Step Out of the Shadow

This sermon was preached on the transferred Feast Day of Saint Andrew, Apostle of Jesus. The readings which inspired the sermon were the following:
Romans 10:8b-18
Matthew 4:18-22
Psalm 19 or 19:1-6
Here in Decatur there are a couple of pertinent questions that people ask someone whom they’ve never met. “Where are you from?” “What church do you go to?” and “Who are you kin to?” It took me some time when I moved here to get accustomed to such questions. While all three of these inquiries are helpful, today I want to zoom in on the third.

Understanding family connections is crucial. As a parishioner once told me, “Make sure you who someone is related to in the church before you say anything about anyone else.” While I would take it further to challenge myself and us all to speak with kindness about everyone, I get that parishioner’s sentiment. Family connection is crucial, especially here in the South. This lesson emerged in my own childhood going to camp.

When I first went to Camp Winnataska I loved it. I wanted to go back any chance I had. However, I wasn’t the only one in my family who had a great love for camp. My great grandmother was one of the first campers there. My grandmother and mother had gone there. And, my sister, who is eight years older than me, was an older camper, then a leader, and a staff member there. So, even though I had my own relationship with camp, I was almost always introduced as Elin’s younger brother.

Over the years though, that introduction changed. When my sister stopped being on staff and served as a director (only one week of the summer) the connection shifted. My elder sibling was introduced as Seth’s older sister. While this may not seem like much, that shift made a huge impact on me. I had stepped out of the shadow of my sister and had my own identity. Similarly I believe we must take the saint whom we celebrate today out of the shadow of his brother to celebrate him for who he truly was.

Today we remember Saint Andrew, an Apostle of Jesus. Often we recall first and foremost that Andrew was Simon Peter’s brother. However, as soon as we do this, we overlook almost every aspect of Andrew’s life and ministry. In doing this we miss the example that today’s saint gives us for living a life dedicated to living out of Christ’s grace and love.

Andrew, according to Saint John’s telling of the story—and we like Saint John here—was a disciple of John the Baptist. One day the Baptizer pointed out Jesus to Andrew and another disciple, saying “Behold the Lamb of God” (John 1:29). Instead of hanging back, and perhaps waiting on his brother, Andrew began following Jesus around, spending time with Him, and even believing Him to be the Messiah. Andrew so quickly believed that he went to his brother Simon to share this good news with him. Without Andrew, we would have no Simon Peter.

Saint Andrew was the first disciple, an evangelist to the disciples, and one who stayed right outside of the spotlight. However, if we simply forget his ministry, then we may forget our own calling to bring others to Christ. When many were hungry and had nothing to eat, Andrew found a little boy with fish and loaves. When in Matthew’s Gospel account Jesus called Andrew he immediately responded by leaving his fishing nets to follow Our Lord. When in his latter ministry he faced persecution and eventually martyrdom Andrew did not shy away from living into his calling.

We sometimes make it out to say that Andrew lived in the shadow of Simon Peter. We might sometimes introduce Andrew as Peter’s brother. However Andrew’s pioneering belief in Jesus, his ability to bring others to Christ, and his lasting faith even in persecution makes him stand alone. Saint Peter? Yes, that’s Saint Andrew’s brother!

Pray Twice

Our Church has been gifted mightily by its musicians and our Hymnal is a treasure trove of these gifts.

This sermon was preached on the Feast Day of William Byrd, John Merbecke, and Thomas Tallis. The readings which inspired the sermon were the following:

Revelation 15:1–4

John 15:1–8

Psalm 47

When I say “meeting” what words come to your mind? Boring. Excruciating. Awful. Waste of time. Too long. These are some of the words that typically pop into my head when I think of most meetings. And, I think this is often the case. I know I have been in meetings that make it feel like time itself is standing still. However, there’s one meeting I have always enjoyed since getting here to St. John’s: our music planning meetings!

Now, when Evan Garner was still here I loved these meetings because watching Foster Bailey and Evan negotiate hymn selections was like watching two seasoned boxers go toe-to-toe for twelve rounds. I often felt like the underqualified referee who tried desperately to keep the fighters from taking any low blows, punching after the bell, or biting anyone’s ear off. The conversations now are a little less lively, but nonetheless they are times when I genuinely look forward to attending a meeting. Why is this? I’ll give you three reasons.

First, and please don’t tell him this, but I have learned so much about church music from our organist. I say don’t tell him because he’s insufferable already. Still, he has always been brutally honest with me about things I can do better, and he’s also shared so much about what makes for good church music—most notably, that people can actually sing the hymns we choose! So, during these meetings I joyfully look forward to figuring out what pieces both apply to the church season or day and get people singing.

