SERMON
at
Christ Church, Watertown, Connecticut
Epiphany V
February 7, 2010
by
The Rev. Stanley C. Kemmerer, AHC

“We tried that once, and it didn’t work.”
“How can I, when…”(fill in the impediment)
“I’m really not that good at” (fill in the task someone is being asked to perform)

Jesus had probably had better days than the one Luke records in this morning’s Gospel.

He’s standing by the Lake of Gennesaret. A crowd is pressing around him. He’s preaching and catches sight of two boats close to the bank, their occupants on the shore, washing their nets. “I know how to get a little distance from this crowd,” he thinks. “I’ll have one of these guys put out a little from shore, giving me some breathing room.”

He finishes preaching and now he gets another idea. A different idea: “Put out into deep water,” he says to Simon, whose boat it was, “and pay out your nets for a catch.” Oh, boy! Can’t you just see it? As Simon explains, “Master, we worked hard all night long and caught nothing.” They’re tired. They’ve been up all night. They’re disappointed. When Jesus got (uninvited, we have to believe) into their boat they were probably thinking of getting some rest. They’ve done him a favor. Now this!” Talk about “no good deed goes unpunished!”

But, more gracious than one of us probably would have been, Simon says, “but if you say so, I will pay out the nets.” Maybe that will convince the preacher. The “We tried that once, and it didn’t work” didn’t!

They get a surprise: “when they had done this they netted such a huge number of fish that their nets began to tear, so they signaled to their companions in the other boat to come and help them; when these came, they filled the two boats to the sinking point.”

Are they embarrassed or what? When Simon Peter saw this he fell at the knees of Jesus saying, “Leave me, Lord; I am a sinful man.” (“I don’t deserve this! I doubted you!”)

Same thing with Isaiah, who saw the Lord Yahweh seated on a high throne; his train filled the sanctuary; above him stood the seraphs, each one with six wings: two to cover its face, two to cover its feet and two for flying.

The foundations of the threshold shook with the voice of the one who cried out, and the Temple was filled with smoke. I said:
“What a wretched state I am in! I am lost,
for I am a man of unclean lips
and I live among a people of unclean lips
and my eyes have looked at the King, Yahweh Sabaoth.”

We all have our excuses, don’t we? Our fears, our insecurities, our feelings of inadequacy or unworthiness. Our laziness. Our cynicism.

I know how many times in my sales career I’ve had to convince myself to call again on companies who have refused to see me, who have told me they never use what I sell or they do use it and are very satisfied with one of my company’s competitors. I also have paid a lot of bills and taken a lot of vacations on the commissions from some of those same companies because, when I tried later, the decisionmaker had changed. Or they’d had a bad experience with the competitor. Or they remembered something I’d said and it had changed their minds.

At some point in their job searches most of my clients tell me there’s “nothing ‘out there.’” No jobs. The economy is bad. They’re too old. They don’t have a college degree. They’re too young. The technology has changed from what they know how to use. There are no jobs in their field in the area where they live and they can’t/won’t move. I also know what happens when they step aside from using the methods jobseekers have always used to find jobs and try the counterintuitive ones we teach them, because I’ve had the perverse satisfaction that comes from congratulating them on the ideal situations they report they’ve teased out from the “out there” where they had claimed nothing was.

If people aren’t interested in the Church any more why does our Centering Prayer group draw the numbers it does, regularly. Why is Compline at St. Mark’s Cathedral, Seattle or at Christ Church, New Haven standing room only in Seattle and in the hundreds already in New Haven. Why, when I visit a hilltop in Taize in France, does my 20 year old host tell me of the thousands who stay in tents and are fed in soup lines for weeks on end in the summer so they can pray there? And, even in April, when I visit and attend candlelight vespers which goes on for hours in a hall filled to overflowing, is no one looking at their watches? And these are young people. And their focus is not judgment and “Jesus saves.” It’s the environment. It’s peacemaking. It’s feeding the hungry.

When we hear “I’m not good at” (fill in the blank of whatever task we are approached to consider performing/responsibility we are asked to consider taking on, do we consider how much farther ahead our experience of the Kingdom here on earth might be were our response to continue, “but I’ll do what I can with this much.” “Can I get help with/be directed to learning more about this part of it I don’t know yet?” Or “I’m better at….and I’ll be happy to take that on.”

This morning’s lessons show us that help is there. It took care of Isaiah’s unclean lips. Then one of the seraphs flew to me, holding in his hand a live coal which he had taken from the altar with a pair of tongs. With this he touched my mouth and said:
“See now, this has touched your lips, (I didn’t say the “help” never involves
some discomfort or stretching….)
your sin is taken away,
your iniquity is purged.”
That done
Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying:
“Whom shall I send? Who will be our messenger?”
I answered, “Here I am, send me.”

In the Epistle, St. Paul reminds the Corinthians of the gospel he preached to them is only what I had been taught myself and that, if worthiness were the criteria he’d not have met it. I am the least of the apostles; in fact, since I persecuted the Church of God, I hardly deserve the name apostle, but by God’s grace that is what I am and that grace has not been fruitless.

Now. True Confession time: I told you last week I was dreading Clergy Conference. I waved some of the topics under your noses so you could see why.
Like the disciples, I got some surprises.

SERMON
at
Christ Church, Watertown, Connecticut
The Feast of the Epiphany (Observed)
January 10, 2010
by
The Rev. Stanley C. Kemmerer, AHC

What does it take for someone to leave home and family on a months long journey to they know not where, drawn by a star with a pull much as that exerted upon the seas as they ebb and flow? The wise men had heard a “king of the Jews” had been born, yes, but they were not Jews. This was not their king. What made it so necessary for them to do this king homage? What put it into them to experience the star’s pull and then to put themselves at such inconvenience as to let it draw them, first, to Jerusalem, then, following its Temple’s chief priests and scribes, on to Bethlehem? What brought them to their knees before a baby, obviously humbly born???

God only knows. Literally. We don’t. Not for sure. And this is true of all “calls.” They come unbidden. Often they come unwelcome. Similarly, they often come unexpectedly. But the world can be changed by them. Our lives can be changed by them.

The Epiphany story is also referred to as “the manifestation to the Gentiles,” the “other” than the Jews. It is seen to be the evidence that the “good news” was not to be only for the Jewish people but for all people. Including non-Jews, like you and me.

I pondered these questions as I sat in a Congregational meetinghouse last Sunday. I’d not followed a star; unless you count as a star the “light” I’d found in a book that led me to that place, through Sunday’s snowstorm. My journey was measured in hours, not the months that measured the wise men’s journey. The pull of my star was probably not as strong as the pull of theirs but a pull it was. I had to see for myself, if I could, what this place I’d read about was like.

As the preacher explored the themes of the Gospel I’ve just read, the thought came into my mind, “I’m repeating…that…journey!” in another form: A modern pilgrim, responding to little nudges, to see where they lead.

I’d started reading this book as part of the study requirement of a rule of life I follow, partly because I’d heard it talked about mainline Protestant churches that were growing, not declining or closing. I was to find out as I got into it that the words “any more” should be added, because most of those described were on their way to closing before they took new tacks.

Describing the church I was visiting, the author writes, “When Lillian (the previous senior minister) arrived in 1996, the church was divided by conflict and threatened with closure. Only a handful of families remained. The choir was bigger than the congregation. To survive---just to pay the heating bills---the church had been selling off bits of its property for more than twenty years. Not only were these tangible measures of success low, but Redeemer had nearly run out of hope.” Such descriptions are typical of the churches she profiles.

As I read further in the book, I found myself saying again and again, “That’s us! That’s Christ Church. We’re like that!” I read things like:

SERMON
at
Christ Church, Watertown, Connecticut
Christmas I
December 27, 2009
by
The Rev. Stanley C. Kemmerer, AHC

Do your kids ever have you tearing your hair? Do you wonder if they’ll ever “turn out all right?” Do you ever wonder how you measure up as a parent?

Do your parents not understand you? Do you wonder if they’ll ever “get it”? Do you wonder if you’ll ever be able to please them?

Then this Sunday’s for you! Some call it Holy Family Sunday because of the subject matter. Whatever you want to call it, the lessons don’t fit neatly the “family values” theme:

The hero of the Lesson from the Hebrew Scriptures, Samuel, is, arguably, not in what your neighborhood social worker would regard as an ideal situation. He’s in the Temple, yes, and with a holy man, yes. But the holy man is old and, judging by how his kids, Hophni and Phineas turned out, anything but a great success as a parent himself.

These kids are so bad that Yahweh God feels He has to break His promise to their tribe (They were Levites.) that they would be Israel’s priesthood, and install Samuel instead. Talk about corruption: It was customary for worshippers to bring meat sacrifices to the Temple. Eli’s sons made it a practice to help themselves to these sacrifices, intended for Yahweh God alone. As if that weren’t enough, they abused their positions to sleep with the women serving in the Temple, both practices being major abominations.

Some would criticize Hannah and Elkanah, Samuel’s parents. They visit him once a year, when they’re in Jerusalem for the annual pilgrimage anyway, and they bring him a robe. “Thanks, Folks!”

Then there’s the situation described in the Gospel: Mary and Joseph leave Jersualem to go back home. It’s a full day later when they miss the kid. They assumed he was somewhere in the caravan, with the relatives, but it’s not as if they stayed close! So they panic, head back to Jerusalem, find him, and they who, in our society, would be before DCF, accused with child abandonment and neglect, chew him out for not telling them! Does he apologize? No-o-o! He smarts off: “You shoulda known I’d be in my Father’s house…”

On the other hand we can note:

SERMON
at
Christ Church, Watertown, Connecticut
Advent III
December 13, 2009
by
The Rev. Stanley C. Kemmerer, AHC

Every time Advent rolls around, and this Gospel is appointed, and it falls to me to read it, I think of Charlie Scott, my college chaplain, my friend, and a dear brother priest. One of his friends nicknamed him “Colussus.” He certainly was that to me: A giant in the formation of my ministry as well as a physically imposing man.

Charlie was Presbyterian minister who, my first year in college, jumped the fence and became an Episcopal priest. He loved the liturgy with the passion of Canterbury, Scripture with the passion of Geneva. He drilled into us that it was not enough just to read a passage of Scripture; we owed a duty to ourselves, our congregations, and our Lord, sufficiently to understand it that our oral interpretation, how we read it, would be consistent with what it meant.

So I think of him when I speak in John the Baptist’s voice the opening words of this morning’s Gospel and place in my mind’s eye this giant of the Faith. To experience John the Baptist was not to experience comfort. He didn’t speak; he bellowed. He was rough, unkempt. His hair would have known no comb, his person no deodorant. His food was locusts and honey.

And his message, oh his message---like a stun gun. No “Peace on Earth, Good will towards men” in this. Rather, Dies irae, the wrath of God. And no escaping: who warned you to fly from the retribution that is coming? But if you are repentant, produce the appropriate fruits, and do not think of telling yourselves, “We have Abraham for our father…” =We’re the Chosen.

