Some of the most disturbing words in the Bible are in this passage from Jesus, saying "I have not come to bring peace, but a sword." Setting family members against each other, and saying those who put family members before God are not worthy of God seem cruel and even more confusing as it appears to be against the commandment to honor one's mother and father.

The answer to this difficult passage, I believe, lay in the paradox which follows it: Those who find their life will lose it and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.

The easiest approach to this passage is the explanation that the Gospel of Matthew was written during the time of persecution. It was politically subversive to be a Christian since Christians would not recognize the authority or especially the divinity of the emperor. Being caught in Christian company or at worship was an offense punishable by at least prison and more likely by death in any one of many gruesome and agonizing ways.

On the religious level, Jewish synagogues also considered Christianity a threat to their law and established way of life. Traditional Jewish teaching did not recognize Jesus as the Messiah, as Christians insisted, and steadfastly upheld the law of Moses which Christians no longer felt bound to obey. The inclusion of Gentiles into the membership of Christianity only aggravated the animosity the Jews felt toward Christians. Punishment from the synagogues regardless of those handed out by the Roman government were severe ostracism and expulsion from the temple membership. Moreover, if someone was discovered to be a Christian, their whole family could be under suspicion and face similar punishments on both religious and governmental levels.

Families were indeed torn apart by matters of faith. Relatives did turn each other in to avoid suspicion. Horrible choices were made and grisly consequences followed. There were Christians who denied their faith in Jesus to avoid punishment and were then excluded from the Christian church on the grounds of betraying Jesus and also for fear that no one knew where this person's loyalty lay. They might just be a spy to turn in the fugitive Christian community.

It's against this backdrop that the Gospel of Matthew was written and those hearing the Gospel read would have listened very somberly and knowingly of the truth in these words. The convictions of one's faith have far reaching impact. As I said earlier, that would be the easy approach. To put it in the context of history and therefore safely out of the way.

But taking that approach wouldn't do us much good. We need to be able to bring these scriptures into our lives and wrestle with them especially when they make us uncomfortable. One question that echoes down through the centuries from this passage is, "What do you believe so fervently that you would risk your family, your life and everything you've ever known, rather than deny it?" Agonizing stories and situations that try to answer this question make up a good deal of literature. One of my favorite stories, A Man for All Seasons, has Sir Thomas Moore prepared to go to his death burning at the stake rather than approve King Henry VIII's divorce. His wife and family beg him to reconsider, the pressures of politics hound him, yet he stays steadfast in his ideals and it causes his death and he dies with the knowledge that his choice will bring immense hardship on his family after he dies. The bitter cost of integrity. It is a sword, and yet it is true to life.

Our truth, what we know of ourselves, what we value, who we are all get wrapped up in our integrity. Whether in dramatic instances or less, we all have faced or will face times when voices will want us to concede a point of our integrity. These scriptures address such times. Jesus said in another part of scripture that he is truth. If that God-part of him is truth, just as the God part in each of us is truth, we cannot deny it and live. If Thomas Moore had recanted his truth, something more important in him would have died, even if his body lived. Earlier in our Gospel Jesus told his disciples not to fear those who can kill the body but not the soul, rather, fear those who can kill both body and soul.

Archbishop Desmond Tutu was often asked during the Apartheid era if he was afraid of being killed. His consistent response was that no one could kill him. They might kill his body, but his soul belonged to God and no one could kill that.

Our truths are a very real part of us and need to be embraced, no matter the cost. Since this is Gay Pride Month I'll tell a personal story of how I relate to this scripture. When I was in my mid twenties I had already come to terms with the fact that I was gay. It was the secret I held close all through my childhood, high school, and college years. I lived in fear that others would find out and that I would become the focus of the kind of torment I'd seen other boys go through. My deepest fear was that my family would disown me and want nothing to do with me. Such things were common stories at the time, they still are tragically for that matter. Even today Christopher Street in Manhattan is one destination of teens thrown out of their homes for revealing their sexuality or as the result of others cruelly outing them. Homeless and afraid, they enter lives that are cruel and from which they can't even begin to lift themselves.

It boggles my mind how families can turn out children they claimed to love just a day before this information came to light. And just as it is true today, it was true thirty years ago when I lived with my secret. I didn't know how my family would react and I didn't dare take the chance.

As I graduated Seminary and entered into a relationship I knew the truth had to come out, and me with it. It was a difficult time with my parents, to give you a taste of New England understatement. But at the end I knew they still loved me and wanted me to be happy. Years of secrecy, fear and shame opened up to healing and truth. I consider this story to be a large part of why I find the healing ministry to be so important. Many of our injuries are not to the body, but the soul and while doctors can tend the sickness of the body, spiritual healing addresses the injuries that lay deep and festering in our souls.

It was in claiming my truth and as the years unfold, living my truth that have given me life. I had reached a point where I was willing to die to my family because the truth in me could not be remain hidden. It was a risk, that turned out happily for me regarding my family.

We all have our truths that we might be living or that might be deep within us yearning to be free. These truths could be our identity in so many ways that can be understood. Our truths may be the intellect or creativity we are afraid to use. Our truths may be our beliefs or doubts. Our truths may be in our business practices. Whatever they are, they are worth risking for.

We might be afraid of negative consequences, perhaps even to death. But unless we grasp our truths, we die anyway in our souls. The whole point of resurrection is trusting that new life will come from whatever death we might imagine or actually face as we grasp our truth. Even if we lose everything and gain the truth that is in us, new life will grow in a far better way. If we lose our lives for Jesus, that is the Jesus who says "I am the truth�" we will indeed gain it.

The scripture that causes us so much trouble as we read it simply brings to light a deep spiritual truth. It does so in the gritty language of a culture two thousand years ago. But it's clear that the truth still applies. Ultimately the sword that Jesus brings cuts through the slavery of fear, or shame, or anger or whatever else might prevent us from living the life God made us to live. Ultimately the words are of liberation and life. Tell your truth to some one, tell it to God, though I suspect, the One who is Truth already knows it. We surely must tell it, live it, embrace it and know that God loves us in the secrets we keep and in the truths that we shout. And that love brings us life. Amen.

June 1, 2008 • "A Mighty Fortress"

The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

Our opening hymn is one of those "old chestnuts" pretty much known to anyone who grew up in a mainline Christian tradition. The author of the lyrics from the year 1529 is Martin Luther, known as the great Protestant Reformer. His passion for God and the beauty of the church led him to speak up against it's abuses and his protests became the match that set ablaze the long simmering anguish of a people in misery.

The emergence of the Reformation is a long, complicated and fascinating chapter in human history and the hymn we sang captures a glimpse of its passion and some of the elements of the conviction of its author. First of all, he wrote it in the language of the people and he used music that was popular and well known. In our day we sanitize the past, but Luther took a favorite tune sung in the bars for his tune while putting in it the lyrics we've come to know. Its orignal rhythm is different than what we're used to, and we tried it this morning going for the spirit of the hymn.

Our own National Anthem uses words by Francis Scott Key and also borrows the music from a German beer song demonstrating how we borrow from different sources to convey what we think people will listen to. Imagine if our hymn writers today took their lyrics and set them to the music being played in bars and clubs to sing in our morning service. Wouldn't that be a change of pace!

Being a man of zealous character, Martin Luther the musician once wrote in a book, that, "Next to the word of God, the noble art of music is the greatest treasure in the world. It controls our thoughts, minds, hearts and spirits... A person... Who does not regard music as a marvelous creation of God does not deserve to be called a human being; he should be permitted to hear nothing but the braying of asses and the grunting of hogs." -- Martin Luther, Reformer and Musician.

It's the passion of this man that is captured in his words, music and actions. It's also his strong conviction of the battle we do with evil. Evil is powerful and requires an equally powerful strength to overcome it. That strength, says Luther, comes from God. No one or no thing can supply us with the strength we need to overcome the evil in the world, only God.

Just as we in the present day like to sanitize and paint pietistic pictures of very earthy and rough characters in the Bible and church history, we have a tendency to minimize or relativize the evil around us. This comes in part from the very real dynamic of people who call out evil often pointing at others who point back at them shouting the same accusations and getting nowhere but deeper into trouble and solving nothing but creating bigger problems.

Never the less, evil exists. It grows in the fertile ground of greed, fear, intolerance and prejudice. Each of us is capable of tremendous evil on a personal level, evil we can do to each other, and evil we can do to ourselves. As a collective society we are capable of evil done to the environment and to whole segments of humanity.

One of the icons of evil is Adolph Hitler. But he was just one person. Without the help of others around him, he couldn't have gotten anywhere. Books are written about the dynamics involved in people's participation in evil through ignorance and denial as well as outright complicity. Genocide in the concentration camps, eastern Europe, Africa, the American Frontier West, all have stories that should be told and secrets that are kept about evil.

Using food and medicine in a global poker game for economic gain is evil. Focusing hate on groups for their color, ethnic background or sexual orientation, or for any reason is evil. That kind of evil is aggravated by the calculated use of it to keep the spotlight off other abuses perpetrated by government or corporations on the societal level and individuals on the personal level.

There is evil in the world. Heinous crimes against individuals and societies. Human rights violations, abuse of the environment - intentional wrongdoing and giving pain for reasons ranging from greed to sadistic pleasure. Evil exists. It's devastating in its physical damage and devastating in its spiritual damage. The existence of evil through intentional wrongdoing is the premise of the Noah story. If nothing else, it tells us that evil has always existed and always been a puzzle for people to face. But intentional evil is not the only form of suffering.

So is catastrophe from natural disasters. So is even the natural loss of life, property, jobs or reputation. From large scale to the small and everyday, pain, hurt and suffering are part of the world and part of our lives. Some is caused by others, some is simply part of the natural world and some we cause ourselves. In his Epistle to the Romans Paul talks about how we all fall short of the glory of God. In the end, he reassures his readers, we are loved by God and embraced by grace.

