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Trinity Episcopal Church
Trinity Sunday
May 31, 2015
“Here am I; Send me!”
Isaiah 6:1-8
This morning’s passage from the Prophet Isaiah describes Isaiah’s call to prophecy. The prophet’s description of his own call models to his readers an approach to recognizing the authentic call of God in the midst of changing and confusing cultural, political and religious circumstances. Even YHWH seems to wonder who will step forward in this situation. And yet Isaiah boldly responds: Here am I; send me. It is a great text for this year’s annual meeting.
As I approach the middle of my 12th year as your Rector, this is my 11th annual report to the parish. Last year at this time, during my sabbatical absence, our Warden Mark MacGougan delivered an extraordinary sermon that began, “What would you do if you went to the doctor’s office and were told you had five years to live?” I think that got everyone’s attention. He masterfully highlighted our strengths and challenges as a congregation, and he inspired us toward a positive way forward.
It bears pointing out that in the year since Mark’s sermon, I have been away for two and a half months on a scheduled sabbatical and, within one week of my return, was stricken with Whooping Cough, which is often fatal to infants and can be debilitating to adults with asthma. What we originally thought would be a one-to-two month absence extended into six months of illness. During this time my participation was not to be present among you, but to serve remotely as part of a management team led by our wardens and supported by my good friend Fr. Ben Brockman. While it was personally painful for me, there is good news in all this. When we as a congregation could have essentially put ourselves on “hold” until my return, our lay and assisting clergy leadership kept the congregation moving forward in virtually all aspects. While it may be true, as the Partners for Sacred Places report points out, that we perhaps lost a bit of momentum in certain areas during my absence, the fact is that upon my return, I have felt like I am running alongside a moving train and trying to figure out how to get back on. Thanks be to God for our lay and clergy leadership and for each and every one of you who has contributed to advancing the work of God through the ministries of Trinity Episcopal Church during this past year.
Since I wasn’t physically here for much of the year, I am not going to spend a lot of time this morning reviewing what everyone can read for themselves in the bound copies of the Annual Report. If you did not pick one up last week, they will be available once again prior to the start of the business portion of our meeting, along with copies of the Feasibility Study by Partners for Sacred Places. I do want to extend my profound thanks to our lay leaders, our dedicated parish staff, our assisting clergy and lay preachers and of course Fr. Ben Brockman for going above and beyond the call in keeping us all moving forward during my absence.
What I want to report to you this morning is about the future. Your work has paid off. If you notice in this year’s Wardens’ report, included in your materials, Mark and Percy talk about our congregation as entering a period of adolescence. Oh, the doctor’s projection is still true – the 5 years’ worth of endowment is now down to four years based on our present endowment draw to support our budget. And yet most of the indicators for a healthy congregation continue to point upwards. We’re growing, giving is up, spending is down, new ministries are developing and flourishing. So it is natural for you to ask, “How can this be that we are on the one hand facing impending financial disaster, and at the same time poised for growth?”
As part of my Doctor of Ministry work at Hartford Seminary I have come to experience firsthand what congregational development experts have known for decades: Every community of faith has a life cycle. If you take a look at the graphic in your service leaflet “The Congregational Life Cycle,” you will see that this life cycle – like a human life cycle –experiences periods of birth, growth, stability, instability, and decline. But unlike a human body, where the period of decline always ends in death, a corporate structure such as a church has choices other than eventual death. It has opportunities for redefinition, redevelopment and rebirth. And guess what, that’s what Jesus was talking about in John 3:3 when he answers Nicodemus, ‘Very truly, I tell you, no one can see the kingdom of God without being born from above.’ It is a spiritual rebirth that Jesus is talking about, and it is precisely that to which Jesus is inviting us at this point in Trinity’s history.
In many ways, Trinity has been in a period of instability and decline since 1999, which was the last time that Trinity lived within its means. That was the last time that Trinity drew under 6% on its endowment to support its operations. And while Jack Pearson will share with you the financial aspects of how we got to where we are today and the realities of our present budget, what I want to point out to you right now is that what the Partners for Sacred Places Report is telling us is this: By virtually every measure of congregational health, Trinity is presently in the middle stage on the visual – in a period of redefinition, redevelopment and rebirth. The only place that we are in “decline” is in the extent to which we rely on our ever-shrinking endowment for our general operating expenses and the upkeep of our buildings. And this is where we get to Mark’s “5 – now 4 – years to live” scenario.
Many of you are old enough to remember one of the game shows in the early days of television called “Beat the Clock.” The idea behind the game was that contestants had a period of time – like a minute or so – to complete one or more tasks. If they “beat the clock” and completed the tasks, they won the designated prize. If they didn’t “beat the clock” then they entered virtual death as they returned to their seats in the audience empty-handed.It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to convince you that as in most games, it is much more fun to win. And so it is that we are playing “Beat the Clock” with respect to our endowment. The Question becomes for us, how can we make The Parish of Trinity Church financially sustainable before the endowment “clock” runs out?
Your Vestry, Lay and Clergy leadership have seen this day coming for most of the 11 years I have been with you, and led us to commission the Cynthia Woolever Futuring Study conducted in 2006, the time management study we went through with The Rev. Richard Tombaugh in 2010, and the present Partners for Sacred Places feasibility study which you received last week. Each one of these efforts has brought us closer to a stronger and broader base of lay leadership. The good news from the Partners for Sacred Places study is that we are in most respects a very healthy and vibrant congregation. Their recommendations are that with some deliberate and sustained work over the next 12-18 months, we will be poised to mount an effective and successful capital campaign that will put a re-defined and re-developed Trinity into rebirth and financial sustainability. I hope we will have a fuller discussion of how this will play out at the designated point in our annual meeting.
A word here about another initiative that has been working over the past year and a half, the Mission Discernment Initiative Group. This group concluded it meetings in April and is now preparing a summary of its deliberations. Whereas the Partners for Sacred Places study was conducted by outside consultants looking in with the goal of providing some very practical recommendations, the MDIG is a group drawn from a cross-section of Trinity parishioners with the goal of understanding, from a theological perspective, who we are as the people of God and what we are as a congregation. Unlike our Vestry, which by canon is responsible for protecting the institution of the church, the members of the MDIG were specifically asked to think outside the box of the church we know, to study and reflect upon the models of the 1st century church – a study, I might add, that every mainline protestant denomination is presently undertaking. It is what Bishop Douglas has been asking us to do, and we are one of the few congregations that has actually undertaken such an effort on our own. Their work is but the very first phase of what will become a congregation-wide conversation about who and what we are called to be as a Eucharistic community of faith, the Body of Christ. Once their report is completed and reviewed by the group, we expect this to be the focal point of adult forums, preaching, and small group discussions over the next several years. Their work, and the many discussions that will flow from it, will help to guide our implementation of the Partners for Sacred Places recommendations.
And so, over the course of the next 12-18 months, I propose to lead you, arm in arm with our lay leadership, to implement the recommendations of the Partners report. This will include the following:
- Tell our story. We have a remarkable history, starting with being the first “free” church in Hartford in 1859 and recognizing – in practice and not just in theory – the innate equality of every child of God. We, each of us, and more formally as a congregation, need to articulate that story and share it throughout the region.
- We will offer two workshops to be held on a Saturday in the fall. One will be about preparing for a professionally-run capital campaign; the other will deal with ways in which we can share our space – including our worship space – with the wider community. These workshops will be offered for free by the Partners staff, and all parishioners will be invited and encouraged to participate. I also want to point out here that this in no way commits us to actually doing a capital campaign – it is simply exploratory so we are prepared if we decide we want to do a capital campaign in 12-18 months.
- Conduct a building conditions assessment and establish a space/use master plan for our expansive buildings. Such an evaluation will help guide our implementation of many of the other recommendations.
- Continue collaboration with community partners whose mission, vision and values align with our own. For over a year, I have been seeking another community of faith with a similar mission to our own to share in ministry and to share in the financial burden of maintaining our buildings and grounds. This past week, I called together the other Asylum Hill clergy to renew our own commitment to one another and to seek ways in which together we can further God’s mission here on Asylum Hill.
- As I have already indicated, we will build upon the MDIG conversations with total parish involvement and align them with the Partners recommendations.
- Communicate the diverse and important role that the parish plays in the life of our wider community. This involves articulating and advertising our parish’s important presence in our community, especially in our key areas of strength: Performing Arts, Education, Children/Families and Worship.
- Continue to expand and improve upon our social media presence by developing a formal strategy to do so. Over the past several years we have moved money that used to be spent on newspaper advertising into digital communications and social media. Virtually every visitor to this parish identifies the internet as the way they learned about us, and we ought to expand our reach.
- Continue to expand the pipeline of new leaders in the parish and create a mentoring strategy for same. Our Annual Team is a proven model of developing this form of leadership, and we need to model that to other ministry teams at Trinity. Each one of our ministry teams is a training ground for new and imaginative leadership.
- To continue to grow in financial stewardship. This year the fruits of our annual appeal are approximately $100,000 higher than they were 10 years ago, at nearly $380,000. For the second year in a row, more than half of our operating expenses are covered by current income and not endowment. As a congregation, we need to recommit ourselves to at least the goal, if not the actuality, of the 10% tithe. Our Annual Appeal team needs to continue and expand a year round conversation around stewardship. And we need to expand discussions around long-term Planned Giving by raising the profile of our Heritage Society, which has approximately 20 members at present. And as you can see in our weekly inserts, we need to keep the financial condition of the parish in front of the congregation throughout the year.
