Al Donley

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

January 25, 2020

Al Donley

          When I last visited Al, he was in hospice with a room overlooking Lake Erie.  Al was tired and while we talked a little bit, mostly we kept silence.  After a bit, Al looked at me and said “Let’s sing something.”  “What would you like to sing, Al?”  “How about ‘O Come, all ye faithful,” was his reply.  So, on January 14, a bit out of season, looking out over Lake Erie, we sang “O come, all ye faithful.”  Al’s voice was a bit wobbly on the verse, but when we came to the refrain, his deep Al Donley voice rang strong and clear with the words “O come, let us adore Him.”  When Ted and Colleen arrived, Al wanted to sing some more.  That time there was a little debate about whether to sing “Amazing Grace” or “O come all ye faithful.”  The latter won out once again, and the four of us sang together.  And again, when we got to the refrain, Al’s voice gained strength and the words came out as strong and true as if Al was singing in the choir.

          “O come let us adore him.”  Perhaps that was just Al’s favorite hymn.  But as I thought about Al, I thought that perhaps, lying in the bed in hospice, looking out over the lake and peering into eternity, Al decided that there was really nothing left but to give God adoration and praise.  Of course, all Al really wanted was to do that in the comfort of his own home surrounded by his family and his beloved Carol, which happened the next day.

          The life we celebrate this day is one that found abundant and tangible ways to adore God.  Al adored God through all kinds of service from outreach ministries here at Christ Church and his work on Christian formation in the wider church, to his vast and creative work to help students get a college education, to his 19 years on the Hiram village council, to his steady and wise presence in difficult times.  Al adored God through his devotion to his family, especially his deep love and great respect for Carol.  And, I believe Al’s well known sense of humor reflected something of the sense of humor God must have as God looks at God’s creation.  In the gospel, we hear Jesus say “I am the Good Shepherd” then we hear Jesus describe the lengths the Good Shepherd will go to in order to serve and care for his sheep.  We experienced some of that Good Shepherd in Al and the many, many ways Al used his life to serve others.  And in that service, God has been adored over and over again.  O come, let us adore him.

          There is so much to celebrate today and there are so very many stories to share.  However, we are also here to grieve this loss.  Al was a husband, father, grandfather, brother, friend, and mentor to many who were touched by his life.  Grief is hard.  Jesus wept at the tomb of Lazarus, his friend.  We pray for Al, but also for each other this day, that we can both comfort each other and look to God for comfort.  Paul writes in the passage from Romans that we just heard “For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”  Nothing, not this death nor any other death, can separate us from the love of God.  We can hold onto that as we walk the weeks and months ahead and know that Al would still sing “O come, let us adore him.”

          Lastly, we gather this day to commit Al’s life to God.  At Al’s baptism decades ago, both his earthly life and his eternal life were committed to God, and Al spent just a few days short of 83 years living out that commitment.  In his death, Al was joined with God in new life, eternal life.  Both Al’s earthly life, and Al’s eternal life bear out the words from the book of Wisdom “Those who trust in him will understand truth, and the faithful will abide with him in love, because grace and mercy are upon his holy ones, and he watches over his elect.”  Al has been raised by God to that place where he can abide with God in love forever.   For that, in the midst of our grief, we give God thanks and praise.  “O come, let us adore him.”

                                     

                                                                                      Amen.

A Parable

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

January 19, 2020

2 Epiphany A/Annual Meeting

          Today is our Annual Meeting at Christ Church, the day we review the past year and look to the future and all that 2020 will hold for us.  Today we will also baptize Abigail Bailey, bringing her into the household of God.  This weekend, the country celebrates the life of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. and his quest for real and lasting equality for all people.  Each of those events deserves a sermon of its own, and yet, the one sermon per Sunday rule still applies.

