Palm Sunday Sermon

O Lord, in our weakness, be our strength; in our troubles, be our peace; in our danger, be our shelter; in our fears, be our hope; and be with us evermore. Amen.

When Jesus entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, "Who is this?"

Each of us must answer that same question – who is this Jesus?

The crowds on that first Palm Sunday answered it by laying their cloaks on the road, and others cut palm branches from the trees and spread them on the road. The crowds that went ahead of Jesus and those that followed were shouting, “Hosanna to the Son of David! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord!”

This is the King (son of David), the Messiah, the one was going to change everything. So many had hopes and dreams of new and better lives. But he was a king who rode in on a humble donkey... Bishop Laura last week reminded us to consider the movement we hear about in the biblical stories; we are invited to walk with the crowd, shouting Hosanna! Laying down our clothes, our palms…

When Jesus entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, "Who is this?"

But as the movement enters Jerusalem, even as there is much excitement & hope, there are those opposed to Jesus in fear and power and the other crowds who would not be so welcoming…

Pilate said to them, “Which of the two do you want me to release for you?” And they said, “Barabbas.” Pilate said to them, “Then what should I do with Jesus who is called the Messiah?” All of them said, “Let him be crucified!” Then he asked, “Why, what evil has he done?” But they shouted all the more, “Let him be crucified!”

For many he was a failure. He didn’t defeat Rome. He was captured. He didn’t bring new life, all they could see was death. Hopes and dreams dashed along the rocks, palms trampled underfoot, the movement would not be triumphant, but a journey to suffering and death.

When Jesus entered Jerusalem, the whole city was in turmoil, asking, "Who is this?"
But before Pilate and another crowd, they answered about Jesus, “Let him be crucified.”

Today we witness the crowds welcoming Jesus with waving palm branches and laying their cloaks & palms as he rides by on a simple donkey. But by the end of the week Jesus will be hanging on a tree, alone and abandoned.

The question today's Palm Sunday liturgy asks each one of us as we journey in his movement: Who is this Jesus? Do we walk away from Jesus? At what point do we and Jesus part company?

We welcome Jesus into our own Jerusalems today. We have hope in him. He speaks of a "kingdom of God" in which we are forgiven, we are healed, we are loved & renewed. So when does that hope die and we drop the palm branches, pick up our cloaks, and walk away…

· When Jesus asks us to take up our own crosses?

· When he insists that we sell all we have and give to the poor?

When he spends too much of his time with the pitiful, the incorrigible, the nobodies - and holds up the least among us as the "model" of God's kingdom?

When he tries to drag us out of the safe little "tombs" we have dug for ourselves where we feel safe and in control and isolated from the evil of the world and the challenges of today?

When he makes us embrace a faith that is centered on selfless and humble works of charity & forgiveness then on mere words?

Or do we make ourselves scarce when the heat is on:

· Do we try and diminish our knowing Jesus when someone starts to ask too many questions? Or do we fail to live the faith is in us when others are condemning the least among us?

· Do we finally walk away at that last moment on the cross, admiring Jesus but disappointed in him and sorry for ourselves?

One more nice guy finishing last. One more deluded Savior who fails. One more martyr for a cause we don't quite get.

Who is this Jesus? What do our lives say?

To this day, Jesus disappoints many who would be his followers. He is not the political icon that some try to use to condemn beliefs, attitudes and lifestyles that conflict with the conventional, the accepted, the norm; he is not the scourge of an angry God sent to comfort the self-righteous and destroy the heathen; Jesus enters human history neither to revolutionize politics nor topple temples.

Jesus comes to transform our human hearts away from the hardened stones we let them too often become, to re-ignite our spirits in the love of the God who yearns for all of creation to realize his original dream for a world of peace and justice. May these palms help us understand what our baptism into the death and resurrection of Jesus demands of us. As we welcome the Christ of victory on Easter, may we be just as welcoming of the Christ of suffering; as we embrace the Gospel of the Jesus of love, may we also embrace the Jesus of justice, of humility, of selflessness; as we try to imitate Jesus' compassion, may we be willing to imitate his limitless reconciliation, unconditional love & forgiveness for all.

