Showing posts with label preaching. Show all posts
Showing posts with label preaching. Show all posts

Sunday, February 16, 2020

Sermon: Epiphany 6 2020

Thank you, your Honour. Gentleman of the jury, and ladies listening on the other side of the wall; yes we know you are there.

Now, I may just be a humble country pharisee and not one of those high-falutin city lawyers from Rome, but it seems to me that the defendant here is in deeper than a pooh bear in a honey tree. He’s been caught, you see, trying to have his law and eat it, too. This Jesus character is giving a free pass to every floussey and Roman stooge between the Jordan River and the sea, between Sidon and Beersheeba. He has sullied himself with the company of the unwashed, the lame, the collaborators, and even Samaritans.

Now, all this might be excusable. I know, I know.. Might be excusable... but what kind of so-called Rabbi, I ask you, would interpret that law in such a novel way as the benefit the very audience of his teachings? I submit that his message is more dangerous than it at first appears, and that we must reject these innovations and certainly not follow or imitate his foolishness.

You see, gentleman of the jury and ladies listening outside, there is no question that the central principle of our law is retributive justice. When man, woman, servant, or oxen does wrong, they harm three persons: their victim, the law itself, and themselves. God is no victim here, and He is not the law, but he is the Righteous Judge who gives us His Torah. ‘I call heaven and earth to witness against you today that I have set before you life and death, blessings and curses’ as the good book says. What matters to the law of retribution is not the victim, and it’s not the accused, but upholding the sacred order of our sacred covenant. What’s at stake is the fabric of our constitution. Deuteronomy lays it out clearly like a treaty: we have history with our God and in light of that He has given us the law, the Torah, and that law is a law of balance. A law of restoring the moral order of the universe. "If... then..." promises of the way the world works.

In our system of retributive justice, gentleman and eaves-dropping ladies, what matters is the crime itself. And the punishment must match the crime: an eye of eye, a tooth for a tooth, a life for a life. Proportional, yes, but not situational. You are to set aside, gentleman and lurking ladies, all such utilitarian concerns for the effect such punishments might bring upon this-or-that defendant or this-or-that victim. Set aside, too, speculation about social well-being in our community, the rippling effects down the line. Don’t think about the future; instead, think of the vast expanse of interstellar law. There is something much bigger at stake, here, a delicate mechanism that must be maintained. Think of the most abstract sense of the arch of the moral universe--that is what you are here for. The universe is like a giant pan-scale: the arms of this scale are very long, and you need not worry yourselves about this circumstance or that person. Focus on the law. Focus on the offense that was done.

In our system of retributive justice, gentleman and ladies-in-waiting, we have put away a selfish concern for revenge. Our system does not take the place of an aggrieved party, no no, the law IS the aggrieved party. If there is any actor at all here, it is the collective wisdom of the scribes and judges acting for the people. This has brought social cohesion and reduced the chaotic and arbitrary nature of blood feuds. Remember that a society that slays together, stays together.

And, I know what you are thinking, gentleman of the jury and ladies-of-the-corridor. You are thinking, what about restorative justice or "transformative justice?" What about rehabilitation?

Restorative Justice somehow imagines that people can find new ways to “just get along.” That a process of sharing and testimony ca change lives and bring people back into society. And Transformative Justice goes even further and imagines that crime and misdoings are an opportunity to change society itself to prevent such infractions in the first place.

Well, I’m just a humble country pharisee, but I think that’s just a load of liberal nonsense. As Immanuel Kant points out all we know is the law and all justice belongs to the state. If we start treating people as individuals we can no longer claim that the law, or our justice is impartial or universal. Retributive justic is not personal: what matters in the universality of crime and punishment. Thinking about individuals is going to send us into a downward spiral of circumstance and intention.

And that is exactly the problem with our defendant. This so-called Rabbi claims to fulfill the Law of the Moses. Listen to his own words and how they condemn him:
Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfil. For truly I tell you, until heaven and earth pass away, not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all is accomplished. Therefore, whoever breaks one of the least of these commandments, and teaches others to do the same, will be called least in the kingdom of heaven; but whoever does them and teaches them will be called great in the kingdom of heaven. For I tell you, unless your righteousness exceeds that of the scribes and Pharisees, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.
Non one letter. Not one stroke a letter, he says. And yet in the very next sentence he begins with this telling phrase, “You have heard it said to those of ancient times…” Gentleman of the jury and ladies hiding in the hall, I bid you ask, "what ancient times were these? The time of Moses? The time of our grandfathers, the times of our fathers? Our times?"

