On The Table

"WARNING: THIS CHANGES EVERYTHING!" - a sermon for the annual meeting of Christ Church Cathedral

2012-01-22T12:53:00.000-08:00

Preached by the Very Rev. Michael Kinman at Christ Church Cathedral on Sunday, January 22, 2012

The annual meeting of the 193rd year of Christ Church Cathedral is now called to order.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, AMEN.

WARNING!

You can’t turn around today without seeing a warning label. If it can possibly have an effect that is going to bother someone, you can bet somebody has stuck a warning label on it.

Some of them are obvious. The pack of cigarettes that says: Warning, may cause cancer. Or even on your McDonald’s coffee – Warning: The contents of this container are extremely hot.

And then there are those that really make you scratch your head:

Take the bottle of Nytol sleeping pills that says “Warning: May cause drowsiness.” Really?

Or what about the cardboard sunshield that keeps the sun off the dashboard of your parked car that says “Warning: Do not drive with sunshield in place.”

And then there’s my personal favorite, the tag on the curling iron that says, “Warning: for external use only.”

We are told to beware of everything from peanut M&Ms to Happy Fun Ball. It seems like only the most innocuous thing could get away without having a warning label on it.

And maybe that’s the problem. Because the one place you can come and be free from warning labels … is the church. Look around the church and there is not a warning label to be found. By the world’s litigious logic, you would think that there is nothing about this place, nothing about this community that could possibly upset or harm or even change anything. And maybe that’s why it’s easy for us to think that the church is a place where we are supposed to be comfortable, where nothing is supposed to upset us and where nothing is supposed to change. Even the word we use to describe this space – sanctuary – speaks that message.

But that’s not the church of Jesus Christ. That’s not the beloved community of discipleship we hear about in this morning’s Gospel. That is not the beloved community of discipleship at Christ Church Cathedral.

If anyone ever should have had a warning label on him, it was Jesus. Jesus, walking along that shore of the Sea of Galilee should have been wearing a great big sandwich board that said “Warning: I will change everything.” Because that’s what Jesus did … and that’s what Jesus does.

It only took one sentence from Jesus to change everything for Peter and Andrew: “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.” One sentence and everything changed. And immediately they left their nets and followed him. Same with James and John. A word. A phrase. A sentence. Follow me. And they left everything and everyone behind.

If we knew what we were doing, we would put big signs on our front doors, stickers on every Bible and prayer book and a big ol’ neon sign on the reredos.

Warning: This Changes Everything.

But you don’t need me to tell you this. We have seen it. We have seen what can happen when individuals and faith communities let the Gospel take root in their lives.

It changes everything.

Paul Farmer was just another undergrad at Duke in March 1980 when Salvadoran Archbishop Oscar Romero was assassinated. He went to a small prayer vigil on campus and Jesus changed everything. Because that night for the first time he realized that following Jesus meant siding with the poor, speaking out on behalf of the poor, even ending poverty itself.

And so when Paul went to Haiti years later while studying infectious diseases at Harvard and saw the incredible poverty there, he knew as a follower of Jesus he could not just let things stay the same. He could not just settle into private practice or academia and make a good living for himself. If he was to follow Jesus, things had to change. He had to promote the radical notion that there should be one excellent standard of health care for all people ... not one standard for the wealthy and a lesser standard for the poor. And so he began an organization called Partners in Health, and over the past 25 years he has revolutionized the public health care systems in Haiti, Peru, Russia, Lesotho, Rwanda and Malawi.

Paul Farmer knows the Gospel should come with a warning label:

Warning: This Changes Everything.

And Paul is not alone. Over the past year and a half we have met and been inspired by the life and work of Becca Stevens in Nashville. Now if anyone would have had a right to abandon the church and abandon her faith, you’d think it would have been Becca. Her father was killed by a drunk driver when she was a young child and then she was sexually abused by the senior warden of the church where her father had been the priest.

But Becca knew that Jesus heals everything and Jesus changes everything. And so she took that experience and followed Jesus. She noticed that Jesus spent his time with prostitutes – loving them and healing them. So she spent time with prostitutes … and learned that they had stories of abuse not too different from her own. She discovered, as she says, “there’s a thin line between priest and prostitute.”

Jesus said “follow me,” and Becca followed him. She has founded Magdalene and Thistle Farms and dedicated her life to bringing love and healing to women who have survived lives of abuse, prostitution and drug addiction. And her congregation, St. Augustine’s in Nashville, has walked together with her in becoming a community of deep prayer, humble service, and overflowing joy.

Becca Stevens and the people of St. Augustine’s know the Gospel should come with a warning label:

Warning: This Changes Everything.

And we know it, too. We know it because it is our history as Christ Church Cathedral. We know it from Montgomery Schuyler alienating friends and parishioners by visiting both Union and Confederate soldiers in the hospital because he knew following Jesus meant loving everyone, not just those you agree with.

We know it from this Cathedral’s courageous solidarity with people living with AIDS in the early 1980s, welcoming people into our community when other churches wouldn’t even bury their bodies.

And we know it from this past year together. I imagine that any notion we had that the church is a place where we are supposed to be comfortable, where nothing is supposed to upset us and where nothing is supposed to change has disappeared after this last year. 2011 saw enough change at Christ Church Cathedral for five years in most congregations.

When you go upstairs you’ll find on the tables a list of all the new things that happened in the past year. And I hope you’ll take a good, long look at them so you can really get a sense for how much we have done and how much has happened and how much God’s Spirit has been moving in this place and in this community. But even if we just hit the highlights, it is astounding how much change there has been.

In 2011, we changed our Sunday service schedule and began the Liturgy of the Word for Children. We paid off more than $1.4 million in debt, instituted a new ministry structure, and hosted a major art exhibit. We began partnerships with the Bridge, Nkope Health Clinic in Malawi and became a Winter Outreach shelter. We finished the first round of Back to Basics classes and started a discipleship group for people to support each other in lives of prayer, worship, learning, serving and giving. We closed the Cathedral bookstore and ended the tradition of the Flower Festival Eucharist and street fair. We began a renewal of our liturgical ministries with the establishment of the Guild of Vergers, and have been the catalyst for bringing Becca’s vision of extravagant love and healing for women who have survived lives of prostitution and drug abuse to our city in the birth of Magdalene St. Louis.

When we go upstairs, we will hear from six people who have been part of some of these new and revitalized ministries at Christ Church Cathedral. They will each speak briefly not so much about the nuts and bolts of what is happening but about their experience of following Jesus through these new expressions of our life together.

Now not everyone agrees with all the change … and that’s OK. That’s to be expected. Some of this change has been wonderful and some has been painful. And some of the change has been different things to different people. But every piece of it has been the result of faithful people working together, straining to hear Jesus’ call of “Follow me” and asking “what does it look like for us to follow Jesus TOGETHER.” And what we are learning is what we already knew … that it means things are going to change.

What we are learning is that Jesus changes everything.

And so there has been change. And there will continue to be change. And thank God.

When we go upstairs we will also hear from our treasurer, Kris Reppert. And Kris will do what she does best and that is speak the truth. And at the risk of stealing her thunder, I will tell you that there are two big truths that Kris will speak. The first is that we cannot continue on the road we have been going down financially. And the second is we are all in this together.

Last month, Chapter passed a budget that, if income stays the same, will require nearly $75,000 we had set aside from the Pope Bequest for new program and staff to be used instead to balance an already lean budget and just maintain current staffing and services. Our hope was never to have to use Pope bequest money to balance the budget … partly because we wanted to use that gift for new missions and ministries, but partly because it is a repeating of the robbing Peter to pay Paul history that unfortunately has become an all too familiar part of our life together these past decades.

The budget passed by the slimmest of margins, that’s how conflicted our Chapter was about this. But one thing we were united in is that things must change. We must continue to embrace God’s mission and grow but we also cannot let this just be another case of kicking the financial can down the road.

And so last Thursday night, Chapter met and we had a wonderful, Spirit-filled conversation about the year to come. And Chapter identified two areas that need immediate and ongoing attention if we are not going to be repeating the insanity of doing the same thing over and over again and expecting a different result. And as I close, I want to share that conversation with you … and invite you to think and pray about how we can all be part of it together.

At the top of every Chapter agenda since I have arrived here, we have printed the mission statement of the Church that is in our prayer book. It reads: “The mission of the church is to restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ.” It comes straight from Second Corinthians when Paul tells the church that we are ambassadors of Christ and the mission Christ gives us is the mission of reconciliation, of bringing God’s people together..

Beloved, that is the work before us. And that is the call your Chapter has identified for us to share.

The first task group that Chapter formed was one called fundraising. Sounds ordinary enough, right. It’s something that will be distinct from the discipleship emphasis of stewardship and the budget and management functions of finance and look at how we can get income from outside this community. But really, what that is really about is reconciliation, about bringing God’s people together. Because if we are to raise support from outside this congregation, that’s what we need to do. We need to go out into the world and spread the word about and build investment in this Cathedral from the surrounding community. We must continue to demonstrate that Christ Church Cathedral is a place where the Spirit of God is alive and show that we are a Cathedral that brings God’s people together for prayer and worship, for service and giving. We must continue to demonstrate that Christ Church Cathedral is a catalyst and hub of spirit, culture and service for St. Louis and the region. We must show that this Cathedral is a heart of this city that the people of St. Louis must come together and enthusiastically and joyfully support.

The second task group that Chapter formed will look at ways WE can continue to come together as a community. How we can communicate better with one another. How we can realize that the mission and maintenance of this Cathedral are not just the responsibility of the few but the opportunity of the many. How we can embrace shared responsibility, shared opportunity and shared leadership. How we can pray and play, study and serve, worship and give. In short, how we can follow Jesus … together.

If you are looking for a church home that is easy and calm, where there is no conflict because there is no change and where you’re sure not to be challenged or upset … I think you know by now you’re in the wrong place. Because that’s not the church we are.

Who are we?

Warning.

We are the church of Paul Farmer and Becca Stevens, the church of Oscar Romero and Montgomery Schuyler.

*But more than that, WARNING - we are the church of Kris Reppert, who has spent more hours than anyone can count helping us chart a sound financial course for this Cathedral’s future.

*WARNING - We are the church of Becket Clark, who turned a fundraiser for his band into a food-raiser for the Saturday morning breakfast.

*WARNING – We are the church of Jim Kimmey, St. Louis’s own version of Paul Farmer, who lives his faith by dedicating his life to working for excellent health care for all.

*WARNING - We are the church of Ronnie Smith, John Kilgore and Chip Helms, who saw a vision of a church filled with iconic windows into the heart of God, and a vision of the city of St. Louis coming inside our doors to experience is, and with a mighty team made it happen all around us.

*WARNING - We are the church of Deborah Nelson Linck and Alice Stanley, whose vision of Black History as ALL of our history is changing the way we see ourselves as a community and the way this community of St. Louis sees us.

*WARNING - We are church of Robert Kamkwalala, who has brought us a vision of meeting and serving Christ halfway around the world in Nkope, Malawi and WARNING we are the church of Susan Adams, Mark Sluss, Tim Hamilton, Michael Reed and Orrin Dieckmeyer, who last Tuesday night turned this Cathedral into a shelter from the storm in our first night of Winter Outreach.

*WARNING – We are the church of Carolyn Herman, Miriam Jorgenson, Olivia Smith and Deb Holmes, who took their concerns about our need to more fully incorporate children into the life of this Cathedral and instead of just complaining in the parking lot, engaged leadership in respectful honest, conversation that is leading us into a deeper look at what it means to be a fully inclusive community.

*WARNING - We are the church of Mike Kyzer, Miriam Jenkins, Roy Garcia, Mary Seager, Susan Adams, Jane and Patty Mayfield, Fred Peterson, Penny James, Ronnie Smith and Alex Weymann, who have formed our first discipleship group to support and hold one another accountable to lives of following Jesus through regular prayer, worship, study, service and giving.

WARNING - We are the church of too many names to mention. We are the church who has heard and is still straining to hear Christ’s call to follow him. We are the church that knows and welcomes the change that following Christ invites us into.

So if this is you are new to Christ Church Cathedral, know you have come to an amazing place. But have no illusions. We are the church that is following Jesus.

And Warning. This changes everything.

Vicar's Address to the 2012 Annual Meeting

2012-01-22T11:22:00.000-08:00

The Rev’d Canon Amy Chambers Cortright
Annual Meeting – Vicar’s Address
1/22/12
Good Afternoon!

The Dean has shared a lot of really, really good news with you about where we have been this year and where we are heading in 2012 and beyond. It is truly an exciting time in the life of Christ Church Cathedral.

As the Vicar of our congregation, I am tasked with the nuts and bolts of congregational life, with oversight of our common life, specifically in the areas of Inreach, Outreach, Worship and Education.

As I mentioned in my address at the Annual Meeting last year, when I arrived at the Cathedral, nearly a year and a half ago, the first thing I looked for was a list of ministries and chairs – but I couldn’t find even one. I knew that we needed to spend some intentional time getting organized – and establishing a clear picture of what was happening here, when, - and by whom -- following the why, of course -- the critical work of Chapter.

It was quite evident that some structural work was necessary. This past year has been spent capturing each ministry, assessing status, identifying leadership and categorizing. “The Chart” as it has been fondly named, is a work in progress. It is a great start – “first generation” so to speak.

My goal for this morning is to leave you with a clear understanding of how this new structure works. The six ministry areas of Christ Church Cathedral are: Inreach, Outreach, Communications and Evangelism (one), Education, Worship and Administration. Each and every ministry in this place falls into one of these categories. Some ministries may fall into multiple categories, but for the purposes of organization, I have given each one a “home” on the chart.

For each ministry area, two Chapter liaisons are assigned and act as go-betweens for the individual ministries - and Chapter. The Chapter liaisons do not chair any ministry areas and may or may not serve on any of the ministries in his or her area. As Vicar, I oversee the ministry areas of Inreach, Outreach, Worship and Education. As Dean, Mike oversees Communications and Evangelism and Administration.

One week before Chapter meetings, liaisons send an e-mail to the Contacts of each ministry in their area asking if Chapter involvement is desired or required in any way. In this way, each and every ministry has monthly contact with Chapter.
With our new structure, two persons are required to serve as “Contacts” for each ministry with very few exceptions (which are noted). In this way, responsibility is shared and we know that at least two people are willing to “claim” and live out each ministry. Sustainability is very important in our work and all too often we suffer the classic church syndromes of burnout, ownership and resentment – and in some cases, more than one or all of them at the same time. Ministry is to be for us, though sacrificial, life-giving and joyful.

In the spirit of clarity and sustainability, some ministries that have been traditionally linked at the Cathedral are now separate so that the work of one group is more focused and manageable.

If you are the head (one of two “Contacts”) for a ministry at the Cathedral, you should be notified about your new Chapter liaison (assignments will be made after the elections of this meeting) - and you should be receiving a monthly e-mail asking if your ministry has anything to report or anything upon which Chapter must decide). Please be in touch with me if that is not happening. Copies of the Ministry Structure may be found at your tables – please take one if you are interested. I encourage each of you to take a look at the two enlarged ministry charts on the wall in this room and in front of the elevators. Thank you so much everyone who filled out the time and talent portion of the stewardship form -- for those of you who have not done so, please do take a look and consider where you might use you gifts for ministry in this community. I encourage everyone to look these ministries over -- does something intrigue you? Is there something listed that you didn't know about?

I also encourage you, in the coming months, to watch for continuing liturgical renewal at the Cathedral. At specifically appointed periods during the year, each liturgical ministry, beginning with our brand new Guild of Vergers will receive special attention including recruitment and training. We are especially excited about weaving more and more of our younger members into these rolls.

I would like to extend my gratitude to all of you, to Dean Mike Kinman and Chapter; to the clergy and lay staff of Christ Church Cathedral and especially to those who have stepped down from leadership positions this past year. If you are here, please stand.

A round of applause!

Grace and peace to you. Please know that I hold each and every one of you in prayer as we being another year working together in Jesus’s name. Thank you.

2011 – A Year of Many Changes and New Things at Christ Church Cathedral

2012-01-22T11:07:00.000-08:00

Here's what was on the tables at the annual meeting on Sunday ... an accounting of many new things that happened and changes that occurred in the year past. We haven't been letting moss grow under our feet!

2011 – A Year of Many Changes and New Things at Christ Church Cathedral … Changed service times from 8, 9, & 11:15 to 8 & 10 … adopted new structure for Cathedral ministries … began restructuring of liturgical ministries with establishment and training of Guild of Vergers… called a Dean … began partnership with the Bridge Sunday Lunch Program … began partnership with Nkope Health Clinic in Malawi … hosted Icons in Transformation … completed first round of Back to Basics classes and began first Discipleship Group … called a new Dean … was catalyst for starting Magdalene St. Louis … closed the Cathedral bookstore … revamped financial structure for greater transparency and clearer authority for Chapter … began new tradition of Black History Month preacher … ended tradition of Flower Festival Eucharist and street fair … entered into partnership with Park Pacific and Missouri Botanical Garden to replant and care for Library Park … began One Metropolitan Square noonday prayer service … became Winter Outreach shelter site … began the Outreach Initiative to explore and affirm new outreach ministries … Dean and Chapter engaged in work on building shared leadership … hosted Sept. 11 remembrance service … began raising funds for Christmas greens in July so we can know what our budget is and more deeply observe Advent … started coffee hour after 10 am service … began Liturgy of the Word for children … established interior design committee to make decisions about interior design issues in Tuttle Building … cleaned up Nave and repainted first floor of BTM in preparation for icons exhibit … Getting People Started group began handing out newcomers bags … Tower bells restrung … Tower Bell Ringers group began … Tithed $120,000 from Pope Bequest locally and internationally … paid off more than $1.4 million in debt, including “burning the mortgage” on the White Fund Loan … Hosted Presiding Bishop Katharine Jefferts Schori … Hosted new Bishop of Lui, Stephen Dokolo and his wife, Lillian … began partnership hosting Humanitri meetings … began Sunday intraCathedral field trips for Sunday School … and probably other things we’ve forgotten!

Why Christ Church Cathedral is banning polystyrene (aka: styrofoam)

2012-01-21T12:25:00.000-08:00

Last Thursday, the Cathedral Chapter voted unanimously to ban the use of all styrofoam products related to all food service on church property effective March 1, 2012. This was in response to a proposal brought to Chapter by Cathedral member Barbi Click, who writes this explanation of why we have taken this important step. Many thanks, Barbi!

Why are we banning polystyrene (aka Styrofoam)? Because we are stewards of this creation, what we do…or don’t do…matters. God created an ideal world, complete with everything needed to sustain life and allow it to thrive. While polystyrene (aka Styrofoam) products are incredibly convenient and inexpensive in the short run, these are not conducive to the idea of sustaining or the thriving of life.

Polystyrene is made from petroleum. The production of one ton of the foam requires 685 US gallons of oil, emits 20,000 tons of CO2 and over 2000 tons of greenhouse gases. In the production process, benzene, a carcinogenic chemical, is used. Due to its presence, food in direct contact with the polystyrene packing can be affected. More than 20 cities in the United States have banned the use of expanded polystyrene for food packaging.

It does not biodegrade without a suitable solvent. In fact, it has the durability to remain intact for hundreds of years. This is important to know because people in the US alone throw away 25,000,000,000 styrofoam cups every year. Those cups that make it into the landfill, take up a lot of space, estimated at 30% of the space in landfills worldwide. Many end up in our sewer systems and waterways doing harm to marine life and wildlife by slowly starving to death animals that ingest it.
Due to the fact that polystyrene is expensive to recycle, few waste companies will do so. For those companies that will recycle Styrofoam, the requirements for those wishing to do so are cost and time prohibitive for most individuals and organizations.

It is with all of this in mind that Christ Church Cathedral Chapter decided to join other parishes within the Diocese to prohibit the use of polystyrene/Styrofoam for food service at all functions, public or private.

(This information comes from a variety of sources, including but not limited to the US Environmental Protection Agency, all-recycling-facts.com, and the Green Restaurant Association)

God is calling ALL OF US.

2012-01-16T15:06:00.001-08:00

In 1985 I went away to college,

it was my junior year, I had just completed my Associates Degree, from Jefferson College,

and I was headed to Southwest Missouri State University (now Missouri State University), in Springfield, Missouri.

My Dad drove me and my belongings to school, to help me move into my dorm room.

And after we got everything in place. A trip to the bookstore, and the grocery store, then he slipped me some money, got into the minivan and drove away.

I specifically remember thinking. Ok, now what?

My friends from high school were not moving down until 2 days later, and my room mate didn’t arrive until the day classes started.

Honestly it was the loneliest 2 days I had ever spent. I was away from my family,

and I was away from my constant companion, my twin brother Mike,

The person who had always been with me for 19 years.

I honestly went back to my dorm room.

Sat on my bed and just sat for about 15 minutes.

I decided that I would try to figure out where all my classes were for the following week.

So off I went on a self guided tour of the campus.

A few hours later I was heading back to my room, and was walking across the quad, in front of the student center, and I ran into a group of students from one of the Fraternities.

They invited me to hang out with them, so I figured why not!?

They also invited me to dinner with them. Which I did go to.

At this time I was not yet an Episcopalian, so didn’t think to look into the Episcopal Campus presence.

Eventually my friends arrived on campus and I began to plug into other activities.

But I did eventually join that fraternity and I made some very close lifelong friends.

Fast forward a few years, after I was graduated I was living in Columbia, Missouri.

I was invited to a wedding of one of my fraternity brothers.

And it was back in Springfield, and in this Episcopal church right off campus.

I had driven by it many times, in my years at SMS, but I never thought to stop in.

And I’ll be honest, the liturgy grabbed me.

I was captivated by the vestments, the language, the inclusiveness.

For once in my life I really really wanted to take communion.

I was not yet baptized yet either so I did not go up, but I went away thinking, I really want to do that.

I was living in Columbia, Missouri at the time, and I did what most people did when I returned.

I picked up the yellow pages. (There was no internet then kids!).

I found, Calvary Episcopal Church.

I called for service times, and attended the next Sunday service.

This would have probably been around the end of July, of 1988.

I attended for a few weeks, and then called up one of the Associate Rectors at the time.

And asked to meet with him. We started some baptism classes.

And in the meantime, I started to plug into the Canterbury Club there for the University of Missouri and Stephens College that met at Calvary.

I met some great friends.

Mike Kinman, Robin Kinman, and Heidi and Mike Clark to name a few.

A few weeks later August 31st, at the start of classes at Mizzou, I was baptized.

My sponsor? Was the entire Episcopal Campus Ministry group.

What amazed me is the community aspect of my baptism.

Everyone was participating and joyful at my becoming a member of the church.

And I was all so happy to be able to have communion and to share it with that group. It was a very memorable event for me.

Forming communities became important to me.

When I moved to Omaha, a year later, I sought out a few Episcopal churches, and eventually settled on St. Andrew’s.

And as we were close to the University of Nebraska Omaha,

and had a few students attending I approached our rector and asked, about starting a college, young adult group.

His response. “sounds good what are you going to do about it?”

A bit of Trivia: how many of you have seen the Jack Nicholson movie “About Schmidt”?

The priest who counsels Nicholson’s Character “Warren Schmidt” was my old rector Bob Kem.

But that’s a bit of a tangent.

What I didn’t know was at that time was that looking to create communities for students and young adults, became a pattern for me.

When I moved to Chicago in 1992, I sought out a church close to me and eventually got involved in the Vocare movement, which is a young adult, version of Happening or Cursillo.

The common denominator here was a sense of knowing where people were loneliest and stepping in to build community.

I did not seem to realize it but I had to be drawing on my own experience my first time away in college.

And how lonely I was those first two days.

A community sprang up and got me, and that made all the difference for me.

You see as someone who was always identified as “one of the twins”.

Having another identity to be a part of something else helped me, in my life.

And once I was involved in a faith community, something else happened.

You see I believe that the natural response we have to our baptism is to go out and to seek to serve in the world.

We look for where Christ calls us to work, to bring the good news to the world.

To build communities where all can receive a new identity and a new life, as a part of the body of Jesus, here and now.

The natural response of our baptism is to go and do diaconal work.

The Association of Episcopal Deacons has published a pamphlet entitled. Engaging the Diakonia of All Believers: and it in part says:

All Christians are called through the baptismal covenant to live out diakonia through what they do and how they live their daily life in the world.

This is the first and most fundamental expression of diakonia.

Organized expressions of diakonia occur at the congregational level, as well as through those who are set apart as ordained deacons.

Deacons are to model and lead, by inspiring, empowering, and engaging every baptized person in living out the diakonia of all believers in everyday life.

Deacons do not – cannot – “do” diakonia on behalf of the baptized, but they help to lead all people, including the ordained, into the servant ministry of all believers which is the essence of our baptismal covenant.

Too often we bring persons into our church through baptism, or confirmation and then we don’t do anything with them.

Our response should be. We have opportunities, HERE and HERE, and HERE!

To proclaim God’s presence in the world .

Through our words and through our actions. Now I’m not talking about some Pelagian heresy of salvation through works, but that by the belief that we are known as Christians by the fruit we bear.

And that is to care for the least.

When I was living in Chicago, I took an extension course of Education for Ministry from the Episcopal Seminary in Sewanee, and the last of the 4 year course of study we looked at Calls to ministry and our gifts.

And looking at what spoke and formed me in my life began to coalesce a call to the Diaconate.

And in reading from the prayerbook the rite for the ordination of a deacon, I found that during the examination, the part about deacons being called: “to serve all people, particularly the poor, the weak, the sick, and the lonely”

And it hit me. “THE LONELY” that’s what I had been doing all those years.

Trying to find for myself a way to fit and and trying to offer to a place where the church can intersect with the lonely in our communities, especially the young adult and the students , all where I lived, especially in Columbia, Omaha, and Chicago.

Now this is just my story. And it is a story of how I was called to the diaconate.

But not all callings are to the ordained ministry.

I sit on the Commission on Ministry and we tell seekers all the time, that the question we are answering is not “are you called to ministry”, because that answer is YES.

Everyone is called to some kind of ministry, we have to figure out what.

Many are called to specialized lay ministries.

Myrna Wacker is called to the altar guild,
Our choir members are called to give the gift of their voices of praise in voice and music.
Brother Franklin is called to a devotional life in monastic community. Some are called quietly to pray for others.
Some called to teach Sunday school.
Some to visit the sick and to take them the eucharist.
Some are called to tend to the gardens and flower beds around the cathedral. Some are called to acolyte,
some called to volunteer at Saturday Breakfast,
or to assist at the bridge on the Sunday that we serve lunch there.
Some feel called to explore the possibility of creating a Magdalene (Thistle farms) model outreach here in St. Louis.
All of us are called.
And all glorify god and exercise our baptismal covenant when we do these things.

When we do these things we are witnessing to the saving power of Christ.

Society looks at us and says “who are they? And why do they do these great things?”

The answer is we are compelled to.

If we truly take serious our baptismal vows, and if we truly believe the Gospel teachings we HAVE to.

There is opportunity all around us.

To live out your lives as Christians.
You just have to hold your breath and take that first step.

Step out of your comfort space and do it!

Because you know in trying you cannot fail!

Think about that! What could you accomplish if you knew you couldn’t fail!?

Or if you knew that you wouldn’t be ridiculed or thought less of for trying.

If you knew that in your trying you made Jesus smile?

That is our calling.

To be together in community, as the body of Christ, to tend to the least in our midst.

That’s what being a Christian is all about.

And how exciting is it to be doing it here in this space and this time?!?

I invite you to look back, see how God has been preparing you.

How has god been calling you to service?

What gift of yours does the church need?

Does the community need?

And how can we as a community help you discern and to accomplish this?

To help you live into and fulfill your baptismal vows?

That is why the church community exists, to equip and teach us how to live into God’s expectations.

How will you answer your call?

Reflections on Minstry: Birthday Parties at the Juvenile Detention Center

2012-01-16T12:55:00.000-08:00

Cindy, one of our newest friends at Christ Church Cathedral, shares this experience of helping out with one of the Cathedral's many ministries ... birthday parties at the juvenile detention center with Episcopal City Mission.

On Jan 6, I attended the birthday party at the juvenile center, and I just wanted to communicate how much I enjoyed my experience. I am new to St Louis, and I heard of the program at a Sunday service. It caught my ear. I came from a family in which birthday's were recognized and it was a day of feeling very special. I thought of the bday kids in the center who were feeling very low. Maybe some came from a strong home, but I really doubt it. I figured that most were not feeling very special.

My boyfriend and I arrived at the center and was warmly greeted by Dannie. He even stood outside waiting for people to arrive. What a pleasant group of people that had gathered. Dannie stated that he had been doing this program for 10 yrs. He certainly will be rewarded for his effort.

We were told that in the City of St Louis center that we really were not allowed to mingle, sit, and talk with the kids. As we met the kids, the kids and adults just stared at one another. The kid's clothes were color coded. The oldest in red, seems a bit aloof. The younger kids in blue giggled and seemed excited. As the kids shared their treat basket, you could see more smiles and everyone relaxing. I was actually shocked to see how most kids were quiet and attentive to their Bingo Cards. With delight, they would shout out "Bingo", and sport big smiles came when they selected their prize.....and even multiple quiet thanks were whispered to me as they reached into the gift basket. A sad thing that I witnessed; a kid shouted Bingo and seemed very excited. It turns out that he didn't really have one and got no prize. He quit playing thereafter. I am sure that that is how he handles most failures in his life. Other kids had the same let down, and yet, tried again. There were only 3 girls, and one had a birthday. After she shyly listened to us sing "Happy Birthday", she received a big bag of goodies, and squealed at something that she saw inside. In that moment, I knew that she must have felt special.

As we left, we all walked out together to our cars. I felt safe the entire night. I slept well that night, remembering the smiles and joyful energy, and knew that we had done something good that night.

Sincerely, Cindy

If you're interested in find out more or getting involved in our birthday parties at the juvenile detention center, contact Dannie Franklin at dannie.franklin (at) att.net.

If you're interested in learning more about Episcopal City Mission, the Episcopal Diocese of Missouri's ministry with youth in detention, go to www.ecitymission.org.

"Taking the Fear out of Evangelism" -- a sermon on the Baptism of Our Lord.

2012-01-11T12:48:00.000-08:00

Preached by the Rev. John Good at Christ Church Cathedral on Sunday, January 8, 2012

Words that end in "ism" are often scary words: communism, nazism, fascism, racism…evangelism. But evangelism is scary only to Episcopalians, and members of a few other so-called "mainline" denominations, who believe that religion, like politics, should never be discussed in polite company. Actually, we may be more arrogant than scared. I used to have a cartoon taped to my office door that showed two ladies of a certain age and status saying to their priest, "We don't know why you're making such a fuss about evangelism. Everyone in this town who ought be an Episcopalian already is one." If there happen to be some who are not Episcopalians but ought to be, our approach to evangelizing them is similar to taking a beautiful, fully equipped, large aquarium down to the beach and wait for the fish to jump in.

Yet I still think we Episcopalians are more frightened by evangelism than arrogant about it. If you are anything like me, you are scared that someone will ask you to do the one on one, arm twisting persuasion that is the stereotype of evangelizing tactics. Most of us have encountered that stereotype in pushy people who ask us if we have been "saved." My late wife's quick answer to such people was, "Yes, 2000 years ago." But that usually did not satisfy them. They were not really interested in whether she had been saved. They were interested in whether she had been saved the "right way," which, of course, was the emotional way they had been saved. We Episcopalians are not so arrogant that we think we know the right way to be saved. Indeed, many of us have questions about what it means to be saved. So we aren't very motivated to persuade others to do it our way.

You will be glad to hear that most experts on evangelism do not endorse the pushy approach, not because it scares church members like you and me, but because it doesn't work very well. Less than two per cent of present church goers say they began to go to church because someone persuaded them that going to church was a good idea if they wanted to get saved. That isn't even as good as the aquarium by the seashore. Four per cent of current church members were first attracted to the church by the beauty of its buildings. Evangelist crusades, like Billy Graham’s, account for another four per cent. Six per cent come to church membership through satellite programs like Alcoholics Anonymous and Day Care Centers that use church buildings.