The story will not end on the cross at the end of his passion, for we will continue that story in our journey of Maundy Thursday, Good Friday & Easter, but for now we must be willing to continue to be in the Jesus movement, to continue to walk with him. As a wonderful little prayer for children put it:

I will walk with Jesus.
- But you may be betrayed.

I will walk with Jesus.
- But you may be abandoned.

I will walk with Jesus.
- But you may be given a cross too heavy to bear.

I will walk with Jesus.
- But you cannot know where that may lead.

I will walk with Jesus.
-Then may Jesus walk with you through life & through death. (by Lois Rock)

May it be so for all of us. “I will walk with Jesus” as we bear our palm branches along the way to the cross (and beyond). Amen.

Holy Week Guide

Holy Week to Easter

Holy Week in the Christian Calendar is the week immediately before Easter. As early as the latter half of the 3rd century and early 4th century, we hear of the custom of marking this week as a whole with special observances. Wherever this finds you during this Spring Break, we hope that the events of this week and the services of worship in our community will bring you closer to the love of Christ poured out on the cross and triumphant rising from the grave.

Palm Sunday, April 9 (Services 8 & 10:15 AM)

The Sunday before Easter at which Jesus' triumphal entry into Jerusalem and Jesus' Passion on the cross are recalled. It is also known as the Sunday of the Passion. Palm Sunday is the first day of Holy Week. The observance of Palm Sunday in Jerusalem was witnessed by the pilgrim Egeria in about 381-384. During this observance there was a procession of people down the Mount of Olives into Jerusalem. The people waved branches of palms or olive trees as they walked. They sang psalms, including Ps 118, and shouted the antiphon, "Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord!" The Palm Sunday observance was generally accepted throughout the church by the twelfth century.

Holy Tuesday, April 11

Renewal of Ordination Vows and Blessing of Holy Oils at Christ Church Cathedral, Hartford

Holy Wednesday, April 12 (Service at 7 PM)


In Western Christianity, the Wednesday before Easter is sometimes known as 'Spy Wednesday', indicating that this is the day Judas Iscariot first conspired with the Sanhedrin to betray Jesus for thirty silver coins. This event is described in three Gospels: Matthew 26:14-16, Mark 14:10-12, Luke 22:3-6. A service called Tenebrae is offered on this night at 7 PM. Tenebrae (plural of the Latin word for ‘darkness’) is a liturgy of increasing darkness and lengthening shadows in preparation for Maundy Thursday and Good Friday.

The Easter Triduum

Since the early centuries of Christianity, the word triduum, meaning a period of three days, has been used to describe the period which begins with the Last Supper and the arrest of Jesus and ends on Easter morning with the proclamation of the resurrection. The Church's liturgies over these three days (Maundy Thursday, Good Friday, and the Great Vigil) belong to this season alone, and are wonderfully rich in symbolic drama, as we seek to participate in the mysteries of Jesus' passion and death.

Maundy Thursday, April 13 (Service at 6 PM)

On that first Holy Thursday, the disciples fell asleep. Can we not watch with him? The word Maundy is derived (through Middle English and Old French mandé) from the Latin mandatum, the first word
of the of the statement by Jesus in the Gospel of John (13.34) by which Jesus explained to the disciples the significance of his washing their feet: "Mandatum novum do vobis ut diligatis invicem sicut dilexi vos" ("A new commandment I give unto you, That you love one another; as I have loved
you").

This day also commemorates the Last Supper of Christ. The celebration of this Eucharist marks the beginning of the Sacred Paschal Triduum that concludes with the Easter Vigil. Many churches offer a vigil following the service at what is called an Altar of Repose, where the Blessed Sacrament (the bread which was consecrated at the Eucharist) is reserved throughout the night. Keeping watch before the Sacrament in the darkness of this night can be a very powerful experience.

Good Friday, April 14 (Service at 7 PM)

Good Friday is the only day of the year on which (in many churches) we receive the body of Christ not in the context of a Eucharist which we are celebrating, but through the Blessed Sacrament which has been kept ("reserved") on the Altar of Repose throughout the night. Once we have received Communion and consumed that which remains, the church becomes empty of the sacramental presence of Christ until the Eucharist is celebrated again at the Easter Vigil service.