This man, I tell you, is an innovator! An innovator! “You have heard it said…” indeed. It was said. It was said for hundreds of years. And now this man has come to abolish all this. How? How does this so-called Rabbi undermine the very principle of retributive justice? I tell you, he does it with the dangerous idea that the goal of justice ought to be other people. That’s right, he believes that the purpose of the law is to create and sustain relationships between neighbours and between us and God.

Consider how he treats murder. We all know what murder is. Now, I may just be a humble country pharisee, but even I know that a murder case is an easy case. You just find who done it, drag them in front of a judge, and then kill them. The scales of justice are balanced. Easy peasey. Now this so-called-Rabbi has you all confused thinking about murder is a sliding scale. Maybe in matters if the murder was planned or done in the heat of the moment. Worse, he says outright that murder is something that can live your heart as hate or jealously. What an odd notion, gentleman and sneaky-ladies. Weirder still, he says that if you are angry you are liable to judgement. Really? It’s as though the purpose of the law was to do with the human heart. It’s as though our motivations and our feelings have something to do with the law. Balderdash.

Gentleman of the jury and ladies listening close… how can that be true? I’m in charge of my actions, not my thoughts. What man hasn’t looked lustfully at a woman? If I were to go into the corridor right now I’m sure some lady would provoke me with an exposed ankle. And who’s fault is that? Her's, of course. Yet this so-called Rabbi would put such a gaze in a spectrum with adultery itself. As though I was responsible for the things I think. "Keep the law out of my head," I say, "and hands-off-my-heart. My heart is mine, and I’ll lust, and I’ll huff, and I’ll swear if I want to."

This so called Rabbi is leading you down a false path, gentleman and ladies-who-should-be-at-home. A path that leads to some truly strange places. Consider how his own words condemn him in the court of common sense:
Do not resist an evildoer. But if anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn the other also; and if anyone wants to sue you and take your coat, give your cloak as well; and if anyone forces you to go one mile, go also the second mile. Give to everyone who begs from you, and do not refuse anyone who wants to borrow from you.” ‘You have heard that it was said, “You shall love your neighbour and hate your enemy.” But I say to you, Love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you, so that you may be children of your Father in heaven.
Gentleman of the jury and whispering-women, I hope for his sake this is more hyperbole of the gouge-out your own eye or cut off your own hand variety. Because if this so-called Rabbi truly lives this way I fear he will come to a painful end. And so will you, I fear, if you reject the way of retributive justice.

Because if you turn away from focusing on the crime and the law you will instead find yourselves sympathizing with victims and perpetrators. You will find yourself listening to terrible stories and feeling terrible things. You will waste your time trying to prevent these crimes from happening in the first place. You will sit in uncomfortable places between sworn enemies. And when bad things happen to you, you will move-on from them and ignore the call of revenge.

I urge you, gentleman of the Jury, to take refuge in the law. I mean the very letter of the law. Focus on the crimes, not the people. Think of how the truly aggrieved party here is the law itself. Do not be distracted by all this love and forgiveness business. This man, this so-called Rabbi, has not come to extend the Law of Moses into our hearts. He has come to change the very foundation of that law from retribution to restoration, and you cannot accept it.

The very worst thing you could do, Gentleman and ladies-who-listen, the very worst thing would be for you to come away from this proceeding believing that you have the power to extend the law of Moses yourselves. Please, do not imagine that some Spirit has come to inhabit you and allowed you to interpret the law on your own. Please, do not examine your own hearts. Leave that to those of us with the long robes and places of honour. We pharisees and scribes have the answers for you.

Even worse would be to imagine that this so-called Rabbi could somehow show by word and example how to interpret the law. His life is not an example. In no way could you see his life and teachings as some kind of key that unlocks a new level of interpretation of the law given to Moses.

