Monday, January 31, 2005
coming UP!
Correction!: The shrove Tuesday dinner will be held at St. Bartholomew's Church, not Trinity on February 8th. Dinner begins between 6:30pm and 7:00pm and ends no later than 9:30pm.
Blood Drive on February 4th in the auditorium from 2-6 PM.
Candlemas / Presentation of Our Lord service at 7:30pm on February 2nd.
If you are interested in joining us for the Wednesday Lenten Discussions beginning February 16th [dinner at 6:30, discussion following], you can purchase the book through amazon.com.
Here is the link.
Ash Wednesday Services February 9th at 7:00am, 10:00am [with no holy eucharist] and 7:00pm [Holy Eucharist]
Congratulations to our New Wardens - Gary Rogers and Catherine Alexander; our new vestry members Carolyn Lao, Anne Miressi, and Monica Reid.
|
Blood Drive on February 4th in the auditorium from 2-6 PM.
Candlemas / Presentation of Our Lord service at 7:30pm on February 2nd.
If you are interested in joining us for the Wednesday Lenten Discussions beginning February 16th [dinner at 6:30, discussion following], you can purchase the book through amazon.com.
Here is the link.
Ash Wednesday Services February 9th at 7:00am, 10:00am [with no holy eucharist] and 7:00pm [Holy Eucharist]
Congratulations to our New Wardens - Gary Rogers and Catherine Alexander; our new vestry members Carolyn Lao, Anne Miressi, and Monica Reid.
|
Comments by the Priest at the annual meeting
Lord, do something about your Church.
It is so awful, it is hard not to feel ashamed of belonging to it.
Most of the time it seems to be all the things you condemned:
hierarchical, conventional, judgmental, hypocritical,
respectable, comfortable, moralising, compromising,
clinging to its privileges and worldly securities,
and when not positively objectionable, merely absurd.
Lord, we need your whip of cords.
Judge us and cleanse us,
challenge and change us,
break and remake us.
Help us to be what you called us to be.
Help us to embody you on earth.
Help us to make you real down here,
and to feed your people bread instead of stones.
And start with me.
Last year I spoke about the decline of the mainline churches and the ways our churches would likely be reorganized in the future. I talked a bit about relationships and how our small church here could a locus, a focal point, a starting point, or a birthing place for small groups of people who could build relationships, and what such a church might look like.
What I want to do today is talk a bit about future churchmanship. And what I mean by that is say, "low-church" and "high-church" and what these terms might have meant and what kind of church we might instead be called to be apart from these former terms.
There was very little order when Christianity was first forming itself out of the ooze of mystical religions in the first few centuries. It wasn't really Christianity, but Christianities. Each one had peculiar sorts of mysteries and demands; and eventually Christians began to agree on two things: that Christ is the representation of God's love, especially as exemplified through the cross; and that the trinity was the way to explore this. They used various liturgies to inculcate those who would become Christians: people would spend many weeks preparing themselves, especially during Lent, listening to holy scripture as exegeted by a Bishop, and after forty days of severe penance - real penance, not the symbol of penance we require among the catechumens today - they would be baptized and permitted to feed upon Christ's body. That's about all that Christians agreed on, and I doubt that we would consider someone a Christian if they did not assent to Christ's crucifixion and resurrection as conveyed by the apostles; at least, we here share their faith in some presence that continues to live in our community. We experience God as knowing himself in the community of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, that God is irreducible to these three. God creates as a parent, God is known in the face of another, and God breathes his wisdom in the relationship we have through these two persons.
Our own faith, Anglicanism, that had once been Catholic, as you know, was a response to the political / spiritual corruption of the Roman Church. Some Anglicans, for a while, became very Presbyterian, suspicious of anything that seemed idolatrous or superstitious. During Elizabeth, the realm of classical Anglicanism reigned - honor the queen; say the prayerbook; but your vestments are irrelevant – wear them if you please, but don’t get anyone upset. There were some trends towards a more majestic and higher view of the church and its sacraments, but the after a bitter civil war, the different factions of the church coexisted.
In the 19th century, many churches adopted a form of catholicism - Anglo Catholicism. The services were sensual and vibrant; the priests deeply ambivalent about the claims of liberal capitalism and moral relativism; they were suspicious of individual conscience especially as it was being used to conquer other lands and avoid the real poverty of industrialism back home.
This church has always been part of the presbyterian, or low-church wing of the Anglican tradition. About 8 years ago you experienced the ministry of an Anglo-Catholic. When Fr. Sellery was here, he introduced Classical Anglicanism. But none of these forms are good suits for us, I suspect. Not any more.
Now, what is true that if we want to die, then we should continue what we've been doing. I know that some of you don't like change, but people generally know what they're going to get here. And they aren't coming. They won't. We might gain members if we join with other parishes; we might occasionally get good Christians who are tired of being abused by Catholics or Fundamentalists. But simply doing what we've been doing is just not an option.
It's not an option either to fit into an Anglo-Catholic suit. Nor can we simply fit ourselves into a classically Anglican costume. In fact, one parishioner said to me, quite angrily, "I don't know what you're doing, Gawain, but I'm not committed to what you're trying to do..." One thing he was saying was that he wasn't committed to Anglicanism and what he perceived my Anglicanism to be. But this view isn't that unusual: most people just aren't that committed to it anyways. Now I'm committed to it: I like the fact that Anglicanism allows people to think freely and broadly; I think that the liturgy recalls an amazing insight into the human soul and person; I think that our book is a complete and beautiful form of prayer. Our worship is succinct and complete; you don't need much more to get the point of what a religious life looks like. But the truth is that most people aren't at that point. They're more formed by Letterman and the Beatles than by Anglican worship.