That leaves something like 84% of all other church goers. Researchers tell us they started attending because they were invited by a member of the church. Many of them were probably invited the way I was. My parents "invited" me to attend Presbyterian Sunday School when I was about 5 years old. Nonetheless, being invited by a friend who goes to church is the way almost all adult non-church goers become adult church goers. That fact may explain why the Episcopal Church has not grown for more than five decades, and in fact, has lost a million members during that time. You see, it is estimated that the typical Episcopalian invites a friend to church about once every thirty years. It'll take a while to make up that million member loss if we keep up that blistering pace.

On the other hand, our fear of evangelism should be calmed if we know that the only thing we need to do to contribute to evangelism is invite our friends to church. To make our role even less anxious, we don't need to invite all our friends; just those whom we think might find in the church peace to allay anxiety, strength to bear adversity, a place to act on their idealism, or a way to find meaning for their life, claim their identity, and affirm their worth. When we invite friends to church we turn the evangelizing process over to the congregation. It's worship, teaching, and fellowship present Jesus Christ in the power of the Holy Spirit in such ways that the guests we invite are often led to believe in him as Savior and follow him as Lord within the context of the church. In the Episcopal Church you don't have to believe before you can belong. From the early days of the church the Celtic Christians, led by St. Patrick, taught us that belonging leads to belief. So today we welcome all seekers to belong to the church without requiring them to believe what the church teaches, knowing that in time many of them will come to trust their lives to the God revealed by Jesus and proclaimed by the Church.

If evangelism starts with belonging to a congregation, the congregation needs to be a place that welcomes new folks and makes them feel comfortable within its fellowship. Our congregation needs to practice an extravagant hospitality to newcomers and visitors, believing that anybody who joins us for worship in this place has come seeking the love of God in one way or another. The only way they can tangibly feel God’s love is from the way the members greet them and care for them. So we do have another role in evangelism. Each of us is called to extend the hospitality of God to all newcomers and visitors to this church. That means greeting them warmly during the passing of the peace and after the service concludes. We need to make an effort to engage in conversation with anybody we don't know or see here regularly, beginning with the words, "I don't believe I have met you. I'm John (or Joanne, or Alice, or Ted, or Chuck or whatever your name is)." We can let the conversation proceed naturally from there, but we need to remember that our purpose in talking with these folks is to let them see the love of God in action.

You may have been wondering why I have devoted this sermon to a prosaic lecture on evangelism instead of trying to inspire you with a message based on the scriptures for today. Full disclosure: I am a member of the GPS team—the "Getting People Started" team—that the Chapter established to help make our congregation better at evangelism. My purpose today was to teach how each of us, individually, can help Christ Church Cathedral fulfill its calling as an evangelizing fellowship. As for the scripture, today's gospel tells how a split in the heavens, a descending dove, and a reassuring voice revealed to Jesus who he really was. That is what we call an "epiphany"—an unmistakable revelation of God. God wants this Cathedral and all congregations of the church to be epiphanies to the world, revealing God’s love for all people. Taking our part in the evangelizing process is one of the ways we help our congregation make that epiphany.

"Our Holy Names" -- A sermon for the Feast of the Holy Name

2012-01-01T09:56:00.000-08:00

Preached by the Very Rev. Mike Kinman at Christ Church Cathedral at 10 am on the Feast of the Holy Name, Sunday, January 1, 2012

“After eight days had passed, it was time to circumcise the child; and he was called Jesus, the name given by the angel before he was conceived in the womb.”

Some good news to start this New Year.

At about 11:30 Wednesday night, December 28, after a long pregnancy and labor, Anne and Perry Trolard’s child was born. A nine-pound boy.

When I got the news, I asked Anne “does he have a name?” And she said, “Not yet. We want to get to know him a little bit.”

Now some people might call that new parents being nervous and indecisive. But I think that shows an appreciation for what names are. Names are our parents’ dreams for us. They honor friends and ancestors. Parents choose names as they dream of what good of the past their new child will embody and what new things they hope this new child will become.

That was certainly true for Robin and me. First of all, let me tell you it is no easy task choosing a name when one of the choosers is an elementary school teacher. I can’t tell you how many names were taken off the table because of an association with a child in some past class. But choose we did. For our first child, after spending some time considering Jack, after my dad’s brother who was killed in World War II, we settled on Schroedter … my mother’s maiden name. For our second child, we chose Hayden planning on calling him Hays, in honor of one of the most dear and honorable people we knew, our former Bishop Hays Rockwell.

And of course each of them have taken those names and have shaped them, becoming their own person. And maybe someday someone will look over their new child, and dream of who he might be, and think of them.

So Anne and Perry took their time, got to know their son, and thought about what their dreams were for him.

Of all the ways each of us is different from the other, one thing we have in common is that, sometime after our birth, someone gave each of us a name that was a hope and a dream for us.

Just for a moment, find one person next to you and share what you know of the story of your name. Where does it come from? What does it mean? And if you don’t know either, share what it means to you. You might have to triple up in some cases but make sure nobody is sitting by themselves.

People take 2-3 minutes and share stories of names.

Names are powerful. Names are who we are and dreams of what we will become.

Today is the Feast of the Holy Name. Where eight days after his birth, Mary and Joseph took their child to have him circumcised … to mark that he was not an outsider but part of the family of faith. And something else happened … he was given a name. A name that represented the best of his ancestors. A name that was the hope and dream of who he would become. A name that was given not just by Mary and Joseph but by an angel who knew this child was indeed God incarnate.

"After eight days had passed, it was time to circumcise the child; and he was called Jesus.”

Jesus – the name given by the angel, God’s own messenger.

Jesus – also translated Yeshua or Joshua – the great ancestor who finally led the people out of the wilderness and into the promised land.

Jesus – which literally means “God is salvation”

Even though there are many different reasons why we come here this morning another thing we all have in common is when we come here, we are gathering as people of many names and many dreams in the name of one person. We are gathering in the name of Jesus.

And so, for just a few minutes, let’s look at what that means.

We gather in the name of Jesus. We gather in the name of the one whose name and whose life proclaims, “God is salvation.”

Every waking moment, we are so aware of what we dearly wish we could be saved from: Fear. Rejection. Loss. Loneliness. Hunger. Doubt. Uncertainty. Anger. Addiction. Debt. The list goes on and on and on. And every waking moment, we are sold a bill of goods that promises to save us but never truly delivers.

Mostly, we are sold the lie that spending and consuming can save us. The lie that there is no itch that cannot be scratched by just buying one more thing. But it is a lie. Because no matter how much we buy or consume, there is still a hole left at the end of the day. Even though whatever anesthetic we choose might dull the pain for a while, the fear, rejection, loss, doubt, uncertainty … all of it is still there.

And so we gather in Jesus name. We gather in the name of the one whose very name proclaims something different. Proclaims that God is salvation.

God is salvation. What saves us? The truth that there is a God who knows our truest name. A God who knows our best dreams and sees us as deeply beautiful. What saves us? The truth that there is a God whose knowledge of us is so deep and whose love for us is so boundless that there is no need for fear, no rejection that can matter, no loss that can ever be permanent.

Are you afraid? God is salvation.

Are you lonely? God is salvation.

Are you hungry? Are you angry or sad or imprisoned by addiction?

God is salvation.

It’s an amazing truth. But like most amazing truths, what wells up in us when we here it is the question of Mary at the annunciation: “But how can that be?”

Well, it can be because when we gather in the name of Jesus, we take on the name of Jesus. When we gather in the name of the one whose name proclaims that God is salvation, we become the bearers of that salvation – to each other and to the world.

When we gather in Jesus name, together we become Jesus, we become the Body of Christ. We become ambassadors and agents of salvation. And how do we do that? How does God do that through us? The same way the original Jesus did. One person at a time. By learning each other’s names. By loving and saving the world one life, one name at a time.

Did you ever notice that Jesus never healed huge groups of people. Every healing story in the Gospels is intensely personal. Jesus meets each person, gets to know them, learns their name – even the demons -- and loves them with a depth of love that cannot help but save them. And as the Body of Christ gathered in Jesus’ name, that is our gift as well.

It starts by doing what we just did this morning. It starts with sharing and learning a name. It starts with turning to the person next to us and saying, “This is who I am. Tell me who you are.”

Gathering in Jesus’ name is not about building huge programs that give a little bit of help to faceless, nameless crowds. Who we are and what we are about … gathering in Jesus’ name … is intensely personal. It is meeting one another – in here and out there -- meeting one another and getting to know one another and loving each other in ways specifically tailored to each person with a depth of love that cannot help but save us from whatever pain we need saving from.

It means sharing our dreams and sharing our wounds with one another. It means not only risking loving but risking letting ourselves be loved. It means not just talking to and spending time with the people we know and like but reaching out to the stranger and letting them reach out to us. It means sharing and learning a name. Finding a stranger and saying, “This is who I am. Tell me who you are.” And discovering together that God is using each for the other in the mystical and wondrous dance of love and salvation.

Anne and Perry did settle on a name for their son. Lorne Lucas Trolard. I’ll leave it to them to tell you why they chose it and what this name means. But mostly, I’ll leave it to all of us to, as Lorne grows, get to know him better and let him get to know us. To say to him “Lorne, this is who I am, show me who you are.” To look for ways we can let God love him through us and let God love us through him.

To proclaim together that God is salvation and to be that salvation for one another. To live with him as fellow members of the Body of Christ, the gathering of the Holy Name of Jesus. AMEN.

"When YHWH Met Sally"-- A sermon for Christmas Eve

2011-12-24T22:48:00.000-08:00

Preached by the Very Rev. Mike Kinman at Christ Church Cathedral at Midnight Mass on Christmas Eve, 2011.

Silent night, holy night
Son of God, love's pure light
Radiant beams from Thy holy face
With the dawn of redeeming grace
Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth
Jesus, Lord, at Thy birth

Silent night. Holy night.

There is something about the silence of night that brings out the deepest questions of our heart. Questions that are so deep, that make us so vulnerable that we are afraid to speak them not only to each other but even to ourselves. Afraid to speak them because we are afraid of what the answers might be.

And of all the questions that come out to tug at our hearts at night, perhaps none is stronger or deeper than this one:

Am I loved?

Am I loved?

We try to pretend the question isn’t there for lots of reasons.

We pretend it isn’t there because when we acknowledge it, we’re so aware of how much we need someone other than ourselves, and that scares us.

We pretend it isn’t there because everyone else looks like they have it so together and we don’t want to be the weird, insecure person who is asking questions like “Am I loved?”

We pretend it isn’t there because secretly, in places that don’t come out in the light of day, we’re afraid the answer might be … no.

And really, can you blame us? It’s so hard for us to trust that the answer to “Am I loved?” is yes. We keep asking it because so much in life teaches us not to trust the answer is yes.

For every experience of unconditional love we have, we have countless others that tempt us not to trust it, that tempt us to trust instead that love is transactional and conditional. That if we don’t hide certain pieces of ourselves, love will be taken away or it will never come. That we’re not worthy of love as who we really are, and that we trust in love at our own peril.

And so from the earliest of ages we learn to cope and suppress. To pretend it’s all OK and silently guard and hide those pieces of ourselves that we are sure are unlovable. To treasure those moments of unconditional love but never to truly trust them. And to try not to think about it too much.

And yet in the silence of the night that question comes. The question that draws us together tonight. And it is in the silence of the night that we get our answer. And that is why we are here on this silent night. This holy night.

Am I loved?

The Bible is a lot of things. It was written over 1500 years by at least 40 authors, including kings, scholars, philosophers, fishermen, poets, statesmen, historians and doctors. It is history, poetry, law, prophecy, letters and a whole bunch of really freaky stuff. But if you have to say the Bible is one thing, it’s a love story. An epic love story. It is the story of millennia of God’s people struggling with the question “Am I loved?” and of God trying desperately to convince us that the answer is … YES.

Like all love stories, God’s epic love affair with us is a story of passion and frustration. Of adoration, rejection, pursuit and reunion. God creates us out of love and loves us dearly and desperately. And from the moment of creation, all God has ever wants is for us to trust in that love. Trust in that love and be able to live extraordinary fearless lives because we are so secure that the answer to “Am I loved?” is Yes.

And yet deep inside, a voice us says, “Yeah … right.”

Deep inside, we never seem to get it. Read the Old Testament. The Hebrew scriptures are one, long, crazy story of this. One long crazy story of God’s passion for us and God’s frustration with us not being able to trust in God’s love. One long, crazy story of adoration, rejection, pursuit and reunion … only to have us fall away again. Of God saying “please trust me, I love you.” And for just a moment of us believing it … only to have us fall away again because we couldn’t believe that God really meant it. We couldn’t believe that God’s love was really unconditional and really for us, that we were really that lovable. We couldn’t believe that we could truly trust in this love and not need anything else. Until one night, God had had enough. Until one night, one silent, holy night, God laid it all on the line and did something different.

More than 20 years ago, on Robin’s and my first date, we saw another great love story --- When Harry Met Sally. Billy Crystal and Meg Ryan. Two people who have each been burned by love and who are desperately in love with each other but are afraid to trust because they are afraid of being burned again. Afraid of hearing one more time the answer to “Am I loved?” is no. If we’re honest, it’s the story of all of us.

And finally, it all comes to a head in this one scene right at the end of the movie. Harry has been trying to reach out to Sally but she keeps pulling away and finally he’s had enough. It’s New Year’s Eve just minutes before midnight and Harry races through the streets of New York trying to reach the party where Sally is to tell her that he loves her before the clock strikes twelve.

And he gets there, running up the stairs and breathless, he gets there and he bares his soul and tells her he loves her, and still she resists – she just can’t bring herself to trust his love. And Harry is desperate. He loves her so much and he just can’t get her to trust. “I love you,” he says. And you can just feel the passion as he pleads with her: “Doesn’t what I said mean anything to you?”

And you can hear the pain in Sally’s voice, the pain of all the times she’s learned not to trust in love. You can just taste the pain when she says, “I’m sorry Harry. I know it’s New Year’s Eve, I know you’re feeling lonely, but you just can’t show up here, tell me you love me and expect that to make everything all right. It doesn’t work that way.”

“Well how does it work?” Harry says.

And Sally, almost in tears, says, “I don’t know but not this way.”

And then Harry says this:

“Well how about this way. I love that you get cold when it's seventy one degrees out, I love that it takes you an hour and a half to order a sandwich, I love that you get a little crinkle above your nose when you're looking at me like I'm nuts, I love that after I spend a day with you I can still smell your perfume on my clothes and I love that you are the last person I want to talk to before I go to sleep at night. And it's not because I'm lonely, and it's not because it's New Years Eve. I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of the life to start as soon as possible.”

That’s Christmas.

That’s God’s answer to us this silent, holy night. God knows we’re crazy. God knows we’re far from perfect. God knows we’re quirky and messy and that we make a million mistakes before breakfast. God knows we get cold when it’s seventy one degrees out and it takes us an hour and a half to order a sandwich. God loves us in spite of it and God loves us because of it. There is nothing that can change the answer to “Am I loved?” to anything but YES.

And so Christmas is God saying “enough!” I’m tired of leaving messages on your answering machine hoping you’ll return my calls. I’m tired of trying to reach you through prophets and sages, judges and kings. I’m not messing around any more. I’m coming down there to share life with you … in all its messiness and in all its holy imperfection. I’m going to become one of you. Emmanuel. God with you. That’s how much I love you.

Christmas is “When YHWH Met Sally” and we are all Meg Ryan. Christmas is God grabbing us and looking deep into our eyes and saying, “I came here tonight because when you realize you want to spend the rest of your life with somebody, you want the rest of your life to begin as soon as possible.”

Beloved, this silent night, the question doesn’t have to haunt us anymore. This holy night, the Son of God, love’s pure light, invites us, pleads with us to trust that he loves us more deeply than we can possibly imagine. To trust in that love and be able to start tonight an extraordinary rest of our lives together … secure that the answer to “Am I loved?” is Yes.

"Greatest Expectations" ... a sermon for the Fourth Sunday of Advent

2011-12-18T11:30:00.000-08:00

Preached by the Very Rev. Mike Kinman at Christ Church Cathedral on Sunday, December 18, 2011

Expectations. Advent is about expectations. About expecting the coming of Christ. About preparing a mansion in us for Christ’s coming. But I want to talk about a different kind of expectation. One we have all known and felt.

Think back to when you were 15, 16, 17 years old. For some of us that will be pretty easy … for some of us that doesn’t mean thinking back at all … but for others of us it’s a little more of a challenge. But if it is “back” for you … think back. In fact don’t just think back but feel back. Feel back to what it felt like to be in high school. Remember that child. Feel that teenager inside you.

Who had expectations of you? (shout it out)

What were their expectations of you?

What was it like to consider not meeting those expectations? Doing something different? Being something different?

The world runs on expectations. Societies – big and small – set expectations and demand conformance. And we are valued and affirmed and even celebrated by how well we conform. And when we don’t meet expectations, we are not only not valued and not affirmed, we are to some degree cast out. So there are pretty strong incentives out there to meet expectations?

We’ve all felt that, right? We all still feel that, right?

In the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin’s name was Mary.

From what we know, we can pretty well guess that Mary was 15, 16, 17 years old. Think Jasmine Cooper or Maya Jackson.

Mary had her whole life in front of her … and it was just starting to get interesting. Betrothal, engagement, was a time of excitement and anticipation but also trepidation. Because it was also a time of great expectation. Much would be expected of her – and at stake was not just her future but her family’s honor.

Mary probably thought of herself as nothing special. And really, as far as the world was concerned, that’s exactly what she was … nothing special. Just another faceless young woman in the crowd. She was expected to be good and obedient. And very soon to be a good wife and mother.

Whether or not she was content with those expectations, we can’t know. But one thing we can imagine is that she probably didn’t want to be different. Different was bad. Different was the widow, the poor unmarried woman, the prostitute. Different was being poor, unclean, pitied and alone. Different was scary.

So Mary’s life was pretty well set. There was the path of expectation, and anything that strayed too far from it was too scary to consider.

And then God enters the picture. And God did what God does. God changes everything.

God said, “I’m about to do something different. Something that will confound people’s expectations of me. Something that will change the world forever. And I’m asking you to be a part of it. And that’s not just about nodding your head and rubber stamping a form and saying, ‘OK by me.’ I am asking you to put some real skin in the game.”

“You see,” God says. “I can’t do this alone. I need a partner. But if you’re going to partner with me you are going to have to take all those expectations that people have of you – and you are going to have them matter less than this … you are going to have to have them matter less than me.”

“You’re going to have to be willing to be different. To be poor, unclean, pitied and even alone.

These are amazing, exciting and absolutely terrifying words. They must have been incredibly hard to hear. And yet Mary says, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord. Let it be with me according to your word.” Mary says, with her lips and with her life. “Yes.”

How? How did Mary say yes so completely?

Because God’s invitation to Mary was not all God said through Gabriel. Before Gabriel asked Mary to be God’s partner in changing everything, Gabriel said three things. Three things that Mary had to hear and trust before she took this incredible leap of faith.

1) God says you are very good.
2) God is with you.

And because of that…

3) You don’t need to be afraid.

The world tells us that our goodness depends on how well we meet its expectations. But what does Gabriel say to Mary … “Greetings favored one…. You have found favor with God!” Or as Eugene Peterson paraphrases in his translation “The Message,” “You are beautiful with God’s beauty, beautiful inside and out.” It doesn’t matter what the world says. God looks at you and says you are very, very good, beautiful with God’s beauty inside and out.

The world tells us that our acceptance depends on how well we meet their expectations, and that if we don’t meet them well enough we will be cast off and alone. But what does Gabriel say to Mary … the Lord is with you. It doesn’t matter if everyone else leaves you, God says, you will never be alone because I am with you.

And because of these things, Gabriel is able to tell Mary, “Fear not. Do not be afraid.” Because there is no reason to fear. You don’t need to fear the world because the world has no power over you.

Mary, God says, you don’t need to fear those voices and looks in the world telling you that you are no good … because I’m telling you that you are very good. Mary, God says, you don’t need to fear the world rejecting you and casting you out alone … because I am with you now and I will be with you always.

The whole key to the annunciation isn’t that Mary was better or stronger or more holy than any of us. It’s that she was able to hear and trust when Gabriel told her that God said she was very good. She was able to hear and trust when Gabriel told her that God is with her now and always. And because she was able to hear and trust those things, she was able to hear and trust Gabriel when he said, Mary, you don’t need to be afraid.

And because she didn’t need to be afraid, she was free. Free to be a person of incredible power – God’s power. Free to be God’s partner in doing something that would change the world forever. Free to be a part of something that was so wild and nutty that Gabriel had to reassure her that “nothing will be impossible with God.”

A long time ago, I had a Roman Catholic friend named Bridget who loved her church dearly but was deeply frustrated and pained by the role of women in it. One day she said to me – you know what model is held up for women in my church? Mary. A virgin mother. That’s my model. That’s who I’m supposed to be like. How in the world am I supposed to live up to that?

I wish I could talk with Bridget again today. Because I think Mary isn’t just the standard for women, she’s the standard for all of us. And not to be a virgin mother, but to listen and trust and to be a fearless person of God’s power.

Because that’s the invitation to all of us. To listen. To trust. And to be fearless people of God’s power. Because God is speaking to us.

God is saying: “Greetings, favored one.” Greetings Emily and Celeste and Tom and Debbie and all of you, you are worthy and very, very good as who you are. Greetings, Franklin and Jeanne and Jim and Urlene, you are beautiful with God’s beauty inside and out.

God is saying, “I am with you.” “I have always been with you. I am with you now. I will be with you always.” People of Christ Church Cathedral, God says to us “I am with you.”

And if we can listen and trust those things, we can listen and believe when God says to us, “You don’t need to be afraid.” Because that is deeply true. Because God says we are good and beautiful with God’s beauty. And God says God will always be with us. There is nothing we ever need to fear.

But that’s not the end of God’s invitation to us. God is inviting us to be fearless people of God’s power today.

Because just as God said to Mary two thousand years, ago, God is saying to us today, “I’m about to do something different. Something that will confound people’s expectations of me. Something that will change the world forever. And I’m asking you to be a part of it. To let Christ be born in you and through you. To live out my mission in the world – to reconcile all people to God and each other in Christ. To be, as Paul says, ‘ambassadors of Christ’ entrusted with the mission of reconciliation, of healing all that is broken in a deeply broken world.”

And just like Mary, God is saying to me and to you, “I can’t do this alone. I need partners. But if you’re going to partner with me you are going to have to take all those expectations that people have of you – and you are going to have them matter less than this … you are going to have to have them matter less than me.”

“You’re going to have to be willing to be different. To be poor, unclean, pitied and even alone.”

Just like Mary, God is saying to us, “People of Christ Church Cathedral, this not just about nodding your head and rubber stamping a form and saying, ‘OK by me.’ I’m asking you to put some real skin in the game. I’m asking you to not just to give a little bit to this mission but to give yourselves to this mission. To be fearless people of my power. Fearless lovers with all you have and all you are. Because nothing extraordinary ever got done with people going half-way.”

What extraordinary, seemingly impossible thing God is asking us to partner with God in? How is God calling us to confound the world’s expectations in a way that helps God’s love break through in a new way? How is God inviting us not just to say “OK” to this work of changing our church and healing the world, but together, as one church, to embrace it with our lives? Together to be fearless people of God’s power. To be bold and confident and fearless agents of God’s love healing in this place and out there in the world.

Mary is our model because Mary heard and trusted but also because Mary didn’t just stay on the sidelines and cheer, but she got in the game in the fullest way imaginable. And so can we. We can do this together, because like Mary, we know that we are good and beautiful with God’s beauty. Like Mary, we know that God is with us and we will never be alone. Like Mary, we know we need never be afraid. And because of that like Mary, we are free to be fearless ambassadors for Christ, fearless people of God’s power for the church and in the world.

God, here are we, the servants of the Lord. Let it be with us according to your word. AMEN.

Putting God's Mission First -- our best future at Christ Church Cathedral

2011-12-17T11:47:00.000-08:00

This past Thursday, your Cathedral Chapter met for more than four hours to wrestle with the budget for 2012. There were many figures discussed that involve how Christ Church Cathedral can continue to exist ... but none of that is as important as WHY we exist.

Since we began journey together more than two and a half years ago, I have held up the mission statement for the church that is in our prayer book. "The mission of the church is to restore all people to unity with God and each other in Christ." (BCP, p. 855). It is a mission of reconciliation and it is the definition Paul gives us in 2 Corinthians 5:16-20.

From now on, therefore, we regard no one from a human point of view; even though we once knew Christ from a human point of view, we know him no longer in that way. So if anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation: everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new! All this is from God, who reconciled us to himself through Christ, and has given us the ministry of reconciliation; that is, in Christ God was reconciling the world to himself, not counting their trespasses against them, and entrusting the message of reconciliation to us. So we are ambassadors for Christ, since God is making his appeal through us; we entreat you on behalf of Christ, be reconciled to God.

Reconciliation -- breaking down the barriers, making real God's reconciling love in a hurting and broken world -- this is God's mission. The Church as an institution is only worth existing as we put God's mission first. The opportunity for the church today is to prune away things that aren't helpful to God's mission -- or are no longer appropriate to God's mission in this new day -- and put our energies and gifts on living that mission today as powerfully as possible.

Thursday night, Chapter used this scriptural text from 2 Corinthians and a sermon by Bishop Ian Douglas of Connecticut (click here to read it ... it's definitely worth the time!) to frame our discussion as part of our evening devotions. One of the questions we wrestled with is "What are the things that are essential for us if we are to 'put God's mission first.'"

The Chapter came up with the following list:
*Joy
*Gratitude
*Trust in God and each other
*Putting God first
*Communication
*Transparency
*Love and care for the community as a whole
*A place to worship
*A way to worship together
*Prayer
*Honesty
*Accountability
*Forgiveness
*A commitment to serve and give of ourselves
*Diversity
*The Bible
*A common understanding of what it means to live together in Christ as a baptized community.

We talked about which of these things can cost money ... and there is many of them that can. We also realized that if this is what faithfulness to God's mission looks like, we can be faithful no matter what our budget is ... but particularly that commitment to give of ourselves will determine not just the resources we have available for God's mission but the depth of our own commitment to incarnate God's mission in the world ... to be the Body of Christ.

We talked about how if we were just starting out planting a church, this would be a very different conversation. We would feel much freer to create new structures and embrace God's mission in new ways. But we are far from a church plant. We have huge old, beautiful buildings and even bigger old, beautiful traditions -- all of which can be assets and barriers to God's mission. We talked about sacred cows and the difference between an icon -- something that helps us encounter God and God encounter us -- and an idol -- something we worship in the place of God ... and the importance of looking at all we have and making sure we are embracing icons and destroying idols.

We talked about how many of us just want to come to church as a sanctuary from the difficulties of the world -- difficulties that include uncomfortable change, and the last thing we want to hear about when we're here is how we need to change even more. I noted that God always loves us as we are but never leaves us as we are ... and so figuring out how to let God love us through the change we need is a key part of the leadership task we share as Chapter and clergy.

Throughout the whole evening, again and again we came back to God's mission ... not just how we as a Chapter can live it more deeply but how we can lead the whole congregation (and the diocese and the city) into God's mission of reconciliation. As we struggled with using endowment monies to -- once again -- bail out our budget, I felt a consensus and a commitment emerge to no longer allow "business as usual" to be the rule of the day. That Clarence and Zua Pope have given us a gift of a bridge to tomorrow ... but if we use it to stay in yesterday we will have not only dishonored their legacy but will have missed a great opportunity God is giving us to be at the forefront of God's mission in the future.

I wish you all could have been at this Chapter meeting Thursday night (and all Chapter meetings are open!). I encourage you to come to Chapter meetings, which are on the third Thursday of each month at 6 pm. Talk with your Chapter members. Ask how you can help.

Most of all, look, listen, pray, worship, learn, serve give. Be a part of God's mission.

It's who we are. It's what we are about. It's the best that Christ Church Cathedral can be.

A few words from our treasurer...

2011-12-13T14:50:00.001-08:00

Here are CCC treasurer Kris Reppert's remarks to the congregation on Sunday, December 11.

Good morning. I’m Kris Reppert. I am your Treasurer. I’m here to report on the status of the 2012 budget.

In August, the Finance Committee outlined the process Chapter would follow for next year’s budget and we also met with the Stewardship team to set a target for pledges – something that had not bee done in the past. Our target for pledges is $445,000 and represents 89% of our employee Compensation and Benefits. (this info has been in WW and the service program for several weeks and if you’re interested in further details of how we came up with that number, please come see me).

With the stewardship campaign coming to a close, and having received input for expenses from Chapter members and various committees, the Finance Committee met on two evenings last week to compile a budget for Chapter’s consideration at their next meeting, Thursday December 15.

Our pledge total as of last Monday was $253,000. We believe there’s another $97,000 still to come in based on people who have pledged in the past, but have not yet pledged this year. That’s $350,000 almost $100,000 short of our goal of $445k. We will be drawing $347,000 from our various investments and there’s another $117,000 from non-pledge and miscellaneous income, for a working total for revenue of $814,000.

Our total requested for expenses was $913,000 – a deficit of $99,000 – keeping in mind that assumes we get the additional $97k in pledges we think will come in.

Using that scenario as option 1, we went to work on option two, then option 3. For option 2 we made some tough choices and reduced our expenses where we thought we could – and reduced the deficit in half to $49,000. For option 3, we made some severe reductions – I would say draconian reductions - and that scenario has a surplus of $2,300.

In addition, I made a promise to the Finance Committee, the Chapter, all of you and myself that we would not slip into bad practices and that we would not rob from ourselves to cover cash flow problems this year, but would draw on our $100,000 line of credit for any cash flow shortfalls this year. The line of credit – which was zero till the end of May – now sits at $77,000.

So here’s the situation: we owe $77,000 for 2011 and our full budget request for 2012 sits at a $99,000 deficit. For Chapter members sitting in the congregation this morning, fair warning – this is what we will be dealing with on Thursday. Interestingly enough, the $99,000 deficit is almost exactly the difference between the goal for pledges of $445,000 and the likely amount of $350,000. We will probably need to draw on the fraction of the Pope money we had set aside to do great things related to program here at the Cathedral and once again, the dead will have bailed out the living. This is no one’s preference.

So – I know times are tough – I was out of work for 2.5 years. But I am asking you: if you haven’t pledged, please pledge, pledge something. If you have pledged, please prayerfully reconsider your commitment. There are pledge forms in today’s service bulletin. But if you commit, we will really need you to fulfill that commitment – we will have made decisions based on your commitments and will be counting on you.

There is so much to love about this place. I mean, even if this art isn’t your cup of tea, isn’t it the greatest thing that we’re hosting this event? Isn’t so cool to have LBB events here – from Jonathan Franzen to Michael Oher? Isn’t our music program the best? It’s been called a gem by local reviewers. Isn’t the Back to Basics program terrific and intellectually challenging? Isn’t our Saturday Breakfast program the best little energizer bunny? It just keeps going and going and going. Isn’t this all worth supporting and helping even to grow? Please consider it.

Thank you.

"Roof for the Inn" -- a Cathedral Christmas Challenge

2011-12-13T07:56:00.000-08:00

“And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.” – Luke 2:7

Wandering through the desert, Mary and Joseph wanted only one thing that night … a roof over their heads so they could give birth to their son, the child named Jesus.

We remember that night with crèches and carols. But what if this year, we did more than just commemorate? What if this Christmas, we gave our sisters and brothers in the desert what Mary and Joseph needed that night … a roof over their heads so they could meet the Son of God?