My fear, gentleman and hidden-ladies, is that people will remember this rabbi. That tiny bands will gather and invoke his presence and try to imitate his concern for the poor and the marginalized. Don’t do it, folks!

And I thank you, gentleman, for making the law great again.

Thursday, March 20, 2014

Sermon: Lent 1, 2014



Unlike Gandolf wrestling the Balrog or Shelock wrestling Moriarty at Reichenbach Falls, Jesus refuses to throw himself off any precipice to grapple with any demon--the Temptation of Jesus story is not a moral allegory for the upright Christian life. Instead, this story challenges false dualism with a Christian Cosmology that insists on the supremacy of a Good and loving God.

This was, I felt a very strong sermon: conceptually sophisticated and interesting to think through. I enjoyed giving it very much. So much more interesting that the typical "avoid giving into temptation" kinds of sermons that this Sunday's texts usually inspire.

-t

Wednesday, March 19, 2014

Sermon: Last Sunday after Epiphany, 2014



The season of Lent, which prepares us for Easter, is bookended by two mountain top experiences: The scene of the transfiguration of Jesus on the one hand and his crucifixion of the hill of Golgotha on the other. One may represent the Jesus we want, the other the Jesus we get. In this sermon Tay explores those two poles for clues on how we know who this Jesus is through the synthesis of both revelations.

-t

Tuesday, March 18, 2014

Sermon: Epiphany 6, 2014



Nate Meidinger from Café Church, Kingston, describes their community's vision of Christian Community and encourages the Messiah Community as it continues to develop it's vision for doing church in a third-space.

Monday, March 17, 2014

Sermon: Epiphany 5, 2014



One of my favourite sermons so far this year--God wants us to be bold and spicy!

-t

Friday, March 14, 2014

Sermon: Ash Wednesday 2014



This was one of those homilies that came together with little effort. I was in the right spiritual place all day and knew it, so I really just had to preach out of my heart and BAM. It doesn't always happen that easily in the preaching life, but I'm happy when it does!

-t

Sunday, January 19, 2014

Sermon: Epiphany 2 2014



I was pleased with this sermon from Sunday. It went a little long (15 minutes) for this particular setting, but I thought it held together well and had something to say. All the readings appointed for the day were about naming and identity, and I wanted to talk about the act of naming is, itself, a spiritual endeavor worth talking about. This is probably I topic I will need to return to at some point--there is lots more going on here, but it's a nice start.
-t

Thursday, December 5, 2013

Sermon: Advent 1, 2013

In my sermon from Sunday I preached about the Diocesan Synod meeting I had just attended, and its implications for the work we are doing as a church to be "missional" to the people in our neighbourhood. It goes back to Jesus and to hope, and I explore both subjects in this sermon, as well.



-t

Monday, September 2, 2013

Sermon: Pentecost 15 2013


Two of the lessons appointed for the day, Hebrews 13.1-8, 15-16 and Luke 14.1, 7-14, challenge us to be extraordinary (even heroic) in our generosity. "But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, and the blind. And you will be blessed, because they cannot repay you, for you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous’ (Luke 14.13-14, NRSV). It's the sort of instruction that is as difficult to ignore as it is overwhelming in scope. Just how far can we possibly go in opening our lives to others? Won't we expose ourselves to danger? Won't this be emotionally (and perhaps financially) exhausting? In this sermon about Christian hospitality I explore the problems of getting involved in the lives of others and suggest some strategies for moving toward a more Jesus-like way of doing things.

Here is the leaflet created for the liturgy.

Sunday, August 18, 2013

Sermon: Blessed Virgin Mary 2013



There is something about Mary–the mother of Jesus has attracted both adoration and controversy for nearly 2000 years. Her story has attracted intense speculation and theological debate at the intersection of gender, the nature of God, human agency, and the humanity of Jesus. In this homily we explored the image of Mary as a vehicle for encountering her life and responding to it. Texts for the day included Isaiah 61.7-11, Psalm 45.7-18, Galatians 4.4-7, and Luke 1.46-55.

Usually when I post sermons I don't include the forum time when I solicit feedback. But because it is so crucial to this particular sermon, I did. Basically, the whole point of this sermon was get people to construct and then engage an icon of Mary in their minds. Another way I could have done this was simply have them look at an icon such as the one I had an the leaflet for this sunday (below). But something about having them do it through guided meditation seemed like a better idea to me at the time.

