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Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

July 22, 2018

11 Proper B

          When I was growing up, my grandmother lived in the same house she lived in when my mother was born in 1932.  My grandfather died when I was just two years old, so I never really knew him, other than through photographs and stories.  My sister and I loved going to the house where Mom grew up, looking through her old high school photo albums, and playing with the children of Mom’s childhood friends.  Mom grew up in the small town of Headland, Alabama where everyone knows everyone else and their business.  When we would go to visit in the summer, everyone from the tellers at the bank to the cashiers at the grocery store knew who we were.  We were Ann Slocomb’s children and Mildred Slocomb’s grandchildren.  Even though we did not live in Headland, the small community felt like home.  We felt connected there and loved by people we did not even know, simply because we were Ann’s daughters and Mildred’s granddaughters.  Between staying with our grandmother in the house where Mom was raised, to being known everywhere we went by people we did not know, the notion of “home” became much more than simply a dwelling place.  “Home” became an experience of belonging and of identity.  We felt at home in Headland, Alabama.

          This morning, we find David settled in at home, enjoying his house and taking a rest from all his enemies around him.  Sitting in his lovely house of cedar, David realizes that while he has a lovely home, God is living in a tent.  David should not have a nicer dwelling place than God has.  So, David decides to build God a house.  That is the way Scripture tells the story.  But personally, I think David is tired from all his work defeating his enemies and working to create a united Kingdom.  David remembers well all the times that God has moved among the people, led them in battle, and taken them to new places.  David is worn out, and figures that if he builds God a house to live in, God will have to stay put for a while, and David can take a break!  But that is just my version of the story.

Whatever David's motives, God is not flattered by David's generous offer.  God reminds David that God is a God on the go.  Rather than David building a house for God, God will build a house for David, on whose throne God will establish a kingdom forever.  This house will not be a made of cedar, but of the offspring of David.

David's offspring do rule Jerusalem for about 400 years. But even before that kingship ends with the Babylonian exile in 586 B.C., prophets believed that God's promise to David would be fulfilled through the gift of a Messiah.  As Christians, we believe that the promise made to David this morning is fulfilled in the person of Jesus.

When we catch up with Jesus today, we find him out among the people.  The Messiah, the anointed one of God, is not found in a house, but out in the villages, cities and farms, teaching and healing all those who came to him.  This is the same Messiah who, in Matthew and Luke's gospels, says "Foxes have dens and birds have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head."  And in the same gospels, when told that his mother and brothers have arrived to see him, Jesus says "My mother and brother are those who hear the word of God and do it."  Whatever Jesus' idea of home might be, it does not seem to involve his family or a house.  As the one we believe to be the promised house of David, built by God, Jesus does not stay put any more than God does.  Jesus is clearly the Son of the God who is on the move!

So what might "home" mean for us as Christians?  The writer of Ephesians says "So then, you are no longer strangers and aliens, but you are citizens with the saints and also members of the household of God, built upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, with Christ Jesus himself as the chief cornerstone.  In him the whole structure is joined together and grows into a holy temple in the Lord; in whom you also are built together spiritually into a dwelling place for God."

Much in the same way that gospel logic proclaims that the last are first and the first are last, the rich are poor and the poor are rich, and the insiders are outsiders and the outsiders are insiders, I wonder if gospel logic tells us that for followers of Jesus, home is not about where we live, but where God lives.  As Christians, we believe that Jesus is Emmanuel-God with us.  Christians are no longer aliens or strangers, or in other words we are no longer not-at-home, because together we are a dwelling place for God. What makes home is God dwelling in us-God with us.  We come to this place, this wonderful, beautiful building, to be fed and nurtured, but not to live.  The number one vote getting hymn at Christ Church is “Lift High the Cross,” which I understand was the theme and the theme hymn of the campaign to build the beautiful church/this lovely space some 25 or so years ago.  We come to Christ Church, our spiritual home, to be fed and sent out into the villages, cities, and farms, or their equivalent in our own lives.  In September, we will have a unique opportunity to be sent out and experience God’s home in the world.  On September 9, we are invited to participate in First Serve with First Congregational Church as well as people of other denominations and faiths, along with the residents of two economically challenged neighborhoods in Akron, to help repair homes and revitalize neighborhoods.  We will not be outsiders coming in to fix something for someone else, but we will be fellow travelers coming in to connect with people we have not met yet, our brothers and sisters as God’s children, and to help.  My experience is that as we help people with their homes and neighborhoods, we will experience a sense of home and neighborhood with them.  Our home is where God is, and Scripture tells us that God is out among the people.  Home happens for us where ever we are because we are all members of the household of God and members of Jesus family. Home happens when we hear the word of God and do it.  Home happens when we go where God goes, and God is on the move.