Earlier this month, Bishop Stephen Dokolo from our companion diocese of Lui in the Republic of South Sudan led us in worship and thanked us for the prayers and support that have helped sustain his people through a trying and exciting period of reconstruction after decades of civil war.

Then he said that Fraser Cathedral … our sister Cathedral in Lui … has for more than a decade had a roof that leaks profusely during the rainy season and traps the heat in during the heat of the dry season (I've been there ... he wasn't kidding!). He asked for our help again. He asked Mary and Joseph’s question: Can you give us shelter?

Has there ever been a better opportunity for us to embrace the spirit of Christmas than this?

So this year, let’s make two gifts of thanksgiving this Christmas. One gift in this envelope to support the mission and ministry of Christ Church Cathedral … and one to go toward putting a new roof on Fraser Cathedral in Lui. You can give to CCC by sending a check made out to Christ Church Cathedral and sending it to 1210 Locust Street, St. Louis, MO. You can give to Lui by going to www.diocesemo.org/donate and clicking on the CCC/Fraser Cathedral option.

It’s no secret (or it shouldn’t be) that we are having financial issues of our own. We’re running a deficit of more than $70,000 and are facing serious financial challenges for 2012 as we are still far behind our pledge goal. But Jesus teaches us that salvation lies not in focusing on ourselves but in trusting God and loving those who have the least. And especially at Christmas, Jesus calls us to rejoice in the joy of doing what he did … giving ourselves for the life of the world.

So please give generously. Let’s help turn Fraser Cathedral into an inn worthy of the birth of the Prince of Peace … and for his people to gather to praise him.

In Christ’s love,

The Very Rev. Michael D. Kinman

Dean

"I've Got Good News and I've Got Bad News" - a sermon for Advent II

2011-12-08T09:11:00.000-08:00

Preached by the Rev. John Good at Christ Church Cathedral on Sunday, December 4, 2011

Isaiah has good news to tell: "‘Comfort, oh comfort my people,’ says your God. ‘Speak softly and tenderly to Jerusalem, but also make it very clear that she has served her sentence, that her sin is taken care of—forgiven! She’s been punished enough and more than enough, and now it’s over and done with.’" If you listened carefully to this translation of today’s first lesson,1 you realize that Isaiah’s news is good news only in the context of bad news. The bad news is that Israel had been punished for her sin, even over punished.

Let me remind you of why Israel had been punished. The whole nation had turned away from trusting the God who had saved them from slavery in Egypt. They had become fat and happy in the land flowing with milk and honey. They put their trust in the fertility gods of the people they conquered, because that seemed more appropriate for a people who were now farmers instead of nomads. As they turned away from trusting the God who had delivered them, their leaders forgot the basic moral code God had taught them. They did not remember that God had commanded them not to exploit the weakest among them to feather the nests of the strong. So God had good reason to punish Israel. And that is what he did. He abandoned the nation to the ravages of the Babylonian armies. The invaders laid waste to Israel's crops and their capital city with its Temple, before carting a bunch of them off into exile.

Before all of that happened, God had warned them that it would. He had sent prophet after prophet to expose the ruling elite’s faithlessness and immorality. The prophets condemned their conceit and injustice, their arrogance and lack of compassion. In other words, before God called upon Isaiah to tell his people the good news, he had called upon Isaiah and many other prophets to tell them the bad news about themselves. The prophets warned them of their gloomy prospects if their leaders did not repent.

What we learn from all this is that we cannot truly hear the good news until we have heard the bad news, because good news is always, in some way, a response to the bad news in our lives.

So when the first words of the gospel according to Mark are, "The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God," our first question has to be, "What is the bad news to which the good news of Jesus responds?" Mark answers our question immediately by telling us about the career of John the Baptist before he ever mentions Jesus again. In Eugene Peterson's translation, Mark says that John "appeared in the wild, preaching a baptism of life-change that leads to forgiveness of sins. People thronged to him from Judea and Jerusalem and, as they confessed their sins, were baptized by him in the Jordan River into a changed life." John did preach the good news that Jesus was coming with the power of the Holy Spirit to make God's kingdom a worldly reality. But before people could appreciate that good news, John said, they had to acknowledge their need to change their lives so that they could welcome the changes the good news would make possible. Confessing the bad news would make them ready for the good news that Jesus was bringing.

Like most people, we don't like to hear bad news so we do our best to avoid it. During Advent, we tend to focus more on the coming of Jesus than on our need to change our lives. So the joy of Christmas does not last all year because we do not first acknowledge the bad news. We do not confess how the various powers of evil have corrupted us and the world we live in. The failure to admit our powerlessness over evil prevents us from truly appreciating how really good the Good News is. Until we can confess to ourselves and to God how much we need God's forgiveness in our sinfulness, God's love in our loneliness, God's compassion in our needfulness, God's strength in our weakness, and God's healing in our sickness, we will never value the gifts that Jesus has brought to our lives. If we cannot confront the bad news and confess our need for God's remedies, Christmas day will pass without any change in our lives or any lasting joy in our hearts.

On the other hand, if we will honestly take time during this Advent season to undertake a searching self examination of our fears, our regrets, our resentments, our isolation, our sickness, and our sins, we will truly be able to hear the Good News that responds to the bad news in our lives. We will receive the comfort that Isaiah proclaimed to his people that our sins are forgiven, and, as John the Baptist promised, we will rekindle our love for God and renew our enthusiasm for the Good News. That is all it takes to make Christmas last all year.

+

1
The translation of all scriptural passages in this sermon come from Eugene Peterson, The Message.

"The Shepherd King and The Reunion" -- a sermon for Christ The King Sunday

2011-11-20T12:36:00.000-08:00

Preached by the Very Rev. Mike Kinman at Christ Church Cathedral on Sunday, November 20, 2011

(The whole congregation sings together)

You better watch out
You better not cry
Better not pout
I'm telling you why
Santa Claus is coming to town
He's making a list
And checking it twice;
Gonna find out who's naughty and nice
Santa Claus is coming to town
He sees you when you're sleeping
He knows when you're awake
He knows if you've been bad or good
So be good for goodness sake!
O! You better watch out!
You better not cry
Better not pout
I'm telling you why
Santa Claus is coming to town

No, I’m not Buddy the Elf.

But I do have a question for you. Do you know what an interpretive lens is? It’s an academic term. It’s a filter through which you look at something like the way sunglasses filter out some of the spectrum of light and help us see things differently.

We have lots of interpretive lenses. Many of them come from how we grew up. And they shape how we view everything.

Well I’ve come to believe that the primary interpretive lens through which we look at today’s Gospel reading from Matthew … is Santa Claus is Coming to Town. Jesus is making a list and checking it twice. Gonna find out who’s naughty and nice. Stockings full of good stuff for the good people and flaming heaps of coal for the bad.

Now not only do I think ”you’d better watch out” isn’t a helpful lens for the Gospel – and by the way neither is its cousin, – a bumper sticker I’ve seen that says “Jesus is coming … look busy.” Not only are those not helpful interpretive lenses, they aren’t accurate ones.

And so we’re going to spend a few minutes this morning looking more closely at this scripture through different lenses. We’re going to take off the naughty and nice lenses of Santa Claus is Coming to Town and put on some different lenses. We’re going to look more deeply at what the reading itself says but also look at it through the lens of the rest of Matthew’s Gospel … and see if we can see Jesus – and ourselves in a different light.

If we use the rest of Matthew’s Gospel as a lens, four distinct truths emerge about Jesus and about ourselves.

The first truth is this … Jesus longs for reunion.

Today is Christ the King Sunday, the end of the liturgical year. And Matthew talks about Jesus coming as a king. But he comes as a really strange kind of king. A really different kind of king.

Jesus is a shepherd king.

Now here is our first chance to put on the lens the rest of the Gospel of Matthew, because this isn’t the first time Matthew has used shepherd as an image for Jesus and God. So we know what he is talking about when he describes Jesus as a shepherd king.

In Matthew 18 God and Jesus are described as shepherd in the parable of the lost sheep. Jesus is the shepherd who leaves the flock of 99 and searches far and wide for the one sheep that is lost.

That’s who Jesus is. Jesus is a shepherd king. A King who seeks us out and who longs for us to seek him out A King who adores us, who longs to hold us close. A king who dreams of reunion.

Jesus is the shepherd king who breaks down every barrier that separates us from him and from each other. He is the shepherd that leaves the 99 and goes after the one … and isn’t that an interesting lens through which to view the Occupy movement. However we divide ourselves up. 99%, 1%. Jesus seeks after the one and seeks to bring them to himself and to bring them back to the whole … to reconcile and recreate the 100%.

Jesus longs for reunion.

Second truth … this reunion happens out there.

The reunion with Christ doesn’t happen in places that are safe and warm. It happens in places that are vulnerable and dangerous. It happens with the poorest of the poor. We meet Christ and Christ meets us in those who have the least.

Why the poor? When I was thinking about preaching, I started to try to come up with a logical explanation to explain why Jesus is present in the poor, but really that’s not the point. Frankly, all we need to know is that we meet Jesus in the poor because that’s where Jesus says we meet him. And he oughta know.

But it is more than that. Because we have also felt that. We know it to be true. We have all had those experiences where we encounter someone in the depths of vulnerability and we allow ourselves to be vulnerable to them. Where everything is stripped away and all that is left is the intensely real. We have all had those moments and it is like time stops. There is a depth to those moments. A deep presence to those moments. A deep reality and meaning and even joy to those moments and that is the presence of Christ.

So number one, Jesus longs for reunion.

Number two, the reunion with Jesus doesn’t happen in places that are safe and warm but out there in places of poverty and danger and vulnerability.

Now here’s the third truth.

The reunion Jesus longs for is intimate and personal.

Listen to the verbs that Jesus uses here.

Feed. Clothe. Give drink. Welcome, Tend. Visit.

These are intimate verbs. Think of when you have done these things. Think of when you have fed someone … not just plopped a plate of food in front of someone but fed someone spoon to mouth. Remember when you have given someone a cup to their lips. When you have literally helped dress someone. When you have visited someone in prison and looked at them through the translucent divider. Or when you have tended someone in their hospital bed or sick bed, held their hand, wiped their brow.

These are intimate, personal acts … and that is where we meet Christ and where Christ meets us.

Lets look again at what this Gospel reading actually says! Jesus says:

Truly I tell you, just as you did it to ONE of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.'

To ONE of the least of these. This is not about big programs that will save the world. The reunion with Christ happens not with “the poor” as a faceless, nameless class, but in intimate, personal actions. It comes in doing what Mother Teresa called “small things with great love.”

Jesus longs for reunion. And it is a reunion that happens not where it is safe and warm but where it is cold and dangerous and vulnerable. And the reunion happens … we meet Christ and we let Christ meet us when do small things with great love. When we meet in places of personal intimacy. When we learn each other’s names and let each other into our lives.

And that leads to the final truth.

This reunion is eternal joy.

When we meet Christ, when the reunion happens, we “inherit the kingdom prepared for us from the beginning of the world.” We enter into Christ, we experience and even become a depth of joy that without the reunion we can scarcely imagine.

It is a joy and a life that is eternal. Now we tend to think eternal in terms of a length of clock time. Like, “Man, when that Kinman preaches, it’s just eternal!” But that’s not the primary meaning of the word here. Eternal is much more about depth of life and experience.

Dan Handschy, who is the rector of Church of the Advent in Crestwood like to talk about this in this way. Imaging biting into the ripest, freshest, juiciest peach you can imagine. Just imagine it. You can feel the tartness in the corners of your mouth and you can just feel the juice spilling out of your mouth and dribbling down your chin. You experience that peach with your whole body. That scratches the surface of what an eternal experience of eating fruit is like.

Now think of that as your life. Think of that in terms of this reunion with Christ. Eternal joy.

This isn’t the first time Jesus has used that word in Matthew, either. And here we’re going back to putting on the lenses of the rest of the Gospel If you go back to the story of the rich young man who comes to Jesus and asks what must he do to inherit what? Inherit ETERNAL LIFE.

This guy has obeyed all the commandments and he thinks he’s in great shape. And do you remember what Jesus says?

Jesus says ONE THING you lack. ONE THING. That you sell all you have, give it to the poor and come and follow me. That’s not two things or three things … that is ONE THING. And that one thing is totally directing his life toward the poor. That is the same as following Jesus because it is living as Jesus lived … totally directing his life toward those who were the most vulnerable and were most on the margins.

And do you remember what the young man did? That’s right .. he went away. But he didn’t just go away. How did he go away. That’s right … he went away sorrowful. Deeply sorrowful. Eternally sorrowful.

That’s what’s happening here. When we embrace the reunion with Christ, when we direct our whole selves toward Christ in the poorest and most vulnerable, we enter into eternal joy. But when we turn from Christ and turn into ourselves, we separate ourselves from the greatest love and joy there is. And we enter into a different type of eternity. Eternal separation. Eternal sorrow. We cut ourselves off from our very inheritance. The greatest gift that we could ever receive. The gift of joy and Christ that is our destiny.

Jesus call to us is not another verse of Santa Claus is coming to town. There is no “you’d better watch out.” Because it’s not about earning points by being naughty or nice. It’s about a Christ who longs for reunion, who seeks us out and longs for us to seek him. Who tells us that we find him when we turn not inward to ourselves but outward giving ourselves as he did, for the life of a wounded world. It’s about a Christ who tells us to meet him in imitating him – doing small things with great love. Learning that his name isn’t just Jesus but William and Annabeth and Angel and Steve.

It’s about a choice Christ gives us to embrace a reunion of eternal amazing joy or retreat into fearful life of self-focus that only brings pain.

Jesus is the shepherd king. And he’s searching for us and longing for us to search for him. And praise God, he has even told us where we can find him – not in the places of safety and warmth but in the places and with the people – one by one -- of vulnerability and danger and poverty.

And really all that’s left for us is the choice. All that’s left for us … is to come to the party.

"Saints I have known: A Passion to Serve" - A sermon for All Saints Sunday

2011-11-11T09:02:00.000-08:00

Preached by the Rev. John Good at 8 am at Christ Church Cathedral on Sunday, Nov. 6, 2011

We all have had occasion, at one time or another, to characterize a person we admire as a "saint." For forty years in the ordained ministry it has been my privilege to know a number of them in every congregation I have served. Today is "All Saints' Sunday," and a good time to remember at least a few of them.

I think of Bruce and Cindy, from St. Barnabas Episcopal Church in Florissant, who went from one parishioner's house to another during a winter storm, collecting food and warm clothing for an inner city church that had broadcast on television a request for help in supplying those things to the poor during that weather emergency.

I remember Harvey, from the same congregation, who risked his job by telling his boss that he would not implement the racist policies that his boss had established for hiring new personnel in his department at McDonnel-Douglas.

I remember Cliff, an African-American dentist and member of Grace Episcopal Church in Pine Bluff, Arkansas, who worked tirelessly with both whites and blacks in that racially divided city to bridge the gulf between them, and was maligned by people of both races for his efforts.

I remember Bill, from St. Peter's Episcopal Church in Gallipolis, Ohio, who organized teams from five different congregations in that little town to prepare and serve a good dinner once a month for the hungry in that town. It was always scheduled for the last Sunday in the month to help those who had run out of food stamps.

I think of the sisters-in-law, Gloria and Susie, at The Episcopal Church of Our Savior in Mechanicsburg, Ohio, whose average Sunday attendance was only about 30. But they did not think their church was too small to start "God's Creation Youth Group" for all of the children between the ages of 8 and 13 in that tiny town.

I think of John and Diane, from a suburban Episcopal church in the Detroit area, who, more than ten years after they started, still lead Bible Study and worship once a week for those incarcerated at the Macomb County Jail

I think of Michelle who volunteered to start and run St. Alban's contribution to the Food of Faith program in Bay City, Michigan. The program expected our parish to fix and serve a dinner for 75 to 100 hungry persons about 3 or 4 times a year. Michelle volunteered us once a month plus an extra one on Christmas day. Before three years had gone by over seventy members of that congregation had participated in that ministry.

None of these saints is likely to be recognized as a saint beyond their own congregations. None of them is likely to have a day designated on the calendar of the Church year to remember them. But they are remembered today, along with the legion of Christians from all generations, whom we honor on All Saints' Sunday.

What sets saints apart is their passion to make a difference for good in the lives of other people. They regard their membership in the Church as a calling vocation—to transmit the love of God in Christ through service to others. They would never be content just to go to church on Sunday and bask in the fellowship of their congregation. They want Jesus to use them as his mouth, his hands, and his feet to make his love tangibly known to those most in need of love.

The saints of our congregations do these things because they know they are blessed, as Jesus defined what it means to be blessed, in our Gospel for today.

They are blessed by the joy of doing something significant with their lives that is of ultimate importance to the world.

They are blessed by the joy of knowing themselves to be partners with God in establishing his reign of love where they live.

They are blessed by the joy of knowing they have spiritual gifts to give to others that are more precious than all the accumulated wealth of Warren Buffet and Bill Gates, combined.

These saints I have had the privilege to know would never have known these blessings, nor used them to make a difference in the lives of others, had they not been part of "the communion of saints"—that is, the Church. They learned in church that there is an alternative way of life that is not enslaved to the selfish pursuit of power, privilege, and possessions, which characterizes the quest of so many people in our world. They learned in church that seeking to be significant to others is more fulfilling than seeking to be a success on the world's terms. They learned in church to trust God, and follow where he leads, rather than trust the messages of our worldly media that lead us to worship things that cannot last.

The communities of faith that produced the saints I remembered in this sermon are still doing that. Saints are not found only in history books, they are found in every congregation of Christians that nurtures people to follow that alternative way of life. In other words, saints are found here, in this congregation, today. Take a look. They are all around you. They probably are you.

Dean's Stewardship Message for 2012

2011-10-26T11:50:00.000-07:00

Beloved,

I want you to try something … right now. (Like in school, read the instructions first.)

Either standing or sitting, curl up your body as tightly as you can —hunch over, fists closed, arms to chest. Then slowly release. Uncurl. Arms extended. Fingers extended. Back straight. Head up.

Do it slowly. Do it again – a little faster. And again. And again. What do you notice? What does that feel like? What does it feel like at each extreme?

This is the motion of liberation. Of casting off. This is what we are about.

Jesus says “Come to me, all you that are weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I will give you rest.” (Matthew 11:29-30) Following Jesus isn’t just taking on his yoke, but casting all else off.

So how do we do it? We give.

Giving is about freedom – our freedom. It’s about letting go of what we hold most dear and saying “Jesus, I love you more than these” (John 21:15-19). It is about letting go of lots of things whose hold on us burdens us. Letting go of time, grudges (for-giving), agendas and anxiety. But it is also most definitely about money. Because money is what our culture holds most dear. Too often, we make money the object of our greatest desire and let money be the source of our greatest fear.

Let it go. Give. And because we are human beings who need concrete markers of progress in things like liberation, this year we’re giving ourselves a road map.

Figure out what you gave last year as a percentage of your income. This year, we challenge each other to give at least 1% more of our income to Christ Church Cathedral.

For example, if you gave 5% of your income to the Cathedral this year, give at least 6% in 2012.

(Once again this year, you can make your pledge online ... just click here)

Let me be perfectly clear that my first passion is that you give more so that you can be more free … regardless of where you give it to. We do have a pledge target of $445,000 and that’s important because we all need to know what it takes to sustain this Cathedral in its current state, but meeting that is a distant second priority to this goal of our liberation from the fear and worry about having enough, and trust that with God there is always enough. We ask each other to give specifically to the Cathedral because we believe we can become a Cathedral that spreads that Gospel of liberation more deeply among ourselves and more broadly in the world.

Is 1% more a stretch? It’s meant to be. Call me. We can sit, talk and pray through it together. Because this is important. It’s important because Jesus wants us to be free. And we don’t just want to be freer someday, we want to be freer now.

In Christ’s love,

The Very Rev. Mike Kinman

Living among the Icons (Some teaching ideas for our young parishioners)

2011-10-26T11:02:00.000-07:00

Our own Deborah Nelson-Linck, longtime Cathedral parishioner and kindergarten teacher at Long Elementary School, has written a helpful guide for us to help our youngest parishioners live with the Icons in Transformation exhibit. Thanks, Debbie!

The Icon exhibit will be with us for a long time and we need to know how to live among the new works of art.

What is an icon?

An icon is a religious work of art, commonly a painting.

The icon is usually a flat panel painting of a holy being or object such as Jesus, Mary, saints, angels or the cross.

What are icons for?

Icons are for looking at. Many people stare at icons and it helps them to focus or center their thinking. It helps their prayers to be more focused and they are not distracted by things around them.

Some people just enjoy the beauty of the pictures.

Can we touch the icons?

When an artist creates a work, they like to show it to many people. If too many people touch what an artist has created, it changes. It’s like if you make something with clay and you’re very proud of it and you show it to your friends and family and everybody touches it. Some people will handle it carefully but others might be rough with it or some people might have a firm touch. Soon the clay changes shape and doesn’t look like it did at first.

So…...Icons are for looking at. A good way to look at any piece of art, your friends or an artist at the art museum or the art in the cathedral is first think of a good place to put your hands so you won’t be tempted to touch. You can put your hands at your side, behind your back or in your pockets. You can put your hands together, but use your eyes to touch the painting.

How can I get around the icons?

The best way around the icons is to walk. There are sooo many things to see, you don’t want to rush past. Touching can also be with your body, you don’t want to accidentally knock into any piece of art. Always, walk carefully around the icons.

Can I climb through the big icons or lean on them?

Again, the icons are for looking, enjoying their beauty and centering in prayer. Although some of the big icons might look fun to climb through, like on a playground, we don’t want to accidentally knock a piece over or hurt it so it doesn’t look like the artist wanted it to look.

How can we help care for the icons?

You can tell people about the icons, about how they are a gift the cathedral is sharing with St. Louis. You can keep them safe by not touching them and walking carefully around them and reminding others to do the same. The icons are a gift from the artist for us to share with anyone who visits the cathedral. It is our job to take care of them and return them to the artist the way she gave them to us so she can share them with others.

Activities

Bring in some play dough and make a bowl. Pass it around to the group. Assign some people a job when handling the bowl. You will be rough, you will be gentle, you will be firm etc. Talk about how the bowl looks when you have passed it all the way around the group. Help the group to understand that too many hands can change the art (bowl) so that it does not look like the artist wanted it to look.

Tell the children they are going to tour the icons. Talk about what they will do with their hands while they are on the tour. Leader, place your hands behind your back and show the group your choice for looking at the icons. Take a walk around several pieces; compliment those who are making good choices with their hands. Thank them for taking care of the art.

Stop at one piece of art, talk about what it looks like. How might that feel, without touching it? What did the artist use to make the icon? Stare at it, does it make you think anything or feel any special way? Does it look back at you? Etc.

"10,000 Hours, We are the 100% and God Wants All of Us." - A sermon for the 18th Sunday after Pentecost

2011-10-16T09:58:00.000-07:00

Preached by the Very Rev. Mike Kinman at 10 am at Christ Church Cathedral on Sunday, October 16, 2011

And Jesus said, “Give therefore to the emperor the things that are the emperor's, and to God the things that are God's.” When they heard this they were amazed and they left him and went away.

The Pharisees were amazed. And then they left him and went away.

We read the Gospel every Sunday. Many of us have done this our whole lives. We hear Jesus in little snippets and stories and they have become so familiar. There’s comfort in that. But when was the last time we were amazed by the Gospel. I mean open-mouth, head shaking, heart-stopping amazed? Because Matthew tells us that’s what happened here. The Pharisees were amazed. And then they left and went away. That’s how amazed they were … they just couldn’t take it, they had to get out of there. Well, I look around and we’re all still here and nobody has called any paramedics yet, so I’ve gotta believe the Pharisees are hearing something we’re missing. Something that would stop us in our tracks and rock our world. Something truly amazing.

What could it be?

The Pharisees are coming to Jesus trying to trap him with this question about taxes. If Jesus says taxes should be paid then it looks like he’s in with Rome and he loses his street cred as a prophet. If Jesus says taxes shouldn’t be paid, then he’s a criminal and they can have him arrested. They’re thinking Jesus is the one who is going to be amazed at their cleverness and go away.

But Jesus does the amazing here. And not just because he was clever enough to avoid the trap. Jesus takes a coin and uses it to say that whatever image is on something tells us who it belongs to. The coin has Caesar’s image on it so it belongs to Caesar. Let Caesar have his own. No big deal there. But Jesus doesn’t stop there.

Jesus said, “Give to Caesar the things that are Caesar’s and to God the things that are God’s.”

Well what is God’s? What bears God’s image? That’s what makes what Jesus says amazing. Because the answer is … us.

We are made in God’s image. We bear the image of God. And God will have God’s own. The implications of this are staggering. And if they don’t amaze us, then we are not paying close enough attention. What does it mean to give to God what is God’s? It means three things that can be summed up in one sentence:

God wants all of us.

First, God wants all of us.

A few years back, Malcolm Gladwell wrote a book called “Outliers,” which looks at what makes exceptionally successful people exceptionally successful. He found that, yes, there is a certain level of innate giftedness but even more than that it is about opportunity. And the most important opportunity is the opportunity to practice. And he tells this story about a boy named Billy.

Billy grew up in suburban Seattle in the late 1960s. Now every year, the Mother’s Club at Billy’s school did a rummage sale to raise money for something for the school. One year they decided to use the money to do something that was really weird for a middle school in 1968 … they used it to buy a computer terminal. What that meant is that at a time when most colleges didn’t have public computer terminals, Billy was able to do real-time programming as an eighth grader.

And he loved it. Billy lived in the computer room for hours and hours and even days and days. And so when the University of Washington was looking for people to work on some software in exchange for even more computer time, he jumped at it. At age 15, Billy was logging 20-30 hours of programming time a week, even sneaking out of his house in the middle of the night to take advantage of the 3 am to 6 am slack period when the computer at the university wasn’t in demand.

By now you may have guessed that Billy … is Bill Gates. And Gladwell’s point is not that Gates doesn’t have real talent but that what made him one of the world’s great masters of computer technology was not so much a superabundance of talent but this unique, ahead of his time opportunity to practice. Because here’s the thing: If you look at people across cultures who are world-class masters in something – anything – from figure skating to fiction writing, from being a master craftsman to being a master criminal , they invariably have one thing in common – they have at least 10,000 hours of practice. Ten thousand hours. That is the universal threshold for mastery.

10,000 hours. That’s 8 hours a day, seven days a week for nearly three and a half years without a break. That is giving your life to something. But if we are to become masters … at anything … that’s what research shows that it takes.

Give to God’s what is God’s.

10,000 hours. Giving our life to something. That’s what God wants. God wants all of us. God wants us to know God like Bill Gates knows computer code. God wants us to know God like Albert Pujols knows the spin on a split-fingered fastball. God wants us to know God like Pat Partridge knows the organ! And the only way we do that is to give our lives to God. Not just an hour a week or a little bit here and there. But 10,000 hours. Minimum. That means 10,000 hours of prayer at home and worship here. It means daily reading of the Bible. It means every month, every week, every day, giving ourselves to God in service of loving those most different from us and challenging to us. It means practicing giving of our money, of opening not just our hearts but our wallets and over and over and over again giving until we learn that money is not our master but just another way of giving glory to the God who gives us all.

Give to God what is God’s. And that is all of us. 10,000 hours. Minimum. And just ask Bill Gates, just ask Pat Partridge, there are no short cuts. God wants all of us.

But it doesn’t stop there. Because God doesn’t just want all of us. God wants all of us.

Our former Bishop, Hays Rockwell used to say, “The image of God is on every single person … only on some it is in deep … deep … disguise.”

I know many of us have been following the Occupy Wall Street protests in New York and some of us have been involved in the Occupy St. Louis protest at Keiner Plaza. I spent part of a morning there this week listening and learning. One of the priests in my colleague group, Daniel Simons, works at Trinity Wall Street in New York and wrote the best piece I have seen on the protests and I want to share a bit of it here:

Daniel writes:

“One of the taglines most seen and heard on the street is “We are the 99 percent.” It has an unintended double-entendre. It points to the supermajority who are suffering the systemic manipulation by ruthless profiteers, but it also points to the fact that we are all complicit in creating (and resolving) what ails us. And from my perspective it doesn’t go far enough: We are the 100 percent.

“I write and preach regularly that in God’s economy there is only an “us,” and whenever we fall back to us-and-them thinking, we are contributing to a powerful but failed system that Jesus came to tip into collapse. Jesus in his Resurrection, steps beyond death and creates a new dimension. There is no retribution for his killers, how could there be? – he has just stepped into larger life where the only message can be: ‘Come on, join in the party.’ Any act of scapegoating - it’s their fault; this one is to blame - feeds the old death-bound beast. Making something new is making something together - receiving something together from a God who gives all.”

Give to God what is God’s. And God doesn’t just want all of us. God wants all of us. And there is no them. We are not the 99%. If we are in Christ we have to be the 100%. Because the image of God is not just on some of us, it is on all of us. It sounds great. It sounds great when we sing of ourselves as a fully inclusive Cathedral. But the truth is it’s incredibly hard.

And that’s why Daniel goes on to say:

“Pretty as it sounds, it’s never smooth; there is huge upheaval and conflict along the way to larger life; there are huge risks and uncertainties, and there’s always the underbelly of human fear and insecurity that all of us strive to overcome. Fortunately, Jesus is pretty patient, since it’s taking us awhile to get it.”

“We are the 100%.” No scapegoating. No exclusiong. Only “Come on, join in the party.” When we call ourselves an Oasis congregation that is what we are saying, but it can’t just stop at the water’s edge of sexual orientation. God wants all of us. I hope if someone came here and said, “You know, no offense, but I really don’t want to be around gay and lesbian people and ‘their culture.’ So sure they can be in the room, but they just need to go over there and not bother us.” I hope that if someone came in here and said that, that nobody in this room would have any problem saying “I’m sorry, that might fly in other places, but it’s not OK here. Because Christ Church Cathedral is for everyone.” And having said that say, “Come on in, join the party.”

But here's the thing. If that’s going to be our answer for that, it has to be our answer for everything. It has to be our answer when someone says, “You know, I really don’t want to sing those African-American spirituals … can’t they just do that at the Black History Month potluck and leave us out of it.” Or “You know, I’m really not interested in being around children – why do we have to worry about whether they are connecting with our liturgy.” God wants all of us and God gives all of us to each other. And we get to receive those great gifts! And we’re all invited not just to join in the party but to join Jesus in throwing the party together. We are the 100%. Poor and rich. Young and old. Liberal and conservative. Gay, straight and everything else. White, black, brown and more. And it’s hard work seeing that image of God on each other. It’s hard work letting the people most challenging to us have an equal voice in shaping things that are so dear to us. But this is the party Jesus is throwing with us. But that’s the path to the kingdom of God. Because God wants all of us.

Are we beginning to see why the Pharisees were amazed and went away. God wants all of us. God wants all of us. 10,000 hours. Fully embracing the people who make us the most uncomfortable. A party with lots of different music, some of which we’re not really sure about. It can feel like climbing Everest. Except there’s one more amazing thing … the most amazing thing of all.

Give to God’s what is God’s. Well we belong to God. God wants all of us. The greatest power, the deepest love in all the universe and God passionately wants each and all … of us! We begin every Eucharist with a prayer that starts “Almighty God, to Whom all hearts are open, all desires known, and from Whom no secrets are hid.” And like Jesus’ words to the Pharisees, I think if we ever truly got what we were saying we would scream and fall over unconscious.

Because what we’re saying is God WANTS ALL of US. That God knows us intimately, better than we know ourselves. God knows us in ways that if we stopped to think about it would scare the pants off us. If it takes 10,000 hours to master something, God has not only a master’s degree in each of us but a Ph.D and 15 post doctoral degrees. That God knows us that much and wants us more than we can possibly imagine. More than Bill Gates wanted to be at that computer. Enough to live for us and die for us.