Here is the leaflet created for the liturgy.


-t

Sunday, June 23, 2013

Sermon: Pentecost 5, 2013: The Land of The Lost


What do Blue Jay's Short Stop Munenori Kawasaki and Jesus have in common? In this sermon we learn what it means to travel to the land of the lost. The texts included 1 Kings 19.1-15a (Elijah fleeing from Queen Jezebel), Galatians 3.23-29 (in Christ there is no male and female), and Luke 8.26-39 (Jesus healing the Gerasene demoniac). Besides Munenori Kawasaki, I also discussed this article in the New Yorker about Ittetsu Nemoto by Larissa MacFarquhar. The connections between Elijah's wilderness despair, that of the man possessed by "Legion" demons in Luke's Gospel, and the epidemic of suicide in Japan is worth exploring at some depth.

It's worth noting for you preachers out there that my strangely humorous turn to Kawasaki might have been slightly jarring, but I thought it was important to lighten the mood a bit and introduce the theme of joy, which in an inherent feature of Agape Love. Hard to find that joy in any of the scripture lessons appointed for the day, but it does often appear in other healing stories. I think that it's okay to take the congregation into some dark places sometimes, but you have to take them back home again--you can't leave them there. And all this talk of suicide could be a bit harsh. Sermons should generally be emotionally dynamic, and so going from the bitterness of those desert-depression images to the glory of Kawasaki's home run seemed like a good way to accomplish that, homiletically. It's not a perfect sermon, but it's pretty good for me.

Also influencing this sermon was the hymn "Just as the Deer Longs for the Water Brooks" set to Finlandia (which we sang as the Psalm). That's one of my favourite tunes of all time, and the melancholy mode fit the sermon topic perfectly. On a similar vein, Amy Grant's "Everywhere" was playing as I worked on this sermon last night. I find that listening to music while I'm doing sermon prep is really helpful to get into the desired emotional state, which, in turn, helps me to get the congregation to that same feeling place.

Sunday, June 9, 2013

Sermon: Pentecost 3


The stories of Elijah and Jesus resurrecting the dead sons of widows (1 Kings 17.8-16 and Luke 7.11-17) invite a troubling reflection: how do we respond to death, particularly the death of children? What do we say about it, as people of faith? I suggest that encountering the deeply troubling and bitter reality of death is necessary in order to embrace the fullness offered by resurrection and life everlasting.

At the beginning of this sermon I read this poem by Billy Collins:
The Dead

The dead are always looking down on us, they say.
while we are putting on our shoes or making a sandwich,
they are looking down through the glass bottom boats of heaven
as they row themselves slowly through eternity.

They watch the tops of our heads moving below on earth,
and when we lie down in a field or on a couch,
drugged perhaps by the hum of a long afternoon,
they think we are looking back at them,
which makes them lift their oars and fall silent
and wait, like parents, for us to close our eyes.

Here is an animated version of the same poem, read by the author:


Toward the middle of the poem I quote this chunk from the essay "As a Door Nail" in Episcopal Cafe by Donald Schell:
It’s not some irreducible, barely glimpsed idealized essence of my dad that escaped and flew free from the fires of the crematorium. He’s gone, what remains is ash, is dead as a doornail. And the whole of him, the hands I marveled at as a kid when he played Rachmaninoff’s B minor prelude, the face that looked so much like mine and which, in the pictures I’ve got still teaches me to smile, the courageous heart that managed to squeeze almost eighty-seven years of living from a terrifying beginning as a preemie in 1921 and scarlet fever a few years later, the whole of that good man was, is, and will be held in God’s love. I don’t know what it means or looks like but I trust it - God’s initiative, God’s creative embrace that won’t let one vibration of one atom that was him out of the old/new whole of God’s making.

The Gospel writers are so determined that it’s God’s initiative that their preferred language for Jesus’ resurrection is that the Father “raised him up.”