- Continue to articulate, and create opportunities to engage, the myriad opportunities for shared vision and mission of the Choir School, Trinity Academy and the parish. Among these proposals is to increase the visibility of the Choir School beyond the walls of the parish into the wider community, and Bert and I have been holding informal discussions as to what that might look like. Finally, we need to work on clarifying and articulating the relationship between the Parish, Choir School and Day School as mission-based partnerships rather than merely tangential or coincidental. They are investments in God’s mission.
11.And finally, we need to take better advantage of our rich history in the Hartford community and the historically-significant architecture of our buildings. Partners for Sacred Places started out 25 years ago as preservationists, and it is one of the aspects of our congregation that excites them about continuing to work with us. This is part of telling our story, and it can be done in a way that is vital and forward looking.
So that is what we are looking at for the coming 12-18 months. And we need to remember that this is not about “us.” It is about God’s desire for us to use our God-given gifts as investment capital for God’s mission not only on Asylum Hill but throughout our region and into the world. Those 1st century Christians thought the world was going to end in a few years, and yet they committed themselves to changing the world one soul at a time. As Paul reminds us in this morning’s Epistle: For all who are led by the Spirit of God are children of God. For you did not receive a spirit of slavery to fall back into fear, but you have received a spirit of adoption. When we cry, “Abba! Father!” it is that very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God, and if children, then heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ - if, in fact, we suffer with him so that we may also be glorified with him.
The plan we are laying out today by no means needs to include suffering, but it will be steady and continuous and always intentional, sometimes hard work. I, for one, am excited by it, and I hope you will be, too. Like Isaiah, we are presently in one of those times of cultural, political and spiritual change. If we believe that the work God has set before us is important, Jesus calls us to follow him, and to follow Isaiah, in responding, Here am I; send me.” And I invite all God’s people here this morning to respond: AMEN!
The Day of Pentecost May 24, 2015 Trinity Church, Hartford
The Rt. Rev. Andrew "Drew" Smith
What a time we are having here today! Look around at the red color - scattered all through the church. The joy of the hymns and anthems. The jumble of languages in the Scripture. Intoning. Incense. How about those bells?
As a country we celebrate Memorial Day weekend, appropriately remembering those who have served and died in warfare.
And, in addition, for Christians today is a special holiday. Absolutely. The Feast of Pentecost! On this day, God made a Spiritual miracle for all time: heaven, which at this time or that time had been opened a little for a while, to let God’s Spirit through — on Moses, the prophets, King David, on Jesus at his Baptism — on this day a new thing happened: the heavens were heavens unzipped, opened wide, and held wide open, and not for just a day, but for all time, always and forever!
Jesus promised it would happen: “I go to heaven, and so the Advocate, the Spirit will come to you.”
And then, come it did, wind and fire. and it caught the disciples locked in their upstairs room in Jerusalem, wondering what would be next, by surprise: 2And suddenly from heaven there came a sound like the rush of a violent wind, and it filled the entire house where they were sitting. 3Divided tongues, as of fire, appeared among them, and a tongue rested on each of them. 4All of them were filled with the Holy Spirit and began to speak in other languages, as the Spirit gave them ability. Unable to contain themselves, they poured out from their safe place into the streets, going up to everyone they met able to speak to each about Christ Jesus in ways each could understand.
The Spirit of God, unleashed, pouring, cascading from heaven, embracing the world in God’s presence, knowledge and holy love. The Spirit. Divinity. Holy Spirit. For all.
And the Spirit’s outpouring continued and continued and became a central reality and joy for the whole Church. Think of all the ways, all the works and blessings that the Holy Spirit brings.
First blessing, to enable, no to push, believers to get out — as it did the first disciples — into the streets to greet others and tell of the love which is of God. That same Spirit is here today, working,among us and so many others, to make us able, be equipped, to tell, show, do the works of the Gospel, so people anywhere can see it and hear it and be touched by God’s love in it. To the ends of the earth we are to go? It is the Spirit who takes us there and empowers us to stand up for the love of God in Jesus.
Wait, there’s more.
The Spirit gives us each working skills, to build up our Christian community, which we call “the Church.” In the Spirit, as Paul writes, each of us, every one of us, is given individual gifts — “Now there are varieties of gifts, but it is the same Spirit, and varieties of services,but the same Lord. To each is given a manifestation of the Spirit, for the common good. To one is given the utterance of wisdom through he Spirit, to another the utterance of knowledge, to another faith, to another the working of miracles, to another prophecy, to another discernment, to another various tongues, to still another the interpretation of tongues. Caregivers, teachers, generous givers, leaders, the compassionate. All activated by the one Spirit, who gives to each one individually as the Spirit chooses.” (I Corinthians 12, Romans 12)
Each once of us, gifted in the Spirit, our skills joined with others’, each of us different and each necessary members like the parts of a body, making for the full complement of blessings that a community needs to be in communion with God’s love and presence and engaged in God’s purpose.
The Spirit’s push to get us out; the Spirit’s gifts sufficient to create a holy community. There’s more.
There also are the personal gifts that make the Church work well, to God’s glory. John the Baptizer urged those who came to him to bear fruits worthy of the new life. Paul in this morning’s section from Romans, called them the first fruits of the Spirit, and he numbered them (Galatians 5) — Live by the Spirit, I say .. the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, self control. No law against these! Look at the window in the Baptistry and see the seven great virtues radiating out around the dive. If we live by the Spirit, wrote Saint Paul, let us also be guided by the Spirit. Not to think more highly of ourselves than we ought. To forgive as we have been forgiven. The list goes on …
The personal gifts from the Holy Spirit are the divine virtues, the oil in the engine if you will which makes the community hum and build itself up in God’s work and life, in love.
All of these blessings — the commission to get out of our safe place to bring God’s good news to others, the various working gifts given to each, and the very attributes of God’s personality shining within us, all given through the love of Christ Jesus, who holds open the gate of heaven and enables the Holy Spirit not just to spit out, occasionally, on a prophet here, a leader there, but to pour out, abundantly without stopping, on everyone, over and on the whole world.
How does it come? In Baptism the Spirit is given for sure; think of that as we rehearse our hopes and promises this morning. But the evidence of Scripture, and I think our own experience of God tell us that God’s Spirit is not limited to Baptism, since God cannot be limited by whether we baptize or not.
On this Day of Pentecost It has been unleashed, this Holy Spirit, praise be to God, and it is at work in all sorts of places, among all sorts of people, and (we pray) especially among those who in Christ actively seek the Spirit, who even helps us to pray, to make us, together, an Engine for moving the good news of God’s love into the whole creation.
In that light, Can you identify the fruits of the Spirit in your person? (love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, self control.). Are there some which describe you? Are there some that could, with advice, prayer and practice, be cultivated, nourished, and grow into maturity?
Can you name the gifts for our mission given you in the Spirit? Each one of us, Have we ever named our Spiritual gifts? You do have them! Wouldn’t it be something grand if we got together, perhaps in the proverbial small groups, and each helped one another identify and name the gifts with which the Spirit has entrusted you for God’s work?
And then, where is it, to whom is it, when is it, that God has equipped you in the Spirit to carry the Gospel — words, action, presence? That’s not something that just an ordained minister does: if the Gospel truly is to reach the ends of the earth, it’s the divine commission for every person who knows and calls on the name of Jesus.
And as you might work to answer this question, be warned: the Spirit does blow where it wills, and where it might send you might catch you by surprise: the book club or tennis group or classroom or friendship gathering to which you belong; the gym, the day care center, the next door neighbor; the people of Bushnell Park or Avon or Blue Hills or Congo or South Marshall Street or India; a hospital, a prison or juvenile detention center: who knows where God’s Spirit might want you to cary the Gospel. Could we also help one another discern the Spirit’s much for each of us?
There is so much to explore when we begin to celebrate and to talk seriously and deeply about God the Holy Spirit.
Hail Thee Festival Day! Shout the psalms, sing the hymns, fall into the prayers, speak the languages, ring the bells, Rejoice.
For heaven is held wide open, and the Spirit of God is poured out then and now, here, on us and in us and around us, in powerful love, as a divine blessing forever. Hallelujah!
Sermon for Easter 4B; April 26, 2015
Acts 4:5-12, 1 John 3:16-24, John 10:11-18
Marie Alford-Harkey, M.Div.
Trinity Episcopal Church, Hartford CT
My friend Sharon who helped plan an interfaith worship service about marriage equality that will take place tonight in Washington DC, wrote about why that was important to her. She says that we have “to seize the awesome opportunity of creating a Holy moment in the political calendar… we as a people also need faith rituals … that ground us in our connectedness and provide us a moral compass for our collective mandate to make the world a better place. We need opportunities to intentionally realign our justice work to the sacred; to commit again and again and again to live our lives in such a way that justice radiates out from what is most Holy.”
This weekend, in this worship service, we’re taking the time to recognize some important justice work. Trinity is taking part in the YWCA’s Stand Against Racism weekend and in the National Weekend of Prayer for the Freedom to Marry.
These aren’t easy subjects to address in church. Talking about racism, homophobia, transphobia, sexism, and all forms of oppression is not generally comfortable. People are likely to disagree, say things that hurt each other, or offend someone. That’s why I’m so grateful for this community. Here at Trinity, we try not to take the easy way out. We’ve had conversations right here in this sanctuary about racism and how it affects members of our community and the wider community.