This is a pretty cold shower for the crowds who had come out to hear him, attracted by his reputation as a charismatic preacher. He’s preaching to the choir, isn’t he? Because they’d come out, after all, to be baptized, to be washed of their sins in the Jordan River. Why is he treating them like this?

He’s treating them like this because he believes they don’t fully understand the extent of the sin they’ve committed and are continuing to commit. As his directions for what they must do, later in the passage, demonstrate, they need to address systemic sin as well. And they need to address it in the context of their present lives. He addressed three specific audiences:

SERMON
at
Christ Church, Watertown, Connecticut
Advent II
December 6, 2009
by
The Rev. Stanley C. Kemmerer, AHC

This morning’s appointed Scriptures constitute a tale of three messengers:

The post-exilic prophet Malachi, addressing a Jewish people asking of Yahweh their God, “So, what have you done for us lately?”

The Apostle Paul, in a rare departure from his crabby, hit ‘em where they aren’t critiques of the behaviors of the early Christian communities, actually giving thanks for and praising the church gathered at Philippi.

And the Evangelist Luke recording the prophetic ministry of St. John the Baptist, almost universally now thought to be the fulfillment of Malachi’s prophecy, “my messenger to prepare a way for me.”

Our recessional will celebrate him in verse and song:

Hark! A thrilling voice is sounding.
“Christ is nigh,” it seems to say;
“Cast away the works of darkness,
O ye children of the day.”

As is often the case with the lectionary, the portion of Scripture appointed to be read is either preceded or followed by some “good stuff” not included in the reading itself but which is helpful to our understanding of it. The Book of Malachi is one of the Bible’s “little books.” It is believed to have been written after the dedication of the Second Temple in Jerusalem in 516 BCE, so a little over 500 years before Jesus was born and after the Jews’ deliverance from their exile in Babylon.

So, OK: Yahweh has delivered the Jewish people from their oppressors, yet they’re whining. They’re free, yes, but it didn’t quite follow their script for how it was to roll out…Says Malachi in the verse preceding our appointed lesson:

You weary Yahweh with your talk. You ask, “How do we weary him?”

“Let me tell you,” says Malachi.

When you say, “Any evildoer is good as far as Yahweh is concerned;
Indeed he likes them best”; or when you say, “Where is the God of
justice now?”

It appears it’s not enough for them they’re OK; they want to see their oppressors suffer. In short, they want to substitute their justice for God’s! They apparently have not yet tumbled to the fact God often surprises His people by acting in ways they don’t expect. (As He is about to again---with a Messiah in the form of a helpless baby rather than on a white charger!) It’s an appropriate lection for this “in between” season of Advent, full of reversals: lowly things and people exalted, the mighty brought low.

“You want justice?” Malachi asks. “You’ll get justice all right!” He continues, speaking as Yahweh God,

Look, I am going to send my messenger to prepare a way before
me. And the Lord you are seeking will suddenly enter his Temple;
and the angel of the covenant whom you are longing for, yes, he
is coming, says Yahweh Sabaoth.

But are you ready for this…

Who will be able to resist the day of his coming? Who will remain
standing when he appears? For he is like the refiner’s fire and
the fuller’s alkali…he will purify the sons of Levi and refine them
like gold and silver, and then they will make the offering to Yahweh
as it should be made…

In other words, “Be careful what you pray for. You may get it!”

Our knee jerk reaction to a passage like this might be, “Uh oh. This doesn’t sound so good. What kind of punitive God is this?” But think about it. Think about those words “refine” and “purify.” They are the words of making better; they are the words of tough love. They are the words of “whom the Lord loveth, he chasteneth.” The better to prepare them for the challenges they are to face. Like the hated drill sergent the soldier hates but about whom, looking back after surviving combat using what he learned, he claims saved his life!

This is a season much associated with Handel’s Messiah. It contains many of these words from Malachi. Did you know that, after its first presentation, in London in 1741, Handel wrote to a friend, “I should be sorry if I only entertained them. (The audience.) I wished to make them better.” Or that that intent was so important to him, he so saw his oratorio’s function as participating in the reflective/repentant theme of Advent that, even though by 1751 he was blind, until his death he conducted it as an annual benefit for the Foundling Hospital in London, which served mostly widows and orphans of the clergy?

If you think about it, most things for which we hope and wish carry with them a combination of anticipation and apprehension.

Think of the Nativity and think of a pregnancy period: Families are eager for the arrival of the child. A room is prepared. Furniture is secured. Relatives and friends are notified. Some of us want to know if it’s to be a boy or a girl, or even twins! Others want to be surprised. But we also count the fingers and toes. The couple thinks, “We hope he/she is healthy. How will we support him/her? How will it be to change the diapers? The 3 o’clock feeding?”

Before a wedding, with all the excitement, the happiness, still in many places it’s custom for the father of the bride to whisper in her ear, even as the two are about to march down the aisle, or the best man to whisper in the groom’s ear, “You know, you don’t have to do this!” And a common folk comment is that the night before the bride sleeps like a baby and it’s the groom who’s up all night, sweating, thinking about the responsibility he’s about to assume.

As appears to be true of any passage: Getting ready for a vacation. Approaching retirement. As a child leaves for college or their first apartment.

We might consider the uncertainties and ambivalences of our lives as normal process, part of the refinement and purification of a loving God, happening under His control and on His timetable.

The messengers provide us material for anticipation and the reflection that leads to preparation, repentance or both. Pick the concept you find most appealing because they’re pretty much the same, if the reflection is productive.

We can hope and pray the result will be others being able to say of us what the Apostle Paul wrote to the Philippians:

I thank my God whenever I think of you; and every time I pray for all
of you, I pray with joy, remembering how you have helped to spread
the Good News from the day you first heard it right up to the present.
I am quite certain that the One who began this good work in you
Will see that it is finished when the Day of Christ Jesus comes.

SERMON
at
Christ Church, Watertown, Connecticut
Advent Sunday
November 29, 2009
by
The Rev. Stanley C. Kemmerer, AHC

See, the days are coming---it is Yahweh who speaks---when I am going to fulfill the promise I made to the House of Israel and to the House of Judah:

“In those days and at that time,
I will make a virtuous Branch grow for David,
who shall practice honesty and integrity in the land.
In those days Judah shall be saved
and Israel shall dwell in confidence.
And this is the name the city will be called:
Yahweh-our-integrity.”
The words of the prophet Jeremiah.

We hear these words echoed in English translation in the beginning aria of Handel’s Messiah….

Comfort ye… comfort ye… my people…saith your God
For your warfare…your warfare…is accomplished
And your iniquity is pardoned

Yet these same words are held in tension by this morning’s passage from St. Luke’s Gospel…

“There will be signs in the sun and moon and stars; on earth
nations in agony, bewildered by the clamor of the ocean and
its waves; men dying of fear as they await what menaces
the world, for the powers of heaven will be shaken. And
then they will see the Son of Man coming in a cloud with
power and great glory.”

They announce well the mood of the Advent Season. It is an “in between” time in the Church’s liturgical calendar, one filled with the hope and joy and anticipation of the coming of the Christ child at Christmas, and the mixed anticipation and apprehension that attend the Second Coming of the Messiah at the end of time, and that Second Coming’s theme of judgment.

I love Advent! It is, perhaps, my favorite season of the entire Church year.

I love its quiet, meditative spirit.
I love its simplicity.
I love the single white candles in the windows of so many homes.
I love its anticipation of a New Order characterized by peace, justice
and integrity.

I dread not the Feast of Christmas but the way we as a society appear to have come to observe the period from when the first Christmas signs appear, which seem to come earlier and earlier each year, until the post-Christmas gift returns and exchanges taper off. I hate many of its characteristics almost as much as I love the Advent season .

I hate its loudness and garishness.
I hate its naked materialism and commercialism.
I hate its exploitation and manipulation.
I hate the relative deprivation it highlights as the have-lesses are
forced to become so very aware of what the have-mores have.
I hate the meanness its pressures bring out in people I encounter.
as I drive the streets and do what shopping I can’t put off until gift
return season is over.
I hate the guilt trips laid on people as gift giving decisions are made.
I hate the exhaustion the season’s expectations inflict on so many and
the lack of consideration shown by so many of the efforts being put
forth by others.
I hate the unkindness and ingratitude demonstrated in so many homes
to relatives and friends, as gifts are opened and someone “didn’t get
what I wanted” or “didn’t get it right!”

And I can’t help but imagine Jesus looking down on this perversion of the celebration of His birth and singing that popular song, “Look what they did to my song, Ma. Look what they did to my song. It was the only thing I could do half right. Look what they did to my song.”

Point/counterpoint. We, you and I, live in that tension during this season every year. We who go to church encounter Advent wreaths, subdued liturgies, ethereal atmospheres in our worship spaces, and we go out from them into the chaos, personal and civic, of the Christmas Season. We live out in our several ways our personal “in between time.”

We celebrate friendships, renew acquaintances, have so many encounters and treats to which we look forward, and our share of dreads. We make and receive our fair share (maybe sometimes more than our fair share!) of Second Coming-like judgment.

How shall we walk this tightrope? We, of course, will make our various choices, our tradeoffs, based on our attitudes and experiences, what backlash we are willing to endure. I don’t suggest the prejudices reflected in my loves and hates stated earlier are congruent with any of yours, necessarily. Nor that you experience this time in the same way I do. But, just in case you do, I want to remind us:

There are choices we can make, the first and most important of which, perhaps, is to remind ourselves, and to internalize the fact, we do have the right to make choices. We don’t have to conform to others’ expectations or demands. May there be consequences of our little acts of political incorrectness? Of course. But they’re likely to be bearable, and short lived. By next season or the one after those with whom we interact will be used to our customs. And, if they work for us, particularly, and others don’t accept us or those choices, perhaps we should be giving some thought to the value of these relationships that don’t let us be ourselves, that don’t let us embrace behaviors that make our religious lives richer.

It is inconsistent with the spirit of Advent to decorate with any more than greens and wreaths until Christmas Eve day afternoon. In my home it’s not permitted and in the homes of many others I know. It’s not Christmas yet; it’s Advent. Single white bulbs in the windows. A family Advent wreath. If we want to decorate the tree, Christmas Eve day and afternoon are the time. And maybe, just maybe, just that is enough, if more will interfere with our Christian observance of the feast.

Perhaps we would find this time more relaxing and we’d be more rested for the feast if we limited our participation in Christmas observances to the period between Christmas and Epiphany. Twelve days.

Hanukkah gift giving is reserved for the children. Maybe our Jewish brothers and sisters have something to teach us.

And Susan Campbell wrote in a recent Hartford Courant column, “For the past few Christmases, we’ve (she and her husband) skipped a gift exchange and either taken one another out to eat, or we go in for a donation to something like Heifer International….It would be so much easier if all the adults who’ve built their funeral pyres to a sufficient height (She figures “I have accumulated more than enough stuff to make a lovely funeral pyre, and so have most of my friends.”) would agree to buy nothing for one another, wouldn’t it?” She continues, “I don’t mean that in a Grinch-y kind of way but there are people out there who actually need things. I’m not one of them and neither are most of my friends. Factor this in, too. A new Harris Interactive poll said that 38 percent of Americans will give to a charity for the holidays---compared with 49 percent last year: That’s in the midst of an economic meltdown, when people most need charity.”

