraction for me is following Grace's powerfully portrayed inner struggle and her conversations with Earl, her guardian angel, and with her brother, a priest. The juxtaposition of this spiritual journey with her stressful job and wild private life are powerful. [A word of warning: The show is "earthy." Foul language and sexuality are prevalent.]
When thinking about the show, I often imagine what my own "Earl" is like. How would I respond if I were as regularly and physically confronted with those things I do that separate me from God? (I know, I know. Those messages are there.) While it would be challenging having an "angel" drop in from time to time, it might be a lot easier than having to sort through all the people and messages God puts in my way. I guess "easy" isn't the goal . . . sigh.
If you have not yet seen it, I recommend that you check out the TV show, Saving Grace. New episodes appear on Monday evenings on the TNT network. Here is a snippet from the show's web site:
SAVING GRACE stars Holly Hunter in an astonishing performance as Grace Hanadarko, a top-notch, forceful investigator whose wild personal life translates into a no-holds-barred approach to her detective work. Whether skirting the law in order to get an illegal alien to talk to the police, using a tornado as an opportunity to interrogate a suspect, or protecting a witness by having him spend the night in her own home, Grace is the kind of detective any homicide squad would be lucky to have.
When her life reaches its darkest, Grace is visited by an unconventional angel named Earl. Earl is determined to calm Grace's wild instincts. To help guide her, he weaves a mixture of folksy wisdom and cryptic clues. Grace's mesmerizing journey involves facing both the internal and external demons that stand in her way.
Interestingly enough, the show is set in Oklahoma City, with accurate references to the locale and the local passion for college football. The real attraction for me is following Grace's powerfully portrayed inner struggle and her conversations with Earl, her guardian angel, and with her brother, a priest. The juxtaposition of this spiritual journey with her stressful job and wild private life are powerful. [A word of warning: The show is "earthy." Foul language and sexuality are prevalent.]
When thinking about the show, I often imagine what my own "Earl" is like. How would I respond if I were as regularly and physically confronted with those things I do that separate me from God? (I know, I know. Those messages are there.) While it would be challenging having an "angel" drop in from time to time, it might be a lot easier than having to sort through all the people and messages God puts in my way. I guess "easy" isn't the goal . . . sigh.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Expecting the unexpected
I have had a number of encounters with my grandson these past few weeks. Each one has reminded me of the blessing of family. Each one refreshes my understanding of the love and care Our Father had for his own Son. I don't equate myself with Him. But I am blessed to understand to some degree the extraordinary gift He gave to us in the person of His Son.
Last week I began providing after-school pick-up and care for my grandson, Chris. I offered some months ago. This means I show up at his elementary school every afternoon, meet him, take him home, help him with his homework (although in truth, he needs almost no help), and then just be with him until one or the other of his Mom or Dad can come by.
The truly unexpected in this was the recalled joy of seeing all the young faces each day at Chris' school. Some are disheveled, some immaculately groomed. Some are small, some large. Some are walking confidently alone, others are holding hands with another as though still uncertain of the moment.
Some children are weighed down by backpacks that seem twice their own size. Chris used to have one of these and he looked like a man on a mission as he walked briskly down the hall, leaning forward under the weight of his pack. It was almost as if he had to walk rapidly or the weight of his pack would push him forward onto his face in mid-stride.
IN addition to school, Chris and I have been attending church together for the last few months. He asked to attend (remarkable enough for a young boy) and I was delighted to accommodate. I pick him up each Sunday morning and drop him off back home afterwards. He began asking about Communion and then, after discussing it with his parents, he began receiving. There is an inner voice present in him urging him on and helping him to explore the mysteries in all we celebrate each Sunday. He follows along with most of the service (a statement which is probably a fair observation about me, truth be told). His desire to attend keeps me accountable. When it might be easy to sleep in or relax on Sunday mornings, I cannot. Aside from disappointing him, I can't bear the thought of missing out on observing his journey.
One last vignette . . . Last week, I helped Chris' Dad take him and his two small brothers to a season-ending gathering for Chris' youth basketball team. The league was sponsored by a downtown mega-church. The ending celebration was laden with a strong evangelical pitch from the church. All the young kids sat with their teammates in this large hall (some 100-150 boys and girls). Family and friends sat apart. Auditorium-wide games were played . . . many with religious "messages." All designed to provide organized fun for hundreds of people. Familiar tunes played over the loudspeakers with lyrics changed to present Christian messages (e.g., think Beach Boys music and sing "Help me Jesus. Help, help me Jesus).
