Sermons

Sunday, November 19, 2017

Risky love

Window in the church commemorating the 25th anniversary of the paratroopers
from the 82nd Airborne Division of the US Amry's arrival in
Sante-Mary-Eglise in Normandy.
It seems to me that the stories in the Gospel of Matthew where there is “weeping and gnashing of teeth” cause many people to freeze up in fear. We feel accused, anxious. 

What if I do something that will cause me to be thrown into the outer darkness? Have I already done something? I was hoping there is not an outer darkness but here comes Jesus bringing it up again. Judgment. I’m doomed. I’m afraid. Is Jesus being fair? Is God fair? I don’t want to be judged. I’m sure to be found wanting. No wonder the third man says: I was afraid, and I hid your talent in the ground. 

I can relate.

Sometimes Matthew can be an angry sounding Gospel. There is an emphasis on destruction. And here’s why that is: because there is also an emphasis on power differentials. Jesus calls out those with power who are making life difficult for the oppressed - the poor, the meek, the reviled - those he calls blessed in the Sermon on the Mount. He knows that the powerful are not likely to just say, oh, ok, I’ll hand over some of my power to the have nots; I’ll share power with the peacemakers. Jesus knows we don’t give up our power without an angry fight. And those who are poor and meek and mourning see Jesus as a savior who will fight that fight for them, because they know they can’t win on their own. The odds are against them.

The thing is, Jesus isn’t always going to be there in person. Which is why he journeys through his world accompanied by his disciples. They are going to have to take up his work when he is gone, so he is teaching them. And we get to listen in. 

Today’s teaching is about our calling. It isn’t about talent, as in the ability to play the piano or paint portraits, and it’s not exactly about the money although I think resources do come into play. The three people are given resources to do the master’s work in his absence - that’s their calling, the master’s work. Two of them do that work, but one of them is afraid to take a risk, and sits on the resources, missing the opportunities to live out his calling. I was afraid, he said.

I can relate.

Not long ago someone was in my office and the world “calling” came up. That word makes me kind of nervous, this person said. That word makes me kind of nervous, too, like the Biblical word neighbor sometimes makes me nervous. God is always calling us - all of us, not just clergy or people who work in a church but all of us who are part of the family of God to love our neighbors as ourselves, but I can think up a lot of excuses for why I can’t listen or answer right now. Because when God is calling us, that calling is to make a difference with the resources we have been given - whatever they are. To do justice and love mercy and all that. 

Our calling is to do God’s work in the world around us. And all through this Gospel, Jesus makes clear that justice and righteousness are where he’s coming from. He equips us with his teachings today just as he taught his disciples then. And with this parable he challenges them: will they take up their calling to be justice and righteousness in the world? Or will their fears win out?

I have a friend, a new mother with a baby at home, who recently went to a talk by a man who had been in prison for many years and he said that during all that time, nobody had told him that God loves him, not in person and not on the phone and not in a letter. And she thought, that man is my neighbor. I can write a letter that says God loves you. I am equipped to do that. 

And once I read the story of a man in Palestine who snuck across the border into Israel during a time of particularly lethal conflict in that region in order to give blood at an Israeli hospital. He decided he was equipped to do that for his neighbor.

What is it that stokes our fears? The specter of failure? The stigma of looking stupid or naive? The distress of not measuring up? Worry about being taken advantage of?

I can relate to all of these when I think that whatever I do in the world is simply up to me, that I’m on my own - that I must strive to make things happen with my own personal power. But Jesus also said right here in the Gospel of Matthew, I am with you to the end of the age, just as God said to Moses, I will be with you when you go tell Pharaoh to let my people go. I will be with you when you stick your neck out. I will be with you when you take a risk for my sake. I will be with you when you do justice and love mercy and seek righteousness.

Our Lord has given us work to do and sometimes God calls us to work that feels risky. It is easy to let fear take hold. But we know God loves us, right? 

Jesus who loves us asks each of us, you and me, to take up our calling to be God’s love in the world, secure in the knowledge that we do not do that work alone. God has given us what we need and promised to be with us. 

So take heart. Take a risk. Take a chance on loving every neighbor you meet along your way.











Friday, November 10, 2017

Even the horse wears a robe


A king rides off to battle in this window from Notre Dame Cathedral, Paris. It seems like you're pretty much wearing a neon sign saying "I'm the king, so aim at me" by wearing your crown into battle, but what do I know?

Thank you, Veterans, and Happy Friday!