          However, as I think about the confluence of these three events, it occurs to me that this confluence is a parable of sorts for our past year together.  In 2019, we opened our doors and offered hospitality to the community over and over again in times of joy, sorrow, fear, and a desire to simply be good neighbors.  In the same year, we ran a very successful “Building for Community” capital campaign thanks to the efforts of a large number of people who gave of their time, their energy, and their resources to help make Christ Church a more accessible, more welcoming place for the many people who gather here.  And in the same year, we started a new young choristers program, hosted the new Interfaith Thanksgiving Service, participated in First Serve without getting rained out this time and had a combined worship service with First Presbyterian.  All of this while continuing the many ongoing outreach, education, and worship ministries of Christ Church.  If we can do all that in one year, juggling three events in one sermon should be no problem!

          This morning, we hear the account in John’s gospel of the calling of Jesus’ first two disciples.  Two of John the Baptist’s disciples hear the prophet say “Look, here is the Lamb of God” and follow Jesus.  When Jesus realizes he is being followed, he turns and says to the two “Who are you looking for?”  The two ask where Jesus is staying, and Jesus replies “Come and see.”  The two wind up spending the day with Jesus.  We have no idea what transpired that day, or what Jesus said, did, or taught.  But one of the men was Andrew, and Andrew was so moved by Jesus that he went and found his brother, Simon, and told him that they had found the Messiah.  Andrew took Simon to Jesus, who renamed him Cephas, or Peter, and the rest is history.

          This story, I believe, is what holds our Christ Church parable together this morning.  One person, Andrew, a relatively unknown follower of John the Baptist introduces Simon Peter to Jesus, a small and simple act that makes a huge difference in the course of Christianity.  In baptism, each individual is called by name and made part of the household of God.  Together, each of us as an individual renews our baptismal covenant because we know that each of us as individuals matter.  When each of us as individuals commits to working for justice and peace and respecting the dignity of every human being together, and we allow the Holy Spirit to work through us, the body of Christ can make a powerful gospel difference in the world.  We will bring Abigail into the body of Christ where she will make a difference, both an individual and as part of something much larger than herself.   

          Likewise, in all of the things we have accomplished in the past year, the hard, the easy, the sad, and the joyful, we have been able to do that because each person has done their one person’s worth and we have done that work together.  Like Andrew, each of us has done what we could and when we each do that, together we do pretty amazing things.  Just as a small example, last Friday-day before yesterday- when an email went out asking for help with the reception after Al Donley’s funeral next Saturday, the replies came pouring in with offers of food and help as we work to provide the best hospitality and comfort to those who gather.  That, in itself, is a parable of our life together.  When we each do our one person’s worth, whether a Capital Campaign, funeral reception, Vacation Bible School, or any other project, ministry, or challenge, together with the Holy Spirit, we will be able to do whatever God is calling us to do. 

          Of course, Dr. King is another model of the difference one person can make.  Dr. King was committed to non-violent resistance as he worked to eradicate racism and poverty, and to uphold and protect the freedom, equality, and dignity of every human person.  Whether from jail or from the steps of the Lincoln Memorial in Washington, D.C., Dr. King's message was the same: all people are created equal and are equally God's children regardless of skin color or economic status, and that whatever affects one person affects everyone, even if indirectly.  Dr. King's work made a difference, in part because he inspired countless people, individuals who perhaps wondered what one person could do, to join in sit-ins, marches, peaceful demonstrations, and boycotts to help deliver the message that ALL people are created equal.  If each person who heard Dr. King thought "I am just one person.  My actions won't make a difference," there would have been no one at the sit-ins or marchs and, indeed, those actions would have had no power.  But together, thousands and thousands of individuals, inspired by one person, made a powerful difference.

          Andrew’s small act in introducing his brother to Jesus made an enormous difference in Christian history.  Did Andrew know at the time the difference he was making?  I doubt it.  But I do know this: every time we each take the gifts God has given us and we work together, resisting any temptation to think “I am just one person and my actions won’t make a difference,” Christ Church, like Andrew and Dr. King, will make a powerful gospel difference in the world around us.  Again and again and again.