The life we are called into together is amazing. And if we’re not amazed we need to look and listen again. The life we are called together to embrace is challenging and rewarding beyond measure. It will take 10,000 hours and more and there are no shortcuts. It will take rejecting the world’s us vs. them thinking and not settling for anything less than “We are the 100%.” It will take the security of loving each other into believing that God knows us more deeply than we are comfortable anyone knowing us and loves us more faithfully and powerfully than we can believe possible.

But we can do it. Together.

Together, we can give our lives to God, 10,000 hours and more.

Together, we can face the incredibly challenging quest to be not the 80% or even the 99% but the 100%.

Together, we can love each other through any conflict and slay any giant. And together with Jesus we can throw the blowout party of all time.

Together, we can do all these things and more because what we all have in common is each of us and all of us are loved beyond bounds by a God who will let no barrier keep God from us. We are loved by a God who wants us more deeply than we can imagine wanting anything. And who will walk with us every step of the way. AMEN.

"Ripple Effects" - A sermon for the 13th Sunday after Pentecost

2011-09-11T11:18:00.000-07:00

Preached by the Very Rev. Mike Kinman at 10 am at Christ Church Cathedral on Sunday, Sept. 11, 2011

Peter came and said to Jesus, "Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? As many as seven times?" Jesus said to him, "Not seven times, but, I tell you, seventy-seven times.”

John Donne, one of the most brilliant preachers the Anglican Church has ever known is most remembered for this part of a sermon he preached

No man is an island entire of itself; every man
is a piece of the continent, a part of the main;

Put another way, we are all waves in the same ocean. And every action, every event, … has ripple effects in that ocean that spread out in every direction. Ripple effects that change who we are and shape not just our lives but life itself.

Ripple effects.

Nelson Mandela knew all about ripple effects.

Mandela spent 27 years in Robben Island prison for opposing apartheid in South Africa. Twenty seven years because he saw the world as it was and knew it not only should be different but that it could be different. But even from the depths of his prison cell, Nelson Mandela knew that he could not do it alone. He knew he needed a whole nation united in purpose and dedicated as much to one another as they were to the idea of one South Africa.

And so even though he was told he was in prison for life, he began building that nation from his cell. Because actions – all actions -- have ripple effects. And he did it by starting small. If the only way to bring down Apartheid without mass slaughter was for black and white South Africa to do it together, he would start right there, right in the prison where he had been sentenced even for trying to bring this about.

And so Mandela set out to learn about the Afrikaners, the descendants of the Dutch settlers who were the power of white South Africa. He learned their language and he built relationships with some of the white, pro-Apartheid, Afrikaner guards. When Mandela and other prisoners set up schools in the prison to teach one another, he insisted that the guards who asked to be included be welcomed. And a funny thing happened. They found common values and common loves, including a common love for South Africa. And even though there were still many things about which they disagreed and even deep fears of one another, by looking each other in the eye day after day, by learning to speak each other’s languages, by uncovering and discovering the common humanity they shared, buried deep as it might have been, they not only stopped demonizing each other, they slowly became not an us and a them, but a we.

And these small actions, this new way of being … had ripple effects.

The first ripple effects were in Mandela himself. What had begun as an idea -- that we must always view enemies as future friends and treat them as if that day of friendship has already arrived – what had begun as just an idea became a conviction that would shape him and shape history. And that conviction had ripple effects, too. Ripple effects that burst the walls of that prison even before Mandela did. Ripple effects that led to a nearly bloodless revolution that nobody believed could ever happen. Ripple effects that led to an inauguration where his former jailers stood by him as Nelson Mandela ascended to the presidency of that one South Africa -- black and white. Once enemies that were now friends, because Mandela refused to wait to treat them any other way.

Ripple effects.

It’s about ripple effects.

We have to look at this Sunday’s Gospel together with last Sunday’s, where Jesus laid out the widening circles for when someone sins against you in the church – first go to someone directly, then take one or two witnesses, then go to the whole church.

Why does Jesus say that? Why bring more and more people in, if necessary, expanding that circle like ripples in a pond? Because sin is never just about one person or two. Like everything else, sin has ripple effects. John Donne was right. None of us is an island. What affects one affects all. And so if it takes the whole community to make it right, that’s OK, because whether we can see it or not, the action affects the whole community … and beyond.

The same thing is true this morning when we hear Peter ask about forgiveness. But here it gets even trickier. Forgiveness is not a get out of jail free card. It is a sacred bond that comes from looking deep into each other’s eyes and hearts and pledging ourselves again to beliefs and a way of life that we hold together. In the church, it is restoring that relationship of mutual, self-giving love that we pledge to each other and God in baptism. That means both parties – the one who has sinned and those sinned against – we look at each other and say, “OK, we’re all in. We messed up but we will try our best once more to love one another as Christ loves us.”

It’s what the exchange of the peace in our liturgy is all about. It’s not a greeting. It’s a sacred bond. A sacred bond of deep love and reconciliation. When we look at each other and say “the peace of Christ be with you” we are gazing deep into each other and saying whatever has come between us that is unloving – whatever we have just confessed in the confession – we renounce that. And together, we reaffirm and embrace our commitment to loving each other because God loved us first. That’s why when it’s time for the peace, we should actively seek out those whom we have the most conflict with, and look them deeply in the eye and pledge once more together to try to love one another as Christ loves us.

And Jesus says in that case there is no limit to the number of times we should forgive and be forgiven. Why?

Well, first, we forgive without limits because we have been forgiven without limits. That is the depth of God’s love for us. But God's forgiveness is not "oh, its all right, it doesn't matter." Jesus is clear that our behavior does matter - for ourselves and for the community. God’s love is not conditional on our actions, we don’t have to earn God's love and we can’t lose God's love. But we also can't embrace God’s love if we do not live God's love. God loves us as we are but does not leave us as we are. Forgiveness is "go and sin no more." Forgiveness is “Go and love lots more.”

But we also forgive without limits because just as sin has ripple effects, forgiveness does, too. The smallest act of grace. The smallest act of forgiveness, deeply done, can change lives.

And so we are individuals and we are a people with a choice. Which ripple effects will we let spread out endlessly in all directions? Will it be the ripple effects of sin and death and hatred? Or will it be the ripple effects of love and forgiveness and grace?

Jesus knew this choice from the cross, which is why he said to God about the people who even at that moment were torturing and killing him, “Father, forgive them, for they know not what they do.” And it is that choice he gives us this morning and every morning, noon and night. An amazing opportunity to love and forgive because as we live this kind of love and forgiveness, the ripple effects will change our hearts, will change our families and our Cathedral community, the ripple effects will change the world.

Perhaps the choice before us has never been more clear than it is this morning.

John Donne begins, “No man is an island,” but he concludes just as famously.

Any man's death diminishes me,
because I am involved in mankind.

And therefore never send to know for whom
the bell tolls; it tolls for thee.

At 7:46 this morning, several of us climbed the steps of the bell tower and began to ring the great bell, the largest bell in the state of Missouri.

It was 10 years to the minute that American Airlines flight 11 smashed into the north tower of the World Trade Center.

For two minutes, the bell tolled.

It tolled for the women and men who died in New York, Washington and Pennsylvania that day. For everyone who lost a mother, father, sister, brother, lover and friend.

It tolled for the first responders who have since died from terrible diseases from working on the pile.

It tolled for the 7,500 coalition military women and men and for the estimated nearly one million civilians who have died in our wars in Iraq and Afghanistan, and for all those who have lost jobs and had needed services cut as in the wake of $1.3 trillion dollars spent on those wars -- wars the choices we made about how we would respond to that day 10 years ago.

It tolled for the lost innocence of all our children who now live in a world with color coded threat levels and having their shoes x-rayed for explosives at airports, for Muslims across our nation and around the world who for fear and ignorance have been made to feel as not only less than Americans but less than human.

It tolled for the wasted opportunity of Sept. 12, 2001 when the French newspaper Le Monde proclaimed “Today we are all Americans.” For all those who embraced us then but deride us today. It tolled for you and it tolled for me. Ask not for whom the bell tolls, it tolls for thee. It tolls for we.

We have seen the ripple effects of this senseless act of blind hatred 10 years ago today. This week, in the media we have heard again many stories of love and sacrifice and grace that emerged in its wake, and the deep ripple effects they have had. But we are also so aware of the deep and wide ripple effects that meeting these attacks with vengeance and fear and hatred has wrought upon us all. We are all diminished by the human suffering that has rippled out from that day, because we are all involved in humanity.

But we have a choice. The choice Jesus made from the cross. The choice Nelson Mandela made sitting from his cell. We have a choice and it is a small choice, an everyday choice. A choice for you and for me and a choice we make as the community of Christ Church Cathedral.

Throughout our lives in this Fox News-MSNBC nation, will we choose to call those who differ from us enemies, or will we embrace each other as future friends.

Will we continue the cycle of bickering, demonizing and blame throwing between the city, downtown residents, the business community, New Life Evangelistic Center, nonprofits and faith communities. A cycle that has characterized decades of response to homelessness downtown. A cycle whose ripple effects have cemented a status quo that improves no ones lives and is beneath all our human dignity? Or will we learn each other’s languages, seek our common ground, build new friendships and partnerships whose ripple effects can actually help build a city that makes glad the heart of God?

Will we deal with the honest differences that come up in our own life as a Cathedral community by backbiting and turf-defending? Or will we continue to embrace the peace and this Table as the center of our life – where anything that might divide us pales before the unifying love God has for us as sisters and brothers in Jesus Christ.

In the words of our baptismal covenant, will we, whenever we fall into sin, repent and return to the Lord, look each other in the eye and ask for God’s forgiveness and each other’s. Will we, in the words of Gandhi, in our homes, in our lives and in this place, be the change we wish to see in the world?

This morning, while the world looks back at that day 10 years ago and all that has happened since, we have gathered together in this Cathedral to say with one voice that we have had enough of bells tolling. And we have had not nearly enough of dancing. To say with one voice that we believe with Nelson Mandela and countless others before and since that there is a different and more excellent way. The way of Christ. Loving and forgiving 70 times seven and beyond. And that like in that jail cell, it begins small, right here, right now.

In our time together, I have seen us all come together and embraced God in each other in amazing ways … and I know you’ve seen it, too. We are looking honestly at the challenges we face, and we are seeking creative solutions and God’s wisdom together. We are learning one another’s languages and the vision of a new and wonderful undiscovered country before us is starting to come into view.

We have made the choice for life, for grace, for forgiveness and all we need to do is keep making it and the ripple effects of the Holy Spirit will take care of the rest.

So sisters and brothers, I have just one message for you this morning.

Keep it up.

And let’s watch ... and be what happens.

"Forgive, Forgive, Forgive" - A sermon for the 13th Sunday after Pentecost

2011-09-11T10:22:00.000-07:00

Preached by the Rev. Canon John Kilgore at 8 am at Christ Church Cathedral on Sunday, Sept. 11, 2011

So my heavenly Father will also do to every one of you, if you do not forgive your brother or sister from your heart.

This gospel reading today begins with Peter coming to Jesus and asking, ‘Lord, if another member of the church sins against me, how often should I forgive? Seven times?’ And Jesus answering ‘not seven but seventy-seven times!’ Wow! Are we really to be that forgiving? That totally forgiving?

Today is the tenth anniversary of 9/11. Every one of us here will remember where we were that day when we heard the report of a plane flying into the world trade center. Seeing the bodies falling from the twin towers. Watching the video of the twin towers collapsing. And the plane flying into the Pentagon. That day is emblazoned on our minds. And will be for the rest of our lives.

Our world has seen a lot of change since that time. Every report of a random shooting is followed by a question of ‘is it an act of terrorism?’ Suspicious packages are cordoned off and blown up. White powders are suspected of being anthrax. And of course there is the all too presence of security in our lives, whether it is entering the Cathedral here, a skyscraper business building, or passing through airport security. Our world is different.

And actually, I suppose, that we are both the victims and the perpetrators of this nightmare. We individually, we corporately, and we nationally, responded with anger and bile at the possibility that someone could attack us on our own soil and bring down two icons of American prowess, and change the skyline of our major city forever. How could they do that to us? How could that happen here?

And yes, we captured Saddam Hussein and Osama bin Laden. And they are both dead. We have our pound of flesh. Our retribution. But do we? What has become of us in the process? Are we any less angry? Any more secure? Any less tense? Any more free? Free from…?

Over three thousand people were killed on 9/11. In the war since, in Iraq and Afghanistan over 919,000 people have been killed. The majority of them civilians. More people have died every month since 9/11, for ten years, than died on the one day of 9/11. 9/11 for us, the Madrid train bombings, the London subway bombings… How do we react? What do we do?

Jesus had a different approach. Turn the other cheek he told us. Forgive seventy seven times. Wow! What if we had done that? There is a significant part of the world that probably still would hate us. But perhaps not so many. We would not have slaughtered so many innocent bystanders. 900,000 people dead.

In the Old Testament reading today from Exodus we have an account of God protecting the Israelites from the Egyptians as they crossed the Red Sea. Many times God does protect groups and individuals. And many times groups presume God’s protection, God’s being on their side, God’s authorship to substantiate their actions of aggression, war, and killing. Think the Crusades, the driving of the Jews from Spain, modern day jihaad, the Arab-Israeli conflict. How do we know if God is on our side? In the Civil War, Abraham Lincoln was once asked if he thought God was on his side. He responded that he didn’t know but he certainly hoped he was on God’s side.

In the New Testament reading today from Paul’s letter to the Romans we he hear of people doing all kinds of actions on account of their faith, eating anything, eating only vegetables, not eating; observing the Sabbath on one day versus another. And it ends advising us not to judge one another. Someone’s actions done in earnest for the Lord may be just as valid as ours done in earnest. Perhaps! But it is not up to us to decide that. Contemporaneously we may consider the 7^th Day Adventist Church who admonish those of us who don’t worship on the seventh day, Saturday. Or the Church of God who don’t use any musical instruments because of an islolated verse of scripture. Are we all so sure we know the mind of God?

Our gospel reading today begins and ends with Jesus advising us to forgive not seven but seventy seven times, and reminding us that our heavenly Father will do to us as we do to others. And we retaliate in the world?

Is this gospel message a lofty ideal or Jesus’ tough gospel? Can we live it or even begin to approach living it? Retaliation does not seem to be a part of the gospel equation.

A recent church billboard was circulated that read ‘Message from God: Governor Perry, that voice in your head is not God. Go back on your meds!’ It is not heresy to admit that we don’t know the will of God. In fact it maybe a better testimonial of faith to say that we do not know the mind of God. H.L. Mencken, the famous early 20^th century journalist in Baltimore, wrote, ‘All great religions, in order to escape absurdity, have to admit a dilution of agnosticism. It is only the savage, whether of the African bush or the American gospel tent, who pretends to know the will and intent of God exactly and completely… The difference between religions is a difference in their relative content of agnosticism. The most satisfying and ecstatic faith is almost purely agnostic. It trusts absolutely without professing to know at all.”

It trusts absolutely without professing to know at all. Using our faith, using our believed knowledge of God to harm others is always a dangerous supposition, a very slippery slope. We would do well to truly turn the other cheek. Give the benefit of the doubt to the other. And truly forgive seventy seven times. When we judge another’s intentions or actions or values, we are playing God. When we say that another’s faith is wrong and ours is right, that we know God better, we are playing God. When we forgive and just love we are being godly. And are living Jesus’ radical gospel. Concerned about retribution or justice or correcting evil? Those who have done the heinous acts are accountable to God. That is between them and God, not up to us. We are to forgive seventy seven times. Regardless of the cost. It is our gospel imperative. Perhaps we really are to be that forgiving!

May God bless those who have died on 9/11 and since in the cause. And may God bless each and every one of us as we live in His love and learn to forgive, forgive, forgive.

Amen.

A sermon for the 12th Sunday after Pentecost

2011-09-05T18:27:00.000-07:00

Preached by the Rev. John Good at Christ Church Cathedral on Sunday, Sept. 4, 2011

The old adage says, "Nothing is certain but death and taxes." Those "old adagers" had a pretty dim view of what we can expect in life. Most of us don’t want to die, and we’re not too tickled about paying taxes. But have you ever considered that the "old adagers" who linked death with taxes may have unwittingly demonized taxes? I would agree that most of us dread death. But can the same be said about taxes? Supreme Court Justice Oliver Wendel Holmes famously said, "Taxes are what I pay for civilization." Without taxes we would not have the infrastructure of a civilized nation: schools, roads, airports, railroads, navigable rivers, power lines, clean water, waste disposal, street lighting, security, and many other shared benefits.

I have begun this sermon with a reflection on taxes because today I am joining a significant number of other preachers around Missouri and all over the country who are using this Sunday before Labor Day to bring the concerns of working people to the pulpit. This year organized labor in Missouri has asked us to focus on the morality of the Missouri Tax Structure. I want to be up front about this, because this is a political issue and I know some of you think politics has no place in the pulpit. But God is not apolitical. Today’s reading from the Hebrew scriptures is about how God became political to end the immorality of Pharaoh’s oppression of the Hebrews in Egypt. It is the beginning of the final chapter of Yahweh's political contest with Pharaoh to free his people from slavery. It is the story of the Passover in which God finally resorts to extremely violent methods to accomplish his victory.

I believe that when moral issues have political dimensions, God wants his people to get politically involved. The tax structure of any state always involves moral judgments because important values determine the rate at which the state will collect money from its citizens. Needless to say, Christian values are not always the values that inform and shape the taxation policies of the states, including Missouri.

As Paul says in our second lesson for today, the bottom-line-value of Christians is love. "Owe no one anything, except to love one another" he wrote; "for the one who loves another has fulfilled the law. The [ten] commandments…are summed up in this word, ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore, love is the fulfilling of the law." When Paul defines love as not doing wrong to a neighbor he has identified justice as an important aspect of love. If we permit our government to do wrong to our neighbors, we have forsaken the value of love by being complacent about injustice. We have not kept our baptismal promise to "strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being."

Our country does wrong to our neighbors by not taxing ourselves enough. Taxes do not only pay for the infrastructure which benefits all of us, they also pay for human services like health care, unemployment benefits, food stamps, and other welfare programs that benefit the citizens who have been left out of the country’s prosperity. With the percent of people living below the poverty level increasing year by year during the current recession, low taxes cannot adequately fund the so-called "safety net" that these marginalized Americans need to survive.

Of the developed nations of the world, only four of them tax themselves less than the United States.1 We appropriate only about 27% of our nation’s gross domestic product in taxes. The average slice of gross domestic product collected in the other 30 economically developed countries is 36%, with most European nations collecting more than 40%. In our low tax nation, only five states tax their citizens less than Missouri, and only four states spend less per capita on all government programs.2 In trying to balance state budgets and reduce our nation's deficit, American politicians would rather find ways to reduce government spending than add more revenue through taxation. Forty-one U.S. Senators and 236 members of the House of Representatives have signed a pledge never to increase taxes in any way.

I think politicians who refuse to consider increasing taxes have become obedient to the chief idol of our nation—the American Dream. They believe the American Dream is achieved by individual effort and not by cooperative action, even though no one can possibly achieve the dream without help from the infrastructure provided by taxation. The idol inspires the belief that money belongs to the individual who acquires it and should be shielded from collection by the government, even though starving the government will make it less able to guarantee the liberty, security, and educational resources individuals need to make money. The idol emphasizes individual responsibility for taking care of oneself and condemns those who can't of being lazy, even though our economic system has failed to sustain enough jobs for all who want to work. Finally, and most important, the idol of the American Dream justifies selfishness at the expense of love of neighbor.

Instead of defining morality by America's idol, we who follow Jesus define it in terms of the kingdom of God, the community of the beloved and the loving. As Paul says, the commandment to love our neighbors means at least that we will do no harm to them, but even more than that, it calls us to care for them. Those who worship the idol argue that the state should not compel that kind of love, that it is up to individuals acting on their own to care for their neighbors. However, as Frank Schaeffer reveals in a recent book,3 for the last 1000 years Christian leaders have seen government as the medium through which Jesus' disciples work together for the common good. The Bible repeatedly emphasizes the government's responsibility to provide justice for those who are oppressed and exploited. Jesus, himself, criticized the Pharisees, the political elite of his time, for "[tying] up heavy burdens, hard to bear, and lay them on the shoulders of others; but they, themselves, are unwilling to lift a finger to move them" [Mt. 23.4]

While the din of the idol worshippers seems to be drowning out the voices of the kingdom at the present time, more and more of God's advocates are urging us to increase revenue through taxation instead of starving the government through spending cuts. They argue that the government needs resources to supply the basics of civilized societies and care for those who have been marginalized by our political, economic, and social systems. They understand that taxes are not the pariah the idol worshippers contend that they are, but the moral approach to making justice a key component of loving our neighbors.

+

1
The Tax Policy Briefing Book, Tax Policy Center of the Urban Institute and Brookings Institution, (taxpolicycenter. org)

2
"The Tax Tale: 50 State Comparison" in JSOnline: Milwaukee, Wisconsin Sentinal Journal, http://www.jsonline.com/news/wisconsin/89702927.html

3
Frank Schaeffer, Sex, Mom, and God, (Philadelphia, 2011)

"Sacred Ground" - a sermon for the 11th Sunday after Pentecost

2011-08-28T12:27:00.000-07:00

Preached by the Very Rev. Mike Kinman at Christ Church Cathedral on Sunday, August 28, 2011

How many of you have ever been to the Grand Canyon?

I grew up in Arizona, but it wasn’t until I was in third grade that I made it there. And I was with my Mom and my grandma. And I remember so vividly the first time I stepped up to the edge of the South Rim and looked down. I think for the first time I felt awe. (not “awwwww” but “AWE.”) Awe is that mix of deep beauty and fear. Awe is what happens when you are confronted with something real and deep and big.

Experiences of awe like standing on the rim of the Grand Canyon astound and scare us. They fill us with wonder and fear. When we step up to big deep places, we feel a connection with those big, deep places inside of us.

And we want to be quiet, but we’re uncomfortable enough with the awe that we’re actually a little relieved when a car comes up or someone tells a joke. It returns life back to our illusion of control.

If you were here Thursday night you might have met two amazing women named Sheila and Katrina, who came with Becca Stevens from Nashville. They are graduates of the Magdalene program, and amazing series of communities that save the lives of women who have deep histories of abuse, prostitution, drug addiction and violence. The communities are the way God does the healing. And if you were here for the Making Disciples conference yesterday in Schuyler Hall, you heard them tell their stories.

Sheila was six when the first of a series of her mother’s boyfriends and husbands began abusing her. By age 14 she had run away from home and was using drugs and selling herself on the street. And from that came the seemingly endless cycle of arrest, jail and being back out on the streets. And then she heard about the Magdalene program and at first it just seemed like a way to cut short some jail time but when she got there she realized – and it was so hard to believe it – that this was about deep love being for her, deep love that could lead her through the hard, hard work of healing. Deep love that could save her life.

I saw her tell this story in front of more than 100 people in Schuyler. With trembling voice and lots of “ums.” She was scared because it was her story and it was full of so many things that we shame each other for – sex, drug use, imprisonment, running away. Yet the people in the room were gifted with the grace to be willing to receive and see and hear. To not be the people who bring the boom box to the Grand Canyon. And because of that we sat transfixed, in awe.

We were in awe of Sheila’s courage to be that vulnerable.

We were in awe because her story was so real. And we realized the deep beauty in it. And that the stuff that we are most afraid of revealing – the stuff we look at ourselves and count as failure and cringe in shame and bury deep so no one else will see or hear of it. That stuff was the heart of the beauty. Because that stuff, our cries, is the heart of our deepest beauty – when we have the courage to share and when others have the grace to receive.

Isn’t it ironic that what we fear most is our deepest beauty? That we hide our deepest beauty. Isn’t it tragic that our world takes that stuff of our deepest humanity, our deepest wounds, the stuff that could be our deepest beauty and shames us for it, tells us to bury it deep, tells us to believe that because it’s there we are each less than beloved by God?

We were in awe because Sheila’s story was so real and it touched our deep, real stories that we hardly ever take out for a walk to get some air. And the tears we shed were not pity for another, they were the truest tears, when deep beauty and deep pain meet and we feel the presence of God and something in us says “It’s OK. It’s safe enough. You can let go and let it out for a second.”

And Schuyler Hall became sacred ground. Because it was there we met beauty and pain within and without. It was there we felt the power of God.

I love this morning’s story from Exodus. Because it is so deeply true.

The first thing we notice is that Moses doesn’t have to take some special pilgrimage to find God. God was right there where he was. He just had to turn aside and stop and notice.

The second thing we notice is why God is present. God is not on a sightseeing trip. God is present because where our pain is, God is. Listen again:

Then the LORD said, "I have observed the misery of my people who are in Egypt; I have heard their cry on account of their taskmasters. Indeed, I know their sufferings, and I have come down to deliver them from the Egyptians, and to bring them up out of that land to a good and broad land, a land flowing with milk and honey, to the country of the Canaanites, the Hittites, the Amorites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites. The cry of the Israelites has now come to me; I have also seen how the Egyptians oppress them. So come, I will send you to Pharaoh to bring my people, the Israelites, out of Egypt." But Moses said to God, "Who am I that I should go to Pharaoh, and bring the Israelites out of Egypt?" He said, "I will be with you; and this shall be the sign for you that it is I who sent you: when you have brought the people out of Egypt, you shall worship God on this mountain."

Listen to the verbs:
-I have heard their cry.
-I know their sufferings
-I have come down to deliver them
-I will send you
-I will be with you.

I have heard, I know, I have come down, I will send, I will be with you. That is God’s eternal chorus to us. All the stuff we hide. All the stuff we’re told to be ashamed of. God looks at it and says that is where I will be. That is what I will heal. I have heard. I know. I have come down. I will send. I will be with you.

And then our response, our acknowledgment that we know God is present and that we want not to wallow in our pain but to let God heal and deliver us out of it, is that we will worship. The sign is we shall worship God on this mountain.

God’s presence is where the cry of the people is. Where the reality of life’s rubber hits the road. Where we bring all that stuff that keeps us up nights, that ties our stomachs in knots, that makes our shoulders sag, and our heart afraid. All of those things that we think “Oh, if they found out they wouldn’t like me. If they only knew, they wouldn’t let me be in a place like this or sit at table with them.” Where that is, God is, and it is holy.

The third thing we notice is how God tells Moses to receive God’s presence. Take off your shoes. God has to tell Moses this because often that’s not our first reaction when we see the presence of God. Our first reaction is often fear and uncomfortability. The presence of God is a fearful thing so our first reaction is often to avoid or to try to make it go away. Moses hid his face out of fear. We have to be reminded, when God’s presence emerges, when we see the burning bush, DON’T GRAB THE FIRE EXTINGUISHER and don’t run away. Stay right there, and listen, and behold, and take off our shoes and tread gently. And be with God in that space. Just be.

And then together, we can follow God as God does the healing.

I will deliver
I will send
I will be with you.

The elements, those amazing verbs of the Exodus story are the same verbs that Sheila used to describe her life.

-God heard her cry.
-God knew her sufferings
-God came down to delivered her from the streets
-God sent her into a new life
-God has been and always will be with her.

And the same is true for all of us. God meets us as we are but does not leave us as we are . There is no wallowing in pain in the Exodus. And there is no endless wallowing in pain for us. God didn’t come down and stay with the people in Egypt but led them on a hard journey of looking honestly at where they are and looking honestly at how they got there and then helping them chart a course and walking with them into a new and better land. As Sheila says, you’ve got to deal to heal. We’ve got to deal with where we are and how we got there if we’re going to let God get us to that new and better land. You’ve got to deal to heal.

And that means we have to let the fire burn openly and honestly and know that we will not be consumed. Know that even though none of us can heal ourselves and none of us can heal each other, that we have a God who hears and knows and delivers and sends and is always with us. And that is all we need .

And that place where God meets us. Where God is revealed in the midst of your pain and mine. That is the church. That is who we can be for each other. That is who we can be for the world, one life at a time. We can be the place in our lives where we let that deep beauty, that deep stuff inside that we fear, where we start to let it out. But the only way we can be that place is if we remember. If we remember that what the world counts as shameful, God looks on with compassion. And to take our shoes off as we walk on the most sacred ground in creation. The ground of each other’s stories. The ground of each other’s lives.

If we remember that we can’t fix each other but together we can look for the God who hears, knows, delivers, sends and is with us, knowing that God can heal anything.

If we remember that we are not destined to stay in Egypt but that we are destined for a new and better and promised land. And that the journey of healing and deliverance will be long and hard but that God will guide us there together if we will follow. And though we, like the people of Israel, will stumble and fall and complain and chase after other gods, God will always be with us an urge us on the way.

And this will be the sign of our life together. That we will gather here, together, in honesty and fear and beauty and awe. That we will gather here each Sunday on this mountain and worship.

Amen.

"Bad Moon Rising? Bring. It. On." -- A sermon for the 8th Sunday after Pentecost

2011-08-07T12:11:00.000-07:00

Preached by the Very Rev. Mike Kinman at Christ Church Cathedral on Sunday, August 7, 2011

Jesus made the disciples get into the boat and go on ahead to the other side… When evening came, he was there alone, but by this time the boat, battered by the waves, was far from the land, for the wind was against them. And the disciples turned to each other, and began to sing:

I see the bad moon arising.
I see trouble on the way.
I see earthquakes and lightnin'.
I see bad times today.

[Chorus:]
Don't go around tonight,
Well, it's bound to take your life,
There's a bad moon on the rise.

I hear hurricanes ablowing.
I know the end is coming soon.
I fear rivers over flowing.
I hear the voice of rage and ruin.

[Chorus]
All right!

Hope you got your things together.
Hope you are quite prepared to die.
Looks like we're in for nasty weather.
One eye is taken for an eye.

[Chorus]
[Chorus]
In the name of God, Father, Son and Holy Ghost. Amen

It’s all we hear these days. There’s a bad moon rising. The hurricanes are blowing. The end is coming soon.

We see it everyday. Big bad numbers are everywhere – a $14 Trillion dollar national debt. Unemployment hovering around 10%. The Dow falls 500 points in one day.

And everyone is looking for the magic answer … and everyone is so sure that they and they alone have the silver bullet that can save the day. Cut spending. Raise taxes. Cut taxes. Raise spending. Keep pulling different levers and pushing different buttons until we find the magic formula that is going to make it all right, that will calm the sea again, that will make America the mythical land of overflowing prosperity once again.

It’s easy for us to get frustrated at the people in Washington, but we’re doing the same thing ourselves.

Here at Christ Church Cathedral, we’re looking at a $55,000 deficit. And as I sit with Kris Reppert and the finance committee and Grace and Anne and the Chapter I know I want to find that silver bullet, too. I want to find that magic formula that’s going to make it all right, that will take away our fear, that will return us to the mythical glory days of Christ Church Cathedral. Cut the budget, raise more pledge income. Increase spending to try to increase attendance. The temptation is for us to pull the exact same levers and push the exact same buttons here.

And it's the same thing for each one of us. Every year it feels like we’re trying not just to do more with less but even to just try to break even with less, right? And so we’re all looking for the magic formula. How do we get more money, and cut expenses. How do we make it balance out. Mostly, as we watch the news and as we watch our own bills pile up and as many of our jobs become more and more tenuous, we want someone to snap their fingers and make it all OK, help us believe we can be confident and unafraid, that our children and grandchildren will enjoy the mythical epic prosperity that the rest of the world looks to America and aspires to.

This bad moon has been rising for awhile. The storm has been brewing and it is now starting to whip up real good. Although some of us have been feeling those winds and waves a lot longer than others of us. But now there aren’t a lot of people left who aren’t looking at the dark sky and feeling nervous. Who aren’t feeling tossed by the waves and worrying if the ship is going to make it.

There’s a bad moon rising. And it’s been rising for awhile. Because here’s the truth. The truth is the math hasn’t worked for a long, long time. Here in America, we are 5% of the world’s population and we’re responsible for 30% of the world’s consumption of resources. You just can’t keep that up indefinitely. It’s only a matter of time before the bills start coming due.