So what kind of church are we called to be? Well, we aren't called to be a church for ourselves. We're called to be a church for others - to represent the highest, most complete, most beautiful, holiest part of the human soul, to be transformed into the courageous, magnanimous, liberated persons we can possibly be. Our praise of God and knowledge of Christ means that we know what its like to be always in gratitude about the blessings God has given us.
The church is changing: There is the Roman Catholic church, with their struggles; there are megachurches, which appropriate American culture in its style of worship the most, with its sound systems, strobe lights, and videostreams;and there is mainline protestantism, which tries to be theologically relevant, but as liturgically dead as it can possibly be. But other forms of church are emerging: the pentecostal church, and the emerging church to name a few. Some churches may decide they don't want to change: they might hire a part-time vicar that essentially does funerals and says the Sunday mass.
But then there is the post-modern church. Granted, I hate that word, but the sensibility is to convey a church that has decided: we're not simply taking the tradition carte-blanche. We're going to take all the traditions at our disposal to reach people and share with them the good news. We'll take some gospel from here, some chant from here; add some country, and learn how to move in our space. We want people to know God; and we're willing to reach them where they are, which is, by the way, generally Starbucks. They'll be listening to a Starbucks version of religious music, which is probably not merely ecumenical, but interfaith. That's the God that is reaching people.
It means that we might need to take some uncomfortable risks. If you want people to come into the church you have to invite them; and if you invite them, then you have to be moved by what you're inviting them to. And if we aren't moved, but bored, then we have to do things a bit differently. People need good reasons to be torn away from that cup of coffee and the NYT on Sunday mornings. They want to be inspired; they want to celebrate; and they want to be intimate with God. They want a religion they can take with them during the week. We can offer that to them, but it means that we're going to have to do some reflection about what kind of church we are, and what we want to be.
Over the next year, we'll be having several talks about liturgy and liturgical space in our church. We'll talk about reaching out to Latinos; building a space for multiple styles of worship; and learn about the process of inviting others.
I believe that there are good reasons to be in a church; that there are good messages worth sharing here; and that our rite, our ritual, can convey deep truths of which we must perpetually remind the culture; As Christians we are sent to reveal to people the truths of his word: that there is a future in this church; that we have seen a great light; and that Jew or Greek, we are free in his name. Amen.
|
It is so awful, it is hard not to feel ashamed of belonging to it.
Most of the time it seems to be all the things you condemned:
hierarchical, conventional, judgmental, hypocritical,
respectable, comfortable, moralising, compromising,
clinging to its privileges and worldly securities,
and when not positively objectionable, merely absurd.
Lord, we need your whip of cords.
Judge us and cleanse us,
challenge and change us,
break and remake us.
Help us to be what you called us to be.
Help us to embody you on earth.
Help us to make you real down here,
and to feed your people bread instead of stones.
And start with me.
Last year I spoke about the decline of the mainline churches and the ways our churches would likely be reorganized in the future. I talked a bit about relationships and how our small church here could a locus, a focal point, a starting point, or a birthing place for small groups of people who could build relationships, and what such a church might look like.
What I want to do today is talk a bit about future churchmanship. And what I mean by that is say, "low-church" and "high-church" and what these terms might have meant and what kind of church we might instead be called to be apart from these former terms.
There was very little order when Christianity was first forming itself out of the ooze of mystical religions in the first few centuries. It wasn't really Christianity, but Christianities. Each one had peculiar sorts of mysteries and demands; and eventually Christians began to agree on two things: that Christ is the representation of God's love, especially as exemplified through the cross; and that the trinity was the way to explore this. They used various liturgies to inculcate those who would become Christians: people would spend many weeks preparing themselves, especially during Lent, listening to holy scripture as exegeted by a Bishop, and after forty days of severe penance - real penance, not the symbol of penance we require among the catechumens today - they would be baptized and permitted to feed upon Christ's body. That's about all that Christians agreed on, and I doubt that we would consider someone a Christian if they did not assent to Christ's crucifixion and resurrection as conveyed by the apostles; at least, we here share their faith in some presence that continues to live in our community. We experience God as knowing himself in the community of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit, that God is irreducible to these three. God creates as a parent, God is known in the face of another, and God breathes his wisdom in the relationship we have through these two persons.
Our own faith, Anglicanism, that had once been Catholic, as you know, was a response to the political / spiritual corruption of the Roman Church. Some Anglicans, for a while, became very Presbyterian, suspicious of anything that seemed idolatrous or superstitious. During Elizabeth, the realm of classical Anglicanism reigned - honor the queen; say the prayerbook; but your vestments are irrelevant – wear them if you please, but don’t get anyone upset. There were some trends towards a more majestic and higher view of the church and its sacraments, but the after a bitter civil war, the different factions of the church coexisted.
In the 19th century, many churches adopted a form of catholicism - Anglo Catholicism. The services were sensual and vibrant; the priests deeply ambivalent about the claims of liberal capitalism and moral relativism; they were suspicious of individual conscience especially as it was being used to conquer other lands and avoid the real poverty of industrialism back home.
This church has always been part of the presbyterian, or low-church wing of the Anglican tradition. About 8 years ago you experienced the ministry of an Anglo-Catholic. When Fr. Sellery was here, he introduced Classical Anglicanism. But none of these forms are good suits for us, I suspect. Not any more.
Now, what is true that if we want to die, then we should continue what we've been doing. I know that some of you don't like change, but people generally know what they're going to get here. And they aren't coming. They won't. We might gain members if we join with other parishes; we might occasionally get good Christians who are tired of being abused by Catholics or Fundamentalists. But simply doing what we've been doing is just not an option.