The question raised for me in these readings becomes what do we do about it? How do we maintain our balance, our spirit in the face of any mishap that befalls us? The people suffering in China, the atrocities of the wars we're fighting and the deaths and injuries related to it, all the way to the arguments we may have with our spouses, partners, friends or children. How do we deal with these things?

Jesus said, "Not everyone who says 'Lord, Lord' will enter the kingdom of heaven, but only the one who does the will of my Father..." In a more expanded study I'd try to demonstrate the point that I'll make briefly here, namely that rather than keeping people out of heaven, Jesus is stating a spiritual truth that it takes work, spiritual work, to confront the pains and sorrows of life. The Kingdom of Heaven can be defined in many ways, but one way is surely the sense of peace and serenity we can find in our lives. And it takes more than complaining to God to achieve that.

When I'm on the tread mill after lunch I'll cry out Lord, Lord I feel sick. And the voice of God says, not everyone who calls out Lord, Lord, will get into good shape. Wearing the latest work out gear and sitting on state of the art machines isn't enough to lose the weight or build up the muscles. It takes work. Having a nice briefcase and suit isn't enough to make it in the business world. It takes work. Not everyone who says, 'Lord, Lord' will succeed. But the ones who do the work that needs to be done, will achieve the goal.

So it is in spiritual matters. When Jesus talks about building a house on a foundation of rock versus a foundation of sand, it certainly seems to refer to the kind of discipline we engage in our spiritual practice. Prayer and meditation, the study of scripture, the wrestling with issues of faith and the participation in a worshiping community is an intentional discipline, sometimes fun and easy, sometimes not so. But necessary in any case to build a spiritual life.

In the news recently Ted Kennedy was diagnosed with a brain tumor. The Kennedys have been larger than life American icons for well over a generation. Despite one's political leanings we watch this family in fascination. Tragedy and folly, hubris, accident and illness have visited them often. Some of the suffering has been from outside their control, much of it has been from within, and again as St. Paul says, all have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. And yet, one of the most fascinating aspects of this family is the strength of the faith they share that allow them to overcome tragedy and personal failings.

One of the most moving accounts of that family's journey for me was reading that when she heard about John Kennedy's assassination, Rose Kennedy went to church to pray.

When devastation hits we can be paralyzed, embittered, or die inwardly. Or we can grieve and overcome. Whichever we do is a matter of our strength and choice. And not ours alone but that of God working in us. Working in us, not for us. One of the hardest lessons humans can learn is that we have to do our own spiritual work, no one can do it for us. Plenty can help, but we still have to do the work ourselves. This work is what Jesus refers to as building the house on a foundation of rock.

What is the work? Prayer and worship. Meditation. Scripture reading. Self examination and confession. Self care and laughter. Living with intention, generosity and gratitude. It's not really difficult, but it does take attention and intention. There are very few things in life we can predict, but good times and bad times will come. Good times we know how to handle, bad times... not always so well. Scripture gives us a handle on how to start. Our life here builds on that. Our worship, prayer, singing, outreach and fellowship helps us. Our study and prayer groups help. There are many ways in side and outside this church that will help, but it's work that we each have to take on for ourselves even in the company and with the support of each other. The good news is that God is with us during our spiritual work, our joys and our sorrows. God is the source of strength we draw on to confront the evil and mishaps in our lives. And God is the glint in the eye when our joys are full.

Martin Luther wrote and sang his songs with passion and faithful fervor. We can sing them to articulate ours, or we can write our own. There's many a beer tune waiting for new words. Amen.

Amen.

May 18, 2008 • Trinity Sunday

The Rev. Deacon Christine McCloud

Genesis 1:1-2:3
2 Corinthians 12:(5-10)11-14
Matthew 28:16-60

In the name of the God who created us, the Son who redeems us and the Spirit who sustains us. Amen.

Today is Trinity Sunday. It is one of those celebrations that is a real oddity for the church. It is the only day set aside on the Church calendar that asks us to ponder and consider, maybe even find some clarity, on one of Christianity's most fundamental and undoubtedly, probably one of the least clear doctrines - the glorious, yet mysterious doctrine of the Holy Trinity. It is also probably the one Sunday of the year that many clergy seem to suddenly find their long lost relatives to bond with or they search doggedly for a guest preacher for the day. And let us pause in quiet for a brief moment and remember the hundreds of poor seminarians, who after weeks of grinding out research papers and honing up for final exams, find themselves standing in the pulpit on this Sunday to preach because its good practice for them. Me... well, always trying to be the good Deacon, just kind of put myself out there, said what the heck, and here I am.

You will be very happy to know that I'm not even going to attempt to stand here and try to explain the church's funny math to you. I can barely master basic math let alone try to think that I could actually explain, with any clarity, on how it is that Three - Father, Son, and Holy Spirit - equal One. See, to me, that's funny math and I'm staying far away from that. I also realize that the "traditional" definition of the Trinity is not going to help very much either. I remember the last time someone asked me to explain to them the concept of the Trinity. I am sad to report that my explanation left that person� and me� with more questions than we started off with.

So, I thought, let me turn to the real professionals, the theologians who have spent countless years dissecting and studying the Trinity. The Trinity is explained this way in the Oxford Dictionary of the Christian Church: "the one God exists in three persons and one substance, Father, Son and Holy Spirit. God is one yet self-differentiated; the God who reveals Himself to mankind is one God equally in three distinct modes of existence, yet remains one through all eternity." There! I'm sure we all NOW understand this doctrine better. Right? I don't know about you, but I sure don't. I'll be honest with you, my eyes glazed over at the first reading of the definition and I certainly haven't gained any further insight since.

It's dawned on me that maybe� just maybe, the more I try to explain and define what the Trinity is the more I limit myself in understanding the fullness of the whole mystery of not only the doctrine of Trinity, but of God Him or Herself. When I slow myself down a bit and let the idea swirl around my mind a bit more, I realize that I can find a richness in the ambiguity of the language I struggle to seek in order to define this concept. The fact is, and I believe blessedly so, that I can not put my boundaries or limits on defining who God is - He is totally without bounds and is limitless in His fullness - both in my life and yours if we allow Him to be so.

So with all of that, it seems wise to focus on our readings this morning. In the Genesis reading, we have the creation story. God empties Himself into the creation in an act of self-giving love. Out of nothingness - comes the fullness of life. This early community of faith knew God as their creator and in whose image they were created. Not only did they know God as their creator, but they knew - sensed and felt it deeply - God's love for them as children know the love of a parent. God was in an intimate relationship with them. He was the loving God who revealed himself to the prophets and as the protector, led them out of bondage and slavery. This is not a God who was far off - He was a God in relationship with them - even when things don't go so well and they strayed - He continued to love them and showed his graciousness to them in spite of themselves.

God continued to pour Himself out to them and us through the life, death and resurrection of Jesus. God becomes flesh and dwells among us. It is Jesus who reveals God to us: the God who created us and is creator of all things; the God who watches over us and calls us into constant relationship with Him; the God who is just and loving, who heals and restores, who forgives and sets free. The disciples experienced directly how God acted in profound ways with His people. They didn't necessarily get it right away - as a matter of fact, they didn't get it until Jesus' ascension. But, in the end, they came to realize the overwhelming love and care that God, through Jesus His son, poured out upon them. In Paul's letter to the Corinthians, he reminds them that when they agree with one another and live in peace with one another, the "God of love and peace will be with them [you]."

And in the Gospel of Matthew, Jesus releases the power of the Holy Spirit upon them on the day of Pentecost as he promised them. The gift of The Holy Spirit brings them full circle with Jesus - they are filled with life-giving and transformative joy - which empowers them to go out into the world to "make disciples of all nations" and to bring those new disciples into the fullness of God's love and Jesus redemptive grace for all to live in.

Let's just spend a few moments with the Great Commission given in Matthew's Gospel. "All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age." This commissioning from God, through Christ, is simple and straightforward. Go and make disciples of all. Teach them to obey what I have commanded you � to love the Lord our God and to love one another as God has loved us. Baptize them. And pray down the Holy Spirit upon them so that they too may come to know the fullness of God's love for them.

What is important to remember about the Great Commission is that we are sent out into the world to be the proclaimers and doers of the Word. It is Jesus, through God who has ALL of the authority � not us. We are to be the vessels of grace and peace and hope and to welcome everyone to discover, freely and joyfully, for themselves, the goodness of God's mercy and love. We are not called to impose our standards or cultural norms upon them; instead, we are called to be faithful witnesses of the redemptive power of Christ and God's never-ending love for all.

The Trinity is the name that we give to the God of our Christian story of salvation. It is the adventure story of God, who creates all from nothing. It is about God becoming flesh and living among us � for all time through - the power of the Spirit. It is God's story of unbridled love for us because it is His love that overcomes and beats down the power of death. It is the story of God's spirit that transforms and sustains us � who calls us from singleness into community with one another and with the One who loved us first and always.

Why do we take the time to celebrate Trinity Sunday? It is a time for us to pause and wrestle with who God is and how God reveals Himself to us - to wrestle with who we are and how we are to live in our community of faith and how we are connected to one another. We take the time so that we can understand how God acts and lives in our lives so that we can go out and share with assurance the Good News of Christ in the world.

People who are non-believers don't simply come to believe in Jesus because we can articulate some well-formed doctrine or theology. They are drawn to Christ because they see how Jesus is revealed in and through our lives. They are converted and transformed by the power of the Holy Spirit because they witness the grace and love of Christ at work in and through their own lives. They are converted and transformed, because like us, they are caught up in the hands of the God who made us, redeemed us and will never let us go � in other words: caught up in the mysterious life and power of the Trinity.

This Sunday isn't about trying to explain unexplainable doctrine or to work our way through "funny math". It's a day for us to stretch our minds and consider who God is and how God engages us in ways that we might ordinarily take for granted and to examine what our relationship is to God today. It certainly isn't about knowing the right or wrong answers; it's about the willingness to embrace the mystery of the three different faces of God who is One. It's about taking the risk to truly experience for ourselves the completeness of God - through Jesus � and allowing the Spirit to dwell not only within us, but to blow us out, into the world proclaiming with confidence the love of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit.