And from the pulpit we hear preachers (not just George and me) speak out in favor of equal rights for lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender people. Honestly, there is nowhere that these conversations belong more than in the church. When we speak these prophetic words from our pulpits and in our prayers, we claim the boldness that we have been given in the Holy Spirit.
Jesus’ ministry taught the disciples how to do this. As their shepherd, over and over and over again, he taught them through parables, he performed miracles, and he loved them and treated them as friends. They did indeed know his voice, for they had heard it and followed it for three solid years.
That doesn’t meant that the disciples always got things right. They didn’t start off performing healing miracles and standing up to religious leaders. On the contrary, the apostles that we meet in Acts are the same disciples whom Jesus called “ye of little faith.” The same ones who couldn’t stay awake in the garden. Peter is the same guy who proclaimed three times “I did not know the man.” These are the same disciples who were cowering, afraid, in a locked room when the women came to tell them that Jesus wasn’t in the tomb. And even after Peter saw the empty tomb for himself, the gospel of John tells us that “the doors were locked in the room where the disciples were, for fear of the Temple authorities.” These were some scared disciples in the gospels, my friends.
But here, in Acts, in Jerusalem, we see Peter standing up to those same Temple authorities. The very authorities who handed Jesus over to the state to be put to death – Annas and Caiaphas – are the ones who have now arrested Peter. And when he’s asked, “By what power and in whose name have you done this?”
Peter, filled with the Holy Spirit, responds with authority, and clarity. He proclaims boldly, “Rulers of the people and elders, if we are questioned today because of a good deed done to someone who was sick and are asked how this man has been healed, let it be known to all of you, and to all the people of Israel, that this man is standing before you in good health by the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, whom you crucified, whom God raised from the dead. This Jesus is `the stone that was rejected by you, the builders; it has become the cornerstone.' There is salvation in no one else, for there is no other name under heaven given among mortals by which we must be saved."
This does not sound like a guy who’s afraid.
When I imagine Peter in that moment, I picture him a lot like Rev. Osagyefo Sekou, spoke at the Moral Monday black lives matter protest here in Hartford back in February. He’s a black Pentecostal preacher, author, and activist from St. Louis, Missouri who’s been on the front lines of the black lives matter movement organizing clergy in Ferguson, Missouri. Now this is a person who speaks with some holy boldness.
Reverend Sekou said that if we understand Jesus as someone born to an unwed teenage mother in an unimportant country in an unimportant part of the world…we understand that Jesus is in the streets of Ferguson.
He says that every time young activists stand in the streets and refuse to bow down, every time someone refuses to live in a closet, this is resurrection. He says that the blood of Michael Brown might be our salvation because it has inspired the black lives matter movement and it is a movement led by young people and black people and LGBTQ people and women.
And I am certainly not doing him justice. The man was on FIRE. He was brilliant and inspiring. I could have listened to him for an hour, but he only spoke for about 5 minutes. When he was done, I was ready to go out and protest.
Most of us are not Peters or Rev. Sekou’s. But -- have you ever had that moment when you weren’t prepared to speak, but you were so passionate about a subject that the words just poured out of you? I’ve heard many of you speak passionately about the things that matter to you. That passion that animates us, that passion that stirs us to eloquent, holy, prophetic speech doesn’t come without some work.
I have always been passionate about a lot of things. (I know you’re all shocked to hear this.) And these days, I can speak about some of them at the drop of a hat. But that didn’t happen without preparation. Before I was a teacher, before I was part of a teacher’s union, I could not have spoken with authority about how teacher evaluations should never be tied to test scores. Before I went to seminary and began to do the work of examining my white privilege, I could not have spoken with conviction about racist systems and my role in them. Before I became an LGBTQ activist and was mentored by my forbears in the movement, I could not have spoken with passion about marriage equality or the marginalization of transgender and bisexual people.
Just like the disciples, I had to learn my way. I had to spend time with people who knew the work so that I would eventually be as prepared as I could be to carry it on. So that I could have a moment of eloquence once in a while. And while I don’t know this for sure, I’m willing to bet that’s true for Rev. Sekou as well.
In Luke chapter 12, Jesus promises the disciples that “when they bring you before the rulers, the authorities, the synagogues, don’t worry about what you will say. The Holy Spirit will teach you at that moment all that you need to say.” But it’s not magic. Jesus spent his entire ministry getting the disciples ready to hear what the Holy Spirit would teach them in those moments.
Peter went from being a scared disciple to a prophetic apostle because of the Holy Spirit. And despite the years of preparation that got him to that moment before Annas, Caiaphas and the other high priests, I’m sure he was scared. After all, he didn’t have a great track record yet. And I’m sure that even as he was speaking, he was questioning the wisdom of angering high powered religious leaders.
But the Holy Spirit showed up for Peter, just as Jesus had promised. And in that moment, Peter proclaimed his truth with boldness and confidence. We are prepared as well, by being in this community, by following Jesus in our daily lives and work, by listening to the wise and wonderful people around us. May we all be bold enough to trust the Holy Spirit to show up to counter our fear and give us Holy, prophetic words whenever we need them. Amen.
April Alford-Harkey, M.Div.
Sermon for Easter 2B, April 12, 2015
Trinity Episcopal Church, Hartford, CT
For the disciples seeing and touch lead to believing.
We are told in John’s Gospel that Thomas was not present when Jesus first appeared to the disciples, in The Upper Room. When Thomas arrives, the disciples tell him that they have seen the Lord, but Thomas is not convinced. He states he won’t believe unless he sees Jesus for himself and touches Jesus’ wounds. Thomas wanted proof and validation that the human man he knew as friend and teacher had actually come back.
Through the ages, Thomas has gotten a bad reputation for doubting and his need for physical confirmation of the resurrected Christ. But I think that’s not fair.
It shouldn’t have surprised the disciples that Thomas requested more proof. After all, these are the same disciples who did not believe Mary Magdalene when she told them the tomb was empty. It wasn’t until Jesus showed the disciples his hands and his side that we are told those other disciples “rejoiced”.
It makes sense that Thomas and the disciples needed to see and touch Jesus. We humans use touch, taste, smell, sight and hearing to make sense of the world around us. Our senses help us perceive and process what is happening. We depend on our senses and the knowledge they provide to us.
That is nowhere more evident than in my work as a chaplain to special needs adults, children, and their staff and caregivers. I have seen that… love is made real to people through their senses---especially touch. I have learned that a pat on the back, eye contact, and a touch of a hand can convey love.
After three years on my job, I realized that I wanted to expand my ministry. I needed a way to reach the participants who perceive the world differently than the rest of us. The ones who can’t communicate clearly with language, the ones whose bodies don’t function like the rest of us, who can’t touch and be touched as easily as others.
I have long understood the mystical relationship that occurs between animals and humans. I often say that my cat, Memphis, got me through the roughest parts of seminary and of my chaplain residency when I was on my own down in Atlanta.
I first learned about ministry dogs when I ran into a priest with a dog at a funeral. I was curious about why a priest would have a dog, so I did a little research and learned about ministry dogs.
I realized that a ministry dog would allow me to connect to non-verbal participants, those on the autism spectrum, and others who have a different way of perceiving and communicating with the world. I knew that a ministry dog would be able to provide special needs participants with an unconditional loving presence, and a much needed opportunity to experience loving touch.
And so I applied to NEADS (National Education for Assistance Dog Services) for a ministry dog. In my application, I said, “We all know the mystical relationship that often occurs between animals and humans. A ministry dog will allow me to connect to non-verbal participants, those on the autism spectrum and others who have a difficult time communicating with the world. The ministry dog will also provide special needs participants with an unconditionally loving presence, and an often much needed opportunity to experience loving touch.”
When I got the call that NEADS had accepted my application and wanted me to come for an interview I was ecstatic. I drove to Princeton, Massachusetts for a two-hour interview where the "matchmaker" from NEADS asked me about my ministry, the layouts of the buildings where I worked, my home, my spouse, and my other pets. I also met with financial specialist who asked me how I would raise the $9,500 contribution to NEADS to help offset the $25,000 it costs to train a service dog. I said I wasn’t sure, but that I knew that if they found me a dog, I would find a way. They told me they would let me know when they had a suitable dog, and that it could take as long as a year and a half to find one.
But two weeks later I got a call from NEADS saying they had a dog for me. Marie and I were shocked and excited. We started looking at dog beds and bowls and blankets – you would have thought we were having a child. Over the next few weeks we learned that my dog’s name was Sandy, and that I would go to the NEADS facility to be trained with her during Holy Week.
I arrived at NEADS on the evening of Palm Sunday. The first time I met Sandy, I knew she had a powerful ministry. She didn’t know me but was kind and loving. Throughout our training week, Sandy worked hard for me and gave her best.
One of the most important parts of the week was the opportunity to meet the man who had trained Sandy. You may have heard that sometimes people in prison train service dogs, and NEADS uses that model. I was touched to meet the person who was strong enough to let go of a dog he raised for twenty months.
In order to meet Hector, I had to go to a medium security prison in Massachusetts. I had no trepidation about going to the prison. I knew if the prison was the place Sandy was trained that there must be a lot of love there.