It's not an option either to fit into an Anglo-Catholic suit. Nor can we simply fit ourselves into a classically Anglican costume. In fact, one parishioner said to me, quite angrily, "I don't know what you're doing, Gawain, but I'm not committed to what you're trying to do..." One thing he was saying was that he wasn't committed to Anglicanism and what he perceived my Anglicanism to be. But this view isn't that unusual: most people just aren't that committed to it anyways. Now I'm committed to it: I like the fact that Anglicanism allows people to think freely and broadly; I think that the liturgy recalls an amazing insight into the human soul and person; I think that our book is a complete and beautiful form of prayer. Our worship is succinct and complete; you don't need much more to get the point of what a religious life looks like. But the truth is that most people aren't at that point. They're more formed by Letterman and the Beatles than by Anglican worship.
So what kind of church are we called to be? Well, we aren't called to be a church for ourselves. We're called to be a church for others - to represent the highest, most complete, most beautiful, holiest part of the human soul, to be transformed into the courageous, magnanimous, liberated persons we can possibly be. Our praise of God and knowledge of Christ means that we know what its like to be always in gratitude about the blessings God has given us.
The church is changing: There is the Roman Catholic church, with their struggles; there are megachurches, which appropriate American culture in its style of worship the most, with its sound systems, strobe lights, and videostreams;and there is mainline protestantism, which tries to be theologically relevant, but as liturgically dead as it can possibly be. But other forms of church are emerging: the pentecostal church, and the emerging church to name a few. Some churches may decide they don't want to change: they might hire a part-time vicar that essentially does funerals and says the Sunday mass.
But then there is the post-modern church. Granted, I hate that word, but the sensibility is to convey a church that has decided: we're not simply taking the tradition carte-blanche. We're going to take all the traditions at our disposal to reach people and share with them the good news. We'll take some gospel from here, some chant from here; add some country, and learn how to move in our space. We want people to know God; and we're willing to reach them where they are, which is, by the way, generally Starbucks. They'll be listening to a Starbucks version of religious music, which is probably not merely ecumenical, but interfaith. That's the God that is reaching people.
It means that we might need to take some uncomfortable risks. If you want people to come into the church you have to invite them; and if you invite them, then you have to be moved by what you're inviting them to. And if we aren't moved, but bored, then we have to do things a bit differently. People need good reasons to be torn away from that cup of coffee and the NYT on Sunday mornings. They want to be inspired; they want to celebrate; and they want to be intimate with God. They want a religion they can take with them during the week. We can offer that to them, but it means that we're going to have to do some reflection about what kind of church we are, and what we want to be.
Over the next year, we'll be having several talks about liturgy and liturgical space in our church. We'll talk about reaching out to Latinos; building a space for multiple styles of worship; and learn about the process of inviting others.
I believe that there are good reasons to be in a church; that there are good messages worth sharing here; and that our rite, our ritual, can convey deep truths of which we must perpetually remind the culture; As Christians we are sent to reveal to people the truths of his word: that there is a future in this church; that we have seen a great light; and that Jew or Greek, we are free in his name. Amen.
|
Friday, January 28, 2005
the things that pull us up short
whether it's the weather, or an unimaginable disaster, or the flu, or a disability, or the wear and tear of the years, some things just plain pull up us short and we are presented with the opportunity to look at our lives and deep within ourselves and have a long conversation with God.
i have been quite ill for over a month now. i have not been @ my parish, i have not been innundated with get well cards or phone calls. it has been disheartening and humiliating. of the two, the second is more important: the first is about ego, the second is about faith.
it is helping me get back to some essential truths (that sometimes elude persons of 'the cloth' as well as the woman on the street): a) i am not the center of the universe, i'm not the center of the parish, and, with the exception of my dog, it is not essential that i be in the picture; b)in our day-to-day lives most of us plug along, not thinking things are changing or will change, not pondering our essential frailty, not looking at the extraordinary in the everyday. and then.... something pulls us up short.
i got a bulletin: God has pulled me up short. i am dependent on the Divine for just about everything (including providing me with the dog full of unconditional love). i invite you to take a moment.... perhaps it won't take bringing you to your knees to bring you to your senses.
|
i have been quite ill for over a month now. i have not been @ my parish, i have not been innundated with get well cards or phone calls. it has been disheartening and humiliating. of the two, the second is more important: the first is about ego, the second is about faith.
it is helping me get back to some essential truths (that sometimes elude persons of 'the cloth' as well as the woman on the street): a) i am not the center of the universe, i'm not the center of the parish, and, with the exception of my dog, it is not essential that i be in the picture; b)in our day-to-day lives most of us plug along, not thinking things are changing or will change, not pondering our essential frailty, not looking at the extraordinary in the everyday. and then.... something pulls us up short.
i got a bulletin: God has pulled me up short. i am dependent on the Divine for just about everything (including providing me with the dog full of unconditional love). i invite you to take a moment.... perhaps it won't take bringing you to your knees to bring you to your senses.
|
Monday, January 24, 2005
Gathering Sermon
For those of you who missed it! [On matthew 4:12-23]
Well, it's nice to see everyone here today - I'm impressed. We have our own mini-apocalypse going on out there. I think Gary thinks that we're supposed to celebrate the Eucharist with a shovel.
Whever there is a storm we get a little taste of the world that scripture arises from - a mini apocalypse. Since we're in an affluent, post-industrial capitalist society, so we miss, perhaps, the real sense of hardship that people had when there were major storms. But still, the streets are empty; cars get totaled; and you're not in charge. The weather is. You might be frustrated, resigned, or worried. Perhaps all three. At least we're not generally worried about life and death; just a little worried.