                                                                   Amen

Wind and Water

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

January 12, 2020

1 Epiphany A

Lake Maumelle is a decent sized lake-about 9000 acres-in central Arkansas.  The lake was built in the 1950’s to serve as a water supply.  Lake Maumelle is also where I learned to sail a number of decades ago.  Dad bought a little sunfish sailboat when I was about 14 years old and we started from scratch learning how to get from one end of the lake to another, how to work with the wind, how to paddle when there was no wind, and just how far we could let the wind tip the boat over before we landed in the water.  Once we mastered the Sunfish he bought a slightly larger boat, still with just one sail, then eventually we moved on to a larger boat with two sails.  That boat would not capsize, but we delighted in seeing just how far we could let the boat tip on its side before Mom objected.

          On Lake Maumelle, I learned the power of both water and wind.  Working with the wind, we could move through the water to get where we wanted to go.  The water could be so choppy that getting anywhere was a lot of work, and sometimes we ended up in a place we had not intended to go.  And sometimes the water and wind could work together to move us swiftly through the lake.  The wind could also bring us to a complete and utter standstill, or, if we were not careful, the wind could toss us into the water before we had any idea what had hit us. 

          This morning, the story of Jesus’ baptism brings us both water and wind.  The water, of course, is the water of the Jordan River where Jesus goes to be baptized by John.  After first objecting, John baptizes Jesus and the wind appears as the Spirit of God, the breath of God, descends like a dove and lights on Jesus.  Then we hear the voice of God say “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

          Baptism does not get any better than having the Spirit of God light upon you and the voice of God claim you as God’s own.  In my imagination, the waters of the Jordan are crystal clear, the sun is shining, there is a light breeze, and all is right with the world at that moment.  If we didn’t know before, now we know who Jesus is-the beloved Son of God.  When we are baptized, we are also claimed as God’s beloved children.  The Spirit may not descend like a dove, but by the waters of baptism we are made Christ’s own, forever. 

          However, in the very next line of Matthew’s gospel, which we will hear on the First Sunday of Lent, we hear these words: “Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil.”  Immediately after Jesus is baptized, after the Spirit of God rests on him and the Voice of God claims him, Jesus is led by that very Spirit into the wilderness.

          I have spent some time this week thinking about the relationship between baptism and the wilderness as we have seen the world stand on the brink of the wilderness of war.  There were times this week when I could barely stand to look at the news, and times when I could hardly tear myself away, and I have pondered just what Jesus’ baptism might have to do with the current geopolitical climate. 

          If Jesus had been baptized in the Jordan River, felt the Spirit descend on him and heard the voice of God claim him, and then gone on to lead a nice comfortable life, that would be one thing.  But that is not the way life worked out for Jesus.  Immediately after his baptism he was led in the wilderness where he was tempted by Satan, with nothing but God and the Spirit that led him there to rely on.  After that, he began a ministry that confronted demons, spoke hard truths, healed the sick, provoked the authorities, and led to an untimely death.  In the reading from Isaiah, one of the suffering servant passages understood by many to refer to Jesus, we heard God say “I have put my spirit upon him; he will bring forth justice to the nations. He will not cry or lift up his voice, or make it heard in the street; a bruised reed he will not break, and a dimly burning wick he will not quench; he will faithfully bring forth justice.”  The Spirit landed on Jesus, not to protect him from the world, but to send him into the world to engage the world and bring forth justice, with the Good but sometimes uncomfortable or even threatening News.

          The wind and water of baptism send us into the world as well, a world that can sometimes feel as lonely and desolate as the wilderness Jesus found himself in following his baptism.  Sometimes that wind and water are motionless and we feel like we have to find our own way.  Other times, the wind and water of baptism push so hard that we think we might tip over.  And other times, the wind and water of baptism seem to work with us to get us where we need and want to go.  But the wind and water of baptism remind us that we never go alone.  Later in the passage from Isaiah, God says “Thus says God, the Lord, who created the heavens and stretched them out, who spread out the earth and what comes from it, who gives breath to the people upon it and spirit to those who walk in it: I am the Lord, I have called you in righteousness, I have taken you by the hand and kept you.”  The God of the wind and water of baptism has taken us by the hand and will keep us, wherever that wind and water carry us.