Good Friday, also called Holy Friday, Great Friday or Black Friday (not the same as the American ‘Black Friday’ for shopping in November...), commemorates the Cruci1ixion of Jesus Christ and his death at Golgotha. For the liturgy of Good Friday which often takes place in the afternoon or evening of this day, the Church is bare and empty. The ministers enter in silence and kneel before the altar, something we do only at this point in the year, to mark as dramatically as possible the enormity of the death of Christ our God.

Way of the Cross (Stations of the Cross) - 12 noon for Children 

A devotion to the Passion of Christ which recalls a series of events at the end of Jesus' life from his condemnation to his burial. The Way of the Cross imitates the practice of visiting the places of Jesus' Passion in the Holy Land by early Christian pilgrims. The first stations outside Palestine were built in Bologna in the fifth century. This devotion was encouraged by the Franciscans, and it became common in the fifteenth century. The number of stations for prayer and meditation in the Way of the Cross has varied, but it typically includes fourteen stations. Each station may have a cross and an artistic representation of the scene. The stations may be erected inside a church or outdoors. The BOS includes the following stations in the Way of the Cross: 1) Jesus is condemned to death; 2) Jesus takes up his cross; 3) Jesus falls the first time; 4) Jesus meets his afflicted mother; 5) the cross is laid on Simon of Cyrene; 6) a woman wipes the face of Jesus; 7) Jesus falls a second time; 8) Jesus meets the women of Jerusalem; 9) Jesus falls a third time; 10) Jesus is stripped of his garments; 11) Jesus is nailed to the cross; 12) Jesus dies on the cross; 13) the body of Jesus is placed in the arms of his mother; 14) Jesus is laid in the tomb. The BOS notes that eight of the stations are based on events that are recorded in the gospels. The remaining six (stations 3, 4, 6, 7, 9, 13) are based on inferences from the gospels or pious legends.


Holy Saturday, April 15 (Vigil Service at 7 PM)

Holy Saturday, Sabbatum Sanctum in Latin, is the last day of Holy Week. The evening of Holy Saturday begins the third and final day of the Triduum. In the Western Church, the Eucharist is not celebrated on Holy Saturday and the day is a liturgically sparse time of reflection upon Christ's
death and burial in anticipation of the Great Vigil of Easter. On this day, the Church waits at the Lord's tomb. In many churches, on either the evening of Holy Saturday or early in the morning on Easter Day, the Great Vigil of Easter is celebrated. To keep vigil is to watch, and in this service we watch in prayer as Christ passes over from death to life. We begin in darkness. The church represents
the tomb, the kingdom of death, which, since Good Friday, has held sway in the world.

The Easter Vigil is the first official celebration of the Resurrection of Jesus. Historically, it is
during this service that people are baptized. In the Anglican Church, the Easter Vigil is the most important service of the liturgical year as well as the first celebration of the Eucharist during the fifty-day long celebration of Easter.

Easter Sunday, April 16 (Services at 8 & 10:15 AM)

Easter is the most important religious feast in the Christian liturgical year when we celebrate the Resurrection of Jesus. Alleluia, Christ is risen! The Lord is risen indeed! Alleluia!

Justice and Baptism

I invite you to read this article from a fellow Episcopalian:

How Ferguson and Michael Brown helped me understand my baptismal vows

An excerpt:

“Where might you expect to find the baptized?” asks Rowan Williams in Being Christian: Baptism, Bible, Eucharist, Prayer. “In the neighbourhood of chaos,” he replies. “It means you might expect to find Christian people near to those places where humanity is most at risk, where humanity is most disordered, disfigured and needy. Christians will be found in the neighbourhood of Jesus—but Jesus is found in the neighbourhood of human confusion and suffering, defencelessly alongside those in need.”

Archbishop Williams’s assertion leads me to believe that my desire to visit Ferguson can be attributed to something more than an impulsive, 24-year-old frontal lobe; it can be attributed, at least in part,to a baptismal, sacramental impulse that acknowledges the holiness of the cosmos and the holiness of black lives; the holiness of the universe and the holiness of queer and transgender teenagers surviving sex work on the streets of our cities; and the holiness of the particularity of black people who hold within their bodies trans-Atlantic trauma. Baptism is not a “get out of jail free” card. It is the ticket that gets us in trouble in the first place.