We might remember the gift giving described in Scripture didn’t even take place until Epiphany, with the coming of the Magi and, even then, the only gifts given were to the newborn King.

We might use the quiet, reflective time of Advent to take stock. Advent Sunday is, after all, the Church’s “New Year.” Most of us took a vow to follow the One whose birth we celebrate at Christmas. In our baptisms. In our confirmations. And we’ve renewed that vow at every baptism in the Church we’ve attended. We’ve also vowed at weddings we’ve attended “to support and uphold” the couples. How have we done? How do we intend to do?

Knowing how stressful the outside world is during these weeks, we might try to get more rest, spend more time in quiet, pamper and refuel a little more, so we’re not as cranky as we might otherwise be under the circumstances.

We might consider substituting a plan to contact those on our Christmas card list over the course of the coming year. Individually. Rather than raising our stress level and concentrating the contact cost in a couple month period and being superficial at that, by sending Christmas cards and/or Christmas letters. It might add a new depth to friendship maintenance.

As we make decisions about where and with whom we celebrate the feast we might devote attention to what enables us to enjoy it most, as opposed to what others may “expect.” We don’t “have” to go to anybody’s, especially if to do so is to subject ourselves to dysfunction and pain. When it seems indicated, being with one’s “family of reference,” (friends---which may include certain family members, if they’re also friends…) may be preferred to being with a dysfunctional “family of origin.

A blessed+ “between times” Advent to you and yours, in the peace of God which passes all understanding.

SERMON
at
Christ Church, Watertown, Connecticut
Pentecost XX
October 18, 2009
by
The Rev. Stanley C. Kemmerer, AHC

Mommy, Mommy, Mommy, I want to sit up front!” “That’s not fair! I’m older.!”

“No! I should sit in front. I’m shorter! You’re taller. You can see just fine in back!”

No! Me, Mommy! You know I get car sick when I sit in the back…..”

Sound familiar? Get a group of sales executives together and listen to them compare their “numbers.” Or parents or grandparents talk about their kids and who should get the prize, the award. Soccer moms. Little League dads. See the bumper stickers, “My child is an honor student at…..” Or, in parishes across this land that have Christmas pageants, imagine being a fly on the wall as the discussion goes on about whose kid gets to be Mary and whose gets to be Joseph!

Disciples, too, hunh?

James and John, the sons of Zebedee, approached him. “Master,”
they said to him, “we want you to do us a favor….Allow us to sit
one at your right hand and the other at your left in your glory.”

So I guess we Anglicans follow in a long tradition…Even though the sees of Canterbury and York are theoretically equal in importance, dividing jurisdiction of England in half, Canterbury responsible for the south and York the north, it is the Archbishop of Canterbury who is primus inter pares (“first among equals”) as titular, or symbolic head of the communion, not the Archbishop of York. Want to know why? Because, tradition has it, when it was decided one would have primacy and the king was deciding who, the incumbent Archbishop of Canterbury lept to sit on the king’s right to claim it, edging out the Archbishop of York!

Well, the passage tells us the absolutely predictable happened with this juvenile behavior of the disciples:

When the other ten heard this they began to feel indignant with James
and John…”


Of course they did. Just as siblings do, parents do, clerics do, with this kind of behavior.

The disciples just…don’t…get…it: that the essence of discipleship is not personal glorification but servanthood. As Mark records, Jesus has tried to get it through their thick skulls:

SERMON
at
Christ Church, Watertown, Connecticut
Pentecost XXIV
November 15, 2009
by
The Rev. Stanley C. Kemmerer, AHC

In this morning’s Lesson from the Hebrew Scriptures we encounter a desperate and despondent woman: Hannah. Hers is a story to which any woman who has suffered from infertility or had difficulty conceiving will relate. But the pain these women have experienced pales in comparison to that Hannah must have experienced.

Hannah is one of two wives of a man of Ramathaim…whose name was Elkanah. His other wife was named Peninnah. Penninah had children but Hannah had none. Every year this man used to go up from his town to worship and to sacrifice to Yahweh Sabaoth in Shiloh.

One day Elkanah offered sacrifice. He used to give portions to Penninah and to all her sons and daughters; to Hannah, however, he would give only one portion, although he loved her more, since Yahweh had made her barren. Her rival (Elkanah’s other wife) would taunt her to annoy her, because Yahweh had made her barren. And this went on year after year; every time they went up to the temple of Yahweh she used to taunt her. And so Hannah wept and would not eat.

Her barrenness held an importance for Hannah greater than her husband did. Then Elkanah her husband said to her, “Hannah why are you crying and why are you not eating? Why so sad? Am I not more to you than ten sons?”

Apparently not, because after they had eaten in the hall, Hannah rose and took her stand before Yahweh, while Eli the priest was sitting on his seat by the doorpost of the temple of Yahweh. In the bitterness of her soul she prayed to Yahweh with many tears and made a vow, saying, “Yahweh Sabaoth! If you will take notice of the distress of your servant, and bear me in mind and not forget your servant and give her a man-child, I will give him to Yahweh for the whole of his life…”

This was so important to her that, in effect, while praying for fertility she was bargaining much of the joy of parenting she would have had because, as following scripture records, the child Samuel was turned over to Eli at a very early age and for the rest of his life, as promised. Perhaps easier to understand if we keep in mind that in Hannah’s culture much of a woman’s worth and honor was tied to her ability to give birth to children, and especially male children.

But Hannah kept her focus. She was single minded. And, as we know, Yahweh granted her request. Samuel grew up to be a prophet and judge, one of the most highly regarded ones, who would be the one to anoint both Saul and, later, his son, David, as kings.

The author of the Epistle to the Hebrews faces a different challenge: Keeping the early Christians in the Faith. As one commentary puts it, In the first century becoming a Christian could involve considerable personal sacrifice. It sometimes meant the severing of family ties, the loss of job opportunities and income, and even arrest, torture, and execution. The Christians to whom Hebrews was written apparently endured “hard struggle with sufferings, sometimes being publicly exposed to abuse and persecution, and sometimes being partners with those so treated.” It seems that some of the Christians were imprisoned and others were robbed of their possessions. There were many reasons not to become a Christian, and if one did become a Christian, there were many reasons to recant.

Again, keeping the focus is important. Not to do so is to lose the salvation gained through Christ’s atonement on the cross and discipleship. You will need endurance to do God’s will and gain what he has promised….Let us keep firm in the hope we profess, because the one who made the promise is faithful. Let us be concerned for each other, to stir a response in love and good works. Do not stay away from the meetings of the community, as some do, but encourage each other to go…

Similarly, the readers of Mark’s Gospel are urged to keep their focus. This passage, widely interpreted (incorrectly the commentators tell us) as about the end of the world, is more a warning about what happens in times of upheaval when “false prophets” arise, distracting the faithful from the steady course.

The early Christian community was living under Roman rule. By the time Mark’s Gospel was written a number of outrages had occurred, among them:

SERMON
at
Christ Church, Watertown, Connecticut
Pentecost XIX
October 11, 2009
by
The Rev. Stanley C. Kemmerer, AHC

“Good master, what must I do to inherit eternal life?”

“Go and sell everything you own and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me.”

But his face fell at these words and he went away sad, for he was a man of great wealth.

Salvation sticker shock: A customer comes interested in salvation. He’s got a high credit score. He’s kept the Commandments. He’s pleasant about it, addressing the credit manager as “Good master.” He’s just making sure he’s dotted all the “I”s and crossed all the “t”s. Why is he not approved, ferevvinsakes??? We sympathize.

Even the disciples were “astounded” at Jesus’ commentary, “How hard it is for those who have riches to enter the kingdom of God!” To borrow from computer language, Peter utters his personal OMG: “What about us? We have left everything and followed you?” If a person of “quality”, like this rich, young ruler can’t make it, how can we poor slobs? Are we suckers, or what???

There’s a lot more here than meets the eye and the encounter is much more confrontational than it appears. Let’s take a closer look:

For one thing, though it appears the young man is cozying up by his greeting, he’s really being demanding and Jesus slaps him down.

In those days such a public compliment as “Good master” increased the reputation and, therefore, the honor of the recipient. It was expected the recipient would respond by granting a favor. Not to do so was not to be honorable. The transaction is less a matter of “Tell me what more I need to do to inherit eternal life and I’ll do it/You’re the pro/I know you know the way,” and more “I just honored you/Gimme eternal life!” Jesus knows to be “bought” like this would mortgage his ability to call the man to true righteousness.

So he isn’t having any: “Whaddya mean calling me ‘good.’ (I’m on to you!) No one is good but God alone. You know the commandments…”(He names several.)

Jesus, ever the teacher, uses the encounter to work with two concepts related to wealth as they apply to discipleship.

The first is that there are limited supplies of it so, for some to hog it, harms others. In Jesus’ day it took longer to produce goods and doing so was considerably more labor intensive than it is in ours. Most things---food, drinkable water, the material used to make clothing, land that could be farmed---were in limited supply. Those like the young man, who had a lot, had it at the expense of others.

Well, you know, the legal profession uses a phrase that applies here: nunc pro tunc, “now as then.” When we use limited resources, others suffer too. Some societies are more sensitive to that than others.

I noticed, travelling in Turkey, that the Turks cluster where they live; they don’t build on any land that can be farmed. And Turkey is one of but six countries, we were told, that produces more food than it consumes!

I drive a Prius. I don’t claim moral superiority for that because, I have to admit, ethical issues didn’t influence the choice nearly as much as saving money on gas. Well, maybe SOMEtimes I look down my nose a little at those who drive the trucks that pass for modes of transportation these days…BUT, travelling in France last year in the Prius I was careful to rent so I wouldn’t have to learn new dashboard arrangements, headlight functions and the like, I was brought up short. That Prius was one of the largest cars on the road and several of the French I met wondered why I was so proud of hogging resources by using a car that burned gasoline as opposed to less refined diesel!

We noted they use dual flush toilets to conserve on water. We saw wind farms producing their electricity. And we noticed you don’t get to leave the lights on in your room (We’ve found that to be true in other countries as well.). To activate them you have to put your room key in a receptacle. When you take it out to go out, all the lights go off! And the lights that go off? Lower wattage. Probably flourescent!

Based on this Gospel, I suspect Jesus would find it unconscionable the attitude our political leaders have displayed in the recent past toward international efforts to conserve resources and to reduce pollution. I doubt he’d be much moved by resistance based on preservation of jobs.

More likely, he’d be asking why decisionmakers, particularly Christian ones, aren’t turning their attention and financial resources to the creation of jobs that protect the environment, like the Danes who are making a bundle selling windmills to the French and the people of Prince Edward Island. The latter now derive 5% of their energy from their windfarms, 10% within a few years. And they’re well down the road to developing fuel cells that utilize hydrogen, an element in abundance!