Baptism called Jesus and baptism calls us to engage the world-the beauty, the pain, the sin, the relationships, the turmoil and conflict-all of it.  Baptism is beautiful, sacred, and powerful, claiming us as Christ’s own forever.   But, as Isaiah and Jesus remind us, we are claimed as Christ’s own not just for our own purposes and well being, but to make a difference for the good of the world God created. 

                                                                                      Amen.

Home

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

December 24, 2019

Christmas Eve

          If I were to travel to my ancestral home, I would be going to either Headland, Alabama, or Fordyce, Arkansas.  Neither are easy to get to.  Both require either a long trip by car, or an airline flight with multiple layovers and a rental car.  Neither are places where I know even one soul anymore, and I am pretty sure neither boasts so much as a Motel 6.  But as I visited the Piggly Wiggly grocery store in Headland, or drove past my grandmother’s old house, or paid my respects at the graves of loved ones in either Headland or Fordyce, I am confident that my soul would recognize those places as home in one way or another.  Whatever my reason for traveling, whether by choice or obligation, I trust that I would find a sense of belonging there.

          Joseph and Mary are on a journey of obligation to Joseph’s ancestral home tonight.  They travel in order to be counted for the census.  The journey from Nazareth to Bethlehem was not an easy one on a good day, much less when hugely pregnant and either walking, or riding on the back of an animal.  Did Joseph see anyone he knew in Bethlehem?  Were the sights, sounds, and smells at all familiar?  Did he experience any sense of home there?  Those details are left to our imagination, but we are told that, while they were there, “the time came for Mary to deliver her child. And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.”   On the one hand, Joseph’s visit to his ancestral home was hardly a happy homecoming.  But on the other hand, Joseph and Mary made a home where they found themselves, and I imagine they fell asleep that night joyful, but completely and utterly exhausted.

          If we were hearing the story for the first time, we might think that, while inconvenient to say the least, this story is still the simple story of poor timing and a young couple making the best of a challenging situation.  But the angels and shepherds tell us that this is no normal story about a trip to the ancestral homeland.  An angel of the Lord appears to some terrified shepherds and says "Do not be afraid; for see-- I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger."  Good news of great joy for all the people-including shepherds-is being proclaimed.  The shepherds may or may not have a home, and if they have an ancestral home, that home is likely the fields in which they find themselves.  The shepherds spend their lives doing the work no one else wants to do, out in the middle of the night, keeping sheep from wandering off or being eaten by wolves.  But, for them the night sky lights up with a multitude of angels, singing God’s praise.  Clearly this birth announcement is for no ordinary birth, and no ordinary child.  So the shepherds leave their flocks to their own devices, a bit of a risky move, and go to Bethlehem to see this child.  How could they not, having heard the song of the angels?  No doubt Mary and Joseph were a bit surprised to find the shepherds at the barn door, but they listened to the words of the shepherds and we are told that Mary pondered those words in her heart.

          Some of us may have traveled to our ancestral home, or at least the home of our upbringing, for Christmas, looking for the familiar sights and experiences of Christmas that Hudson and Christ Church offer.  Some of us may be wishing we could bridge distance and time to be with beloved family somewhere else tonight and are missing the sense of home that we associate with Christmas.  Some of us may long for a home in ways that are no longer possible.  And some of us did not have to travel at all to feel that we are right where we belong this night.  The power of Christmas, however, is that we do not have to travel to our ancestral home for the baby Jesus to be born in our midst.  The gospel of Matthew reminds us that Jesus is Emmanuel, God with Us.  So, the power of Christmas actually flips our understanding of home upside down.  Precisely because Mary and Joseph had to travel to a far off place, in a circumstance not of their choosing, give birth to Jesus in a barn, and use a manger for a crib, and because the angels sang and the shepherds traveled, we know that the Christ Child can be born anywhere, under any circumstances.  Whenever and where ever the Christ Child is born in our midst, we are in our ancestral home-the home that connects us with all people, the home made holy by the song of the angels and the visit of the shepherds, the home where all are welcome and there is room for everyone.  The message of Christmas is that wherever the Christ Child is born in our midst, we are home because God has made a home with us.

                                                                             Amen.