Showing posts with label sacred. Show all posts
Showing posts with label sacred. Show all posts

Friday, December 8, 2017

Sermon: Thin Place



A Sermon Preached at
All Saints Episcopal Church, Pontiac, MI
A Renewal of Ministry and
Welcoming of New Rector:
The Rev. Chris Johnson
Thursday, December 7, 2017
By The Rev. Vicki K. Hesse
Director of the Whitaker Institute, Episcopal Diocese of Michigan

May the words of my mouth and
the meditation of all our hearts be acceptable to you,
O Lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

Scripture texts here

Bishop Gibbs, Priest Chris, congregation of All Saints,
ministry colleagues and friends,
I am honored to speak with you tonight
and begin by offering thanks…

Thanks to God for the people of All Saints
and for your parish leaders
who have faithfully guided the congregation
through a season of transition
– you have been waiting a long time for this moment!

Thanks to the Holy Spirit for bringing Chris
into discernment with All Saints
and all that resulted in his call to join you in ministry.
And I give thanks for family and friends
who have surrounded him on every side.
* Tonight is a happy occasion
to preach the good news of salvation,
in this Thin Place,
where you have been drawn together
by the One
who created
One new humanity,
who reconciled
all creation
to One God
through the One body
and who gave access
to the One Spirit,[1]
as members of the household of God.

Surprisingly, perhaps, a small seed
for this happy occasion
began in a different “Thin Place,”
where I first met Christ some 15 or 20 years ago
in the Diocese of Colorado.

Chris had sent a call out for any available churches
to help at his parish with badly needed repairs. 
Our parish bulletin that week included this invitation,
so , as a parishioner, I joined others from our church and
we showed up at Chris’s church one Saturday afternoon
for a work day across town.

Chris greeted us, gave us a quick tour of the building
and turned us loose on the stairwell for repainting and repair.
as he met other groups in various parts of the church building.
His presence was very kind
and he trusted us (amazingly)
to figure out what needed to happen. 

Thankfully, we had a professional painter
as well as several handy and skilled workers in our little group
who guided those of us that were less-gifted
and had brought, innocently enough, no tools or skills for the day.

In *that* Thin Place, I personally learned about
the joy of working on projects with parishioner-mates
whom I barely knew,
for someone who I had just met,
in a part of Denver previously unknown to me.

And I don’t remember much more about that day.
A seed was planted in my heart for
the adventures that can arise
when we somehow hear The Lord’s call
to go on ahead of him.

And, *this moment is another “Thin Place”
in the full sense of the phrase.
“Thin places,” one author writes,
“…are places where the distance
between heaven and earth collapses
and we’re able to catch glimpses of the divine.”[2] 

Thin places often disorient, confuse, or redirect us
to find new ways of being. 
Thin places jolt us out of old ways of seeing the world
to transform our vision. 
Thin places surprise us in mesmerizing geography
like the rocky peaks of Iona
where the wind and water meet the shore. 

The Celtic people say,
“Heaven and earth are only three feet apart,
but in Thin Places that distance is even shorter.”[3]

Thin places, Isaiah reminds us,
invite us to the house of the God of Jacob,
where God teaches us God’s ways
so that we may walk in Sacred paths.

Thin places surprise us
when sharp weapons are transformed for good use
– tilling the land and shaping the trees –
to feed hungry people in peace.

Thin places, the Gospel reminds us, draw us
to labor with deep soul-work
through the plentiful aching, pain and war –
to labor in the midst of wolves
who seek to destroy God’s vision of peace,
to labor with nothing but our Lov,e
to eat what is set before us,
to harvest a peace that passes understanding,
which the world cannot give,
to hold a vision for the Kingdom of God.

And, indeed, *this new pastoral relationship moment
is a Thin Place.

Sometimes the world seems very far from Thin Places.
Like when governments make laws and budgets
that hurt those already on the margins.
When society indulges in uncivil discourse
with words and name calling that wound our souls. 
When a dear loved one dies,
when a long-time relationship ends,
or when we make mistakes,
only to realize it’s too late to ask for forgiveness. 
These are places that seem far from “Thin.”

Yet in times like tonight, God makes a place “Thin,”
and that we know that
when we experience the apparent absence of God
we faithful Christians know God
in the paradoxical intimacy of Jesus,
closer than our breath.

* This Thin Place proclaims God incarnate
right here, right now,
where we cannot be wounded by the world,
where compassion fuels our empathy for one another,
where God’s wide open mercy pours out on you and me.