Jesus has just left the wilderness and he's going to gather disciples. The image here you should have is post-apocalyptic. Jesus is a little like Mad Max or Kevin Costner in the Postman: the world is in darkness; and people are in despair.
If you want to understand scripture, don't start with Genesis. Start with the apocalypse - start with Babylon destroying the Israelite people, scattering them all over the land. Start with Satan sending Jesus out into the wilderness. This is where the Gospel seed is first planted.
Most people begin interpreting Christianity with the golden rule. And its easy to misunderstand Christianity as being a nice form of neighborliness. Now, its true - you should be a good neighbor to be a Christian. And you should be a nice neighbor to other faiths - although some liberals might say that's not what Christians do at all. But every religion wants people to be friendly and good to others. Religions do try to teach respect.
But our faith begins at a peculiar point - in the midst of utter destruction; when our homes have been destroyed; when the containers of our faith have been shattered. Christian ethics doesn't start off with the problem of people not being nice to each other; it starts off with people having nothing and being in exile. To be even more clear, I suspect that you'd have a better sense of Christian ethics by watching post-apocalyptic movies than reading the chicken soup series.
So what does Jesus do? Well, he rests - he gathers himself. He gets ready. And then he gathers disciples. Formerly they were lower class fishermen; now, he offers them something else. He tears them away from the social fabric of the apocalypse, and promises something new. Repent, he says: the way you thought before the apocalypse won't do anymore. The Kingdom of God is breaking in.
A few years ago, Fr. Ted C. had to conduct services at the 8:00 service in the midst of another storm. Gary was the only person who came by. So they went and started driving around the area, shoveling people out of their driveway, getting people out of the snowbanks where they were stuck. There's a mini apocalypse, and Ted gathered the people; saved them, even.
Jesus is getting us unstuck from our pre-apocalyptic thinking, and saying, here is something new and wonderful breaking in.
Camus, in The Plague, tells of how people responded when they found their community was infected by the plague. It was quarantined by the state. Many tried to break the quarantine; others tried to break the quarantine helping only after realizing it was fruitless; and some just did what they could to gather the bodies; help who they could; and gather for another day. Jesus also chose the third; he would gather the people. The kingdom is near, and it's not the Roman one.
Our faith is not merely a do unto others faith - that's good; but it's not merely Christian. It's do unto others after the apocalypse, which is much harder. I think there is some truth to the idea that you don't know who's on your side until the worst happens to you. And there's Jesus, who is always gathering those who've got no reason; no future; no hope; gathering these broken people to welcome the new kingdom. Blessed is he, wonderful counselor. May we be able to gather others; may we be so gathered.
|
Well, it's nice to see everyone here today - I'm impressed. We have our own mini-apocalypse going on out there. I think Gary thinks that we're supposed to celebrate the Eucharist with a shovel.
Whever there is a storm we get a little taste of the world that scripture arises from - a mini apocalypse. Since we're in an affluent, post-industrial capitalist society, so we miss, perhaps, the real sense of hardship that people had when there were major storms. But still, the streets are empty; cars get totaled; and you're not in charge. The weather is. You might be frustrated, resigned, or worried. Perhaps all three. At least we're not generally worried about life and death; just a little worried.
Jesus has just left the wilderness and he's going to gather disciples. The image here you should have is post-apocalyptic. Jesus is a little like Mad Max or Kevin Costner in the Postman: the world is in darkness; and people are in despair.
If you want to understand scripture, don't start with Genesis. Start with the apocalypse - start with Babylon destroying the Israelite people, scattering them all over the land. Start with Satan sending Jesus out into the wilderness. This is where the Gospel seed is first planted.
Most people begin interpreting Christianity with the golden rule. And its easy to misunderstand Christianity as being a nice form of neighborliness. Now, its true - you should be a good neighbor to be a Christian. And you should be a nice neighbor to other faiths - although some liberals might say that's not what Christians do at all. But every religion wants people to be friendly and good to others. Religions do try to teach respect.
But our faith begins at a peculiar point - in the midst of utter destruction; when our homes have been destroyed; when the containers of our faith have been shattered. Christian ethics doesn't start off with the problem of people not being nice to each other; it starts off with people having nothing and being in exile. To be even more clear, I suspect that you'd have a better sense of Christian ethics by watching post-apocalyptic movies than reading the chicken soup series.
So what does Jesus do? Well, he rests - he gathers himself. He gets ready. And then he gathers disciples. Formerly they were lower class fishermen; now, he offers them something else. He tears them away from the social fabric of the apocalypse, and promises something new. Repent, he says: the way you thought before the apocalypse won't do anymore. The Kingdom of God is breaking in.
A few years ago, Fr. Ted C. had to conduct services at the 8:00 service in the midst of another storm. Gary was the only person who came by. So they went and started driving around the area, shoveling people out of their driveway, getting people out of the snowbanks where they were stuck. There's a mini apocalypse, and Ted gathered the people; saved them, even.
Jesus is getting us unstuck from our pre-apocalyptic thinking, and saying, here is something new and wonderful breaking in.
Camus, in The Plague, tells of how people responded when they found their community was infected by the plague. It was quarantined by the state. Many tried to break the quarantine; others tried to break the quarantine helping only after realizing it was fruitless; and some just did what they could to gather the bodies; help who they could; and gather for another day. Jesus also chose the third; he would gather the people. The kingdom is near, and it's not the Roman one.
