Sermons

We were grateful to have welcomed Keisha Krumm, Executive Director of Greater Cleveland Congregations (GCC), to the pulpit. Keisha has an MDiv in Christian Community Development from Mennonite Brethren Biblical Seminary. Watch her sermon on our website.

On this day, we mark the feast of our patron, St. Paul. On
the Church’s calendar, our patronal feast falls on the 25th of January, but the
prayer book allows for a patronal feast of a parish to be moved to a Sunday so
that it can be celebrated in a more robust way. We are doing that today in this
combined service, and I am so happy to see the nave so full. What a way to
celebrate St. Paul and this parish named for him that we love so much and are
blessed to be a part of!

After Jesus, Paul might just be the most well-known person
in Scripture. Indeed, Paul claims more writings in the New Testament than any
other author. We would be hard-pressed to find someone who had as much of an
influence on the spread of our faith as Paul did. So, I thought it might be
good- if you’ll indulge me- to mark this feast of our patron St. Paul by going
through a top five of his most well-known words.

Our first stop on this top five list of comes from his
second letter to the Church in Corinth. Paul writes that “we walk by faith, and
not by sight.” I find this phrase an interesting one, for it was in Paul’s own
conversion experience that he actually lost his eyesight. In today’s text from
Acts, we hear Paul’s call story, but with a few details left out. In a more
full account of the call story in the ninth chapter of Acts, we learn that Paul
was without sight for the first three days after God stopped him in his tracks
and called him to preach and teach the good news of Christ. Paul learned in all
of his trials, on days when things did not make sense, on days when he could
not see any further than to take just one step forward, Paul knew to see with
his spiritual eyes, to trust in God’s grace and love to get him through. And we
know that, too. On the dark days, in the dark nights of our souls when it may
be hard to see or feel God’s presence, to see God with us and in us through the
eyes of faith.

The second well-known verse I want us to look at is in the
first letter to the Thessalonians, fifth chapter. “Give thanks in all
circumstances, for it is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.” And this
wasn’t the only time Paul encouraged us to give thanks. Paul admonishes the
early Church to give thanks, to live in a state of gratitude, more than 35
times. Paul knew the power of gratitude. Paul lived a hard life and was even
imprisoned at times for preaching the Gospel, but he knew the power of offering thanks
to break chains - literally break his own chains while imprisoned - and set him
free from his circumstances. And we as St. Paul’s Church follow our patron’s
call to gratitude by gathering here, week in and week out, to offer thanks to
God as a community for God’s work in our midst, on the good days and the bad
days. And that gratitude changes us. It makes us able to do God’s work in the
world.

Our next stop on our journey through Pauline wisdom is in
the fifth chapter of Romans. Paul says here that “Hope does not disappoint us,
because God’s love has been poured into our hearts through the Holy Spirit that
has been given to us. If Paul had a firm grasp on gratitude, he had an even
firmer grasp on hope. Paul mentions the word hope over fifty times. And hope
was central to the message of Jesus, too. Though it’s not mentioned by word in
today’s Gospel reading, the overall theme is indeed hope. Jesus is telling his
disciples that accepting to follow him is sometimes going to be tough. He says
he is sending them out like sheep into the midst of wolves. I love how Jesus
does not mince words here. He cuts straight to the chase and says that this
work is going to be hard. You will be judged, and perhaps even imprisoned. BUT.
When you worry about what to say, what to do, don’t worry. Don’t fear. Your
hope is in God, who will give you the words to say, give you the strength to
carry on. Your hope is in God, and that can’t be taken away from you.

Our fourth stop on our journey is found in Paul’s letter to
the Church in Galatia. Paul writes, “As many of you as were baptized into
Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ. There is no longer Jew or Greek;
there is no longer slave or free; there is no longer male and female, for all
of you are one in Christ Jesus.” In this well-known passage, Paul is pointing
to perhaps the best news in the Good News of Jesus: that we are all one. In
Christ, all division cease, walls that divide us are torn down. We participate
in this reality every week in this space when we come to this altar, to receive
from one bread and one cup. In that one bread, in that one cup, we are all made
one in Christ Jesus. We don’t always get it right. We do fail. And that is
precisely why we return week after week to be fed and reminded again and again
that in Christ, we are all one.

Finally, in this list of Paul’s greatest writings, his
greatest must be, without a doubt, his treatment of love. In his first letter
to the Church in Corinth, he writes, “[Love] bears all things, believes all
things, hopes all things, endures all things.” Love endures all things. At the
end of the world, love is what will be left standing. In all our own trials,
love is what will get us through. When we are confused and tired and don’t know
which way is up, love will point the way. In grief and loss and hardship, love
is there to comfort and bless. In the depths of the worst that life can give
us, love whispers hope. Even in the grave, love gives us voice to make our song
alleluia, alleluia, alleluia. At the end of the age, love wins.

Now, I know Paul can be controversial. Paul lived in a time
and place very different from our own, and some of his writings reflect that.
And we are also lucky to be named for this saint who wrote and taught about
seeing through the eyes of faith, offering thanks to God in all things,
clinging to hope, seeing all as our equal, and loving above all else.

A patronal feast can be a time for a parish to take stock of
what has been in the last year and plan for what is to come. I encourage us to
do that work today: to ground all we do in this new year in faith, gratitude,
hope, equality, and love. Thanks be to God for the witness of St. Paul, and
thanks be to God for all of you in this place. Amen.

The people along the sand

All turn and look one way.

They turn their back on the land.

They look at the sea all day.

The land may vary more;
But wherever the truth may be--
The water comes ashore,
And the people look at the sea.

What is it about water? This poem by Robert Frost (Neither Out Far Nor In Deep) rings so
true. There is something mesmerizing about water. How many of us have sat on a
shore and gazed out on a lake, or ocean, or sea? Water is calming in the
repetition of the tide; it is captivating during a storm; it imbues peace in
its glassy stillness. Perhaps we are drawn in by the depths because water is so
integral to life and points us to the vastness beyond our selves. Our gaze taps
into our desire to be one with our Creator. “In him we live and move and have
our being” (Acts 17:28).