Finally, the overt sermon asking each child to embrace a "Jesus as their personal Lord and Savior." Cards were distributed to everyone and each was asked to provide name and phone contact information. Most children dutifully filled out their card without thought. Should I have been angry that this event presumed upon the awakening Chris has been undergoing? Or should I be confident that the messages of evangelism buried within "fun activities" would not derail Chris' new faith exploration" Perhaps it could deepen his new faith and provide opportunities for questions.
Each of these events provides me unexpected encounters with Jesus . . . all in the faces of children. Whatever other joys and concerns I have about these moments, I am blessed for these reminders of His presence and a faith that permits me to see Him there (whether or not I understand it all).
Last week I began providing after-school pick-up and care for my grandson, Chris. I offered some months ago. This means I show up at his elementary school every afternoon, meet him, take him home, help him with his homework (although in truth, he needs almost no help), and then just be with him until one or the other of his Mom or Dad can come by.
The truly unexpected in this was the recalled joy of seeing all the young faces each day at Chris' school. Some are disheveled, some immaculately groomed. Some are small, some large. Some are walking confidently alone, others are holding hands with another as though still uncertain of the moment.
Some children are weighed down by backpacks that seem twice their own size. Chris used to have one of these and he looked like a man on a mission as he walked briskly down the hall, leaning forward under the weight of his pack. It was almost as if he had to walk rapidly or the weight of his pack would push him forward onto his face in mid-stride.
IN addition to school, Chris and I have been attending church together for the last few months. He asked to attend (remarkable enough for a young boy) and I was delighted to accommodate. I pick him up each Sunday morning and drop him off back home afterwards. He began asking about Communion and then, after discussing it with his parents, he began receiving. There is an inner voice present in him urging him on and helping him to explore the mysteries in all we celebrate each Sunday. He follows along with most of the service (a statement which is probably a fair observation about me, truth be told). His desire to attend keeps me accountable. When it might be easy to sleep in or relax on Sunday mornings, I cannot. Aside from disappointing him, I can't bear the thought of missing out on observing his journey.
One last vignette . . . Last week, I helped Chris' Dad take him and his two small brothers to a season-ending gathering for Chris' youth basketball team. The league was sponsored by a downtown mega-church. The ending celebration was laden with a strong evangelical pitch from the church. All the young kids sat with their teammates in this large hall (some 100-150 boys and girls). Family and friends sat apart. Auditorium-wide games were played . . . many with religious "messages." All designed to provide organized fun for hundreds of people. Familiar tunes played over the loudspeakers with lyrics changed to present Christian messages (e.g., think Beach Boys music and sing "Help me Jesus. Help, help me Jesus).
Finally, the overt sermon asking each child to embrace a "Jesus as their personal Lord and Savior." Cards were distributed to everyone and each was asked to provide name and phone contact information. Most children dutifully filled out their card without thought. Should I have been angry that this event presumed upon the awakening Chris has been undergoing? Or should I be confident that the messages of evangelism buried within "fun activities" would not derail Chris' new faith exploration" Perhaps it could deepen his new faith and provide opportunities for questions.
Each of these events provides me unexpected encounters with Jesus . . . all in the faces of children. Whatever other joys and concerns I have about these moments, I am blessed for these reminders of His presence and a faith that permits me to see Him there (whether or not I understand it all).
Sunday, March 8, 2009
Unexpected Jesus
I've heard someone say that Lent is about finding Christ in the most unexpected places. I'm not sure who said it, but I like that image. It causes me to reflect. When have I unexpectedly seen Christ?
So, for this reflection, I'd like to ask you to respond:
Can you recall an unexpected encounter with Jesus?
Would you share it with me by commenting?
I have something of my own experience in mind, but I think I will wait to post more tomorrow evening so as to provide space for your responses. I look forward to hearing from you as the Spirit moves you.
So, for this reflection, I'd like to ask you to respond:
Can you recall an unexpected encounter with Jesus?
Would you share it with me by commenting?
I have something of my own experience in mind, but I think I will wait to post more tomorrow evening so as to provide space for your responses. I look forward to hearing from you as the Spirit moves you.
Saturday, March 7, 2009
St. Andrew's Lives On
I grew up in Kentucky. Although I have lived in Tulsa longer than I did in Louisville, I still have a fond regard for "My Old Kentucky Home." My brother lives there as did my parents until their deaths in recent years. Laurie's parents live there as does her sister and brother and their families. So, in many ways we remain deeply connected.