The darkness, the abandonment, the devastation and decay and knowledge that we’re all just in remission and each of us alone faces a ‘moment of terror’ and ‘eternal dark’ must sink in, take hold, and be bitterly true. We’re none of us going to make out of this alive. None of us and nothing in us is any match for death. Nothing except the love of God. (source)

Talking about these passages on Saturday at the healing prayer service it was pretty clear to me that the grief evident in both passages is absolutely essential to understanding what God is up to. Attempts to ameliorate that pain by going immediately to the resurrection place--saying something like "he's in a better place"--shortcuts the process in an unhealthy way. Embracing the pain of death is the path toward Kingdom Wisdom. Jesus did it, and so should we. I know it sucks, but there it is.

This is not a sermon I particularly wanted to preach. I don't like thinking about my own death, much less the death of my little Henry. Nor do I wish to remember the deaths of children I saw when I worked in a hospital as a chaplain... but part of the discipline of preaching is accepting the responsibility of preaching the sermon the Holy Spirit gives you, not the one you want.

If you want preaching that is transformational (for the congregation and also yourself) you have to have the courage to go into some dark places in your own imagination. It's tough work. And I've preached many gut-wrenching sermons in the shower that never made it to the congregation. That's healthy, and part of the preaching life. But sometimes that gut wrenching material needs to find its way to the surface and today was such a day.

I'll just mention that the subjective experience of preaching a sermon this "heavy" was remarkable. People were riveted. They listened intensely, and the quality of the reflections and questions offered after the sermon in the "forum" time were top-notch and often quite personal. But after a while the congregation self-regulated all that hard material with some laughter and amusing stories. I've become experienced enough with my congregation that I am very confident that can process stuff like this and find a resolution and balance at the end.

Preaching about the death of children truly sucks--but you gotta go where the Word takes you. In the end I felt really good about this sermon, and it was a beautiful bookend to have the kids choir perform at the end of the service.

Wednesday, June 5, 2013

Sermon: Pentecost 2 2013



Here is my sermon from last Sunday, Pentecost 2, 2013. Bishop Yu was making his annual visitation, so I was thinking about how the Gospel for the day (Jesus healing the Centurion's Slave, Luke 7.1-10) could teach us about the Bishop-Parish relationship. Also on my mind were the brilliantly theatrical Elijah vs. 450 Prophets of Baal passage (1 Kings 18.20-39) and Paul's defensive-sounding opening in his Letter to the Galatians (Galatians 1.1-12).

By the way, Our awesome "Leader of the Readers" had assigned herself to the Elijah reading and decided to dramatize it. She didn't even feel the need to ask me, which is why she is so awesome.

After my sermon, during the response time, there were some really good reflections from people, but I don't feel it's appropriate for me to share those online at this point. Maybe some day. But this week they noted that basically sometimes we are the outsiders, and sometimes we are the insiders, and understanding which position we occupy in which context is important.

A visiting seminary professor paid me the great compliment of saying that our Liturgy of the Word (the first half of the service leading up to the Offertory) was more "robust" than a typical Anglican Church. He was particularly impressed with the quality of the readings, psalmody, and my responsive sermon. Certainly a richer engagement with the scriptural Word has been a priority of mine for the past two years or so.

So it was a very successful visit with the Bishop, and I think it reflected many of the best qualities of Messiah.

Wednesday, May 29, 2013

Sermon: Trinity Sunday



Hyperbolic expressions of love, esoteric theologies of Trinity, a handful of water taken from the ocean: our very human need to grasp the un-graspable is part of the heart of the mystery of the Trinity. In it we find a lover's poem of what our people have learned about the divine after thousands of years. This sermon begins with part of the Opera "Einstein at the Beach" by Philip Glass. Many thanks to Fiona Ryan for improvising "Philip Glass-esque" music under that part of the sermon, a task I asked her to do mere moments before the liturgy began!

Preaching after doing a retreat is always great because you have a lot of fresh material, frankly. All that contemplation and meditation and prayer does wonders for your preaching-life!