Our faith is not merely a do unto others faith - that's good; but it's not merely Christian. It's do unto others after the apocalypse, which is much harder. I think there is some truth to the idea that you don't know who's on your side until the worst happens to you. And there's Jesus, who is always gathering those who've got no reason; no future; no hope; gathering these broken people to welcome the new kingdom. Blessed is he, wonderful counselor. May we be able to gather others; may we be so gathered.
|
Sunday, January 23, 2005
Snowstorm
Because of the snowstorm, the deacon and the organist will not be driving to White Plains. I don't expect most of the LOLs to come down. Still, I'll preach a sermon, and make it a roarin' one for all the dedicated parizzoners who represent in the holy of holies. We'll sing everything acapella, which is an adventure only the truly faithful can comprehend.
Peace to all who crave it.
|
Peace to all who crave it.
|
Thursday, January 20, 2005
Rowan Williams on Euthanasia
"What anyone’s life means is not exclusively his own affair. He lives in relation — to others and to a society. At the simplest level, what often most shocks and grieves people who have been close to a suicide is the feeling that someone who has killed himself did not know what he really meant to his friends or family, did not know that he was loved and valued. And even when someone who contemplates suicide is confident that he has no friends or family to hurt, we can hardly say that his life is without significance just because he says so; the society he lives in has a view about the worth of human life which cannot be mortgaged to how any individual feels."
Read it all
|
Read it all
|
Tuesday, January 18, 2005
Corinthians Sermon
Corinthians Sermon
A sermon on I Corinthians 1:1-19
Life doesn't really change after high school.
Just like high school, the real world has cliques. The nerds, musicians, jocks and do-gooders oftne find themselves in similar groups afterwards. And there are the jocks of the business world, the geeks who develop the technology and ideas, and the do gooders who enter the non-profit world or public service.
It wasn't different when Paul wrote to Corinth. The Corinthians took "freedom in Christ" to new levels. Were there any rules? Not there. They'd been liberated - from both the subtle world of paganism, and the clear legalism of Judaism. They were free. And enjoying it. As this is a PG sermon, I won't explore how they were free.
Now, any seasoned Anarchist will tell you that when there are no rules, old rules appear. Absent any kind of mandate for new habits, old habits reappeared. So there were a few followers of Apollos; others who followed Paul; others who followed Cephas. They returned to their own cliques. It was a divided church, one full of dissension, envy and promiscuity.
Now Paul observes how he contributed. He says, look, if my baptizing you has sown seeds of confusion, then I'm glad I didn't do any more. If you think following me was the point, then I've been misunderstood. Its Jesus Christ, and not whoever running the factions down there. If my baptizing contributed to these strange factions, then forget it. You're all getting it wrong.
He also says, now you who think you're smart, watch out. You're no better than TV pundits. If you're so called "wisdom" is making you lose sight of what the goal is, then you might want to reconsider your "wisdom." We know that wisdom, of course is a good thing - but when you use wisdom to puff up your faction, then we're not doing anyone any favors.
Now of course, we know there are always groups and cliques. Right here we've got the ECW, our local cheerleaders. The Vestry, perhaps they are the church geeks, and the choir - they're the jocks. And we know that there's been some infighting here. Perhaps each one of those factions is trying to get the ear of the pastor.
Not much different in the work world. People get invited to the bars after work; and the men, perhaps, decide to go to a strip club with some clients, without their female colleagues. The patterns of cliquishness are hard to diminish. And after all, we need groups to form some kind of identity.
Now, I've got nothing against social groups or cliques. If you want to join a sorority, that's your call; if you want to be a part of the "in" team, go ahead. If you want to be part of the pious group of Christians telling others what to do, then you'll get your reward.
But the consequences of such cliquishness were poisonous in Corinth. What happens in the midst of cliquishness? Envy, for example - that pernicous desire to diminish the successes of others. Some want to be part of one group; others want to take down another. And resentment becomes common - that vile belief that you deserve more than another person; that you've been unjustly slighted and ignored. Envy and resentment infiltrate everything. They even guide the way people urge repentence and forgiveness - you know the way some say "I forgive you" not because they've had a change of heart, but because of a secret for of contempt they have, to push condemned away; or even those who ask for repentance, not because they are all that clear about what God has in mind, but because they want you to be more like them and not the sort of person God has called you to be.
Once we free ourselves from our common bond in Jesus from the chains of resentment, we have new options - which Paul later describes. He affirms that we become part of one body. We may still be distinctive - one is the arm; another the head; another the foot. But instead of a pattern of cliquishness, we see ourselves as bound to one another as we are committed to Christ. And yes, it's not easy, because our cliques are comforting in themselves, and its hard to give ourselves over to this new pattern that reveals us to be, not jocks, or choristers, or Apollos followers, but as new human beings in Jesus Christ. Our identity is fully transformed into something deeper and more wonderful, and more truly liberated. We are free from those resentments that make us rivals against and over one another. And that's hard, especially in a society were being rivals is what gives people status and meaning.
But here now, in this church, we choose something different; not to be followers of any clique, but instead as people who know the resurrection of Jesus Christ; in him our old selves are revealed to be merely convenient masks to get by in the world; and our new selves, not liberated as the Corinthians misunderstood, but truly liberated in the Holy Spirit. May our identity be known through and in Him.
[preached without notes]
|
A sermon on I Corinthians 1:1-19
Life doesn't really change after high school.
Just like high school, the real world has cliques. The nerds, musicians, jocks and do-gooders oftne find themselves in similar groups afterwards. And there are the jocks of the business world, the geeks who develop the technology and ideas, and the do gooders who enter the non-profit world or public service.
It wasn't different when Paul wrote to Corinth. The Corinthians took "freedom in Christ" to new levels. Were there any rules? Not there. They'd been liberated - from both the subtle world of paganism, and the clear legalism of Judaism. They were free. And enjoying it. As this is a PG sermon, I won't explore how they were free.