Thursday, November 9, 2017

More murder


Here we have some more battle scenes preserved in church stained glass windows. 
These are from St Chapelle in Paris. The King's chapel, I suppose, is a place where kings like to look at battle scenes and stuff just as much as they enjoy looking at the life of Jesus and other Biblical figures during the service.






Wednesday, November 8, 2017

Nearly (Headless) Wednesday


A detail from a 13th century window from St Chapelle (the private chapel of King Louis IX). Most of the windows in St Chapelle are original but some were removed and replaced. This piece featuring a knight killing a king is now part of the stained glass exhibit at The Cluny Museum in Paris, a museum entirely dedicated to medieval art.

I wouldn't want to sit near this one in church.







Tuesday, November 7, 2017

Charlemagne


Twelfth century stained glass windows adorn one section of Chartres Cathedral in France. These are scenes from the life of Charlemagne (Carolus in Latin). The 12th century glass is mostly blue and red with accents of green and yellow. Check out Charlemagne's chain mail as he rides into battle in the upper left scene.








Monday, November 6, 2017

Madonna with Paratroopers



This is the paratrooper window at Sainte-Mere-Eglise in Normandy, the village where, as part of the beginning of the D-Day invasion, on the night of June 4 and into June 5, 1944, paratroopers from the 82nd Airborne Division of the US Army rained down on the village to begin the effort to liberate France from German occupation.

The son of the mayor of the village drew this picture as a young teen, and the major commissioned an artist from the village of Chartres to turn it into this stained glass window in the church. It replaced a window destroyed during the war.




Friday, November 3, 2017

Saints at the Foot of the Cross


Fra Angelico depicts the women (along with the Beloved Disciple) at the foot of the cross. Mary the mother of Jesus  in her Marian blue is supported by Mary Magdalene with the loose hair and red robe and by the Beloved Disciple on the right and one of the other women on the left. I love how Mary Magdalene's halo appears to be on the front of her face so that we can see her long red hair (I guess).








Thursday, November 2, 2017

All Faithful Departed


Fra Angelico's rendering (one of many) of the harrowing of Hell, when Christ broke down the gates of Hell (check out the squashed demon under the door) and led all those who had been born before Jesus' time out into the resurrection life.

Today we celebrate All Souls' or All Faithful Departed. Yesterday was focused on All Saints - the martyrs and prophets and big names. Today we commemorate everyone else who has died in the Lord. This day completes the "Fall Triduum" - the three days of All Hallow's Eve, All Saints' Day, and All Souls Day/Commemoration of All Faithful Departed.






Wednesday, November 1, 2017

All Saints' Day

6th Century mosaic of women saints at Sant Appollonare Nuovo, Ravenna, Italy

Almighty God, you have knit together your elect in one
communion and fellowship in the mystical body of your Son
Christ our Lord: Give us grace so to follow your blessed saints
in all virtuous and godly living, that we may come to those
ineffable joys that you have prepared for those who truly love
you; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who with you and the Holy
Spirit lives and reigns, one God, in glory everlasting. Amen.

(BCP 245)



Tuesday, October 31, 2017

A Poem for All Hallows' Eve: Hallow-e'en 1915 by Winifred M. Letts





Hallow-e’en 1915
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Winifred M. Letts (1916)
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Will you come back to us, men of our hearts, to-night
In the misty close of the brief October day?
Will you leave the alien graves where you sleep and steal away
To see the gables and eaves of home grow dark in the evening light?

O men of the manor and moated hall and farm,
Come back to-night, treading softly over the grass;
The dew of the autumn dusk will not betray where you pass;
The watchful dog may stir in his sleep but he’ll raise no hoarse alarm.

Then you will stand, not strangers, but wishful to look
At the kindly lamplight shed from the open door,
And the fire-lit casement where one, having wept you sore,
Sits dreaming alone with her sorrow, not heeding her open book.

Forgotten awhile the weary trenches, the dome
Of pitiless Eastern sky, in this quiet hour
When no sound breaks the hush but the chimes from the old church tower,
And the river’s song at the weir,—ah! then we will welcome you home.

You will come back to us just as the robin sings
Nunc Dimittis from the larch to a sun late set
In purple woodlands; when caught like silver fish in a net
The stars gleam out through the orchard boughs and the church owl flaps his wings.

We have no fear of you, silent shadows, who tread
The leaf-bestrewn paths, the dew-wet lawns. Draw near
To the glowing fire, the empty chair,—we shall not fear,
Being but ghosts for the lack of you, ghosts of our well-beloved dead.







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