The other concept related to wealth Jesus is addressing is the one that argues it’s a sign of divine favor, like the folk in the C street fraternity house in Washington inhabited by several of our legislators, argue.

Au contraire! It isn’t your possessions, your family, obeying rules, that brings eternal life. It takes God for that. It’s not about the letter of the Law; it’s about the spirit of the Law. Notice: All the commandments Jesus chooses to cite to the rich young ruler have to do with the treatment of one’s neighbor: “You must not kill; You must not commit adultery;You must not steal; You must not bring false witness: You must not defraud;Honor your father and your mother.”

HowEVER…entering God’s Kingdom, he tells them, may mean the loss of everything they thought important before. He refers to leaving “house, brothers, sisters, father, children or land for my sake and for the sake of the gospel” and promises repayment a hundred times over

We in our time have little concept, much as we trumpet “family values”, of how radical an expectation this was. In the ancient near east family was everything. It defined who you were, what you did for a living, how you were regarded. The individualism we practice would have been totally foreign to that culture. So, to abandon family meant leaving the family business shorthanded, losing your identity. It was the epitome of betrayal.

Many who are first will be last, and the last will be first. To be a Christian in those days was to join a group of people who were held in low regard.

Well, guess what? Nunc pro tunc. Now as then. There are those who say we live in a post-Christian era. No small number wonder why a person would sacrifice sleeping in on Sunday, invest time and energy in religious activity, or take from funds available for other entertainments to give it away in an offering.

For inner peace maybe? To find in the worship and teaching practical ways to get through the week maybe? To put meaning in one’s life maybe? To gain the satisfaction of making a difference to someone else in his or her struggle maybe?

Because all the chasing after the toys of this world sure doesn’t seem to be getting it. Not as alone and frightened as so many feel. Not with the thirst for a spirituality so many claim. Else why would Bowling Alone or The Purpose Driven Life have sold so many copies.

What must we do to inherit eternal life? How may we experience the Kingdom without having to die first? Not as so many in our society are doing, apparently.

There is a way. Jesus reminds us of that way in this gospel lesson. It focuses on people, not things. It focuses on sharing, not hogging or taking advantage. It focuses on quality, not quantity.

SERMON
at
Christ Church, Watertown, Connecticut
Pentecost XVII
September 27, 2009
by
The Rev. Stanley C. Kemmerer, AHC

“But anyone who is an obstacle to bring down one of these little ones who have faith, would be better thrown into the sea with a great millstone around his neck. And if your hand should cause you to sin, cut it off; it is better for you to enter into life crippled, than to have two hands and go to hell, into the fire that cannot be put out. And if your foot should cause you to sin, cut it off; it is better for you to enter into life lame, than to have two feet and be thrown into hell. And if your eye should cause you to sin, tear it out; it is better for you to enter into the Kingdom of God with one eye, than to have two eyes and be thrown into hell…”

At the very least, this Gospel tells us our responsibilities as disciples extend well beyond managing our own behaviors; they include responsibility for how those behaviors affect the discipleship of others.

Especially the discipleship of “these little ones who have faith,” which I take to have meant, in those days, particularly, the catechumens, those new to the faith, taking their first baby steps of discipleship.

Obviously, the Gospel writer feels strongly about the matter because the punishment is severe: to be thrown into hell “into the fire that cannot be put out.”

This phenomenon---the impact the behavior of an individual or a group has on others, those new to association with it, or considering association with it, is particularly worth examination in a community at the stage of its life ours is, entering a new chapter of our common life.

We’ve been working hard. In less than two years we’ve come from a handful of survivors held together mostly by hope and cherished space, with fond memories, to a growing number attracted by our pluck, our warmth, our energy who, faced with the need to vacate the original space, discovered we had created a new, emerging community that gave us the courage to enter a new situation pretty much whole.

We’ve given of our time, our energy, and our resources to address the challenge of supporting ourselves as we move from the support of the larger church. We’re discovering new things about who we are and what we may become, perhaps at once scary and exciting. We’ve attracted notice, which has inspired a generous donation of seed money to bring us through the fourth quarter.
Christ Church, Watertown, Connecticut
Pentecost XVII (B), Proper 16, 2009
Page Two

We need to use that time well, to get a clearer vision of ourselves, who we are, what our long suits are and what our limitations are, what we have to offer prospective members, what constituencies we’re best suited to serve, and how to make them aware of what we have to offer. Finally, we need to make the offer, seek its acceptance, and integrate these newcomers into our fellowship.

We enter a new phase now, one that moves from marketing to sales, in which follow up becomes important, outside the comfort zone of most of us. A friend who’d spent many years in sales, then in sales management, told me, “I’ve spent my entire career talking to people who didn’t really want to talk to me.”

It may be some of those we approach will want to talk to us. But when the conversation starts to reflect expectation, commitment, a bit less so. It risks losing prospects. But it also may attract the kind of prospect that responds to calls for commitment.

You gardeners know what I mean. For a garden to grow and flourish, pruning is required. Those of you treating illnesses know what I mean. All medications, each designed to heal in its own way, have contraindications, entail risks. Pick up a prescription, read the list, and, with trembling hands, reach for the bottle. Press a physician and you’ll be told, “I wouldn’t have prescribed it if the risks weren’t outweighed by the benefits to you.”

The Gospel talks about a hand, a foot, or an eye causing one to sin. I must admit I came up empty handed with examples of the hand. Though perhaps not so hard. Many of us, perhaps, who are social drinkers and have been at an event where alcohol is available but are with someone with a drinking problem have probably considered whether, in this situation, perhaps we should abstain. Or perhaps considering a dessert when dining with a person who has diabetes.

It’s easy enough to imagine the eye leading to lust or greed, envy or even gluttony. Oh yeah: most of us can associate the eye and the cheesecake all right!

But, for me, as I thought of this sermon, the foot came most to mind and in a particular way---in its association with a body part the Gospel doesn’t mention: the mouth. As in, “open mouth, insert foot!”





Christ Church, Watertown, Connecticut
Pentecost XVII (B), Proper 16, 2009
Page Three

You and I have been treated over these last several weeks to graphic and brutal examples of how the mouth can be used “to bring down…these little ones who have faith.” In the debates over healthcare reform. The incivility. The threats. The verbal terrorism. Dialogue has been difficult to come by. Participants are too busy shouting their viewpoints to be able to hear or even consider an opposing viewpoint or formulate questions that would draw the opposing speaker out, produce at least understanding of the assumptions supporting the position. What we tell ourselves reality is, whether it is correct or incorrect, produces our behavior.

In the healthcare reform legislation debates a significant universe of “little ones” are senior citizens, people on fixed incomes. But similar failures at dialogue can be found in any discussions in which people have strong feelings.

When they happen in churches they drive prospects and members away.

We have said there would be less divorce if the partners to marriages had the attitude, “We’re not going anywhere; let’s find a way to make this work,” rather than, “I can always get a divorce.” Churches would do better were they to embrace the “We’re not going anywhere; let’s find a way to make this work” attitude too. And they’d grow faster.

We will not always agree. That’s normal. Dissent is to be expected. And treasured. It should inspire, however, a particular kind of conversation:

One of the parties states the situation from their perspective. The other listens carefully, not to respond but to understand, then states what they understand the other person to be saying. Assuming they have understood, they now offer their view while the other person listens, to understand. Once both understand the other---And misunderstandings are so common there was a comic strip which featured a series of “He said/She heard”s.---they can think through how they can proceed from there.

Difference is important. It is not to be feared; it is to be embraced. It’s how we grow. It’s how we learn. When someone “loses” and leaves an important balance is lost. We need difference to keep one another honest.

It can be a word, a sentence. I lived many years in the greater Boston area, as many of you know. When I had mentioned an interest in the Boston Symphony concerts, a friend with some familiarity with Symphony Hall where they’re held, commented, “Oh, I’d never go there. Those awful seats!” So I didn’t.

Christ Church, Watertown, Connecticut
Pentecost XVII (B), Proper 21
Page Four

Finally, I did, only a few years before I moved here. I didn’t find those seats awful at all! Symphony Hall is one of the three most acoustically perfect concert halls in the world and the Boston Symphony one of its greatest orchestras. Because of one comment, I’d lost 10 years of pleasure that could have been mine!

We need to think twice as we comment about the internal life of a community of faith, not only with prospects, but with one another. Hope is a fragile thing. So is faith in the future. A phrase I heard often in my childhood, perhaps you heard it in yours, was “Don’t cry before you’re hurt.” It’s wise advice.

How many people when there’s a change in management, a merger, or acquisition, will say, “Uh oh. I’m outta here!” reflecting their belief the result of the change will be worse working conditions, layoffs, you name it. How often do we consider it could be just the reverse. It could be better working conditions, more enlightened management, hiring, raises. Those things won’t go to those who left, who “cried before they were hurt,” rather than once they’d seen it was going to be worse.

I’m inclined to think the Gospel’s reference to hell being the penalty is not to the graphically depicted hell of Hieronymus Bosch paintings or hellfire and damnation preachers. But to lost opportunities, the pain of “what might have been,” not achieved. So, as we conduct ourselves in these very important months of this next chapter in our common life, I hope we’ll keep this Gospel’s message in mind, prepared to prune judiciously when indicated, change when indicated, and careful to remember what may seem little and individual actions to us may cause a “little one” to fall.

SERMON
at
Christ Church, Watertown, Connecticut
Pentecost XII
August 23, 2009
by
The Rev. Stanley C. Kemmerer

Some 30 years ago on a sunny fall morning I pulled a metal folding chair over to the top of the chancel steps of the parish I had served for 9 ½ years, sat down and, quoting from Robert Frost’s poem, “The Road Not Taken, quietly told that congregation it would be my last Sunday.

Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,
And sorry I could not travel both
And be one traveler, long I stood
And looked down one as far as I could
To where it bent in the undergrowth;

Then took the other, as just as fair,
And having perhaps the better claim,
Because it was grassy and wanted wear;
Though as for that, the passing there
Had worn them really about the same,

And both that morning equally lay
In leaves no step had trodden black.
Oh, I kept the first for another day!
Yet knowing how way leads on to way,
I doubted if I should ever come back.

I shall be telling this with a sigh
Somewhere ages and ages hence;
Two roads diverged in a wood, and I---
I took the one less traveled by,
And that has made all the difference.

I offered that congregation that morning a theology of vocation, of a call, that I dare say was a departure from the one most of them held. I knew not what was next. It didn’t really matter to me, I told them, because, looking back, my travels had taken me places I could never have imagined they would (They still do!) but wherever they had taken me, it had always turned out all right!

I suggested we are accustomed to thinking of a call as being to the ministry, to something. Why could it not as well move around? Why could it not evolve? Why could it not be through the ministry to something else? perhaps using the experience of ministry to inform the next life chapter.