Second, I look forward to attending our church music planning meetings because it is amazing to watch how we can weave together music, readings, prayers, and eventually sermons to fit a day or a season perfectly. Sometimes parishioners remark about how great everything fell into place on a given day. Well, I am sad to break it to you but there is a lot of prayerful planning, probably a couple of arguments, and of course God’s Spirit that leads to making those selections. In other words, our liturgy doesn’t magically fall into place. Still sometimes even I am taken aback at how perfectly our songs reflect everything else in the liturgy.

Finally, I happily anticipate music planning meetings because in them I am always reminded that to sing is to pray twice, as St. Augustine is supposed to have said. Yes, sometimes I needed to pray not twice but continually when Evan and Foster were arguing over hymns. And yet, so often during a service I get most lost in prayer when I am singing. During other parts of the service I might be so focused on what I need to be doing (“Am I holding my hands right?” “Did I annunciate that prayer well?” “Was I smiling or frowning during the Eucharistic Prayer?”). However, when we sing I receive the great gift like the rest of us to pray doubly. And, we not only have our own church musicians to thank for that, but also those who came in ages past, like the saints whom we celebrate today.

John Merbecke, Thomas Tallis, and William Byrd were church musicians in the 15th and 16th Centuries. Merbecke composed a musical setting to accompany the 1549 Prayer Book. Tallis survived four monarch shifts back and forth from Catholic to Protestant, and all the while he provided for the changing needs of the Church of England. Perhaps that is why he is known as the father of English Church music since the Reformation. Byrd composed mass settings, motets, graduals, psalm settings, anthems, and hymns for the great feast days of the Church. Tallis and Byrd even combined for some years and held the Crown Patent for the printing of sheet music. These musicians and so many others have given us a treasure trove of songs to sing. And, they have been ones who help our music and our liturgy to be a sacrifice of praise, worship, and thanksgiving.

As we celebrate the feast of Thanksgiving tonight and tomorrow, may we with joyful hearts be grateful for Church musicians throughout the ages. They may at times be insufferable, pigheaded, irreverent prima donnas. However, they help us to pray twice as we sing songs that bring us into not only describing who God is, but also participating in the wonder, love, and praise of Our Lord. And for that, thanks be to God. Amen.  

Going Home

This sermon was preached at the Burial of the Dead for Florence Herbet Turpin. The readings which inspired the sermon were the following:
Isaiah 25:6-9
Psalm 23
Revelation 7:9-17
John 14:1-6

It is never good to play favorites. This is sound advice when dealing with children, and I think it’s also true when working in a church. A priest ought not to have preferred parishioners; however, I must confess my friends, for if this is the mark, then I have surely missed it. You see, I always looked forward to visiting Florence Turpin with a secret joy rivaled by few others, and I guess now that is not such a secret. Whew, it feels better to get that off my chest.

Whenever I visited with Flo she wanted me to come over to give her a big hug. The hug was even bigger if I had brought her a beloved chocolate milkshake. These visits were so easy and fun because Dadaw, as she was known by her family, was the consummate host. Even if she was confined to a small room in a nursing facility, her over 30 years providing hospitality in the restaurant industry shined through. Every time it was like she was welcoming me to a newly renovated eatery. Of course, not every one of those visits was chipper.

Over the last few years Florence faced continuing health challenges with surgeries, multiple strokes, and memory loss. On top of these issues, Flo struggled with guilt, was often irritable, and always stubborn. Through it all though, she managed to stay herself. She was always authentically, genuinely, 100% Flo. And, quite often that meant that comedy was the way that she kept going.

Flo was funny. Like when she reflected on where she had learned how to feel guilty about things for far too long. She was long ago a Catholic girl with coke bottle thick glasses growing up on the Mississippi Delta, not exactly the best place to be Catholic or a girl or four-eyed. It was a world that valued so many things that she was not. So, Florence found a way to rise above by joking. She used to compare herself to Sammy Davis Jr. who famously said he had more strikes against him than ought to be allowed as he was "short, maimed, ugly,black, Jewish, gaudy, and uneducated." Florence may not have had as many strikes, but she nonetheless always kept fighting until she got her way.

Even when she was irritable, she found ways to make herself and others crack up. Like the times when she was upset with her neighbors at the Terrace. She would ask, “Why are there so many damn Baptists out here? Where are the Good Episcopalians? These people don’t know how to play Mexican Dominoes the right way... like they do at Riverside.”