Today, we are baptizing five young people: at 9, Poppy
Garg, Rosemary Garg, Danica Mersek and Miles Mersek; at 11:15, Walker Mead. We are
welcoming them into the body of Christ, into the community of Christ. We
baptize with water. In the time of John the Baptist, washing with water was
performed ritually as an outward sign of cleansing the inward self. John the
Baptist pathed the way to a more profound baptism when he proclaimed the coming
of Jesus Christ: “The one who is more powerful than I is coming after me. I
have baptized you with water; but he will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.” After
Jesus’ death and resurrection, Christians adopted Baptism as a way of
incorporating new Christians into the Church. Holy Baptism is full initiation
by water and the Holy Spirit into Christ’s body, the Church.

The film Water, is
part of a trilogy of films, Fire, Earth, and Water, by
acclaimed screenwriter and director, Deepa Mehta. Water is set in India
in the 1930s. The film is based on a custom, drawn from a patriarchal reading
of the Hindu Gospel, of separating women from their families upon the death of
their husbands. Water is the story of
Chuyia, a seven-year-old girl whose husband dies – yes, a seven-year-old girl -
and she is sent to live out her life in poverty among strangers in a widow’s
colony. This film, at times challenging to watch, is an achingly beautiful love
story.

But, at its heart, it is a story about water, and worth a
watch to resonate with the power of this theological reality. The widow’s
colony is located on the river, Ganga. The river is central to the lives of the
widows’ and to the lives of the people in the surrounding village. The film
opens with a person who is frail being helped to drink water. We see people
bathing in the water and being refreshed by the water. We see the water being
used to grow food and vegetation, for cooking and for cleaning clothes. We see the
water being used for transportation and for recreation. And, we see the other
side of water. We see rain pouring down during a storm, a source of death and
destruction. We see bodies being prepared for Hindu burial in the water. In
this film, a life is saved. The weaving of the plot, of love and death and new
life, with the images of water impresses upon us the great power that water
holds over our lives; impresses upon us the theological significance of death
into life through water.

Today, our brief passage from Genesis gives us just enough
of the Creation story to enlighten the Gospel message. “In the beginning, the
earth was a formless void. God said, ‘Let there be light.’ God separated the
light from the darkness. God called the light Day, and the darkness he called
Night.” God took the formless void and brought order out of chaos. We have
Night and we have Day. Just as God delivered the cosmos from chaos, God
delivered the Israelites from the wilderness. They had wandered for forty
years. But, after Moses death, God directed Joshua to lead them into the
Promised Land. From chaos to order, from anguish to hope, from death to life,
the Israelites left the wilderness and entered the Promised Land. And, how did
they cross over? Through water, through the River Jordan. A millennium or two
later, Jesus made a point. “In those days Jesus came from Nazareth of Galilee
and was baptized by John in the Jordan.” Through Baptism, with water, a
compound so integral to life and death, we die to ourselves and rise to new
life in Christ.

Let’s not forget the Holy Spirit! “Just as Jesus was coming
up out of the water, he saw the heavens torn apart and the Spirit descending
like a dove on him. And a voice came from heaven, ‘You are my Son, the Beloved;
with you I am well pleased.” After Baptism in water, we seal with Chrism - scented
oil previously consecrated by the Diocesan Bishop - we seal by making the sign
of the cross on the child’s forehead. Anointing is the promise of the Holy
Spirit, who nurtures and inspires our lives. This promise is no small matter. We
are being empowered to accomplish the work of Christ, to love our neighbor as
ourselves. We are being empowered to transform the world one day at a time, one
interaction at a time, respecting the dignity of every human being. In the
Gospel of John (16:13), Jesus says, “When the Spirit of truth comes, he will
guide you into all the truth.” In Acts 1 (vs. 8), Jesus tells the apostles,
“You will receive power when the Holy Spirit has come upon you; and you will be
my witnesses … to the ends of the earth.” In 1 Corinthians 12 (vs. 7), Paul
tells us, “To each is given the manifestation of the Spirit for the common
good.” For the common good. Through Baptism, dying to selfish ways and rising
to new life, we are brought into union with Christ, with each other and with
the Church of every time and place. Recognizing our faith as a life-long
journey, we enter into a bond of unity to love one another, to overcome all
divisions, offering different gifts, skills and perspectives for the common
good. Today, we reaffirm our baptismal vows acknowledging with joy and
gratitude that we belong to God, that Jesus lived among us so that we would
know God in our lives, and that Jesus showed us how to live with one another in
God’s love. What is it about water? Belonging…possibility…new life….

The water comes ashore,

And the people look at the sea.

In
the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. Word.
Speech. It’s the way we know each other- the way I know you, and you know me:
by the words that we use to speak, to describe things and places and thoughts.
The Word, that way we know God (God’s things, and places, and thoughts): The
Word was with God. Hidden from us- God, Source of all being- we did not yet
know.

He was in the beginning with God. And has been with
God since the very beginning, since before time and space, since before things
and places and thoughts. Before all things came to be, before the first tick of
a clock, before the first sunrise, before the first day or month or year, God
was, and the Word was, right there with God. In the dark void, the Source of Life
was.

All things came into being through him, and without him
not one thing came into being. And the Source of life, breathed over the
dark void, and out of the darkness was born life and breath; sun, moon, and
stars; sunrises and sunsets; and days and months and years. Time itself was
born from the Source of Life, from divine creation.

What has come into being in him was life, and the life
was the light of all people. And for the first time, the Source of Life had
breath and form, lungs and eyes, leaves and roots, gills and scales, skin and
hair. This life that burst forth was full of so much power and came from a
Source so far beyond our knowing. It was light and love. And light and love
literally lit up the sky and lit up all things that God had made.

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did
not overcome it. The dark void does not get the last word. Light speaks to
our fear of the dark, the unknown- that primal fear we first got to know as a
child. It is touched by the warm light of God and is met by the Word who looks
into the eye of the dark storm and speaks the words: “Peace be still. Do not be
afraid.”

There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. God
did not send a king or a governor or a high priest. God sent an average man
named John, a man who had grasped the life changing love of God and wanted to
share that love with all those who came to him. This man named John pointed to
the Word as someone greater than himself, pointed to the Lamb that would take
away the sins of the world.