In Christ, with Christ, through Christ and by the power of the Holy Spirit we are made one with God the Father. Let us go forth into the world proclaiming with boldness and assurance, the Good News of Christ, this day and always!

Amen.

May 11, 2008 • Pentecost

The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

"Come down o Love divine, and seek thou this soul of mine and visit it with thine own ardor glowing; O Comforter draw near, within my heart appear, and kindle it, thy holy flame bestowing." In the name of the Father and the Son and the Holy Spirit, Amen.

The Spirit of God is celebrated this day in this great feast of Pentecost. From the red streamers that marked the procession to the different clothes of red worn specifically for this day by people in the pews we echo and recall the first reading, that marvelous account in the Book of Acts about the manifestation of the Holy Spirit on the disciples in what appeared to be tongues of fire.

Not only did the surprised congregation see this wonder, they heard preaching, the good news of God's saving love, in their own languages. What for them was an amazing spectacle, a miracle, has become for us an icon of God's power and story of such richness that we can hear in our own ways, in our own languages if you will, what God calls out to us.

This particular story stands in perfect contrast to another story in the Bible, that of the Tower of Babel. The word is pronounced Bay-bell not Babble, as is often understandably used because of all the babbling that ensued, but I assure you the word is Bay-bell. Genesis chapter 11 describes a point in the early time of creation when everyone spoke one language. A group decided to build a tower as a memorial to themselves for future generations. So successful was this tower that God realized ther was nothing people would stop at and that nothing would be impossible for them. Rather than seeing this as a good thing, God put a stop to it by confusing their languages and scattering them abroad over the face of the earth. The implication of the story is that we can get lost in our own success and abilities to the point where we forget that God is still God, and that we are not. The Tower of Babel stands as a memorial, not to human ingenuity but humanity's reckless ambition.

The story of Pentecost takes this and turns it around bringing all the languages together in one voice praising God and living not in competition with God, but in harmony and purpose. The unity of this voice was not to celebrate the greatness of humanity, but the greatness of God's love in saving humanity from ourselves.

Some of you know that last week I took some time and went for a vacation to Germany. It was a wonderful trip where I visited friends who live in Munich, and enjoyed seeing the sights of that great city as well as renting a car and driving around the region from Munich to Salzburg, Austria, to the high Bavarian Alps seeking the Castle of Neuschwanstein, built by King Ludwig II and used by Walt Disney as the model for his signature Magic Kingdom. Talk about a Tower of Babel! The castle was the pet project of King Ludwig as a monument ot his own ingenuity, but the building of it bankrupted him and caused the leadership around him to have him declared insane and removed from power. Two days later his body and that of his doctor were mysteriously found drowned in the lake near the castle. The castle itself was lived in for three months and remains two thirds unfinished in the interior. That which is finished is breath taking in beauty and opulence and set in an alpine beauty of unsurpassed and indeed magical grandeur. But like it's Biblical predecessor becomes a monument to vanity and dangerous foolishness.

Pentecost brings God into the world of our understanding through a fire and passion of love that we cannot keep within ourselves but have to proclaim or it will burn inside us. We have to let it out and in doing so let it flow through with healing power and loving gratitude.

This feast day is a cap to the array of Easter stories. The connecting symbol liturgically is the Paschal Candle located in the center of the church. This candle, first lit at the Easter vigil represents the resurrected Christ and burns each Sunday within the body of the church as a symbol of Christ's presence and resurrection.

The movement of stories goes from the Entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday through the seeming defeat and brutality of Good Friday, the death and Resurrection of Jesus, the post resurrection ministry for forty days, the Ascension and promise of the Holy Spirit and the fulfillment of that promise that first Pentecost after the Ascension. As stories they are surpassing rich in symbol and spiritual truths. One of the most fantastic things about Biblical stories is that they describe in story themes that occur over and over again in our lives. Themes of great and often misunderstood potential, crushing defeat, rising again from pain, a new understanding and rebirth of hope to the fire of new commitment and outward journey.

We hear these themes over and over again because we need to as our lives take these paths over and over again in different and ever changing ways. Our lives are full of challenges and struggles that can beat us down or build us up and make us stronger. We are powerful and strong people, but it is not our greatness that is energizing us, but the greatness of God moving though us to achieve and be agents of grace and love in a world so needy to drink it in.

A couple weeks ago we hosted a priest from Connecticut who shared some of the lessons learned by the church he serves that brought rebirth to their congregation. They were not new lessons as much as reminders of our mission to bring what we have in here, out there. The mantra of his church is that they are there for the people not yet there. It's a good reminder for us too. We are here not for ourselves alone, but for those not yet here who are looking for us and don't know where to find us. We have the Spirit of God burning in us in a way unique to us. We experience God as inclusive and loving and open without barrier or conditions. There are too many people in this world who have been excluded or hated or denied and barred from communities that present themselves as people of God and yet do horrendous things using God's name. The abuses of one community can turn the seeker away but cannot squash the desire to find God. In the pain and confusion that remains there need to be voices of intelligence and reason, voices of compassion and love, voices of acceptance and toleration, voices of openness and inclusion, voices in different tongues, but speaking the universal language of God's love and grace.

One of the reasons we repeat the biblical stories over and over again is to remind ourselves continually of the healing power it has for us and to take seriously our need to be channels of that love for others. Part of the problem in the religious communities is that we can get stuck in one of the stages of that wonderful Easter saga. Whether it's remaining stuck in a state of perpetual potential, or in a defeated attitude, or in an exalted state of resurrection alone, the community becomes stagnant and in danger of dying spiritually. Each of those segments leads to the need to bring the message outside and have it flow through us to others. We cannot keep God's love bottled up inside us or the hope or promise we've received. We have to let it out and bring it to those desperately looking for it.

What a joy it is to celebrate this wonderful feast on Mother's Day. Our mothers provide another view of giving birth to new life, facing the challenges and frustrations inherent in raising struggling and often willful seekers. And yet find in the joy in the midst. Life is a series of holding and letting go to each new phase of life. Cycles of grace and discovery, promise and fulfillment. Yet even in the midst of occasional disappointment or perhaps even failure, remembering that it is God who is the ultimate source of life and love. We are all channels of it in our own way and with our own voices. And in that way we speak one language declaring the goodness of God. Amen.

April 13, 2008 • The Good Shepherd

The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

Jesus said, "I am the gate for the sheep.... whoever enters by me will be saved, and will come in and go out and find pasture."

The fourth Sunday of Easter is reserved for lessons about the Good Shepherd. It's a long tradition and highlights the beloved image of Jesus holding the lamb over his shoulders and brings to mind the wonderful parable of the shepherd who leaves the 99 sheep in search of the lost one. This wonderful parable is comforting in illustrating our loving God who goes to any length to find us in all sorts and conditions of being lost, and in finding us, leads us home.

Each of the Gospels has a variation of this theme and on the fourth Sunday of Easter we hear them anew. The Gospels of Mark and Luke have Jesus referring to himself as the Good Shepherd who comes to the sheep pen and calls for them. Not knowing much about sheep myself, I still find it comforting to know that animals usually considered among the duller witted of the four legged species are still able to recognize voices. When they hear the familiar voice of their beloved shepherd, they respond positively. The stories go on to say that if they don't recognize the voice of the person entering the sheepfold, they sense danger and panic. Again, in associating Jesus with the Good shepherd, the reader is reassured that God is protecting us and watching over us as the Good Shepherd watches over and takes care of the sheep. It's to our advantage not to follow the metaphor associating us with the sheep too much further.

However, this particular Gospel lesson from John takes the familiar theme and turns it around. Instead of being directly called the Good Shepherd, Jesus refers to himself as the gate to the sheepfold. It's an interesting turn of the story and the ears of the early church listener would have picked up on it quickly.

To play with this metaphor a bit, anyone coming to get the sheep would have to go through the gate. If they did not it would signal that they had no right to enter and would therefore be bandits or thieves. If Jesus was placing himself in the role of "the gate" then who is the Shepherd who enters? One possibility could be that God the Creator was the Shepherd entering and I suppose one could make a sound argument for that position. However, one would then get into the tricky mechanics of Trinitarian difficulty which would make Jesus both Shepherd and gate at the same time. It's a very distracting solution to an otherwise simple parable.

I think the better solution is that the role of the shepherd is given to the church leadership of the time. John's Gospel was written quite a bit later than the other Gospels and this difference in the flow of the story would have been an important development. It recognizes that time has passed and other leaders arise as the church grew past the Apostolic age. But it also gives warning and guidance to those who would follow the leadership.

Jesus becomes the standard by which leaders are known. In the early church, as in our own day, there were many competing faiths and concerns. The religious seeker and early church member might be confused whom to follow, which voice to listen to. The writer of John's Gospel offers this suggestion, "I am the gate for the sheep, says Jesus." It's another way of saying, Anyone who comes through me is worthy to listen to. It sounds easy, it seems clear, but it's not really. If we are in fact sheep, I think we still need to be careful about shepherds we listen to.

Going from metaphor to everyday life, we need to consider the voice of the shepherd and the role of the gate as we make our decisions and choices.

Sometimes as I walk down the street, I'm given leaflets of religious information. I'm quite eager to take them, much to the delight of the person handing them out. I like to read them and see what other churches are up to. At the outset, I'm impressed by the enthusiasm of the ones handing out the leaflets. They seem so sincere and eager to have me hold the same beliefs they appear to. Truth be told, I'm equally as eager to have them share the beliefs I do, but I'm not so enthusiastic in this desire as to write and hand out leaflets of my own.

But what I read usually saddens me. They present a very different image of God and Jesus than I hold, and the gap between our beliefs often saddens me. I suspect that if I did write and hand out a leaflet to them, we would look at each other convinced we spoke on behalf of the Good Shepherd and look at the other as being the thief or bandit about to lead the poor hapless sheep astray.

