Sermon 616+April 18, 2010

Sermon 616
3 Easter
April 18, 2010
730th Week as Priest
556th Week at St. Dunstan’s
191st Week at St. Matthew’s in-the-Pines

Discovering Our Confidence.

Grace to you, and peace, from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

I want to concentrate on the last few verses of the Gospel Lesson for this Third Sunday of Easter. I have asked you over the last several weeks to place yourself among the followers of Our Lord. Not on the margin, not at the edge of attention, but among the Disciples themselves, those who will become known in a short period of time as the Apostles of the Lord. It has never been easy to follow Christ, and it has never been more difficult than it has been the last several weeks.

During Holy Week.

During Holy Week, we found ourselves in a state of terrible uncertainty and great insecurity. When the Master transformed the bread and cup of Passover into his Body and Blood, we were shocked in disbelief and we were stunned into silence. He was already leaving us, we knew, and we knew nothing about what the future would bring. Only that we were left afraid and in grave danger.

We followed him to Gethsemane after the Seder, and there we waited (and I confess, we escaped into sleep) in the long and agonizing hours of the early morning while our Lord prayed. Then the Roman soldiers came with the priests and scribes and arrested Jesus.

Now I confess more: We ran away. We betrayed him and abandoned him. We were cowards, all of us, and I am filled with shame and self-loathing to admit it.

You know what came next. The Master was arrested, beaten, spat upon, stripped and whipped. Only the women stayed nearby. We fled to the Upper Room for fear of the Jews, for fear of our lives.

When he was crucified at the Place of the Skull, only the three women—his Mother Mary, Mary Magdelene, and Mary the wife of Cleopus were there. Oh, and John Mark, he may have witnessed the suffering and death as well.

We heard the details on Saturday, and we knew that our three-year journey had ended. We thought he was the One to redeem Israel, the Messiah. But he was just a dead man, and we were merely the beneficiaries of a dead man’s empty estate. I have never known such profound disappointment, such a complete defeat of body and soul.

During Easter Week.

On the first day of the week, what would become known in years hence as “Easter Sunday,” we were given a confused report from the same women who said they had visited the tomb of Jesus and he was not there. “He has been raised,” they said, but we did not believe it. I supposed the Romans or the Sanhedrin would not leave him in peace, that they had spirited away the broken body.

Magdalene was the first to say that she had seen him risen. Preposterous, I thought. I was embarrassed by her claim, and we all ridiculed her. Then Simon Peter saw him. Then two on the road to Emmaus. And then at the seashore on Friday. Then last Sunday morning, he appeared to us in the Upper Room. It was he, and I am not lying. I told my twin brother, Thomas, but he would not believe it. Almost a week later, he came again, and we touched his hand and his feet.

It was he, Jesus, raised from the dead! I am telling the truth. This time, Thomas saw him as well. “My Lord and my God!” he cried.

And Now He Comes Again.

And now he has come again. You just heard the story. When we had finished breakfast, the Lord said to Cephas, “Simon son of John, do you love me more than these?”

He replied, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my lambs.”

A second time he said to him, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” Cephas said, “Yes, Lord; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Tend my sheep.”

He said to him the third time, “Simon son of John, do you love me?” Peter was hurt and he said to him, “Lord, you know everything; you know that I love you.” Jesus said to him, “Feed my sheep.

Being there was difficult and awkward, but I believe that I am beginning to understand the “why” of it and not just the “what.” Our Lord was forgiving Cephas for his thrice betrayal, and he made the point to ask and to affirm him three times. “Do you love me? Do you love me? Do you really love me?” The Master was forgiving Simon Peter, and he was forgiving us all, for all we had done and left undone. It was another chance, a starting over, a new life beginning.

In this way, the Master was constantly surprising us, saying and doing the unexpected. This was his way, even as Risen Lord. He said to Cephas, “Very truly, I tell you, when you were a young man, you used to fasten your own belt and to go wherever you wished. You were free.” We all remembered those carefree days, before he called us to follow him. We were fishermen, tradesmen, living without a thought of what the future would bring.

Then the Master said, “But when you grow old, you will stretch out your hands, and someone else will fasten a belt around you and take you where you do not wish to go.” Looking back, I think he said this to indicate the kind of death by which Cephas would glorify God. He was preparing us all for the cost of discipleship.  After this he said to us, “Follow me.”

I believe that God is truly doing a new thing among us, and it is happening now. Jesus is the Messiah, and he truly is risen. We are finding our confidence. We are discovering our ministry. We know that the Risen One will be with us for only a little longer, and then he will ascend to the right hand of the Father. But we are finding our courage. We are beginning to live “in Christ.” We are beginning to understand that there is much work to be done, and we are the ones who will do it.

Now we all believe that Christ is risen. The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!

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Sermon 606+November 8, 2009

Sermon 606

23 Pentecost at St. Dunstan’s

Holy Baptism of Sophie Elizabeth Mancil

November 8, 2009

 Loyalty, Trust, and Faithfulness.

Peace be to this place, and to all who dwell in it. Amen.

Sophie’s Baptism.

Sophie’s Baptism has had me thinking a lot about the roles and relationships we have, as parents and children, as godparents and grandparents, as a family, and as a church family. 