He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all
might believe through him. John knew he wasn’t the Light. But he had been
called by God to point the world to the light, to the Word- the Word who came
from God and was God. He did this so that all might experience the power of
love to turn a heart of stone into a heart of flesh, to raise up what had been
cast down, to make new that which had grown old.

He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to
the Light. And here is perhaps the best news of Christmas: We are not the Light.
We are made of the Light, but we don’t have to be the Light. We don’t have to
be the Source. Only God is that. We participate in the light, and we point
others, like John did, to the light. We sometimes fail, and God’s love and
light is not overcome by our failures. Our work is simply to show the Light to
the world.

The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming
into the world. Was coming. Not came. Not comes. But was coming. Movement.
Motion. God was on the move. God’s love was breaking through all the walls and
defenses and barriers and self-doubt we put up to keep God’s love from changing
us, transforming us. God’s love does not rest. It pursues, it heals. It comes
to us week after week in bread and wine, and it comes to us in this season in
the heartbeat of the Christ-child.

He was in the world, and the world came into being through
him; yet the world did not know him. He came to what was his own, and his own
people did not accept him. And how could we? The hymn says our hearts were
tuned toward strife and so we refused Love’s overture. In Christ, God invited
us into the holy dance of love. And yet, we were terrified of love so pure,
love so sweet. We were made for love and by love, and yet we refused to dance.

But to all who received him, who believed in his name, he
gave power to become children of God. But! This word but, this is the
Word. In Christ, God says, “But wait! There’s more!” In Christmas, our hearts
can be tuned to sing God’s grace. If we sit in the darkness, in the silence,
God in the Christ-child comes to us, bends down, and whispers in our ears: You
are my child. You are loved forever and ever.

And the Word became flesh and lived among us. God’s
speech, the way we know God, became words spoken by THE Word. In Christ, God took
on flesh and skin and hair and teeth and feet and hands. And with all of that
flesh, healed the world. The Word lived with us. An old source says God leapt
from his throne to become one of us. God ran to us. God ran to be one of us.
God lived among us, and God still lives among us.

And we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father's
only son. Having seen God in the Christ-child and tasted God in bread and
wine, and heard God in the chirp of a bird, and smelled God in the aroma of a
meal shared with friends, and touched God in the soft fur of a pet or the
embrace of a loved one, we know God. In all that we do, God is with us.
Emmanuel.

Full of grace and truth. In Christ, God has filled the
world. God filled all things. In the gaps where we fall short, God’s grace
makes up the difference. In places of darkness, God’s truth speaks light. God’s
very Word is grace and truth. God’s Word, God’s speech- how we know God’s
things and places and thoughts- God’s Word is found in grace and truth. Joy to
the world, the Lord has come, full of grace and truth.

Our National Parks are magnificent. Two of my favorites are
Arches and Bryce Canyon, both in Utah. The stone formations in Arches National
Park are 65 million years in the making. The longest arch has an opening of 300
feet; the tallest arch has an opening of over 100 feet. As you hike up to these
immense stone formations, the views through the arches are stunning. Once you
arrive and walk through the arch, you feel somehow absorbed into the limitless
sky. Bryce Canyon is a whole different geological wonder. The elevation is over
8,000 feet. The stone formations in this park remind me of sandcastles. When I
was young, we often went to the beach for vacation. My sisters and I would go
down to the water’s edge, fill our pails with water and then scoop in some
sand. Perhaps you recall doing the same. You reach into the bucket, pull out a glob
of wet sand, and then let it drip-down onto the dry sand, building up a cone
shape. That’s where my mind goes with these spectacular stone structures in
Bryce Canyon. They are sandcastles in blazing color: orangey-red spires soaring
into the sky.



Many of us feel a connection to the divine in nature. The
most powerful experience I have had, beyond the beauty of Arches and Bryce
Canyon, was in the Grand Canyon of the Yellowstone River in Yellowstone
National Park in Wyoming. The moment I walked up to the rim of the Canyon
overlooking the waterfalls, I was overwhelmed by the expansive beauty. At that
moment, there were no words, only awe for the existence and wonder of our
Creator; a moment when we are keenly aware that the world is just so much
bigger than our individual selves. The majesty of the Divine in nature is
powerful. The intimacy of the Divine in our heartache is lifesaving. Jesus is
our Savior.



Madeline L’Engle, the beloved author, writes in her poem First
Coming
:

“He did not wait till the world was ready, till men and
nations were at peace.


He came when the Heavens were unsteady, and prisoners cried out for release.

He did not wait for the perfect time. He came when the need was deep and great.

He dined with sinners in all their grime, turned water into wine.

He did not wait till hearts were pure. In joy he came to a tarnished world of
sin and doubt.


To a world like ours, of anguished shame he came, and his Light would not go
out.”

Jesus was born into an oppressive society. King Herod the
Great was in power, appointed by Rome to rule Judea, Samaria and Galilee as a
police state. He was a murderer: ruthless and vindictive. In addition, he
imposed burdensome taxes on the people, largely boosting the wealth of the rulers.
Herod’s brutality was a shroud over Jerusalem at the time of Jesus’ birth. Jesus
entered-into our brokenness.



Some of our most intimate experiences with the Divine are in
difficult times. I know this is true for me. Certainly, I experienced some uncertainty
and anxiety as I made a turn from a consulting career to parish ministry. Before
I even realized I was discerning a change, I had a prescient dream directing me
down this new path. In the dream, I was in a storm and trapped in a town where all
the streets were flooded; there was no way out. Yet, I had this sense of
urgency that I needed to find a way out as soon as possible. For three days, I
frantically searched, but all the streets were impassable. Then, on the third
day, seemingly suddenly, I found a way out, one clear road that would take me
out of town, though all the other streets were still flooded. This one way out
was now so obvious – I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t seen it before. Dreams
are an avenue of inspiration from God. Once I made the “aha” connection, Jesus’
presence during this career transition was comforting.



Jesus is with us through uncertainty and anxiety, and Jesus
is with us through loss. I cried through the months leading up to my divorce and
through the months following, and Jesus’ compassion gave me the courage to look
to a new day. Jesus is with us through grief. One year ago, I lost a dear
friend to cancer. My last visit with her one week before her death was both
beautiful and heart-rending. That night, I woke up at 3:30 in the morning and I
was filled with God’s presence and somehow, my friend was there with us. I
experienced perfect Love, perfect Peace. Jesus was born into an oppressive
society, into heartache. He came into our brokenness and lived fully in his
humanness. He gets us; he lived our emotions. He continues to enter-into our
brokenness, with empathy for the human condition. What is your sadness? With
compassion and unceasing love, Jesus enters-into our heartache. He journeys
with us through the healing process; he comforts and gives us the courage to see
a new day.