                                                  Amen.

The Word Made Flesh

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

July 15, 2018

Christmas in July

          Until I started seminary about 25 years ago, I was mostly stay-at-home mom to our two sons.   I had done a little teaching here and there, and a lot of volunteer work, but for the most part my life had revolved around Slocomb and Caldwell.  So, my entry into the world of commuting to school an hour away from home four days a week and taking a full load of courses was a rather jarring transition.   A friend of mine at church-who I considered to be an older woman at the time but she was probably all of 60-said this to me one day just before school started: “I am going to bring dinner to your house one night a week every week this year.”   She stated this as a fact, not a question, and I knew her well enough not to argue, because arguing would have been a waste of breath.  Every Thursday night for an entire year, Anita brought a home cooked meal to our house.  One week the meal might be meatloaf and mashed potatoes, made from scratch.  Another week, we might have homemade lasagna, or a casserole, or any number of hot nourishing meals.  Every week for 52 weeks until we moved to Chicago for me to finish school, Anita nourished our bodies and souls with her food, kindness, and outrageous generosity.

          What, you might reasonably ask, do Anita’s meals have to do with Christmas in July?  Christmas in July reminds us that the Christ Child is born in our midst, the Word becomes flesh, not just when we have cleared space on our calendar, purchased or made gifts and wrapped them, decorated our homes if we are so inclined, and have Christmas dinner ready to pop in the oven.  The Christmas story tells us that the Christ Child was born in a common stable, where a manger was used for his bed, to parents who were about the ordinary and probably annoying work of taking care of bureaucratic red tape, and the ordinary became holy.  The Christ child is born in our midst, the Word becomes flesh, in the midst of our ordinary lives, in surprising ways, when we least expect Jesus to show up.  Anita’s meals were, for me, a surprising and grace-filled expression of the Word made flesh, the ordinary made holy as she extended lavish kindness to my family and myself.

          I sometimes wonder if we hear the words of the angel to the shepherds differently in July than we do in December. The angel says to the shepherds "Do not be afraid." And the shepherds swallow their fear and leave their flocks to find the Christ Child lying in the manger. In December, when it is cold outside and not only the church but all of downtown Hudson is decorated, I hear those words and feel comfort and hope at coming to this place and greeting the Christ Child here. In December, we do offer gifts of baby food for the baby Jesus and hungry babies in Summit County.  So our focus is not entirely on greeting the Christ Child here, but on Christmas Eve, at least for me, the focus is on the Christ child being born in my own heart and greeting him in this place so that I can swallow my fear and go into the world to serve Christ there.

On Christmas in July, I hear the words of the angel to the shepherd differently. I hear the angel say to the shepherds-"Do not be afraid. The Christ Child is not here in the fields where you are comfortable and know what you are doing. The Christ Child is in Bethlehem, where you are not comfortable and you do not know what you are doing. Swallow your fear and go there."   The shepherds believe the angel, leave the sheep to their own devices, and venture into unknown territory without so much as a map much less a GPS to guide them as they look for a newborn baby in the midst of the city of Bethlehem.  The shepherds have certainly swallowed their fear!

Christmas in July, which I cheerfully admit is weird and uncomfortable, reminds us that the manger is not just here, where we greet the Christ Child and are comfortable and know what we are doing. The manger is equally in those places where we are less comfortable and less likely to know what we are doing, such as places where children do not have such basic items of clothing as socks and underwear, or where people live lives completely different from ours, or hold different values, or are marginalized because of race, or gender, or education or income or any number of other reasons and places where people face challenges we cannot begin to imagine. Christmas in July takes us out of our comfort zones, reminding us both that the Christ child is found in unexpected places and that we are called to be the Word made flesh for others at all times and in all places.  Christmas in July reminds us that Jesus often shows up where we least expect him, and that sometimes we have to swallow our fear to find him.

                                                                                     Amen.

