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Dec 01 2024
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Show Us Something New

Preached at St. Martin’s in-the-Field, Severna Park 

December 1, 2024: Advent I, Year C 

Nothing says the beginning of Advent like a little apocalypse.  I really do mean that.   

Every year, at Thanksgiving, we start preparing for Advent and Christmas.  In my house this means making sure the kids’ wish lists are updated on Amazon for the sake of my in-laws who start asking in October if I have updated said lists yet.  It means washing new Christmas jammies I always give the kids on the first Sunday of Advent.  It means pulling out the Christmas decorations so Jay can make our home look appropriately festive and silly with too many inflatables.  It means playing our favorite soundtrack: A Charlie Brown Christmas. 

And it means coming to church to hear the world is coming to an end. Every. Single. Advent. 

Here’s the thing.  When Jesus says: “There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars, and on the earth distress among nations confused by the roaring of the sea and the waves…” it is good news.  I know it doesn’t sound like good news to those of us who would like as little disruption as possible in our already full and complicated lives, but friends, this is good news. 

To the people listening to Jesus as he spoke these words, this was a message of hope!  It promised an end to oppression, marginalization and grief.  It promised a kingdom of peace instead of Roman rule.  It meant worshipping God without risk of imprisonment or death.  It meant an end to families being separated and scattered as they fled persecution.   

That is why Jesus says: “Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.”  Your redemption is drawing near!  Relief is coming!  The kingdom of God is near!  The end of one world is giving birth to something new, something good. 

And to us, living our full and complicated lives, it is good news, too.  Because as much as we don’t want one more disruption, one more change, one more transition to troubleshoot… I think it is possible that there’s another way—perhaps a better way—to approach life.  The end of one way of doing things could indeed give birth to something new, something good. 

This, really, is what I love about Advent.   

Advent invites us to do the opposite of what the world around us is doing—to slow down when everyone else is speeding up.  Advent invites us to stop, pause, pay attention, take stock of what is actually serving our life with Christ and one another, and what needs to end for the sake of new life. 

You may have noticed that instead of singing/saying the Gloria or a “Song of Praise,” we sang/said the Kyrie: Lord have mercy, Christ have mercy, Lord have mercy. 

These are penitential words.  We are asking for mercy because Advent, like Lent, is a season of reflecting on what is getting in the way of our relationship with Jesus.  In Lent, we are preparing our hearts and our lives for resurrection.  It is intentional work to make space for the Risen Christ to change us.   

In Advent, we are preparing our hearts and our lives for incarnation—for God with skin on.  And because the season is shorter and the time is especially frenzied, we have to be that much more intentional about making space for God to be born once more.  Everybody knows that babies take up time and space—they upend our lives!  And this baby, this Christ child, this God person growing in the womb of an audacious young woman, this Jesus cannot come into our lives without upending our lives.   

So, friends, how will you prepare for the end of the world and the start of something new? 

How will you “be on guard so that your hearts are not weighed down,” and how will you “be alert at all times, praying for strength.” 

Paul’s letter to the church in Thessalonica suggests that love is what strengthens us, and that love is what sets us apart and makes us holy.  I actually really love his prayer that the church would be “abounding” in love.  It speaks to an abundance of love, yes, but the word “abounding” sounds to me like a cup-running-over kind of love.  May you have more love than you know what to do with.  May you love one another excessively.  May your love spill over into everything you do and everyone you meet. 

Even and especially when it feels like the world is coming to an end—may you love with abandon.  Even and especially when you cannot tell up from down and you feel dizzy and disoriented by the changes you see around you, may an overabundance of love be what carries you, holds you, and keeps you steady.  Even and especially when your hearts are “weighed down with dissipation and drunkenness and the worries of this life,” may you find the will to love 

Jesus says: “Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.” 

Jesus is the Word incarnate, love incarnate, God with us. 

Stop.  Pay attention.  Make space for Christ to be born once again in you. 

Oh come, oh come, Emmanuel.  Turn our lives upside down and show us something new, something good. Amen. 

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Nov 17 2013
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Time to testify

Preached on Proper 28 at St. Matthew & St. Timothy Church, New York

2 Thessalonians 3:6-13; Luke 21:5-19

If you are at all familiar with the history of this church, St. Matthew & St. Timothy’s, you know the church building has been destroyed 4 times since its inception in 1797.  This very building that we are sitting in now was rebuilt in 1969 after being burnt to the ground in 1965.