On the night of Jesus’ birth, an angel of the Lord appeared
to the shepherds in the fields keeping watch over their flock. “The angel said
to them, ‘Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy
for all the people.’” Good news…of great joy…our Savior has come. Jesus
shepherds us through all of life, helping us to endure and thrive. So, we give
thanks, by loving as we are loved. Through our healing, we are able to care for
and enrich the lives of others. Creation is inherently revealing God through
the grandeur of nature and the intimacy of relationships. We are forever
companioned, forever loved…with God’s grace, forever loving. And, so, we come
before the Christ child, in wonder of the Divine Love, and we sing out, “Joy to
the world! The Lord is come.” In her poem
First Coming, Madeleine
L’Engle concludes:

“We cannot wait till the world is sane to raise our
songs with joyful voice,

For to share our grief, to touch our pain, He came with Love: Rejoice! Rejoice!”

“Who are you?” This question that the crowd asks of John the
Baptist in today’s gospel is one that I have asked myself many, many times over
in the last ten or so years as I have discerned a call to ordained ministry. It’s
a question that on some days I have been able to answer with certainty, and
other days the answer has not come with such confidence. You see, I have lived
most of my life with a stutter. I still have it. I’ve done a lot of work on it,
and some days my speech is more fluent while other days my stutter is more
pronounced. There’s more to the story, but just know for now, my stutter has
been a cause for pause. In answering the call to serve God and the Church as a
priest where speaking occupies such a central part, I have tried to answer the
question “Who are you?” with every other option. “God, I can’t possibly do this
work. Let me do anything else!” But when God calls us to something, God pursues
us. And no matter how many times I have answered the question “Who are you?”
with a shaky voice as I have discerned this calling, God has always answered
the question with confidence. “I have called you, and you are mine.”

This idea that God calls people to service who we might least
expect is common. While we don’t know any of John the Baptist’s call story, I
do wonder how John may have responded the first time God called him. “John, I
am calling you to baptize and call people to repentance. This work will prepare
the way for my son who will come into the world, a person who is greater than
you.” I imagine John may have told God “No!” a few times himself, or said “Please
let me do anything else!” After all, John had his life planned out. He would
spend his days eating locust and honey and sew his own clothes made from camel
hair. These days, we might call John “crunchy”. He’d probably be wearing socks
with his Birkenstocks. I wonder how John might have wrestled with God when God
called him to wilderness work.

Whether or not, we know how John initially answered God’s call to baptize
and preach repentance, we know that John did answer the call. And we hear in the
gospel this morning, not John questioning his own call, but the crowd. They ask
him “Who are you?’’ And the real questions behind the question is “Where are
your credentials?” “What gives you the right to baptize and teach and preach
repentance?” “Are you the prophet?” “Are you Elijah?” You see, the priests and
Levites sent to question John did not expect someone like him to be performing
rites of purification and teaching. These were jobs left usually to Temple
professionals like themselves. John’s type was the last kind of person they
expected to be doing the holy and important work of God.

And John answers them, “I am not the prophet. I baptize with
water, but the one coming after me, (who John already knew to be the Christ),
is someone you won’t recognize either. If we go back a few verses in John from
the ones we heard in our Gospel today, we read “He was in the world, and the world came into being through
him, yet the world did not know him. He came to what was
his own,and his
own people did not accept him.” God sent God’s son into the world, and the
world did not know him. The world did not recognize God made known to us in the
person of Jesus. In the person of Jesus, God did something new. God is always
doing something new. God is always challenging our perceptions. God is always
asking us to find God’s self in places we don’t expect.

And God is always stirring. The collect for today, the Third
Sunday of Advent, begins “Stir up your power, O Lord, and with great might come
among us.” And I can’t think of a text that embodies this stirring up more than
the Song of Mary. She says that God has shown God’s strength, but not how we
might expect. He has scattered the proud in their conceit and honored those who
are humble. He has cast down the mighty from their thrones of power and saved
and given special place to those who are usually left out. He has sent the rich
away empty and given the resources of the rich to those in need. In all of
this, God has flipped the world as we know it upside down. And God did this in
the person of Jesus, who John the Baptist points to as the one who will come
after him.

Part of our work in this season of Advent is to prepare our hearts
to be stirred by God’s power so that we may receive Christ when he comes- so
that we don’t miss Christ at Christmas when we might be looking for someone or
something else. So, where do we find God? We look to the places that make us
wince. The places that stand out. The places that are different. Next week, we
will find God on a cold, silent night in a trough made to feed barn animals,
wrapped in strips of spare fabric. We will find God in Christ not in strength,
but in the weak, helplessness of a newborn child. God will come to us in our
beautiful church, yes, but also in a barn, bugs flying around, mice nesting in
the corner. We will find God tended to not by hired help, but by shepherds-
field hands who have heard the call of God to come and find God’s self in a
place they least expected. God’s love drew them to that place on that holy
night, and God’s love still draws us go to places where we might at first say
no.

As we prepare for Christmas, are we open to finding Jesus in a
stinky, bug-infested barn? Are we prepared to answer God’s call to us even if
we feel unprepared? Are we prepared to allow God’s spirit to call us and equip
us for the work to which we are called?

Stir up your power, O Lord, and come among us. Transform our hearts
and help us to receive you in places where we expect, and in places where we
least expect. Call us to those places and save us in those places. Amen.

Today is the beginning of a new church year: the first
Sunday of Advent. Of course, during this season of Advent, we are awaiting the
birth of our Savior, Jesus coming into this world to make tangible for us God’s
mercy and love. Also, this season is a reminder to us that we are always
awaiting Christ’s second coming, “the Son of Man coming in clouds with great
power and glory.” Jesus Christ will return marking the completion, the fruition
of the Kingdom of God on earth. The readings for this first Sunday of Advent
focus on the second coming, a day of judgment. Christ will “…gather his
elect…from the ends of the earth to the ends of heaven.” We don’t know what this
day will look like, what will happen, or what will come next. We don’t know the
when, though some have made predictions.