When I entered the meeting room there were twelve men sitting in a semi- circle, each with a dog by his feet. Hector, Sandy’s trainer, didn’t have his new dog with him, so Sandy situated herself between the two of us and laid down. Her head ended up on Hector’s feet, and her butt on mine.
The men were there with their dogs to hear about the work Sandy would be doing out in the world. Each man introduced himself, his dogs and described the type of service dog they were training. I fought back tears when I told the men the type of ministry Sandy would be doing: that she would be working at The Feroleto Children’s Development Center twice a week and how she would see approximately a hundred severely disabled children on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and how she would be working at Changing Images, an adult special needs program, on Monday, Wednesday and Friday. We were all weepy knowing that Sandy would be out in the world touching so many lives.
Several men told me that training the dogs gave them a sense of accomplishment and was also a way to give back to the world. The men talked about how people always thank them when they are actually the ones who are grateful. They told me that the dogs lift their spirits and give them something to focus on.
Hector’s eyes smiled when he talked about and the type of dog Sandy is. He told me that Sandy is a princess. She sits with her paws crossed and her favorite fruits are bananas and apples. All the men agreed that Sandy is a silly dog and when she is happy you can see her smile. I left the prison humbled by my meeting with Hector and the other men. I am proud that Sandy has a group of men praying and cheering her on.
We have only been together for a week and a day. I have already seen how important it is for people to be able to touch this loving, gentle creature. Sandy breaks down barriers of disability, class, social standing, race and gender. She knows no condition or people who aren’t worthy of her attention and love.
When I took Sandy to work the supervisor of the Feroleto Center Children’s Center told me about a teenager who I’ll call Nick, who had recently been taken out of his home and placed in our children’s residential house. When he lived at home, Nick had a dog that slept next to him every night. So the supervisor asked if Sandy and I could arrange to visit Nick in his class room.
I went into Nick’s classroom and introduced Sandy to him. Nick looked at Sandy out of the corner of his eye. After five minutes Sandy and I walked across the room to sit on a mat. We were interacting with another student while she stretched.
Nick came across the room and sat at the edge of the mat. I moved Sandy closer to him. Nick sat perfectly still next to Sandy. What you need to know about Nick is that he is an extremely active young man. He is never still even when he sits down. The classroom teacher told me she had never seen Nick sit as still as he did with Sandy.
He reached out hesitantly and put his hand on Sandy, then quickly pulled it back. Then he reached out again, put his hand on her side and left it there. It was so moving to see him with her.
Two days later Sandy and I went back to visit Nick and Nick grabbed my arm and pulled me down into the chair next to him. Until I brought Sandy to the classroom, Nick had never interacted with me or given me eye contact. For Nick, I didn’t exist as a chaplain until I had Sandy as a part of my ministry.
Just like Nick, Thomas and the disciples needed a physical experience. They needed to touch Jesus to understand his loving presence among them after the resurrection. For the people I work with, Sandy provides a similar presence – they can touch her, and know the power of unconditional love.
April 3, 2015
Good Friday; Trinity Church Hartford
Rev. Dr. Frank Kirkpatrick
All the events we celebrate in the Christian calendar are, each in its own way, seen through the lens of human interpretation. Those who remembered Jesus and those who collected those memories and wrote them down were contributing to the various interpretations of what his life, and especially on this day of Good Friday, his death meant to his earliest followers and the church which succeeded them. Unfortunately, in my opinion, the dominant interpretation of Jesus’ death contains some unexamined, disturbing, and troubling views about God that distort, even pervert, what the death of Jesus could mean to us today. There is, I will suggest, an alternative interpretation of the death of Jesus that modifies the view of God in the dominant interpretation and places Jesus’ death into a different and less problematic narrative.
Let me remind you of the reigning interpretation of Jesus’s brutal death on a cross. This interpretation has a variety of nuances within it but they are all variations on the same theme. And that theme is that God required someone to die a bloody death so that God could then forgive the sins of humankind. Because humanity sinned against God, God demanded his pound of flesh in compensation. And since human sin was infinitely vile, the pound had to be of infinite worth to pay for it. In fact, it had to be a truly innocent and sinless life. And only God’s own son could meet that standard and so he had to die so that we could live. And finally this whole scenario had to have been planned by God ahead of time, at least from the moment sin entered into the world with the fall of Adam and Eve.
Now I don’t mean to be disrespectful of this traditional view of God often set forth on Good Friday, or at least I don’t want to critique it without offering another, and in my opinion better, interpretation of this event that is still true to the essential meaning of the Christian narrative.
The assumption behind the pound of flesh theme is that God’s honor, or reputation as a divine being was in some way tarnished by the sin of Adam and Eve. Such a besmirching of the divine honor then required someone to pay for it, to compensate for it, or as it was put theologically, to atone for it. The sin of Adam and Eve was assumed to be universal, pervasive and endemic in all human beings who were born after Adam and Eve. “In Eve’s fall we sinned all” as the Puritans used to put it, referencing the doctrine of original sin which asserted that everyone is born sinful and no one can attain salvation without God’s forgiving grace. But in the dominant interpretation of Good Friday someone had to pay the price of human sinfulness because it was an affront to God. And that someone had to be the one who had harmed God’s honor in the first place. And that had to be a human being. And so the Church eventually came up with an interpretation of the death of Jesus as an atonement in which a human being (Jesus) could substitute himself for all humankind, even though he was innocent of sin, and offer himself up to God (since his divine nature was of infinite worth and thus had to be accepted by God as full payment for human sin). In the transaction of the cross God’s demand that someone pay him for the dishonor which his creatures had done through their sins would be met and God’s anger appeased.
I have to confess that I find serious problems with this theological interpretation of Good Friday. It seems to present us with a God who cannot be satisfied unless an innocent person is sacrificed in order to appease the wrath of God at being dishonored. This view of God makes God seem more like a vengeful tyrant willing to order child-sacrifice in order to satisfy something in himself. (And the doctrine became known as the doctrine of satisfaction). This view of God makes the divine Father even less appealing than a sinful but repentant and compassionate human father who forgives the sins of his wayward children without demanding that they sacrifice themselves to appease him. The psychological implications of the idea of a divine father demanding retribution from his children through their deaths or the death of someone representing them, are chilling, especially when they have been used by some human fathers to justify treating their children with severity and abusive punishment.
It’s interesting to note that the Good Friday gospel we have just heard does not explicitly invoke the atonement by sacrifice motif. But that motif became an important part of the Christian theological tradition through the work of an 11th century monk by the name of Anselm of Canterbury. A creature of medieval culture, Anselm pictured God as a princely monarch or Lord whose status or honor in that culture was dependent on those below him in the social pecking order acknowledging their Lord’s superior status. Respecting the Lord’s honor required the subservience and abasement by those lower down the hierarchical order of status. But if a lower status person failed to obey the higher status person’s commands, the latter’s honor was impeached. And such an insult to his honor required satisfaction or repayment for the insult. Anselm argued that sinful human beings “owed” God a repayment for their sins whose very existence was a constant reproach to God. In a fine if tortured example of medieval scholastic logic, Anselm then argued that since what was owed to God was infinite (since God’s honor was infinite) it would take an infinite being of infinite worth to pay it. But since only finite beings actually owed that debt to God, since only human beings had acted sinfully and incurred the guilt of sin, it would take a being who was at the same time both infinite and finite to pay it to God. Hence, Anselm concluded, the logic of atonement required an innocent divine but also human being to die in order to appease God’s anger at the besmirching of his honor. Thus we get the theological justification for thinking of Jesus as both divine and human simultaneously.
Jesus was not a mindless puppet in this drama. His perfect divine will freely accepted the fate ordained for him by God and he willingly offered himself up to God in payment for the sins humanity had committed. And because he was himself guiltless, God could accept Jesus’ offering of his innocent life as sufficient payment for humanity’s sins and, having received the payment, could now forgive the sins of humanity because the divine honor had now been satisfied.
One can certainly see the attraction of this view: humanity gets forgiven, God is satisfied, and we can get on with our lives in thanksgiving to God for what God has done for us. But, there is a serious price we pay for this theological explanation of Good Friday. And that price is a view of God that is cold, formal, and harsh. God is pictured as a remote lordly tyrant whose well-being or honor is damaged to the extent that someone must pay for the damage. This is a God pictured almost exclusively in terms of the formal justice of the law court, a justice that is blind to compassion and mercy, a justice that manifests itself by the rigorous and impersonal standards of accusation, guilt, retribution, and repayment. This is not a God who can transcend characterization as a medieval monarch and break free from the legal constraints of who owes what to whom. This is not a God who loves and forgives without exacting someone’s death as the price for that forgiveness.
