Sermon Synopses - 2009

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Sermon for October 28, 2009
The Feast of St. Simon and St. Jude
John 15:17-27

“If the world hates you, be aware that it hated me before it hated you.” – John 15:19

Today is the feast day of Sts. Simon and Jude, saints about whom we know almost nothing.  The only thing we know about Simon is that he was one of the disciples and that he was called the “Zealot.”  The only thing we know about Jude is that he, too, was one of the twelve, and that he is called not only “Jude,” but also “Judas son of James” and “Thaddeus.”  We don’t know for sure if Simon and Jude lived to a ripe old age, as some traditions maintain, or if they were martyred, as other traditions attest.  We know almost nothing about Simon and Jude.  But today’s gospel lesson suggests that we do know that Simon and Jude were hated.  “If the world hates you, be aware that it hated be before it hated you.”

How could we possibly think that Simon and Jude were hated, given that we know so little about them?  To help illustrate how one might think that Simon and Jude were hated, let me share with you from a broadcast of the Prairie Home companion by Garrison Keillor.

Well, it’s been a quiet week in Lake Wobegon, Minnesota, my hometown…
I recall when I was a little boy, going to the volunteer fire department Fourth of July picnic. My family doesn’t remember this at all, but they have very poor memories… I got the beans on my plate and I had the bun and I had just put the wiener in the bun and I was just squeezing the ketchup and the air turned white and it was snowing. Snow was falling and everybody was amazed and then somebody said, “oh no”, they said, “It’s fluff from the cottonwood trees, it’s just seeds coming down from the cottonwood trees”, and so, that was that, but then I looked down at my plate and there was nothing there. Now cottonwood fluff does not melt. Seeds don’t just disappear. It was snow on the Fourth of July. A snow flurry hit Lake Wobegon on the Fourth of July when I was a boy, but if you talk to anybody, including my family who was at the Volunteer Fire Department Bean Feed that day in 1951 on the Fourth of July, they will tell you that was fluff from the cottonwood trees that came down. I was the only one who knew the truth. A terrible responsibility for a child and one more reason to leave town, you know. There were too many things that I was the only one that knew them… Stunning thought, but when God sends snow down on the Fourth of July, that indicates to me that he is talking to us in a loud voice and apparently I was the only one who saw this and therefore, the only one who might have a hunch what God was trying to tell us, but I turned down the privilege, thank you very much, no thank you. To be a Prophet was too much for me then and it’s too much for me now. To be a Prophet is hard work anytime and anyplace, but you never want to do it in a town of less than 2,000 population. If you live there and if you come from there. To stand and to tell people the truth, that they have been successfully avoiding is not a pleasant business in a small town.

Keillor went on to describe a man in his hometown, back in 1918, who, in response to the flags lining the main street after the armistice, said “I wish they’d take the flags down, I don’t think there’s any glory in this war, it’s just a bunch of politicians.”  He was ostracized and shunned for his stance.

You have become a scourge. You have become a Prophet and It’s time to time to hit the road Jack. You gotta get out of this town. Well, that never happened to me and I’m not ever going to have it happen to me. That’s what God was offering me when he had the snow fall on the Fourth of July and I saw it. He was saying, “Witness to people about this. Reveal the truth of this and be a Prophet”. I said, “No thank you, I don’t want it”. He said, “This will be a great service to people whom you love, to tell them the truth”. I said, “Well they’re not going to thank me for it. I know that for sure. People hurt Prophets. They throw sharp things at them. They rip the clothes off them and they make them sit for long periods of time in uncomfortable positions on top of sharp objects that are extremely flammable. That’s what they do to Prophets. I don’t want that. I don’t want any pain whatsoever. I don’t ever want to experience any pain. Minor dentistry is more than enough for me. So, no thank you. I don’t want to be a Prophet and tell the truth. What can I do that’s the opposite of that?” And so, I got into this line of work. Telling lies and I’ve never regretted it, which is a terrible thing to say in front of children. To say that you’ve spent your life telling lies, but I have and I’ve had a wonderful time, and I have been very well rewarded for this, and I have been congratulated by all sorts of people including members of the clergy, whereas if I had been Prophet and told the truth, I would be broke and I would be unhappy myself and I would be despised and I would be condemned from most pulpits in the country. No thanks, I don’t really care for that. Children, your parents and your teachers and your minister always urging you to take the high path, but, there is evidence that it is better to do the contrary.