Back in the 1800’s, the Millerites, followers of a farmer
named William Miller, decided that the world would end on April 23, 1843, based
somehow on an interpretation of Scripture. Many gave away their possessions. When
the day arrived and Jesus didn’t, the group disbanded. More recently, scientist
Richard Noone decided that May 5, 2000 would be the day that the alignment of
the planets and the thickness of the Antarctic ice mass would lead to global
icy destruction. In 2006, minister Ronald Weinland, self-described as the
end-time prophet of God, proclaimed the second coming would happen by the end
of 2008. We don’t know the-when and that is precisely how it is laid out in
Scripture. Jesus is not telling us when. Rather, we are being encouraged to
live as though Christ’s return is imminent.

When the Gospels were written, people did expect Christ to return
any day. We just heard in the Gospel of Mark, “Truly I tell you, this
generation will not pass away until all these things have taken place.” Now,
it’s been 2,000 years. It’s easy to see how most of us have moved on from this prospect
of completion – not in any way a part our everyday awareness. But, what if it
was? What if we lived our everyday lives expecting Christ’s imminent return?

In the passage from Isaiah this morning, the people are
crying out to God, “O that you would tear open the heavens and come down, so
that the mountains would quake at your presence.” Do you hear the desire for
God in these words? This Scripture passage is set in the time after the Israelites
have returned from being in exile in Babylonia, but while the temple in
Jerusalem still lies in ruins. They are trying to cope with the devastation. They
cry out to God, “Please come.” The passage concludes with the people acknowledging
their dependence on God. “O Lord, you are our Father; we are the clay, and you
are our potter; we are all the work of your hand.” In other words, we know we
need you. This passage points to the power in weakness because when we acknowledge
our dependence on God, our need for God, we open ourselves to God inspiring our
lives; we open ourselves to God’s desire for our lives.

I love the metaphor of the clay and the potter. I read an
article about pottery explaining the time and patience it takes to craft a
piece of pottery (https://en.vogue.me/culture/therapeutic-pottery/).
A ceramicist covered in the article says, “It’s taught me a lot about letting
go a bit and not expecting perfection.” God, our potter, has infinite patience
with our imperfections, actively waiting for us, always ready to inspire us as
we are able to open are hearts to God. In this season of Advent, we are
encouraged to be actively waiting for God, full of expectation for the gift of
God living among us.

Just as God has infinite patience, so we need to be patient
in crafting our relationship with God through prayer. “Leo Tolstoy tells the
story of three hermits who lived on an island. Their prayer [to God] of
intimacy and love was simple like they were simple: ‘We are three; you are
three; have mercy on us. Amen.’ Miracles sometimes happened when they prayed in
this way. The bishop, however, hearing about the hermits, decided that they
needed guidance in proper prayer, and so he went to their small island. After
instructing the monks, the bishop set sail for the mainland, pleased to have
enlightened the souls of such simple men. Suddenly, off the stern of the ship
he saw a huge ball of light skimming across the ocean. It got closer and closer
until he could see that it was the three hermits running on top of the water. Once
on board the ship they said to the bishop, ‘We are sorry, but we have forgotten
some of your teaching. Would you please instruct us again?’ The bishop shook
his head and replied meekly, ‘Forget everything I have taught you and continue
to pray in your old way’” (Richard J. Foster, Prayer: Finding the Heart’s
True Home, New York; HarperCollins Publishers, 1992, p. 80).

There is no right or wrong way to pray and there are no
quick paths to developing our relationship with God. We need to give time to
our prayer life. Advent lends itself to contemplative prayer, sitting quietly
and simply being present to God. Desiring God is a part of our nature. But, we
have to make the space to recognize our connection to the Divine. When sitting
quietly before God, we are acknowledging our dependence on God, our need for
God. We are desiring God to be our Savior, our source of comfort, mercy and
inspiration – our perfect Love.

We don’t know when the Second Coming will happen, what it
will look like, or what will come next. But, we know it will be Good News. As
we heard in the Gospel passage, “From the fig tree learn its lesson: as soon as
its branch becomes tender and puts forth its leaves, you know that summer is
near.” If we live thinking that the Second Coming might happen at any time,
might we be inspired to focus on developing our relationship with God, so that we
come to that day without regret for what we squandered – time, talent,
treasure, relationships, priorities – but rather we come to that day with
hearts filled with joy for the love coming among us. After all, in that moment,
it will be crystal clear what actually matters in life. Amen.

For thus says the Lord God: I myself will search for my
sheep and will sort them out.

On this day, we gather in time on a threshold: the last
Sunday of the Church year, the feast of Christ the King. We end today what we
began a year ago on the first Sunday of Advent 2022, and we prepare to begin
again next week on the first Sunday of Advent 2023. In this last year, we have
walked through the story of salvation. We heard the prophets call us to
repentance and then celebrated the birth of God into this world in the person
of Jesus. We heard stories about Jesus healing the sick and even raising the
dead. This past spring, we walked with Jesus through the week of his Passion-
Holy Week- that lead to his death and then resurrection and then ascension. We
celebrated the arrival of the Holy Spirit at Pentecost, and all summer and
fall, we have continued to hear about the love of God made known to us in Jesus
that still lives and moves in our hearts through the Holy Spirit. And today, on
the last day of our journey, before we begin again, we celebrate Christ the
King. It is a feast that ends our journey and begins a new one. The feast acts
as a threshold to bridge us from what was to what will be.

But lest we are tempted to think that the Kingdom of God,
ruled by Christ the King himself, looks like a familiar earthly Kingdom with
all the trappings of a royal court, an army, a castle, crowns, fine robes, and
power, we are given stories today in our texts that include sheep and goats. Kind
of startling, isn’t it? On a day when we celebrate the Kingdom of God and the
reign of Christ, the Church gives us barn animals.

