St. Bartholomew's Episcopal Church

How to Preach without being Preachy:

Do:

Tell Stories

"Frankie and Johnny were lovers"

Explore Failures

"root-a-toot-toot three times she shoot"

Do highlight confusions

"Johnny loved another woman"

Explain what is going on

"Frankie was jealous. And Johnny was a liar"

Don't:

say "God says." Look - it's a song.

say "I do things right" Have you ever been jealous?

say "Don't do this." If people have to be told not to murder, they have a problem.

Well, did finish the triathlon. I finished as a good Christian.

Which means I came in last, in my age group.

I learned that I wasn’t very competitive. I passed one person on my bike, and felt guilty about it. “Are you sure you can’t go any faster?” I said, “look, I’ll wait for you.”

During the swim, I just let everyone go first.

Dear Friends in Christ.
Grace and Peace from our Lord Jesus Christ be with you all.

In our times, everybody is called to redefine himself/herself and the faith one holds. It is a time of great confusion. For those who wish to know our position on matters of our faith, here are our reflections as we try to "be prepared all the time to answer anyone who questions the integrity of our faith."

Our salvation comes from God through Jesus Christ, the only one "full of grace and truth." It is the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ that draws us to God - the grace we receive unconditionally.
As we received grace, we too try to live according to His grace and become gracious in holding the truth, in how we treat other people and as we relate with one another.

The grace of Jesus Christ has called us not only to renounce evil [ the expression of the Mosaic Law] but more so to bear the fruit of the Spirit of God which is "love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, humility and self-control." Our new life is characterized not so much by avoiding or renouncing evil and sin, but by actively doing what is good -- a reflection of our new life in Jesus Christ. As notorious sinners used to run to Jesus for help, the Church too should become a safe place of refuge, a gracious space where sinners come. If sinners continue to reject and run away from the Church, we will soon know that Jesus is no longer there - in the Church!

Our mission statement expresses it well:

To communicate in word and deed the love of God to everyone in the Diocese, whatever their conditions might be, so that they may know him as Savior;
Be committed to him as Lord;
Rejoice together in the fellowship of the Spirit;
Worship him as Father,
And go out with this message of Jesus Christ's love to others

I want to talk a little bit about where we are, and why we're here.

Why is the mainline protestant church in decline?

1) Demographic shifts in work, age and children
a. Women working
b. People working harder; less voluntarism
c. Graying population
d. Fewer children (although thank you Bendas and Russells)

2) Lack of clear role in the culture
a. Mainline Protestantism's recent successes included
i. The United Nations, which prevented and mitigated serious conflicts.
ii. The Marshall plan which ended war in Europe
iii. The sanctuary movement
iv. Anti- Apartheid
v. Corporate social responsibility
vi. The human rights movement
b. As these became secularized, church role became diminished

Further, we are now encountering the global community as direct neighhbors. Our world has become more interrelated and complex than hinted at when the telegraph was invented. We have American-style Tibetan Buddhists who worship in this building. People in Africa read what we're saying here. We have instant access to viewpoints from the Middle East and England.

We do not live in a culture that assumes the Christian story.

We communicate quickly - sometimes without thought to what is communicated. We are found through the internet, our images interpreted through other people's eyes.

Every new member over the last two months has found us because of our webpage. I spent a lot of time, this summer, testing web-design programs. Fortunately, over the last three months, the number of hits on our web page has increased threefold.

We are caught within global forces that affect us Christians in Westchester, a suburb of Babylon.

The biggest hurdle for us personally is: we're busy. Plain and simple. As we were dipping into the endowment, I often wondered, what would we do without Debbie, our secretary? Would any of us have the time to mop the floors, take out the garbage, and prepare the soup kitchen reliably? Could we help the ECW set up and tear down? Would we be willing to stand next to the drain as Carlos did at 2 in the morning whenever it rained, to make sure there was no flood damage? Would we share our time to renovate our apartments into a livable condition? Who will ensure the bills get paid on time? Who will put off the contractors? Who will call the plumbers, or not call them, when there is a leaky valve in the thrift shop? Who will calculate the numbers in their head as the tenant complains for the third time about the inadequacies of her apartment.