Why does the lectionary suggest that Simon and Jude were hated?  We can surmise that Simon and Jude were hated because they told the truth.  That truth-tellers are hated has implications for us who are part of communities that purport to be purveyors of truth. 

We most likely know that we will be hated if we tell the truth.  This is common knowledge.  But even more sinister to me is that – if Keillor is right – people are unlikely to tell the truth in small towns, small communities like this one.  In small communities like ours, how are we going to learn the truth of the Christian message, if truth tellers, afraid of the pain, clam up and run away?  How will we learn that God created us for relationship with him and that this relationship will involve leaving behind sure food sources of leeks, onions and melons and crossing seas and wandering in deserts? How will we learn that following God calls for complete loyalty, forsaking all other gods and worshipping him?  Who is going to tell us that our following this God is a matter of life and death, not merely for us individually, but for the whole people?  If truth tellers, afraid of the pain, clam up and run away, who will tell us about how God loved us so much that he sent his only Son, not only to live among us, but also to die on the cross for us?  Who will tell us that, if we would be disciples of this Jesus, we must take up our cross and follow him?  Who is going to tell us these truths in our small town?

You might say that it is my responsibility to tell you these truths.  And it is, and with God’s grace I will do so.  But it is also our responsibility – all our collective responsibilities – to tell truth.  Truth spoken by multiple voices has a much greater chance of being heard and learned than truth spoken by one voice.  It is hard to tell truths in small towns, and so we gather here tonight, not in a small town, but in a small group, to practice telling truth.  We may not have the nerve to tell truth in the town, but we can do it in a group, where we can see the whites of each others’ eyes, where the stakes are lower, where we have permission to be vulnerable.  Many of us will gather after the service this evening to tell truth.  We will tell the truth of how the Spirit has been acting in our lives as we have been reading God’s his holy word.  We will tell the truth of the many questions God’s word raises in our hearts.  We will tell the truth of the impact that God’s word has made on us.

The vestry, at its recent meeting, talked about its desire for more small groups here at Trinity Parish, groups in which we can learn the truth about God’s presence in our lives, the truth about our great yearning for God, the truth found in God’s holy word.  Truths that we might be afraid to tell in the town, we have the courage to tell in small groups. 

Perhaps it is appropriate that today’s feast is the feast day, not of an individual saint, but of a small group, Simon and Jude.  Simon and Jude can remind us that, when we gather with our fellow Christians in small groups, we can tell truths that might be too difficult to tell in the town.  I am pleased that so many of us are part of the Whole Bible Experience, and I invite all of us to find a small group – perhaps Trinity’s catechumenate process, which begins December 2, 9 and 16 – in which you can practice telling truth.  And the more voices we have telling truth, the more likely we are to learn the great truth, to learn the One who is called “the Truth,” Jesus Christ.

Sermon for Sunday, October 25, 2009
Mark 10:46-52

“What do you want me to do for you?” – Jesus to Bartimaeus, Mark 10:51

I remember attending a retreat in which the retreat leader gave a plenary session on the text of today’s gospel lesson, the story of Jesus’ healing Bartimaeus from Mark chapter 10.  He talked about all the ways in which Jesus comes to us:  in worship, in solitude, in friendship, in nature, in illness, etc.  These are our “Jerichos,” the retreat leader said: 

“As we are seated at our Jerichos, Jesus comes to us.  Jesus comes to us and asks ‘What do you want me to do for you?’  Now, go off and spend some time telling Jesus what you want him to do for you.”