And so tonight in this Thin Place, I offer some charges.
Chris, will you please stand? 

I charge you:
To stay awake.
To stay alert to this Thin Place. 
To here. To presence.
As Rilke once said, “To be here is immense.”[4]
Remember that.

And now that you are here, with this congregation,
you enter the inheritance
of everything that has preceded you
– you are an heir to this place.
The Holy Spirit has chosen you
and brought you through your “forest of dreaming”
until you could emerge
on the path of life,
in *this Thin Place.

So, I charge you
to witness the ongoing work of this community,
to harvest the wisdom of the invisible, sacred world
and to know and share God’s love for you
and all God’s children
who pass before you. 

Will you, with God’s help?        

And to the congregation, All Saints.  Will you please stand? 

I charge you
to go to those Thin Places where Jesus himself intends to go,
to seek out Thin Places where your hearts burst
with love for and with ache of the world. 
to live into your heritage and mission,
fueled by your Benedictine vow of Stability –
to stay in this community
and serve the Christ among you
to challenge your passions and to find rest for your souls,
so that all nations will stream to your light.

Will you, with God’s help?        

My friends….

May God give you strength and
May God give you grace.

For indeed, this is a Thin Place.

Where the Kingdom of God has come near!
Amen.


[1] Eph 2:13-22

[2] Cited at Eric Weinstein’s March 9, 2012 New York Times article, found here: http://www.nytimes.com/2012/03/11/travel/thin-places-where-we-are-jolted-out-of-old-ways-of-seeing-the-world.html
[3] Ibid.
[4] John O’Donohue, “To Bless The Space Between Us,” p. 186

Tuesday, May 3, 2016

Sermon: That's It.

Sunday, April 24, 2016
The 5th Sunday of Easter, Year C
The Rev. Vicki K. Hesse, Associate
That's It
Listen here. 

In 2007, Professor Randy Pausch gave a speech entitled “Really Achieving Your Childhood Dreams,”
at Carnegie Mellon University.  It became a best seller, “The Last Lecture.” The talk had been part of a series that invited professors to share reflections on their professional journey while encouraging a freedom to talk about their own interests.  This “Last Lecture” tradition endures even today.  The pervading question is, “what legacy would you like to leave?”  In this spirit, faculty members showcase their particular knowledge and encourage the intellectual curiosity of students and the community.

Today’s gospel text, which begins, “When Judas had gone out…” marks the beginning of the end. Jesus wraps up his conversations in a kind of Last Lecture, teaching the disciples of their distinctive mark. The intimacy of the conversation is striking: “Little children,” he says to the grown adults around the table, “listen to me now…I’m getting ready to go where you cannot come.  It’s important we have this time now.”
We all can relate to this kind of final, intimate, intense conversation that we all will have or have had with loved ones.  The moment lasts an eternity: it is at once a sacred, honorable time – and many of us would rather not have it. Yet, we are compelled into it. It is not easy.

Jesus lays it out clearly (not in his usual way of speaking in parables).  “Love one another.”

That’s it.

As one NT scholar[1] wrote, “[this] new command is simple enough for a toddler to memorize and appreciate and it is profound enough that the most mature believers are repeatedly embarrassed at how poorly they comprehend it and put it into practice.”

“By this, everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.”  Honestly, how embarrassing it is for us Christians to remember that Jesus wanted us to focus on this one thing. It’s hard to put into practice, maybe because it is so radical, focusing on love within and among members of the faith community.

A friend of mine recalled a conversation she had with a brother of SSJE – Society of St. John the Evangelist, an Anglican religious order. “Why do you say the confession every. single. day?” she asked the brother.  He replied, “Because we live in community. We need to say it.”

But, Jesus explained, the community’s love for one another was – and is – the distinctive mark of Jesus’ disciples.  Jesus was aware of the crippling divisions within the Christian community – then, and now.  A brief google search reveals that there are between 30,000 and 40,000 Christian denominations worldwide. [2]  There is nothing easy here, Jesus reminds his disciples.

“Love one another,” he says, in the midst of their betrayal of him.
“Love one another,” he models, with servant love by washing feet.
“Love one another,” he insists, while giving away his life for God.

Love one another, and you will know grace and love and that deep peace which the world cannot give. And, it will be difficult.

There is a story[3] in Isak Dinesen’s book “Out of Africa” about a boy named Kitau. The author recounts Kitau’s arrival at her door one day to ask for a job as a domestic servant.  She hired him, but just after three months he surprised her: asking for a letter of recommendation to his new employer, Sheik Ali bin Salim.  The Sheik was a Muslim who lived in a nearby town.  Dinesen tried offering to raise Kitau’s pay in order to keep him, but money was not his interest.