I imagine that
If I were to take a poll
About the cultural issues that concerned you, I would get a wide variety or responses,
A polyphony of problems and complaints and concerns about the direction of our culture.

We might talk about what institutions and behaviors
We should eliminate with the heavy hand of the state;
Others of which we should express
our distinct disapproval and disappointment;
Other problems we should ignore
because we are a church,
the details of such issues
which we know little.

A few suggest supporting reproductive rights;
others find the same representing
A horrifying holocausts.

It has been 15 days since
I have been called as rector, of this beautiful church,
this warm and caring congregation, managing a small part-time staff
in a city, just a half-hour north of Babylon,
a few blocks from county and state courthouses,
three blocks from public housing,
next to an elementary school,
in one of the wealthiest counties, in our wealthy state,
in our wealthy country.

And noone has yet changed the locks.

I've been wishing that I could bring for you
two big stone tablets,
tablets that had been given to me, from on high,
from God himself, or at least from seminary,
Tablets that would give us instructions, a road map,
a plan by which we, here in our small congregation, could implement with confidence,
without any sort of fear or worry,
our anxieties about the future,
dissipated like a dandelion's seed in the wind,
a formula where all we would need
is to plug in our own numbers,
put the right people into the right places
and voila, a prosperous and vital parish appears.

Two tablets,
or even just one.

One would do.

One tablet handed by God.

By Fiat.

We'd need verification of course.

Someone would.

Who knows what advice would be on those tablets?

I don't have those stone tablets.

But even if I did what then?

The Epiphany
Isaiah 60:1-6,9
Ephesians 3:1-12
Matthew 2:1-12

Gold. Frankincense. Myrrh. The gifts of the Magi are among the treasures of this season. The wise men and their gifts have been the subject of legend and lore. They captivate the attention most likely because they appeal to our materialistic sensibilities. We love the mystery of these characters and the exoticism of their precious presents. The charm of the tableau made of the humble infant in the crude surroundings of the stable, juxtaposed with the opulence of the three sages whose obeisance encompasses all the riches of the world is one of the most compelling of our tradition's icons.

This season, and the event we celebrate today -- the Epiphany -- draw our attention to the offertory of the Magi. We focus upon what they have brought, and are fascinated by that impulsive curiosity that has brought them to their bringing. Just as they were drawn by the light of the mysterious star, so we follow the gleam of their shining gifts and polished characters, whose sheen is set against the foil of that earthy stable in the darkened streets of Bethlehem. So captivating is the aesthetic of that image that it defies the historical reality revealed of the scriptures: the reality that this event, if it transpired at all, was a thing apart -- perhaps as much as three years apart from the birth of the baby.

Today we have a great opportunity, not just to keep our ecclesiastical kettle from boiling over, but to preserve the world anew, and to teach the mystery of charity to a world hungry for love but steeped in self-interest. Our world has forgotten Sirach's wisdom, that true friendship is beyond price and cannot be bought or sold in the marketplace.

And I firmly believe that gays and lesbians -- whether they have legalized their domestic partnerships, had their unions blessed, or gone off to Canada to get married -- can be teachers in this new school of charity for the church and the world, to offer a teaching as powerful as what the monastery taught in the days of Aelred.

The sermon

Usually on Christmas,
We're terrible at purchasing gifts for each other.
Chia pets, just aren't that amusing
after the third year you receive them.
Donnie and marie records.
The too-tight sweater
(must I lose a few more pounds?),
or a scarf that isn't in season.

We tend to pay more for gifts,
than the receiver would spend on the same object.
And we get gifts that make us pause, wondering
does the person really know me?

Not that we want to be ingrates;
but it is easy to wonder what people really think about you
when you get your third idiot's guide book.

You know that they care,
but they paid too much for it.

So we buy gift cards
They are efficient and effective.