I dutifully went off and prayed about what I was sure the retreat leader has asked us to pray about, “What does Jesus want you to do for him?”  [Pause]  Not “What do you want Jesus to do for you?”, but “What does Jesus want you to do for him?”   I don’t know why I mis-heard the retreat leader.  And I was surprised to discover that the next day, when we reconvened, more than half of us has mis-heard the retreat leader and had prayed the very same question as I had prayed:  not, “What do you want Jesus to do for you?” but “What does Jesus want me to do for him?”

It is extremely difficult to put ourselves in the place of Bartimaeus by the side of the road outside the city of Jericho.  Never mind that we might find it difficult to imagine ourselves blind or a beggar; never mind that it goes against most of our New Englanders’ grain to make a commotion in a crowd: “Son of David, have mercy on me!”  It is extremely difficult to put ourselves in the place of Bartimaeus because we find it hard to imagine Jesus hearing our cries, standing still, calling us to him, and – when we are standing face to face with him – asking us “What do you want me to do for you?” 

It would be much easier for us to do something for Jesus than to have him do something for us.  We are competent, capable people.  We know how to do something, and we’re good at it.  With a little effort or perhaps a little better time management, we could certainly do something for Jesus! 

But Jesus doing something for us?  Jesus doing something for us is difficult.  We find it difficult not merely because it forces us to recognize our insufficiency, that we cannot go it alone without Jesus.  We find it difficult to imagine Jesus doing something for us because Jesus’ doing something for us would mean that we are not merely Jesus’ servants, called to do his bidding, but it would mean that we are his friends.  To be a servant is to be able to avoid the issues of relationship and choice.   Servants are servants because they have to, friends are friends because they choose to.  Servants hold the master at arm’s length; friends invite him near.  And friendship is the kind of relationship Jesus calls us into:  “I do not call you servants any longer…  but I have called you friends.” 

It is key in our relationship with Jesus that we not only do something for Jesus, but that we tell Jesus what he can do for us.  If our relationship with Jesus is only one of doing something for him, then we are merely Jesus’ servants; then we Christians are likely to be just another social-service organization trying to do good in the world.  But if we are willing to tell Jesus what he can do for us, then we can be his friends, then we have the possibility for relationship.  As friends, Jesus can do for us the greatest thing that a friend can do:  to lay down his life for us.  “No one has greater love than this, to lay down one’s life for one’s friends.”   And in this is the possibility for redemption.

I invite you this week to take home your order of service, to spend some time with today’s gospel passage.  Imagine yourself as Bartimaeus, begging by the side of the road, in need of Jesus.  All of us have in inner Bartimaeus, desiring to see the Lord.  Keep calling out to Jesus, and imagine Jesus standing still.  He is calling you to him.  You come closer, and he asks you “What do you want me to do for you?” 

In addition to an inner Bartimaeus, all of us likewise have an inner crowd of voices, as in today’s gospel lesson, sternly ordering our Bartimaeus to keep quiet.  The spiritual life is full of saboteurs who would keep us from relationship with Jesus.  When these inner saboteurs strike, remember Bartimaeus and call out all the more loudly, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!”

And if you are finding it difficult to imagine Jesus asking “What do you want me to do for you?”  know that you are not alone in your difficulty; half of my retreat group found it difficult, too!  I encourage you to tell Jesus of your difficulty.  See what he says.

Yesterday the vestry met for one of our twice-yearly “vestry mornings” to discuss what our hopes were for the coming year.  Many on the vestry said that what they hope for in the coming year was transformation.  All the things we talked about doing in order to be transformed – doing more faith sharing, participating in small groups, having “prayer buddies,” gathering weekly to pray for Trinity Parish, doing Bible study, saying Morning Prayer, enrolling in the catechumenate process – could be construed to be things we do for Jesus.  And so long as we think of these disciplines as things we do for Jesus, we will be inclined to regard ourselves as Jesus’ servants. If, however, we are able to see these activities as our “Jerichos,” the places where we set up to wait for Jesus to pass by, the places where we and call out, “Jesus, Son of David, have mercy on me!” and where Jesus calls us to come to him and asks us “What do you want me to do for you?” – if we are able to find these Jerichos in our lives, then our relationship with Jesus can deepen into one of friendship.  And as our friend, because of the great love he has for us, he will lay down his life for us, and we will have redemption.

