Sermons

Epiphany/Baptism of Jesus

January 9, 2022

Let me start off with an apology: I’m not preaching about the wise men or the star or anything in the gospel reading you just heard! When I reached out to Deborah about preaching, I hadn’t realized we would be celebrating Epiphany this Sunday and would not be reading from the normal gospel selection from the lectionary. Deborah encouraged me to go ahead – and if I had any lingering doubts about sticking with this sermon, they were put to rest when I discovered Marjory had shared a gospel reflection for Inward/Outward yesterday on the very same theme, without either of us knowing what the other was thinking.

So, since you haven’t heard it yet, let me take a moment and share with you the lectionary reading that I will be preaching from, Luke chapter 3, verses 15-22: As the people were filled with expectation, and all were questioning in their hearts concerning John, whether he might be the Messiah, John answered all of them by saying, “I baptize you with water; but one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire. His winnowing fork is in his hand, to clear his threshing floor and to gather the wheat into his granary; but the chaff he will burn with unquenchable fire.” Now when all the people were baptized, and when Jesus also had been baptized and was praying, the heaven was opened, and the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove. And a voice came from heaven, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

I know “the point” of this passage is Jesus’s baptism, but reading this, what grabbed my attention was mention of the wheat and the chaff. “To separate the wheat from the chaff” is a Biblical image that has become a common idiom – to separate the valuable from the worthless, or as Merriam-Webster defines: “to judge which people or things in a group are bad and which ones are good.”

Christmastide

January 2, 2022

Invincible Summer
Let the bells be silenced
Let the gifts be stillborn
Let cheer be muted
Let music be soundless
Violence stalks the land

Howard Thurman

That’s a quote from one of the Inward/Outward readings this week, and that’s about how I feel, a lot of the time.

We are in the midst of winter.  It’s a new calendar year, but the Earth has not renewed herself yet.  For us in the northern hemisphere, in the United States, the days are short, the light feeble.  And what a strange winter it’s been – tornados, floods, brushfires.  It’s enough to make a person despair of anything ever getting better.  But we also know about seasons.  There’s never yet been a winter without a spring.  Somehow Mother Earth does bloom again, and we, her creatures, are released from the grip of frost and foreboding.

My own mood is very wintry, on this January 2^nd.  I have much to be grateful for each day, and I have led a privileged and grace-filled life.  But what turns my spirit cold inside is what I see happening to our country.  There is every chance that I, that every one of us, is going to lose some of the most precious privileges – we like to call them “rights” — that we have always enjoyed.  I’m not an especially patriotic person.  I think the U.S. has done some things very well, others very poorly.  But I truly never thought that our long, slow path toward equality at the ballot box – just to take one instance – would be reversed, with the express intent of allowing one political party to gain power illegitimately.  To be honest, I thought I would die before anything truly drastic happened to the U.S. — which is the sort of comfort a white male can take, surveying his own enviable position.

 Well, it hasn’t worked out that way.  The bell is tolling, a lot sooner than I expected.

Christmastide

December 25, 2021

Good morning.  I usually start off by saying “if you remember one thing I’ve said today, then I’ve done my job.”  So I’ll start off by saying:  AA’S Third Step says, “Made a decision to turn my will and my life over to the care of God.”  My will is my thoughts and my life are my actions.

A week ago Saturday, I said goodbye to one of my dogs.  His name was Empty.  It was a sad moment for me, but my conscience is clear.  It was his time, and that was the last act of love that we did for him.  Two other dogs that I had been caring for also received the last act of love this year.  Both Toby and Pepper are now gone, and I miss all three of those dogs.

Community-wise this year, Brenda’s father, Margreta’s husband, Rosa’s mother, and Oswaldo’s sister have all passed on.  Collectively, they will all be missed and not forgotten.

Today I am fully vaccinated, and no, I don’t know what’s in it.  Neither this vaccine or the ones that I had as a child.  Nor do I know the 11 secret herbs and spices at KFC, or the ingredients in hot dogs or  CocaCola’s secret recipe  or other treatments for cancer, AIDS, arthritis or vaccines for children. 

Advent 4

December 19, 2021

In our lectionary text for today, we pick up the story of Mary and Elizabeth at its dramatic climax: the six-months -along baby in Elizabeth’s womb “jumps for joy” when Mary arrives on Elizabeth’s doorstep, newly pregnant by the holy spirit’s divine intervention.

Both women are given prophetic speech by Luke. First Elizabeth, who says (in a loud voice), “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb! But why am I so favored, that the mother of the Messiah should come to me?”

Elizabeth’s question is rhetorical — she already knows that Mary is carrying “the Messiah.” Earlier in chapter 1, Luke has told us that Elizabeth and her husband, Zachariah, were both from priestly families – thus linking them to their Jewish clan heritage. We also know that they were well beyond the age of bearing children and that Elizabeth felt the deep disgrace of being barren. Most likely, they both considered her barrenness a judgment against them.

Advent 3

December 12, 2021

We’re in the midst of a pandemic virus with seemingly no end to its mutations. At the same time, we are experiencing epidemics of addiction and deaths from opioids and from firearm violence. Our political partisanship has risen to levels dangerous to our representative democracy. Our nation continues to experience racial injustice and violence against racial, ethnic, and religious minorities but may not have the will to examine our history to see what brought us to this state and what we can do about it. And threatening us over everything else is the dangerous impact of climate change. We want, we need, we pray to be delivered from all this, to be saved from all this.

Are you feeling joyous this Advent? Advent was originally a 40-day fast beginning on November 12, much like the 40-day fast of Lent. It was a time of penitence in preparation for Christmas. Fortunately, in the ninth century Advent was reduced to four weeks. That reduction of penitential time alone should make us joyous! Today, the third Sunday of Advent, is Gaudete Sunday in Roman Catholicism, the Anglican church, and the Protestant churches. Many churches light a rose-colored candle in their Advent wreath on Gaudete Sunday. In Latin, Gaudete means “rejoice,” which is the first word of the introit in the Mass for today, coming from the Philippians text we heard.