You see, for the Christian, all is prologue. Life is pilgrimage. We’re on a journey.
This morning’s Scriptures remind us it’s not about the stuff of life. It’s about what’s “between the ears” of life.

King David’s son, perhaps the even greater King Solomon, given the opportunity, doesn’t ask Yahweh God for stuff. He asks for a quality---wisdom---to lead “this great people” Yahweh God has given into his care.

Solomon has built Yahweh God the great Temple in Jerusalem. The Grand Opening has just been held. And this morning’s Lesson from the Hebrew Scriptures contains Solomon’s prayer for himself, uttered in that great Temple:

Then ( in the presence of the whole assembly of Israel) Solomon
stood before the altar of Yahweh and, stretching out his hands
toward heaven, said, “Yahweh, God of Israel, not in heaven
above nor on earth beneath is there such a God as you, true
to your covenant and your kindness toward your servants when
they walk wholeheartedly in your way. You have kept the
promise you made to your servant David my father. (That he would
put his son on the throne, to follow him.)…Yet will God really live
with men on the earth? (I guess we’ve learned the answer to that one!) Why the heavens and their own heavens cannot contain you. How much less this house that I have built!...Day and night let your eyes watch over this place of which you have said, “My name shall be there.” Listen to the prayer that your servant will offer in this place.

In his pilgrimage, Solomon grew up in an environment full of the relationship of his father David to his God and the promises that God had made to his father, now being acted out. His prayer reflects his awe at experiencing that reality.

St. Paul reminds us, in the passage from Ephesians, that our pilgrimage will involve struggle but that struggle is less one against human enemies as one against the “between the ears” stuff.

For it is not against human enemies that we have to struggle,
but against the Sovreignties and the Powers who originate
the darkness in this world, the spiritual army of evil in the
heavens. Like doubt, lack of self-confidence, fear. (Remember
President Franklin Delano Roosevelt’s counsel to a frightened
nation facing similar problems to the ones we face?---“The only
thing we have to fear is fear itself!”)

Pray all the time, asking for what you need…Forget about the
flowery prose of books of prayer. Just talk with God.

In the this morning’s reading from John’s Gospel Jesus responds to the disciples’ challenge his talking about himself as food is “intolerable language. How could anyone accept it” by saying,

It is the Spirit (the “between the ears stuff”) that gives life,
the flesh (material world=things) has nothing to offer.

So, why are you and I here this morning? This hot, humid summer morning. How did the road of our several pilgrimages bring us here. to Walker Hall? What is our answer to the larger question: Why go to church? Why participate in a Christian community? What’s the “deliverable,” the world wants to know. And we, brothers and sisters in Christ, shall surely have to have an answer if we are to engage in convincing conversation with those outside our doors, to be able to give them, to share with them, what we have found here.

And we do have the answer: It is in our journeys. It is in our stories. Of how we got here. And why we stay here. Our next challenge is to gain the skill to pull the story, the experiences from “between our ears” to come out of our mouths…
our own several versions of what, for our society is the “other road…just as fair…
having perhaps the better claim because” (in our society it is) “grassy” and wants “wear.” And why that “road less travelled by” we’ve taken and are taking is, for us, making “all the difference.” Let’s work together, using our several talents and backgrounds, to meet that challenge!

SERMON
at
Christ Church, Watertown, Connecticut
Pentecost XI
August 16, 2009
by
The Rev. Stanley C. Kemmerer, AHC

“I tell you most solemnly,
if you do not eat the flesh of the Son of Man
and drink his blood,
you will not have life in you…”

Food again! Why??? What has gotten into this Savior of ours? Enough already! Why doesn’t he give it a rest? And the Standing Liturgical Commission: What’s wrong with them? This is the third week in a row we get the “bread of life” metaphor. And the Gospel author, John: What is he on about?

I think I can tell you: The repetition is about two, maybe three, things:

SERMON
at
Christ Church, Watertown, Connecticut
Pentecost X
August 9, 2009

The Gospels for last week and this almost make me think I’m watching the Food Channel! All this talk of eating and flesh!

In last week’s Gospel we find Jesus, in effect, telling the crowd that followed him, “You’re not running after me because of wonders I’ve performed that demonstrate who I am---the Son of God…the Savior of the world. You’re running after me because you got fed. To you, it’s not about me and who I am; it’s about your pedestrian desires and your desire to use me!” He tells them to get their minds off transitory, material nutrition and onto eternal, spiritual nutrition.

In this week’s Gospel it’s almost like what happens in a CT scan: the camera angle changes and a slightly different perspective is offered. He’s saying, “Go ahead. Use me. That’s what I’m here for. The issue wasn’t that you shouldn’t have needs. It wasn’t that you shouldn’t seek to get them met. It was the priority you were placing on certain needs over other needs, distracting yourself from the important stuff. You were focussing on wants, not relationships. I’m telling you if you’ll focus on relationships, particularly your relationship with me and the Father who sent me, the wants will take care of themselves!

Of all the gospels, John’s is the most intellectual. It’s less stories and more symbols. “I am the light of the world.” “I am the bread of life.” That kind of thing.

So what this morning’s Gospel is telling us is metaphorical in character. It’s reminding us of a fact: We are what we eat. If you doubt that, turn on your television set. Carbs. Sugars. Junk food. Excess. = Obesity. Fruits and vegetables. Fiber. Exercise. = Buff. Youth. Energy. Health.

My friend Abdullah doesn’t watch the news. He reads the newspaper sparingly. He finds spending too much time on the news interferes with the quality of his prayer life. Abdullah and his wife Osuman are observant Muslims. They stop what they’re doing five times a day and go apart and pray. Their prayers are punctuated with the 99 attributes of God (Allah, to them.), the foremost of which is “Allah, the all merciful.” The other characteristics are all positive. This constant reminder of goodness and grace results in their being gentle, positive, confident people.

Years ago a Presbyterian minister named Norman Vincent Peale tapped into this kind of reality by writing a book titled, The Power of Positive Thinking. Those who read and used it discovered using its precepts changed their lives. In their cases they became what they read (ate) with their eyes---more upbeat, more confident.

Peale was followed by the Simontons, Fort Worth physicians and medical researchers, who published Getting Well Again: A Step-by-Step, Self-Help Guide to Overcoming Cancer for Patients and their Families and by Dr. Kenneth R. Pelletier’s Mind as Healer/Mind as Slayer: A Holistic Approach to Preventing Stress Disorders. Those who read and followed the advice of these books became what they read (ate)---healthy.

Think of the phrase, “I don’t want to go near (fill in the personality, ethnic group, etc.)…It might ‘rub off.’” The reverse is why we hang around Jesus: We want it to “rub off.”

“I am the bread of life.
He who comes to me will never be hungry;
he who believes in me will never thirst.

Spiritually. Metaphorically. But, later, materially. Because, as we become what we eat, we come to possess the inner peace which makes us physically healthier. We move from attitudes of scarcity to attitudes of abundance. Doing so releases us to be more inclined to take the risks that bring results. We start to have the detachment that enables us to think more clearly and make wiser decisions about the practical matters.

“No one can come to me
unless he is drawn by the Father who sent me

That’s how we come to eat the bread of life. We take the leap of faith that the promises are true. We behave “as if.” In little things. Our first metaphorical “bites.” We experience the result. We risk bigger bites.

Example: Close up and personal. We’re here. In Walker Hall. Together.

Our very presence, as we’ve articulated it in various of our meetings, our relationships with one another, feed us.

And they feed others who come by. Shopping. Trying us out. Who find “bread” here they’ve missed elsewhere. And come back. Become part of us, helping us feed others.

I tell you most solemnly,
everybody who believes has eternal life.
“Has.” Not “will have.” Has already.

Anyone who eats this bread will live forever;
And the bread that I shall give
is my flesh, for the life of the world.”

“For…the…life…of…the…world.”

Ours is an incarnational religion. Materialistic. What can be seen and touched. God (spirit) became man (something that could be seen…touched.).

Just as Jesus and our relationship with Him became the bread for us, we, his people, are charged with the task…the opportunity…the gift of becoming that bread for those we touch. We dare not lose sight of that mission. We…our presence…who we are…what we do…are in a very real way eternal life…now, for others on whom it rubs off. That they may, as the Psalmist writes, Taste and see how gracious the Lord is.

SERMON
at
Christ Church, Watertown, Connecticut
Pentecost VII
July 19, 2009
by
The Rev. Stanley C. Kemmerer, AHC

“Doom for the shepherds who allow the flock of my pasture to be destroyed and scattered---it is Yahweh who speaks! This, therefore, is what Yahweh, the God of Israel, says about the shepherds in charge of my people: You have let my flock be scattered and go wandering and have not taken care of them…I will take care of you for your misdeeds---it is Yahweh who speaks!”

I must admit when, earlier in the week, I first read this portion of the Lesson from the Hebrew Scriptures, my mind went immediately to the controversy over human sexuality that has occupied ours and several other denominations over the last several years. Not because the passage has anything to do with sexuality but because it talks about bad shepherds.

Now, we’re none of us strangers to the fact the professional leadership of a congregation can significantly affect its direction, its composition. It’s also wisely said that the clergy called to lead a congregation are a reflection of the personality of that calling congregation. It would be difficult for me to imagine Trinity, Copley Square, Boston calling as rector anyone who wasn’t a great preacher, or St. Luke’s, Evanston, Illinois someone who wasn’t interested in the music and liturgy being the best that could be put together. Or All Saints,
Pasadena someone who wasn’t very liberal on social issues.

However, again and again when I uncover a parish up in arms and over the top in its anger toward, and disaffection with, our denomination and our diocese on the issue of inclusivity, invariably it will be led by a priest whose hobby horse this is. It is usually a particular type: full of himself (oddly enough, though there probably are some, what I don’t find are parishes led by women clergy who foam at the mouth this way!), absolutely convinced he knows exactly what the Bible says and that no one else’s understanding is worth even considering.

We are offered a different model for shepherding and for being the Church in this morning’s lessons.

In Paul’s Letter to the Church at Ephesus he addresses a parallel problem of inclusivity: that of gentile/pagan Christians into Jewish Christian congregations.

He reminds the Ephesians Do not forget, then, that there was a time when you who were pagans physically, termed the Uncircumcised by those who speak of themselves (can’t we just see them puffing their chests out…) as the Circumcision by reason of a physical operation, do not forget I say, that you had no Christ and were excluded from membership of Israel, aliens with no part in the covenants with their Promise. You were immersed in this world, without hope and without God. But now in Christ Jesus, you that used to be so far apart from us have been brought very close…

In this morning’s Gospel lesson, Jesus acts out the role of the good shepherd:

First, we find him recognizing the apostles’ exhaustion. Like a good manager, he calls for a “mental health day.”

The apostles (after their missions) rejoined Jesus and told him all they had
done and taught. Then he said to them, “You must come away to some
lonely place all by yourselves and rest for awhile”; for there were so many
coming and going that the apostles had no time even to eat. So they went
off in a boat to a lonely place where they could be by themselves.