Kitau was discerning whether to become a Christian or a Muslim and his purpose in working for Dinesen had been to see, up close, the way a Christian lived.  Now that he had worked for Dinesen and seen the ways of Christians, he would go and observe Sheik Ali to see how Muslims behave.  After this, he would decide.  The author remembers how she wished Kitau had told her that before he came to live with her.
Pause

The newness of this command is not that it had never before been taught (it is in Leviticus.)[4] The newness is found in the source of that love As one commentator said, “You are to love one another – not by copying my fruit, but by connecting to my vine. You don’t mainly imitate, you participate.  Your love for each other is not a simulation of mine, but a manifestation of mine… this is how all people know you are truly my disciples.”[5]

To love one another means to find a new relationship with our community – which is the wounded and the resurrected body of Christ. It means:
To trust one another with our vulnerability, and to risk loving recklessly
To accept our own and each others’ wounded and aging bodies, and to see each other with transformed eyes of boundless grace
To forgive one another for denying God’s goodness in us, and to see the face of Christ in the one sitting beside us

This coming week, I will attend a conference in Dio Tx called “Invite, Welcome, Connect,” which will teach both clergy and lay leaders how to encourage a culture of Love One Another.  We will share ideas and learn how to grow our congregations into flourishing, and vital communities who Love One Another.

See, our distinctive Christian mark is how we love one another.  When Christ’s love takes deep root within us, as at our baptism, we glorify God just for being. As one mystic[6] reminds us, “The wound is the place where the Light enters you.” When we love one another, especially in our mutual brokenness, God’s light heals enters our community and makes us whole, revealing God’s glory.

And lest we think that this commandment is only for those in our human community, on this Earth Day weekend,  I wonder what would it be like to understand Jesus as saying, "Love my creation with all your heart" and, "Love my world as you love yourself."  With that perspective, how might humanity treat the earth and all it holds?

Many of us feel nourishing love when we connect with the natural world: the sun and moon and stars, the ocean and river, mountains and meadows, (all that is listed in Psalm 148) our connection to all beings, human or not.  Might “love one another” mean living lightly, spending our time on earth in healing the world? Might “love one another” mean cheerfully taking only what we need and allowing the rest to sustain other creatures? Might we see ‘every day as Earth Day,’ and love one another, humans and non-humans alike?

This is not easy work, being Jesus’ disciples.  Judas had gone out.  Jesus gave the simple, yet hard, commandment. No more parables or paradoxes.  He said, “little children, love one another.”
May God’s glory shine through God’s Love that is unbounded, through God’s forgiveness that is unending and through God’s acceptance that is unfettered.

Love one another.
Amen.

[1] D.A. Carson, “The Gospel According to John (Leicester, England: APOLLOS, 1991), 484, as offered in “Feasting On The Word: Pastoral Perspective: John 13: 31-35,” Fifth Sunday of Easter, p.468
[2] Cited at https://theway21stcentury.wordpress.com/2012/11/23/how-many-christian-de... on April 22, 2016
[3] Inspired by “Feasting On The Word: Pastoral Perspective: John 13: 31-35,” Fifth Sunday of Easter
[4] Leviticus 19:18
[5] Cited at http://www.desiringgod.org/messages/as-i-have-loved-you-love-one-another on April 22, 2016
[6] Quote from Rumi cited at http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/103315-the-wound-is-the-place-where-the-...

Friday, January 15, 2016

Sermon: Holy Ground



The First Sunday after The Epiphany

(RCL The Baptism of our Lord, Year C)
A sermon preached at 
Christ Church Episcopal Grosse Pointe
January 10, 2016
The Rev. Vicki Hesse, January 10, 2016

May the words of my mouth and the meditation of all hearts be acceptable to you, O Lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen
Listen to this sermon here

One of the things on the
list-of-things-to-do-in-my-life
is to stand in Times Square
waiting for the “ball to drop.” 

While I’m not one who usually
seeks out crowds of people,
watching this happen on TV
gives me a glimpse of what it must be like.

Everyone is filled with expectation,
questioning in their hearts
what will happen next,
or what will happen this coming year. 
It’s a happy event with crowds, uncertainty,
and a messy, shoulder-to-shoulder community
where I imagine
I would just feel part of something bigger.