Hometown

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

July 8, 2018

9 Proper B

          I met my husband's Aunt Joy when she was 95 years old.  Two of her six children had brought her to Springfield, Ohio where we lived at the time, for a mini family reunion.  Aunt Joy was fiercely independent, utterly delightful, deeply inquisitive about her faith, and I adored her instantly.  We corresponded off and on for the next few years, usually by phone.  I got to visit her once in Richmond, Virginia where she lived, which was a total blessing.

When Aunt Joy was 98 years old, she was diagnosed with non-Hodgkin’s lymphoma.   She had emergency surgery after which she had to relearn how to make her arms and hands work, and how to stand again.  We talked on the phone a little more often then, and sometimes we were even able to Skype and see each other.  One day she told me with a real sense of accomplishment that she had been able to stand several times that day.  She marveled at the ability of the physical therapist to hoist her out of the chair, and she told me that she had to hang on to the therapist for dear life.  But she had stood up, even if briefly, and she felt like a new person.

Her problem, she told me, was that she was having trouble hanging on to Jesus.   In fact, she said, she was having trouble finding Jesus at all, much less hanging on to him.  We talked about this and then we wondered together about whether Jesus might be present in the physical therapist she had held on to so tightly so she could stand up.  Or perhaps Jesus was present in her children, at least one of whom was with her around the clock.  Or perhaps Jesus was present in the oncologist that Aunt Joy adored and was probably younger than some of Aunt Joy's grandchildren.  We said good-bye that night without any clear resolution to her concern about being able to hang on to Jesus, but her deeply inquisitive mind had engaged the question on a new level.

This morning, the folks in Jesus’ hometown are astonished that this carpenter, this son of Mary and Joseph, is able to teach in the synagogue much less do amazing deeds of power.  The people could not believe that the person before them, teaching with authority and power, and doing miraculous deeds, could possibly be the kid who grew up in their neighborhood, played with their children, and had a mom and dad and brothers and sisters who were their friends.  This guy should be a normal hometown human being just like them.  Jesus’ wisdom was taken for arrogance, and his ability to heal was likely seen as some kind of magic.  The people could not see Jesus for who he was and so nothing, or very little, happened, as we are told that Jesus was only able to lay his hands on a few people and cure them.

This morning, we also hear the story in which David is anointed king over Israel.   Several weeks ago, we heard God send Saul to see Jesse the Bethlehemite, because God had chosen a king for the Israelites from among Jesse’s sons.  Saul was introduced to all of Jesse’s sons, likely from the eldest and most eligible to be king, to the younger ones, and none was the one God had chosen as king.  God had chosen the youngest son, David.  God was acting in the lives of God’s people, right under their noses, in a way they could not see because who would think God would chose the youngest, smallest of all the sons?

We often talk about finding God at work in the world around us, and remind ourselves that God does not just work within our lives here at church.  We look for the places where God is at work in the neighborhood, or the community, or in the world.  We see God at work in rescue workers in times of disaster, in people willing to speak boldly on issues of justice and peace, in researchers finding cures for disease, and in so many other places.  Today, we are reminded to open our eyes to the places where Jesus is at work right under our noses, doing amazing and marvelous things in our lives and the lives of those we love.  We are called to see Jesus at work in such ordinary, every day places that he might be easy to miss.  Christmas in July is not until next Sunday, and I don’t want to get ahead of myself, but the truth of the incarnation is both that Jesus was born in an ordinary stable 2000 years ago, and Jesus is present in the ordinary stables of our lives now, working in ways we least expect and we most need.   When we can see Jesus at work in ordinary hometown people, what happens can be quite extraordinary.

                                                                             Amen.  

Stones

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

June 24, 2018

7 Proper B

When I was a child, our grandfather would take us down to the pond near his house and teach us how to skip stones across the water.  First, we had to choose a stone that was the right size, fairly flat, and as smooth as possible.  Then he showed us how to use the correct angle and the perfect spin to send the stone skipping across the water.  At first, we could only get the stones to skip once or twice before sinking.  But with some practice, we could get three or four skips across the water.  Our goal was always to get the stone to the other side of the pond, but that never happened. 

We hear about another stone this morning.  This stone was a small stone cast by a small boy at a great foe.  Clearly, David had to have the ability to choose the right stone, the ability to aim accurately, and the strength to land the stone in the right place.  Perhaps David had honed his slingshot skills while protecting his sheep from the lions and bears.  David tells Saul that he has killed lions and bears, and declares his trust that the God who saved him from the lion and the bear would also save him from the great Philistine.  David’s confidence in his own skills and in the God who had kept him safe in the past gave him the courage to take on Goliath.