Sunday, May 12, 2013

Sermon: Easter 7 2013 (Mother's Day)



These days my sermons are short and then followed by a period of reflection by the congregation. In this one I explored some of the issues around Mother's Day. I found the double image of freedom and release in the reading from Acts designated for the day (Acts 16.16-34) compelling. Partly inspired by the article "Why I Hated Mother's Day" (via Relevant Magazine) by Maria Gocke, along with this excellent, excellent sermon by Alyce M. McKenzie entitled "'M' is for the Many Things: A Sermon for Mother's Day", I tackled the ambiguous nature of Mother's Day head-on. Yes, mother's are great and deserve honour, but the way this festival is often promoted completely ignores and marginalizes people whose story doesn't look like something Normal Rockwell would have painted. It's tempting on a day like this to just go with the positive stuff, to talk about the "motherhood" of God, perhaps. Or maybe the Blessed Virgin Mary. Or the most important lessons I learned from my mother, etc. But a more honest (and rigorous) approach is to deal with the two sides of the issue and then shoot the gap between them.

Other influences on my preaching this morning included the Working Preacher website. I particularly liked this week's commentary on the Acts passage by Brian Peterson. I would like to tell you that I also read Feasting on the Word, but I didn't get around to it. I suppose I would have picked up FOTW if I hadn't already decided to go in the Mother's-Day-meets-Sunday direction. FOTW might have sharpened some of my tie-ins with the biblical material, but I had so much to work with already I didn't feel the need.

The other thing I would mention about my process this week would be the role of prayer. I was feeling very prayerful this morning as I thought about this sermon and then as I composed it. There was, as usual, the moment when all I had was thought about the passages and not even a glimmer of a sermon, yet. It's always terrifying to look at a blank screen or an empty piece of paper. So then I took a breath and prayed to the Holy Spirit, and she delivered as usual. The Holy Spirit has my homiletical back.

My practice is not to include the feedback time when I record these sermons. I want to respect people's privacy and maintain the very intimate, open, and trusting atmosphere of the forum time. Too bad, because much of the feedback today was excellent and highly engaging. Betsy, for example, pointed out that the founder of Mother's Day, Anna Jarvis, was distressed by how commercialized Mother's Day became even in her lifetime. Others pulled our time in other directions, including a heart felt reflection on the need to cultivate an attitude of gratitude. Great stuff. I loved the comment that one person made about how they studied the passages at home before Sunday! It's very hard to get that kind of engagement without having opportunities for feedback.

Sunday, March 31, 2013

Sermon: Good Friday 2013

Good Friday is an incredibly intense service. The focus is entirely on the cross of Jesus, and it can be hard to sit there very long. But like the faithful few who stayed to the bitter end with Jesus, his modern disciples do well to sit vigil at his death, as well. This is far, far away from the kind of consumer-oriented or market-driven Christianity that might put bums in seats. This is the real stuff--spiritually compelling because it is true, but difficult to stomach if all you want is to feel good.

The liturgy for the day includes a beautiful sung version of the Gospel of John's account of the crucifixion, and a long "Solemn Intercession" portion in which we pray for everything under the sun, including those of other faiths and of no faith at all. We also apologize for every wrong the church has ever done. While is this part, the prayers, were being sung, John (who was the Presider at this service) and I were prostrate on the floor in front of a big, rough wood cross. Being flat on the ground like is pretty powerful, and I highly recommend it as a private devotional practice, as well as a public one on Good Friday and at Ordinations.

With so much powerful worship happening, I decided to keep my sermon as brief as possible (it turned out to be only four minutes). I was feeling the emotions so strongly that I could have easily brought myself to tears, but I managed to hold off and stay focused on the sermon.



An audio-only version can be found here.

-t

Sunday, March 24, 2013

Sermon: Funeral for Eleanor Farmer

As promised: here is the remembrance and sermon given at the Funeral of Eleanor Farmer.


Here is the leaflet created for the liturgy.


Betsy noted that although I didn't say anything "new" in this sermon, I had said "what needed to be said." I think that pretty much encapsulates virtually all preaching. We aren't actually burdened with creating something new so much as with re-telling a story that we carry deep in our bones. Personally, I think any preacher worth his or her salt ought to be able to preach a descent funeral sermon at all times. Not because we do it particularly often, but because an Funeral sermon is really just a version of the Easter sermon, which is itself simply an account of the "hope that is within us." If you don't have a firm grasp of that hope than I suggest you spend some more time praying to the Holy Spirit! (I mean that literally--I think all preachers probably go through periods where they fall out-of-touch with the wellspring. This is a natural part of the spiritual life. My advice is: pray, pray, pray--especially to the Holy Spirit. She hasn't let me down, yet.)