Christian communities are at their best when they go to those places of deep pain and suffering, trauma and woundedness, confusion, chaos and catastrophe, bearing witness to the complexity of human experience...

Read the whole article.  Where does your baptismal faith lead you?

Easter 2017 Message

 

It’s taken me some years to realize it, but Jesus didn’t just happen to be in Jerusalem on that first Palm Sunday. He wasn’t on vacation. He wasn’t just hanging out in town. Jesus was in Jerusalem on purpose. He arrived in Jerusalem about the time of the Passover when pilgrims were in the city. When people’s hopes and expectations for the dawn of freedom that Moses had promised in the first Passover might suddenly be realized for them in their time.

Jesus arranged his entrance into Jerusalem to send a message. He entered the city, having come in on one side of the city, the scholars tell us, at just about the same time that Pontius Pilate made his entrance on the exact opposite side of the city. Pilate, coming forth on a warhorse. Pilate, with soldiers around him. Pilate, with the insignias of Rome’s Empire. Pilate, representing the Caesars who claimed to be son of god. Pilate, who had conquered through Rome the people of Jerusalem. Pilate, representing the Empire that had taken away their freedom. Pilate, who represented the Empire that would maintain the colonial status of the Jewish people by brute force and violence.

Jesus entered the city on the other side, not on a warhorse, but on a donkey, recalling the words of Zechariah:

Behold your King comes to you
Triumphant and victorious is He
Humble and riding on a donkey

Jesus entered the city at the same time as Pilate to show them, and to show us, that God has another way. That violence is not the way. That hatred is not the way. That brute force and brutality are not the way.

Jesus came to show us there is another way. The way of unselfish, sacrificial love. That’s why he entered Jerusalem. That’s why he went to the cross. It was the power of that love poured out from the throne of God, that even after the horror of the crucifixion would raise him from death to life.

God came among us in the person of Jesus to start a movement. A movement to change the face of the earth. A movement to change us who dwell upon the earth. A movement to change the creation from the nightmare that is often made of it into the dream that God intends for it.

He didn’t just happen to be in Jerusalem on that Palm Sunday. He went to Jerusalem for a reason. To send a message. That not even the titanic powers of death can stop the love of God. On that Easter morning, he rose from the dead, and proclaimed love wins.

So you have a blessed Easter. Go forth to be people of the Resurrection. Follow in the way of Jesus. Don’t be ashamed to love. Don’t be ashamed to follow Jesus.

Have a blessed Easter. And bless the world. Amen.

The Most Rev. Michael B. Curry (Presiding Bishop and Primate of The Episcopal Church)

Sermon: April 2

(8 AM sermon)

Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the living God, we pray you to set your passion, cross, and death between your judgment and our souls, now and in the hour of our death. Give mercy and grace to the living; pardon and rest to the dead; to your holy Church peace and concord; and to us sinners everlasting life and glory; for with the Father and the Holy Spirit you live and reign, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

“The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated.”

These words were written by Mark Twain after some reports surfaced of his death, it was his cousin who was ill and not him, and I think those words are a proper way for us to think about this Lazarus Sunday.

Jesus was overcome with emotion at the tomb where his friend lay. Jesus who knew new life was coming, was still suddenly emotional, seeing the faith of those who lost their loved one who still believed even in the midst of their grief.

Jesus said to Martha, "I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live…Do you believe?" She said to him, "Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world."

Faith in the midst of the most dire circumstances, Martha has it and she shares it in the midst of her pain. Jesus lives the faith and still weeps for his friend.

So in the midst of faith and pain, Lazarus is raised. Jesus said, "Lazarus, come out!" The dead man came out, his hands and feet bound with strips of cloth, and his face wrapped in a cloth. Jesus said to them, "Unbind him, and let him go."

Sadness and fear were present in that village. So too was faith, a faith that believed in the resurrection, a faith that began with Mary & Martha and would spread to others, the belief of Jesus as the messiah, and Lazarus was freed. The Glory of God shown forth through the raising of Lazarus from the dead. Lazarus could have said it, “The reports of my death are greatly exaggerated.”