If you have been around this church for the past 15 or 20 years, you know the neighborhood and the congregation have seen their fair share of change.  I’ve been here less than 2 years.  But I spent 5 weeks listening to the stories of people in this parish as we discussed Radical Welcome* in our October book study.

What I have learned from all of you is that this church was a safe harbor when the streets were too dangerous to walk down.  In a time when one could not walk from Columbus Avenue to Amsterdam unless first heading a few blocks North or South to circumvent drugs and violence, St. Matthew & St. Timothy was a haven of worship, learning, language and relationships.

The neighborhood is a safer place now than it once was.  But with increased safety comes increased rent, leaving many priced out of their homes—either forced to leave, or to stay but feel like outsiders.  And the changes have taken a toll on our Spiritual Home too.  We look around and feel anemic—nostalgic for the days when services were noisy with children and pews were full of friends.

We are not too different from the writer of Luke’s Gospel and the people who would have first heard it.  While the exact date of Luke’s Gospel is not known, many scholars believe that it was written after the destruction of the temple described in our reading today.  So while Jesus was predicting the destruction of the temple, Luke’s account is written in retrospect of it.

And if the destruction of the temple weren’t enough, the verses immediately following today’s reading talk about a serious neighborhood change—the rule of the gentiles in what was a Jewish land.

In short: this message is for us.  This Gospel is ours.

Jesus says the temple building will be thrown down, when not one stone will be left upon another.  This church has seen the same.

He says we’ll encounter false teachers to lead us astray.  Our world has known many.

He says nations and kingdoms will be at war with one another.  The Veterans we honored this week can speak to that truth.

He warns of natural disasters and epidemics.  We of course remember last year’s Hurricane Sandy even as we pray for the victims of this week’s Typhoon in the Philippines.

He warns of betrayal and hatred and death.  An every-day threat.

And in light of allllll that, Jesus says we will not perish.  We will endure.  And he tells us this is our opportunity to testify.

To give testimony.  To bear witness.  That’s not easy to do when your temple is in shambles and your community is a faithful remnant among strangers.

And I’m not trying to say that our church has fallen apart and our neighbors are our enemies.  This is not a perfect comparison—and thank God it isn’t.  But it is a chance for us to recognize the challenges of Jesus’ time and of our own time, and to hear Jesus’ call in the midst of it all to be the resurrection people who proclaim a resurrection story.

It’s easier to testify when things are going well—when we are feeling strong and sure of ourselves.  I tell people all the time that I intern at the best parish with the best mentor.  I tell people how wonderful the parishoners are and how welcome you all make me feel.  I tell them I actually get to do good work here—like working with the soup kitchen last year, preaching in two languages, leading a thought provoking book study.  For me, having only been here 18 months rather than 18 years, it’s easy to appreciate the thriving ministry that is St. Matthew & St. Timothy’s.

But we have to testify when we’re feeling down too, and I can understand how those who have experienced the transition in our community and church might find endurance and testimony to be hard work.

Paul’s letter to the Thessalonians is about hard work.  You would almost think he’s writing to employees at a business, but he’s really talking to Christians in the early church.

My favorite line is, “We hear that some of you are living in idleness, mere busybodies, not doing any work” (3:11).  Note that Paul does not equate busy-ness with work.  The Thessalonians were apparently quite busy even in their idleness.

New York is a very busy place—take it from someone clearly not from here.  My level of busy-ness has reached an all time high, and my guess is you feel pretty busy on most days too.  Sometimes I’m so busy I can’t seem to get any work done.

Here are some examples:

When I’m so busy worrying about an exam that I can’t focus on studying for it.

When I’m so busy writing a sermon that I forget to listen to the Holy Spirit.

When a seminary is so busy making ends meet that it forgets that it is an extension of the church first and a business second.

When we’re so busy preparing food for the soup kitchen that we forget to prepare our hearts to truly serve our neighbor with dignity and love.

When we’re so busy missing so-and-so who used to be here all the time that we either forget to check in on that person or forget to check in on the person who is actually here present with us.

Sometimes we’re so busy lamenting the destruction of the temple that we forget to testify to the promise of resurrection.

People occasionally ask me why I’m training to become a priest when churches everywhere are experiencing decline.  Where’s the job security in that?