Now, any seasoned Anarchist will tell you that when there are no rules, old rules appear. Absent any kind of mandate for new habits, old habits reappeared. So there were a few followers of Apollos; others who followed Paul; others who followed Cephas. They returned to their own cliques. It was a divided church, one full of dissension, envy and promiscuity.
Now Paul observes how he contributed. He says, look, if my baptizing you has sown seeds of confusion, then I'm glad I didn't do any more. If you think following me was the point, then I've been misunderstood. Its Jesus Christ, and not whoever running the factions down there. If my baptizing contributed to these strange factions, then forget it. You're all getting it wrong.
He also says, now you who think you're smart, watch out. You're no better than TV pundits. If you're so called "wisdom" is making you lose sight of what the goal is, then you might want to reconsider your "wisdom." We know that wisdom, of course is a good thing - but when you use wisdom to puff up your faction, then we're not doing anyone any favors.
Now of course, we know there are always groups and cliques. Right here we've got the ECW, our local cheerleaders. The Vestry, perhaps they are the church geeks, and the choir - they're the jocks. And we know that there's been some infighting here. Perhaps each one of those factions is trying to get the ear of the pastor.
Not much different in the work world. People get invited to the bars after work; and the men, perhaps, decide to go to a strip club with some clients, without their female colleagues. The patterns of cliquishness are hard to diminish. And after all, we need groups to form some kind of identity.
Now, I've got nothing against social groups or cliques. If you want to join a sorority, that's your call; if you want to be a part of the "in" team, go ahead. If you want to be part of the pious group of Christians telling others what to do, then you'll get your reward.
But the consequences of such cliquishness were poisonous in Corinth. What happens in the midst of cliquishness? Envy, for example - that pernicous desire to diminish the successes of others. Some want to be part of one group; others want to take down another. And resentment becomes common - that vile belief that you deserve more than another person; that you've been unjustly slighted and ignored. Envy and resentment infiltrate everything. They even guide the way people urge repentence and forgiveness - you know the way some say "I forgive you" not because they've had a change of heart, but because of a secret for of contempt they have, to push condemned away; or even those who ask for repentance, not because they are all that clear about what God has in mind, but because they want you to be more like them and not the sort of person God has called you to be.
Once we free ourselves from our common bond in Jesus from the chains of resentment, we have new options - which Paul later describes. He affirms that we become part of one body. We may still be distinctive - one is the arm; another the head; another the foot. But instead of a pattern of cliquishness, we see ourselves as bound to one another as we are committed to Christ. And yes, it's not easy, because our cliques are comforting in themselves, and its hard to give ourselves over to this new pattern that reveals us to be, not jocks, or choristers, or Apollos followers, but as new human beings in Jesus Christ. Our identity is fully transformed into something deeper and more wonderful, and more truly liberated. We are free from those resentments that make us rivals against and over one another. And that's hard, especially in a society were being rivals is what gives people status and meaning.
But here now, in this church, we choose something different; not to be followers of any clique, but instead as people who know the resurrection of Jesus Christ; in him our old selves are revealed to be merely convenient masks to get by in the world; and our new selves, not liberated as the Corinthians misunderstood, but truly liberated in the Holy Spirit. May our identity be known through and in Him.
[preached without notes]
|
Wednesday, January 05, 2005
A Letter from Bishop Taylor
The following is a letter to the Episcopal Diocese of New York from Bishop E. Don Taylor as he prepares for his visit to India.
Dear Brothers and Sisters,
Several months ago, our Bishop, the Rt. Rev. Mark S. Sisk, asked me to make a visit to the Diocese of Madras at the invitation of the Bishop there, to address the Synod of the Church in Madras which meets next week, January 12 – 15, 2005. Everything has been done in preparation for that visit and I am due to leave for Madras on Monday, January 10. The purpose of the visit is for me to address the Synod, strengthen the bonds of fellowship between our two Dioceses, for me to have an opportunity to see something of the work of the Church in Madras and to explore ways by which we can be of mutual support to each other.
As you all know, the whole area of southern Asia was recently hit by the earthquake and Tsunami which has left untold damage to life and to property in a way hitherto unknown. The suffering and dislocation in people’s lives defy description and the people of the area are still in a state of great suffering. The Bishop of Madras has insisted that I must come as my presence on your behalf will do much to encourage the people of the area.
On Monday, when I go, I will be going in your name: on behalf of the Bishops, the clergy, and the people of the Episcopal Diocese of New York. On Wednesday, when I address the Synod, I will do so for all of us. I will also hand over to the Diocese the monies collected in many of our congregations, with the assurance that more will come as they are received by the Rev. Gerald Keucher at our Diocesan office. It will also be my pleasure to offer the first installment of financial gifts from St. Hilda’s and St. Hugh’s School towards the rebuilding of a school in the Diocese of Madras.
My prayer is that the gifts from the clergy and people of our Diocese and the promise of more to come will in some way provide a tangible expression of our love and our care for our brothers and sisters in that area of southern Asia. I am sure that they will be grateful to all of us. Let me hasten to say, however, that in spite of the great help which our financial support will provide, I do believe that our presence with them in the midst of their suffering and loss will also be of immeasurable help to them. I am therefore asking that you and your congregations make this visit a matter of prayer. I personally would welcome your fervent prayers for a visit that will be a pathway of blessing and hope for the people of the area. Through this visit may we all offer those gifts and blessings which neither money nor other material resources can provide.
At regular intervals on the visit, I will relay updated information through our communications office for our website. When I return, a full report will be given to the Episcopal New Yorker. In the meantime, please encourage your people to give generously, and you may send your collections to the office of our Diocesan Controller, the Rev. Gerald Keucher. He in turn will wire your contributions to the Bishop and Diocese of Madras for distribution. If there are designated funds for special needs or projects, please state that and your wishes will be honored.