But there is another interpretation of the death of Jesus which, I believe, takes us closer to the heart of God, a heart that is not defined by the strict standards of justice, a heart that is closer to the real God, the God of compassion, love, and mercy. This is a God who loved the world so much that he sent his son Jesus into it to reveal and to embody, literally to incarnate in and through his words and life, the true meaning of God’s love for humankind. He did not predetermine or predestine his son to die a bloody death in order to appease the divine wrath or restore the divine honor, but instead to show, if it comes to that, how death can be meaningfully met, not on legal terms, as demanding retaliation, but on the terms of forgiveness such as Jesus mercifully offered to the thief on the cross next to his. In this interpretation of Good Friday Jesus was not predestined by God before time began to die in this way. Instead, we might suggest, his death was the result of human jealousy and fear on the part of those whose earthly power and honor were being threatened by the new life and new way of being that Jesus taught and embodied. Jesus’ willingness to trust in the power and love of God rather than in the political and economic powers of the world which are built on fear and domination and discrimination and injustice earned him the wrath of those who wielded these powers. It was these powers, and those who controlled and administered them, and not the will of God, that couldn’t stand the threat Jesus posed to the status quo which was built and defended on the basis of unjust privilege and oppression. And so Jesus dies at the hands of the fearful. And yet in his death he demonstrates how one can face one’s death if one is willing to live according to what God intends for humankind: to preach the coming of the Kingdom and to point to new life for those still under the sway of the old life built on the threats of death and exclusion from power. The people of Jesus’ time had the choice of accepting Jesus as a window into the heart of God or of rejecting him as a challenge to their pursuit of self-interest and the retention of worldly power. Those in power chose to reject him not because God had written the script and required Jesus’ death but because particular powerful human beings, using their free will which God chose not to annul, were writing the script in defense of their practices of injustice. And where was God in all this? The message of Good Friday is that God was with Jesus not only through the agony of his death but also into the joy of his resurrection. God was with Jesus on Good Friday, as God will be for us at the moment of our death, not as the one who commands it but as the one who suffers through it with us and brings us safely out the other side into resurrection and everlasting new life. Through the promise of resurrection we are also invited to face our own deaths with hope and trust and confidence that even death cannot separate us from the love of God in Jesus Christ our Lord. Good Friday is always followed by Easter Sunday because that is the glorious mystery of divine love. The final word is not a bloody sacrifice to appease the divine anger, but the final word is love even in the midst of death.
Maundy Thursday; April 2, 2015
Trinity Episcopal Church, Hartford
The Rev. Bonnie Matthews, Deacon
Exodus 12:1-4 (5-10) 11-14
I Corinthians 11:23-26
John 13:1-17, 31b-35
Psalm 116: 1, 10-17
In the name of Jesus Christ; Lover, Teacher, Friend and Savior
In his Lenten message, Father Don invited us into action with daily prayer and holy service to others through the practice of performing at least one act of kindness a day throughout Lent. Well Lent is almost over, but the disciplines we may have practiced or the lessons we have learned should not come to an end.
From our Gospel this evening we heard that we are to serve others, not only as a Lenten discipline but as Jesus would have us do.
John 13:12-17 After he had washed their feet, had put on his robe, and had returned to the table, he said to them, "Do you know what I have done to you? You call me Teacher and Lord--and you are right, for that is what I am. So if I, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet. For I have set you an example, that you also should do as I have done to you. Very truly, I tell you, servants are not greater than their master, nor are messengers greater than the one who sent them. If you know these things, you are blessed if you do them.
Just three weeks ago, in his sermon Bishop Drew reminded us that the risen Christ still lives. In his sermon, Drew named us the Body of Christ, the Temple of the Holy Spirit.
Because for me this is so central to our gospel this evening I would like to quote Drew.
”Through us, may God’s glory and mercy, whose foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, whose weakness is stronger than human strength, may God’s glory be shown, not with monuments of marble and gold, or brick and stone and wood, all of which erode and decay, and fall down. Rather may God’s glory and merciful love shine because above all else we seek simply and always, wherever we are, to meet God in Christ. And as we do, may our lives so shine, radiant, with the divine presence and love, that God will be made plain, glorious, for all the world to see.”
And here is what my heart heard:
We are the temple of God. Through us, every day, everyone we meet has the opportunity to meet God. While we should be concerned about our building and how it functions, each one of us, as a member of God’s Temple is called to humbly reflect God’s love for all humanity.
John 13: 34-35 Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another."
Do we serve as Jesus served? Do we love as Jesus loved? Do we place ourselves last rather than first? Do we love one another regardless of race, class, ethnicity, sexual orientation, and religion or economic status? What does that love look like?
Here within the walls of Trinity I think we do. I challenge you to reflect how you serve and love outside the protection of this building. How do we as individuals show God’s love for creation and our brothers and sisters in the world?
This year Bishop Laura Ahrens and ECCT Deacons’ Council requested that deacons throughout CT read and reflect on the book Hand to Mouth Living in Bootstrap America written by Linda Tirado as part of our Lenten Discipline.
Throughout this book Linda frankly and boldly discusses openly how she went from lower-middle class, to sometimes middle class, to poor and everything in between, and in doing so she reveals why “poor people don’t always behave the way middle-class America thinks they should.”
This book challenges people in middle and upper class America to rethink their preconceived notions. This challenge was directed at me.
Little did I know at that time how this book was going to both affirm and challenge my ministries or my daily life.
Until I read this book, I hadn’t really given much thought to the privilege I have working a full time (40 hours per week job) with medical benefits. Linda’s words made me conscious of this privilege.
There are places in this book where Linda writes about what it means to work in service. Service may be as a waitress, a clerk in a store or bartending. Almost always only 20-30 hours a week at minimum wage. Sometimes it’s less money with a guarantee of tips to meet the minimum wage. She speaks openly of some service jobs being employed at will. In other words, some people have to sign agreements to work at the will of the employer. One may have to start work early, leave late, or sign an agreement that they will not work for others at the same time. Work schedules may be posted late, not allowing the worker to plan or arrange a second work schedule.
Linda writes that regardless of her mood she may not be “checked into work”. She may be calculating how much extra she will make if she stays an hour or two, she may be worrying if it’s not busy if she may be sent home early losing pay, or if she’ll be allowed to leave in time to pick up her children or be able to make it in time to her other job. Almost always, she is relying on public transportation schedules or a car that breaks down frequently.
Linda’s description of not being “checked into work” challenged me to think about what it means to work in service. I am ashamed to say that on occasions I have not given thought to those who literally serve me and how I in turn respond or serve them.
I believe I am not alone in my response.
Here is my story:
I’m a busy woman. I have my vocational work as a deacon, I work full time at Hartford Hospital, I’m a homeowner, and I am a grandmother, a friend, and a confidant. I embrace my life and the lives of those I love. I take pride in my work and in my home life.
Because I have little time there are things that I don’t like to do. While I like to cook for myself and for others I don’t like to take time to grocery shop. I do this out of necessity and usually at the end of a long week.
One weekend this past February I had to forego my routine of shopping on a Friday. What I didn’t think about was traveling to the grocery store with what seemed to be hundreds of shoppers stocking up for yet another Sunday to Monday snowstorm.
There I was picking through already picked over and bruised produce and waiting for what seemed to be hours at the deli counter just to get a third of a pound of cheese and lunch meat. Then on through the aisles to attempt to find milk that was not going to expire within the next day or two. After all, no one would be able to get through the snow to pick up milk and bread.
Having completed my selections it was time to check out.
To my dismay there were only two checkouts available for those of us who had more than 10 items or had not picked up one of those gadgets that electronically tally your grocery costs as you put your items into bags while you shop. I surveyed the lines and got into the line that had more carts but they were carts that had fewer groceries. The lights signaling open checkouts were on.
You see I have a strategy to be in the store less than a half hour and here I was going on fifty minutes of grocery store time before checking out. Time went on and I was in line for fifteen minutes.
I was just about to place my groceries on the conveyor belt when the cashier said. I’m closed. End of story. I wasn’t happy, I wasn’t kind and I was not proud of my behavior as I argued that I had been in line, there were people behind me and I didn’t want to go to another line. My time was valuable…… I didn’t let it go there. I tracked down a manager and forced my opinion of the stores business practices on him. Both he and the cashier just stood there mutely until he apologized and I waited in yet another line……. I’m not certain what I accomplished there except to make a fool of myself.
You see, I felt offended that I their most important customer did not receive appropriate customer service. ….Until I read Hand To Mouth.
I was not present to my surroundings except those surroundings that were or were not to my advantage.
I was not thinking about what anyone providing service to me was going through:
Perhaps the store was experiencing an unusual amount of customers that the business was not prepared to handle.
Perhaps the cashier had been on her feet for several hours without a break, or maybe she needed to leave for another job or to get her children from childcare.
Most undoubtedly they may be a service person who has to hear customers complain about selections of produce or exorbitant pricing that he/she can do nothing about it.
I tell you this story because I know this was not the first time nor will it be the last time I am not or wasn’t present to my surroundings. Sometimes it’s easier to focus on doing right when we are faced with “big” things. However we are called to love our neighbor during the mundane comings and goings of our lives.
Thankfully I don’t have many lapses in being present to others, but they are there. When I have those lapses my kindness does need to be intentional toward others.
Now when I offer prayer, I ask that God teach me how to be an example of his love in the world. And when I fail because I am human, I ask to be forgiven and held in God’s love
In a few moments we will be invited to remember the humility of Christ and his expectation of service among us during our foot washing service. Whether we partake of this service or meditate in prayer let us remember Jesus’ invitation to:
Meet with the humble and the poor
Listen to the voices of those who have nothing to lose
Give of ourselves with compassion and humility in order for idols of power and status to be cast down
Love, Love one another as God has loved us.
Amen
Rev. Dr. Dennis Winkleblack
Trinity Episcopal Church, Hartford, CT
March 29, 2015
Sunday of the Passion: Palm Sunday, Year B
Mark 11:1-11, Isaiah 50:4-9a, Psalm 31:9-16, Philippians 2:5-11 , Mark 14:1-15:47
Today is an unusual day in the church. From a gospel of jubilant beginnings with palm branches and hosannas aplenty to the concluding portion of our worship where we witness the sad account of Jesus’ trial, and the lasting remembrance of that sacred head wounded. It’s an unusual, mysterious day.