You might feel a bit guilty when you get a gift you don't appreciate.
You'll never tell them what you think.
You might keep their gift in the same wrapper.
Give it another year to someone else who can appreciate it more.

Sometimes its simple gifts that are enough.
Film and batteries were what my father wanted;
good tea for my mother.
Some gifts you can't go wrong - photo frames, perhaps.

A pashmina scarf will be worn as long as the design isn't to ostentatious.
Gloves -well we all lose gloves, so gloves are useful.

Consumable gifts - great. A little pleasure in one's life,
like some coffee or wine you wouldn't necessarily buy for yourself.

But gifts are an art.

Gifts, we know, please us. They create attachments,
help us strengthen our relationships between one another
with a peaceful economy.

Giving is an easy pleasure.

Giving is an implicit praise.

Sermon for Christmas Eve

One hundred years ago, on an early Christmas morn
The era of instancy was in this way born
the first radio signal was heard, a solo violin
a new medium to relay and send our human signs.

Across the cold north sea a few travellers
heard "O Holy Night" pipe from the cosmic ether
a hymn and a reading to offer some solace and hope
A sweet sound from a distant record player.

The message was static: an AM radio wave:
the fuzzy monochromatic scratchy kind,
But within the white noise our aloneness was staved
by a calm voice that was sweet and mild.

But our own age is marked
by the cacophanous sounds,
of attention-seeking homonoculi
seeking to make our minds bound;

We send many messages, a metallic chatter,
about diets and podcasts, cancer and stars
myspace and lonelygirl, eight cylinder cars
But does Kevin Federline's album really matter?

When we send these signals into the future,
or to some alien planet with life like our own,
will they wonder about Nicole Richie or Orlando Bloom,
Inquire about about America's next top model.

Or If someone was listening
to our conversations across the spectrum,
They'd think the devil or savior was Lindsey Lohan,
George Bush, or Osama Bin Laden.

They'd hear the reports of suffering and pain,
the victims cry, of disasters, tsunamis and hurricanes,
about sex and starvation, weight loss and worry
think we are drunk, or alone, and that war is far too easy

But there is a radio signal,
a living song for us to hear
a promise sent from ages past,
a whisper that says "don't fear.

"There are no ghosts or monsters,
No powers that can chain,
rob your hope and freedom,
even your destiny has been renamed."

By a single sound of hope,
an aural beacon within the noise;
that would burn and char our despair
transform our emptiness into joy.

So within that static and confusion
that penetrates our ears
This message through the ages
is passed from year to year

That for believers, the sinners and the true
all things are possible, all necessary things, for me and you;

Within the darkest nights of the heart,
the hidden valleys of the soul,
a light in the corner of the world,
gets lit to make our hearts full.

It says, you don't need Paris Hilton,
to occupy and distract your mind;
or the toys we buy and break,
to waste away the time;

If we faced our fears and depths,
the losses and wins we've forgotten
we'd find our bodies strengthen,
with this radio signal from before;

A radio message, a beacon, that has gone through all time
which we trace to a signal way back to Palestine:
A voice in the wilderness, saying "the lived life - your life - is dear
though your world might be ending; be still; never fear

The tribes of the world will sing his holy name,
of faith, hope and love, and liberty from shame.
With his birth, his flesh and his blood, our Lord's break into time,
a history that makes all history, enchanted and sublime.

But I am still sorting through the din
and static of the world,
its promises and luxuries,
its temptations perpetually unfurled.

The song of the story,
returns me to this ground
to make me humble and generous,
though I still like to party around town.

White Plains, that is.

It says, I am loved, and therefore I am,
He came, and now I am free.
There is a future though it is dim,
but the light is just enough so that I will see.

That my spirit and body, weak and frail,
will be strong and right.
With the sound of sacred comfort
that now pierces through this night.

In today's reading we have two different contexts, juxtaposed:

In the fifteenth year of the reign of Emperor Tiberius, when Pontius Pilate was governor of Judea, and Herod was ruler of Galilee, and his brother Philip ruler of the region of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanias ruler of Abilene, during the high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas,

Here are the powers; the people who create contexts, the ones who will be the eventual victors; the ones who will write the histories, who will be written down.