In Ezekiel, we hear that God will search for God’s own sheep
and will sort them out-- sort here meaning that God will count the sheep, see
who is missing, and check on sheep that might need special attention. “I will
bring back the strays. I will bind up the injured, and I will strengthen the
weak.” God will also not only sort and help the sheep, God will also supply all
of the needs of the sheep. “I will feed them with good pasture. There they
shall lie down.” God’s promise here is that God’s sheep will live from a place
of abundance. And then my favorite part- “I will feed them with justice.” God’s
will make things right. God will rescue the sheep from all harm. “I will save
my flock, and they shall no longer be ravaged.”

If we turn to the Gospel, we hear Jesus using sheep and
goats to further talk about God’s will and work in the world. He tells us that
those who give of themselves to take care of the least among us- the hungry,
thirsty, sick, imprisoned, estranged- will be rewarded with eternal life. And
in a dramatic act, Christ the King, will separate the sheep from the goats. He
will separate those who helped and those who didn’t. (Something to note here:
there are only two options. Either we help those in need or we don’t. Jesus
doesn’t give us an option to be passive. Either we are serving him by serving
others or we aren’t. These words can be tough to hear. Brandon reminded us in
his sermon last week of the risky business of discipleship. Jesus doesn’t mince
words here about our work as his disciples.)

But this parsing out is not a condemnation- even if Jesus’s
words here are pointed and may feel harsh. This parsing out is an invitation
to dream about a different kind of Kingdom, one very different from the kingdoms
of this world- a Kingdom that is reimagined. If we look closely enough, these
texts about sheep and goats- barn animals- are actually perfect assignments for
today’s feast of Christ the King. Jesus is not giving us a list of who’s in and
who’s out- who makes the cut and who doesn’t. Jesus is rather giving us a list
of the citizens of the Kingdom of God- who the people are that make up the rule
and reign of God. He is telling us what the Kingdom of God looks like and who
the Kingdom of God looks like. And in stern words, Jesus tells us that the Kingdom
of God is made up of folk who took the time to feed the hungry, quench the
thirst of the thirsty, clothe the naked, visit the imprisoned, and heal the
sick.

In this invitation to dream, to hope for a new world in
which all are fed and clothed and healed, Jesus asks us “Who among you are
hungry? Thirsty? Naked? Imprisoned? Sick?” He is asking us to take care of
these people, yes, but he is also inviting us to ask ourselves who else is
hungry and thirsty? Perhaps hungry and thirsty for justice and peace and an end
to war and conflict. Who else is naked? Perhaps the unhoused in need of a home,
house, to cover their life and provide them with safety and security. Who else
is imprisoned? Perhaps a prisoner to addiction because addiction to something
external is the only way they know how to cope with the pain this cruel world
has dealt them. Who else is sick? Perhaps those with little or no access to
healthcare, victims of a system that often only serves those who can afford
care.

Today, we will baptize Chloe into the Body of Christ, the
Church. And in this act of baptism, we will invite Chloe into this dreaming
with us about what is possible in the Kingdom of God. Chloe’s parents and
godparents, affirmed by our support, will take vows on her behalf to make sure
she is raised up in the faith and joins in on God’s work already happening
around us in the world. Into this imagined Kingdom that is not fully here, but
to which we continue to strive and work toward, we baptize Chloe.

And here is the good news—it is by taking care of Christ by
taking care of the most vulnerable, the sheep, we have eternal life. We
experience an encounter with Jesus in the eye of the hungry, in the handshake
of the thirsty, in meaningful conversation with the lonely, in the liberation
of the prisoner. This imagining rests on the threshold of a feast- a feast that
leads into our hope: the season of Advent, a season of preparation as we wait
for the coming of Jesus at Christmas. For we are not left to imagine this
Kingdom into being on our own. Jesus walks with us. We are not left to building
this Kingdom on our own. Jesus picks up the hammer and nails and invites us to
dream and work this Kingdom into being alongside him.

Lauren Dockery, our Director of Children & Youth Ministries, preached at our celebration of the Holy Eucharist on the Twenty-Fourth Sunday after Pentecost.

The Rev. Patricia Rose preached at the celebration of the Holy Eucharist on All Saints' Sunday.

Well, here we are, once again: the Pharisees are plotting to
entrap Jesus. Last week, Brandon preached on the passage earlier in the Gospel
of Matthew, where the Pharisees ask Jesus, “Is it lawful to pay taxes to the
emperor, or not?” Jesus replies, “Give to the emperor the things that are the
emperor’s, and to God the things that are God’s.” The passage concluded, “When
they heard this, they were amazed; and they left him and went away.” In the
intervening passage between last Sunday and today, the Sadducees take their
turn at trying to entrap Jesus. The Sadducees were a priestly sect that did not
believe in resurrection. They propose a scenario to Jesus. What if there are
seven brothers, each dies childless, each leaves his widow to the next brother.
In the resurrection, of the seven brothers, whose wife will she be? Jesus tells
them that not only do they not understand Scripture, they don’t understand the
power of God. I’ll leave the interpretation of this passage for another day. But,
just know that when Jesus tells the Sadducees, “God is not God of the dead, but
of the living,” the Sadducees are astounded.

Today, we hear the verses following the Seven Brothers story.
Jesus has silenced the Sadducees and now the Pharisees are trying again. Jesus
stumps them with a line of questioning about the Messiah being both the son of
David and the one that David calls Lord. “The Messiah is both in the line of
David and transcends his lineage” (Tim Beach-Verhey, Feasting on the Word, Year A, Volume 4, p. 216). The passage
concludes, “No one was able to give him an answer, nor from that day did anyone
dare to ask him any more questions.” First, last week, the Pharisees were
amazed. Then, the Sadducees were astounded. Now, the Pharisees are speechless
and done asking questions. Jesus has made his point. He is saying, “Listen to me.
I speak with ultimate knowledge and authority. I am offering you Good News. Love
your neighbor as yourself.” It’s not a new message for Jesus’ antagonists, nor for
his followers. The Old Testament passage this morning from Leviticus ends with
these words: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself; I am the Lord.” God’s
loving message is as old as time. We are not fully loving God if we are not
loving what God loves. God wants us to know that the path forward to healing
this broken world is loving our neighbor as our self.