It's here that I find comfort again in the parable that places Jesus as the gate. Since it is through him that the sheep will ultimately go. In other places in the Bible, Jesus refers to himself as the Way, the life and the truth. His works are healing and loving. He embraces the outcast, loves his enemies, offers forgiveness to those who threaten or in fact hurt him. He is kind and gentle. He is simple in his living and is very smart in his dealing with people and is not tricked by insincerity. These are wonderful characteristics of a gate. Any shepherd trying to win over the sheep of any stripe need to pass through these very impressive characteristics. Any sheep or person in sheep's clothing can gauge the voice of their shepherd by this gate and follow whom they will.

Many voices compete for our attention and allegiance. In a world of different faiths and creeds calling us to follow in politics, social issues, and economic patterns as well as worship it's difficult to judge. There are many would be shepherds and it's helpful to think of Jesus as the gate. Whoever calls us through love, healing, forgiveness and into full stature in God's eyes seems to me to be the voice of a good shepherd. Those who call in terms of hate, violence, inequality and ignorance seem to me to be the bandits and thieves we should avoid and run from, because they are very dangerous.

Jesus concludes this parable by saying that he came so we might have life and have it abundantly. This is also reassuring. Abundant life is full of the love of God in which there is plenty to go around. Those who would parcel it out, or worse, withhold it, based on their own criteria are misleading the people of God. While there are many would be shepherds, there really is only one Good Shepherd, and that is God. It is God who calls us and through whose love we led. Amen.

March 16, 2008 • Palm Sunday

The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

The Palm Sunday story sets up a contrast between the love people expressed which cloaked their secret hopes and the tragic betrayal that came when those hopes were not made real.

The people greeted Jesus in the streets of Jerusalem hailing him as the new king with shouts of "Hosanna." What they hoped for bore little to no resemblance to what they actually got, and within a week, the love and adoration would unravel to chaos and death.

Literature and entertainment media give us various images of kings and queens that depict as close as we can come to reality all the way to satire, and then to simple fantasy. When the movie staring Helen Mirren came out with her portrayal of Queen Elizabeth II we saw a dignified and almost tragic figure trapped in the tight confinement of her role. From controlled expressions to actions dictated by tradition, place and decorum, we saw a woman of deep conviction and love for her country trying to deal with the mystifying world outside her palace walls clamoring for her to be something she didn't know how to be.

In another entertainment venue we see a depiction of Henry VIII in a show called "The Tudors." Here we have political complexities mingled deliciously with soap opera energy and beauty.

Further down the ladder we have Mel Brooks in his comedy "History of the World - Part II" making outrageous and silly decisions, capriciously saying, "It's good to be King."

The list of images goes on and on, but I wonder what was the image the people of Jerusalem had in mind when Jesus approached? No doubt a warrior to lead an uprising against Rome seeking independence. But how could they have expected someone who preached healing and peace to be their instrument of war? People of all times have a tendency to hear what they want to hear, and somehow put their words in the mouths of those they choose as leaders. Quite often the same energy that places people on pedestals will be used to tear them down.

The events of that Holy Week will be recounted through liturgies and sermons this week. But today I'd like to spend some time on the side of the road with the people meeting Jesus at the gate of Jerusalem. They laid down garments and once those ran out, found palms. I mused about this for some time in a stream of consciousness and wondered if what they did made much sense. Why throw your clothes on the road? It's a waste of good clothes that'll only get dirty and might get ruined. They should have started with the palms which are much better suited to the purpose, clean up easier and are bio-degradable. If they were trying to impress Jesus what else might they have given? As I mused about what I would like to give I came up with a very different list.

First I'd give my ears to listen to what Jesus was actually saying and try to refrain from putting into his mouth the words I'd like to hear from him.

Then I'd give him my eyes. I'm a visual kind of person. I like to see someone when they talk so I can read their body language. I'd try to see his face and expressions and how they matched the words I heard. Some of what he said is strange to my ears, so my eyes would have to check it out too. Was there a wink in his eye or a smile no one else caught, you know the kind that says he's pulling your leg and not even he can keep a straight face. But I have to see the face that says the words so I can tell for myself. How about you? I'd give him my eyes.

Then perhaps my head. I might give that if my ears and eyes told me it's ok. To think about what I heard and saw. To weigh these things, and see how they made sense to me. I'd think about what he said and if I could live with it or do without it. Or if I need to do with it and can't live without it. My head might tell me. But my head doesn't always get it right.

I'd need to give my heart. My heart is always right, but it's the thing that I try to hold onto. That's the puzzle though. Unless you give it, you don't know who's going to take care of it. We have to trust. I like my heart and I don't like when it hurts, but I trust Jesus. I think I'd put my heart out there.

They called him a king. That's not what he called himself. They didn't use their ears. They wanted him to be something he's wasn't. When we don't see who someone is, we miss out on who they are. They did that to Jesus, and I wonder how often I do that, or how often others who proclaim him as king still do it.

After these rambling and strange musings, I continued and began to wonder why he rode the donkey into town in the first place. He knew what they were up to. But he went anyway. He wasn't going to let false expectations stop him from going where he needed to go. Jerusalem, death and resurrection. Long trip down a short road. He walked through their hopes and fears. He led the way but they missed the point. Funny how people can see different things in the same place. But they got him. Or thought they did. I guess he got them in the end. That's what he wanted in the first place. To get them. He did it through their false ears, their blind eyes, their muddled heads and their stone hearts.

That's not what a king would do, but it's what God would do and does. Reaches into us where we are, through what is false and what is good and lets us know that he is life and love and peace in his own way. Part of Holy Week is to meditate, muse if you will, on the gifts God gives us through promise and action. It's also a time to muse about who it is that we follow and the gifts we offer in order to do so.

We finished a series of study and worship with St. Andrew's and Holy Communion this past week, and this week we'll combine in some of the services. In a segment I taught on the early church and the issues leading up the creation of the Nicene Creed, I talked about "competing Christianities." The teachings had gotten very far apart to where Christians in one place couldn't even recognize the Jesus described by other Christians. Since part of the purpose of this series was to see how ancient issues get played out in today's world, it's not hard to see that Christians today preach very different "Jesuses." All the more reason Palm Sunday is so important to recognize who it is that we welcome into our hearts. Take time to listen, to see, to think and to love. Oh, and don't throw your clothes in the street. It's really a waste, it's a short sighted decision on the spur of the moment. Rather, give yourself. Amen.

March 9, 2008 • The Valley of Dry Bones

The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

In the book of Ezekiel we read, "The hand of the Lord came upon me, and he brought me out by the spirit of the Lord and set me down in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones..."

Every clergy person who has ever had to preach a sermon has at one time or another said the phrase "That'll preach!" It's an exclamation like "eureka!" to signify that the fortunate clergy person has come across an illustration, story, anecdote, life situation or joke that will fit perfectly into a sermon to convey a point or lesson. There are times when this illustration may in fact not even have a particular sermon to be attached to, but the industrious preacher will make a note or a file to contain them to be drawn out for some future sermon. (Don't ask me if I have such a file, because I won't tell.)

I wondered if Ezekiel had that moment of "eureka" when he was walking through the valley and saw these dry bones. It's easy to speculate that Ezekiel simply happened upon the site of an ancient battle where the fallen soldiers remained uncared for until their bones lay bleached in the sun. There they lay until that day when Ezekiel walked through the valley. I imagine he paused looking at them. Perhaps he felt sorrow at the waste of life for some battle fought long ago and forgotten as well. What could have been so important that these soldiers fought and died? I wonder if even in his sadness he said to himself "That'll preach." These bones were to him like the people of Israel who suffered through their existence without the spark of life in them that gave them joy or meaning. The people that had suffered under foreign rule and wanted better lives for themselves and their families.

The ears of his faith heard God tell him to prophesy to the bones, and as he spoke to them they rattled and came together but still remained lifeless. He spoke to them some more and the flesh came on, but they were still without movement. And finally he spoke to the winds, the breath of the earth, and the bodies were filled with life giving breath, the breath of God and they stood.

With the ears and eyes of faith Ezekiel heard and saw this wonder and knew that God would give the people back their lives - their hope, their meaning and their homeland. It's an illustration that preaches.

In John's Gospel, the story of Jesus raising Lazarus from the dead echos the miracle of God's life giving spirit when hope is gone. Martha was the plain speaking sister of Mary and Lazarus - all friends of Jesus. Martha, you may recall is the one who had some sharp words to say when she was stuck making dinner and cleaning up while Mary sat and listened to Jesus some time before this event. Her complaint went unheeded then and her implied criticism of Jesus also went unheeded when she told him that if he had only been there Lazarus would not have died. When it became clear that Jesus intended to raise Lazarus from the dead, Martha was the first to say "No" because after four days the body would be already be engulfed in a stench. Still, beyond the hope of any present, Jesus brought life to his friend Lazarus and in doing so restored the life of his other friends Martha and Mary.

God has the power to restore life. It's that simple. Whether it's people who have been termed clinically dead or the spiritually and emotionally dead who are healed through prayer or divine breath flowing through their hopeless souls, God restores life.

People have a tenacious ability to live. There are amazing stories of people lost in wilderness environments who survive impossible odds, or live through operations or life threatening illnesses on what appears to be sheer force of will. The will to live. And conversely there are people who have given up and seem determined to die no matter what. One of the sparks of life that keeps even the most hopeless going is joy. Without it we are lifeless. Joy in family and friends, joy in ones life and meaning. More than money, power or prestige, joy in relationships and personal meaning. That is life giving and life saving. Love is the breath of God that brings life. Love is not easy, it often takes work, but it is a holy work and produces far more than we can imagine.