The truth is, our American lifestyle is not sustainable economically, it’s not sustainable environmentally and it is not sustainable morally. And here’s the thing… There is no silver bullet. There is no magic combination of levers pulled and buttons pushed that is going to bring a new day of superabundant material prosperity. Not for our nation. Not for Christ Church Cathedral. Not for your household or mine.

And let me tell you, we don’t want to hear that. The last major American politician who tried to even start to tell us the truth about this was Jimmy Carter and every politician since saw what happened to him and has said, "I'm not trying that again!"

And so we elect leaders who tell us what we want to hear. That this superabundance of wealth is our birthright as Americans and that it will return again. That it is absolutely sustainable if we swallow whatever magic economic policy pill they happen to be offering. That it is “those other people” who are the problem – they’re the ones. They’re the flies in the ointment and if we could just get rid of them we could all live in the land of plenty once more.

Some use soaring rhetoric that lifts our hearts and many, many more demonize and divide and tempt us to cower in fear, but none of them are telling us the truth.

And the truth is that we are 5% of the world’s population and we’re responsible for 30% of the world’s consumption. You do the math. So, be my guest. Cut taxes. Raise taxes. Cut spending. Raise spending. Knock yourself out. Unless we address our own addiction to consuming, our own addiction to a lifestyle that is unsustainable on every level, in the long run, none of it is going to matter.

And, at first blush, that’s really scary. It’s scary because for most of us, this lifestyle is all we’ve ever known. It’s how we judge our own worth. Our success and failure. We can’t imagine living any way that’s significantly different. Not only do we not have any easy answers, we’re not even sure what questions we should be asking. We don’t even know where to begin.

And so the voices that tell us they have the magic answer are really tempting to listen to. The voices that urge us to care only for ourselves and to build high walls around our houses, our incomes and our savings accounts no matter how great the need is elsewhere ... those voices are so tempting to listen to. The voices that tell us to be afraid and run away and stick our heads in the sand are so tempting to listen to.

But there is another voice. A voice not only older than the storm but older than the very sea this storm is tossing. A voice that knows as fierce as this storm is, it cannot touch the power of God. A voice that sees the sky darken, the waves roll and the winds blow and says just three words.

Bring. It. On.

And that brings us to this morning’s Gospel.

This morning’s Gospel finds the disciples just like we are. In a boat in a storm.

Now for these disciples, it isn’t 2011. There’s no GPS to guide them or coast guard to bail them out. Jesus, the guy who put them on that boat and sent them on this journey, is off on a mountain somewhere praying. As far as they can tell, they are all on their own. Which means if that boat capsizes, they are done for. It’s all over.

And morning begins to break, and Jesus walks toward them on the water and all they can think is “People don’t walk on water” so they grasp for any explanation that makes even a little bit of sense and they settle on “it must be a ghost!” And that scares them all the more.

And what does Jesus say to them? Do you remember?

Take heart. It is I. Do not be afraid.

Take heart. It is I. Do not be afraid.

So let’s press pause there and recap.

Like us, the disciples are in a boat in a storm and they’re scared. That’s OK. That’s natural. Storms are scary. And even when they see Jesus coming, their first reaction is not to recognize him and to be even more afraid. That’s OK, too. That’s natural. That’s human. Our fear doesn’t make us bad people. It makes us human people. It’s what we DO in the face of fear that makes all the difference.

And here’s what Jesus doesn't do in the face of fear – in the face of theirs and in the face of ours. What Jesus doesn’t do is immediately calm the storm. He doesn’t say the magic word, pull the lever or push the button and make it all OK. Instead he just stops and stands there, stands there on the place they fear the most – in the middle of the storm itself and he calls out to us, as we clutch to the sides of the boat:

Take heart. It is I. Do not be afraid.

And then Peter has one of his moments of incredible inspiration. Peter devises the perfect test to see if this really is Jesus. Because Peter knows the Jesus that looked at the 5,000 and said “you give them something to eat” wouldn’t just stand there in the storm, he would say, nuh-uh-uh-uh-uh … you’re coming out here with me. Jesus doesn’t tell them don’t be afraid because he’s going to protect them or help them run away from the scary stuff. Jesus says "Bring. It. On." He tells them “don’t be afraid” and then charges right into the teeth of the scariest stuff there is.

So Peter says, “Jesus, if that’s really you, yeah ... OK ... Bring. It. On. Command me to come out onto the water with you.”

And you’ve gotta believe Jesus was smiling right then. Peter, my man, my rock, you get it. Bring it on. And so he commands him to get out of the boat and Peter delivers. Peter does what to anyone else watching seemed crazy. He got out of that boat and started walking on the water toward Jesus.

We tend to remember this more as a story of Peter’s failure. We remember him taking his eyes off Jesus and fearing and starting to sink. And that’s a real shame. Because this isn’t a story of failure. This is a story of the power of "bring it on." The story of someone who believed even for a second that we have the power to face any fear, to do what seems impossible. Sure he faltered and fell, but man, he got out of the boat. The man walked on water! He proved what we are capable of when we keep our eyes on Christ.

Jesus meets us where we are but if we turn our lives over to him, he will never leave us as we are. If we, like Peter, ask him to, he will always invite us to look into the storm and join him in that chorus of Bring. It. On. He will always invite us step out of the boat and join him right in the midst of the stormy sea. He will always invite us to charge together into the teeth of our fear – so that we can truly discover that we can walk on water. That we don’t need the safety of the boat. And that even though the storms are blowing all around us that we can take heart and not be afraid.

We all see the bad moon rising. And if all we do as a Cathedral and all we do as individual followers of Jesus in our own homes is play the game the way everyone else is, then we are missing a once in a generation opportunity to live the Gospel and proclaim it to a nation that needs to know there is a different and better way.

Right now our nation is running scared. You see it on Wall Street. You see it everywhere. But we see Jesus in the middle of the storm, so we can link arms and step out of the boat that everyone else is clinging to in fear. Step out and run toward him, right into the heart of the storm. Because we believe Jesus is both our destiny and the one who has our backs, we can feel the wind and waves swell around us and we can say with one voice:

Bring. It. On.

It means that while we’re looking at our own budget we get to set our eyes on Christ, to read scripture deeply, pray deeply and listen deeply for his voice on one another’s lips. We get to look for new ways to be not just the church but new ways to be Americans. Ways that look Jesus full in the face and invite him to command us out onto the water. Ways that invite him to challenge even our most deeply held assumptions of what we need not only to be Christ Church Cathedral but to be members of this American society. And as long as I am your dean, that is the path we will seek. It is not the path of the quick fix or the easy answer, but we don't want those paths. those paths are not worthy of us. Those paths aren't worthy of a people who can walk on water.

I tell my kids that courage isn’t being unafraid. Courage is being afraid and doing it anyway. Courage is looking at moments of fear not as moments of personal weakness but as moments of opportunity to reach down deep and find out who we are and whose we are.

Beloved, I have no magic words, silver bullets or miracle cures for us. All I have is our trust that this moment is here to teach us that we are images of God and we belong to Christ. And that walking on water ain’t no thing. I can’t tell you how to walk on water and maybe before we get iit down, we'll start to sink a hundred times and a hundred times have Jesus lift us up and put us back in the boat and shake his head and smile and say “when are you going to get this?” But we’re going to keep stepping out of that boat. We're going to keep heading into the storm. And we're going to find a new way of living for ourselves and for the world.

We see a bad moon rising?

Well, Alleluia.

Bring. It. On.

Amen.

"...and Jesus said, 'Get over yourselves." -- A sermon for the First Sunday After Pentecost (Trinity Sunday)

2011-06-20T07:57:00.000-07:00

Preached by the Very Rev. Mike Kinman at Christ Church Cathedral on Sunday, June 19, 2011

The eleven disciples went to Galilee, to the mountain to which Jesus had directed them. And Jesus came and said to them,

“Get over yourselves.”

In the name of God, Father, Son and Holy Spirit, AMEN.

What did creation sound like?

Astronomers like my dad talk about “the Big Bang.” And then you get all those “if a tree falls in the forest questions about it.” Was it really a sound? The creation story we heard this morning doesn’t even mention sound at all. It’s all about the visual. Day by day passing. Light coming from darkness. Land from water. Gradually all that we know as creation appearing on the scene.

Well, I don’t know what creation itself sounded like, but if I had to guess what the moment before creation sounded like, it would be something like this:

Isn’t that a great sound??? It is the chaotic sound of potential … of anticipation. When you hear that cacophony of instruments tuning and then the baton tapping ... and the pregnant pause … you just know that something beautiful is about to be created. Because each instrument has finished focusing on itself. From now on they will be watching only the conductor and listening deeply to each other … because that’s the way the beauty of the symphony is created.

If there was a soundtrack to the creation story in Genesis, it would begin with that sound. And the music that followed would be the most brilliant and harmonious ever written.

Because that’s what our creation story is. It is a story of God bringing order, harmony and deep beauty out of chaos. And every step of the way, God echoes the refrain.

And God saw that it was good.

It was good.

It was good.

Until finally God is finished and steps back and says,

yes, Yes, YES! … that is VERY GOOD.

Every time I hear this story, I wish we could just push pause when the reader is finished. Because it all goes downhill from there. But at that moment, that precious fleeting moment, all is as it should be. It’s the “for one brief shining moment it was Camelot.”

God is at the center of all existence, and not only is all creation very good, all creation knows it is very good, in fact knows and believes it so much that it doesn’t worry if anyone else knows it, doesn’t worry about having to individually prove its goodness to itself or anyone else. And like that orchestra, with eyes trained on the maestro and listening deeply to each other, all that is left for all creation is to create beautiful music for all eternity.

The ultimate

…eternal

…jam.

But that’s not what happened, is it? Because we know the rest of the creation story. We know how sin entered in with that tempting serpent saying, “but you could be like God.” You could be at the center. You see, the fall isn’t about creation becoming evil. What God creates as very good is always very good. The fall is about us forgetting that.

The fall is about all humanity falling away from a God-centered harmony of believing in and celebrating our goodness -- to a self-centered insecurity of doubting our goodness, of fearfully needing to put ourselves at the center above God and all others. The fall is about the fall from resting in the strong, loving arms of the divine to huddling around the fragile, fearful shells of our own egos.

The problem isn’t that we became evil. The problem is we forgot that we are good.

But God didn’t forget us. God kept reminding us, and God kept urging us to remind each other. And God gave us a beautiful gift of a word. A word of remembrance.

The word … Bless.

Now the word “bless” doesn’t make something good any more than the fall made anything evil. The word bless literally means “to speak well of” … to say “this is good.”

The word bless is God’s gift of remembrance to us. So that whenever we see something that is very good, whenever we see something that reminds us that we are good, reminds us that we can live without fear, reminds us that all we have to do is keep our eyes on the maestro and listen deeply to each other and create amazing beauty. Whenever we see something like that we bless it. We say in the name of God, “this is very good.”

And the rest of the world looks at it and says “Ah … I remember…. That’s what that looks like. That’s what we all can be. Isn’t that beautiful. How can I be like that. How can I remember that I am good, too.”

It’s why we do house blessings. Not to bestow some magical spell of protection but to affirm the holy desire of the people who live there to open their home up in hospitality. And so we bless it and them and affirm, “this is good, this is very good.”

It’s why we bless animals every Feast of St. Francis. To point to the loving, faithful companionship they give and affirm “this is good, this is very god.”

It’s why at this Cathedral we bless unions of self-giving love between two people. To point to the Christlike laying down of lives for each other they are about and affirm, “this is good, this is very good.”

Someone asked me why we stood out there in the sea of 65,000 racers at Race for the Cure blessing them with holy water and I said because where there are people giving themselves up for the sake of love and healing, the church needs to be there saying “this is good, this very good”.

We forget that is our job sometime, but it is. Somewhere along the line someone got the idea that the church was here to turn bad people into good people. Not true. As the church, we are here to remind us that we are already good, and that we don’t need to lead these fearful, hoarding lives of those who doubt their own goodness.

It’s not hard. Here’s how we do it. Here’s how we do our work of blessing.

Get aspergelium and get out of the pulpit.

Who here gave an hour of their time this week to help others? -- You are blessed. You are good. (apserge with holy water)

Who here spent time yesterday playing with a child? - You are blessed. You are good. (apserge with holy water)

Who here did something you don’t like to do to show your spouse or partner you love them? You are blessed. You are good. (apserge with holy water)

Who here gave time or money or prayer to this church or someone in this community this week without thought of reward or recognition? You are blessed. You are good. (apserge with holy water)

Think for a second. What is blessed. What is good in your life? What is blessed. What is good in our lives. Have you blessed someone recently? Have you heard a blessing for yourself?

We are a blessed, beloved community but we are more than that. We are a community of remembrance. Of reminding each other that we are blessed and beloved. Of reminding each other that God made us good and that we don’t need to focus on ourselves but we can live fearless lives focusing on God and listening deeply to each other and creating beautiful, beautiful music together.
And that brings us to the Gospel reading for today. The eleven disciples are with Jesus on the mountain and in Matthew this is the first and only time they will see him after the resurrection so Jesus has to be brief and not pull any punches. And so here is what he says:

“Hey … Get over yourselves.”

Ok, so that’s a rough translation. But that’s really what he is saying. He says “All authority in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go therefore and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, and teaching them to obey everything that I have commanded you. And remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

All authority in heaven and earth has been given to me, Jesus says. The battle is over. Christ has risen from the dead. The goodness can’t be held down. You don’t need to worry about yourself anymore. Worrying about yourself is for people who doubt their goodness. Worrying about yourself is for people who doubt God’s love for them. Worrying about yourself is about people who are afraid they will be left without. Get over yourself. That’s not you. You are my beloved – now and to the end of the age. And I am reminding you now and always that you are good. That you are blessed. But that reminder isn’t just for you. As Dahn Gandell said last Sunday, “Transformation not shared is wasted. “

So Go. Get over yourselves and go and make disciples of all nations. Go remind everyone that they are good. You see, there is a whole world out there that lives in fear and that is crying in pain and that has forgotten that they are good. That has forgotten that they don’t have to concentrate on themselves, but that they can take their gaze off themselves and put it on God and listen deeply to each other and create beautiful, beautiful music.

One of the biggest mistakes the church ever made was taking this Great Commission and turning it into a fearful, self-righteous message of “convert or die.” That’s not what Jesus is telling us. He is looking at us with great love and saying, “Get over yourself.”

We’re not sent out with the message “convert or die” but “wake up and live.” We’re ready to play this song. All we have to do is remember that we are very good, and because we are we can set your eyes on Christ, listen deeply to each other and have our life be a symphony. Have our life be the ultimate, eternal, jam.

If there was a soundtrack for the mountain top that day. If there was a soundtrack for us as we prepare to head out from this place into the world, this would be the sound we hear.

Beloved, we are tuned and ready to play. We are very good. We know we are very good because God says we are very good. And because we remember that, we can keep our eyes on Christ, listen deeply to each other, and create incredible beauty together.

The baton is tapping.

What amazing music will flow through us next?

AMEN.

"Go Crazy, Folks, Go Crazy!" - a sermon for the Sixth Sunday of Easter

2011-06-01T11:32:00.000-07:00

Preached by the Very Rev. Mike Kinman at Christ Church Cathedral on Sunday, May 29, 2011

“In a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me."

One of the most damaging things about extremists is they make us feel safe.

OK, that sounds weird, so let me say that again.

One of the most damaging things about extremists is they make us feel safe.

Here's what I mean. Take the Ku Klux Klan or the people from Westboro Baptist Church that picket and shout hateful things at funerals. We can look at them and say. “We would never do the things they do. We'd never burn a cross on someone's lawn or picket a funeral. In fact we'll be the first ones to stand up and say how awful those things are.” And because we're not like that, we can tell ourselves that we're not racist or prejudiced. They make us feel like, in comparison, our own prejudices are tame and acceptable. They make us feel safe and secure and OK with the idea of an acceptable level of prejudice.

The same thing with those Wall Street CEOs who are reaping big bonuses and buying their 5th and 6th homes while more and more people are slipping into poverty. We're not like that. Now secretly part of us might wish we were, but since we're not, we can look at them and feel like, in comparison, our own consumption is tame and acceptable. That even though the money I spent on an iPad could have sent 10 kids to school for a year in Ghana, I can feel safe and secure with how I am living.

And then there's that guy who predictably mispredicted the rapture and has now come out with his adjusted prediction for next October. How many of us laughed at and made jokes about him? And there were some pretty good ones out there. And we could make the jokes and laugh because we looked at those people and said, "well, we're not THAT." And in fact, if you're like me, as the jokes and ridicule really got going, and as they expanded from just joking about him and his followers to some people lumping all Christians in the same boat with him, maybe you had the itch to make sure people knew that we weren't one of "those kind" of Christians. You know, the crazy kind. We were the kind that were with those laughing at him, who were smarter than all that. We're the rational, measured kind of Christian.

You know, Episcopalians.

Except here's the thing. While the Klan and Wall Street CEOs and hedge fund managers make us feel safe with our own levels of prejudice and consumption, the crowd that was predicting the rapture and people like that herd us as Christians into a different but equally perilous place of safety. A place where because we can say "Well I'm not a Biblical literalist or a fundamentalist." Because we can say, "No way, I'm not one of these people who believes the world is just 6,000 years old and that God ‘hid the dinosaur bones to test our faith.’" Because we can look at an extreme and feel safe in telling ourselves and others what we're not, we more and more shy away from or even loudly disavow one simple, honest, and absolutely central fact of our faith – and that is this:

To a world that demands tangible proof and rationality. Our faith, our church, our very presence here this morning … is crazy.

It just is.

Any way we slice it, any way we try to rationalize it. Any way we try to dress it up – and believe me, theologians have been trying to do that for centuries. The center of our faith -- not even just that God exists but that God became human in Jesus Christ and that God is right here with us in real and powerful ways today through the Holy Spirit – to anyone who doesn’t see with eyes of faith, that looks not only unprovable but yeah, just really crazy. And what's nuttier still is we hear in the Gospel this morning that this is by design. Jesus says to his disciples, "in a little while the world will no longer see me, but you will see me." You are going to see something that the rest of the world will not be able to see. Something that could either be called revelation or hallucination, depending on where someone is standing. You will be challenged to be a people who say not only "we believe in all things seen" but "we believe in all things -- seen and unseen.”

For us, that's an invitation to be called what the disciples were called by just about everybody -- crazy. And living in a world that more and more values the rational and sees belief in anything else as superstitious and primitive, that puts us in a real bind. Because we really don’t want people to think we're crazy. Its not comfortable, its not fun and, frankly, we have a lot to lose. When people start thinking you’re crazy you can lose friends and family and respect and even your livelihood … and who wants that?

So we try not to talk about it. And we as Episcopalians have gotten really good at this stuff. We've gotten great at pointing out the extremists and with more than a little edge of superiority joining in the laughter at them… and all the while ignoring the fact that sure, even though we absolutely weren’t among those who believed the rapture was happening that frankly, the things we will stand and say in a minute after "We believe" in the creed aren't that far off from those folks in blowing the top off a completely rational world's weird-stuff-o-meter.

And so more and more, little by little, we've gotten really good at hedging our bets. More and more we focus not on the unprovable things we believe but on tangible things we can do. Things like feeding the poor and working for justice. Good things. Worthy things. Things we should be doing. But also things that are rationally defendable apart from faith. Things we can talk about and focus on without giving people an opening to call us completely Fruit Loops.

But the truth is that the heart of our faith – the reason behind why we do all these things, what makes us the church instead of just another do-gooding nonprofit… in the eyes of a world that demands evidence and rationality, the heart of what drives us the heart of our faith sounds absolutely crazy! And in our nervousness and fear as we more and more shrink away from the big crazy at the center, that big crazy that starts with "I believe in God" and "I believe in Jesus Christ, God's only Son, our Lord." The more and more we shrink away from that, the easier it is for us to rationalize away all the other little crazies that come from it. And soon our faith has become safe and acceptable and nothing that anyone would ever ridicule us for. And with it we have lost the very thing that makes us different. The very thing that makes us makes us the church of Christ. The very thing that makes there be any point to us existing at all.

Here's how it happens…

Take the story of the rich young ruler, who asked Jesus what he needed to do to get eternal life. Sure, Jesus' answer was "Sell all you have, give it to the poor and come and follow me." But smart people realize he didn't really mean that literally. If you look at things rationally, he couldn’t possibly have meant that. Everyone knows it was a metaphor! That's what rationalization and our fear of the crazy lets us say.

Except, no ... if we’re going to really be the church and not be just another safely acceptable do-gooding nonprofit, we have to say that it really wasn’t a metaphor. When we hear the story of the rich young ruler, the answer isn't "No, Jesus didn't really mean that." but “Yeah, Jesus really did mean that and the problem is it sounds crazy and it is so hard.” The answer is “yeah, we really are supposed to do that. But I just can’t bring myself to do it. God, I want to be that person who says yes, I will sell all I have and give it to the poor and follow you, but instead I really am the person going away sorrowful because I have many possessions ... and who will continue, by the way, to rule and be respected -- in the world of the rational.”

We shrink away from the big crazy at the center and all the other little crazies that come with it because we’re afraid of being called crazy but also because the things they call us to are so hard. Washing the world's feet … is hard. Standing in a public space and saying "We believe" and then saying a whole bunch of fantastic, unprovable things … is hard. Letting go and trusting our lives to a God we can't definitively scientifically prove even exists … is hard. And that's why Jesus, sitting with his disciples says, look, I can’t make it less hard, but I can promise you I won’t make you go it alone. That's why Jesus says, "I will not leave you an orphan." This is too hard for you by yourself. I will stay with you and I will gather you in a community where you can help each other and let me help you do this.

And if we are going to be worthy of being the church, if there is going to be a reason for us to be here beyond just providing some social and cultural services, we have to not only not be afraid of the crazy, we have to run to the crazy, celebrate the crazy. We have to live the crazy … and not expect anyone else to understand.

In January, your Chapter decided to take $120,000 of the bequest we got from Clarence and Zua Pope … that’s 10% of what was left after we used much of it to pay off our debts – to take it and dedicate it to outreach. This past Thursday, Chapter accepted the recommendations of a faithful, prayerful, hard-working group – Miriam Jorgensen, Tom Edelman, Thom Gross, Celeste Smith, Heidi Clark, Alice Stanley, Eli Anderson, and Robert Kamkwalala to take that $120,000 … and give it away.

That’s right. We’re going to just give it away. $120,000. And, yeah, we’re going to give it away to some amazing organizations who are going to do wonderful things with it. We’re giving it away to an Anglican Mission Hospital in Malawi where it will mean the difference between life and death for some of the world’s poorest people. We’re giving it away to The Bridge, Centenary United Methodist Church’s fantastic organization down the street that is one of the primary caregivers for our sisters and brothers living in poverty right on and even inside our front door. We’re giving it away to Doorways, an assisted living facility for people living with HIV/AIDS, to Places for People, which helps find housing and care for people with mental illness and to the LGBT Center of St. Louis and to the St. Louis Crisis Nursery and the Alzheimer’s Association of St. Louis and a group on the Pine Ridge reservation where our J2A group went last year and to the Treehouse Wildlife Center and Episcopal City Mission and Grace Hill and the school in our companion diocese of Lui in Sudan.

We’re taking $120,000 ,and we are giving it away. And there have been some who have said that’s crazy. Some have said it’s crazy to give $120,000 away when we’re facing a budget deficit ourselves. Some say it’s crazy to give $120,000 away and not hold some of it back when some opportunity for outreach might come up next week that we might love to have some of that money to fund.

And if you’re one of the people who think it’s crazy for us to give this money away, my only response to you is that you are absolutely right. You bet it’s crazy. It’s crazy to give away that much. It’s crazy to trust that much that God will provide for us if we give to others. If we see as the rest of the world sees, it makes no sense whatsoever. In a nation where storing up treasure on earth is virtue and insurance is a $2 trillion industry, giving away money while we are in deficit and just trusting that if a need comes God will provide is absolutely nuts.

But if all we are doing is seeing as the world sees, then we should close up shop anyway. We should take this beautiful building and give it to someone who can use it as a concert hall and we should just liquidate our assets and give them to the tornado victims in Joplin.

It is crazy to give this money away, but guess what? We are here to be crazy. It is our greatest joy to be crazy. To see what the world cannot see. To do strange, crazy, impossible things because “we believe in God, the Father almighty, creator of heaven and earth.” And we need to give this money away not so much for the great good it will do but for the sake of our own souls. Because it’s too easy for us to forsake our high calling and instead chase after the safety of the rationally defendable. Because it’s too easy for us to forget that what the world says is crazy – trusting in God and giving our lives away -- is actually what we’re supposed to be about.

Because our salvation lies not in being safe and acceptable or just one more do-gooding nonprofit, but in actually being the church. Because we're not supposed to be like everyone else and run from the crazy, but instead when people throw that label of crazy at our feet we will pick it up and wear it as a badge of honor.

So, in God’s name, what crazy thing can you do … today? AMEN.

Dive for our keyboards or fall to our knees?

2011-05-06T08:45:00.000-07:00

Sometimes this week, I've felt like the only person who hasn't issued an missive or tweeted or posted a Facebook opinion about the death of Osama bin Laden.

It's certainly not for lack of opportunity or invitation or even time.

Like a lot of people, I first found out about it on Facebook when a whole bunch of status updates started announcing it. So I climbed into bed and turned on CNN and watched it all unfold.

And then it began. The tidal wave of reaction ... and reaction to the reaction ... and so on and so on. There were the people celebrating his death ... and there were the people chastising the celebrating ... and people chastising the chastisers ... and theologians or all stripes weighing in with incredible certainty in their tones ... and people saying exactly what this meant to the ridiculously named "war on terror" and what it meant for Obama's presidency ... and so on and so on and so on. Twitter reported that "more than 4,000 tweets per second were being sent at the beginning and end of Obama's speech."

The next morning, the Gen X clergy listerv I'm on had lots of reaction along this line. The one I was waiting for and that particularly stuck with me was my friend Vicki's ... because not only is Vicki a fairly conservative Republican (different from me!) but, more to the point, her fiancee was on the Pan Am jet that was brought down by terrorists over Lockerbie. What I got from her message made a lot of sense to me -- "don't tell people what they *should* be feeling or how they *should* be reacting."

I began to read the missives that started being issued by my fellow cathedral deans. And I began to feel like, as the new Dean of Christ Church Cathedral, I should write something myself. But I couldn't. Well, that's not right. I could have. But it just didn't feel right. And part of it was not only that I didn't have a pat and easily tweetable response, but every time I thought of trying to write something I would wonder "how is this not just adding to the noise?" And the certainty of everyone's statements was making me feel really uncomfortable and yet I felt this pressure to weigh in ... a pressure that I pretty much have resisted.

So five days later, I'm just beginning to pray and sort through where I am on bin Laden's death. And it's not full of certainty. And it's not simple and easy to tweet.

I am sad.

I am sad at any death. I am sad when violence is seen as an appropriate solution. I am sad at the brokenness and sin that leads to people like bin Laden doing the things they do and that lead us to using violence against him. I am sad that the people who are his victims in some ways have wounds reopened by this. I am sad that this is leading to a new round of American exceptionalism. I am sad at the resurgence of blood-lust that events like this send into the streets, calling us not up to the better angels of our human nature but to our baser, animal instincts. I am sad that flashpoint events like this draw us like moth to flame to expressions of easy, cheap patriotism that not only avoid but incriminate any who try to take an honest look at the real reasons why others in the world might look at us with fear and loathing. I am sad wondering what my friend Mohammed in Iraq is thinking of us right now and if his own loathing of America is being stoked even further.

I am empathetic.

I am empathetic for the people who have suffered much at bin Laden's hands and the joy and relief they feel. I feel for the people who have been hit hard by any number of other things -- the economy, racial discrimination, etc. -- who are using this as an opportunity to have some kind of celebration about something, to "feel good again." I have empathy and intellectual respect for the pragmatists who state with certainty that just as Dietrich Bonhoeffer was right to work for Hitler's death, there is justice and even greater good in murder sometimes. I see what they are saying and understand why they might feel as they do ... even if I don't believe or feel the same way myself.

I am relieved and hopeful.

I am relieved that what seemed like an interminable manhunt for him can finally end. I am hopeful that the President will take this opportunity to draw down our military presence in Afghanistan. I am hopeful that we can use this to move past the 9/11 mentality that has turned all Muslims into suspects and enemies in the eyes of many. I am hopeful that Jon Stewart is right that this, combined with the relatively peaceful revolutions in places like Egypt, will signal that groups like Al Qaeda are done and that the new voice of change in the Arab world is the voices of the young people in the streets calling for democracy.

I am resigned and cynical.

I am hearing the words of Gandhi that "an eye for an eye only makes the whole world blind" and that this will just be one more chapter in the seemingly endless cycle of violence. I am readying myself for disappointment that the President's real instinct for peace will be shouted out by the tremendous monetary interests invested in war that he believes he needs to please to get re-elected. I am doubtful of our own ability to learn from history and not continually repeat it.

And no, I'm not trying to be politic and give everyone something to agree with me on. I am genuinely all these things and probably many more. Even though it is not good messaging or marketing or what some people would view as "strong leadership," I am genuinely filled with conflicting emotions and it seems best just to be honest about that. If it matters to you at all where I am with all this, well, this is where I am right now. I don't know where I will be tomorrow or next week or next month. But in the eyes of the world, I don't think that matters ... because we will have moved on to the next shiny thing. And people will be reacting to it ... and reacting to the reactions ... and so on ... and so on.

So more than anything, I am wondering what has become of reflection instead of reaction. As someone who wants to proclaim the Gospel, do I have to conform to the speed-of-light pace of Facebook, Twitter and CNN? Do I have to come up with a 140-character or less opinion that I can broadcast immediately while we still have people's attention? Is that just part of being a dean ... or a priest ... or a Christian ... today?

Maybe it is. But I don't think so. Maybe the witness we have every time a major event happens isn't diving to our keyboards but falling to our knees. Maybe it isn't just being the faith-based version of the reactive cable news pundits but inviting people to join us in a place where we can "be still and know that God is God." Where we remember that "God's ways are not our ways and God's thoughts our thoughts." Where with Elijah, we realize we don't find God in the whirlwind and the fire and the noise but in the "sound of sheer silence."

I think about our life together at Christ Church Cathedral. We are a diverse group of diverse opinions and backgrounds and experiences. I get challenged by different views pretty much daily and I'm pretty much at my worst when I react immediately to them. But I find when I turn them over in my heart and mind. When I take them to God in prayer. When I probe deeper in conversation. When I reach for a wisdom that is greater than our own and look for God in that "sound of sheer silence" ... I begin to change. I begin to let God change me through you. I begin to become something different. And I think that something different is more like the Body of Christ.

There are some things -- many things -- I have no problem giving an instant reaction to, for good or for ill. I don't need to stop and think about whether women being used in prostitution is bad or whether a lunatic planning to burn a Koran is something that should be condemned. But often .. even most of the time ... the world is more complex and interesting and nuanced than that. And that's where the world really needs to stop and turn away from the whirlwind, flame and noise and listen for the still, small voice of the divine. And that's where I pray we can take the time to fall to our knees, listen deeply, love deeply, and reach for the wisdom to channel it.

in Christ's love,

Mike+

"The Peace of Christ be always with you." -- a sermon for the Second Sunday of Easter

2011-05-01T11:37:00.000-07:00

Preached by the Very Rev. Mike Kinman at Christ Church Cathedral on Sunday, May 1, 2011

The peace of Christ be always with you.

And also with you.

“The peace of Christ be always with you.”

And also with you.

“The peace of Christ be always with you.”

And also with you.

It's pretty much a reflex, isn't it. An automatic response. I think it's just human nature. Part of how we're wired. We can take the most profound things and through sheer repetition, turn them into just this reflex response.