Maybe that was the scene by the river
from our Gospel text today. 
People crowded the banks of the river,
filled with expectation. 
They questioned in their hearts,
peering over the heads of folks in front,
mumbling…“what is happening?”
“what is he saying?” “who is that guy?
Is he the one to make things better?”

As their feet slipped on the river bank,
the mud squished between their toes. 
The tension rose and
the throng pressed close to John,
to hear how he answered their questions. 
As he yelled above the crowd,
those in the distance heard
only punctuated phrases:
I… water…Powerful One… Holy Spirit … fire!

The people strained to hear
what John was saying,
because they knew this message
was for all the people gathered –
and for all people yet to come. 
John answered –
not just for the oppressed,
not just for royalty,
not just for the Israelites,
not just for the Gentiles.
The message that John gave was for all people.

But the cryptic language they heard
just fueled the tension …
– wait, what? Someone more powerful?
And what’s that about Spirit and Fire?
They mumbled among themselves.
What is really happening here?

Which is what we do sometimes, too, don’t we?
When expectation fills us
about a certain event or certain leader
or certain solution or hoped-for answer,
we question in our hearts,
what is really happening here?

When we stand shoulder to shoulder at rallies,
or when making Crossroads meals,
or when lining up at the coffee shop. 
We chatter to each other nervously,
hoping to get a glimpse of who or what we think will “heal us” or “save us” or “fix us.”

And in the cryptic language of society,
through the din of the crowd,
we can’t hear the voice of the Holy One,
and that only increases our expectation
and questioning. 
We mumble among ourselves,
What is really happening here?

What really happened that day at The River
was something even John
could not fully explain, although he tried.
What happened was
beyond their control,
beyond their ability to explain.
What happened arose from God and
could not be channeled or
made to fit their preconceived notions.
It was a mystery.

Once all the people were baptized,
including Jesus, heaven was opened,
and the Holy Spirit was palpably present. 
And the people heard a voice saying,
“You are my Son, the Beloved,
with you I am well pleased!”

At that moment suddenly everyone hushed. 
The sound of the river shushed.
The stench of the crowd waft.
Time stopped.  (pause)
And for a minute that lasted for eternity, everyone knew they were
part of something big!
Witness to the opening of heaven!

What was really happening
was that God revealed God’s self, in Jesus.  What was really happening
was God revealing God’s true character,
Love for all of creation.

Through the opening of heaven,
God blessed Jesus.
Through the voice from heaven,
translated from Hebrew as “Daughter Voice,” God affirmed how much God loved
that One, that particular one,
identified as Jesus.

When that one individual from the crowd –
Jesus – submitted to God’s grace,
everyone realized their participation
in a sacred moment; that “something bigger.”

They realized that
the heavens opened and the voice of God spoke
not just for Jesus
but for them, too.
Not just the oppressed, not just the royalty.
Not just the Israelites, not just the Gentiles. For all.

Today we witness the sacrament of baptism
in another one, a particular one,
Emmy Bachand.  In this sacrament,
we will see heaven open
and hear the voice of God
claiming Emmy as God’s child,
with whom God is well-pleased. 

We will see
water in the font, fire in the candle,
baby in the arms of the priest,
and we will hear
the sounds of the splashing water,
words of the liturgy,
tunes of a hymn,
and we will smell
the wax of burning candles,
the scent of community near us,
the oil of the chrism,
and we will taste that single drop of water
as it runs from the forehead,
down the cheek to the lips of the baptized. 
We will feel the cool water
as its deep wetness
soaks into every pore of our being.[1] 

And in those outward signs, we will know God’s inner grace.
Even though it is only Emmy baptized today,
the rest of us are never mere observers –
this sacrament totally absorbs us
and God surrounds us in every dimension. 
Something Bigger is happening here!

With Emmy’s baptism,
we announce her adoption as
one of God’s children into our Christian family.
With Emmy’s baptism,
we join in a sacred encounter,
with something bigger than ourselves:
when fully human meets the fully divine.

So today,
as Emmy approaches the baptismal font,
I invite you to take off your shoes and
stand in stocking- or barefeet. 
PAUSE
Use your bodily form to participate…
For we are all standing on holy ground
of the sacramental moment of Baptism.

Can you see it? Can you hear it? 
The heavens are opening today! The voice of God is speaking!

Today, we hear,
EMMY! 
YOU ARE MY BELOVED!
WITH YOU I AM WELL PLEASED!                      

Amen


[1] This section inspired by The Rev. Jeanne Finan’s fine book Remember Your Baptism: Ten Meditations  (Cowley Publications, Cambridge MA, 2004)