In our opening collect this morning we prayed for God's help to keep our eyes fixed where true joys are to be found. And I ask you to consider, where is your joy to be found? Where are you happiest, what are you doing or who are you with that brings you joy beyond all else? Take a moment and consider. When is the last time you took a deep breath knowing that what filled your lungs and heart was the deepest joy you have ever known? Is it a person, an activity or a place that you can identify readily? Is it a recent memory or one so old that its bones are gleaming in the long forgotten battles of your life?

It is vitally important to find our joy and live into it. That is where our lives radiate the most and where we find God most clearly. Unfortunately, we sacrifice our joy for so many things. However, it's worth trying to sacrifice many things for our joy. Not the capricious shallow enjoyments, but the deep soul joy. God opens channels of opportunity as we seek our deeper selves and that deeper joy. We've often heard it said that God helps those who help themselves. I believes that's true. For as powerful as God is, God is no match for our ability to shut off our access to God's grace. Like Martha we have often so much given up on what seems impossible that we close our eyes to what God is able to do.

The NY Times Magazine this weekend has done a series of articles trying to understand what makes people give. And by this, they mean give charitably. They speculate is there really such a thing as "altruism?" Isn't it a fancy word for a form of selfishness that gives one a "warm feeling" or even a competition with one's friends to see who's the noblest of us all?

Spiritual teaching is that giving is a form of gratitude for what we already have. It's a way of participating in the cycle of love that gives life to the world and indeed, life to ourselves. Cynics will dismiss charitable giving if one gets a warm feeling because they get something out of it, so it's not really freely given. Since when did "joy" become suspect motivation? What's wrong with joy? Are our values so backward as to suggest that if we feel any kind of joy or satisfaction in our work, businesses or giving that we are somehow cheating? There seems to be an acceptable level of martyrdom that places one's long suffering as the true nobility of life. In John's Gospel, Jesus once told his disciples that he came that we might have joy, and that our joy may be full. If giving is tied up with joy, then the fullness really seems to be a good thing. During our stewardship campaign one of our members often quotes the saying, "don't give til it hurts, give til it feels good." There is a joy in giving that should be cherished and explored. There is life in that joy and death in the cynicism that would find joy suspect.

Whether in giving or living, the presence of joy and love is the essence of life and that is the very breath of God giving life to our bones or flesh covered, otherwise lifeless forms. Joy and love are to be found, nurtured and shared. Now that'll preach! Amen.

February 24, 2008 • Jesus and the Samaritan Woman

The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

The Gospel presents the beloved story of Jesus meeting the woman by the well. It's a long story, to be sure, and it's remarkable for its length and its imagery. Most of the Gospel stories are simply not this long, and because of its length, it implies an importance worthy of particular study.

First of all the story takes place in Samaria. By Jesus' day the state of Samaria used to be part of Israel but over the centuries it had been divided from the main country and its Jewish inhabitants had inter married with the non-Jewish neighbors and adopted foreign customs to the extent that the Jews in Israel did not recognize them as "real Jews." Samaritans were not only looked down upon, but the object of ridicule at most and shunned as outcasts at the very least. In the Gospels Jesus encounters several Samaritans and in one famous example uses a Samaritan as the hero in one of his better known stories, the one we now call The Good Samaritan.

The fact that Jesus was in Samaria at all, catches the reader's attention. Why was he there? Why was he in the land of the outcasts? Well, the answer is not far behind. There are no outcasts in Jesus' love and his mission included all the outcasts, even Samaritans.

The next surprise in this story is that when a woman approaches the well, he speaks to her and engages her in conversation. She is shocked, since she is both Samaritan and a woman, two reasons why a male Israelite should avoid her. But again there are no outcasts in Jesus' love. Everyone is precious, everyone valued, everyone spoken to.

The word play that follows between her and later the disciples underlines the confusion between immediate, limited goals and much farther reaching spiritual ones. Jesus offers the woman living water, she hears the term as it usually refers to moving water which is most desirable since its movement usually means it's clean and good for drinking and cooking. Jesus means the water for the soul, to refresh her spirit with an understanding of love and healing. He brings up her relationship with men, which is somewhat vague, but clearly does not put her in a good light! He does not offer her condemnation, but comfort. He welcomes her into fellowship and continues to hold out the offer of living water for her soul. He identifies himself to her as the Messiah, a rare disclosure in the Gospels and she races to her village to tell the others. They come eventually and see for themselves and believe.

The form of misunderstanding repeats when Jesus' own disciples find him and are shocked to see him speaking with the woman and eventually try to get him to eat. He says he has food they know nothing of. They again think he means food literally, but again he refers to the spiritual food of a nourishment which reaches far beyond the needs of the stomach.

Jesus continues the metaphor of food and expands it to the harvest. He explains that the harvest is ripe. The people are hungering for food that satisfies the spirit. Food of love, food of forgiveness, food of hope, food of healing. Though sometimes challenging, people can always find the food that will satisfy the body, but it is only through God that we will find the food that satisfies the deeper hunger of the spirit. It is this food and drink that Jesus offers and no one is prevented from coming to this well, or this feast. No one.

When God's people hunger and thirst in spirit, God will provide abundantly. When God's people hunger and thirst in body, it is our will though God's generous grace that can and must feed them.

The General Convention of the Episcopal Church adopted and committed itself and by extension all its member churches to work toward the UN's Millennium Development Goals. These 8 goals address worldwide issues of poverty education, violence (particularly against women and children), health (particularly AIDS and tuberculosis) and economic opportunities especially among the poorest in our world. Progress is being made and there are many wonderful stories around the world that illustrate this. The Episcopal Church expends millions of dollars around the world through relief and development aid as partners in the Millennium Development Goals. The money they give is money that comes through the member Dioceses and individual churches. At St. George's, we have contributed thousands of dollars through the years to Episcopal Relief and Development taking action in ways that we can. Occasionally we send out appeals for this fund and our members are generous and this is one important way that we witness Jesus' love that no one is excluded and that all are important. The nourishment we receive for our souls at the altar of God, in the bread and wine, the prayers and fellowship allow us to extend the grace we receive to feed the bodies and protect the lives of our brothers and sisters around the world.

During this month of February, designated Black History Month, we've heard other stories of people approaching the well looking for the living water of God's promises. Through forums and personal witnesses we've heard individual accounts of lives lived in the shadow of racism and prejudice. Lives of African Americans and lives of Americans of European descent. What has not been said yet, and needs to be said publicly and from the pulpit is that racism is a white person's disease. While prejudice is an equal opportunity character flaw, racism not only includes it but extends further to the abuse of power exercised by one race over another. When the race that is in the majority of power, systematically uses that power to keep another race down, it is racism. In this country racism is rampant and despite our desire to be blind the truth of it transcends our education, economic and justice systems.

The impact of racism is felt overwhelmingly and tragically by African Americans and indeed most people of color. But the sin of racism is felt keenly by white America in ways we can't even recognize. It takes a lot of energy to hate. It takes a lot of energy to fear. It takes a lot of energy to push others down. It takes a lot of energy to turn away and pretend nothing is happening. But all that energy has a twisting, negative effect on the ones perpetrating it. That energy is violence and spiritual disease. Violence harms both the victim and the victimizer, and both are in need of healing.

Black History Month is a wonderful way of celebrating the stories of black Americans who achieve wonderful goals and give pride and energy to those chafing under the effects of racism. It's also a time for white Americans to be honest and as Dr. Raboteau so movingly said in his address to us a few weeks ago, repent for the evil that is the legacy we carry.

Therapists who work with family systems and counsel troubled individuals, can often find the impact of harm done generations before through a variety of diseases or hushed stories. Often referred to as the understated "family secrets," these illnesses may include alcoholism, incest, murder, or even neglect. Damage done in one generation is somehow passed down until it is recognized and the generation who does so has the opportunity to break the cycle and work through God's grace to find healing and only then can the dysfunction turn around to find balance and harmony. Only then is peace and love restored and cleaned through the living water of God's love.

The scourge of racism is like the whip whose fiery lash was felt on the backs of African American slaves but held in the angry fist of the white slave owners. Though the legality of slave owning racism is generations old, the shameful legacy exists today and as part of our commitment to Millennium Development, as part of our commitment to love one another and as part of our commitment to God, we must all seek God's healing. As victims and victimizers. We can break the cycle of violence but we must first recognize its past and how it lives in the present and repent it.

In the words of the Rite 1 confession, I address this to our African American brothers and sisters and to all people of color who have been victims of racism and on behalf of the descendants of slave owners and all those of white America who have benefited from the scourge of racism "I am heartily sorry for these our misdoing. The memory of them is grievous unto me, the burden of them is intolerable..." I ask your forgiveness for me and all others who recognize this sin and invite us to a moment of silence to beg God's forgiveness also.

Jesus reached out to the woman at the well and even in her private shame offered living water. He did not send her away, punish her or ignore her. He satisfied her thirst for God's love. As he does for us and all who ask for it. Amen.

February 10, 2008 • "Long and Dusty Road"

The Rev. Deacon Christine McCloud

And so, our long and dusty journey into the wilderness has begun. Lent not only helps us to recall the forty days that Jesus spent in the wilderness as he prepared himself for his ministry but it also gives us an opportunity to go inward and prepare ourselves all over again for the reality that God has for us. It's an opportunity for us to ask ourselves "Where am I as another Lent begins? Where am I on my faith journey at this moment in time?"

When we look closer at today's Gospel, there is an invitation there for us to understand more abundantly what it means to move from the river into the desert. Jesus, after having been baptized in the River Jordan was led into the desert by the power of the Spirit. It is in the barren desert, rife with temptation and angst, that Jesus comes to understand what the will and purpose that God had for his life. And while Satan or the devil or whichever axis of evil tempted him, we find that the choices Jesus had to make were quite similar to those that we confront in our own personal and spiritual decisions.