When we leave the house each morning:

"Love you."

"Love you, too!"

And we don't even think about how much it means until that spouse or partner is gone or the child has grown and has moved away.

“Take care of yourself”

"You, too."

It’s just a throwaway line until someone we love is in an accident or is diagnosed with cancer ... And then we realize how much we really mean it. You are precious and fragile. Take care of yourself. Please!

And then there’s this one: The peace of Christ be always with you.

And also with you.

It’s easy for it to turn into the churchy version of the captain turning off the fasten seatbelt sign. Bing. You are now free to move about the church - until we begin our final descent into the Eucharist.

Except ... somehow not here. Here at Christ Chirch Cathedral we have an instinctual sense that this isn’t some throwaway line. There is an energy and urgency and a joy to the peace here. And that’s how it should be. Because the peace is not just a halftime whistle. This morning we hear Jesus say, “Peace be with you.” three times. And it's not just his way of saying, "Hey ... Whassup?" He’s letting the disciples and us know what kind of community we are supposed to be with one another.

You see, the word for peace here is the Greek word eirene. Eirene is better translated as harmony. And it’s not just just an absence of conflict but something incredibly active. You gotta work for it. Like singers in a choir who have to listen deeply to each other so their different voices can blend into beauty, the peace of Christ happens when we listen and work together to create something far more beautiful than we could on our own or just with voices in our own range.

The peace of Christ isn’t just passively tolerating each other in that false virtue of “you can be who you are … over there … and I can be who I am … over here … and we’ll just stay out of each other’s way.” No, it’s when we actively seek out those who are most different from us, those whom we have the most conflict with, and get right in each other’s faces and say “I am not letting you go. Because God has put something in you that I need to be whole. And God has put something in me that you need to be whole.”

The peace of Christ is hard. It’s hard because it goes against this deep instinct we have to avoid conflict by gravitating just toward people who are like us. After all, it’s so much easier that way. We imagine everyone can be happy and nobody gets hurt and God knows it’s nowhere near as messy when we all basically agree and nobody makes anyone else too uncomfortable. And certainly in a world where we all have enough challenges without seeking out new ones, that kind of thinking and living can be really, really tempting.

But that kind of peace, the kind that is just a segregated absence of conflict is not the peace of Christ but a false peace. And we have seen what it does.

It is the same false peace that led to nearly a century of Jim Crow and so-called “separate but equal” laws in this country. That led to the formation of churches like All Saints in North St. Louis when people of color came to churches like Christ Church Cathedral and were told, “wouldn’t you be more comfortable over at your own church over there.” When it was never the comfort of the black people that was the issue. It is the quest for the same false peace that gay and lesbian people still hear in many other churches of “you’d probably be happier at the Cathedral or Trinity.” It is the quest for the same false peace that leads us in our worst moments to throw nasty looks at the two-year old who is who is just being a fidgety two year old in worship or to sigh and shift away from the person who has spent the night on the street. This makes me uncomfortable, so it's best for everyone if we just keep our distance from each other.

But that peace is not the peace of Christ. And we know it. We know it because almost all of us have chosen every Sunday to drive past churches that are closer and more homogenous that this one to come to a place where we really are a glorious mixed bag of different ages, races, tastes, classes, sexual orientations. You name it, we’ve got it, we ARE it! But yet even though we have chosen to be here, we are still so subject to the temptation to reach for the false peace. To even in this diverse community gravitate toward just being with a subset that is most like us. To segregate into interest groups and to lobby against one another to get the ministry or the liturgy that most suits us.

And left to ourselves, I wouldn’t expect anything different. It’s human nature. But as I’ve said so many times before, Jesus meets and loves us as we are, but Jesus never leaves us the way we are. Jesus didn’t go into that locked room where the disciples were huddled together in their little like-minded subset and say, “It’s OK, I love you. You can just stay here and I’ll drop in and visit once a week.” No, he said, “peace be with you. As the father has sent me, so I send you.” Go out into the world that is different and challenging and risky, and seek out the gift that otherness has for you and give the gift your otherness has for them. Create the harmony that only comes when very different voices are blended together.

I am convinced that is Christ’s dream for us as his beloved community. It is the peace of Christ. And it is exquisite harmony that comes from the hard work of loving, listening and being deeply engaged with one another. It is coming together in all our blessed difference to embrace the holy habits that shape us as Christians – the habits of prayer, worship, study, service and stewardship. It is coming together in all our blessed difference to lay down our lives and agendas for one another and for the world.

It is why we have a group now working on tracing our history with race at Christ Church Cathedral. It is why we have an oral history project group forming to learn to capture and tell the stories and history of the diverse peoples of this Cathedral. And it is a big part of why, three weeks ago, I announced that I was seriously considering consolidating our Sunday morning from three services to two, and indeed starting on Pentecost, June 12, that is what we are going to do.

I had someone say to me, “I just don’t see what problem you are trying to solve with this!” And if you feel that way, I really get it. Because on one level, everything might seem just fine the way it is. There are ways that our current Sunday structure keeps us in peace, blissfully separate but equal, able to spread out and choose not to be as challenged or shaped by each other’s “otherness.”

But it in the end that is a false peace that is not worthy of us. In the end, that is a song that will fall far short of the harmony we are capable of singing. And so the past three weeks I have tried to model what I believe Christ calls us all to do. I have listened deeply to you. I have prayed A LOT. And I have set a course that I believe is the best for embracing not the peace of the absence of conflict but the Peace of Christ. To come together and most fully become the diverse and challenging and beloved community that Christ dreams for us

Starting June 12, at 8 o’clock, there will be a Rite I, said service in Bofinger Chapel. At 10 o’clock, there will be a Rite II, choral Eucharist in the Nave, with a separate liturgy of the Word offered in the chapel for children with everyone back together for the Eucharist. And beginning the fall, in between the two, from 9 – 9:45, there will be opportunities for all of us of all ages to participate in Christian education.

For those of you who have been with us the past two summers this will be very familiar and thats no accident. We've discovered that coming together like this works. Its just that when fall comes, this year, we're going to keep on doing it.

But there will be some new things. The 8 o’clock service is being moved because what we are doing in worship is coming together as a community. And where we are a community of 25, we can come together better in a space that seats 40-50 rather than one that seats 350-400. If that service outgrows the chapel and gets to the point where we are regularly reaching 80% capacity, we’ll move it back to a space that fits it better.

You spoke with a loud voice that you far preferred a later start time than I had proposed … with Christian education in between the two services. That’s great, and I’m happy to make that shift. But coming together not just for worship but for Christian education – for learning about our faith, learning about how we can support each other in those holy habits of prayer, worship, study, service and stewardship. That’s not some optional extra but a huge part of us learning how to live our faith … how coming here on Sunday becomes not just a quick hit of prayer and worship but an ongoing experience that changes who we are.

Amy, our Sunday School teachers and Nancy Kinney and the Adult formation committee are committed to providing excellent chances to come together learn from one another and grow in our faith. With this new structure for Sundays there should be no barriers for anyone participating. And it's important for us to. And so I look forward to seeing you there.

Finally, the Chapter and many of you spoke loudly about three things to do with our new principal service, which will be at 10 am.

1) That the liturgical style and music build on the strength of our wonderful music program.
2) That we be open to a greater diversity in music that reflects the diversity of this community.
3) That we more greatly embrace the presence of children and youth in church, including additional "Rules of Respect" for how children should be welcomed.

I loved hearing this from you because not only are these things possible and exciting, they are about just this kind of coming together Jesus challenges us to embrace when he stands among us and says “Peace be with you!” How can we take our diverse strengths and talents and let God use us and them to create expressions of deep beauty.

I am entrusting Amy to work with Pat Partridge and others to craft a liturgy that embraces all of this. Not some lowest common denominator worship that tries to please everyone and ends up muting our best gifts but an expression of worship that helps us look deeply and fully at one another – particularly at those of us who are most challenging to each other – and to offer the best of that to God.

Be not afraid! We’re going to have fun figuring this out. And we’re going to learn from each other and we’re going to learn about one another. And yeah, it’s going to be messy at times, and yeah, there is going to be conflict. But that’s OK. Because there is no conflict we can’t love each other through, no height of harmony we cannot attain if we remember to keep coming together each week and seeking out those whose otherness is our greatest gift.

If we remember to keep doing what we do best … looking each other in the eyes and joyfully embracing each other with the words that are among Christ’s greatest gifts to us.

The peace of Christ be always with you.

"Something touched me deep inside..." -- a sermon for Lent 5A

2011-04-10T11:29:00.000-07:00

(Played over the speakers from Don McLean’s version)

A long, long time ago
I can still remember how that music used to make me smile
And I knew if I had my chance.
That I could make those people dance
And maybe they’d be happy for awhile
But February made me shiver
With every paper I’d deliver
Bad news on the doorstep
I couldn’t take one more step
I can’t remember if I cried when I read about his widowed bride
But something touched me deep inside
The day the music died.

(The congregation sings along together)

So bye, bye, Miss American Pie
Drove my Chevy to the levy but the levy was dry
And them good ole’ boys were drinking whiskey and rye
Singing “This’ll be the day that I die.
This’ll be the day that I die.”

In the name of the three that I admire most: The Father, The Son and the Holy Ghost – Amen.

Jesus wept.

For some of us, that’s not as easy as it sounds.

One of the common strands that binds White America together, is that we are absolutely awful at weeping. I don’t know why that is, but it is. Maybe it’s something handed down from our ancestors … people like my British grandparents. When my uncle Jack’s plane was shot down and he was killed in World War II, they did the British thing. They quietly shut the door of his bedroom and just didn’t speak of it. And Jack’s grave went unvisited until my father made his own solitary trek there 50 years later.

And really, it is a White America phenomenon. Broadly speaking – and of course there are exceptions – this isn’t a malady that effects Black America. I don’t know if that’s because those of us who are black have had so much more to grieve about as a people, so much more raw pain that there doesn’t seem to be much point in holding it back. Or maybe there’s a piece of ancestral legacy, too.

But America’s black roots give us a whole musical tradition of deep pain -- the blues. John Lee Hooker. Elmore James. Bessie Smith. I think that’s where the phrase “they could really wail!” must come from, because that’s what the blues does … it reaches deep into the heart of pain and just lets it pour on out. Wails like a mother after her child. And just like the brightness of Easter has everything to do with the darkness of Good Friday. Gospel music draws its glorious power not from some naïve and Pollyanna hope, but from truly singing the blues, truly walking through that valley of the shadow of death and there finding God is there to comfort.

When John’s Gospel tells us “Jesus wept,” White America gets uncomfortable. So uncomfortable that the largely white scholars who gave us the New Revised Standard Version of the Bible softened the language to “Jesus began to weep.” Like somehow he just started but don’t worry, he didn’t really cry. White America hears “Jesus wept” and gets nervous. That doesn’t sound like a strong leader. That doesn’t sound like something I’d be comfortable doing in front of a big group of people.

Black America hears “Jesus wept” and says, “Yep … that sounds about right to me.”

I think that’s why Don McLean’s American Pie has such a special and lasting place in White America. In many ways, it is White America’s national song of lament.
A lament sung by a people who confuse stoicism and silence with strength.

A lament sung by a people who tend to cry and tremble only when we’re alone and when no one else can see. Who instead just smile and turn away.

American Pie is a lament not so much for Buddy Holly, Ritchie Valens, the Big Bopper and the plane crash that took their lives, but a lament for the death of what seemed like a golden age of simplicity and innocence … at least for those of us who didn’t have to worry about being on the wrong side of the Jim Crow South.

And of course, we as the Episcopal Church have been shaped by that dominant White America culture. I was taught in seminary that funerals are supposed to be services of the resurrection … and that my job as a priest was to put on a white stole and talk about Easter, never mind if we hadn’t given ourselves a chance to really be in Good Friday … I guess that’s something we’re supposed to do somewhere else. At home. By ourselves. In private.

And yet … Jesus wept. Think about that for a second. It’s not that Jesus, of all people, is afraid of death or is somehow robbed of his faith in the face of death. I mean, he’s just finished saying “I am the resurrection and the life.” Saying “Hey, I wrote the book of love and I have faith in God above!” And yet with bad news on the doorstep, he couldn’t take one more step. Something touches him deep inside and he weeps for his friend who has died. He allows himself to be in that place of grief, to sing the blues, deeply, publicly … so much so that even the first reaction of the Jewish authorities who were reaching the crescendo of their persecution of him was to be moved themselves and say, “Wow. See how he loved him!”

John’s Gospel tells us “Jesus wept.” Perhaps the most powerful two words in scripture. But most of my experience of us doing the same thing in the church is when people come up to me and either apologize for their tears

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to cry”

or talk about how grateful they are that they didn’t, like they dodged some terrible bullet.

“Wow. That almost had me in tears there for a second.”

Man, that’s like us saying, "Oh, I'm so sorry something happened here that actually moved me ... that actually put me in touch with my pain in a way that has some integrity. Oh, I'm so sorry that something real happened here. In us. In me."

We’ve gotta get over that!

The story of the raising of Lazarus is a story of great hope, but the hope has its roots not in Jesus’ cry of “Lazarus, come out!” but in the tears he shed as he cried before that tomb. A Jesus who weeps is a Jesus who stands among us and tells us that weeping isn’t a sign of weakness or lack of faith. That weeping is about being deeply human and about being deeply moved by the genuinely hard and even tragic things that happen to all of us in life. About letting something touch us deep inside on those days when it feels like the music has died.

Someone once said that the difference between false faith and true faith is that false faith says, ‘Do not worry; that which you fear will not happen to you,’ and true faith says, ‘Do not fear, that which you fear may well happen to you, but it is nothing to fear.”

A Jesus who weeps tells us that life in Christ is not about a stiff upper lip and fearfully closing the door on those things that seem unbearably painful. On the contrary, life in Christ is about weeping openly and together in our grief, resisting the temptation to lash out at each other from it. Opting instead to carry each other through it. It’s about weeping long and hard and together when we need to, but it is not about weeping forever. Because even as we weep, it’s about trusting in a Christ who even as he weeps with us has the power to call life out of death and unbind what is bound.

Yes, as our funeral liturgy says, we are people of the resurrection. But that cannot happen unless we also embrace being people of the crucifixion. To name that which is dying and which has died. What or who has died for you? What or who is dying in your life right now? We need name those things not just in the silence of our hearts or alone in our room but together. To shed tears not just alone but together and to hold onto each other through the darkest of nights. But then, even as we still weep, to join with Jesus in singing a different end to the song than what the world would have us sing.

To respond when people hear us singing the blues that we actually do have some happy news, and not just smile and turn away. To invite people into this sacred store where we’ve heard the music years before and say yes, the music will still play.

And when in the streets the children scream, the lovers cry and the poets dream, we will proclaim another word has been spoken. That the church bells have not been broken. And that the three that we admire most … the Father, the Son and the Holy Ghost … have not caught the last train for the coast, because this music has not died.

And because of that we -- black, white, comfortable with grief, uncomfortable with grief – all of us can weep and not be afraid. We can trust that no matter how dry the levee seems, there will never ever be a day the songs we sing in this place fade away. And we can trust that when the time comes, knowing it is never the end, we can stand with Jesus and sing, not without pain, but without fear and with great hope: “This’ll be the day that I die.”

AMEN.

Coming together on Sunday morning at Christ Church Cathedral

2011-04-10T11:17:00.000-07:00

The Very Rev. Mike Kinman delivered these remarks to all three services on Sunday, April 10.

I want to take just a minute or so to keep you informed of some changes I am looking at in our Sunday morning structure and what the next steps are in that process.

Ever since I arrived as your provost, I have been trying to make our worship life together the best it can be to praise God with excellence, to be inviting to people of all generations, and to promote the life and growth of this Cathedral community. We’ve tried several different things and we have learned from all of them. Over the past several months, it’s become more and more clear to me that the best way to get to that place of excellence, accessibility for all generations and growth, is to consolidate our Sunday morning schedule. So I am in a process of consulting with and listening to a broad range of people as I consider doing just that.

Right now, we are a community of 250 or so people on a Sunday spread across three services in a space that seats 350-400. That scatteredness not only encourages division in the congregation, it actually impedes the growth of any one service.

It also ignores the fact that one of our greatest strengths as a Cathedral community is just that – this Cathedral community. We are a church that LOVES being together. You’ve just seen it. In our liturgy, the moment of highest energy is the Peace -- we literally launch out of our chairs to embrace each other! We flock to opportunities to be together. We are at our best and strongest when we are gathered in one place as one Body. This has been borne out the past two summers when we have gone to one primary service – and we felt the energy of having the church full and everyone together.

We are the Cathedral of the Diocese of Missouri, which means we must set the standard for excellence in worship for all ages and people. As your dean, it is my job to set the structures for doing that, and as Vicar it is Amy’s job to fashion that liturgy. Those jobs are sacred trusts … which means that you can trust us only to make the decisions we believe are best for the life of this Cathedral and you can also trust us to listen deeply to you in that process. And that is what we have been and will continue to be doing.

Over the past several months, I have engaged in a consultative process with Amy, Pat Partridge, the Executive Committee of Chapter and others in the congregation. Out of that process, I am right now persuaded that what is best for us as a congregation is to have two services on Sunday mornings. The first, an early, more meditative Rite I service in Bofinger Chapel, where the space will better suit the size of the congregation. The primary service a Rite II choral Eucharist much like the principal service we have had in the summers, but with a separate liturgy of the word for children and youth, with all of us together for the celebration of the Eucharist.

The next step in this process will be a conversation at this Thursday night’s Chapter meeting where I will listen to the voices of your elected representatives. I have not made any concrete decision yet and I am still listening, thinking and praying … particularly in terms of what time is best for this main liturgy not just to promote its growth but to promote the growth of our Sunday School and adult Christian formation programs.

I am happy to meet with any of you face to face to talk about this and I will be available after the service today. Please do not email me or Facebook message me or leave blog comments with your opinions about this. Liturgical changes are exciting and also deeply effect the life of a community. And I think we’ve all experienced that email is a not the best medium for anything with deep emotional content.

My plan is to announce my decision on Sunday, May 1, and to have any change go into effect on Pentecost Sunday, June 12. Finally, I ask your prayers as I make this decision and ask us all to approach this with the spirit of grace and adventure I have seen so often in our time together. Thank you.

Mike+

"Get up, and do not be afraid." -- A sermon for the Last Sunday after Epiphany

2011-03-06T12:22:00.000-08:00

Preached by the Very Rev. Mike Kinman at Christ Church Cathedral on Sunday, March 6, 2011

About 25 years ago, when I was growing up in Tucson, there was a girl named Jeanne. Jeanne stole my heart in that way that can only happen when you’re 15 or 16 years old. That way that turns your stomach into a butterfly sanctuary. Maybe it was because she was just so adorable standing as she did just a shade under five feet tall. Or maybe it was her flaming red hair or her devilish smile. Or maybe it was the way she could tease me and make me feel good about myself at the same time. There’s probably no use trying to figure it out. I mean, I was 15, so how much logic could be involved, right?

It was clear pretty quickly that Jeanne and I weren’t going to end up together … at least not in the romantic way I wanted. She had a string of other crushes and it was clear pretty quickly I had taken up permanent residence in that dreaded “friend” category. But she was so kind and so sincere that something rare and special happened. My crush turned into deep affection and that affection turned into friendship. And so when I went off to Mizzou and she went off to Arizona State, we kept in touch – which in the days before Facebook, texting and free long distance meant actual handwritten letters and the occasional very expensive phone call.

Jeanne and I shared everything. I shared my freshman year homesickness and my joy at having a great roommate and finding a wonderful church in Columbia. She told me about her battles with her parents and this cute guy she liked who was a cook at the restaurant where she was waitressing.

This long distance friendship continued through college. She even came out to visit me once, and I always tried to see her when I was home. Then one day in our junior year a particularly long letter came. After a page or so of small talk and teasing me about my life among the cows in Missouri, she told me I needed to sit down because she had some news to share. Jeanne was pregnant.

I scanned the rest of the letter as I picked up the phone. Jeanne answered and the tears began. She said loved the father and she was going to keep the baby, but she wasn’t even 21 yet. And most of all she was terrified to tell her dad.

Jeanne’s father was imposing. Not because he towered over you – he was only a little taller than Jeanne. But he was rock solid and a commanding presence that probably stemmed from his time in army during the Korean War. He was the kind of man you called sir without thinking because part of you was afraid of what happened if you didn’t. He was stern and strict and when you saw the twinkle in his eye you realized you had had to work to earn it. Mostly, he loved his daughters with the ferocity of God in the Old Testament. With the kind of love that would utterly destroy their enemies, but would also demand obedience and loyalty.

Jeanne adored her father. And more than anything else, more than the prospect of being a teenage mom, or trying to finish school and carry a child, she was terrified of sharing this news with him. She was afraid of what he would do. She was afraid of what it would do to their relationship. She was afraid she wouldn’t be his little girl anymore.

So Jeanne did what most people would do. She put it off as long as possible. She wasn’t going to be showing for awhile, so she told herself she could wait for just the right moment. Only a few weeks later she began to have some abdominal pain and her roommate took her to the hospital and in a fit of worry, called her parents.

Jeanne ended up being fine and was furious at her roommate, but she also knew the moment had come. So as she walked into the emergency room waiting room where her parents were standing, she screwed up her courage, took a deep breath, walked up to her father and said the words she had been dreading to say.

Dad, I’m pregnant.

Jeanne’s father paused for a second, stone-faced, as the words sunk in. Jeanne wanted to melt into the floor. She was paralyzed by fear. What words were about to come thundering down on her head? Or worse, would he say nothing and turn away. His pause was only a second, but to her it felt like hours.

What broke it first was not his booming voice or him turning on his heel but almost imperceptibly, and perhaps only visible to a beloved daughter the twinkle in his eye. The look of love. Then this man who had ordered men into battle and who had ruled his family like a platoon opened his arms and said to his little girl: “Give me a hug.” And he reached out and touched her. And Jeanne knew that there was nothing to fear. That even though the road ahead would be hard, that the life she had planned for herself was never going to happen the way she had thought, that even though she had no idea how to be a mother, unmarried at age 20. As she felt her father’s arms close around her, she knew that whatever the road ahead held she could do it because she was not alone.

It’s the Sunday before Lent again … and for reasons that have never been really clear to me, just like every year, this year once again, we hear the Gospel story of the Transfiguration.

We need to remember that Matthew is written for a Jewish audience so we need to put those ears on when we hear it. And there are lots of parallels Matthew’s listeners would have heard to the Old Testament reading for this Sunday, which is Moses receiving the 10 commandments. In both cases, the power of God is revealed after six days, which like creation, gives what happens the sense of consummation or completion. In both cases this revelation of God comes on a mountain top and out of a cloud – because you aren’t able to look God in the face and live. In both cases, what happens defines the relationship God will have with the people. But there the similarities end.

In the Exodus story, the takeaway for Moses and the people of Israel is a set of rules for the community – the 10 commandments. God’s message to the people is “Follow me by following the rules. If you follow the rules, and do what I say, we’re OK and good things will happen. If you don’t follow the rules and don’t do what I say, not only will bad things happen, you’re going to be on your own when they do.”

But something different happens on this mountain in Matthew’s Gospel. There’s a shift in God’s relationship with the people. Before, God’s power was to be cowered from, and fear was actually a part of faithfulness. Before, God’s presence was housed in a place – the temple – and part of faithfulness was building and tending to that Temple. Before, God’s presence was mediated through kings and rules. And part of faithfulness was following the law and listening to the prophets knowing that if you did you would be right with God.

And Peter knows this. That’s why Peter is being faithful when Moses and Elijah appear with Jesus and he says “let us build three dwellings … one for you, one for Moses and one for Elijah.” That’s what you do with God. You build God a house. You follow God’s rules. And above all, you never look God in the face, you never touch God, you always fear God … lest ... ye ... die.

But God is doing something different in Jesus. Peter is expecting more rules, but what he gets is something entirely unexpected. Something as unexpected to him as when Jesus said that he must go to Jerusalem and undergo great suffering at the hands of the elders and chief priests and scribes, and be killed, and on the third day be raised. What Peter, James and John get isn’t more rules but a relationship.

When Moses came down the mountain, he had a set of rules for the community. When Jesus and his disciples came down the mountain, they had a person ... Jesus. God's message in Exodus was "follow me by following these commandments." God's message here is "This is my Son, the Beloved ... listen to HIM." God’s call to them and to us is not just to follow rules, but to be in relationship with Jesus. To believe in and follow the Beloved and thus to become the Beloved. This is Jesus "who came not to abolish the law and the prophets but to fulfill them."

Matthew tells us that when Peter, James and John heard the voice of God “they fell to the ground and were overcome by fear.” They knew they were sinners. They knew how many of the rules they had broken. They knew the power of God to devastate or abandon them. And they were terrified, and who wouldn’t be?

I wonder how long the disciples stayed cowering in fear? It was probably only a moment but I’m sure it seemed like hours. It must have seemed like hours before Jesus did what God never does … reached out his arms and touched them, and with a twinkle in his eye said “Get up and don’t be afraid.” Said, it’s OK … Give me a hug.

We usually think of this event as the transfiguration because of Jesus shiny new white outfit. But what was really transfigured. What was really changed forever was Jesus relationship with his disciples and his disciples’ lives. When they came down the mountain, they began the road toward Jerusalem – toward that suffering and death. But they knew then they could walk that road, no matter what it had in store for them, because they could feel Jesus’ arms around them and they knew they would not be walking it alone. They knew that their relationship with God had moved beyond just following the family rules to sharing a life … and that because they were in it together even the powers of death could not prevail against them.

What happened on that mountain, what happened in that waiting room and what God longs to give us is the transfiguring power of love. It’s a power that certainly can be expressed in faithfulness to boundaries and rules but can never be contained by them. It is the power of grace that overcomes fear. The power of standing with and embracing in the midst of pain that doesn’t make life easier or the pain magically go away but opens up possibilities of new life coming from it. And whether in the form of a father embracing his little girl or a savior touching a cowering disciple, or a hug at the peace or a phone call just to check in, it the power to change lives and transform worlds.

The road from that mountain led to the cross, but it did not end there. And even though Peter denied Jesus three times and the disciples fled in fear from Calvary, the transfiguring power of love was so strong they were all back together again to hear the resurrected Christ say “and remember, I am with you always, even to the end of the age.”

The road from that waiting room was bumpy, too. Jeanne had a little girl, Nicole, who I’m proud to call her my goddaughter. Nicole’s father ended up becoming a cocaine addict and Jeanne was left as a single mom … but never alone. She had as doting a grandfather as ever walked the earth keeping mother and daughter under his watchful eye. Jeanne finished her degree at ASU, and today is married with three other children. Nicole turned 21 last October, graduated college and works at a library in Phoenix. And if you ask Jeanne how she did it, she’ll think of her parents, her husband, her friends, and her kids she’ll say simply one word: Love.

As we head down the mountain into Lent, down the road that leads to the cross and beyond, this year think of Lent not in terms of giving up or taking on, but touching and being touched. Of embracing and not fearing. Of walking together not tackling alone.

As we head down this mountain into Lent, what road are you on? What rules have you broken? Whom have you disappointed? Of what or whom are you afraid? Where do you long for the touch of Christ but fear to share that truth of your life that gives Jesus the opening to reach out to you? Who in your life needs that twinkle in your eye, that touch of your hand … those calm, loving words of “get up and do not be afraid.”

AMEN.

"Being a Baker" -- Sixth Sunday after the Epiphany

2011-02-13T18:56:00.000-08:00

Preached by the Rev. Francis X. Walter at Christ Church Cathedral on Sunday, February 13, 2011

One of the people who formed my life in Christ was Father Michael Scott. I met this spare, gentle, Anglican Priest in 1958, at the General Theological Seminary in New York City. I was 25 years old.

Father Scott was then exercising his ministry in the territory of Southwest Africa---at that time under the punishing rule of the racist Union of South Africa.
Michael Scott was a principal actor in the liberation of Southwest Africa which became the independent nation of Namibia.

Please bear with me: Just a bit more background on Namibia.

After World War One the Treaty of Versailles parcelled out chunks of Africa to the Allies. Great Britain got the former German colony of Southwest Africa. The Brits entrusted it to their colony, the Union of South Africa, which shared a border with it.

Under the Treaty, South Africa was to develop the territory and lead it to independence. South Africa proceeded to plunder its resources and inflict great suffering on its native population. Recourse under international law lay with the United Nations, but South Africa would not allow any subjects of Southwest Africa to leave the Territory to lobby the United Nations.

Michael Scott, as a white subject of Great Britain, living in the Territory, was free to come and go. Which he began to do, petitioning the UN for redress and gaining allies in Great Britain and America.

I met him while he was at the UN because General Seminary, where I was in residence, gave him free room and board.

At this time our government only allowed him to go back and forth on designated streets. He was considered a threat to the United States because he and his father had both served London East End poor parishes and supported the labor organizing efforts of their parishioners.
(Pause)
His slot car paths were laid out by the McCarran/Walter Act of 1952, which rewrote immigration codes and made it possible--I’d say--to label most anybody a security risk.

I was drawn to Father Scott because I needed advice and support, for I was to return to Alabama to confront a segregated diocese of segregated churches under the domination of sly or blinded white men.

During one of our talks Fr. Scott asked me if I would be a gofer for him at the UN when he had to be out of the country. WOULD I! With my UN pass I sat in on committee meetings, and-- to me--most fun of all sat alone in the bowels of the UN Building transcribing material from vinyl 16 1/2 rpm records the size of giant pizzas.

In addition, my name appeared on the invite list of various groups
working for racial and social justice. So I met the likes of Eleanor Roosevelt, the Reverend Fred Shuttlesworth, Langston Hughes, Allen Crite, Carl and Ann Braden. And even heard Miriam Makeba sing right after she was slipped into the country from South Africa.
(Pause)
Me, a Mobile boy! Eating high on the hog.
Thanks be to God who saved me from being a total social justice groupie.
(Pause)
As St. Paul told us, it is God who gives growth, not identifying with luminaries. So I never said, “I belong to Father Scott, or Paul, or Apollos.”
(Pause)
In 1958, Fr. Scott gave me a copy of his autobiography, "A Time to Speak", inscribing it:
“With gratitude and all best wishes for your work in Alabama.”
He told me a story--stories teach, stories form us.
Once in South Africa in a small Boer settlement--late in the evening--he was visiting in the home of a farmer. A farmer with fair skin, blond hair and blue eyes. The farmer could not see black people as truly human.

Fr. Scott struggled to respond; as he hesitated he saw on the wall a picture of Jesus--Jesus with fair skin, blond hair, and blue eyes. What he felt was compassion for the man. No arguments, no anger, no contention. But how difficult it is to see others as unenlightened opponents, not enemies, and find a measure of compassion, not a need to attack.
I thank you God for that story. But how difficult it is to see Jesus in our opponents and feel a measure of compassion, instead of seeing enemies and feelng all-consuming hatred.

Under the line “Best Wishes for your work in Alabama, he copied two lines from T. S. Eliot’s poem, “East Coker:”
“For us there is only the trying.
The rest is not our business.” (Pause)
That complements a quote from Dietrick Boehoeffer hanging by our bedroom door:
“The figure of the crucified invalidates all thought which takes success for its standard.’
(Pause)
Now, those two ideas will take you a long way! Food for wayfarers walking with Christ. (Pause)

All this about Fr. Scott prepares you, I hope, to appreciate a paragraph from "A time to Speak". He is recalling his early work as a Vicar in London’s East End.
“Gradually I was becoming aware that over and above the recognized denominations of Christianity and apart from the innumerable little sects into which Christendom had become divided, there were two kinds of Christianity: There was the religion which was the divine sanction of the status quo, and there was the religion which was the divine instrument of change. No doubt all the truth was not to be found in either exclusively. There was the conception of the salt as the preservative of all that had been accomplished by the human spirit in the past and which also gave it savour, and there was also the idea of the leaven which slowly, imperceptibly, but dramatically, transformed the whole lump. Some of the great persecutions of the Christian era were no doubt due to the deep resentment and resistance of the lump to the process of being leavened and its seeking blindly and ruthlessly to extirpate the cause of change at whatever cost to itself.”
(Pause)

What images!
The preserving, flavor giving Salt. Ours to apply to all that is holy from ages past, and all in the present worth keeping.