And, her habit of stubbornly holding onto her way even when her children, and grandchildren, and other family and friends would try to convince her of another way was both challenging and impressive. One doesn’t run as many restaurants as she did without having the stubbornness of a mule. While she was not trying to be funny, there is something amusing to me about how Flo so willfully held to the belief that the last place she lived was always so much better than the place where she was currently living.

Natchez and the Mississippi Delta was her home for so long. And, the friendships she had there were lifelong bonds. The joy that Howard and her shared with others, especially as they went out to dinner and danced most Fridays nights revealed Flo’s fun-loving nature. But, after Howard’s death when she had to move to Decatur it seemed like she was always looking backwards.

She first lived at Riverside Senior Living, but there she missed Mississippi. Then she had to have some more serious care after some complications, so she moved to the Terrace… where she missed the friends, the food, and the Mexican Dominoes of Riverside. As her memory worsened she had to move to Summerford in Falkville, and there she missed the independence she had at the Terrace. What strikes me is that it’s hard to live life in reverse, always looking backwards. But, Florence missed her home, and towards the end I don’t think it was just her Mississippi home that she longed for.

Over the last few weeks Flo kept saying that she was seeing a man in a suit. No one else ever saw that man in a suit. Finally Dodie asked her who it was. Flo said it was her late husband Howard. Was she just hallucinating? I don’t think so.

I can’t be sure exactly what was happening. It’s hard to understand the Great Mystery that is God’s nature. But, maybe Flo kept seeing Howard because he was waiting for her to come home. Not to a home where she would look back and think it was better back then, but to a place where everything is perfect, like the feast on God’s Mountain in our reading from Isaiah, like in our Psalm walking along protected by the Good Shepherd, like in John’s Revelation when there’s no more hunger or thirst just fulfillment, like in John’s Gospel account when Jesus leads us all to our eternal home, like dancing and dinner down in Natchez on Friday night. That’s the home where Howard was taking Florence.

He was coming back to make sure Flo knew the way to the place where Christ leads us all. And, Flo kept looking past people around her these last few days, as though she was looking to that forever home where we will all one day reside in God’s infinite love. Christ shows us the way, the truth, and the life in how he lived, in how he died, and in how he rose again.

In her guilt and irritability and stubbornness I imagine that Flo, like the rest of us with our own faults, might have struggled with making that walk back home. Howard must have finally convinced her though that if she held out much longer they would have missed their dancing and dinner with all their friends last Friday night in their new eternal home. And, so Flo went home.

As we give Dadaw, Flo, Herb, Florence over to God who has always had her and always will have her, we look ahead to that day when we will all feast together on God’s Holy Mountain. When we will walk more closely with our Good Shepherd. When we will no longer hunger or thirst. When we will be together in God’s eternal home. When we know that we are all God’s favorite. And, there we can again dance and laugh and feast with Flo and all the others who go before us. Welcome home Flo. I know you will like this one the best!

Keep Going

Would Jesus say the same thing about our churches that He said about the Temple in today's Gospel lesson?

This sermon was preached on November 18, 2018 during the Sunday Holy Eucharist services for the 26th Sunday after Pentecost. The readings that inspired the sermon were the following:

1 Samuel 1:4-20
1 Samuel 2:1-10
Hebrews 10:11-14 (15-18) 19-25
Mark 13:1-8

Dr. Gerald Smith, a Religion Professor at Sewanee, more affectionately known just by his last name—Smith, once took his Intro to Religion students out of their normal classroom and onto the Quad. He did this to make a point about how we see the priorities of a community reflected in its buildings. Using the architecture on central campus—some academic structures, the administrative offices, and All Saints’ Chapel—Smith asked the class what they saw. Even though the students had walked by that area many times this exercise of paying attention served as eye-opening.

A Geology major informed the class that Tennessee sandstone made up the façade of the chapel. An upperclassman pointed out how so many disciplines were represented in the buildings around the Quad. Then, a church-nerd pointed out the Gothic nature of All Saints’. Finally, Smith jumped in to make clear his point. “Which building is the tallest?” the professor asked. “The Chapel,” the class replied. “So, what do you think that means? What does that say about the university? What does it say about this community’s priorities?” Those questions around the physical world and values have stuck with me.