Forty days is a long time to roam in a barren desert. But imagine what it would be like to roam in a barren desert for 40 years or more. A desert that borders a land rich with resources; where it borders a land touted to have equal opportunity for all; where it borders a land where all you had to do was work hard to achieve the so-called "American" dream. What do you think would happen to your psyche if intermittingly during those 40 years of desert roaming, you came ever so close to leaving the dustiness of that place only to have someone block your exit and push you even further into the thistle and brush of the desert? Many of us would crumble and fall prey to the vultures circling above. Some of us would compromise our very souls to buy our way out that place. And then, there are others like Absalom Jones, Sojourner Truth, Harriet Tubman, and one in particular whose story I'd like to share with you briefly, The Rev. Dr. Pauli Murray, who not only lived barren, desert lives, but who emerged with absolute resolve, from their personal deserts as significant contributors to our American and African-American history and heritage.

The Rev. Dr. Pauli Murray was the granddaughter of a slave and a great-granddaughter of a slave owner who overcome extraordinary barriers throughout her life. She was born during the height of Jim Crow segregation in Durham, North Carolina in 1910 and was forced endure the wholesale burdens of being a black person in a segregated society. Murray had considerable talents as a writer, activist, and attorney, yet these talents would and could not spare her from the prolific racism and sexism that denied her other educational and career opportunities throughout her life. She lived a lifetime on the margins of racial identity and came to a deep understanding of the connectedness that bound all people together and scoffed at the absurd cruelty of segregation. Murray believed strongly that whites, as well as blacks, had much knowledge and experience to gain from racial interaction and she spent most of her years refuting the shallow myths of segregation. Murray's racial policies centered on inclusiveness of all of the races and later on when her gender became another barrier, she focused as much energy and verve on addressing yet another oppressive system that proved to slowly strangle and kill the spirits of those affected.

As I was pulling my thoughts together for my sermon this week, I took a few minutes and I called Rev. Sandye Wilson who was a prot�g� of Pauli Murray and I asked her to share some thoughts of Pauli. Rev. Sandye told me that Pauli's life was very much like today's Gospel story � a life of living in the desert. Rev. Sandye went on to tell me, that when Pauli emerged from her wilderness, she ended up doing some extraordinary things in the midst of constant conflict. Pauli she said evaded and eluded many temptations to sell out her soul and principles and oftentimes, was soundly rejected by her own people and community. Yet, Rev. Sandye went on to say, "Pauli remained strong in the face of incredible odds and adversities � she was never afraid because she knew she was never alone." From the little that I've been able to read of Pauli, she refused to be kept down by regrets or expectations of her past. Instead, she lived on the fringes of history and in many cases, just pulled history along with her.

Pauli's journey that eventually led to a law degree from Howard University, a master's degree from the University of California's law school and a Ph.D. from Yale was neither a clear or straight path � she travelled many a long and dusty road in pursuit of her dreams.

Pauli took leading roles in both the civil rights and feminism movements. A friend said of her, "Murray was a civil rights activist before there was activism and a feminist when feminists could not be found." Pauli was a living testament to the ability of a black woman to garner achievements to the match of anyone, black or white, male or female. Her political activism challenged the exclusion of blacks and women before many of these issues were even on the national forefront. She fought for integration before it became a goal of the leading civil rights organizations such as the NAACP whose primary focus was on achieving equal rights, not integration. In 1940, Pauli along with a friend were arrested, jailed and fined for refusing to go to the back of a Virginia bus. This was a precursor to the "jail-no bail" strategy that would gain popularity 20 years later. While a student at Howard in the mid 40's, she participated in sit-in movements to desegregate Washington D.C.'s restaurants and other public facilities long before sit-in's were the mode of choice for the civil rights movement in the 60's.

She was rejected early on to the University of North Carolina law school because of her race and later on, after winning a fellowship to Harvard University, was denied admittance there because of her gender. These experiences guaranteed that Pauli would be both pioneer in civil rights and women's rights. In 1945 Murray successfully completed her Masters of Law degree from the University of California, Berkeley. Her master's thesis was The Right to Equal Opportunity in Employment, which Thurgood Marshal labeled the "bible" for civil rights lawyers. Twenty years later, she was the first African American to be awarded a Doctor of Juridical Science degree from Yale University Law School.

She was a trusted friend and advisor to Eleanor Roosevelt, although their relationship was often called "mercurial and contemptuous." The First Lady sought Pauli's wisdom and council on matters of racial and gender equality. In the 60's, she became a founding member of the National Organization of Women where she is fondly remembered as the one who bridged the gap between race, gender, culture and class with passion and dedication, but without bitterness or malice.

How I came to know about Pauli Murray was that I knew her to be one of the "infamous 11" women who were ordained on January 8, 1977 in Philadelphia. I was 15 years old at the time, a sophomore in high school who secretly dreamed of ordained ministry one day. What a cathartic event that was for me! I remember cutting out and saving the picture from an article from whatever magazine and seeing Pauli Murray's face among the women. Not only were there female priests, but there was one there who looked like me to boot. I carried that picture in my prayer book for many years. It served as a constant reminder to me that things were possible even when they didn't appear to be possible. Somewhere along the way, I lost that picture, but by that time, I no longer needed it because the image was indelibly seared into my brain. The spiritual fortitude and boldness of these women allowed a young teenaged girl to one day realize her own dream.

At 67 years of age, Pauli Murray became the first African-American woman ordained priest in the Episcopal Church. In her autobiography, Song In A Weary Throat: An American Pilgrimage, she wrote: "Several days before ordination, I was suddenly seized by an agony of indecision, as though I had been assaulted by an army of demons. The thought that the opponents of women's ordination might be right and that I might be participating in a monstrous wrong terrified me� I prayed fervently for some sign that I was doing God's will." As the story goes, during the ordination service, Pauli was the last one to be ordained. At the very moment when the bishop laid hands on her head, the sun broke through and streams of colored light shined down through the stained glass windows. The audience gasped, and later on, Pauli was told about the moment. She took it as a true sign of God's will. Her ordination to the priesthood was a powerful sanction of her identity in the oneness of God. One month after her ordination, Pauli had the opportunity to celebrate the Holy Eucharist in the Episcopal Chapel of the Cross in Chapel Hill, the same chapel where records show that on December 20, 1854, her grandmother, Cornelia Smith, a slave child of Mary Ruffin, was baptized. Pauli said of her experience at Chapel Hill that she finally believed that "all of the strands of my life had come together."

Pauli Murray worked incessantly to obliterate any barrier that kept us apart as people. She not only dreamed of a world and society where all of God's people could come together regardless of their differentness, she worked tirelessly to be a model of change. She did not waiver or falter in the face of her own oppression nor did she cower or run from the inevitable opposition from those who were staunchly against any type of change. Pauli knew, better than most, that any type of oppression is a sickness that is a sure killer of the spirit and mind. She knew that the only way to continue the liberation of the human spirit was to "soak ourselves in the waters of our baptism."

Pauli Murray died of pancreatic cancer in July, 1985. With all that she accomplished with her life, for the good works she manifested during our country's most difficult times, her fight for inclusion and connectedness continued and still continues after her death. She forced people to look at the entire picture of oppression. "Don't make me choose which issue to fight for," she once said, "I am as oppressed as a woman in a man's world as I am as a Negro in a White world." Some people � black and white, men and women � hated her for that. As Rev'd Elizabeth Kaeton said, "Why even in ECUSA (the Episcopal Church), it's 'easier' to remember Absalom Jones than Pauli Murray. And this has remained so. It has taken our Church nearly 20 some odd years to even consider Pauli important enough to be included in our Lesser Fasts and Feasts.

None of us will ever have to endure the obstacles that Pauli Murray had to in her life. And virtually none of us will have the opportunities to be leaders in so many different aspects of history as she had. However, all of us do have the opportunity to accept God's invitation to wade in the waters of His absolute love and truth and to set our hearts on fire in passionate service to Him.

Amen.

December 24, 2007 • Christmas Eve

The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

The Gospel reading brings us once again to the stable in Bethlehem. With the shepherds we hear the angels tell of wondrous things and in our minds eye and hearts journey we too go to the stable to see if all they said is true and upon finding it is so, worship.

They and we worship God in thanksgiving for a love so immense to join us in our humanity. It's hard to imagine what that means, that God becomes human, but there it is, the fact of this baby's birth who came to change the world. Even the most cynical of people has to admit that this baby did alter the course of human events, gave us a benchmark of life to measured before and after.

The Shepherds looked in the stable and saw the baby, and saw in the flesh their hope for a better world, a world of peace, a world without fear, a world in which the order they had only dreamed about was restored.

What do you see on this Christmas Eve night as you go to the stable and look over the sill into the life of the Holy Family. As Mary holds the baby to her, so new to the world and yet at the same time eternally ancient. As she holds this paradox, gurgling and vulnerable, what are we looking for? What hope resides in this little being for us?

I think we have endless expectations. For each of us in need, pain or fear we look to this baby as hope for a return to a normal way of life. A time when fear or grief or pain didn't exist. But if we look for that, I think we will be disappointed. God never, in all scriptures, goes backward to a time once inhabited, but rather leads people into a new place beyond the old world. Isaiah described it in this way, "The people in darkness have seen a great light." The light is a beacon to a place of new beginnings and new hope. A place to start again, where faith and intention can link and create new and healthy possibilities.

Perhaps that is always the best hope of all, that there will be a future. God's promise in all scripture is to open our eyes to see His love unfold among those who are open to it and allow themselves to be used for it. They spread the word, as the disciples of Jesus did later on, that God is in the world and active, living, breathing, and among us to bring us to a higher place.

This isn't always an easy message to hear. There is so much violence in the world - physical, emotional, spiritual. War rages, terrorism infiltrates every corner of societies around the world. And terrorists are not just those in the Middle East who strap bombs to themselves. Terrorists exist right here in our own land, in gangs, organized crime, vigilantes, and those who discriminate against others preventing their employment, living situations, marriage rights, or any other immoral exercise of power.

We look to churches and houses of faith for comfort and direction and sadly even the church has it's struggles and divisions with varying degrees of pain and confusion.

It's precisely into this world that God comes in human form. Precisely to bring hope that is needed. The hope is to learn a way to live in this world peacefully and justly.