We can be overwhelmed by the divisiveness in Washington –
the lack of moral character – the thirst for power that voids all desire to
collaborate in decision-making. We can be overwhelmed by the wars in the Holy
Land and Ukraine, the animosity, the depravity. Yet, we need to remind
ourselves that living in the light of Christ has always been countercultural. The
arc of the moral universe is long. Just as Paul encouraged the Thessalonians to
remain faithful, we encourage one another to live as we are meant to live,
cultivating the Kingdom of God, trusting that when we love our neighbor as
ourselves, the seeds will grow, however long it might take to come to fruition.

I am serving on the Board of Trustees for Bexley Seabury Seminary.
I was at a Board meeting a couple of weeks ago. Bishop Doug Sparks, Bishop of the
Diocese of Northern Indiana, who is the President of the Board, told a story
from his childhood. He is a twin. When he and his sister were four years old,
their father was diagnosed with Parkinson’s disease and was placed in an
institution where he lived for the next ten years until his death. Doug and his
sister attended a Catholic School. He remembers the sadness and trauma of being
teased about not having a Dad. Of course, his Dad couldn’t show up for any of those
parent-child events at school. One day, when Doug and his sister were in 3^rd
grade, the priest came into the classroom and announced that he was taking Doug
and his sister to see their Dad. Bishop Sparks talked about how amazing that
moment was for him, the moment the priest named his Dad in front of the whole
classroom. He made his Dad known. That’s how we love as Christ loves us. Upholding
the dignity of every human being. Even more broadly, putting ourselves in the
other person’s shoes. Always remembering that a person’s life experiences is
the context for their beliefs and actions today.

Loving our neighbor as our self is not always easy. We have
different personalities, different perspectives - at times strikingly different
points of view. We come together in this faith community to support one
another. We come together for forgiveness, renewal, refreshment, and inspiration
to live our everyday lives in the light of Christ. Well, I do need to shake my
head just a bit that after nine months of raising money to support the Walking
in Love Capital Campaign, and just one week after a wonderful celebration of a
successful campaign, I now have the privilege of kicking off the Annual
Campaign. Just as a reminder, a capital campaign focuses on the longer-term
needs of the church. With the proceeds of the Walking in Love Campaign, we will
be able to address major infrastructure needs that come around once every 20,
50, or even 100 years. In addition, we will grow the church’s endowment funds to
ensure the long-term health of the parish by generating investment income that
will sustain the ministries of the parish for generations to come.

Though annually, we receive investment income from the
endowment, and we have a few other sources of other income, 70% of our annual
budget comes from our annual pledges. Our pledges ensure that worship, music, pastoral
care, education, outreach, and fellowship will continue to thrive throughout
the coming year. This is a pivotal year for us at St. Paul’s because we are
losing two of our largest pledges due to life transitions, which amount to more
than 10% of total pledges. I ask that you prayerfully consider your annual
pledge this year to help us cover our annual operating needs: all ministries
and programs, clergy and staff salaries, outreach to our community and the
wider world, facility maintenance and utilities, and Diocesan and wider church
support. We come here seeking God, desiring to understand how to live our lives
with God, how to live as we are meant to live, loving our neighbor as our self.
Living in gratitude for God’s love in our lives, we give to support the
ministries, which nourish us individually and as a community. As always, I am
so grateful for your gifts of time, talent, and treasure, and so grateful to be
on this journey with you. Amen.

When I was in high school, a teacher once accused me of being “obsequious.” Having not yet encountered this word in my SAT prep, I was forced to look it up in the dictionary (which, in the pre-smartphone age, meant I had to find an actual dictionary). You can imagine my indignation upon learning that an “obsequious” person relies on excessive flattery to ingratiate themselves with someone important. In other words, my teacher had used a fancy word to call me a kiss-up! Adding insult to injury, I learned that an “obsequious” person is, by definition, insincere. Disingenuous. Which is to say, it’s a perfect word to describe Jesus’ rivals in the passage we just heard. These obsequious opponents greet Jesus with words of fawning, insincere flattery. “Teacher,” they say to Jesus, “we know that you are sincere, and teach the way of God in accordance with truth.” But their true intention is to entrap Jesus. Their words are full of praise, but their hearts are full of malice.

In our Gospel passages the last few weeks, this tension between Jesus and his adversaries has been building. Remember, today’s scene takes place only days after the events of Palm Sunday. When Jesus entered Jerusalem on a donkey and was greeted with cries of “hosanna,” as the crowds proclaimed him the long-awaited Jewish Messiah. From there, Jesus moves to the Temple, where we find him today – at the very center of Jewish religious life and power. Teaching and telling parables, about a kingdom where the last will be first, and the first will be last. Understandably, those in positions of power are starting to feel threatened. So threatened, in fact, that an unlikely alliance has formed between the Pharisees (the religious elite), and the Herodians (friends of the emperor). Opposition to Jesus, it seems, turns enemies into friends. In only a matter of days, they will arrest Jesus and put him to death. But today, they test Jesus with cunning words in the form of this question: “Is it lawful to pay taxes to the emperor, or not?”

If he answers “yes,” Jesus will appear sympathetic to the Roman Empire. That would alienate his Jewish followers, who are the victims of Roman oppression. If he says “no,” he’ll expose himself to charges of sedition. And that would give the Roman authorities a reason to arrest him. Jesus appears to be trapped. Except, Jesus refuses to play by his questioners’ rules. He declines to answer yes or no, and instead asks them a question: “Whose head and title is found on coin used to pay the tax?” “The emperor’s,” they reply. “Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor’s,” Jesus says, “and to God the things that are God’s.”

Jesus successfully evades their trick question. But what does his answer mean for us? For a long time, Jesus’ answer has been used to justify the separation of our lives into two distinct spheres: the civic realm and the spiritual realm. By calling us to “render unto Caesar what belongs to Caesar, and to God what belongs to God,” Jesus clarifies the relationship between obedience to the state and obedience to God. Many argue that his response suggests you and I have a dual allegiance: “to the teaching and commands of God, on the one hand…and to the government…on the other."

But if I’m honest, I find this interpretation deeply unsatisfying. It’s too simple and tidy. And Jesus was neither of these things. If we cling too tightly to a separation between our civic and spiritual lives, we deny God’s claim on the entirety of our lives. It’s true, we live now as citizens of an earthly kingdom governed by earthly laws. But as citizens of God’s kingdom first, our work is to bear the fruit of his kingdom even now, during our sojourn on earth. And this is a timely topic for us today, as we are weeks away from an election. And in that election, I trust that we, as people of faith, will cast our votes in a way that reflects our most authentic understanding of how best to love God and our neighbors, which is our highest spiritual calling.