Thank you all for your love, your care and your support and please do make this visit a matter of prayer as together we seek to bring God’s message of hope to our suffering brothers and sisters.
Warmly yours in Our Lord’s Service,
The Right Reverend E. Don Taylor
Vicar Bishop for New York City
|
Dear Brothers and Sisters,
Several months ago, our Bishop, the Rt. Rev. Mark S. Sisk, asked me to make a visit to the Diocese of Madras at the invitation of the Bishop there, to address the Synod of the Church in Madras which meets next week, January 12 – 15, 2005. Everything has been done in preparation for that visit and I am due to leave for Madras on Monday, January 10. The purpose of the visit is for me to address the Synod, strengthen the bonds of fellowship between our two Dioceses, for me to have an opportunity to see something of the work of the Church in Madras and to explore ways by which we can be of mutual support to each other.
As you all know, the whole area of southern Asia was recently hit by the earthquake and Tsunami which has left untold damage to life and to property in a way hitherto unknown. The suffering and dislocation in people’s lives defy description and the people of the area are still in a state of great suffering. The Bishop of Madras has insisted that I must come as my presence on your behalf will do much to encourage the people of the area.
On Monday, when I go, I will be going in your name: on behalf of the Bishops, the clergy, and the people of the Episcopal Diocese of New York. On Wednesday, when I address the Synod, I will do so for all of us. I will also hand over to the Diocese the monies collected in many of our congregations, with the assurance that more will come as they are received by the Rev. Gerald Keucher at our Diocesan office. It will also be my pleasure to offer the first installment of financial gifts from St. Hilda’s and St. Hugh’s School towards the rebuilding of a school in the Diocese of Madras.
My prayer is that the gifts from the clergy and people of our Diocese and the promise of more to come will in some way provide a tangible expression of our love and our care for our brothers and sisters in that area of southern Asia. I am sure that they will be grateful to all of us. Let me hasten to say, however, that in spite of the great help which our financial support will provide, I do believe that our presence with them in the midst of their suffering and loss will also be of immeasurable help to them. I am therefore asking that you and your congregations make this visit a matter of prayer. I personally would welcome your fervent prayers for a visit that will be a pathway of blessing and hope for the people of the area. Through this visit may we all offer those gifts and blessings which neither money nor other material resources can provide.
At regular intervals on the visit, I will relay updated information through our communications office for our website. When I return, a full report will be given to the Episcopal New Yorker. In the meantime, please encourage your people to give generously, and you may send your collections to the office of our Diocesan Controller, the Rev. Gerald Keucher. He in turn will wire your contributions to the Bishop and Diocese of Madras for distribution. If there are designated funds for special needs or projects, please state that and your wishes will be honored.
Thank you all for your love, your care and your support and please do make this visit a matter of prayer as together we seek to bring God’s message of hope to our suffering brothers and sisters.
Warmly yours in Our Lord’s Service,
The Right Reverend E. Don Taylor
Vicar Bishop for New York City
|
Tuesday, January 04, 2005
Coming Up
This Saturday, there will be a spectacular performance at the
Cathedral of St. John the Divine for a performance at 1:30. We'll
leave from the church at 12:30.
For more information
http://www.3kingsreyes.info/
If you are interested in donating to help victims of
the tsunami, you may try www.er-d.org
or make a check out to St. Barts for the tsunami relief fund. We'll
then make out a check to the Diocese of New York for the Diocese of
Madras.
Liturgy meeting on JANUARY 20th at 7:00pm [a change from the 13th].
January 30th is our annual meeting after church. The meeting meeting
will begin with a mass.
Some deadlines: articles for the newsletter due by January 13th;
Committee Reports are due by January 18th so we can send out the
reports and agenda by the 25th.
|
Cathedral of St. John the Divine for a performance at 1:30. We'll
leave from the church at 12:30.
For more information
http://www.3kingsreyes.info/
If you are interested in donating to help victims of
the tsunami, you may try www.er-d.org
or make a check out to St. Barts for the tsunami relief fund. We'll
then make out a check to the Diocese of New York for the Diocese of
Madras.
Liturgy meeting on JANUARY 20th at 7:00pm [a change from the 13th].
January 30th is our annual meeting after church. The meeting meeting
will begin with a mass.
Some deadlines: articles for the newsletter due by January 13th;
Committee Reports are due by January 18th so we can send out the
reports and agenda by the 25th.
|
Monday, January 03, 2005
Tsunami Sermon
I paraphrase one wag – “Human evil is easy to explain. It’s earthquakes that threaten to break the faith.”
Scripture agonizes over God’s presence in nature. The psalmist knows God through nature; and yet John understand God as not in the world. It’s easy to find God in a sunset, in the thrill of being at the top of a mountain; in a blooming flower. Surely God is God because he did create all that is, and it is amazing.
Some see God in the aftermath of such disaster. Maybe he wanted the revolutionaries in Aceh to submit to the Indonesian military; or he was tired of the civil war in Sri Lanka, thinking – you petty humans, if you really want destruction, let me tell you what I can do. No religion was safe from his wrath - Hindu Mystics, Thai brothels, mosques, teak framed temples and churches, nunneries and beach huts, all broken before the surging, indiscriminate waves.