Friday, March 22, 2013

Archbishop Justin's Enthronement Sermon

Regular readers will know I am very fond of Canterbury Cathedral and that I have been there several times for retreats and pilgrimage. One of the neat things about watching the new Archbishop of Canterbury's "Enthronement" was seeing some faces in the background that I know from my time there. The Dean and Chapter of the Cathedral, of course, but also some of the vergers with their cassocks and cool ear-bud-radio setups. The best video I've been able to find that is streamable is this one:



It includes his short sermon, which I thought was quite nice. He talks about how God's Grace liberates our courage to get out of the boat and attempt to walk on the waves. There is a lot of talk like that in Christian circles on both sides of the pond. The rest of the ceremony was a beautiful example of English Cathedral Worship at its best, and it makes me long for it. I could swear I could feel the coolness of those stones (and oh, if they could talk!). So much beauty and gravitas, and yet it was all so human. Sigh.

But I couldn't help but have my impressions of the moment tempered by the gut-wrenching posts of the MadPriest blogger (Reverend Jonathan Hagger):

I was ordained nearly eighteen years ago. In all that time I have broken no canon laws and I have not been subject to any disciplinary proceedings. I have not even broken those laws that morally perhaps I should break. All I want is permission to officiate. I cannot understand how the church authorities can get away with punishing me without there being a crime or any due process. I am in pain. My wife is in pain. My marriage is in pain because of all the pain. To stop this pain I need one man to sign a piece of paper giving me permission to officiate. After that I can begin, with the help of women, to return to my vocation in life. I simply do not understand why this cannot happen in a blink of an eye and the frustrating ridiculousness of it all is driving me mad. This is just theatre. They are going to open the door for him whatever because his face fits. All his life doors have been opened for him. I asked him to open a door for me and he said he "no".(Source)

And there you have it--the double nature of the church as both blessed and broken. And for every inspiring bishop who rises to the "throne" you find scattered about plenty of broken and scarred people who did their best. I'm not saying anything negative about Archbishop Justin or about whether or not Jonathan is right to be so hurt by him. I know very, very little about that particular situation. Understanding the details wouldn't change the fact, however, that Jonathan is in pain. He was called to serve God, got ordained, and now feels abandoned by the institutional church. And when I hear a story like that I take it as a solemn warning that the same thing could very well happen to me in the blink of the eye. Read the Psalms if you don't believe me.

So this business about "stepping out onto the waves" gets real right quick when your job or something else you love is on the line. And I think that we need to stare death in the face if we are going to swing our legs over the gunwale. For every majestic enthronement I think we need to listen to at least one story like Jonathan's to keep us honest about what we are about when we follow Christ. We are about dying in order to live. We are supposed to pick up our cross daily and follow Him, and that entails stumbling, often.

Tuesday, March 19, 2013

Sermon: Lent 5 2013: Ann Stocker

Ann Stocker, who is a therapist and social worker. She works for the Institute of Family Living as well as Youth Unlimited. At Messiah she runs at outreach programme that helps young mothers with life challenges, including the practical aspects of parenting but also spiritual and emotional concerns. This is a joint programme with a nearby Pentecostal Church (Stone Church). I ask Ann to come by a couple of times a year to update the congregation about her ministry and solicit donations to support it (Ann has to raise all the money to run her programme). I often ask her to preach, as well. In my book she is triple qualified to do so: a mature Christian Disciple, a holder of an M.Div., and someone who occupies a pastoring role in her community. I've said before that I think most Anglican Churches are far too restrictive in their notions about who ought to preach. I think that the Rector of a Church ought to be the chief preacher, of course, but there is nothing wrong with asking folks like Ann and even members of the congregation to "give us a word."



I especially appreciated that Ann manage to explicitly touch on all four lessons that were read that day (Hebrew Bible, Psalm, Epistle, and Gospel). I would say that my preaching is always informed by all four texts, but I rarely mention them all in a single sermon. So good on her!