And then

the word of God came to John son of Zechariah in the wilderness.

On one hand, empire. On the other, the wilderness. John is a son, the son of a prophet, a human being, and a man. The powers, however, pretend to be divine.

In this context, John, a mere man, proclaims a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins, a cleansing, a purifying, an opening, transformation - of repentance, a turning, a changing of the mind, a redirection of the heart, a movement of the soul, For the forgiveness of sins.

Why forgiveness of sins? What are these sins? Does "sin" make much sense to us?

Why do we avoid this short, three letter word? After all, do individuals really do wrong to others with such cosmic consequences? Or do they do things wrong because of poor self-esteem, a deprivation of love in one's past?

I hear, often, that people are good. We describe ourselves, "I am a good person. And that's all I need. To be a good person." It's the end of story, while that same person ignores the misery around them, preferring the personal platitudes of self-righteousness, one's ability to buy the right gifts for another person's wedding, and ability to pay for a round at the bar rather than admitting one's collusion in the inattentiveness around them.

There is no sin in this world, it seems.

Since there is no sin, there is little need for forgiveness.

Greetings friends.

You know, we do this every Sunday. ;)

Have you wrapped your gifts? Gotten everything for everyone? Every year I suggest to use the entire 12 days of Christmas to offer gifts, rather than participate in the cultural rush and madness that makes the entire season seem like a blur. I give you permission to give gifts until January 6th.

I make this offer every year.

Many people are purchasing gift cards and certificates, more and more. Perhaps we should just get ourselves gifts and have a show and tell on Christmas morning. "Hey honey, this is what I bought myself."

"With your money. Thank you."

That would be much easier. :)

I am glad you all are here. Some of you are friends, family and many of you are strangers.

And both are wonderful.

I love having strangers here. You see us, after all, when we're decked out.
We've got a nice little creche here, which we actually don't have all the time.
The place smells of Christmas trees, or at least Christmas tree chemicals.
We've got lots of candles, and for some, religion is really about candles, lots of them.
So you who aren't here all that often, we're now at our best.
That's why I love strangers. You can be at your best with them.

Friends and families don't always see us at our best.
Families don't think we're brilliant, or wonderful, always.
We're our parent's kids, and this never really changes.
Our relatives remember all the mistakes we make, and have made and can predict the ones we will.
Our brothers and sisters know how to tease us and make us feel just a little bit worse, and you can't fool them when you've got a new suit or fragrance on, because they know who you are, and that a new suit won't hide those extra pounds.

Friends enjoy, even a bit secretly, when we are humiliated and fail.
Our friends know the skeletons we have in our closet; they are aware of the secrets we really shouldn't have told them, except, fortunately, we have a few on them also.

But strangers, strangers are great!
You can tell a stranger what a great job you have;
what your dreams are; you can exaggerate a little;
You can be a little more charming and lovely.

Strangers don't want us to get hurt, and stifle the laughs that friends utter when we trip, or walk into the wall.

During the transit strike, strangers would share cabs. And they would tell stories;
they talked about what kind of houses they wanted to purchase; how they hated their boss; what kinds of vacations they could take. But your friends don't want to hear about your house; they have bosses they hate themselves. And you might take vacations with your friends. You friends might get bored of you. They just might. You might get bored of your friends. But strangers, they're great. You talk, and then they disappear.

Or they become, sadly, friends. :)

Although there is much talk of God as friend, and that's true -- it is a wonderful thing to be a "friend of God," and that is surely Christianity 101.

But there is an aspect of God being that stranger we connect with -- immediately, if for no other reason we can't get anywhere without having to be sequestered with him.

Mary and Joseph themselves were strangers to each other. Mary unsure of what this marriage would bring, Joseph himself unsure about this young woman with child. And lo, a stranger appeared before them -- a child.