Disasters aren’t new to Christians. On Nov. 1, 1755, 60,000 perished, from a quake, the tsunami and the fires after a great earthquake struck offshore of Lisbon. Voltaire, the French humanist writer, savaged the prevailing theology of perfect worlds, smashing through the myth that the universe is carefully calibrated, that "all is good" and "all is necessary," that this is the best of all possible worlds. How could good be found in the value of "infants crushed upon their mothers' breasts," the dying "sad inhabitants of desolate shores," the whole "fatal chaos of individual miseries"?
After the quake, Europe changed; Portugal became a dictatorship; the Jesuits fell from power; the wrath of God inflamed the Methodists and New England puritans. That the world was perfect was torn down; that humanity could do, must do, better became its renewed rallying cry.
Was the world ever perfect? Jerusalem's walls had come tumbling down before; tsunamis have come and gone; every year, it seems, hundreds of thousands die in Bangladesh due to flooding.
Evil in humanity, is fairly easy to explain. But natural calamities usually seem a greater challenge to the certitudes of believers in a just and beneficent God than the sorrows induced by human iniquity.
On thing is true – that we are in the world; we’re part of the natural world, and our own evil and the destruction of the world, should bother us no differently. One theologian remarked: “it is useless to invoke the balances of the great chain of being, for that chain is held in God's hand and he is not enchained.”
But what is not true is that the world, as it is, is in perfect accord with His existence. He does not preside over every leaf falling; every earthquake or waterfall or volcanic ash; not everything is held perfectly together.
Rather, to suffer, die, or sin, lacks meaning at all. What we do say is that we’ve lived in the shadow of an ancient catastrophe, and that this world is broken. But our time is not true time, and that our world is bound to powers that are foreign to God.
Even though we say that “God wins,” if it seems like optimism, it’s not an easy one; Jesus defeated death; but he will also come again in the future, and transform all things. . for us now, we carry on the battle between good and evil, light and dark, freedom and slavery, true knowledge and deception, faith and fear.
When we contemplate the savage immensity of suffering – the entire rim of the Indian Ocean with rotting children’s bodies, we don’t need to make trite and banal statements about God being a great counselor or God’s good judgment or His mystery.
It is enough simply to hate evil and death and suffering and waste and idiocy, to know that our love, our sharing, our generosity, our charity is what we have to sustain ourselves against our fate, or our chance, the random evil that continually threatens us.
Our faith can survive such disasters. What we can do, is help one another, and continue looking in the distance, knowing that while creation is in agony, in our hands we have the tools to do a little, open a small breathing space, light a candle, hold a hand, or carry a dead body lovingly to its grave.
|
Scripture agonizes over God’s presence in nature. The psalmist knows God through nature; and yet John understand God as not in the world. It’s easy to find God in a sunset, in the thrill of being at the top of a mountain; in a blooming flower. Surely God is God because he did create all that is, and it is amazing.
Some see God in the aftermath of such disaster. Maybe he wanted the revolutionaries in Aceh to submit to the Indonesian military; or he was tired of the civil war in Sri Lanka, thinking – you petty humans, if you really want destruction, let me tell you what I can do. No religion was safe from his wrath - Hindu Mystics, Thai brothels, mosques, teak framed temples and churches, nunneries and beach huts, all broken before the surging, indiscriminate waves.
Disasters aren’t new to Christians. On Nov. 1, 1755, 60,000 perished, from a quake, the tsunami and the fires after a great earthquake struck offshore of Lisbon. Voltaire, the French humanist writer, savaged the prevailing theology of perfect worlds, smashing through the myth that the universe is carefully calibrated, that "all is good" and "all is necessary," that this is the best of all possible worlds. How could good be found in the value of "infants crushed upon their mothers' breasts," the dying "sad inhabitants of desolate shores," the whole "fatal chaos of individual miseries"?
After the quake, Europe changed; Portugal became a dictatorship; the Jesuits fell from power; the wrath of God inflamed the Methodists and New England puritans. That the world was perfect was torn down; that humanity could do, must do, better became its renewed rallying cry.
Was the world ever perfect? Jerusalem's walls had come tumbling down before; tsunamis have come and gone; every year, it seems, hundreds of thousands die in Bangladesh due to flooding.
Evil in humanity, is fairly easy to explain. But natural calamities usually seem a greater challenge to the certitudes of believers in a just and beneficent God than the sorrows induced by human iniquity.
On thing is true – that we are in the world; we’re part of the natural world, and our own evil and the destruction of the world, should bother us no differently. One theologian remarked: “it is useless to invoke the balances of the great chain of being, for that chain is held in God's hand and he is not enchained.”
But what is not true is that the world, as it is, is in perfect accord with His existence. He does not preside over every leaf falling; every earthquake or waterfall or volcanic ash; not everything is held perfectly together.
Rather, to suffer, die, or sin, lacks meaning at all. What we do say is that we’ve lived in the shadow of an ancient catastrophe, and that this world is broken. But our time is not true time, and that our world is bound to powers that are foreign to God.
Even though we say that “God wins,” if it seems like optimism, it’s not an easy one; Jesus defeated death; but he will also come again in the future, and transform all things. . for us now, we carry on the battle between good and evil, light and dark, freedom and slavery, true knowledge and deception, faith and fear.
When we contemplate the savage immensity of suffering – the entire rim of the Indian Ocean with rotting children’s bodies, we don’t need to make trite and banal statements about God being a great counselor or God’s good judgment or His mystery.
It is enough simply to hate evil and death and suffering and waste and idiocy, to know that our love, our sharing, our generosity, our charity is what we have to sustain ourselves against our fate, or our chance, the random evil that continually threatens us.
Our faith can survive such disasters. What we can do, is help one another, and continue looking in the distance, knowing that while creation is in agony, in our hands we have the tools to do a little, open a small breathing space, light a candle, hold a hand, or carry a dead body lovingly to its grave.
|