And then the Lump. The Lump comes across like a Disney cartoon character: writhing, struggling to expel from itself the transforming yeast. Hating the change going on inside it.

I love Scott’s words about that oppositional lump: BLINDLY, RUTHLESSLY. “At whatever cost to ITSELF.” Fighting the change that will make it a delicious loaf of bread so that maybe, maybe, even someone new, needy and innocent of Jesus Christ, will come in off the street for a taste and stay to feast.

Here we are: salt in one hand, packet of live yeast in the other: (pause)
WHICH to apply, when? How much?

I don’t have to spend time suggesting how to apply salt. The Episcopal Church has got that aced--Give us a ten-year-old tradition, and we’ll salt it down, the more irrelevant the better. Pink candle the third Sunday in Advent? What’s that mean? I don’t know! Let’s make up a tradition! Salt that sucker down! Church supply houses glad to oblige!

But as to bubbly, fermenting yeast? When to add? How much? How to get it in the lump; the lump just sitting there oblivious to the injustice, cruelty and irrelevance it fosters by its inertia.

First, let’s be clear as to where yeast can go. Three places:
1. Into us as individuals--we can grow in Christ by adding yeast to ourselves.
2. Into small to middling groups, like this Cathedral family. Stirred in by its own members--as I know you do.
3. Into great movements of social justice, set to move a nation, the world.
Always these three, never just one or two.
(Pause)
The Gospel reading today is about things not to do. But it has advice all the same for yeast bringers. (From now on let’s call them/us “bakers.”)
Bakers looking to add some yeast should look first into their own hearts before messing with a lump. What motivates us? Are our aims as pure as we can make them? Murder has a forerunner in the heart says the Lord: anger; killing has origins: name calling.

Are rage and dehumanizing our opponents infecting our yeast? Jesus says, “If so, take action:” He uses some semitic hyperbole to say it: If a hand or eye needs to go--CUT IT OFF. In English we can more politely say, “If there are occasions that make you murderous, avoid them.” (Pause)

Bakers won’t find much help from the Deuteronomy Lesson for dealing with tangled social issues.

The children of Israel are at the Jordan River; crossing water is always a decisive act. Moses offers an uncomplicated choice: life and prosperity or death and adversity. The writers of Deuteronomy around 600 BC were given to stark contrasts: It’s black or white, pure or impure, all good or all bad.
(Well, as a culture we’re doing it today. Just look at what some of our politicians say.)

This passage has been beloved of revivalist preachers for over 200 years. They still think there is a big market today for turning hard drinkin’, two
timin’, godless, gamblin’ men into tee-totalling, God fearin’ family men.” Maybe. But I bet most of us in here are baptised, trying, some just a little, some a lot, to follow the Christ who has brought us thus far. So our situation is not black or white, death or life when it comes to the uses of salt and yeast. When it comes to the root causes of social injustice, our social and private demons are not all bad and our angels, social and private, are not all good. It was ever thus. That is why we must pray before we bake and look to the Holy Spirit in the murk of real life.
There is no end of lumps to infuse: racism, violence against minorities, mountain top removal, lack of health care, addiction, exploitation of illegal immigrants, homelessness, on and on.
(pause)
And over all our efforts to leaven and produce fresh bread hangs the pall of never enough and always the reality of the tragic.

Because our efforts to leaven the lump will never in this world completely succeed, never be fully satisfying, never win the praise of everyone.
We can only look beyond at “The pioneer of our faith,” as the writer of Hebrews puts it, the One who stands complete in eternity.

We can only look to Jesus--the Risen One living in us and to His coming kingdom. And work in hope to approximate that Glory. We have to be like the Lord of love. He’s in us. Why? So we can grow into his likeness. To make a sacramental gesture toward justice, truth, peace and mercy--until Kingdom Come and God is All in All.

“For us there is only the trying-
The rest is not our business."

2011 Annual Meeting Address

2011-01-24T07:18:00.000-08:00

Preached by the Very Rev. Mike Kinman at Christ Church Cathedral on Sunday, January 23, 2011

The annual meeting of the 192nd year of Christ Church Cathedral is now called to order.
In the name of the Father, and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit, AMEN.

Sometimes the lectionary just gives us a gift. I didn’t look at what the Gospel text was for today when I set this as the date for the annual meeting, but I can’t imagine a more perfect text for us as we look at the present and future of Christ Church Cathedral.

You see, five key things happen in this Gospel reading, and they correspond to five key points of our life together here at Christ Church Cathedral.

Now, to set the scene, Jesus has just come out of his temptation in the desert and bested the devil himself. And so when we hear the very next words, “When Jesus heard that John had been arrested,” we’ve gotta be thinking, Man, Herod is going to get it. Jesus is going to just open up a can on him. And then we get the rest of the sentence, and this is the first key point of this gospel reading.

When Jesus heard that John had been arrested, he … withdrew to Galilee?

That's right. Confronted with a world that was hostile to the truth he brought and embodied, Jesus didn’t go on the offensive, he didn’t try to overthrow the government or change the world, he withdrew to the outlands. To create the beloved community that was literally Christ centered and Christ sent. That’s the first key point of this Gospel reading.

Second, Jesus didn’t just go anywhere … he withdrew to a land of diverse people – Galilee of the Gentiles; Galilee of the Nations: a community of diversity.

Now, diversity is an opportunity for all sorts of things – good and bad. In fact, if history has told us anything it’s that diversity plus scarcity equals war. So Jesus going into and gathering a diverse community is risky. Only Jesus doesn’t bring scarcity. Jesus brings abundance. Jesus brings the great light that shines in the darkness. Jesus brings the kingdom of heaven, the promise of our own belovedness by God. You can’t get any better than that.

And so we come to the third point. Jesus comes in the midst of this diverse community and invites them to be bound together by a common action – turning away from all the other things they had centered their life on and turning toward the presence of God in him. It is that conscious choice that will literally bind the nations together.

Fourth, Jesus, one by one, begins to assemble this beloved community. But look at how he calls them. In his call of Peter and Andrew, Jesus does two things. First he sees them as they are but also as what he knows they can become. And the two are related. Jesus doesn’t say, “you out there fishing, follow me and I will make you astrophysicists” No, he says, “Fishers, follow me and I will make you fishers of people – I will take this life you know, this person you already are and show you what it can be in ways you probably never even imagined!” It’s an incredible invitation, but as we see its one that also involves incredible dedication and incredible sacrifice.

Finally, the fifth key point. Matthew says that Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people.

Jesus withdrawing to build this beloved community was not a separatist movement. This is a community that is both Christ centered and Christ sent. So even as he is gathering people around himself, they are all out in the world teaching and proclaiming and healing. Showing the world with both word and action that there is a great light that shines in the darkness, a light that can heal every sickness and every disease.

So five key points of this Gospel reading:

1) Jesus withdraws to build the beloved community, a community that is Christ centered and Christ sent.

2) This new community was one of great and intentional diversity – something that is a challenge and an opportunity.

3) What bound this diverse community together was the light of Christ, a light so strong that this broad diversity of people could stand together in turning away from the other things they had followed and follow Jesus instead.

4) This commitment involved conversion. Jesus meets and accepts people as they are but mostly holds out a vision of what they are capable of becoming. And this commitment involves sacrifice and leaving behind old ways to become something new.

5) Being this beloved community was not just being Christ centered but Christ sent. It was an active life of teaching, proclaiming and healing out in the world.

Beloved, this is our story. We can see Christ Church Cathedral alive in every word.

First, we are building the beloved community. A community that is Christ centered and Christ sent. I talked last year about building a foundation. About building deep so we could build tall. That is work that has begun but is not nearly finished. We have been through a lot, and we are coming together in some incredible ways.

We saw it in the wonderful work of the Pope Bequest team that you will hear reported on later this morning. I can’t recall ever seeing a group of people so completely set aside their own agendas and work for the good of the church like this body. There has been a dramatic shift in our Chapter meetings over the past two years as that body has begun to speak the truth to one another in love in wonderful ways, really pray together, really listen to one another. Chapter meetings are open, you should come check one out sometime. After a tumultuous era, we’ve begun the process of treating each other more gently and with greater respect and in a bit, we're going to reaffirm those Rules for Respect we adopted whe I arrived here.. We have begun to talk openly about our finances and have greater transparency in the deliberations and actions of the Cathedral leadership. There has been a slow building and rebuilding of trust in this congregation.

This is work that will not be accomplished in one year or two but is ongoing work that will build on itself year after year. But we’re making a great start. And you all should be proud of yourselves. In fact, I want you to give yourself a hand in celebration for the incredible work you all have done these past two years.

Second, like Galilee of the Nations, this community is one of great and intentional diversity. Most everyone I talk with here when you ask them what they love most about Christ Church Cathedral one of the first things they say is the diversity they see when they look around this room. And that is a joy. But we must remember that diversity is only the raw materials for the kingdom of heaven, not the kingdom itself. We are a diverse people, and in our recent history we have seen that diversity at its best and at its worst. We have seen ourselves band together in joy and turn against each other in anger. For us, grasping the opportunity of diversity means starting with naming and wrestling with our own histories. For example,

*For most of this past decade we have prided ourselves on being an Oasis congregation, intentionally welcoming to gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered people. But what does that mean for us today? Is it just a label? How does this effect who we are?

*We are a congregation founded by slaveowners, yet with a rich history of participating in the civil rights movement and with a vibrant African American and African population today. But are those of us who are of color allowed truly to effect and define the culture and community of Christ Church Cathedral? How does our mixed history with race live on in our life together today?

*We are a Cathedral that for the decade of the 1980s was the seat of a bishop who was an active alcoholic, and alcohol is a big part of our culture both here and throughout this brewery town. How did that effect us then and how are the systems of addiction a part of our present?

We are a wonderfully diverse congregation. All the raw materials are here. But for us to become the beloved community we need first to look deeply into each other, and listen deeply to each other. We need to name and cast out some demons while at the same time name and rejoice in the many angels in our past and present. And the time to do that has arrived. We’re strong enough to look honestly at our past and our present and listen to where God is calling us through it into a future of health and wholeness.

Third, like the beloved community Jesus built in Galilee, what has, is and more and more will bind this beloved community together is the light of Christ.

That light has shined in this community for almost two centuries. We have a strong and wonderful history of powerful liturgy with transcendent music in a glorious space that has inspired and fueled ministries of deep compassion, particularly among those least privileged and most despised in the world. That is what has gotten us this far. What will carry us where we need to go is a renewed commitment to centering everything we are and do in Christ. A renewed commitment to individual and corporate spiritual practice. – to weekly commitment to attend worship and a daily commitment to prayer and study of scripture.

There are no shortcuts here. We will come together and thrive as a Cathedral if Christ is at the center. And the only way to put Christ at the center is through that daily and weekly gift of our time and attention. The Back to Basics classes that we have started are the how-to lynchpin of this effort. In Basic Bible, which begins this Wednesday (and we’ve got 20 people signed up already and there’s still room for more), in Basic Bible we’ll be not just learning about what scripture is but how to craft a discipline of sitting with scripture and instead of us interpreting it letting scripture interpret us. In Basic Christianity, we’ll be learning about how to embrace a God’s eye view of the world. And in Basic Discipleship, we’ll be looking at how we support each other over the long haul of becoming changed people by walking this path together.

At last week’s forum for the candidates for Chapter, Laura Lambrix asked an excellent question. “When new people come into our Cathedral, what will we ask them to do?” And the candidates had a series of really good answers about newcomer incorporation. As I was leaving the room, I went up to Laura and said, “there’s a two word answer to your question, “When new people come here, what will we ask them to do?” And those two words are “follow Jesus.”

There are no shortcuts here. If the house we build is centered in Christ then nothing will be able to prevail against it. But if it is built on our own agendas or reactions against the workings of the world – our own versions of Herod arresting John – than it won’t take much more than a stiff breeze to topple it down.

Which leads us to the fourth key point. Being a Christ centered community means conversion. Part of our commitment to inclusion is affirming that Jesus meets us and loves us wherever we are. and that is so true. But the other half of that truth is that Jesus isnt content to leave us as we are. Our discipleship means being honest about who we are but also willing to sacrifice much for what we are to become.

First of all, what we are now. And this may be the most difficult truth for us to hear.

We are called a Cathedral, our building is a Cathedral building, but we are not a Cathedral.

A Cathedral is a large and vibrant community that is a center of the light of Christ not just for itself but for the wider church and for the whole city and region. We can point back to times in our history when this was a Cathedral but today we are not a Cathedral. Frankly, we are not even close to being a Cathedral. What we are is a midsized parish with a huge, old, beautiful building and a bishop’s chair.

Now I don’t say that to make us feel bad or unworthy. Being a midsized parish with a beautiful old building isn’t a bad thing to be. But what we need to do is be honest with ourselves about what we are and what we aren’t right now … and ask ourselves “is this who Jesus is calling us to be?”

Remember, what we know from the Gospel is that Jesus meets us as who we are but isnt content to leave us that way. And so just as firmly as I believe that we are not a Cathedral right now and that Christ meets us and loves us as who we are right now, I deeply believe that our calling and destiny is to be a Cathedral once more. That like his words to Peter and Andrew, Jesus is saying “Follow me, and I will make you a Cathedral.” Not by a return to the days of old but by leading us on an adventure into an exciting but as yet unknown future.

And what we learn from that Gospel is that it will be a process that will take time, will take sacrifice and will take casting away things of the past to embrace things of the future. Last year, we celebrated with our Canon Pastor and Liturgist her call to be rector of St. Barnabas in Florissant. And then instead of filling a previous position, we called something new – a Vicar. A Vicar is a priest who has primary authority over the congregation so that the Dean can concentrate on leading the work of being a Cathedral – of being that center of the light of Christ for the wider church and the world.

I called a Vicar – and an absolutely extraordinary one at that, in Amy Cortright – not because we are a Cathedral now but because the only way to become one is to begin to structure ourselves as one. Because even those things that we love that have gotten us where we are today may not be what we need to get us where we need to go. And that is one of the biggest questions before us, starting with our decision on a new dean. Not how much do we love what has gotten us this far, but who and what will get us where Christ would have us go.

In the next six weeks, our Vicar and your Chapter will be introducing you to a new way we will be structuring ourselves in terms of the committees and ministries of the congregation. We will be taking a hard and fresh look at our worship life and our financial life. We will be setting aside some old ways and living into some new ways. In all things we will be looking at what excellence means. Both in terms of what is sustainable excellence now and how we are moving toward becoming an excellent Cathedral in the future.

And just as it was for those first disciples and all disciples since, it will take sacrifice. Right now we are facing a $50,000 shortfall in what was pledged in 2010 and what was given. We are facing a $70,000 gap in what we were expecting in pledges for 2011 and what we got. I don’t know what that is about, but I do know that it’s not acceptable. There are no shortcuts here. Cathedrals do not just happen. This one will be built not just in our commitment to worship, prayer and study but in our commitment to giving. In our making supporting Christ’s work in this community as much of a financial priority for each of us as any other area of our lives.

Finally, being this beloved community means not just being Christ-centered but Christ sent. Just as Jesus and those first disciples didn’t sit on their hands and navel-gaze, neither can we. In addition to our commitment to the spiritual practices of worship, prayer and study we must commit to the spiritual practices of proclaiming and serving. Let me ask you... Do you love this community? Do you love Christ Church Cathedral? Do you love the life of Christ you have met in this place and with these people as much as I do? (I can’t hear you!) Then tell people about it. Invite people into it!

Do you believe that you are beloved by God? Do you believe that that love is not just for you but for a deeply broken world? Then keep getting out and keep loving that world. You can do it as many already do through portals we offer here at Christ Church Cathedral. You can do it through volunteering with the Saturday breakfast program or Episcopal City Mission or our relationship with Lui in Sudan. But service doesn’t have to have the Good Episcopalian Stamp of Approval on it to count. Volunteer at the International Institute or for the United Way or at Centenary United Methodist’s Bridge Program or at St. John’s Episcopal Church’s Peace Meal program. Right now, I’m not so interested in us having a brochure full of Christ Church Cathedral programs that we can point to with pride as I am having each and every one of us engaged in some service, maybe just one day or one morning or one afternoon a month, serving somewhere as a loving response to a God who loves us without bounds.

We’re coming to the end of our second year together. For me it has been an amazing and life-changing walk. Both God and you have taught me much. And in the next several months we will decide whether this provost period should change into a relationship as dean. We will be deciding if this is the right match not so much for what we’ve done already but for path Christ lays out before us. As I do my part of that discernment, I’ve realized the most important thing is for me to continue to be as clear as possible about what I see God’s call to us is and the tasks before us are. And from that we’ll figure out if we’re meant to walk together some more.

I hope you’ve always experienced me as someone who has been loving, honest and straightforward with you. Anything less is not worthy of us as the Body of Christ. I hope in this report you have heard me clearly that the road ahead of us is incredibly challenging, because it is. I also hope in this report you have heard that looking around at how far we have come so far and where we are headed I am filled with incredible hope and hope you are, too. But most of all I hope this morning you have heard that the commitment on which all of this depends is our commitment to be centered in Christ and sent by Christ. To believe we are the beloved community. That every one of you is beloved by God and given the joyful opportunity to love those whom God loves, both in here and out there. And to trust that if we put our trust in Christ there is no darkness that can overcome us, no story that cannot be told, no wound that cannot be healed and no joy that cannot be reached.

AMEN

2011-01-17T19:08:00.000-08:00

Preached by the Rev. Canon John Kilgore at Christ Church Cathedral on Sunday, January 17, 2011

“Look, here is the Lamb of God!”

This is an interesting scene in John’s gospel. This first chapter of John is about declaring who Jesus is and then Jesus assembling his team, if you will. It starts out, ‘In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God…’ but then quickly goes into the story of John the Baptist. Our gospel reading today starts at verse 29 but in verse 19, just before, John is being interrogated by priests and Levites from Jerusalem who ask him who he is. They want to know if he is the Messiah, Elijah, or a prophet. He responds, ‘no that is not me, I am just pointing the way.’ John was a herald in fact. So verse 29 begins, ‘The next day he saw Jesus coming toward him and declared, “Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world.”’ This is Him, The One. Not me. Him.

The Lamb of God. There are a lot of names for Jesus. Handel’s Messiah, which we heard just a few weeks ago, summarizes those names well, ‘wonderful, counselor, mighty God, the Prince of Peace.’ Also Emmanuel meaning God is with us. But Lamb of God is a popular epithet for Jesus. Many of our symbols in the Church, much art, and writings portray Jesus as the Lamb of God.

That is very apt, as lambs are soft, gentle, trusting, nonaggressive, and nonviolent. Young children are like that, gentle, trusting, nonaggressive, and nonviolent. It is when children grow up that the less desirable qualities come to the fore. Scientifically the rudimentary part of our brains, which we share with the reptiles and lower animals, are wired for survival. Feeding, fighting, fleeing, and reproduction are basic instincts bequeathed to us by the reptiles and rooted in the base of the brain, the hypothalamus. The ‘all about me’, the survival part of the brain. But that is a very small part of our brain. The neocortex, most of the space of our brain, is about higher cognitive function, reasoning, and emotion. We are wired for this fight or flight response to assure our survival. But we are also wired for compassion and love and thoughtful subjugation of our basic survival impulses. Yet these two tendencies, for survival and compassion exist in tension.

This has been a very difficult week in our country. An assassination attempt on a member of Congress, Gabrielle Giffords, the murder of six individuals including a federal judge, and the wounding of thirteen others in Tucson last Saturday has dominated the news. And much of the media discourse, of which there has been a tremendous amount, has been about the polarization of our society and the meanness of our politics today. The right wing media and Sarah Palin, the vitriolic diatribes on talk television and radio have been blamed for fostering an attitude in society that is responsible for such heinous acts as the Tucson shootings. And there are now calls for a softening of our approach to each other. As I was driving to the Cathedral this morning I heard letters to the editor on NPR. Someone said, ‘People on both the left and the right are saying outrageous things. Name calling doesn’t help.’ Yes, the meanness is on both the left and the right. And name calling doesn’t help.

There was a piece on CNN a couple of days ago where they showed the seating in Congress and described how the Democrats always sit on one side and the Republicans always sit on the other side. Across the aisle. They are divided. There is a rapidly growing movement for the members of Congress to mix up the seating, abandon the traditional seating and all sit intermixed, Democrats and Republicans next to each other during the State of the Union address next week. It’s about time for compassion to resurface there, and among us.

We live in a difficult and dangerous world: passions are inflamed around the globe, there is an imbalance of wealth, an imbalance of power, terrorism abounds, the Arab/Israeli conflict, Christian/Muslim tension, India/Pakistan, North Korea/South Korea, Democrat/Republican, liberal/conservative. And we can be mean one to another unintentionally in the course of our daily lives.

A recent book out, Twelve Steps to a Compassionate Life, by Karen Armstrong gives a recipe for living a more compassionate life. In the first chapter she writes, “One of the chief tasks of our time must surely be to build a more global community in which all peoples can live together in mutual respect; yet religion, which should be making a major contribution, is seen as part of the problem. All faiths insist that compassion is the test of true spirituality and that it brings us into relation with the transcendence we call God, Brahman, Nirvana, or Dao. Each has formulated its own version of what is sometimes call the Golden Rule, ‘Do not treat others as you would not like them to treat you’ or in its positive form, ‘Always treat others as you would wish to be treated yourself.’ Further, they all insist that you cannot confine your benevolence to your own group; you must have concern for everybody – even your enemies.”

She goes on to write, ‘In a world where small groups will increasingly have powers of destruction hitherto confined to the nation-state, it has become imperative to apply the Golden Rule globally, ensuring that all peoples are treated as we would wish to be treated ourselves. If our religious and ethical traditions fail to address this challenge, they will fail the test of our time.’ Her book has twelve chapters on living the compassionate life.

You can read her book and gain insight into living today. But you can also read our book, the Bible, and gain much insight from our teacher, Jesus, the Lamb of God. Jesus, in his life and actions, shows us time and again the way to be compassionate. Turn the other cheek he says, forgive your brother or sister not seven times but seven times seventy, let the one without sin cast the first stone. And He gave us instructive parables: the parable of the Good Samaritan, the parable of the Prodigal Son, as well as the admonition ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’

Making a difference in the world involves living a compassionate life and it all begins right here…with you and me. Fostering a culture of compassion and nonviolence. There is a bumper sticker that reads ‘Think globally, act locally’. It begins right here with each and every one of us. Mahatma Gandhi said that we must ourselves become the change that we wish to see in the world. The fight or flight part of our brain is in conflict with the compassionate rational and emotive part of our brain. It is our challenge to live into compassionate lives as Jesus the Christ dramatically showed us, and as all other faith traditions promote.

It starts with overcoming the idea of ‘other’. We are all we. It is not liberals and conservatives, democrats and republicans, black and white, gay and straight, South county and North county, city and county St. Louis, eight o’clockers and 1115’ers. We are all children of God. Perhaps we should erase all labels! We are all we.

In her wonderful book Uncommon Gratitude – Alleluia for All That Is Joan Chittister talks about having been in Russia, then the Soviet Union during the height of the Cold War and the feeling of ‘otherness’ that she experienced officially. Yet the people were always individually warm to her as a foreigner. She then laments that the Cold War is over but the enemies have changed, “Russia, we have decided, is no longer our enemy. We have uncocked our missiles and torn up our propaganda pieces and turned our sites on other ‘others.’ Now more likely targets. Now more sustainable enemies. Now more politically advantageous opponents. Now we find ‘other’ in men, in women, in gays, in Arabs, in liberals, in conservatives…We look for differences and call them ‘bad’ rather than simply ‘different.’ But ‘otherness’ is an alleluia gift of great measure that takes us out of ourselves, beyond ourselves, into the best of ourselves. Being open to the ‘other’ expands our vision of the world…The ‘other’ is the one who teaches us that we are not the whole world. We are only a piece of it waiting for the ‘Other’ to make us more than we were when we began. Alleluia.”

We can get rid of the labels and not be black or white or conservative or Arab or Jew, but life would be pretty monotonous. Or we can celebrate our differences and say alleluia that such diversity exists. It is said that America is no longer a melting pot but rather now a salad bowl. What a great analogy. We need the lettuce and the carrots and the radishes and onions and peppers and dressing and crouton. We need all the parts. But we must exist in harmony and treat each individual with compassion and respect. We don’t blend it into a slaw or a soup. All the parts recognizable. Remember that in our Baptismal Covenant we promise to respect the dignity of every human being. Every. So we either need to get over the idea of ‘other’ or respect it.

And after we overcome the idea of ‘other’ we are to continue with guarding our behavior from mean and violent words and actions, even those we do so habitually without thought – our survival part of our brain struggling with the compassionate major portion of our brain. My work as a physician here the past twenty-five years has been mostly in the SSM Healthcare system. Based on the values of the nuns that run the healthcare system, they have a strong commitment to avoiding the use of violent language and to using inclusive language. In meetings when we discuss strategy we do not use terms like clobber the competition, beat them up, massacre. We don’t have targets but rather audiences or objectives. Power point presentations do not have bullet points but rather dot points. It is amazing how often we have to correct ourselves for using violent language, but also amazing how easy it is to find alternative wording. Just Friday an executive said in a meeting with me, ‘It is time for us to pull the trigger on this decision…’ He immediately stopped, apologized, and said, ‘We have to make a timely decision here.’

Tolerance of differences, compassion for others, and gentleness in our dealings. What a way to live. May we be so worthy. We have great examples of leaders who remind us of tolerance and compassion. Tomorrow is Martin Luther King Day. Thankfully now a national holiday when we celebrate a great leader who advocated nonviolence and helped us get better in our thinking of ‘otherness’. We are all one. Race relations in this country and South Africa for example have come a long way, but still have a very long way to go. Getting over our ‘otherness’ is very much Christian, and in the tradition of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.

Another great example was Jesus, the Lamb of God. Gentle and kind though still demanding. We are to follow his example and be gentle and tender one with another. When we raise our voice at someone, are demeaning to another, cast aspersions or make ugly comments about someone we are not living the compassionate life. When we are condescending or self-righteous we are less than Jesus models for us. Remember that on the night he was betrayed, when they came for him in the garden a guard’s ear was sliced off. And Jesus fully well knowing that he was going to be crucified, healed the guard’s ear. That’s compassion.

Yes becoming a compassionate human being is a project, a process, a lifelong project. And takes work. But it begins with a daily effort and how we talk to one another. Martin Luther King called for nonviolence along with action and reflection, as did Gandhi and others. Congress is planning to sit with Republicans and Democrats next to one another rather than across the aisle.

We must learn how to talk to one another, not over one another or down to one another, but to each other, civilly. May we as the Church lead the country. May we as individuals lead the Church and the community. It begins with us in our daily encounters – compassion, nonviolence and respect for the dignity of every human being. Every. No exceptions. Every.

And when we live that way they will say, ‘Look Here is Lamb of God!’ Thanks be to God.

Amen.

"You are my beloved" -- A sermon for the feast of the Baptism of Our Lord

2011-01-10T17:23:00.000-08:00

Preached by the Very Rev. Mike Kinman at Christ Church Cathedral on Sunday, January 10, 2011

And a voice from heaven said, ‘This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

You are God’s beloved.

You are God's beloved.

What is it like to hear that? Is it wonderful? Is it terrifying? Is it both and neither and all sorts of other things. What’s it like to hear it?

Ed, you are God’s beloved.

Rick, you are God's beloved.

Huldah, you are God's beloved

You are God’s beloved.

That word “beloved" means every inch of what it sounds like. In Greek it is, “agapetos” which means “loved with agape” – loved with a love that is deep, active, self-sacrificing and absolutely unconditional. This is a love that doesn’t have to be earned. This is a deep love that just is.

Maybe love was like this for us once, but for most of us, it’s not what our experience of love is. Most of us have learned to believe we have to earn love – from God, from each other and from the world. But that’s not what being God’s beloved means – it’s about being loved unconditionally and without having to earn it.

This kind of love is especially hard to believe in the church because the church has for centuries taught the opposite. Be good .... and you’ll get to go to heaven. We’ve turned our relationship with God into an economic transaction to go along with all the other economic transactions in our lives. But that’s not what the Gospel says. The Gospel tells us that God’s relationship with us is the most unbalanced, unfair economic transaction of all time.

Because here are the terms. God gives us life and unconditional love. We are told to give God – nothing.

That’s right, nothing is demanded of us before or after in return. There is nothing we can do that will cause God to stop loving us. Nothing will cause that love to be taken away. Instead we get an invitation, one that we are free to embrace or ignore. God invites us just to trust in the gift, to trust in the active, unconditional love God has for each one of us. Just to trust in it. That’s all.

Now that sounds great, but of course it’s not that easy. And the problem isn’t God, it’s us. If you’re like me, hearing God say “you are my beloved” … well, it’s the ultimate approach/avoidance situation. There is nothing I crave more than being loved that deeply and unconditionally. But there is also nothing that is harder for me to trust than that I am that lovable, that that kind of love is out there for me just because I am and not because of anything I do.

In fact trusting that love is so hard, we can’t do it alone. God’s unconditional love for us is so hard for us to trust that we need each other to remind us of it and to help us trust it. And that’s what the church is supposed to be. That’s who we are supposed to be.

We call ourselves The Body of Christ. And what that means is we are the Beloved Community. That just as God looked at Jesus and said, “This is my beloved,” God looks at each and all of us and says the same thing.

So if we’re the Beloved Community, what does that mean? Well, let’s start off with what it doesn’t mean. It doesn’t mean that God loves Christians best. This isn’t some cosmic Smothers Brothers routine. God’s agape, God’s unconditional love starts for everyone in creation, not just for Christians with baptism.

But our baptism, just like Jesus' baptism, does mean something. What being baptized into the Beloved Community means is that we are part of a community who does what Jesus did that day at the Jordan – who hears the voice that says “You are my beloved.” Who hears that voice and who trusts that God is talking about each of us, all of us, and the whole world.

So let’s take just that first one. Being part of the Beloved Community is hearing that voice speaking to us. Let’s try that one out. Find someone near you. Pair up and turn to each other. Has everybody got someone? If you’ve got to get up and find someone, get up. If youve got to do a threesome make it work out.

Now look in each other’s eyes and say “You are God’s beloved.”

Do it again. “You are God’s beloved.” One more time. “You are God’s beloved.”

"You are God's beloved"

Now again, if you’re like me, part of you is ready to weep for joy and part of you is saying “Yeah, right.” But let’s just try to trust in that voice for a minute. Try to trust just for a minute that you are God’s beloved.

If you trust that you are God’s beloved. If you trust that the most powerful being in the universe loves you without bounds, without merit and that love will never go away, then there is nothing that can be taken away from you that matters. That means there is no reason for you to fear anything. There is nothing that need hold you back. Life itself can be taken from you and it won’t matter if you trust that you are now and always God’s beloved.

So that’s the first thing we are about as this Beloved Community… about helping each other trust that we are God’s beloved. Now here’s the second thing. The second thing we are about is remembering that not only am I God’s beloved but that everyone else in this beloved community is, too.

Being a Beloved Community means looking around this room and looking one another in the eyes and not just hearing those words for ourselves but saying

…are you black or are you white? You are God’s beloved.

…are you homosexual, heterosexual or bisexual? You are God’s beloved.

…are you Republican or Democrat? You are God’s beloved.

…are you rich or poor? You are God’s beloved.

…are you young or old? Employed or unemployed. Married, partnered, single, divorced, widowed? You are God’s beloved.