Nobody who gets married really knows what that marriage is going to be like. No one can see that clearly into the future, and no one knows all that lies ahead—of success and failure, of prosperity and adversity, of sickness and health. To be married is an act of faith. And to be a married person is to be a person of courage and faith. 

And to have a successful marriage requires faithfulness on the part of both husband and wife. Faith is different from righteousness. Abraham was a man of tremendous faith, but he was by no means a perfect man. He was flawed and broken. He was at times dishonest and deceitful. But his faith was reckoned as righteousness by God. God considers our faith—and our faithfulness—in the same way.

You may think you are not a person of faith. You are filled with doubt and insecurity and uncertainty. Well, welcome to the crowd. Jesus was asked to heal a boy with epilepsy. His father was distraught. “If you can do anything, take pity on us and help us.” ” ‘If you can’?” replied Jesus. “Everything is possible for him who believes.” The boy’s father exclaimed, “I do believe; help me overcome my unbelief!” 

I believe. Help my unbelief. I want to be a person of faith, and a faithful person, but I don’t know how, and I don’t know if I can. I have been told that if you want to become a person of faith, consider what things a faithful person would do, and then do them. Keep on doing them, and you will become a person of faith. 

Having a child is another act of faith. The estimated cost of raising one child in the United States from birth to age 18 is now somewhere between $150,000 and $250,000. But it takes a lot more than money. Yes, it takes faith, and plenty of it. But it also takes trust. Trust in each other, and trust in schools, neighborhoods, your church, your friends, your future, your ability to earn a living to pay for that child’s raising. The American poet Carl Sandburg said that the birth of a child is God’s opinion that the world should go on. 

Those can be some of the most important words a parent ever hears, especially when they’re buying diapers for the first time. Or spending money for Christmas. Or buying books for school. Or saving for college. I’ve often marveled at how my parents were able to feed, clothe, transport, educate, and provide health care for six boys on an Auburn professor’s salary. Just buying blue jeans and car insurance was a monumental achievement. 

The challenges of being a family—a healthy, functional, happy American family in the 21^st Century—are simply enormous. I’ve considered all of the qualities and characteristics of a healthy family—at least those I could identify over the past few days—and I’ve come to these conclusions: Yes, faith and faithfulness are top of the list. But so is trust. And just as important is loyalty. Loyalty to each other and to your family as a whole. Loyalty to the values you share and the common experiences you value. A healthy family is one that says, “At Christmas, we always …” and “Every summer, we go …” and “My mother would always …” or “My father would always take us to …” 

We live in a different time from our parents and grandparents. Marriages seldom last fifty years. People don’t work for the same company for thirty or forty years any more. Families seldom eat a meal together, seated at the dining room table, with no television and no video games. It’s very common for me to ask a young couple getting married about their grandparents and great-grandparents. What were their names? Where did they live, and what were they like? Did they have a happy marriage, and did they leave behind photographs or letters that you have read? Usually they know very little about the generations who came before. Sadly, the result is that they have little information about who they are and where they came from. 

Bishop Parsley uses a phrase to describe this loyalty shown among families. He calls it “the bonds of affection.” Our love for each other binds us together. It’s true of families, and it’s also true in churches. 

Last week someone said, “I love this church! There is such energy and affection here.” I can’t tell you the number of times I’ve received e-mails and cards, letters and phone calls from students, friends, and visitors who express their joy and their pleasure to be a part of St. Dunstan’s. And that’s not unusual, I think. There are many Christian communities, many churches, where the love of Jesus Christ, and the fellowship of the faithful, are real and authentic and genuine. 

For me, and I think for you as well, St. Dunstan’s is this kind of holy and wonderful place because it is healthy and welcoming to friends and strangers alike. “All are welcome,” we say, and we mean it. “All are welcome!” St. Dunstan’s is a place of Anglican worship and Bible study and Christian community. It is not a perfect place, but it is a place of faith, and faithfulness, of trust, and of loyalty. St. Dunstan’s is committed deeply to both Word and Sacrament. St. Dunstan’s is small, only a couple of hundred students and friends, but our numbers are far less important than our faith, trust, and loyalty for each other and for Jesus of Nazareth. 

We have nothing to prove and nothing to boast about here. We are not a wealthy church, living basically hand-to-mouth off the generosity of the Diocese of Alabama, a handful of local parish churches, and your generosity and cheerful giving. We have a building that leaks in a half-dozen places and a staff that is 80 percent volunteers. We are a worshipping community, with absolutely no aspirations of becoming a parish church. And yet we are blessed beyond all we can ask for or imagine. Our life together is abundant and vibrant, and our worship is filled with joy and celebration. Our mission and ministry are both clear and purposeful: we are here to serve the Auburn University community, its students and faculty, friends and families who share our passion for the Gospel and our disinterest in status or recognition or worldly fame. 

If I boast, I boast only of our love for God and each other. And as my father always said, “Nothing else counts more than a hill of beans.”

We are here for the most important of work: to recognize that each human being is of infinite importance to our Lord; to give thanks and praise for our blessings, our relationships, and our future together; and to celebrate the Sacraments of our beloved Episcopal Church—and especially this holy night, to celebrate the Baptism of Sophie Elizabeth Mancil. Thanks be to God. Amen.

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