Dr. Smith asserted throughout that particular class that our tallest buildings indicate to us what we hold most dearly. In that case, an Episcopal identity at an Episcopal University. But, if we look in our city, what does our architecture confess about us? Well, what buildings are tallest? Banks, offices, and churches. What about across the country? What buildings are tallest? The One World Trade Center is the tallest at 1,776 feet. That is the skyscraper rebuilt on the site of the Trade Center buildings, which were bombed on September 11, 2001 in New York City. Among the other tallest structures are The Willis Tower (formerly the Sears Tower) in Chicago and 432 Park Avenue in New York City.[1]

What do these buildings tell us about what we give worth to in our society? These buildings reflect that we value trade, our economy, wealth, and having a place to live. By the way, Riverside Church also in NYC—associated with the American Baptists and the United Church of Christ—is the tallest church in the U.S.A. and it is a full 1,384 feet shorter than the One World Trade Center, 10 miles down the Hudson River.[2] So what does this say? What do these buildings tell us about what we value? Perhaps these questions do not really help to inform us.

Building a really tall church seems impractical. And, in over-crowded cities like New York building up makes more sense than building out. Still, I cannot help but wonder what Jesus would think if we marveled to him about our tall buildings or even our beautiful church. If we caught him on a day like the one in today’s Gospel lesson we might find ourselves taken aback.

“Look, Teacher, what large stones and what a large church!” we might even say, “Jesus, did you notice how pretty our new facilities are?” He could very well reply, “Do you see these great buildings? Not one stone will be left here upon another; all will be thrown down.” If bold enough, we might reply, “What gives Jesus? Why are you so upset? Isn’t it important to have tall and beautiful structures that point to what we hold dear?” I’m not positive how Jesus would reply to this, but He might very well reply with the words he spoke long ago, “Beware that no one leads you astray.” Astray? Astray of what? Where are we going off God’s path?

Our Great Teacher warned us to be wary, but why? His disciples wanted to know when the Temple would be toppled because they thought this would be a sign of the End of Days, Armageddon, the Eschaton. According to Jesus, there was a lot that needed to happen before the end. He cautioned that some would falsely come in His name. He said not to be alarmed by wars and rumors of wars. He even said to keep going through national uprisings and earthquakes and famines. Whoa! Jesus, do you even hear what you are saying? But, there is something to all of this. There is something to Jesus’ words because they are not just about being wary, and they aren’t about being worried, and they certainly aren’t about being fearful of what is to come—even if we might be all of these things.

No, Jesus’ words in today’s Gospel lesson are about something else. His words call us to wonder what it is that we are truly looking out for. It is not about all those terrible things—wars, rebellions, earthquakes, and famines—for they have been happening since Jesus was walking the earth. It’s not simply about those signs. And, in a society with lots of tall banks, apartments, and even churches that have been built up and demolished over the years, it’s not just about stones falling down. No, Jesus’ words cut through the noise of nations rising and falling, of natural disasters, and of everything else in our busy lives. Jesus cuts right to the heart of what is important.

Even when everything around us is crumbling, even when we feel like the sky is falling, even on our darkest days, Jesus tells us to keep going, for these are just the birthpangs. What will come will be beyond anything of our wildest imagination. That which will be born from these events will be the reign of Christ, the Kingdom of God, the realm of the Spirit! You see the best is yet to come!

Now, I won’t ever fully know the pains of the birthing process—other than perhaps a almost broken hand from my spouse’s kung fu like grip during labor. However, the difficulty of labor, even in our day and age, seems so tremendous that it is incredible that any of us are here in the first place. Still, I know that whenever I ask people about their moments closest to Christ throughout their whole lives what they almost universally point to is the birth of a child. New life marvels all of us. And, it seemingly far outweighs even the challenges of labor. The sprouting up of God’s way in this world will, according to Christ, be as painful as delivering a child. And yet, this is what we are called to be a part of.

We are called to bear God’s reign into this world. While the building up of the physical world is important, I mean look at how beautiful our new additions are, there is more than just what we see. Christ calls us to be dwelling places ourselves for God’s Spirit. Even when everything around us is crumbling, even when we feel like the sky is falling, even on our darkest days…when this material world crashes down, we are always called to bear God’s Kingdom, which never crumbles or falls or fades. We are called to keep going. Jesus says to us, “Don’t worry about how tall the building is. Instead build up dwelling places in your souls where my Spirit can dwell. For even our hardest hours are just the beginning of the birthpangs, which lead to God’s Kingdom being born in us and in this world.” Keep going, keep the faith, for these are just the birthpangs of Christ’s reign in this world, and the best is yet to come.

[1] “List of Tallest Buildings in the United States.” Wikipedia. Accessed 11/15/18. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_tallest_buildings_in_the_United_States.

[2] “List of Tallest Church Buildings in the World.” Wikipedia. Accessed 11/15/18. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_tallest_church_buildings.