I grew up in the loving care of the parish family of St. Andrew's Episcopal Church in Louisville. (I still receive their weekly newsletter, The St. Andrean, and enjoy reading of people I knew when I was small, of seasonal rituals that live on, and of challenges the congregation faces and responds to). I sang in the youth choir and served as an acolyte. I helped with Sunday School and I helped Mom as she prepared meals for numerous church gatherings. I was challenged in confirmation class led by Dr. Anderson and confirmed by Bishop Marmion (I can still hear his aristocratic Virginia accent).
I came of age spiritually among young people in the diocese and especially at diocesan camps and youth events. I was a camp counselor at the diocesan camp grounds---All Saint's on Rough River Reservoir near Litchfield, Kentucky. Laurie and I first met at one such camping experience. My first real job was teaching at an Episcopal School in Goshen, Kentucky.
These warm memories from my church life form a significant part of who I am, physically, emotionally and spiritually. Of course, there were pains and tribulations as well, but for me these fade into the background more readily than do the positive moments. When I recall the unpleasant, I now regard them with the perspective of time as challenges and opportunities rather than as wounds.
What people, places and stories are a part of who you are today? As we walk together, you bless me with all that you are, including these parts of your own journey.
I grew up in the loving care of the parish family of St. Andrew's Episcopal Church in Louisville. (I still receive their weekly newsletter, The St. Andrean, and enjoy reading of people I knew when I was small, of seasonal rituals that live on, and of challenges the congregation faces and responds to). I sang in the youth choir and served as an acolyte. I helped with Sunday School and I helped Mom as she prepared meals for numerous church gatherings. I was challenged in confirmation class led by Dr. Anderson and confirmed by Bishop Marmion (I can still hear his aristocratic Virginia accent).
I came of age spiritually among young people in the diocese and especially at diocesan camps and youth events. I was a camp counselor at the diocesan camp grounds---All Saint's on Rough River Reservoir near Litchfield, Kentucky. Laurie and I first met at one such camping experience. My first real job was teaching at an Episcopal School in Goshen, Kentucky.
These warm memories from my church life form a significant part of who I am, physically, emotionally and spiritually. Of course, there were pains and tribulations as well, but for me these fade into the background more readily than do the positive moments. When I recall the unpleasant, I now regard them with the perspective of time as challenges and opportunities rather than as wounds.
What people, places and stories are a part of who you are today? As we walk together, you bless me with all that you are, including these parts of your own journey.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Jesus, you stilled the storm
He was in such pain. His voice mail message this evening was tired and with a quiet urgency I could hear in his voice, he asked for me to return the call as soon as I could. He had, "something to share with me." I did not hear his incoming call. I had my grandson with me in the car when the message arrived and was taking him to a basketball season ending team party. Once I arrived at the party location with my grandson, got him settled in with his friends and their pizza, I saw the voice mail message. I stepped out of the room to return the call.
My friend was quiet when I asked how he was doing. I could hear his pain as he searched for the words he would use. He lives far, far away, but he needed to talk with an old friend and he chose me. I waited patiently for him to speak and then he shared that his wife had just been checked into a hospital after trying to kill herself. He didn't know who else to call. I listened, sharing just the presence he sought without trying to fix anything. How could I?
I asked whether he needed me to come there, and he said "No."
I asked him if there was anything he needed me to do for him. He said, "No, just don't tell [mutual friends and his sister]. I'm not ready for them to know."
I said "OK." Then more silence. He just needed to be connected with someone else in his pain.
He asked what the children's voices were he was overhearing, and I explained that I was at a now raucous kid's pizza party. He laughed and said he wished he could be here. I said I wish he could too. I offered to have a pizza delivered directly to him and hold the phone up so he could join the party "virtually." He chuckled and said that wouldn't be necessary. The contrast of his pain and the children's unbridled joy was powerful.
He said the hospital would not let him see his wife except for one hour each morning and afternoon for the next several days while they assessed her condition, and then he began to well up again. His soul mate was in unimaginable pain and he could not be with her.
He said he needed to go and just thanked me for being there. He said he would call me tomorrow. I said he and his wife and their son would be in my prayers.
When I got home I emailed him a short prayer that I often use in my own times of pain and distress. And I prayed for him, for his wife and for their son, that they might find peace in this time of terrible pain. I offer to you the prayer I sent him. Some of you have seen or heard it before, but I ask you to accept this gift in his name and add my friend, his wife and their son to your prayer list. At his request, I cannot share with you their names, but God knows who they are.