“What do you want Jesus to do for you?” 

Sermon for Sunday, October 18, 2009
Chuck Hornberger

Holy, living, and loving God:  Your dream for all your children is that we be knit together in a community of love and justice, shalom and joy.  Open our eyes and our hearts to your presence in our midst and in one another; fill us with the Spirit of your son, Jesus, our savior, who pitched his tent among us, and in whose name we pray.  Amen.

That prayer is sometimes used as the opening prayer in a session of the Catechumenate, the new program at Trinity which has already transformed me and some other members of our parish community.  Had I not participated in the Catechumenate last spring, I never would have had the courage or ability to preach, but now I stand before you, hoping that my message may inspire some of you to take this same life-changing journey. 

The word catechumenate stems from the Latin catechumenus, or “instructed”.  In simple terms, the Catechumenate is a program of religious education designed for persons who wish to become baptized or to renew their baptismal vows, with the intent of becoming disciples of Christ.  Before I go into more details, I’d like to turn the clock back to the spring of 2008.  At a vestry meeting that spring, Father Miller expressed interest in having some representatives from Trinity attend the annual gathering of the North American Association for the Catechumenate (or NAAC), which was to be held in Seattle, Washington in July.  None of us had any idea at that time what the Catechumenate was, but Todd said that the program could be a great asset in helping Trinity revitalize and renew.  Three parishioners volunteered to attend with Todd, and he proceeded to make travel arrangements and obtain the necessary funds.  A week or so before we were to go to Seattle, one person had to drop out, but by the grace of God we were able to find a last-minute replacement.  On Thursday morning, July 24th, Todd, Sharon, Heidi and I left for the NAAC conference.  I don’t know about the other three, but I still had no clear idea of what I was going to be doing in Seattle.
            The annual gathering was held at the Dumas Bay Center, a former convent overlooking beautiful Puget Sound.  At least the location was inspirational!  The retreat itself was short, but intense.  It opened with a dinner at 6:00 PM on Thursday and ran practically non-stop through lunch on Saturday with keynote addresses, small group sessions, morning and evening worship services, workshops, and a general meeting of the NAAC organization.  But I remember our spirit as we left the conference and rode the van back to the airport for our return flight to Boston.   All four of us were extremely impressed with the conference sessions, and we were already very excited about the prospect of starting a Catechumenate program at Trinity, to the point that we began formulating ideas for the program before we had even arrived at the airport!
            At this point, I must pause to issue an apology to the congregation for an unforeseen tragedy.  After spending three days with Father Todd in Seattle, my habit of making bad puns apparently took its toll on him, and he began to retaliate.   In the airport there was a unique display of all sizes and shapes of animal tusks in a glass showcase.  We first noticed it Thursday upon our arrival, and we came upon it again on Saturday.  Having wondered about the variety of tusks and their artistic arrangement in the showcase, I asked Todd if he thought they were real.   Without batting an eye, Todd said, “How would rhino?”
            Well, back to the Catechumenate.  During the flight home, our enthusiasm about the program continued to grow, and we committed ourselves to developing a program at Trinity.  We met again on August 6th to discuss how we would report back to the vestry and parish about our experience, how we could sustain and nurture ourselves in what we had learned, and how we might implement the Catechumenate at Trinity as early as the fall of 2008.  We soon realized that having such a program ready by the fall was not feasible, but we met monthly to keep the momentum going and to inform the parish of the upcoming program, beginning with an article in the newsletter.
            The first series would involve a four-month journey of up to eight parishioners, including the four of us who went to Seattle.  It would begin soon after the Christmas season and continue through Easter, meeting two Wednesday evenings per month until Lent, when we would meet weekly.  Meetings would begin at 7:00 PM with attendance at the Eucharist, and then continue in the Sullivan Room until 9:30, including a snack break.
            Those participating would embark on a faith journey together, sharing their personal lives and growing in faith.  Each member would be partnered with another member, guiding each other and holding each other accountable to the steps of the process.  Learning, sharing, and growth in faith would be facilitated through Bible readings, prayer, attending worship services, exploring the foundations of the Episcopal Church, and incorporating these practices into daily life.
When I reflect back on the three objectives discussed at our August meeting, the most important one for me was that we sustain and nurture ourselves in what we had learned.   And the concept that impressed me most about the Catechumenate was that it is developed by and for lay persons, all of whom are equal in this journey together.  Whether we like to admit it or not, we all teach, and we all learn from each other as we share our stories without fear of judgment.  Even though I was baptized as an infant and have attended church regularly for over sixty years, I am no better – no holier – no less a sinner than someone who may be in the program to prepare for initial baptism.  In the passage from Hebrews this morning, we heard that
 