Being a Christ-centered community, being this beloved community means we not only see ourselves as Christ sees us – as beloved by God – but that we see each other as beloved by God as well. It means that the first thing we think of when we see each other, when we hear each other, when we talk to each other, when we email each other is: "Wow, I am seeing, I am hearing, I am speaking to, I am emailing, I am texting … a beloved child of God."

It’s envisioning that each one of us has a tattoo on our forehead “Jerry … beloved of God.” "Rick … beloved of God.” “Fred … beloved of God” And remembering to treat each other with that same love, not because we are earning points to heaven by being nice, but because when we look at each other and see before anything else someone beloved by God just like we are, it is our greatest joy to remind them they are so loved and to be a part of God loving them, too.

So the first thing we’re about is remembering that we are beloved by God. The second thing is to remember that everyone else in this community is beloved by God. The third thing we’re about is to remember the whole world is beloved by God.

What we don’t hear in this reading is what happens next to Jesus. We’ll get that reading in Lent, but let’s take a sneak peek. Does anybody know? Yes. The same spirit that called Jesus beloved, sent him out into the wilderness. Now let me tell you a little about the wilderness. The wilderness is not Jellystone Park. The wilderness is a dangerous place. Things can eat you in the wilderness. But that’s where Christ gets sent. And that’s where the Christ-centered church, that’s where the beloved community gets sent. And we get sent because even though the wilderness is scary, if we believe we are God’s beloved, we can live without fear. We get sent there because the wilderness is where God’s beloved are, too.

As we gather right now, a half a world away, people are voting on a referendum on independence in Southern Sudan. It’s a vote that may lead to a dangerous place getting even more dangerous. And in the months to come, we must continue to support them not only with our prayers but with our presence. Why? Because we are the beloved community. And meeting God’s beloved in the wilderness is what we do.

Last year, nearly 150 people met violent deaths in St. Louis City, the vast majority of them were black males and most were under age 35. We have to be out in the streets bringing an end to the violence. Why? Because we are the beloved community. And meeting God’s beloved in the wilderness is what we do.

Number 1: We are beloved by God.

Number 2: Everyone else in this community is beloved by God.

Number 3: We are sent into a world that is beloved by God.

People ask me what my vision for this Cathedral congregation is. Well this is it. It’s not flashy. It’s really pretty simple. It’s being Christ-centered and Christ-sent. It’s being the Beloved community.

It’s us being a people who through prayer and study listen to God’s voice saying “You are my beloved” and who every day grow a little less fearful and a little more trusting that it is true.

It’s being a people who look at each other and see before anything else someone whom God adores. Who every day try a little bit harder to be a part of God adoring every one of us.

It’s being a people who embrace being sent as God’s beloved into the wilderness. Who every day step out a little more into the world without fear not because it happens to agree with our political agenda, but because as God’s beloved we are sent to stand with and pray with and love God’s beloved in the wildernesses of our city and our world.

It’s being who I believe God dreams for us to be. A people who hear and trust and are sent by a voice from heaven. A voice that says You are My Beloved, in whom I am well pleased. A voice that is hard for us to hear and even harder for us to trust. A voice that will be our life and set us free. AMEN

Candidates for Diocesan Convention Delegate

2011-01-08T20:17:00.000-08:00

The following people have offered themselves for election as Christ Church Cathedral delegates to diocesan convention. The election will be held at the annual meeting after a 10 am service on Sunday, January 23. Please keep all the candidates in your prayers.

Hulda C. Blamoville, MD; MPH; MBA

Dr. Blamoville has been a member of Christ Church Cathedral for more than 30 years. She was baptized, confirmed and married in the Anglican-Episcopal Church. She is married (39 years) and has two children and one granddaughter. She has served as an acolyte, Sunday School teacher, vestry member, greeter, usher, committee member and chair in three different states and three different continents in the Anglican Communion.

Dr. Blamoville was a medical missionary in Ethiopia, Kenya, Uganda and Zaire. She was called “Nangabuka” by the people of Zaire because she chose to fly a small WWII plane for her medical visits.

Dr. Blamoville is presently connected with St. Louis Children’s Hospital, Barnes-Jewish Hospital and Cardinal Glennon Hospital, and has her clinic “Our Children’s Clinic” in North St. Louis. She also has faculty status with Washington University. She has served on several boards dealing with the well-being of children, and is a delegate to the National Medical Association. She volunteers in the St. Louis and Wellston school systems mentoring and tutoring.

She says things she will always remember are:

1) meeting two presidents: John Kennedy and Barack Obama

2) being detained in Nairobi, Kenya Airport (they thought she was Angela Davis)

3) meeting Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. in Selma, AL

4) being asked to leave Christ Church Cathedral with her two young children, because they were too restless.

Ron Freiwald

Mr. Freiwald started attending Christ Church Cathedral in 1994 and was confirmed in February 1995. Since that time Ron has been an usher, lector and a member of several committees. He served a term on Chapter 2001-2004, led several adult education bible studies and am currently part of the Adult Education Committee.

Outside of CCC, Mr. Friewald is on the faculty in the Mathematics Department at Washington University. In addition to teaching, he does a lot of administrative work coordinating the department’s undergraduate program and relationships with math majors and minors.

Mr. Freiwald served a term as a Convention delegate five years ago. Apart from attending the Diocesan Convention, he found that the quarterly meetings of delegates from our Metro (a regional grouping of nearby churches in the diocese) to be a useful way to learn what was going on in other congregations and build bridges. He is willing to serve again as a delegate if elected.

Michael W. Reiser

Mr. Reiser was introduced to the Cathedral by a friend in 1990, started attending regularly, and was confirmed in 1992. Many of his closest friends are people that he has met here.

Michael has a MBA in marketing and finance from Southern Methodist University and a BS from Truman State University. He feels that he has a strong gift of compassion, integrity and community. He lives his life trying to recognize, and be open to, the will of God. He shares his faith, and the wonderful healing and strength that he receives as a member of Christ Church Cathedral.

He is currently a member of the Standing Committee, and has served on the Cathedral Chapter and as a Convention Delegate. During the past three conventions, he has worked with the diocesan staff as the Convention Coordinator.

The results of the past few years have made Michael realize that there is a work to be done, which requires cooperation and education of people at the local, diocesan and national levels. He loves his church and wants to work with other members of the diocese by representing the community values and outreach that he sees represented here.

Candidates for Cathedral Chapter

2011-01-08T19:56:00.000-08:00

The following have offered themselves as candidates for a three year term on Cathedral Chapter. Four from this slate will be elected at the annual meeting after a 10 am liturgy on Sunday, January 23. Please keep all the candidates in your prayers.

Mr. Thomas K. Edelmann

Mr. Edelmann has an A.B. from Fordham University and a J.D. from Washington University. He is a member of the Missouri Bar, the Bar Association of Metropolitan St. Louis, the St. Louis County Law Library, the American Bar Association and the Estate Planning Council of St. Louis.

Mr. Edelmann has been a member of the Boards of Directors of Nerinx Hall High School, Doorways, Grace Hill Settlement House and Care and Counseling. He has served on or chaired planned giving committees for the Arthritis Foundation of Eastern Missouri, the St. Louis Symphony Society, the St. Louis Effort for AIDS, St. Louis Children’s Hospital, and the Repertory Theatre of St. Louis, as well as the endowment council of the St. Louis Art Museum.

Mr. Edelmann is a member of Christ Church Cathedral, and he has been a member of Cathedral Chapter for three different terms. He has served as junior warden once and senior warden twice.

Mr. Gabriel A. Johnson

Mr. Johnson was born in the Democratic Republic of Congo (then the Belgian Congo), where his father was working as an Accountant with a Belgian Import/Export firm. In 1961, his family returned to Freetown, Sierra Leone when war broke out in the Congo. He had both my primary and secondary education in Freetown, Sierra Leone, and after graduating from Secondary School (High School), worked in the Civil Service for 3 years, as a Field Auditing Assistant in the Office of the Auditor General, whilst pursuing a diploma course in Book-keeping and Business Management from Jersey, England. He was awarded a diploma on completion of the course.

Mr. Johnson later joined Standard Chartered Bank (Sierra Leone) Ltd. as an Accounting Assistant, gained working experience in several of the Bank’s branches ending up as a Senior Accounting Assistant in the Bank’s Head Office Accounts Department, in charge of compiling and tracking the various branches monthly performance, and preparing monthly and quarterly balance sheets.

Mr. Johnson traveled to the US in February, 1990, at the beginning of the civil war, for further studies. His wife Letitia, joined him the following year, and they have been living here since. They have been married for 24 years; have two daughters, one in Laurel, MD with her family and the other in London, UK working on completing her ACCA (the British equivalent of the CPA).

Mr. Johnson has a B.A. in business administration from Lindenwood University and is currently in a training program for Electronic Health Records (EHR) administered by the DHHS that would lead to certification in Health Information Technology.

Dr. Robert Kamkwalala

Robert Kamkwalala is a professor of Finance and Business Administration at Harris-Stowe State University. He received his doctorate in management and master’s in finance from Webster University. He is an alumnus of Harris-Stowe State University where he received his bachelor’s degree in business administration with honors.

Dr. Kamkwalala has received several awards, most notably the “2007, Yes I Can Award” by the City of St. Louis, and the “2008 Best Teacher Award” by Collegiate 100.

His academic and research interests include organizational effectiveness, organizational behavior and organizational development.

In his free time, Professor Kamkwalala spends time with this children, Rebecca and Robert, Jr.

Ms. Leah Montre

Ms. Montre has attended Christ Church Cathedral since she was 13 and says the thing that has always brought her back was the people and their enthusiasm for encouraging spiritual development. Whether it is the children’s Sunday School Program, special speakers and performances, new worship styles, the congregation commits to any new change we face.

In college, Leah took a lot of religion classes to try and understand her faith. One thing that particularly stood out for her was that as life changes and the world changes, faith and the soul’s need for spirituality does not. She believes that spirituality can come in many forms and her goal as a member of chapter will be facilitate these changes will focusing on what makes the Cathedral a welcoming place for people of all backgrounds. Leah would like to expand our social mission in the community and get the entire congregation more involved in social justice.

Leah feels she would be a great asset to Chapter because of my flexibility, youth, and commitment to diversity. She says she welcomes adversity and is able to examine any new development from all sides and try and find the best compromise. As a younger member of the congregation she believes she could offer insight from a different perspective. She says growing up in Saint Louis has taught her to appreciate all sorts of people from all races, creeds, sexual orientation, etc. and believes making the Cathedral a place where everyone feels welcome would be a great accomplishment.

Mr. Donald W. Peel

Mr. Peel was born and raised in an American Baptist family in Alton, IL. He graduated from high school in 1949, and enlisted in the Air Force in 1950. In September, 1954, he entered SIUC, and graduated with a BME in 1958. He received his MME in 1964. He has served his community teaching elementary band. He has played French horn in the Evansville, IN Symphony, and served as secretary, vice president and president. He also has served on the IEA State Board.

Mr. Peel has been married for 52 years to Carol, and has a son and a daughter. In January, 1993, they moved to Belleville to be closer to their grandchildren. On Easter, 2009, they became members of Christ Church Cathedral. They both feel that the Lord led them here.

Mr. Bob Schleipman

Bob was baptized and confirmed in the Episcopal Diocese of New York. He served in the U.S. Air Force from 1952-1974, retiring as a master sergeant. He was a civilian employee of the St. Louis Metropolitan Police Department from 1975-1993.

Mr. Schleipman has served as an acolyte and lector in many Episcopal churches. During his time at Christ Church Cathedral, he has served on the Chapter from 1985-1988 and was junior warden in 1987. He has also been a member of the Cathedral’s stewardship committee, and currently serves on the Evangelism Team, as a volunteer garden worker and as a member of the Wednesday morning Bible Study Group. Previously, Mr. Schleipman worked as a volunteer at the Club Cathedral daily breakfast for the homeless. He and his wife, Helen, have been married 56 years and have four children and nine grandchildren.

Ms. Celeste M. Smith

Ms. Smith is a licensed clinical social worker (LCSW). She is married to Tom Boyle, and they are raising a three-year-old daughter, Rose Marie Boyle.

They joined the Cathedral in September, 2009, and have fallen in love with the community, the building and the ministry. She has become a regular attendee of the Adult Forums on Sunday mornings. She has volunteered with the Cathedral Life Committee and is chair of the Community Ministry Committee.

If elected to Chapter, she will be committed to our tradition of service, our stewardship of resources, and our movement toward a vibrant future.

Dr. Timothy William Smith

Tim grew up in the Episcopal Church. It began with St. Francis, then Holy Trinity in Greensboro, NC. and served as an acolyte through much of his school years. He went to a Methodist university (Duke) for college and medical school, where there was a small but active Episcopal Campus group. Between college and med school, he spent three years at another Christ Church, in England, for graduate school. He loved that cathedral, its ritual and its music, and served as an acolyte there, too. In Boston for several years of post-medical school training, his attended Trinity Church with his wife, Miriam, where their older daughter Olivia was baptized.

After moving to Boston, it was some time before the Smith’s picked a parish, but eventually, Christ Church was the overwhelming choice. They were drawn as much by the music as the community. Mr. Smith served as a lector (and as a spouse of a J2A teacher!). Katherine, their second child, was baptized here. The Smith family attends both the 11:15 and 9:00 services, and doesn’t believe they have to be locked into one service.

Mr. Smith is a cardiac electrophysiologist (he studies and treats the heart rhythm) on the faculty of the Washington University medical school. The Smiths love travel when they can and he is a dedicated music lover.

Mr. Smith is eager and willing to serve the Cathedral in any way he can.

Take care of the poor, and don't be a jerk!

2011-01-02T13:24:00.000-08:00

The Christmas Cards, and Creche’s picture a full scene. Mary, Joseph, the shepherds, sheep , camels, oxen, cows, some have elephants, turtles. And something unusual. The Magi. The magician or wise men from the East. Now Matthew is the only gospel that has the Wise Men in the story. The only one? Did the other three just decide it wasn’t that important? Or was it written for a certain audience a certain purpose. It is said that Matthew was written to an audience who was familiar with the scripture of the Old Testament. It was written for the Jewish population at the time.

And this story of the Wise men is shared to show that EVEN THE GENTILES RECOGNIZE JESUS AS THE MESSIAH. These wise men, these gentiles, Who follow a Star to Jerusalem, to find a child they do not know. Of a faith they do not hold. It is proposed by some that these Wise men, are seers from Babylon, who were part of the sect that learned of the Messiah from the Prophet Daniel while Israel was in exile in Babylon

There are of course speculations, and wild stories of what the Star was, an alignment of planets, a comet, a super nova, even a flying saucer. But the basic truth is that these learned wise men from the east, interpreted the appearance of a star that a king was to be born in Judah. And they decided to travel to acknowledge this happening. So what is unusual about them being in the Manger scene for us is that they didn’t appear then. We like to think that they were there with the Shepherds on that night, but that’s not what the gospel says.

You see I think that the Star appears at the birth of Jesus, and then it goes away. That is until the Magi finally set out from Jerusalem to go to Bethlehem. “…and there ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at it’s rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was”
They offer their gifts, and then when warned in a dream they leave for their country, by another road, not returning to Herod.

What happened to the Magi, afterwards?

If these magi, returned after paying homage to Jesus, it seems that they did nothing to truly spread, the word that the messiah was born. Perhaps even though they arrived to pay homage to a new king of Israel, they didn’t truly understand what Messiah means? Their interpretation was that this was simply another king.
In his book “Lamb: the gospel according to Biff, Christ’s Childhood Pal” Author Christopher Moore, reintroduces the magi who visited Bethlehem upon Jesus’ birth. Making use of what happened to Jesuus’ during his teenage years, and his proposed, travels in the East, Moore has Jesus and Biff visit a monastery in modern day Afghanistan to learn the secrets of the Tao from Balthezar, continue to China where they learn the ways of the Buddha from Gaspar and finally journey to India to learn Hindu mysticism from Melchoir. Along the way, Jesus learns these Eastern philosophies he will bring back to his homeland to use in his ministry. He will also have his first cup of coffee, and his first taste of bacon!

Over the course of the novel, Moore reveals the minor secrets of Jesus’ ministry (how and why he walked on water) as well as the major ones (what the H. stands for in Jesus H. Christ (it stands for Hallowed. You know.. “hallowed be your name”)
It is hilarious, fiction but it does offer a bit more about the Magi, and what their purpose could have been in visiting Jesus.

I like to think that the Magi had some other contribution to the story something to have given here, other than to get Herod all worked up, to slaughter the innocents.

That to me is most disturbing is that this new king who was born, and announced to the authorities, by the magi, brought FEAR.

Fear to Herod, and according to Matthew, all of Jerusalem with him.

Why fear? What about a toddler is so fearful?

Loss of power. Loss of the Status Quo. Herod and the rest of the power authority in Jerusalem, must have known what the arrival of the Messiah must mean. Change. Change is coming to them and to the world they knew.

That seems to be the theme of Jesus’ life here. Jesus overturns authority, and teaches a new way. No longer are our lives dictated by laws and patronage from those in power. But we realize that we gain even great gifts from God, by doing those things that are not normal for the time. Heck it is not really normal for our time. The least shall be first. Love your neighbor as yourself, take care of the poor.

This is not what we are told to do in our lives, by this secular world.
Looking out for number one, a definite sense of egoism is among us. We measure our lives in what we have won for ourselves.
Certainly in our current elections mean-spiritedness rules the tv airwaves.
It’s like the ancient world is back among us. Charity is short. Favors and patronage is what seems to rule the day. Especially when we read about Political deals being wrought in order to secure continued unemployment benefits, or continued middle class tax cuts. It’s like the Herod’s are back. You do me a favor and I’ll do one for you. No one seems to be looking out for the common good. We need to remember the lessons that the birth of Christ teaches us. That Christ comes into the world to change the world. The world and all of creation are transformed.
How we normally go about things is not the way God’s wants us to be.
We need to be nicer to each other. To be nicer to those around us. Start seeing the poor among us. There are more than you realize, in this downward economy.

We are not to work for rewards here, on earth, to do those things that bring us recognition and fame. We are only to do those things that glorify god. How are we to know what that is?

It has been summed up by many people, and it comes down to this. Take care of the poor and don’t be a jerk.

It is time to use our gifts to love, heal, bless, evangelize, and share his words and his reality with new people each week. Go. Feed the hungry and comfort the hurting. Where is your heart drawn to help others, renew love, and make Jesus real to people? Is your heart drawn to making miracles happen, blessing others, teaching, supporting your church and its people? What gifts do you have to offer? What gifts do you want for the journey of sharing your witness and Christ’s love, words, and reality? Pray for those gifts. It is time. This new year begins a time of a greater commitment to Jesus and the journey of faith. It will take humility. Look to Mary. It will take courage. Look to Joseph. It will take faith and love. Look to Jesus.

Advent 4A: "The gift of glorious, impossible, insanity."

2010-12-19T18:27:00.000-08:00

Preached by the Very Rev. Mike Kinman at Christ Church Cathedral on Sunday, Dec. 19, 2010

I’ve got a question for you. Suppose I told you that this week we found out that a splinter group called the Anglican Church in North America was saying that because Christ Church Cathedral had departed from what they view as a correct interpretation of scripture they were suing us for ownership of the Cathedral and demanding that we turn over control of this building to them by January 1, 2011.

What would your response be? Why?

Congregation responses were along the lines of “No way, ” “Fat chance,” and “because it’s ours.” And “because that’s crazy” … one person asked if they’d take the Tuttle building instead.

OK, What if I told you that Chapter met last Thursday night and voted to give not only the Cathedral building but the Tuttle Building and the parking lot to the Anglican Church in North America as of January 1. What would you think of your Cathedral Chapter and their decision?

How many people would agree with that decision? Raise your hands. No hands were raised.

How many people think that the Chapter would have been negligent in their responsibilities to the Cathedral and the Diocese? Raise your hands.

Many hands went up.

Suppose Jim McGregor stood up here and, with you all holding your pitchforks and tomatoes said here’s why we did this:

“In Matthew 5:40, Jesus said, “When someone wants to sue you and take your shirt, let him have your cloak, too.”

How many would think Chapter was even crazier than before? Lots of hands went up.

And you know what, you’d be right. By every standard we are used to measuring things, that decision would be crazy. If this scenario played out, the world would call us crazy. And by every standard but one, we absolutely would be. But that standard is the standard of God in Jesus Christ. The standard of the Gospel. That standard wouldn’t necessarily tell us whether that decision was right or wrong. But it would say that the process we used -- the process of really listening to what Jesus said on the topic, the process of really struggling with not just what was the legal thing to do or the smart thing to do but what would Jesus have us do – that proces was right on the money. And it would say that if people were calling us crazy, that was a good sign that we were on the right track.

Our readings from the Bible each Sunday are selected in a three-year cycle, with a different primary Gospel for each year. Each new year begins in Advent. Last year, we heard from the Gospel according to Luke. This year, we get Matthew. And Matthew’s got a whole lot of crazy in it.

For Matthew, the Gospel is primarily a how-to book. It’s a training manual for disciples of Jesus. Matthew wants to take the law – the way that the people have been told they were supposed to live for hundreds and hundreds of years -- and say all of that has been summed up in one life … the life of Jesus. Matthew has a simple message for us. He tells the story of Jesus and says, “be like this.” And the story of Jesus is pretty unusual.

Take the story of Jesus’ birth. We’re used to the Luke story. The angel Gabriel comes to Mary and her incredible act of courage in saying yes to God. Shepherds and angels. It’s a beautiful story.

Matthew’s story is different.. First of all, in Matthew’s story, Joseph is the main character. Second, Matthew doesn’t spend a lot of time painting a picture. Instead he tells a simple story with a very clear, three step pattern that runs throughout this whole Gospel. Here’s how it goes:

Step one: God or Jesus makes a statement or gives a direction that sounds absolutely crazy, with the only rationale being “because that’s my dream for the world.”

Step two: If you believe the crazy statement or follow the crazy direction, it means you are a disciple. If you don’t, you’re not.

Step three: Because following directions everyone else says are crazy is really hard, God promises to be with us every step of the way. Throughout the Gospel, God promises that we will never have to do this alone.

You see this pattern in this morning’s Gospel. Let’s walk through it. We start with the crazy statement:

“Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been engaged to Joseph, but before they lived together, she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit.”

OK! Stop right there! Did you get that? We’re being told to believe that Mary became pregnant without the help of another human being? And not only that, we’re told this in a completely matter-of-fact way, like instead of Matthew saying “she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit” he was saying “…and she was found to have a fondness for hummus.” He doesn’t give any explanation of how or even why. And not only are we, as disciples in training, being told to believe this, Joseph, who by the way is engaged to this woman who has somehow shown up pregnant, is supposed to buy this, too! Pretty crazy.

OK. Step two. Now we get the crazy direction.

“An angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said “Joseph, son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary as your wife, for the child conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit. She will bear a son, and you are to name him Jesus, for he will save his people from their sins.”

Boom! Stop there. Joseph, you’re supposed to marry someone whom everyone will think is an adulterer – a crime potentially punishable by death, by the way. And perhaps end up with everyone thinking you are an adulterer, too. Without any guarantee that this will all work out OK. Without any explanation why except for God saying, “because I said so.”

OK, That’s Step Two. That leaves Step Three. Now, we get the promise:

“All this took place to fulfill what had been spoken by the Lord through the prophet: “Look, the virgin shall conceive and bear a son, and they shall name him, Emmanuel,” which means, “God is with us.”’

You see, God knows this sounds crazy, and that’s why the very name of the child God is asking Joseph to adopt is a promise that God will be with him every step of the way. And, for good measure, God gives Joseph and Mary, the two people who said yes to all this insanity, God gives them to each other in marriage so neither one has to go through this alone.

In Matthew’s how-to Gospel of discipleship, there are three steps we’re supposed to follow. To hear God tell us something crazy. To believe and follow it without expecting or creating a rational explanation. To trust that God is with us and to look for and embrace the partners God gives us in this absolutely crazy life of following Christ.

Now this isn’t some call to biblical literalism or fundamentalism. One of the reasons I’m an Episcopalian is that we don’t read scripture literally but use tradition and reason to help us interpret it. The problem is how we’ve used that word “reason.” “Reason” is supposed to be the process of us as a community coming together and using our thoughts, prayers and conversation to discover how a Christ who at every turn rejected the wisdom of the world means for us to live here and now.

But instead way too often, we use it as a qualifer for following Jesus. Follow Jesus … when what he’s saying makes sense. We take the Gospel message and we take what makes sense to the world and we look for where the Venn diagram merges and we call that small section of it discipleship.

The problem is, the God who told Joseph “don’t be afraid to take Mary for your wife” promises us many things, but making sense isn’t one of them. It’s actually the opposite. This is the same God who sings to Isaiah “My thoughts are not your thoughts, and my ways are not your ways.” We follow a Jesus who every time we think like Alice in Wonderland and say “there’s no use trying, one can’t believe impossible things” invites us instead to be like the White Queen believing as many as six impossible things before breakfast!

Impossible things like:

*Love your neighbor as yourself.

*When someone strikes you on the right cheek turn the other one toward him.

*When someone sues you for your coat, give them your cloak as well.

Impossible things like

*Rejoice when people curse you and criticize you

*Go, sell all that you have, give it to the poor and follow me.

Impossible things like “You are the light of the world.”

Jesus doesn’t let the world define crazy and sane because, frankly, the world doesn’t have that good a track record in the sanity department.

Look around us.

Look around and you’ll see a world where a child dies every three seconds of stupid preventable poverty.

Where we’re told it makes sense to spend billions of dollars on weapons to kill each other but we can’t afford to give millions of people basic medical care.

Where we’re told we should fear someone because of the color of their skin or what they believe.

Where I’m told that two people of the same sex who love each other is a threat to my marriage.

Where we’re told that a great way to celebrate the birth of Christ is to buy people who already have more junk than they know what to do with, more stuff that they don’t need in the first place.

And we’re letting this world tell us that Jesus is crazy?

Madaleine L’Engle calls the birth of Christ “The Glorious Impossible” … and as the body of Christ, that’s what we get to be, too: The Glorious Impossible. We get to hear things that the world says are insane. We get to come together and think and pray and talk, and without fear or rationalization really try to figure out how Jesus means for us to live like that. And then we get to believe impossible things and do impossible things and follow a God who promises never to leave us, and rejoice when people curse us and feel blessed if it makes us poor.

This week as we prepare for Christmas, I have a challenge for us to walk in Joseph and Mary’s footsteps just a little. As you return from receiving communion you’ll pass by a basket with slips of paper in it. Each slip of paper has a passage from Matthew on it. Something that some people might think is absolutely crazy. I invite you to reach in and take one. Then let the passage rest on your heart this week. Share it with a friend or a family member, remembering that God invites us into the impossible but promises we’ll never go it alone. Ask yourself: “What is Jesus inviting me to believe? To be? To do?”

As we move toward Christmas, let’s spend this week not thinking about what makes sense but about how God is inviting us to believe gloriously impossible things and live in gloriously impossible ways. To celebrate the absolute craziness of a God who wanted to be born as a refugee child in a stable, and who invites us to be that gloriously, impossibly, crazy, too. AMEN.

Advent 3, Light Fixture or Chandelier, Preached by Archdeacon Sluss at St. John's Tower Grove.

2010-12-12T15:01:00.000-08:00

A little old lady from a tiny rural Episcopal Church in Nebraska passed away.

She decided to leave her meager wealth to the church for a brand new chandelier.

Her lawyer contacted the vestry about the wishes set in her will.

And the vestry meets and deliberates, and has discussions about her wishes.

They eventually draft a letter to send to the lawyer.

They say that though they are very thankful for her gift, they find that they are unable to accept the gift, for three reasons:

1. No one can spell chandelier.

2. Even if we had one, we’re sure the organist wouldn’t know how to play it.

And 3, what we really need is new light fixtures.

Now if you like that joke feel free to use it. If you do not, don’t blame me I got it from the Canon Precenter of the Cathedral Pat Partridge.

A gift given, even though we don’t know that it is exactly what we needed.

In hindsight I tend to see the truth of god’s blessings in the events in my life, after they have occurred.

I wish I could recognize those grace filled moments while they were happening, Instead of always understanding the grace given to me after the fact.

My perception is too narrow at times. I cannot it seems, see the grace because I am too involved in the aspects of my life.

I have not, though I wish to, given my all aspects of my whole life to God.
I still try to hold on to some things. Try to take control.

Thinking that perhaps that I shouldn’t have God worry about such petty things in my life, like I only have a few favors to ask of God.

That is why God gives us the gift of the community.

The gift of the church, to be with each other to have others to point out to us those grace filled moments.

When I lost my job last year, I for once allowed my self to be prayed for, allowed myself and my predicament to be open to the cathedral community, heck to the entire diocese.

It was this act of allowing those who knew my needs to pray for me, to raise me up. That sustained me in those times of doubt.

My family in Christ were the ones who helped me realize that God’s gift to me in the situation was having me lose my job. I was in a job I hated, and it was only in losing that job was I ready to make the move. Ready to trust that I would be cared for.

Ready to change my point of reference my perspective in what was going on in my life. From being so self perceptive, to community perceptive.

Seeing that one sure gift of God’s grace to me was my church family, and the realization earlier rather than in hindsight, of the grace of god working in my life.

God often has different things in mind for us. Better things than what we believe we need.

That is the promise of belief in God and a belief in the Savior gives us. God will give us better things than we can imagine.

You see sometimes what we get we don’t realize it’s just what we need.

That is what some in ancient Judea saw with Jesus.

Their Messiah was supposed to be this great warrior.
Who would kick out the Romans, restore the lineage of David.
Bring in a new era, of power and grace, to exceed Solomon’s reign.

And what did they get in Jesus, a poor, mendicant preacher. Roaming the countryside, eating with the unclean and outcasts.

This guy while preaching the good news of the kingdom of god, isn’t giving them what they expect.

For the past few weeks we have John the Baptist in the wilderness proclaiming that Jesus is this Messiah the one whom he says he’s unworthy to hold his shoes! The one he and his followers have longed for the messiah to return Israel to the favored people of God.

Only here is Jesus, he hasn’t raised an army. He’s preaching peace! He’s speaking of the kingdom as already being here, or near. How can that be, we still have the Romans with us.
And what’s more now he (John) is in jail! About to die.
So John’s question “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?”

He wants light fixtures, but gets a chandelier! He doesn’t understand what it is he’s gotten. So Jesus’ answer reminds him.

“The blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them.”

You will notice that Jesus doesn’t answer John’s question, “are you the one?” with a yes or a no. Instead he tells John’s disciples, “tell John what you hear and see”

The proof of who the messiah is, is not in some definitive, proclamation of Jesus or in some preconceived expectation that we have, but in the fruits of what Jesus has done.

“The blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them.”

In our baptism we vow to follow Christ as our savior to put our whole trust in his grace and love. We put our faith in this kind of a Messiah.

You want the Messiah? this is what you get with the messiah. All of Israel, (all of the world), made whole, in the sight of God. Not just one facet of the world saved, but the whole world.

So what is our reaction when people ask us, are you a Christian? What should be our response? The answer is as Jesus’ not a yes or a no, but “look at me, what do you hear and what do you see?”

We are to live our lives into our baptismal covenant. We are to resist evil, and repent, when we sin (and we will sin).
(Deacons call the world to repentence, when we bid and lead the confession)

We are to proclaim the good news, especially to those who have not heard the gospel.
(when we proclaim the gospel we proclaim the gospel, not our interpretation on it)

We are to serve all persons, and we are to strive for justice and peace, and respect the dignity of every human being.
(the poor, the sick, the lonely all those special population stated in our ordination vows)

All of these we should do, in proclamation that we are Christians.

This is also what we in the order of deacons are called to do. We are to be iconic of the servant Christ at work in the world.

Pointing out to the Church that with Christ as our light, that we together as his body in the world, compose those many lights of that chandelier.