A child is a lot like a stranger who you learn to love, pretty much immediately. You don't know them that well when they are born, but you want to tell them everything. They are babies of course so they don't understand, but you know that their story will become your story; that their life will make your life.

Of course, not every child is beautiful to everyone. So when someone says, "I love children" watch out, because they haven't met the one terror who lives across the street and throws rocks at my window. Distrust general statements.

But that particular child, that terror, is beautiful to someone. The love is not general, but specific, for who needs a generic love? God's love is particular, it's unique to us, if only because our time and history, the space we inhabit, the bodies we have, are ours, are the locations we live, in its darkness, cold wildness and strangeness.

This story describes love in stark terms. It is not an easy love, and it's not romantic. It's a love in a barn a very real love with real persons, struggling persons, earthy persons, not Nick and Jessica -- an unreal spectacle for all of us to consume.

This story asks us, "who do you love? And what are you afraid of?" For when we're unsure about if our lives have a purpose, or direction, this story tells us to ask those two questions. Our friends and family, we love, of course, and we can't always name what we fear. Sometimes our fears are vague -- is it death itself? The powers of the state? Losing what little you already have?

The truth is that how we live relies in the hands of strangers around us, of a strange God, of a strange child.

It could not be any child. We say the beauty and dignity of that particular child; this child means something to us; this person; that person; that person who I have named; who cared for me when I was sick; who made me laugh when I was sad. Who built my house; who made me safe; who just hung around even though they could have left. It's not just any person; its not just any child. It's this one.

This one in our history.

This one, Jesus Christ, who we remember, this who fulfilled a promise that in the midst of strangers, while we were exiled, homeless, and couldn't rely on our families and friends, the light of love shone in the darkness.

Our faith is not one that says, God is on our side, and only ours. God takes everybody's side. And this is most uncomfortable. He sees the posturing we make as strangers, and says, "sure, why not. I love it. I love it all." He is the stranger who comes to us.

Maybe as strangers, we become our ideal selves. For as strangers we have to practice love from the beginning, making us lovers. Among strangers we practice courage, so we become courageous. In this same way God became human, so that we might become humane.

The story says, pay attention, here,

And we might then pay attention to His presence there, out there, wherever, somewhere.

So we are amongst strangers, in our own wilderness, wanderers amongst the credulous, the terrified, the weak and lonely.

And yet in the dark, in the distance, in the past, there is a light, beckoning us, urging us, drawing us forward, we can see it far far away, dimly, but that light, leads us towards a place, a new home, a table made for us in the wilderness, love and friendship among strangers.

Maybe this stranger will tell us, that we also are powerful; that we too have seen a great light; that we are not so small that we don't matter; that we are meant to shine, that we are made to manifest his Glory.

For as God's light has shone, our own light shines; and as the light shines greater; then, perhaps, others will also.

This is what the child offers -- love and friendship among strangers;
peace and good will towards men; a light shining in the darkness
a rose blooming in the wilderness.

The heart of God, beating in a person God has given us.

The light of a stranger, eternally familiar.
In the name of the one holy triune God, AMEN. ALLELUIA.

Then Jesus said to the crowds and to his disciples,

2‘The scribes and the Pharisees sit on Moses’ seat; 3therefore, do whatever they teach you and follow it; but do not do as they do, for they do not practice what they teach. 4They tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on the shoulders of others; but they themselves are unwilling to lift a finger to move them. They do all their deeds to be seen by others; for they make their phylacteries broad and their fringes long. They love to have the place of honor at banquets and the best seats in the synagogues, and to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, and to have people call them rabbi. But you are not to be called rabbi, for you have one teacher, and you are all students. And call no one your father on earth, for you have one Father--the one in heaven. Nor are you to be called instructors, for you have one instructor, the Messiah. The greatest among you will be your servant. All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted.

When I was learning how to pray, my priest warned me that, for all my prayers, there was no substitute for activity. Prayers work, to be sure, and there are some times we can’t do much else. But to pray when someone is suffering right before you would be irresponsible.

Let’s review Jesus’ critique.