“Every high priest chosen from among mortals is put in charge of things pertaining to God on their behalf, to offer gifts and sacrifices for sins.  He is able to deal gently with the ignorant and wayward, since he himself is subject to weakness; and because of this he must offer sacrifice for his own sins as well as for those of the people.”   

In other words, in the marathon race to the Kingdom of God, we are ALL at the starting gate!
            Trinity’s first Catechumenate series began in January with five parishioners participating – the four of us who went to Seattle, and Carrie Burr.  Carrie was rather quiet and reserved, even somewhat uncomfortable during the first two sessions.  But then “the miracle” happened for her as well, as she experienced the communal nature, our equality in the eyes of God, and the presence of the Holy Spirit among us as we journeyed together.  We witnessed in Carrie that same magical transformation that the rest of us had experienced back in Seattle, and I might be so bold to say that it was like a resurrection!  All five of us have experienced it, and we so much want to share it with each of you through this wonderful program!
            Our series concluded on Saturday, May 16th at Grace Church Newton Corner with a rare experience, especially for the Diocese of Massachusetts.  That morning, when young persons from all over the Charles River Deanery were being confirmed into the Episcopal Church by Bishop Shaw, we five parishioners from Trinity – including two priests – reaffirmed our baptismal vows!   We were proud to represent Trinity at this occasion, but we were humble as well in recalling that we too are still at the starting gate in the heavenly marathon.  Personally, I was even more humble in June when I reaffirmed my baptismal vows again, this time with Bishop Harris.  It’s not that the reaffirmation at Grace Church didn’t take; it did.  But I could not pass up the second opportunity because it took place at the Jordan River by the Sea of Galilee.
            So, how do we enter the race?  How to we get to (or beyond) the starting gate?  Well, it’s not easy, and it doesn’t happen overnight.  The Catechumenate – this journey through which we are enlightened and transformed – requires personal sacrifice, service, and commitment to the journey by signing a covenant agreement.  Incidentally, we’ve changed the name from the Catechumenate to Growing Together in God, because that’s what we do on the journey.  For the coming year, we have added some “Come and See” sessions in addition to two full series of Growing Together in God.   The “Come and See” sessions are opportunities for you to “try out” the program for three Wednesday evenings without having to sign a covenant commitment for the complete series.  You can “Come and See” for three weeks starting in November, in January, or in June. 
I want to offer you a challenge this morning:  If you are willing to give up an hour or two per week from some other activity (or non-activity) and “Come and See” for three Wednesdays, I am willing to bet that you will want to dedicate yourself to Growing Together in God – this faith journey of sharing your personal life, growing in faith, and serving others as a disciple of Christ.  And when you are Growing Together in God, I guarantee that you will be rewarded beyond measure by the Holy Spirit – not for winning the race, but for simply stepping up to the starting line.  As Mark’s Gospel said,

“…whoever wishes to become great among you must be your servant, and whoever wishes to be first among you must be slave of all.  For the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life a ransom for many.”

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