Courage is perhaps understandably lacking in the disciples this morning.  The disciples and Jesus are crossing the lake when a great windstorm produces such huge waves that the disciples are afraid the boat will be swamped, and they will all drown.  Jesus is asleep in the boat, apparently unconcerned about the impending disaster. The disciples wake Jesus up and say "Teacher, do you not care that we are perishing?" Jesus wakes up and says to the wind and waves "Peace, be still." And the wind and waves calm. Then Jesus says to the disciples "Why are you afraid? Have you still no faith?" And the disciples say to each other "Who is this, that even the wind and sea obey him?"

I find it interesting that Jesus says "Why are you afraid?" rather than  "There is nothing to be afraid of." The difference is huge. The storm is truly fierce.  Drowning is a real possibility.  There is clearly something to fear. The question is why the disciples fear.

The disciples are professional fishermen when Jesus calls them. They have spent a lot of time on the water. At this point, they are probably much better at catching fish than they are at being disciples. So, in theory at least, they have the skills to read the wind and waves and know how to handle this situation, or, better yet avoid the danger in the first place. But in their fear, they forget.  Unlike David, who uses his skills and his trust in God to give him the courage to face a fearsome situation, the disciples forget their skills and do not realize that they are with Jesus, who has power over the wind and waves.  The disciples are paralyzed by their fear and can do nothing in the face of great adversity.

David summoned his skill, his courage, and his trust in God to confront Goliath.  His skill happened to be with a stone and a slingshot.  This week, we have seen other kinds of stones thrown.  We have heard verbal stones thrown with judgement and rancor against people whose views are different from our own, and seen stones cast in a terrible ways against people whose backgrounds or life situations we cannot begin to imagine.  Courage is required to tackle the difficult challenges that face our country with some measure of grace.  The issue of immigration, as with the issue of gun control and other divisive issues, are very complicated issues with no clear or simple solution.  We can easily feel as small as David before Goliath-like issues, or as unable to deal with those issue as the disciples were to deal with the storm.  

However, in the reading from 2 Corinthians, Paul gives us the stones we are to use in the face of such great challenges. Paul wrote of his own challenges of “afflictions, hardships, calamities, beatings, imprisonments, riots, labors, sleepless nights, hunger” which he met with the stones of “purity, knowledge, patience, kindness, holiness of spirit, genuine love, truthful speech, and the power of God.”  These are the stones God has given to use as we work to solve the challenges we face, whether personal challenges, global challenges, or anything in between.  These are the stones we are called to practice skipping across the water over and over again, until our skills are perfected.  These are the stones we have been given to use as we practice keeping our baptismal promise to seek and serve Christ in all people, to work for justice and peace, and to respect the dignity of every human being.  David used his well practiced skills, and his trust in the God who had always kept him safe to give him the courage to do what seemed impossible.  God calls us to our well practiced skills, and our trust in God, so that we have the courage to be the people God calls us to be as we face the daunting challenges of our day.

                                                                             Amen.

Our Offering

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

June 17, 2018

6 Proper B

          In 2014, a Cincinnati restaurant owner realized that every day hundreds of pounds of perfectly good food were going to waste in local restaurants and groceries.  Grocery stores were throwing out produce with slight blemishes and restaurants were throwing out food that had been prepared but never served.  The restaurant owner was Suzy DeYoung, a gourmet chef who owned a French bistro in the city.   Rather than throw out the food she had prepared but never served, Suzi began using that food to create great meals for people in Cincinnati who are food insecure.  Eventually, Suzy transitioned from her life as a restaurant owner and French chef to launch La Soupe, an organization dedicated to rescuing perishable food from grocery stores and restaurants and creating delicious healthy meals to serve at soup kitchens and homeless shelters. Today, La Soupe rescues about 5000 pounds of perishable food each week and creates meals for 2000 people.  Through La Soupe, local chefs also teach low income high school students how to create delicious soups from rescued produce.  Each student receives a crock-pot and ingredients to take home so they can cook for their families.  A ministry that began with one person rescuing fruits and vegetables to serve a few hungry people has become a force in Cincinnati where a large group of volunteers use perfectly good food that would otherwise go to the landfill to feed literally thousands of people each week.