But, then, long ago it was an unusual, mysterious week: from palms on the first day to a crown of thorns on the 6th; hosannas to curses; king to criminal; seeming triumph to seeming tragedy.
It was an unusual, mysterious week – a week we now call Holy Week.
To the average member of the crowd welcoming Jesus to Jerusalem on that first day of the week long ago, his entry from the east through the Garden of Gethsemane was clearly a day of high celebration, anticipation and hope. Palm branches were waved, coats were thrown into the street like patchwork red carpets, in imitation of the same royal festal procession held for Israel’s kings in the past.
What is less well known to us, though starkly obvious to every member of the crowd, is that the Roman Governor Pontius Pilate had recently, maybe even no more than a day before, maybe even the same day, also entered Jerusalem. He, however, came from the west having arrived from Caesarea Maritima.
And why was he visiting? Because it was Passover Week. His bottom line purpose was to shore up the garrison on the Temple Mount, and, no less, to remind the throngs of Jews who had come from all over Israel just who was in charge.
The pomp must have been tremendous. Imagine it: Pilate on horseback at the head of a large contingent of soldiers all armed to the teeth wearing heavy armor while other soldiers beat drums whose sounds reverberated loudly among Jerusalem’s limestone structures. You couldn’t have missed it; you couldn’t have slept through it. It had become an annual affair, but always memorable.
So, as I was saying, maybe the same day, but no later than a day or so after Pilate’s entry, here came Jesus. But, note the contrast: Instead of a stallion, Jesus rides a young donkey. Instead of being accompanied by armed soldiers and loud drums, Jesus has only a crowd cheering “Hosanna!” Meaning, “save us!”
It was Pilate and the glory of the world’s most powerful empire, Rome, vs Jesus and some common folk. It was Pilate and Rome with their crushing heartless, violent oppression of the Jewish population vs Jesus. Jesus of non-violence, of gracious self-giving even towards enemies; Jesus of strength through weakness; Jesus who taught reconciliation rather than humiliation and intimidation. Jesus who would soon put an exclamation point on everything he taught by choosing to suffer rather than inflict suffering.
It was Pilate and Rome and kingdom as usual. Versus Jesus and just folks and God’s radically different kind of empire.
So, although they didn’t say it aloud, those who lined the street into Jerusalem witnessing Jesus’ Palm Sunday entrance had to be thinking: So let the games begin!
Now, it’s helpful to our understanding of the world Jesus inhabited to know that he was hardly the first messianic challenge to Rome, even since BCE became CE. Other would-be saviors of Israel before Jesus had come forth and failed. For example, a Pharisee named Judas of Gamala in around 6 CE received a lot of attention for teaching others to withhold their tributes, taxes, from Rome. He taught that they had no master but God. So far so good, right?
However, this Judas was persuaded by other Pharisees not to push it too far lest a military battle ensue. So, he sort of walked back the radical parts of what he had been saying. As a result, nothing more came of his efforts.
So, would Jesus be just another mis-fire? I suspect most of the people must have said, who knows? Maybe yes, maybe no. However, as far as the average onlooker was concerned, it looked to be at least interesting: as long as we don’t get too close to him in case bad things happen. Palm Sunday. Can’t hurt. Let’s see what he’s got.
This was Sunday. On Monday, according to Mark’s gospel, Jesus entered the temple area and kicked out all the buyers and sellers. Needless to say, this did not go over well with the religious authorities. Now, if not before, Jesus was royally ticking off the keepers of religion and its traditions.
Tuesday, maybe Wednesday, according to Mark, he was interacting with the people in the temple area and drawing big crowds. Here he really stepped into it big time with the Romans with his “render unto Caesar those things that are Caesar’s and unto God those things that are God’s.” Caesar you see was considered Rome’s God. The one they called Lord and even Savior years before anyone thought to call Jesus Lord or Savior.
Jesus, though, just wouldn’t keep quiet. Jesus refused to go along to get along. Unlike Judas of Gamala, he would not compromise.
The handwriting, as it were, was on the wall. Such that, after a last supper with his closest followers, when Judas returned leading a bunch of soldiers and planted a kiss on Jesus’ cheek marking him as the one to be arrested, the crowds began to pull back. This was not going well.
And you know the rest of the story. All deserted him. Even Peter, who when questioned, said, “I don’t know that guy.” Jesus’ first or second best friend Peter said, “I don’t know that guy, are you kidding?”
Now, if I could advise Jesus about what he could have done differently that last week – and I’m aware this is a bold way to begin a sentence – if I could advise Jesus about what he could have done differently that last week to encourage the crowd not to run away, it would be to suggest that he tell them in ways they could fully understand that Sunday was coming. To hang in.
In other words, I know it looks like we’re losing at the moment, but there’s a great plan for the last inning.
Only I’m not sure Jesus knew about the last inning plan either. His plea on the cross to God begging an answer to the question “why have you forsaken me?” suggests he didn’t know, or at the least, had a doubt or two.
Which I think makes his faithfulness unto death all the more remarkable. Makes his love for God and his devotion to God’s way all the more amazing and inspiring and engaging and him more approachable and his gospel more believable for the generations to follow. Jesus apparently didn’t know exactly how doing what he knew God wanted would end. But he did it anyway.
This friends, is no mythic God story, where heroes never question their fate, where heroes never suffer. This is real. As real as your breathing now. As real as your pain. And, also, as real as your greatest hope.
Now comes something scary. Do you remember Paul in the letter to the Philippians read earlier encouraging these first Christians to “Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus?”
I can only wonder how you hear that? It sounds, on the one hand, like a marvelous suggestion in, I don’t know, July, when we’re dwelling on the joys of faith or something.
On the other hand, this week, it may not appeal so much. It sounds very much like a prescription for death considering where the mind of Christ got Jesus.
So, what to make of “The mind of Christ” during Holy Week?
At the least, we need to remember that Holy Week is a microcosm of the whole of Jesus’ passion, of God’s passion for the world. This week isn’t a tacked on season to an otherwise interesting life. This week isn’t about a pre-programmed series of events that would lead to a button-downed doctrine centuries later. It’s about a God for whom no detail of existence is too small, including the consequences of politics and religion.
This week is about a God of the thus and so, the molecules and not just the mountains. This week is about the way that leads to God’s aim for an evolving creation, not about short-term strategies. This week is about spending, even losing one’s life for God’s sake, not trying to preserve status quo. This week is about un-comfort zones, not comfort zones.
This week is about the unity of all things instead of splitting reality into artificial categories of spiritual and physical, religious and secular.
Going forward, this week is about continuing to hope in God, to trust in God when we’ve done the right thing, the honorable thing, the just thing, and are paying the price for it. This week is about what happens when in our blessed humanness we question if this Jesus way of life is worth it. When, even when, we question if we’ve chosen the right God. When, even when, we doubt that maybe we just shouldn’t have gone ahead and compromised, backed off, eased up, let sleeping dogs lie. When we wonder, in the solitariness of 3 o’clock in the morning, “my God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”
God knows, it takes Jesus style courage for human beings to live out the mind of Christ in the day to day.
And God knows it takes Jesus style courage to face the darkness that attends the human situation and which threatens hope.
And God also knows, as the fearful Palm Sunday crowds demonstrated in their running away, such Jesus-style courage is, in fact, beyond the likes of us.
Unless.
Unless we were to know that Sunday is coming.
Thanks be to God.
March 15, 2015, Trinity Church Hartford
Fourth Sunday of Lent, Year B
Ephesians 2:1-10, John 3:14-21
Now don’t panic. This morning I want to do a little theology with you. It won’t take long and it won’t hurt much so please don’t space out or let your eyes immediately glaze over or start thinking about what’s for lunch. From time to time a little theology can be a good thing if it reminds us of some core beliefs of our faith, helps to clarify what we believe, and leads to some contemporary application and perhaps even some revisions in those core beliefs. Lent is a time for self-reflection and a little theology might help that process. So here goes.
One of the hardest and most challenging parts of traditional Christian theology, at least for many of us, is the claim that given the universal, sinful nature of human beings, no human action or work, or even a whole lifetime of them, is ever sufficient to earn or merit our salvation, salvation meaning living fully and fulfillingly in the loving arms of God. If salvation does come to us, it comes solely through the action of God, through God’s sheer grace and mercy, not through human worthiness. Now much of traditional theology has insisted that no human deed, no matter how good it is in human eyes or how well-intentioned it might be, can ever be good enough to allow us to achieve or be worthy of our own salvation. As Paul clearly says in the epistle this morning: For by grace you have been saved through faith, and this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God-- not the result of works, so that no one may boast.