Our participation in civic systems is not removed from our spiritual lives or divorced from the convictions of our faith. It is a place where we can become instruments of God’s peace, God’s justice, God’s righteousness, and God’s love. We see this clearly in our work with Greater Cleveland Congregations, where we work alongside other communities of faith for positive social change, often through engagement with those in positions of political power.

So, if this passage is not about bifurcating our spiritual and civic lives, what is its message for us today? Well, let’s go back to where we started – with Jesus’ obsequious opponents. Before Jesus even attempts to respond to their question, he calls out their hypocrisy, as he does over and over throughout the gospels, particularly in his ongoing disputes with the Pharisees. Contrary to a common misperception, Jesus is not here or elsewhere criticizing the Pharisees for their religious beliefs. Jesus was a faithful Jew and no doubt had great sympathy for the Pharisee’s devotion to Torah and its teachings. He condemned them not for their beliefs, but for their hypocrisy. For their false righteousness. For their false persona. For coming to him under the false pretense of being concerned about matters of faith when they just wanted to get rid of Jesus and preserve their own power. The intentions of the Pharisee’s hearts did not match the faith they professed.

Jesus calls us to different way of living. He calls us lives of integrity. Lives of authenticity. Lives of wholeness. Jesus denied any claim on that coin because it bore the image of Caeser. Instead, Jesus claims us as the currency of his kingdom because we bear the image of God. We are God’s currency of peace, justice, and love, in a world torn asunder by the evil fruits of war, hatred, and violence. Indeed, we are gathered here today to be nourished by God’s Word and sacrament to cultivate lives of faith that lead to good works. May we leave here today, renewed for the work of building God’s kingdom on earth. Amen.

The Rev. Patricia preached at the celebration of the Holy Eucharist on the Twentieth Sunday after Pentecost.

“The one who judges us most finally will be the one who loves us most fully," Frederick Buechner.
Frederick Buechner, the beloved writer and theologian, gets us started this morning with our reflection on Scripture. “The one who judges us most finally will be the one who loves us most fully.”

“O God: Grant us the fullness of your grace, that we, running to obtain your promises, may become partakers of your heavenly treasure.”

These words from today’s opening Collect are prayed every year on this Sunday. It’s one of my favorite collects in the entire Prayer Book because I love the imagery of running to obtain God’s promises. And friends, let me tell you, I am not a runner. At all. But, abundant and eternal life in the Kingdom of God? Heavenly treasure? I’d like to think these are promises I’d be willing to run after.



I’ve been thinking a lot about God’s promises lately because in just the last week at St. Paul’s, we held three funeral services. Three beloved members of the St. Paul’s community – George Shook, Gary Mitchener, and Bob Emmet – were celebrated and commended to God’s eternal safekeeping from this sacred space. Even if you did not have the privilege to know these men during their lifetimes, we are all impacted by their deaths as members with them of the Body of Christ. The grief that accompanies their loss, and the joy at their entrance into the nearer presence of God, are present with us in this moment in the life of St. Paul’s.



Funerals are powerful reminders to us of God’s promises. The burial liturgy of our Prayer Book finds all its meaning in the hopeful promise of resurrection to eternal life. It reminds those of us still on our earthly pilgrimage that Jesus has conquered death forever, which frees us to live with confidence and boldness now. We are emboldened to embrace the abundant life that Jesus promises us even now, in this life. Most of us think of eternal life in terms of time: as life that never ends. And, indeed, it is that. But eternal life, as it is described in scripture, refers not only to never-ending life with God on the other side of the grave. Eternal life refers also to a quality of life that is available to us even now. A participation in God’s divine life that is available to us in this life, through Jesus. In the gospel of John, Jesus says, “This is eternal life, that [you] may know…the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom [he] has sent.” Each Sunday celebration of the Holy Eucharist is an opportunity to renew our commitment to know Jesus and to seek this eternal life. Each Sunday we are invited to live deeper lives of faith. To live as more intentional followers of Jesus. To make an honest appraisal of our lives and consider whether we are running or simply ambling along on our journey of faith.



Today is a particularly good Sunday to consider this, because it is the last Sunday of our Capital Campaign. And as this critical chapter in our communal life comes to an end, we are reminded of the incredible generosity of this community. It’s a powerful testament to this generosity that we’ve raised almost six million dollars, and this moment in our lives together is indeed something to celebrate. It’s also a moment to renew our commitment to living lives rooted in Jesus and seeking the kingdom of God. To live more deeply into our baptismal vows to follow Jesus as Lord, to proclaim the Good News of God in Christ, to love our neighbor, and to work for justice and peace.



Indeed, today’s Gospel passage points us to this choice. In it, Jesus tells us a parable about two sons whose father sends them to work in his vineyard. The first son refuses to heed his father’s command, but in the end, he changes his mind and goes to work in the vineyard. The second son responds favorably to his father’s command but then never follows through. As far as the parables of Jesus go, this is a blessedly simple one. The first son says the wrong thing but does the right thing; the second son says the right thing, but his actions fall short of his words. The moral of the parable can be summarized rather succinctly with this common expression: actions speak louder than words.



When Jesus told this parable, he was speaking to the Pharisees and religious leaders. The insiders. The people who were adjacent to wealth and power. People, let’s be honest, who are more like us than we might care to admit. So, we would do well to hear Jesus’ parable as not only an invitation, but also a warning. As we steward this wealth we have so quickly amassed, we should ask: will we be like the son who talks the talk, but doesn’t walk the walk, or will we go to labor in the vineyard with renewed fervor? Will we embrace the values of Jesus’ kingdom not only with our lips, but in our lives? Will we, the stewards of great wealth, confront social and economic inequities and other injustices and do our part to build the kingdom of God? Will we say yes to God’s promise of eternal life? Faithful stewardship of our financial resources is the ongoing, never-ending work of the faith community. Fortifying our buildings and replenishing our endowment is something we do first and foremost so we can participate in God’s mission. So the question our Gospel poses to us this morning is this: which son will we be?