          This morning, we hear Jesus say "The Kingdom of God is as if someone would scatter seed on the ground, and would sleep and rise night and day, and the seed would sprout and grow, he does not know how." Then Jesus says "The Kingdom of God is like a mustard seed, which, when sown upon the ground, is the smallest of all the seeds on earth; yet when it is sown it grows up and becomes the greatest of all shrubs." These two parables point to something of the mystery of the Kingdom of God. When Jesus began his ministry, his first words were "The Kingdom of God has arrived, repent and believe in the good news." These parables tell us that the Kingdom of God is growing in our midst, starting from something so small as to perhaps look useless and eventually becoming so large that all the birds of the air can make nests there.

          However, these parables also make the emerging Kingdom of God seem effortless. The seed just sprouts and grows and all of a sudden, there is a harvest and the planter does not know how. Or what starts as the tiniest of seeds just becomes the greatest of all shrubs. Poof! Just like that. But when we go about the work God has given us to do, working to make the fullness of the Kingdom of God a more present reality in our own world, that work does not happen without effort. Whether we’re working with Habitat for Humanity to build homes for low income families, or serving dinner at Welcome Table or Family Promise, or teaching Vacation Bible School to help our children learn how to serve, or whatever we do to work for justice and peace in the world around us, a great deal of work is required by a large number of people. Certainly the work of La Soupe does not happen without a lot of effort.  That work may be joyful, wonderful work, but the effort required is still work. If the Kingdom of God is supposed to just grow in our midst the way a seed grows into a plant, why does cultivating the Kingdom of God require so much effort?

          When Jesus announced that the Kingdom of God has arrived, he did not just sit back and watch the show. Jesus himself put in an awful lot of hours preaching, teaching, praying, feeding, healing and otherwise going about the work of growing the Kingdom of God. That is our first clue that perhaps these parables are not about the Kingdom just magically emerging in our midst. The second clue is that Jesus consistently taught in parables, not to state the seemingly obvious, but to get us to look beyond appearances and think deeply about the mystery that is the Kingdom of God. If these two parables are not about God’s kingdom growing in our midst without any effort on our part, what are the parables saying to us?

          In our reading from I Samuel this morning, we hear the story of a small boy who will become a great King. God’s choice of David is a surprising choice.  First, God sends Samuel off to find Jesse the Bethlehemite because God has chosen a king from among Jesse’s sons. Jesse’s grandmother was Ruth, a Moabite so not a pure Israelite, making anyone from her family a surprising choice for a king of Israel. Secondly, when Samuel sees the oldest son, who would be the obvious choice from among the sons, God says "Do not look on his appearance, or on the height of his stature, because I have rejected him. For the Lord does not see as mortals see. They look on the outward appearance, but the Lord looks on the heart."  Eventually 7 of Jesse’s sons pass before Samuel and God does not chose any of them. Jesse has one more son, the very youngest, but that son is out tending the sheep. David, the least likely son from an unlikely family, is anointed king in the presence of his brothers, and, we are told, "the Spirit of the Lord came mightily upon David from that day forward."                                                                                                                                                                                                                                     

The story of David might also make us think that something great comes from something very small with no effort.   However, David may have become a great king, but as we will see over the next few weeks, David’s success did not come without effort and did come despite some significant failures.  So there is more to the story of David than simply someone small becoming someone great.

          The parable of the mustard seed and the story of the call of David remind us that God will take what we have to offer, even when we believe our offering is too small to make a difference and use our offering to help bring about the Kingdom of God.  When we think that the time we have to offer is not enough to matter, or the money we can give won’t make a difference, or our one vote, or phone call or letter to our representatives in Congress will be a drop in the bucket of protest, we are called to remember the mustard seed, or the little boy who became a great King, or how some kale and potatoes became an abundance for hungry people in Cincinnati.  When we trust God with what we have, no matter the size, the gospel tells us that God can do more than we could ask or imagine.

                                                                                      Amen.