Jesus, you stilled the storm
and walked to your friends across turbulent waters,
saying to them, "Take heart."
Help me not to lose courage in this rough weather
and always to remember
that this same ocean that tosses my little boat,
and makes such fearful rowing,
bears me up.
My friend was quiet when I asked how he was doing. I could hear his pain as he searched for the words he would use. He lives far, far away, but he needed to talk with an old friend and he chose me. I waited patiently for him to speak and then he shared that his wife had just been checked into a hospital after trying to kill herself. He didn't know who else to call. I listened, sharing just the presence he sought without trying to fix anything. How could I?
I asked whether he needed me to come there, and he said "No."
I asked him if there was anything he needed me to do for him. He said, "No, just don't tell [mutual friends and his sister]. I'm not ready for them to know."
I said "OK." Then more silence. He just needed to be connected with someone else in his pain.
He asked what the children's voices were he was overhearing, and I explained that I was at a now raucous kid's pizza party. He laughed and said he wished he could be here. I said I wish he could too. I offered to have a pizza delivered directly to him and hold the phone up so he could join the party "virtually." He chuckled and said that wouldn't be necessary. The contrast of his pain and the children's unbridled joy was powerful.
He said the hospital would not let him see his wife except for one hour each morning and afternoon for the next several days while they assessed her condition, and then he began to well up again. His soul mate was in unimaginable pain and he could not be with her.
He said he needed to go and just thanked me for being there. He said he would call me tomorrow. I said he and his wife and their son would be in my prayers.
When I got home I emailed him a short prayer that I often use in my own times of pain and distress. And I prayed for him, for his wife and for their son, that they might find peace in this time of terrible pain. I offer to you the prayer I sent him. Some of you have seen or heard it before, but I ask you to accept this gift in his name and add my friend, his wife and their son to your prayer list. At his request, I cannot share with you their names, but God knows who they are.
Jesus, you stilled the storm
and walked to your friends across turbulent waters,
saying to them, "Take heart."
Help me not to lose courage in this rough weather
and always to remember
that this same ocean that tosses my little boat,
and makes such fearful rowing,
bears me up.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Questions
"Live the questions. Perhaps then, someday far in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer." Rainer Maria Rilke
Most of you know that I teach. Many years ago, one of my first jobs and passions out of college was as a teacher in a K-9 school near Louisville, Kentucky. Now, I teach college undergraduates. In almost every course I teach, I will often leave students fumbling around with what I'm sure they feel are vague assignments. While students generally want to know specifically what they have to do and know and how long I want it, I respond with unsettling comments like: "It needs to be long enough to explore and answer the question," or I don't know what you need to know yet, because I'm still figuring it out." I want the students to learn to deal with the uncertainty and, in that condition, permit themselves to explore the topic with (hopefully) some creativity or curiosity. Those who seize the opportunity will always reap a greater reward than those anxious only for answers.
I will always tell my students, "It is almost always more important to ask good questions than to come up with good answers." Having answers has always led me perilously towards complacency. I may have contributions or observations to add to the conversation, but --- when I'm honest with myself --- I fully admit that better questions and the best answers will come, if at all, only after a space is carefully created for others to contribute. The grace this adds to the learning community is the opportunity to see in myself and in others greater possibilities than were acknowledged before.
Lord help me to give thanks for the questions and the patience to search for your presence in them.
Most of you know that I teach. Many years ago, one of my first jobs and passions out of college was as a teacher in a K-9 school near Louisville, Kentucky. Now, I teach college undergraduates. In almost every course I teach, I will often leave students fumbling around with what I'm sure they feel are vague assignments. While students generally want to know specifically what they have to do and know and how long I want it, I respond with unsettling comments like: "It needs to be long enough to explore and answer the question," or I don't know what you need to know yet, because I'm still figuring it out." I want the students to learn to deal with the uncertainty and, in that condition, permit themselves to explore the topic with (hopefully) some creativity or curiosity. Those who seize the opportunity will always reap a greater reward than those anxious only for answers.
I will always tell my students, "It is almost always more important to ask good questions than to come up with good answers." Having answers has always led me perilously towards complacency. I may have contributions or observations to add to the conversation, but --- when I'm honest with myself --- I fully admit that better questions and the best answers will come, if at all, only after a space is carefully created for others to contribute. The grace this adds to the learning community is the opportunity to see in myself and in others greater possibilities than were acknowledged before.
Lord help me to give thanks for the questions and the patience to search for your presence in them.
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