There is a story that after World War II, German students went to England to help rebuild a Cathedral that had been damaged in the German bombings. Among the rubble they found a statue of Jesus and as they worked on its repair, they were unable to find or restore the hands of the statue. They discussed the dilemma and decided to leave the hands off the statue, putting an inscription on the base that was inspired by the written works of St. Theresa of Avila in the late 1600's. They wrote, "Christ has no hands but ours."

The full text of St. Theresa's prayer goes like this:

Lord Christ, You have no body on earth but ours,
No hands but ours, No feet but ours.
Ours are the eyes through which your compassion
Must look out on the world.
Ours are the feet by which you may still
Go about doing good.
Ours are the hands with which You bless people now.
Bless our minds and bodies, That we may be a blessing to others.

The prayer is a beautiful gift given to us by St. Theresa. It gives expression and movement to the hope inside us to make the world better than it is.

We are the hands, the feet, the compassion and heart of God. It is that part of the spirit of God living within us that calls to be born, no screams out to be born and to grow. We are at our best when we give of ourselves, and God is able to use us each day to stand for justice and love in the worlds in which we live and move and have our being.

The true message of Christmas is perhaps not so much that God came into the world, but that God resides in each of us waiting to be born anew. St. Paul says that we are the temple of the Holy Spirit. If that is true, there is something of God in us that calls us into a deeper awareness of what it means to be alive.

One of the ministries at St. George's is healing prayer. It's doesn't have the flash and dazzle of crutches being tossed away, nor the sale of potions to cure any illness. It's a form of prayer that seeks to heal the spirit. I think most people have heard of the ways in which our emotional state can impact our physical state, for example one's anxiety can cause high blood pressure and it's related problems. Or stress can cause ulcers. There are many ways in which we can demonstrate the connection between body, mind and spirit. The healing prayer is a way of healing the spirit from pain and distress that may or may not have physical manifestations. Spiritual pain and illness is real in itself an in need of healing. The prayers for healing are offered after communion at a couple stations near the rail and if you haven't stopped by, I urge you to do so sometime. If you've never done this before, when you kneel at the prayer desk you can ask for a specific prayer about something that is on your mind or connected to someone you love. You may even just ask for a general prayer. Praying with and for each other is one of the main works of the church community. It is a sacrament of healing offered by and for people as children of God, loved by God and seeking to love God in as deep way as possible. Prayer honors the Spirit of God in each of us and as we are healed we can become healing agents in a world so much in need of it.

God came into the world to heal the world, and that baby in the manger is also born in us through our desire to be part of that healing. It is a wonder and a miracle. It is a blessing and a gift to be received and given freely. Amen.

December 23, 2007 • Fourth Sunday of Advent

The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

"Joseph, Son of David, do not be afraid..."

The Advent stories largely deal with the characters of John the Baptist and Mary. John, because he heralds the coming of the Christ as an adult and Mary because she said "Yes" when the angel came to announce that she would bear the child of God. In different times and different ways, these two characters fit so closely in theme to the coming of the Christ and the fulfillment of God's promise to the world.

This week in Advent another character takes the foreground. Joseph. Joseph is usually a shadow figure in the Gospels. He is referred to in only a few places, notably in the birth narratives escorting Mary to Bethlehem and being part of the caravan when Jesus was twelve and left behind by mistake in Jerusalem. He's never even given any lines. The most attention he is ever given is in this small story. And yet it is a rich story and tells us a lot about the man God entrusted to take care of Mary and Jesus.

Consider Joseph for a while. Traditions say that Joseph was probably older than Mary at the time of their engagement. As such he would have had more say in their wedding than Mary did in those days of arranged marriages. It's reasonable to assume that he wanted the marriage and was looking forward to it. It's also reasonable to imagine his shock, disappointment, and perhaps shame at the news of her pregnancy.

He could have reacted in different ways. He could have been enraged and had her stoned to death as an adulteress. It was within his rights and might have assuaged some sense of public humiliation. Just as she had a reputation, so did he. Her reputation was ruined by being pregnant before her marriage, but his could have been salvaged by some public and righteous outrage. Placing all the blame for this situation on her could have made him into the victim and allowed him to maintain some respect in the eyes of his neighbors.

It could have gone that way, but Matthew describes him as "righteous man." Being righteous he came to the merciful and loving decision to divorce her quietly. Others would no doubt find out about her pregnancy, but by then he would have been out of the picture, and safe from ridicule. It's clear from the decision he made that he truly loved her and wanted to see no harm come to her, not even at the expense of a contained scandal. For someone who cared that much, the decision had to be agonizing. Still, he made it in as merciful a way as he could and finally went to sleep.

The Bible has a long list of people who went to sleep and encountered God in their dreams. It's not hard to imagine. Sometimes our heads are so full of noise we wouldn't be able to hear God if we tried. Meditation practices even today are so hard because we have the voices and noise in our heads competing for attention. Thoughts like monkeys in the trees, as it's been said. We quiet down at night and when we're asleep the conscious thoughts take a break and the unconscious thoughts finally have a chance.

So, it seems, does God. There was another Joseph in the Bible for whom dreams were important. This Joseph, known to us as the one who was given a coat of many colors, also dreamed and interpreted dreams. I suspect the writer of Matthew thought of him as he wrote.

And an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, "Joseph, do not fear to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins."

And Joseph did as the angel said.

Consider Joseph. He came to a crossroads and made a choice out of love for Mary and in faith that the angel who came to him in a dream was real and not some imaginary being or dream allegory. Just as Mary had come to a place of believing something utterly fantastic - so did Joseph. Mary was called to bear the child. Joseph was called to protect and raise the child with her. He was called to adopt the child.

Some of you will remember that two of the Gospels include genealogies demonstrating Jesus' lineage since he was supposed to be a descendant of the great King David. The problem is that in both cases the genealogy leads to Joseph, not Mary, and we see the problem there. However in the law of the Israelites, even more so than our own culture, adoption was as good as blood relations. If a man claimed a child as his own, that sealed it. Joseph claimed Jesus as his son, and that made it so. It took courage for Joseph to do that and he did it.

The issue of adoption is one many of us can relate to. In this parish, indeed in all of Maplewood, there is a high proportion of adopted children. It is a wonderful and exciting characteristic of both parish and neighborhood. And the bonds of adoption are tight. When an adoptive parent says, "This is my daughter" or "This is my son," it is so. Adoptions come after much soul searching, discernment and total commitment to a radical lifestyle in every way that couples who choose to have children biologically make. It takes hard work to accomplish it and a commitment of time. When I was growing up, as I imagine many of you will remember, discovery that a child was adopted had a level of stigma attached. It was a secret shame in some respects or simply one of those things that wasn't talked about. The pride and love so evident and celebrated is a mark of how far we have come in valuing God's children from all over the world. So, three cheers for adoptive parents and adoptive communities that embrace them.

In this spirit, we see Joseph adopting Jesus and fully embracing him without fear or shame. And his life became determined by that decision.

Advent and Christmas are a time to consider this particular adoption, and perhaps like Joseph to wrestle with what it means to adopt Jesus into our family - into ourselves- and change our lives. Having a child is not a part time job, neither is claiming one. The power of God's love is totally transforming and even when the full meaning of that reality is sometimes obscure, the life we live is a way of bringing clarity to that realization. The angel told Joseph not to be afraid and that same message is to us also. Do not be afraid to adopt this child, because it was conceived by the Holy Spirit and God is with you.

The methods of adopting in today's society are clear, even though lengthy and difficult. It's not always as clear about how to adopt Jesus. It comes first with a decision that it's time to embrace Him in what he taught us about God's love, acceptance and following a way of life that leads us to do what we believe to be just, merciful and humble. In our dealings with others and how we treat ourselves as brothers and sisters also loved and adopted by God. It's simple, but not always easy.

In one of his Epistles, Paul wrote that we are children of God's by adoption and grace. This theme clearly plays from time to time in scriptures and speaks to the closeness of the relationship between God and all God's children. We are truly and deeply loved by God. We are God's children though adoption called to enter a world of fantastic belief in the power of God's love and the leaving behind of the fear and shame that might prevent us from embracing it. Joseph does not need to be a figure who remains in the shadows, but one who is an important witness to the courage to adopt Jesus. Sometimes it is clear, sometimes there is a night of wrestling. Sometimes we fall and need to be reminded to try again and again if necessary, but not to give up. Angels are persistent, and they deliver the messages of a persistent God. Consider Joseph and adopt the baby. Do not be afraid. Amen.

December 16, 2007 • Third Sunday of Advent

The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

"Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?" This question from John the Baptist comes as a surprise. Earlier in the record of Matthew's gospel John met Jesus at the Jordan and baptized him. At that time he seemed to recognize Jesus as the Chosen One and in fact tried to prevent Jesus from being Baptized by him. He instead tried to have Jesus baptize him.

It was a wonderful moment of fulfillment. Jesus told him, "Let it be so now, for thus it is fitting for us to fulfill all righteousness." Then John consented. He immersed Jesus in the waters of the Jordan river and as Jesus came back on the banks of the river the heavens opened and a voice was heard to say "This is my beloved son with whom I am well pleased."

This appearance of Jesus and brief encounter with John was full of the promise of the prophets. It was a time of announcement and discovery. John spent so much time denying that he was the Messiah, and telling people that the Chosen One was coming later. And here it was. The time was fulfilled. Jesus began him ministry after the Baptism, after the fasting and solitude in the desert and temptations by the Devil. He began by teaching and healing.

John, on the other hand, was interrupted in his ministry. He had criticized Herod for marrying his brother's wife and for this he was put in prison. People in authority do not like to be publicly criticized and there is a long tradition for leaders who put critics in prison. And there John heard about Jesus in a way that was detached.