This Pauline claim lies at the very foundation of the Protestant Reformation from which we in the Episcopal or Anglican tradition are directly descended. When Martin Luther rebelled against much of Roman Catholic theology in the 16th century, it was a rebellion against the view that human beings could perform enough good deeds, among which were prayer, saying the rosary, obeying the priests, participating in the sacraments, venerating saints and their relics, dispensing charity to the poor, or enriching the coffers of the church, so that they could earn or merit God’s favor. This was known by the reformers as the problem of justification, which comes from the word for justice. If the demands of strict justice in divine-human relations were to be met then it would only be just if God rewarded persons for their meritorious works or damned them for their sins. But no human beings were capable of that degree of merit given their sinful natures (Luther said their depravity or utter corruption). Therefore if salvation was to be attained, and the demands of justice were to be met, God would have to override those demands, and treat sinful humans as if they had attained a state of justice that should be rewarded with salvation. God would have to justify them since they could not justify themselves. And according to reformation theology God did justify at least some persons, (if not all, as Calvin argued in his doctrine of predestination), by a divine act of unearned and unmerited grace. The recipients of that divine grace could do only one thing: acknowledge their justification by a willingness to trust that it had really happened: and this willingness was the act of faith (which Luther even suggested could not sneak in the back door and be counted as a human work. Faith itself was an act of God. This is known theologically as justification by faith alone.
While this theological claim is central to the Protestant tradition it has raised for many people the question of whether works or deeds still matter at all. If they can’t earn us our salvation why do them at all? Do they have any meaning? If they are valueless in God’s eyes how can they have value in human eyes?
Now we all are addicted to or engaged in work or labor of some kind. And we know that it is performed for a variety of reasons. We work to earn the money needed to provide the basic necessities of life: clothing, food, recreation, and shelter. We also work sometimes for the sheer delight of what we are doing (anyone with a hobby or an exercise routine knows the intrinsic pleasure of that kind of work). Many of us work to benefit others who cannot labor for themselves. And some of us, perhaps all of us to some degree, labor, or get others to labor for us, because we want to acquire as much as we can of the world’s goods, often over and above what is necessary for a healthy and meaningful life. We engage in the work of acquisition and accumulation of goods primarily in order to be honored and esteemed by others or to gain power over them. When carried to an extreme this form of labor is driven by selfishness, the desire to have more and to be more than our neighbors or competitors. In this form of labor we do good works because they allow us to possess more and to receive more praise than lesser expenditures of labor would secure for us. We want to achieve our rewards and be able to claim that they are ours because we earned them by our labor. We want to display publically how important we are by pointing to the luxuries our hard work has gotten for us.
Are we to conclude that all these forms of labor are worthless because they cannot earn us our salvation? The answer, I think, is surely “no”. While not all forms of labor for acquiring the essentials for living a whole and healthy life are pleasant, and when carried to an extreme can even be pernicious, there is often something intrinsically rewarding about working to exercise the faculties that God has given us and in doing so contributing to our own well-being and to the well-being of our families and communities. No one wants to be only a recipient of the labors of others: we want to be able to make our own contributions to our own welfare and when possible to the welfare of others.
What the theology of justification raises for us, however, is the question of the spirit or state of mind with which we perform our labors and good works. Luther and his descendants, including our Puritan forebears here in New England, made it clear that the spirit of work should be the spirit of gratitude or thanksgiving for the salvation they had already received without having earned it by their labor, not the spirit of acquisition or achievement. As full recipients of divine grace and favor, they were to work for the glory of God, to show forth to the world God’s mercy, compassion, and love. They worked not to gain but to give. They knew that we’ve already been given the gift of new life in Jesus Christ. And through that gift we have been freed from the need for self-aggrandizement and self-promotion and, as a result, freed for helping others achieve access to the basic and essential goods that make life joyful, just, fair, and abundant according to the principles of social justice. We have been gifted with the abundance of God’s grace and now we are to share that abundance, including its material aspects, with others.
As Jesus says in this morning’s gospel, “those who do what is true come to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that their deeds have been done in God." Notice that the purpose of “doing what is true,” that is, what conforms to God’s intention for the world, is not that we might acquire more excess stuff or standing or success, but rather that we may point beyond ourselves to the true source of all meaningful living, namely God.
In this Lenten season we might make a part of our Lenten meditations thinking about what a difference it would make if we went about our labors in the world understanding them as the means by which we can offer to others what God has already gifted us with, in thanksgiving to God for his forgiveness and unqualified acceptance of us. In that spirit we would have a ready principle by which to evaluate our labor or our deeds: we can ask, without fear, of any deed we contemplate doing: how does this act or work demonstrate the mercy and grace of God, not how does it add to the excess pile of goods and honors we have heaped up for ourselves to show how great and successful we are. True labor is labor for the welfare of others, not for ourselves, precisely because our most essential welfare has already been secured for us by God. And this labor arising out of thanksgiving for our new life in Christ does itself have a kind of intrinsic satisfaction to it as anyone who has genuinely given herself to the care and nurture of others will soon discover. Self-giving labor turns out to be more pleasing to us than the labor aimed at securing more unnecessary acquisitions for ourselves. And the intrinsically satisfying labor of a hobby or a vocation or an avocation also allows us to refresh and recreate ourselves, providing us the resources to give even more amply to the benefit of others.
In short, labor done not to attain salvation but to demonstrate the fruits it has already brought us, is labor that frees us from self-preoccupation and for the benefit of others. If we view all of labor in its various forms as opportunities to show forth the glory of God and for the well-being of others, then we might well find ourselves no longer laboring in agony and fear for our own advancement or putting our own interests ahead of those of others. Instead we will labor joyfully as God’s stewards whose every labor casts glory on the One who has brought us out of the pit of selfishness and into the kingdom of true justice and delight in the fellowship of others. We will then be free from the never-ending race to hoard up the goods of the world. In the spirit of thanksgiving to God we can labor to justly distribute those good things of this world to all God’s people who truly have need and whose own labors are insufficient to provide themselves with the welfare and well-being that God intends for all God’s people. That is the true labor God calls us to; it is labor that, as Jesus says in the Gospel, has come to the light, so that it may be clearly seen that all our deeds have been done in God. And it is to that labor that we are called. Thus endeth the theology lesson. You may now resume your normal lives.
The Rt. Rev. Andrew Smith, Trinity Episcopal Church, Hartford CT
Third Sunday of Lent, Year B
Exodus 20:1-7, Psalm 19, 1 Corinthians 1:18-25, John 2:13-22
Last Sunday George Chein preached about how we might live as Christians with other peoples. Today’s lessons have something to say about how we as Christians might live together with God. And to specific things that can seriously get in our way. The Jerusalem Temple was the stunning marvel and central focus of Judaism in Jesus’ day. The Temple compound Jesus knew was enormous, built on the city hill where one thousand years before David had decided God’s House would be, although David was not to build it. That was the work of Solomon, the son who succeeded him. That first Temple too was magnificent for its day, but was destroyed completely in 586 BC by the Babylonians, and then about seventy years later it was rebuilt, a less splendid temple, but on the same site under Ezra and Nehemiah near the end of the sixth century. But the Temple of Jesus’ day outshone them all. Begun by Herod the so-called Great, It was built on a humongous raised mall created by building up from the valleys to extend the mountain top, and it covered an area — say from I-84 and the Aetna, to Broad Street to Collins Street west of Asylum Avenue to Sigourney Street.
Raised high, sheathed in marble, capped in gold, reached by monumental staircases, the Temple dominated the city. It was God’s House. Not that God wanted a house. Scripture is clear that the Temple was David’s idea, so our God could keep up with the other gods, all of whom had significant houses. God had been perfectly happy with a tent during the days of the wilderness. What a distance God had come from those tent days. Talk about moving on up! After more than forty years of construction: colonnades, courtyards for foreigners, for women, for men, for priests, a sacrificial altar as large as a house. Precious wood and hammered gold and marble everywhere. And there, the Temple itself — beyond magnificent in its vertical splendor. The glory of the Temple was but to reflect the gloriousness of God. The Temple was the center for pilgrimage for Jews living all over the world, for it was, on earth, God’s House: one Temple Row. It was the place for sacrifice, for offering tithes, for teaching and learning, for worship and ceremony. Chambers for meeting, for the Sanhedrin, underground vaults, for example, housing for the priests and Levites.
And it had become big business. All those pilgrims had to be housed, and fed, which must have been chaotic in festival times. Hordes of people had to be managed and overseen on the Temple Mount. Tithes had to be paid at the Treasury in Temple currency, so there was a thriving business of changing money. Herds of animals without blemish had to be provided for the required sacrifices — and so breeding, raising and selling perfect specimens was a huge business. Even today in the ruins is evidence of the enormous enterprise that the House of God had become.
Whatever happened to the simple Tent of Meeting in the desert years? Maybe Jesus wondered that — when, according to John, early in his mission, he first went to Jerusalem as an adult and entered the Temple Mount:
The Passover of the Jews was near, and Jesus went up to Jerusalem. In the temple he found people selling cattle, sheep, and doves, and the money changers seated at their tables. Making a whip of cords, he drove all of them out of the temple, both the sheep and the cattle. He also poured out the coins of the money changers and overturned their tables. He told those who were selling the doves, "Take these things out of here! Stop making my Father's house a marketplace!”
Imagine the scene. (This story appears in all four gospels — it was a central gospel account.) No “sweet Jesus meek and mild” here. His actions were an outrage. His disciples remembered that it was written, "Zeal for your house will consume me.” (Psalm 69:9) The Temple authorities challenged him: What gives you authority to do this? Jesus came back at them:
"Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” The Jews then said, "This temple has been under construction for forty-six years, and will you build it in three days?”