It doesn’t work. Even before cell phones and GPS/Onstar, people saw them going, and many could guess where; and from every town they all hurried to the place on foot and reached it before them.

So much for the mental health day. But, although Jesus is weary, this shepherd doesn’t behave as one would expect. He isn’t annoyed. He isn’t irritated these people can’t help themselves from seeking the healing and comfort he/they can give. He isn’t even frustrated and overwhelmed at the enormity of their need.

Instead he took pity on them because they were like sheep without a shepherd.

The founder and president of the company I worked for must have been aware of this passage because it is reflected in a conversation I had with him early in my time with him and is one I’ve tried to remember in similar situations ever since.

I was having a particularly difficult time getting several people who had been put in our care to guide their job searches after they were fired to do the things we know are more effective than usual job search techniques.

What we teach isn’t the usual way. We don’t prioritize applying for jobs, answering ads. We don’t think your resume is anywhere near the most important element in getting either an interview or a job. Rather it gets you weeded out. Human resources isn’t your friend; it’s your enemy as a job seeker, that kind of thing. Why couldn’t they “get it?”

I expected sympathy. I expected an “answer” to give them for their objections. I got neither. The boss said, very quietly and sort of with the voice of a parent to a slow learning child, “Stan…Come to them in love. They’re the ones who need us most.”

That’s what Jesus does. he took pity on them because they were like sheep without a shepherd.

We need to pay attention to what is happening here: People are seeking out Jesus and the disciples because they are able to meet their needs. That’s what being the Church means.

What disturbs me most about certain Christian groups is that they see themselves as the “washed,” the righteous. We seek righteousness, yes, but we must be humble that we are, and must accept ourselves as, human beings, less than perfect, who will fall down, then, often with a little help from our friends, pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and go on. The Church is not, my friends, a rest home for saints nearly as much as a hospital for sinners!

This has been what may well be regarded by future generations as an historic week in the history of the Church, particularly of the Episcopal Church. The passage of D025 made this week historic. It didn’t get nearly the notice I thought it would. Or hasn’t yet. I am confident it will. D025 nullifies B033, passed at the end of the last General Convention, which declared a moratorium on the consecration of gay bishops even in committed relationships.

As significant as its passage is the vote and its meaning.

While the resolution is polite and signfies the Episcopal Church’s intention to participate as a full constituent member church of the confederation of national churches known as the Anglican Communion, it a) makes clear the Episcopal Church is autonomous (Thank you very much, we’ll make our own decisions what’s permissible and what’s not!) and b) the Anglican Communion is not the only cooperative venture in which it participates.

It makes clear being in a committed same-sex relationship is not a deal breaker to being elected or consecrated a bishop in this church.

While committing to continued financial support of Communion projects, it reminds the Communion “The Episcopal Church contributes a substantial portion of the Inter Anglican budget.” That language is kind: We, in fact, bankroll the Communion. Without our support it would go belly up. Africa and the Southern Cone may have numbers and big mouths; they do not have any money!

Significant is that the Archbishop of Canterbury, after the House of Deputies passed the original resolution by more than a 2-1 margin (It wasn’t even close!), expressed his concern Deputies would take this action and told the bishops, “You can block this (resolution=kill it)…” Apparently, that ill-conceived meddling in our internal affairs did not sit well with the bishops because, with minor amendments, they then concurred, again by a 2-1 margin, again not even close!

In other resolutions one which had our three bishops as co-sponsors asked that individual dioceses be given the latitude to work out their respective positions on blessing civil unions or same-sex marriages in those states that permit them, and responding liturgically to committed same-sex relationships in states that don’t. Another asked that work be done to be presented to the next General Convention to produce appropriate liturgies for the Church to reflect greater inclusiveness around human sexuality.

So, what’s historic about this week is our church’s rediscovery of its spirit as a communion aware adherents can differ mightily on issues of the day and worship in one church (Note the resolutions do not call on any with more conservative views to consider themselves outside the fellowship nor does it require any dioceses to do any of the actions covered; rather, in true Anglican fashion, it permits now a wider range of practice.).

And these actions are consistent with this morning’s scripture lessons:
As people ourselves at various times in our history viewed as being
“beyond the pale,” they position us to include still another group
that we’ve marginalized, just as we previously have come to include
persons of color, women, and other minorities.

They position us as that place where people are invited to come
accepted as who they are, not judged for matters over which
they have no control, indeed celebrated for the diverse perspectives
they bring, to enrich our common life.
Thanks be to God!

SERMON
at
Christ Church, Watertown, Connecticut
Pentecost V
July 5, 2009
by
The Rev. Stanley C. Kemmerer, AHC

What’s it like to be an ambassador of the living God? What does it take?
This morning we find out.

We look at the stories of three biblical figures: the Prophet Ezekiel, the Apostle Paul, and Jesus and the disciples.

The Ezekiel passage tells us the ambassador doesn’t necessarily have a choice---either about serving or about those to whom he is sent:

“Son of man, stand up, I am going to speak to you.” As he said
these words the spirit came into me and made me stand up,
and I heard him speaking to me. He said, “Son of man, I am
sending you to the Israelites, to the rebels who have turned
against me….The sons are defiant and obstinate; I am sending
you to them to say, ‘The Lord Yahweh says this.’ Whether
they listen or not, this set of rebels shall know there is a
prophet among them….”

Notice there are three parts to this appointment as ambassador:

• The formal appointment: I am sending you.
• The message: The formula The Lord Yahweh says this. In those days the use of those words would signal to the people Ezekiel’s credentials, his official status as a prophet.
• That it will be felt at least. this set of rebels shall know there is a prophet among them.

SERMON
at
Christ Church, Watertown, Connecticut
Pentecost IV
June 28, 2009
by
The Rev. Stanley C. Kemmerer, AHC

When Jesus had crossed again in the boat to the other side, a large
crowd gathered around him. Then one of the synagogue officials
(read “heavy hitter”) came up, Jairus by name, and seeing him,
fell at his feet and pleaded with him earnestly, saying, “My little
daughter is desperately sick. Do come and lay your hands on
her to make her better and save her life.”

So Jesus heads out but the going isn’t easy…a large crowd followed him; they were pressing all around him. Great! Here he is already tired. He’s just recrossed the Sea of Galilee after the heavy weather getting over in the first place, done some healings there, and recrossed. It’s hot. And he’s got to travel in the middle of a crowd against the deadline of healing a seriously ill, perhaps dying, child of a powerful church leader. Nice!

It gets worse:

Now there was a woman who had suffered from a hemhorrage for
twelve years; after long and painful treatment under various doctors,
she had spent all she had without being any better for it, in fact she
was getting worse. She had heard about Jesus, and she came up
behind him through the crowd and touched his cloak. “If I can touch
even his clothes,” she had told herself, “I shall be well again.” It works!
…the source of the bleeding dried up instantly, and she felt in herself
that she was cured of her complaint.

Fine, but it’s not that simple:

Immediately aware that power had gone out from him, Jesus turned
around in the crowd and said, “Who touched my clothes?”

Halt scene while the disciples tell Jesus, “Hey, dude, it’s a crowd ferrevinssakes. How do we know??? But the woman comes forward and fesses up, all grateful. Jesus won’t take the credit: “My daughter,” he said, “your faith (that touching my garment would get the job done) has restored you to health…”

The delay, however, has consequences: While he was still speaking some people arrived from the house of the synagogue official to say, “Your daughter is dead; why put the Master to any further trouble?” Whoops! Not good poltics---Here Jesus has taken time with this social outcast at the expense of the “quality” people and the daughter has died. There’ll be hell to pay for this!!!

But Jesus is smooth. He overheard this remark of theirs and he said to the official, “Do not be afraid; only (here we go, again…) have faith.” Jesus dumps the crowd, allowing only Peter, James and John to accompany him and Jairus. They get there and it’s the typical grief scene. He wades into it, saying, “Why all this commotion and crying? (Just as he’d confronted the disciples on the boat crossing the Sea of Galilee with “Why are you so frightened? How is it that you have no faith???”) The child is not dead, but asleep.” They’re not having it. But they laughed at him. So, in a fairly cheeky move, if you consider the circumstances, he threw these mourners out and, with the parents and his own companions, went into the place where the child lay. And taking the child by the hand he said to her, “Talitha, kum!” which means “Little girl, I tell you to get up.” The little girl got up at once and began to walk about.

Again, the issue was faith. The parents had faith Jesus could pull it off!

The lesson is clear: What we, looking back, define as miracles come from faith.

You and I may well be in the middle of one in the making. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again---I am often humbled by the faith I see in you in the pews, as over against what I experience sometimes as my own cynicism and doubt. I suggested last week that we are all writing in our blue composition books, like an exam, what our story as a congregation will be. We wrote another chapter last Tuesday night and that chapter participates in the universe one might define as “miracle in the making.” You clearly have been thinking…

Eighteen of you were present, of all ages and all constituencies. As we began, individually, to talk about our thoughts since the June 14th announcement a consensus rapidly began to emerge around the option of pursuing independent status in alternate space, summarized by one of you in the words, “We’re here. (At the meeting.) We’re voting with our feet.” (To be here.) A scant nine days after the announcement:

• Two alternate spaces had been identified and a commitment secured from one, Walker Hall.
• Research was well along (It should be complete by this Tuesday.) on how much in dollars would be required to pay our bills in alternate space, with preliminary estimates we presently are close.

• Several volunteered they already had given thought to what they personally could do to close the gap, some publicly in the meeting, others privately.
• One of our number stepped forward to develop electronic communications to get the word out we’re anything but dead and, to borrow from the late San Francisco City Supervisor, Harvey Milk’s, signature opening, “We’re Christ Church parish and we’re here to recruit you!”
• It was the consensus even scouting out other parishes is premature and a distraction, until or unless it is discovered we can’t build on what we already have.
• A convenor stepped forward to serve as switchboarder, keeping ourselves current with one another, and several immediately volunteered to pick up specific tasks to help her, were she to request/need help with specific tasks.
• It was resolved congregational meetings would continue each Tuesday at 7:00 p.m. for as many Tuesdays as we need, to get ourselves ready for what it will take to continue in new space.
• As one after another of you witnessed to what this fellowship means to you, how far you’ve come from it being about the building, stately as it is, to it being about one another, it became apparent to me in a new way not only that you have what it will take to go on but that you have what it will take to add to your numbers.

SERMON
at
Christ Church, Watertown, Connecticut
Pentecost III
June 21, 2009
By
The Rev. Stanley C. Kemmerer, AHC

June takes me back almost 50 years to the Field House at Middlebury College. It was there I would sit at the long table in the metal folding chair, a pen and a blue composition book in front of me, a box of tissues at my side because, for me, it was hayfever season as well. And I and my instructors would learn what I’d learned. It was final exam time. And across our land in the Year of Our Lord Two Thousand and Nine this late May and June it isn’t all that much different: Students are taking final exams.