Today we celebrate that Jesus brought life out of death. Reminding us to seek out life even in the midst of our tombs…

His life was a never-ending winter of depression. His heart had been broken too many times; his last few dreams finally died in defeat and disappointment. He would leave his house only to go teach his classes or see his doctor, but his real life was lived under a blanket in his dark bedroom.

Then, one day, he was drawn to his empty yard and felt the urge to dig. He turned over spade after spade of dirt until he had cleared a small plot. He planted a few seeds and managed to find the energy to water and fertilize and weed. Soon he picked his first small basket of tomatoes and beans. He now had reason to get out of bed. He was now a gardener.

That was a few years ago. As he looks back, he wonders what he could have done if only he had gotten up out of bed and put on his shoes: He could have built a boat. He could have written a book. He could have planted a garden.

Now, each winter, as the snows rage, he spends hours at his kitchen table planning the next year's garden. On a large piece of paper he marks the rows: carrots here, potatoes there, beans in that section, tomato plants and corn on the edges. Maybe something different - kale or spinach? Would this be the year he would attempt a watermelon vine? He eagerly looks forward to the new the seed catalog each year; he devours gardening books and is constantly checking out horticultural websites looking for new ways to make next season's garden greener and more productive.

While the world around him is entombed in winter, he lives in the never-disappointing hope of spring, looking forward to digging in his garden and gathering the bounty of the harvest. [Suggested by "The Garden" by Richard Jones, Spirituality & Heath, March/April 2011.]

All of us have experienced some extended spiritual winter in our lives when we have felt trapped by the feeling that nothing matters much, when we are entombed by disappointment, hurt and grief - or we are so absorbed by work or play or others' expectations that distract us from being the kind of spouse, parent, child or friend we want and are called to be.

Jesus who calls Lazarus from his tomb calls us out of the tombs we dig for ourselves in order to walk in the light of hope and possibility. He calls us to live life to the fullest, to bring the love of God into our cold, wintry world. Jesus calls not only to Lazarus but to all of us: Come out! Go free! Unbind yourselves from the wrappings of death!

Live life to the fullest - the life given to you by a loving God. May we hear that same call to life even in our darkest and coldest winters, enabling us to drop the bindings of disappointment and anger, the tombs of death and embrace the never failing hope of the gardener & the good earth, and the abundant life of God.

Seize the day for the reports of our deaths are greatly exaggerated! Amen.

March 26 Story

(Story used at 10:15 AM)

Years ago, a boy was collecting berries in the woods near his Southern home. He was concentrating on filling his bucket - and mouth - with the delicious fruit and not paying attention to how deep he was going into the forest. The boy didn't notice the dark clouds forming on the horizon. Then he heard crashes of thunder. Suddenly he realized that he was lost. Darkness enveloped the woods. The terrified youngster started to run - with no sense of where he was going.

Then he remembered what his parents had taught him: When you're lost, stop and be still, look around, and listen. So the boy stopped running and stood still. And he observed the lightning strikes illuminating the forest landscape. With each lightning flash he was able to see a bit farther ahead and walk a little closer to his destination until he found his way home, guided by the storm that had, at first, frightened him. [Howard Thurman.]

Seeing and light are key images of today's Gospel for this Sunday in mid-Lent. Jesus cures a man born blind - but the greater miracle is opening the eyes of those around him to "see" the presence of God in their midst. Terrified of the storm, the little boy remembers his parents' wise advice: Stop and look. See the light and make your way towards it.

The Christ of Lent is that light that illuminates those times and places in which we can realize the love of God in our midst. Like the Jewish leaders and the temple officials, we sometimes become so obsessed trying to find God where God is not that we fail to see God where God actually is. We desperately want to know where God is when tragedy befalls us; we live our lives taking comfort in the erroneous notion that God is found only at certain times, in the rituals and pious practices our religion specifies.

The reality is that God is most profoundly present in the simple, ordinary doings of life, in the kindness and love of others, in life itself and the gifts of the earth to sustain that life. May God grant us the vision that the blind man receives in today's Gospel: to see the love of God present in all things. (Jay Cormier)

Sermon: March 26

(8 AM Sermon)

O heavenly Father, who hast filled the world with beauty: Open our eyes to behold thy gracious hand in all thy works; that, rejoicing in thy whole creation, we may learn to serve thee with gladness; for the sake of him through whom all things were made, thy Son Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Today is the first day of the rest of your life. What we choose to do today, matters. When things happen, as they often do, we ask the question why, why did this happen? Especially in difficult or tragic moments those questions come to mind. They are natural questions.