The truth is I’m training to become a priest in a church that preaches resurrection—Christ has died, Christ is risen, Christ will come again.  We practice resurrection every time we come to this table to receive the broken body of Christ, and we practice resurrection when we become what we receive—Christ alive in us, in our church, in the world.

And it’s true that we feel thrown down or betrayed at times.  But this is where we come for the spiritual food we need to endure.  Not enduring as busy-bodies, but as witnesses to a risen Christ.

In a few moments we’ll prepare this table for our Holy Communion—all of us, together.  And whether you’re robed at the altar or standing in a pew, you are integral in sharing Christ’s body.  Together we profess a bold faith and pray bold prayers.  Your testimony is just as important as mine, Deacon George’s or Mother Carla’s.  This is our work. But it’s not the end of our work.  We testify to a risen Christ in these walls with one another, and then we continue to bear witness when we “go forth into the world rejoicing.”

Jesus tells us: “This will give you an opportunity to testify.”  Lord, help us to see the opportunities here among us.  Help us to be your resurrected church.  Amen.

*Radical Welcome by Stephanie Spellers is an excellent read.

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Nov 17 2013
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Ser la resurrección

17 noviembre, 2013—Proper 28—Iglesia de San Mateo & San Timoteo, Nueva York

2 Tesalonicenses 3:6–13; San Lucas 21:5–19

Si están familiarizados con la historia de esta congregación, San Mateo & San Timoteo, conocen que el edificio de la iglesia ha sido destruido cuatro veces desde su incepción en 1797.  Este mismo edificio en el cual nos sentamos ahora fue reconstruido en 1969  después de haber sido quemado en 1965.

Si han estado aquí en los últimos 15 años, ya saben que el barrio y la congregación han visto mucho cambio.  Hace menos de 2 años que estoy aquí, pero las 5 semanas pasadas, he escuchado las historias de varias personas en esta iglesia durante nuestras reuniones hablando del libro “Radical Welcome.”

Lo que he aprendido de todos ustedes es que esta iglesia era un lugar seguro cuando había demasiado peligro en el barrio.  Que a un tiempo no se podía caminar desde Columbus Avenue hasta Amsterdam a menos que primero anda unas cuadras al norte o el sur para eludir las drogas y la violencia.  En este tiempo, San Mateo & San Timoteo era un refugio de celebración, adoración, estudios, lenguas y relaciones.

El barrio es un lugar más seguro ahora, pero con el aumento de seguridad viene el aumentado de rentas—hasta que algunos son obligados a irse, o a quedarse, pero se sienten como extranjeros.  Y los cambios han tenido graves consecuencias para nuestro hogar espiritual también.  Miramos alrededor y nos sentimos anémicos—nostálgicos de los días cuando los servicios eran ruidosos con niños y los bancos estaban llenos de amigas.

Nosotros no somos muy diferentes al escritor del Evangelio de San Lucas y la gente que lo habría oído primero.  No se conoce la fecha exacta de este Evangelio, pero muchos estudiosos creen que fue escrito después de la destrucción del templo descrito en nuestra lectura de hoy.  Así que, mientras que Jesús predice la destrucción del templo, la narración de San Lucas está escrito en forma retrospectiva.

Y si la destrucción del templo no era suficiente ya, los versículos inmediatamente después de la conversación de la lectura de hoy hablan de un cambio serio en el barrio—el imperio de los gentiles en lo que era una tierra judía.

El punto es: este mensaje es para nosotros.  Este evangelio es el nuestro.

Jesús dice que el edificio del templo será destruido, cuando no quedará ni una piedra sobre otra.  Esta iglesia ha visto lo mismo.

Dice que nos encontraremos con falso maestros que nos llevan por mal camino.  Nuestro mundo ha conocido muchos.

Dice que las naciones y reinos estarán en guerra, uno con el otro.  Los veteranos que honramos esta semana pueden hablar sobre esa verdad.

Advierte de las epidemias y los desastres naturales.  Recordamos el huracán Sandy el año pasado mientras que oramos por las víctimas de tifón de esta semana en las Filipinas.

Advierte de la traición  del odio y la muerte—una amenaza cada día.

Y aún todo esto, Jesús dice que no pereceremos.  Perduraremos.  Y nos dice que esta es nuestra oportunidad para testificar.

No es fácil dar testimonio cuando el templo está en ruinas y su comunidad es un remanente fiel entre extraños.