How oddly appropriate that at this season of the year we, the people of God in this place, should be taking something of an exam of our own. We probably didn’t pay all that much attention over these months that have gone before. We thought, I dare say, that we were just coming to church. We were singing hymns and saying psalms. We were listening to the Word of God. We were eating and drinking the Body and Blood of His only begotten Son. We were drinking coffee and eating cake and exchanging the news of our respective weeks.

We were doing all those things to be sure. While we were doing those things, as part of doing those things, we either were or were not creating a phenomenon that goes by the name “community.” Or something somewhere in between. And now we are handed a blue book in the form of an announcement by our bishop suffragan that our use of this space must come to an end. A line is drawn in the sand. A date is uttered.

How oddly appropriate that the Scripture appointed for our first public worship after being handed this blue book is that appointed for this day:

A lesson from the Hebrew Scriptures about an adolescent and a bully:
The Philistines mustered their troops for war…One of their
shock-troopers stepped out from the Philistine ranks; his name
was Goliath from Gath; he was six cubits and one span tall.
On his head was a bronze helmet and he wore a breastplate
of scale armor; the breastplate weighed five thousand shekels
of bronze. He had bronze greaves on his legs and a bronze
javelin across his shoulders. The shaft of his spear was like
a weaver’s beam, and the head of his spear weighed six
hundred shekels of iron. A shield bearer walked in front
of him. Pretty impressive, hunh?

He took his stand in front of the ranks of Israel and shouted,
‘Why come out and range yourselves for battle? Am I not a
Philistine and are you not the slaves of Saul? Choose a man
And let him come down to me. If he wins in a fight with me
And kills me, we will be your slaves; but if I beat him and
kill him you shall be our slaves and be servants to us.’ No
need for armies to fight---just me and him! When Saul
and all Israel heard these words of the Philistine they were
dismayed…and…terrified!’

So this boy of, maybe, thirteen, sent to the battle zone to take food to his older brothers as they are preparing to fight army to army, hears the bully making his now-daily challenge. As soon as the Israelites saw this man they all ran away from him and were terrifed.

The kid isn’t. He volunteers. The King isn’t so sure. He says “Are you kidding me? You have no experience. This guy has been a warrior since he was your age.” (Now remember---The stakes are sky high: David loses and all Israel become slaves of the Philistines! The kid is as willing to take on the King as he is the bully. He says, “Lookit. I tend my Dad’s sheep. I do it alone. When a lion or bear took sheep from the flock I offed them. So how’s this bully any different? He’s convincing. The King lets him do it, changing the rules of engagement to one on one. The kid tries on the armor, finds it too cumbersome and goes up against the armored bully unarmed, with his slingshot, kills him with the first shot and the rest is history!

The kid has faith. The kid has self confidence. And the kid prevails. Against impossible odds!

The disciples in the boat in this morning’s Gospel lesson don’t. And they get chewed out for it. Not because they feared the storm. The storm is the storm. It’s worth fearing. Because as much time as they’d spent with Jesus, they apparently still hadn’t “gotten it.” That the Lord of history is more powerful than the demonic forces of the sea!

These are scriptures of faith. The message is clear. Faith is expected to change us. The experience of association is expected to change us. That we face challenges is normal. The test of faith, the test of whether the vaccination of faith has “taken” is how we respond when confronted with these inevitable challenges.

Whatever we are, we as a congregation today are a far cry from the congregation of January 2008. How far a cry is what we are writing in the blue books passed out to us, metaphorically, by last Sunday’s announcement.

Are we just a collection of people who have come to a pleasant space when our schedules have permitted, to have a pleasant experience and go home, or have “bonds of affection” been quietly formed between and among us such that we have developed an intangible “something” that leaves us unwilling to forsake those bonds?

Have the experiences we bring with us to this fellowship included those that tell us challenges, even seemingly impossible ones, can and will be overcome, if we pull together? Have they given us tools we can use to pick ourselves up, dust ourselves off, and change the question from “Why us?” “Why now?” to “What, Lord, are you calling us to do through this experience?” “What signal, Coach, are you giving?” “What play have you diagrammed?”

We are writing the answers in our blue books as we speak. Some of those answers, for some of us, we’ve begun to show to others. For those of you who weren’t present last Sunday afternoon, I can report my pleased surprise how rapid the change in mood of that group was. It was much more rapid than that of most of those I’ve met who have just been told their jobs are over! Several of you have appeared on television or in print. Conversations are already being held with sources of alternate space. And in less than a week from the announcement!

It’s far from time to turn our blue books in. More will be written in them. Significant writing will come from our next congregational meeting, we hope soon to be held.

Will we be David’s. Or terrified disciples in the storm tossed boat crossing the Sea of Galilee. Or something in between or totally other. The choice, truly, is ours, individually, and as a group, and we have the power to make it!

SERMON
at
Christ Church, Watertown, Connecticut
Easter VI
May 17, 2009
by
The Rev. Stanley C. Kemmerer, AHC

“You’ve changed.” Ever had those words spoken to you? Sometimes their meaning is positive. Sometimes it’s not so positive.

Perhaps someone has gone through a stressful time and come out the other side. Sometimes it’s languaged “You’re back! Meaning “You’re your old self again.” And that will be followed by some commentary on what the speaker regards as the defining characteristics of that old self, that better self, that’s now “back.”

Or an experience has changed one. We’ve all heard plenty about experiences that scar: war, child abuse, loss of a loved one, the list goes on. We need to hear of experiences that heal, experiences that redeem, experiences that soften.

I wouldn’t describe myself as an evangelical, yet, for some years I subscribed regularly to a little magazine called Guideposts. It was, and I think still is published by the organization founded by the former pastor of the Marble Collegiate Church in New York City, Norman Vincent Peale, author of the best selling book, The Power of Positive Thinking. What drew me to it was its witnesses, testimonies by ordinary people about commonplace experiences they had of God in their lives. I would read one short article each day or so as part of my evening reading. I always felt more hopeful after doing so. It was a nice frame of mind in which to go to bed.

Peter, in this morning’s lesson from the Acts of the Apostles, is changed by an experience:
While Peter was still speaking the holy spirit came down on all
the listeners. Jewish believers who had accompanied Peter
were all astonished that the Holy Spirit should be poured out
on the pagans (From the Greek word, pas, pagan, meaning
“other.” So, anything “other,” or, as Mainers would put it,
“from away,” than the present group, in this case, Jews.) too,
since they (These Jewish believers who had accompanied
Peter.) could hear them speaking strange languages and
proclaiming the greatness of God. Peter himself then said,
“Could anyone refuse the water of baptism to these people,
now they have received the Holy Spirit just as much as we
have?”

And this is Peter now, the purist, the defender of the Messiah for the Chosen, the “God bless America and nobody else” guy of the New Testament! It came to him unanticipated. He hadn’t asked for the situation. He found himself in it though. And he was open to its power to change him.

When I began my ministry, like most churches the Episcopal church welcomed at the communion rail only those who had been not only baptized but confirmed, and not just in any church but in the Episcopal Church or one of the two other branches of the Catholic (large “C”) Church, the Western or Roman, branch or the Eastern or Orthodox branch. Congregationalists, Lutherans, Methodists, Presbyterians need not apply.

Much to my surprise, I got myself into a situation that changed me in an unexpected way, much as Peter was changed. And by an unexpected group, just as he was changed by an unexpected group. In his case it was the Jews; in mine (are you ready for this?) it was the Roman Catholics!

I’m an associate of a religious order, as many of you know, the one for which Mary leads a number of retreats. My rule of life requires a silent retreat of at least three days duration once a year. There were no Episcopal monasteries or convents near my parish in Iowa at which I could make my retreat, but there was a Trappist abbey close enough. Now, Trappists are designated by the letters OCSO after their names---Order of Cistercians of the Strict Observance. These are not monastic softies! Nonetheless, off I went to the Abbey of Our Lady of New Melleray, outside Dubuque, Iowa.

A plus for me on retreat is the liturgical music. I love to chant. I’d become accustomed to joining in with the monks at Holy Cross Monastery in the chanting of the monastic hours so I asked the guestmaster if that would be permitted there. Not only would it be permitted: I was invited to join the community in choir. But here comes the kicker…He added, “And then come up with the brothers for communion.”

“Wha?” I reminded him I was Anglican, not Roman Catholic. Was this not a barrier? Not there, apparently. He continued, “We know. But you are our guest. Our brother. We would be hurt. Please come.” “Well, I thought, ‘OK. That’s nice of them. And religious houses tend to operate with more independence and be a little more open than parish churches, so ‘fine.’”

It wasn’t until the actual moment when, one by one, we filed out of the choir stalls and formed four lines approaching the four corners of the altar at each of which was a chalice and paten that the acceptance, the love, hit me and, as I took the chalice in my hands to receive, tears streaming down my cheeks, I resolved never again would I deny the Sacrament to another Christian at a Eucharist I celebrated!

As a result of this experience our parish was ahead of both our diocese and the National Church in instituting what in those days was known as “open communion.”

It is the message of this morning’s Scriptures that it will not be so much what we say as how we act and who we are that will mark us as Christian, as “the changed.”

Whoever believes that Jesus is the Christ
has been begotten by God

It isn’t that by saying it we make it happen. Its happening is a gift. Yes, one we can ask for but also one that may come to us unasked for as well.

If you keep my commandments
you will remain in my love
just as I have kept my Father’s commandments
and remain in his love

This is my commandment:
love one another,
as I have loved you.

It has been wisely said that faith is not so much taught as caught. It’s one of the reasons to participate regularly in a worshipping community---to rub shoulders with fellow seekers. We take on the environments in which we function. They “rub off.” It only stands to reason a good way to become “changed” is to associate with those we perceive to be either changed or trying to become changed.

Friends of ours have an exercise they go through when they discover they’re at odds with one another: They will step back and go through this dialogue: “Wait a minute. We’re solid. Who have we just been with?” We need to pay attention to who we’ve just been with, what environment we’ve just been in. Were they, was it, growthful or toxic?

It’s said terminal people don’t want to spend time with negative people. There’s a lesson in that. When we’re “cramming for finals” we focus on the important things.

We also need to look for, or at least embrace, the people and experiences we sense will change us into, or maintain us as, those others will say and sense have been changed by the experience of our God.

SERMON
at
Christ Church, Watertown, Connecticut
Easter V
May 10, 2009
by
The Rev. Stanley C. Kemmerer, AHC

The first thing I do when I’m preparing a sermon is read the lessons appointed to be read that Sunday, in the order in which they will be read, so that I have an overview of what you all will have experienced just before, and so that I can gain an initial sense of how the selected scriptures may be related to one another.

Then I sit quietly and wait for what thoughts may come into my mind. I pay attention to where my mind goes. Freud might say I “free associate.”

When I did that this week and read the Epistle passage about loving one another it seemed a serendipitous selection to be read on Mothers Day, when a lot of attention is given to the positive role mothers play in our lives. It’s a wonderful litmus test for faith: Loving acts are Godlike acts. Whyever would one who has choices in this life, in a society that exacts no penalty anymore for not being affiliated with a church, spend time, money, and energy on doing so if they didn’t find their days went better because of it, discover addressing the challenges of living weren’t easier, or if they weren’t confident there’d be consequences after they died if they didn’t? And fewer and fewer are convinced of that last, we all know!