(We know) he was speaking of the temple of his body. How had it gone so wrong? A danger to faith. A word that comes to me is, ‘DISTRACTED.” That may seem like a “lite” word for what had happened in Jerusalem — but it does describe being dragged apart, pulled off the track, if you will. Over the years, centuries, whatever, the people, the priests, the chief priests, the Levites, the Sanhedrin, the whole enterprise had become something different from what God had intended — simply, as it was in the days of the tent, meeting with God. Jesus in his zeal — anger? — recalled the warnings of the prophets: “My House shall be called a house of prayer for all people: Take these things out of here! Stop making my Father's house a marketplace, a den of robbers!” (cf: Isaiah 56:7, Jeremiah 7:11)
The ways of the world that addict us to patterns of self-interest and values of wealth, splendor and prestige, had pulled the Temple away from the intimate saving relationship God wants and intends for God’s people. Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up, he said. That vision was filled in spades. Less than forty years later, the Temple was destroyed, by the Romans, not a stone left on stone, all burned and thrown as construction debris down into the valleys below, to this day never to be built again. Jesus was raised up in three days, himself the new way to God, the Christ. And the Church: the body of Christ, ourselves the Temple of the Holy Spirit. Behold what we are.
Sometimes I worry that we too forget, or become distracted, from the intimacy, the relationship, the meeting which God seeks. We too do not meet God in the simplicity of a tent, but in great buildings built to rival the grandest of secular structures. We call them “God’s house.” (And how they drain our resources.) And the Church adopts temple language, even in our first hymn this morning: the disciples’ supper table becomes an altar, the disciples become priests and apostles, high priests (I am one). And the Church resorts to the very practices Jesus condemned — buying and selling (parish fairs) — and others — charging fees, investing for profit, gambling, sponsoring lotteries — to mark and support its life.
Yet, as it was with the Hebrews in the desert, what God simply wants is to meet us. And teach us to love as God loves. It’s no mistake that the first of the commandments given to Moses talk of our relationship to God, with love, above all else. As it was with Jesus with his disciples in the Galilee, the Decapolis, Judea, God wants to walk with us — or rather for us to follow and walk with God — so that we can learn and live and pray and love as Jesus taught us. And for us to come to God, to offer our worship. Without being distracted. It’s Lent, a time in which we look at ourselves, — each of us individually, and all of us as a congregation, part of the Body of Christ, look at our life and activities and learning and witness, our good works, with a critical eye. Shouldn’t we, in every thing, ask ourselves, over and over, constantly, the question, “In what we are planning and doing, are we seeking above all to meet together with God?” And, “How can we do that more fully, better?” The Jerusalem Temple is long gone. The risen Christ still lives. We are the Body of Christ, the Temple of the Holy Spirit. Through us, may God’s glory and mercy. whose foolishness is wiser than human wisdom, whose weakness is stronger than human strength, may God’s glory be shown, not with monuments of marble and gold, or brick and stone and wood, all of which erode and decay, and fall down. Rather may God’s glory and merciful love shine because above all else we seek simply and always, wherever we are, to meet God in Christ. And as we do, may our lives will so shine, radiant, with the divine presence and love, that God will be made plain, glorious, for all the world to see.
The Rev. Bennett A. Brockman
Trinity Episcopal Church, Hartford, CT
February 22, 2015
Renewals on the Way
This is my last scheduled Sunday at Trinity Church, and I feel a certain sadness in saying a formal farewell. Linda and I have truly enjoyed this time with you. At the same time, it is wonderful to see Don feeling so much stronger, and it’s inspiring to see how devoted he is to you all and the good work this parish does. The time has gone quickly, and we will miss you as we retire again and stay tuned for what God may have in mind for us next.
It has been a great blessing for me to work with Don and the vestry and leaders and staff of this parish in the daily and weekly routine. What a fine group of able and committed Christians doing God’s work! Beyond the day to day, I have admired the work of re-imagining that this congregation is engaged in, the work you describe by the acronym MDIG, the Mission Discernment Group. I understand that the Group is just on the point of reporting to the Vestry and parish. The report will be of great interest to everyone, I know; and I think it’s very timely that it will be presented during Lent, the season for looking for fresh connections to the re-creating Spirit of God.
Now the Gospel, the Good News that Jesus begins to proclaim in today’s Gospel has not changed. What has changed is the ability of the population today to hear and respond to the Gospel. The MDIG work signifies that this parish is boldly and deliberately looking for ways of co-operating anew with God’s unchanging mission for the Church, which is reconciling people to each other and to God through Jesus Christ—making the world whole, healing the world (II Corinthians 5:17-19).
Doing this work nowadays requires churches to preserve the best treasures of the past while translating them for people conditioned to be unreceptive or hostile to the message of Jesus as it has been expressed in the church most of us grew up in. It is critically important work. It is also very challenging work. It will prosper here, I believe, because this parish already manifests the willingness to engage the neighborhoods around it, and the neighborhoods from which its members come, in undertaking the holy work of reconciliation and healing. Here are a few examples: the day-school, Trinity Academy; the Choir School of Hartford; the leadership-formation emphasis of the acolyte program, as it overlaps with the Journey to Adulthood and Heads Up Hartford programs; the food, clothing, and worship ministry called “Church in the Park”; and the growing number of musical groups who are discovering Trinity Church as a superb venue for their performances.
This work of renewal that the parish is so deeply engaged in corresponds perfectly with the traditional aim of Lenten devotion, the “renewal of a right spirit within us,” as the Psalm says (51: 11). It is what Jesus means when he preaches repentance, a word that literally means a change of thinking.
A renewed world is what Noah has just seen in the lesson from Genesis we just heard. That story also points to a recurring theme in the Hebrew Scriptures appointed for Lent this year. That theme is God’s covenant, God’s promises to God’s people, along the course of human history. Noah received the first of these great promises. He and his family, and the pairs of creatures aboard the ark with them, survived the great flood that destroyed all other life on earth. Now, God covenants never again to destroy the whole world. And the bow in the sky becomes the everlasting token of that everlasting promise.
I’ve always thought it a serious oversight on God’s part that in renewing creation after the flood, he did not re-create paradise and re-form human beings as incapable of sin. Alas, the physics and biology of the world and the biology and psychology of human beings did not get reconstructed. Shortly after the flood, the story continues. Noah gets drunk and behaves shamefully. It is as if God is saying “this your world is the only possible world, and it’s up to you to choose the way of life, my way; or the way of death.” Renewal of a right spirit within us is still the requirement for living a fully meaningful human life.
The readings from the Hebrew Scriptures will reveal later agreements, covenant promises extended through Abraham and the patriarchs and matriarchs of Israel, and through Moses and the prophets. Today’s Gospel story is Mark’s account of the beginning of Jesus’ ministry, and Jesus’ life in its fullness—in its arc from birth to baptism to ministry to crucifixion to resurrection—becomes the Great Covenant, God’s ultimate promise of true of life to human beings. That is the Great Covenant we affirm at our own baptism. This is the Good News that Jesus preaches.
Mark’s account abridges the temptation story Matthew and Luke tell more fully. They explain that Satan’s temptations occurred at the end of Jesus’ forty day fast and began with the temptation to deal with his hunger by using his divine power to transform stones into bread. Matthew and Luke report that Jesus refused to do that, quoting Scripture that human beings live not by bread alone but by the words of life that come from God. He similarly turns aside temptations to exercise power over the whole world, if he will worship Satan, or to dazzle crowds with his supernatural powers by jumping off tall buildings without being hurt.
It is vital to have this additional information, I believe, in order to see that the crucible in which Jesus’ ministry is formed is like the challenge of bringing the Good News to today’s culture. The point is not simply that good people should resist the temptations to indulge the flesh, the world, and the devil in their various manifestations, worthy though that goal may be. Rather, the invitation is to see that Jesus, fresh from baptism and the affirmation of the Spirit’s power upon him, becomes the focal point of a collision of ultimate authority and ultimate priorities and ultimate values and ultimate outcomes. It comes down to this: on what will one stake one’s life? On the power to kill, like Rome, and like Satan, whose name means ‘the adversary’? On the power to be a celebrity and dazzle crowds? Or on the power to create new life? To bring life out of death? The power of new creation? The power of God?
It is very hard to trust an invisible and rarely manifested God. The gods our surrounding culture worships promise what Jesus rejected: material possessions (super-size that for you?), power (worship it!), status (watch me fly!). All these false gods are perhaps wrapped up in one supreme deity: security. We even have a national department dedicated to it.
Security: the ability to guarantee an outcome. If only. I confess that I long for security as much as anyone here. The reality, though, is that the only way out of the desert—40 years for the people of ancient Israel, 40 days for Jesus—is through it; there are no shortcuts, and there are hazards and surprises aplenty along the way. And the destination won’t look like what anyone imagined. It has to be a journey of faith. And it will be a journey in which the familiar, traditional will be transformed and made new.
The journey ahead of us individually, or as a parish, does not promise security. But it invites serenity, because it will be grounded in the faith worth staking one’s life on. The faith that God’s love will never let us go. The faith that new creation arises from death, that healing and reconciliation are available. The faith that God will be in each moment as it evolves. The faith that values love and compassion over power and status. The faith that as we engage the people around us more and more deeply they will disclose the longings of their hearts, and can respond to Good News of Jesus just as we have. The faith that without quite knowing our destination, or what some end product will look like, or quite how we’ll get there, the journey and the destination and even the mistakes along the way will be blessed because we undertake the journey believing in this kind of God.
May God indeed bless you in this journey, and may you go on the way rejoicing in the power of the Spirit. Amen.