Y no estoy tratando de decir que nuestra iglesia ha caído y nuestros vecinos son enemigos.  Esta comparación no es perfecta—y gracias a Dios que no lo es.  Pero es una oportunidad para reconocer los desafíos del tiempo de Jesús y de nuestro propio tiempo, y a escuchar el llamado de Jesús en medio de todo, que nosotros somos la gente de resurrección que proclaman una historia de la resurrección.

Es más fácil testificar cuando las cosas van bien, cuando nos sentimos fuertes y seguros.  Digo a la gente todo el tiempo que yo trabajo en la mejor parroquia con la mejor mentora.  Digo a personas lo maravilloso que son todos ustedes y cómo bienvenida todos me hacen sentir.  Yo les digo que buen trabajo puedo hacer aquí—como trabajar en el “Soup Kitchen” el año pasado, predicar en dos idiomas, facilitar un estudio de libro.  Para mí, haber estado aquí sólo 18 meses en lugar de 18 años, es fácil apreciar el ministerio vibrante de San Mateo & San Timoteo.

Pero tenemos que testificar cuando nos sentimos débiles también, y puedo entender cómo aquellos que han experimentado la transición en nuestra comunidad y en nuestra iglesia pueden sentirse que el testimonio es un trabajo duro.

La carta de Pablo a los Tesalonicenses habla de trabajo duro.  Casi parece que está escribiendo a los empleados de un negocio, pero realmente está hablando a los cristianos en la iglesia primitiva.

Mi frase favorita es, “Pero hemos sabido que algunos de ustedes llevan una conducta indisciplinada, muy ocupados en no hacer nada.” Notan que Pablo no equiparar ser ocupado con trabajo.  Los Tesalonicenses aparentemente estaban muy ocupados en su ociosidad.

Nueve York es un lugar muy ocupado—te lo dice como alguien que claramente no es de aquí.  Mi nivel de actividad ha llegado a el punto más alto, y supongo que se deben sentir muy ocupados como yo.  A veces, estoy tan ocupada que no puedo hacer cualquier trabajo.

Estos son algunos ejemplos:

Cuando estoy tan ocupada preocupada por un examen que no me puedo concentrar en el estudio que debo hacer.

Cuando estoy tan ocupada escribiendo un sermón que olvido escuchar al Espíritu Santo.

Cuando un seminario está tan ocupado por la banca rota que se olvida que es una extensión de la iglesia primero y un negocio segundo.

Cuando estamos tan ocupados preparando la comida para “Soup Kitchen” los domingos que olvidamos de preparar nuestros corazones para servir al prójimo con dignidad y amor.

Cuando estamos tan ocupados extrañando a tal persona que no viene a la iglesia que olvidamos llamar a esta persona para saber como está, o olvidamos preguntar como está la persona que está aquí, presente con nosotros.

A veces estamos tan ocupados lamentando la destrucción del templo que olvidamos a testificar a la promesa de la resurrección.

A veces personas me preguntan por qué estoy entrenando para ser sacerdote cuando iglesias por todas partes están experimentando decaencia.  ¿Dónde está la seguridad del empleo en esto?

La verdad es que estoy entrenando para ser una sacerdote en una iglesia que predica la resurrección—Cristo ha muerto, Cristo ha resucitado, Cristo volverá.  Practicamos la resurrección cada vez que venimos a esta mesa para recibir el cuerpo roto de Cristo, y practicamos la resurrección cuando nos convertimos en lo que recibimos—Cristo vivo en nosotros, en nuestra iglesia, en el mundo.

Y es cierto que nos sentimos débiles a veces.  Pero aquí es donde venimos para la comida espiritual que necesitamos para resistir.  No para ser ocupados, pero para ser testigos de un Cristo resucitado.

En unos momentos preparamos esta mesa para nuestra comunión—todos juntos.  No importa si usted está el el altar o en un banco, eres integral en compartir el cuerpo de Cristo.  Juntos profesamos una fe audaz y rezamos oraciones audaces.  Su testimonio es tan importante como la mía, o de diácono George, o de Madre Carla.  Este es nuestro trabajo.  Pero no es el punto final de nuestro trabajo.  Testificamos a un Cristo resucitado en estas paredes juntas, y luego seguimos dando testimonio cuando vamos adelante en el mundo.

Jesús nos dice: “Esto le dará la oportunidad de testificar.”  Señor, ayúdanos ver las oportunidades aquí entre nosotros.  Ayúdanos a ser la iglesia resucitada.  Amén.

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