It is a question that the writer JRR Tolkien explored in his writings in the Lord of the Rings. When Frodo, the Hobbit complains: “I wish the ring had never come to me. I wish none of this had happened.” It is the wise Gandalf who responds to him, “So do all who live to see such times, but that is not for them to decide. All we have to decide is what to do with the time that is given us.”

It is what we do in response, in the time that is given to each of us, that matters most, even as we ponder the question of why things happen.

The disciples were thinking about the why question when they encountered a man blind from birth.

His disciples asked him, "Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?" Jesus answered, "Neither this man nor his parents sinned; he was born blind so that God's works might be revealed in him. We must work the works of him who sent me while it is day; night is coming when no one can work…"

Too often, when something happens, we point the finger. It was that person’s sin that caused the calamity to come upon them. You hear it especially after a terrible tragedy when someone will say it is God’s way of punishing them/us for sin.

But in the response from Jesus to his disciples, it reminds us that this is not how God works. God did not make the man blind because of sin, but through what has happened, God’s works may be revealed in him.

No one is defective, or throw a way, or a mistake. God has made each of us, and through the God given gifts we have, God’s works may be revealed through us. Think of Helen Keller or Beethoven, Stevie Wonder or Stephen Hawking.

And we could name so many others who have been gifted which opens our eyes to see that God works through us all.

The late neurologist and author Oliver Sacks wrote about a man born blind whose sight was restored. This miracle occurred neither through prayer, nor through a concoction of dirt and divine saliva, but through a surgical correction of the patient's eyes.

The blind man agreed eagerly to the surgery, experimental and delicate though it was. The operation went well, although the man's eyes had to be bandaged for a time to let them heal, but at last the day came when the bandages could be removed. The surgical team, the man's family, and others assembled as the nurses carefully unwound the dressings from the patient's face. All were hushed, expectant.

For the first time in his life, the man opened his eyes and . . . What were they expecting? What would you expect?

Jubilation! Joy! "Ah, color! Light! My wife's sweet face, just as I'd always imagined it!"

But instead, the man turned his head from side to side to side. His expression was baffled and frightened.

"What's wrong?" his doctor asked at last, and at the sound of his voice, the man turned in his direction.

"Oh, my God!" he said, his voice trembling. "I thought I was all alone." And the man began to weep.

The man had been blind since birth. His brain knew only sound and touch, smell and taste; it had never received visual stimulation. It had never developed the neural pathways needed for processing visual images and had never created categories by which he might understand the data now crashing against his retinas on waves of light. Technically, his eyes worked - but he could not make sense of what he saw.

The heartbreaking thing was, he never could learn to make sense of it. His brain could not adjust to process vision, so the visible world never became comprehensible, let along beautiful, to this poor man. It was always a bright, confused madness hovering in front of him.

He became profoundly depressed and begged the doctors to re-blind him. When they would not, he could find relief only in blindfolding himself and living in darkness, artificially returning to the one world in which he could function. [From Beginner's Grace by Kate Braestrup.]

As Jesus explains in the wake of his restoring sight to the blind man in today's Gospel, the light that is Christ both illuminates - and blinds. It reveals the love of God in our very midst - but it can also shine harshly on those elements of our lives that we would prefer to keep in the shadows: our fears, our prejudices, our avarice.

In the light of Christ, our un-Christ-like or sinful behaviors and attitudes are seen for what they are; our failings to see Christ in the faces of others, especially the poor and marginalized. What we see in the light of Christ can be difficult to comprehend: suddenly we see beyond labels and stereotypes, self-interest and old scores, and recognize the love of God we have failed to see - or have refused to see in others.

This Lent may we dare to embrace the light of God in Christ, a vision of faith that illuminates the darkness of injustice and hatred and fear with the light of justice and hope and compassion.

There will come a time when we cannot do the works that God asks of us, so while it is day, we need to use our gifts, Jesus says; or else we may fall into the trap of not seeing God at work in others and all around us. Amen.