Ah, but what is love? We use the term a fair amount in our house. We use it spontaneously. One or the other of us will have the thought and we’ll just utter it. One will say (or sometimes call from one part of the house to the other) “I love you.”

One day we developed a new part of that dialogue. I’d said it. Nancy, in something of a “Can we talk?” tone, looked me in the eye and said, “Do you really?” Struggling, I sputtered, “Yes. I do. Why do you ask?” I’m a philosophy major. I’ve studied metaphysics, the subcategory of philosophy that deals with “the thing in itself.” With “what makes a chair a chair?” In what does its “chairness” lie? I found myself reciting acts, events, ways the two of us interact, and concluded, “So, yes, I do love you. Whatever love is….” So now we often add that phrase: “Whatever love is.”

Because I’m not so sure any of us fully know. But I am sure learning, as best we can, is important. And I’m grateful this scripture may prompt the exploration.

I’m pretty sure we have a pretty good handle on its dimension of caring for another, showing kindness toward another, looking out for others’ welfare. I think we in churches have got that down pretty well. We may not always practice it as well as we would like but we “get” that part.

But I’m concerned that, in our desire to be “nice,” not to offend, we’ve eliminated from the definition love’s role as “tough love,” destroying an important balance. We need a candor about ourselves we may share with one another that calls us to be all we can be, too.

It’s the love a parent has for a child, sometimes uttered during a spanking, in the words, “This probably hurts me more than it does you but I’m doing this because I love you. Some day you’ll realize that.” And if the discipline is administered well, lovingly and not as an abusive expression of parental anger, large numbers of children, then grown, will realize it was for their own good and will be thankful.

As we who populate what’s come to be called the “Sandwich Generation” are learning all too well, it also may be the love that confronts an elder with their limitations, the love needed to midwife the surrender of the car keys and drivers license, the familiar surroundings, in favor of a greater level of health and/or day-to-day support.

One wise observer has referred to the process of aging as one of “relinquishment.” I like that term! But the Lord protect those of us who have to administer it. Seldom is it kindly received. I’ll not repeat the term my late father-in-law used in his response to the decision his daughter had to make in that regard. At least it was some comfort when we compared notes with others with elder parents that they, pretty much to a person, had experienced the same kind of thing. But “loving” is not necessarily an adjective many of our parents would use to describe these acts.

In congregational life, efforts to set standards, to ask things of people, have been interpreted as unloving too. We fear doing so will drive people away. Be it the standard of the tithe or that one be at least baptized to receive communion, or (as we approach the wedding season) that one already be an active, currently practicing church member for a clergyperson to be willing to officiate at their wedding!

Or take the matter of church membership: Technically, regular worship and to be a “contributor of record,” someone whose giving is in a form that can be recorded and tracked, as opposed to cash in a collection plate are the twin requirements.

To be fully a member used to mean having been confirmed by a bishop, after preparation and study, or received by a bishop if from another branch of the Catholic faith, like Roman Catholic or Eastern Orthodox, again after preparation and study. That extra step, though still available, has not been the custom for many years. In general, that’s probably been a good thing because it’s been “visitor friendly” and we enjoy the active participation of many and are enriched by the diversity they’ve brought. But it’s also problematic at times, because, unaware of Anglican traditions and understandings, we sometimes get into squabbles we’d not have gotten into.

Congregations grapple with the tension between participation and excellence: What a given person may offer themselves to do on occasion may not be their particular gift. Should someone who, perhaps didn’t volunteer but who is better suited to the task, be recruited and chosen instead?

Would that be the loving act? How important is the match of talent with a given task? It’s complicated and different congregations decide in differing ways and may even change how they choose over time or in particular circumstances.

As we make ponder these things we confront the reality that many of the largest and fastest growing churches are those that ask a great deal of their members.

Most require and enforce the tithe. They set standards of excellence and intentionally deploy talent. People “try out” for responsibilities. Is it “loving” to set and enforce such standards? Many would say it is because the quality achieved instills the pride that comes from being all one can be, and increases the appeal of the faith practiced. Adherents feel they’re part of a “can do” organization, on the march, getting things done, “to the greater glory of God,” they’d say.

So when I got to the Gospel I was grateful for its balance, its reference to the importance of pruning for growth and its reminder it takes us, together, to be the tree. And that, separate from the trunk, we’re not all that much.

I was taken by a comment by a Unitarian lay person in an article in my home town newspaper about the growing number of people rejecting religion but declaring their affinity for spirituality: “I think (people) don’t realize that a spirituality that you practice only in your own living room may not be very robust when you encounter the challenges of life. If you don’t have some sort of spiritual community around you, the opportunity to share others’ ideas and test yours, you miss an important part of what spirituality really is.”

We’ve all heard, in one form or another, “I believe. I just don’t go to church.” And we’ve all heard most of the reasons cited, all the way from some fight the person got into with some other member, some parish direction of which they didn’t approve, some clergyperson they didn’t like, something for which they didn’t receive the appreciation they believe they deserved. And the expectation seems to be “So, understand. And drop it. Leave me alone.” And, mostly, we do. Because we don’t want an argument, or to lose a friendship. It’s not worth challenging.

But is it loving? Are there ways to answer that are gentle, kind, yet truth telling? Maybe not in that moment because, if you’re like me, you’re somewhat on the defensive and likely to respond in a manner that would make it worse. But later. Through a personal witness. In a well thought out letter or e-mail. We write them on other subjects after all.

Because if someone were to tell us they were a sports fan and never attended or watched a game, we’d question that, wouldn’t we? Or an opera buff who had no interest in music? Or an expert on Russia because they could see it from their porch?

And what do all the rationalizations for non-participation have to do with the fact the branches cut off from the trunk are nothing. It wasn’t Maudie Frickert we bound ourselves to in baptism. It’s not Wally Dipstick we follow.

The truth is: without the community, that so-called “belief” exists in isolation, without challenge to its error or ignorance, and alone we get much less done than as part of a movement.

Much to ponder. May the Force be with us on the journey!

SERMON
at
Christ Church, Watertown, Connecticut
Easter III
April 26, 2009
by
The Rev. Stanley C. Kemmerer, AHC

Has someone ever said to you, “You look like you’ve just seen a ghost!” When people say that to us it isn’t because our expression is one of pleasure or joy. It’s probably because “You’re white as a sheet!” Our expression is probably one of alarm.

As, apparently, was the apostles’… We don’t imagine them saying, “Hey, guys, lookit. It’s Jesus!” Or, to Jesus, “Hey, Jesus! Que pasa?”

In a state of alarm and fright, they thought they were seeing a ghost. His appearance was unexpected. But he said, “Why are you so agitated, and why are these doubts arising in your hearts? Look at my hands and my feet; yes, it is I indeed. Touch me and see for yourselves; a ghost has no flesh and bones as you can see I have.” And as he said this he showed them his hands and feet.
But we’re not there yet: Their joy was so great that they still could not believe it, and they stood there dumbfounded; so he said to them, “Have you anything here to eat?” Visuals don’t seem to work; let’s try something else. “Got food?” And they offered him a piece of grilled fish, which he took and ate before their eyes. Now they get it: ghosts don’t eat. Ghosts don’t need to eat.

Now for the message. His valedictory. This is Luke’s account of Jesus’ last instructions to the apostles. Then he told them, “This is what I meant when I said, while I was still with you, that everything written about me in the Law of Moses, in the Prophets and in the Psalms, has to be fulfilled.” He then opened their minds to understand the scriptures, and he said to them, “So you see how it is written that the Christ would suffer and on the third day rise from the dead, and that, in his name, repentance for the forgiveness of sins would be preached to all the nations, beginning from Jerusalem (Where they now are.) You are witnesses to this.

He continues beyond this morning’s appointed reading…”And now I am sending down to you (I’m turning the work over to you.) what the Father has promised. Stay in the city then, until you are clothed with the power from on high.” (Which occurs, as they will come to see, at Pentecost.)

Jesus does not always come to us when we expect, nor does He always come to us in the way we expect. And we often react in fear. And we often are dumbfounded.

What is amazing (and heartening) to me is how certain modern apostles, like Jesus’ “come through.” Look at your journey:

At the end of 2007 the Parish of Christ Church experienced something of a crucifixion as many who had worshipped here and formed what there was then of a community, left this space.

Over the past almost sixteen months you have experienced something of a resurrection. In the beginning of last year you came nowhere near to filling the choir stalls. But you were joined by others who learned of this resurrection, of your hope and enthusiasm. They were attracted to your fellowship, Mary and I among them. Now, these choir stalls can’t hold you, and you increasingly fill the nave.

Jesus has never been absent from us in our resurrection, as he never was absent from the apostles after his resurrection. We are given to understand he will come to us in a new way, as he did to them in a new way, in this morning’s Gospel lesson.

I began my ministry in a diocese and under bishops who believed where ministry was going on measurable results were to be expected. Diocesan mission funds were viewed as “seed money,” like today’s venture capital. Congregations set goals and lay/clergy teams conducted visitations to measure performance against those goals, much as accreditation teams do in educational institutions. I served on some of those teams and my parish was visited and evaluated by them. I formed the practice early on of setting goals and measuring progress toward them, mine and others’.

It had been awhile since I’d done that, so I did the exercise this last week. I was amazed at what I found! My notes covered two typed, single space pages! Our numbers are steadily growing. We continue to see new faces pretty much on a weekly basis. The formerly untrained are being trained and assuming responsibilities. We’ve had our first baptism. Three weddings are scheduled. Choirs are increasingly part of our worship and one of our own is planned. We have a plan for child care. We have a working stove. A sound system and web presence are on the way. And the list goes on.

With the help of the Leadership Group we’ve embarked on a project of getting to know one another better: How we got to Christ Church, what our respective desired levels of involvement are, what we do or did for a living, what we enjoy doing with such spare time as we have, what talents we have, all with the aim of at once spreading our work more broadly and offering more opportunities to enjoy the fellowship we share. The calls I’ve made have produced information that has amazed and astounded me as I’ve filled in the blanks talking with those of you I thought I knew, convincing me we’ve only scratched the surface of what we can be and we’re already a lot!

There are plenty of same old/same old tiny congregations, little “clubs,” hanging on by a thread, where one wonders why they’re still around, what they’ve done for Jesus lately. Christ Church is not one of them. In the business world it might be viewed as an attratctive start-up, a good candidate for a round of financing.

Jesus’ appearance to the apostles came as he was preparing them for his ascension and theirs. His to his Father in heaven; theirs to their mission to spread the gospel beyond Jerusalem to the world at large.

We have had our crucifixion and resurrection. Before long we shall have a much clearer picture of our mission and the framework through which we may be called to carry it out. As we look toward our ascension, let our mindset not be whether but how we shall accomplish it!