Sermons

April 01, 2007

Our Roman Catholic brothers and sisters have a way to do that called the Stations of the Cross. In virtually every Roman Catholic worship space, there is a series of fourteen artworks placed at regular intervals along the walls. Particularly during Lent and Holy Week, but at other times of the year, as well, individuals and groups process slowly from one to another, stopping at each one to pray as they remember Jesus’ final journey to the cross. While often these artworks simply tell the story in pictures, sometimes they are quite abstract. Indeed, sometimes there is nothing more than numbers painted on the wall to remind the faithful of each stage on the journey. With its roots in the Middle Ages, praying the Stations is a way to focus one’s thoughts, to slow down, to meditate, and to listen for the voice of God.

March 25, 2007

In our world today, we see so many glitzy kinds of love: Love of possessions, the idolizing of celebrities, and–worst of all–failing to see the need for love under our noses. I look back at my own life, and I must confess that I also am guilty of failing to love those who pulled at me to love them–classmates or neighbors rejected by everyone, occasional handicapped persons who could not keep up with the crowd, the ill who would have appreciated visits from me. Therefore, in turning away from the pulling to love, I turned away from the light. Thomas Merton calls this "the rejection of disinterested love."

March 11, 2007

We are on a hired bus, about to enter Winterveldt. We turn off the wide, paved highway onto a dry dirt road. The driver, an Afrikaner, begins to mutter to himself. We roll along the road until he spots a washout ahead. Slowing to a stop, he stands and announces almost joyfully, that this is as far as he can take us. We should get our baggage, and would have to walk the rest of the way. As he set the bags out onto the road, we heard yelping sounds. We looked towards them and saw six or seven Bokamoso young men leaping through the high grasses towards us. They had seen the cloud of dust that announced our arrival. They warmly greeted us, and they swooped up the suitcases and walked with us to the Guest House.

February 18, 2007

That moment on the mountain where Jesus and Moses and Elijah are all talking with each other and are glowing with the inner knowledge of being fully loved and fully chosen of God, is also a reminder that we each have an important word to add to God’s evolving story of redemption.  Without Moses the people of Israel would not have had the law that gave them a way of separating themselves and distinguishing themselves from all the other people and gods around them.  Without Eiljah, who harassed and held accountable the kings of Israel to loving the God of Israel and forsaking all others, the nation of Israel would have lost their way, and without Jesus who showed us a way of Love and how the Kingdom of God is full of surprises and unexpected grace, we would not be here having this conversation.
 
Without me and without you, how will this story of God’s redemption continue?

February 11, 2007

I am pleased that Seekers chose to participate in the nationwide program named Evolution Sunday. More than 500 other congregations are similarly involved this morning. You can learn more about the Evolution Sunday effort and about the Clergy Letters project by looking up Evolution Sunday on the web.

A major impetus behind Evolution Sunday as well as the regional chapter of the Alliance for Science, which Richard Lawrence helped to start, has been to rally religious support for the teaching of good science, including evolution, in the public schools. I support the systemic advocacy that is part of defending good science against bad theology but this sermon is going in a little bit different direction.