One

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

May 27, 2018

Trinity Sunday

          My brother, sister, and I have been going through thousands of family photos lately.  My sister has done the bulk of the work, sorting photos into piles, packing them up and sending them off to various friends and relatives. I fear that we will soon be like the people who grow vast quantities of zucchini and drop the vegetable off on peoples’ porches, ring the bell and run.  We’ll just be dealing in photos, not zucchini.  But those photos remind us of the larger story to which we belong and all the people with whom we are connected.  We remember grandparents and aunts and uncles and the impact they had on our lives.  We remember our connection with relatives who came before us and died long before we were born, but whose traits we continue to carry.  We remember family gatherings where we played with cousins we rarely saw, or neighborhood picnics that brought a diversity of people together for a shared meal.  Stories are part of the way we make sense of who we are in this world, and photos tell wonderful stories.

          Scripture also tells such stories.  In the liturgical year, we have traveled through Advent as we prepared for the arrival of the Christ child. Epiphany is next with the arrival of the Magi to meet the child Jesus and the season following in which we hear about the early ministry of Jesus.  Then we journey through Lent in preparation for Easter, the glorious celebration of the resurrection which lasts 50 days until Pentecost.  Last Sunday, we celebrated Pentecost and marked the descent of the Holy Spirit on the disciples.  So, now our story includes God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Spirit, or God the Creator, God the Redeemer, and God the Sustainer and today we arrive at Trinity Sunday.  On Trinity Sunday, we proclaim our belief in one God in three persons as revealed in Scripture.

          If Scripture would just explain how one God can be three persons, then perhaps we could actually understand the Trinity.  But nowhere in Scripture do we find an explanation for the way one God can simultaneously be Father and Son and Holy Spirit, or as Augustine put it, Lover, Beloved, and Love.  What Scripture does give us are stories, and this morning we hear two great ones.  We hear the story of Isaiah’s vision in the temple, complete with special effects worthy of George Lucas.  God’s presence is huge, awesome, and perhaps somewhat frightening.  At the end of the story, God asks “Whom shall I send and who will go for us?”  And Isaiah replies “Here I am, send me.”  Our reading ends with those lovely words, but truth in preaching requires me to tell you that what comes next is not pleasant.  What God is sending Isaiah to do is tell God’s people how far they have strayed from being the people God made them to be and preach their impending destruction. 

          We also hear the story of Nicodemus this morning.  Nicodemus comes to Jesus by night trying to figure out who Jesus is.  “Rabbi, we know that you are a teacher who has come from God; for no one can do these signs that you do apart from the presence of God.”  Jesus tells Nicodemus that in order to see the Kingdom of God, he must be born from above by water and the Spirit.  In contrast to Isaiah’s language where God is huge and awesome, Jesus uses the intimate language of childbirth to describe our relationship to God.  Nicodemus never does get a straight answer to his question, but in this story we do get a reference to God, Jesus, and the Spirit, along with perhaps the most well-known passage of Scripture: ““For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life.”

          Our stories this morning are just a small sample of the stories of Scripture that tell us about our God who, by God’s very nature, has always been in relationship as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit even before creation, and about the God who is both distant and near.  God may be other worldly in Isaiah, but God needs Isaiah to deliver God’s message to the people.  God needed Isaiah just as God needs us to do God’s work in the world.  The reading from Romans is not a story as Paul was not much of a story-teller.  But Paul reminds us that the Spirit working within us allows us to call God “Abba” and makes us children of God, to be in relationship with God in that familial way.  And the story of Nicodemus, as confusing as that story might be, gives us a picture of the intimate relationship God wants with us and God’s desire that we be in relationship with God forever.  In the creation story in Genesis 1, we are told that humans are made in the image of the God.  On Trinity Sunday, we are reminded that the God in whose image we are made has been in relationship since before creation.  By our very nature, we are created to live in relationship with God and each other in a way that makes us one as the three parts of the Trinity are one. 

          Into this story and this relationship, Violet Harvey will be baptized this morning.  The story of God and God’s people becomes Violet’s story, and we, as Violet’s church, will promise to help Violent make sense of that story.  Violet will learn about the way God calls us to be in relationship with God and the whole human family by the way we keep the Baptismal Covenant we renew this morning.  When we continue in the breaking of bread and the prayers, when we repent and return when we sin, when we proclaim the gospel in word and action, work for justice and peace, and respect the dignity of every human being, we live like people who know we made in the image of God who is relationship.  The way we live our lives tells Violet and the world the story of the God who makes us one as the God in whose image we are made is one.                                        

Amen.