Odd then, that he would send his disciples to Jesus to ask him, "Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for anther?" What happened to John's resolve? What happened to the clarity he had at the Jordan River? Something caused him to wonder if he had been mistaken. Perhaps it was that Jesus didn't meet John's expectation. Like most of the Israelites, John spent much time expecting the Messiah and no doubt forming ideas about what the Messiah would be like and what he would do.

Like most of the Israelites Jesus encountered over time, after the initial splash of excitement, they had doubts and wondered. Ultimately that doubt would lead to a cross, but I get ahead of myself.

Jesus reminds the disciples of John what the Messiah was sent to do - give sight to the blind, make the lame to walk, cleanse lepers, raise the dead and give good news to the poor. He concludes by saying "Blessed is anyone who takes no offense at me." It is a reminder to John that the Messiah is here to heal and reconcile those in need to God. And in that moment of Grace similar to the moment at the banks of the Jordan River, it is John who needs that word of hope. It is John who needs healing and it is John who needs Good news.

The lessons of Advent are collections of words of hope to people in need of believing, who for whatever reason either grow tired of waiting or have their expectations frustrated. Even John the Baptist wondered if he should be looking for another.

What do we do when our expectations and patience for God are stretched beyond what we are comfortable with? When God dos not act in the way we think He should? Or have our priorities? We don't have to look too far to see those who have indeed gone looking elsewhere. I don't think it's dishonest to say that we ourselves at one time or another have wondered if we're wasting our time and that this can't be the one after all. There are times for all of us when we think that perhaps we must look for another.

These happen at low points in our lives. We may not be like John in an actual prison, but it's not too far off the mark to say that periods of frustration and doubt can be prisons of their own. Periods of grief and illness, periods of physical, emotional or psychic pain - each of these can be prisons. Perhaps John wondered why Jesus didn't come to get him out. If I had been John and done all the advance work for Jesus' appearance I think I would have had some expectations of Jesus helping out a little bit with the local Amnesty International Chapter. John's probable lament of "Hey, what about me?" is echoed in the voice of any person whose life long beliefs and good works seem to merit special attention from God. When that special attention or intervention doesn't come in a timely or desired fashion, doubt creeps in. Maybe I should look for another. This implies that "another" would certainly do what I want.

Most of you know how the story ends for John the Baptist. It wasn't a happy ending. While in prison, the wife of Herod that John had criticized conspired to have him killed and in fact John was beheaded while in prison. On thing we can say about the Bible is that they don't sugar coat their stories. It's real life in a time that was brutal. We live in times that are also tough and often brutal. War to corporate crime, to young people with guns shooting and killing innocent people in public places. Brutality and injustice seem to thrive and our expectations of the Chosen One shift to the needs of our culture. And the promises we've been given seem to weaken in the wake of our painful realities.

Still, for each brutal act from the killing of John the Baptist to the murder of innocents in a midwestern mall there are acts of kindness and hope that meet the challenges and responds of love to the victims and families. Those who are cripples by grief are made to walk again in time. Those who are blinded by anger or fear are given sight to see beyond their pain and fear. Those who have died in their loss of hope are resurrected with a new sense through the love of God working in each of us for good. And all who are poor in spirit have good news preached to them. This happens through God's love and grace. We live in a world that is not immune to suffering, but even in that suffering God is present and leads us beyond. God also took on suffering, not only the cross, but the doubt and betrayal of friends and disciples.

Jesus was clear in his identity and his mission and as such continues as a beacon to all of us who would allow the pain and disappointments of this world to bring us down.

Advent is a time of expectant energy. It is a time to remind ourselves through the stories of our scriptures and ancestors in the faith to remain open and hopeful. To remember that eve in times of crippling doubt and the prisons of despair that we do see the blind recieving their sight and lame walking and the lepers cleansed, the dead raised. We are the poor who have good news to bring. And we are blessed in this. Amen.

December 2, 2007 • First Sunday of Advent

The Rev. Bernard W. Poppe, Rector

A good many years ago I sat by the Christmas tree one morning opening gifts. They were given to me in a particular order and I was intrigued by the deliberate nature of this process, so unusual for the regular random package opening. But here they came in a particular order. In the first couple box there were several short sleeve shirts. This struck me as somewhat odd, since it was in fact Winter, and a cold one at that. But, a gift is a gift and perhaps the bargain table was just too much to resist. The next box, much lighter than even the shirt box contained a pair of sandals. Again, an odd choice for winter, but they were nice and one does get sandals cheaper when the snow is on the ground. I was beginning to get tired of the bargain hunting theme. There were several of these boxes containing seasonally inappropriate gifts when the last box was handed to me. It was the smallest and lightest of all. When I opened the box I was stunned to see two airline tickets to St. Croix. Most other people would have caught on to this pattern long before the final box, but since this thinking was essentially out of the box for me I was totally taken by surprise. The friend giving me the gifts was absolutely delighted by my stupification. I remember having at least the presence of mind to ask, "When are we going?" He said with an evil grin, "Tomorrow." The shock I had felt before was nothing compared to the shock of that news. "Tomorrow?" Now, having already established that I'm slow on the uptake, you'll understand that for me, it wasn't really processing that "tomorrow" actually meant the next day. But, that is precisely what occurred and it was a wonderful trip.

In the weeks after the trip, after the pictures were developed (yes, this story took place before digital cameras) I enjoyed the memories of the trip, but also realized that something was missing. For some reason this trip was unlike others, and I felt a little off balance by it. It wasn't until sometime later that I realized the missing piece for me had to do with the planning. Since this trip was a surprise, I had no part in putting it together. As a result, the weeks of anticipation were not there. There are three ways we enjoy a trip - the planning of it, the going on it, and the memories of it. Having missed the planning phase, one of the important parts of the full process was missing.

Through that experience, I learned to enjoy consciously and intentionally the gift of anticipation. We often hear of "immediate gratification" as though that were the most desirable thing. I believe gratification is richer and deeper when is takes a while to get there and anticipation is the slow, savory cooking of the actual event, a fine form of gratification in its own right.

We begin this season of Advent today as part of the anticipation of Christmas. Street decorations, store window displays, Rockerfeller Center tree and 24 hour Christmas music not withstanding, it is not Christmas yet. To dive into Christmas without a season of anticipation is to rob us of the deep satisfaction of proper planning for a season which begins on December 25, and not ends.

Our liturgical colors of deep blues and purples are ancient colors of royalty as we await the coming of the sovereign God. The lighting of the Advent candles mark the weeks of our anticipation. Slowly and patiently adding decorations help build up the expectation. Placing wrapped presents not to be opened tease children of all ages with curiousity that is rewarded in time.

The lessons we read are scriptural forms of anticipation. Isaiah anticipates a day when Israel was to be a beacon to the nations of justice and mercy for all people. A nation living in harmony with God and each other, a day when the weapons of destruction would be beat into plowshares, and they would forget the methods of war since war itself would become obsolete. In his letter to the Romans Paul anticipates the second coming of Christ to be close at hand. Yet despite how close it is, he warns the Romans reading his letters that waiting is no excuse to be foolish and lazy. He writes to the Romans that they should wait for Jesus honorably and wear an armor of light, a beautiful image of hope rising like the sun on the day they've long waited for.

Matthew, in this Gospel tempers the expectation with the words about not knowing when that day or hour is. Keep awake, wait, anticipate. The quality of anticipation is a life style that looks forward to when life and the world will be more and more in harmony with God and that our spirits live alongside each other in love and peace. We still long for the day when our weapons of war will have peaceful uses and our energy and technology will be used to generate better lives, not more destructive ones.

I love the season of Advent for it's energizing anticipation. I love the way the church looks and am very grateful to the altar guild for their patient and loving preparation as the season unfolds. I am grateful to the choir for their extra work as they anticipate the special music of this season. I am grateful to all those in each part of the life of this church who are drawn into the experience of expecting the Christ child in this most wonderful manger. All our preparations are a glimpse into and a metaphor of the life of expectation that we as Christians are called to live. Even our architecture calls us into expectation. Church buildings are generally build in a way that orients the altar on the east end of the structure. It's done that way so that all the people are facing east, and St. George's also falls into this style. Christianity is one of the many religions whose people face east to pray as a way of watching the sun rise and with it the hope of a new day. The earliest Christians look for Jesus to come again from the east. Just as there is that magical moment called the darkest part of the night before the dawn, so we in our faith hold fast even through the darkest parts of our lives in anticipation of the dawn of God's love and grace in our lives.

Advent is not just these four weeks. Advent is a way of life. It's not only a countdown to the celebration of the Nativity, an exhausted dash to the finish line. It is the place in our souls that waits for God to appear in ways desperately needed and utterly unexpected. It is an openness to God unlike anything else in our lives. It is the same faith expressed by Isaiah and Paul and so many others through time that God has always been with us, is with us, and will come to us and all the same time.

Next Saturday Chris Carroll will be ordained a priest. Now she is in the period of Advent looking forward to how God will work in her life in that ministry. After many years of preparation and expectation the moment will come and it will be in one sense a conclusion to a process, but in a very real sense it is only the beginning of a new life yet to be seen. As we begin families, new jobs, new schooling, our lives are one in Advent, full of expectation and hope as to how God will be present in those moments creating new life and wonder full of healing grace. And even in moments of pain, grief and sorrow we are people of Advent looking to the sun of God�s righteousness and hope rising in the darkest moments of our lives.

There is not a day or a moment in which the promise of God is not there to unfold in new ways bringing us to new places in our lives and in our spirits. We do not know the times or the days, but our faith keeps us on the edge of our seats knowing that God will come. Amen.

November 25, 2007 • Christ the King Sunday

The Rev. Deacon Christine McCloud

How many of us are comfortable with the notion of kingships or kingdoms? As Americans and those of us have become "Americanized," the language of kingship is a little problematic for us. Our history as a nation was founded and shaped around the democratic principles of government and the idea of replicating a monarchal type of government was soundly renounced and rejected. Aside from our insatiable curiosity of the comings and goings of the British Royal Family, the idea of kingships and monarchies don't really