First, who are the teachers? Is Jesus the only teacher? Or is he making an oblique statement about who changes our behavior? In some sense, it is only us, in our relationship with God, that allows for teaching. We are the ones who make the shift, the turn, the change into a new kind of behavior.

But we learn this through observing other people. What we learn from others, however, is our own choosing. The Instructor is the messiah, and I suppose that is Jesus.

I suspect in this case, Jesus is speaking of himself in both the future and present tense. Jesus is asking us to follow and imitate him in some sense: But the crucial question is to ask, what sort of person do you imagine yourself becoming? What kind of person do you want to be remembered as?

The Pharisees want to be remembered, surely. They want to be remembered for public deeds; for being public persons. Jesus is not actually condemning the public sphere. He says, in stead, “They tie up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on the shoulders of others; but they themselves are unwilling to lift a finger to move them."

This is a standard critique of the praying person: “why don’t they pray to open up their checkbooks� or “why don’t they get up and do something?’ When someone is sick, we ask if they’ve seen a doctor. When someone is hungry, we ask if they need food.

I imagine the Pharisees telling someone who is sick, instead, to pray harder, for if being sick is the fault of the ill: they clearly aren’t faithful enough.

Let’s be clear about Jesus’ condemnation of the Pharisees: he understands that this is the way the world works. There is status; there is money; there his honor. He’s not avoiding that world. He’s barely condemning it – he’s a Jew, and Pharisees are the faithful Jews of his generation – they are the orthodox, the true believers, the ones who are inheriting the tradition.

But you don’t need it. You have your life; you can have your friends; and everything you need is right before you.

I suppose there is a trivial way to explain this: when I don’t have any foie gras, there’s always beans and rice; when I don’t have my car, I can use my bicycle. What I think I need, I don’t really need at all.

Jesus suggests obeying the Pharisees. This makes sense because Jesus himself is part of that crowd. And perhaps this is why he is so hyperbolic: he’s speaking about his own. We’re often a bit more severe when we’re talking about people within close relations: we use words that are much more universal. This is why he says, “don’t call anyone father," when every Jew knows the commandment: “honor your Father and Mother.�?

In itself, this isn’t a bad thing: people who are more absolute, more hyperbolic and more exuberant seem to engage the world much more fully. We know the world is complicated, but we use hyperbole to break it down into need little boxes, little oppositions, that can be made more complicated when they must.

It’s common for people to want to be recognized. We do things, and we desire attention, and credit. We’re perfectly aware that when we don’t get the credit for our work, then someone else might come along and take it from us. We can’t blame the Pharisees from being on top and wanting to stay there.

Before my father died, I said “thank you" to him. He looked at me a bit quizzically, and responded, “look, Gawain. I like being your father. You don’t need to thank me." Even though I’m glad he was my parent, sometimes the work itself is the gratitude – the power to know that we can provide something that is beautiful to others, something as simple as our attention, our hospitality, our presence, even if we never get verbal affirmation, public honors or social standing.

I also think that Jesus is redirecting us away from needing more than what God desires.

We are creatures, in our affluence, who are always desiring more – and if we can get it easily, all the better. But we continue desiring, and consuming, and consuming and desiring, and consumption helps for a while – it offers us a temporary respite from feeling lost by having something that is fun.

But like children who break toys within the first couple days, our we have a limited attention span regarding our own toys. New cars only seem new for about two years – then we’re programmed to want one that’s different. In the end, we’re on this cycle that’s just extremely hard to get off, and Jesus says, “we don’t need it."

Jesus is saying, all we need is right in front of us. If we can get social standing, honor, pride, wealth, well, that’s OK. But that’s not the reason we do things – we’re like athletes who play because we like the nature of the game, the movement of our physical bodies, the collaboration of the team, the feeling of playing well, rather than merely winning – although winning’s OK.

We're like musicians who play not for public gratitude, not for cheers and standing ovations - although who can turn those down – but we play because we love the music and the feeling the music brings, and the music we need is right here in front of us, the music that we are singing right now, here, for each other.