Wind

Charlotte Collins Reed

Christ Church Episcopal

May 20, 2018

Pentecost

When I was growing up, my family spent the summers sailing on Lake Maumelle, just outside of Little Rock. We started off with a Sunfish, a small sailboat with one sail and not much between us and the water. Most summer afternoons, the 5 of us would pile into our old Volkswagen Beetle, with the rudder sticking out the sunroof since there is not room in a 1968 Volkswagen Beetle for 5 people and a rudder, and off we would go, pulling the boat on a trailer behind us.

Sailing, I quickly learned, is all about the wind.  Since there is not one thing we can do to make more wind, less wind, or wind from another direction, we had to learn to work with the wind.  The best ride, of course, was when we wanted to go in the same direction as a nice strong wind. All you have to do is let the sail out to catch the wind and away you go.  Stopping is little hard to do without winding up in the water, but practice makes perfect. The hardest work was when we wanted to sail into the wind. That requires setting the sail as closely as possible to the direction of the wind and using the weight of our bodies to keep the boat tilted at the most effective angle. That was a lot of work, but it was also a thrilling ride. Then, of course, there were the times when the wind completely abandoned us. That is why we always took a paddle with us.  Sailboats were not designed to be paddled, however, so getting around with no wind was a lot of work and no fun.

          On this Pentecost morning, we hear about wind of another sort as a great rushing wind fills the room and tongues of fire land on the disciples.  This year, Pentecost falls at the end of a weekend that has seen both deep grief and great joy.  On Friday, we witnessed yet another school shooting, this time in Texas. This time, 10 people were killed and another 10 were wounded.  While Columbine and Sandy Hook seemed to draw us together in grief and the desire to do something to keep our children safe, now school shootings seem to move us further apart.  If we cannot agree about keeping our children safe, what can we possibly agree on?  In the face of division and inertia, sometimes I feel like the wind has abandoned us and we are left paddling a sailboat upstream with no help. 

          On the other hand, I like many people, got up early yesterday morning to watch the fairy tale wedding of Prince Harry and Meghan Markle.  Two people in love, a great liturgy, wonderful music and a spectacular sermon are worth getting out of bed for in my book.  A wedding often brings people together, but this royal wedding brought people together from all over the globe.  Throngs of people lined the streets to see the newly married couple and to rejoice in their love for each other.  Millions more watched the wedding on television.  The love Meghan and Harry have for each other shone in their faces, which were as bright as the sunshine that radiated on the day.  All seemed right with the world for a few brief moments, as if the whole world was sailing with the wind at our backs.

          Our Presiding Bishop began his sermon at the wedding with a quote from Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.  which reminded us that real love is no fairy tale.  He said "We must discover the power of love, the power, the redemptive power of love. And when we do that, we will make of this old world a new world. But love, love is the only way."  The wind and fire that the disciples experienced on Pentecost was the power of the Holy Spirit, which is the power of love.  The power of the Holy Spirit that gave the disciples the ability to speak in many languages so that everyone heard the gospel in their native language was the power of love that binds us together as one human family.  That love is easy to see at an event like a royal wedding.  That love is less easy to see as we deal time and again, or perhaps more accurately fail to deal time and again, with the challenges of our time.

          In the gospel reading, we hear Jesus promise the disciples that after he is gone, he will send the Advocate.  Earlier in John’s gospel, Jesus said “I will ask the Father and He will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever.” Then Jesus says “But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you.”  What Jesus has said to his followers is that they are to abide in Jesus’ love.  The Advocate, the Holy Spirit, will be with the disciples and us forever, to remind us to abide in God’s love. 

          At the end of Bishop Curry’s sermon yesterday, he quoted the 20^th century Jesuit Roman Catholic priest Pierre Teilhard de Chardin, who said that fire was one of the greatest discoveries in all of human history.  Curry went on to quote de Chardin as saying that if humanity ever harnesses the energy of fire again, if humanity ever captures the energy of love, it will be the second time in history that we have discovered fire.  Actually, Pentecost calls us to the reality that we do not have to discover fire.  On Pentecost, fire and wind discovered us, and gave us the power to conquer all challenges with love.  Pentecost calls us to claim power of the wind that never abandons us and the power of the fire that can never be extinguished and go forth in the name of love to make God’s difference in the world.  God is not going to change the world for us.  Pentecost is God’s declaration that God is going to change the world with us. 

                                                                             Amen.