One Fish, Two Fish: A Sermon on Matthew 4:12-23

18 year old Joe Herman stepped out of the building of his summer job. He worked as a mail clerk at the Bureau of Indian Affairs, though he preferred to be called the “interoffice liaison.”

Joe had heard something about a march happening in town and while breaking between mail runs… ahem… “interoffice liaison connections” he thought it would be interesting to see what it was all about.


Joe took his time walking; after all it was a hot and humid day in the District of Columbia- August 28, 1963. As Joe made his way down from 19^th street -18^th street, 17^th, 16^th – he slowed to halt. Looking down the bright street, the heat emanated from the ground like in those old westerns, staring off in the distance.

Through the haze he could see them coming, a tidal wave of people from curb to curb, linked arm in arm. Black folk and some white folk sprinkled in, row by row with no end in sight they marched. They marched and they sang, “freedom, freedom, freedom, oh freedom.” Like the tide of the seas, Joe was swept into the waves of marchers and made his way through town.


He didn’t know it then, but young Joe Herman, standing in the shadow of the Washington monument was about to witness one of the most famous oral discourses of the 20^th Century.

“I have a dream that one day this nation will rise up and live out the true meaning of its creed: We hold these truths to be self-evident that all men are created equal.”

The words of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. on that bright August day, shined light on the darkness of racial discrimination and segregation. Through the decades they have reflected their message to radically reorient our minds and our actions to embrace ALL people as equals regardless of race, class, or creed that we might be a people who live in peace, harmony and non-violence. These words are as needed today as they were almost 51 years ago and even before that.

Yet long before two hundred - thousand people marched on Washington and received a prescription from a doctor to realize the kingdom of heaven through racial harmony, the voice of our Lord called out to a town of about one thousand people, “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.”

Repent. Repent is such a worn out word for us, I think. We often talk about repentance in the Hebrew way which is to turn around particularly when it comes to sin.  However, the Greek here is really saying change our minds, the way we think, radically reorient ourselves towards the will of God. This is not an easy thing for us and we can look to the Civil Rights movement for evidence of that.

It is with this radical reorientation in mind that Matthew tells of the disciples’ call with such immediacy. At first glance we can be surprised even intimidated by the sense of urgency on the part of the disciples to give up everything and follow this seemingly random person. They just dropped their nets and left.

Could you imagine their father? “Where do you think you’re going?! Get back here!”All their lives they have learned this trade and they have supported their families and community by getting up every day and going out on the water to reel in the catch.

And then as they prepare for yet another day’s work, this Jesus calls, “follow me and I will make you fish for people.” And they go. Just like that. So who is this Jesus and why is it easy for them to go?Back up to the beginning of the passage, and we learn that upon hearing of John’s arrest, Jesus leaves Nazareth and moves to Capernaum, a small fishing village on the Sea of Galilee. It’s so subtle in the text that we easily glance over it but it says that “he left Nazareth and made his home” there. He made his dwelling, he settled down, he moved in. Guess who’s coming to dinner!

Jesus settled in this place, referred to by the prophet Isaiah as Galilee of the Gentiles, a place with a variety of people, once again, not all of whom bear Jewish ethnicity. This is where Jesus begins his ministry. This is where Jesus proclaims that the kingdom of heaven has come near… to all people, so it is time to radically reorient ourselves to the way of the kingdom.

And if we view the passage with this lens of Jesus’ entrenchment into the diverse community of Capernaum, then we observe a different perspective from which these fishermen see Jesus.In such a small town, Jesus is someone whose message they have heard, someone whom they recognize, someone whom when he calls their hearts pound with anxiety and excitement for the untraveled road ahead, because they see what Jesus is doing, turning the rhetoric of us and them into we and compelling these fishermen to join in the journey acknowledging they have gifts for the work.

Our congregation is walking down a tough road and we are unsure where the marching might lead. Some of us are still grieving members who have left our ranks and hope they’ll return one day.

Some of us fear that we might be called up to the front of the line into new roles. Or perhaps we fear that with change along with some of the things that we have loved about our church we will be pushed out of the march altogether.

But we also recognize this as a march away from stagnant waters, the kind which breeds algae and mosquito, towards the shores of the sea which always provides a fresh catch that will continue to nourish and strengthen our community.  

Sisters and brothers, we may have been living in darkness, but the light of Christ shines brightly on this community. We have heard his message and we see what Jesus is doing right here, setting sail the nave of St. Luke’s, naming the gifts that we have been given to cast into the sea of Hamden.  

This radical reorientation is happening by the grace of God working in each one of us. Jesus has made his dwelling among us and compels us into the kingdom of heaven, here and now, in this town, to a life sharing the good news of Jesus’ promise to be with us to the end of the age.

Tacky Stars & Bug Zapper: A Sermon on Matthew 2:1-12

We were standing in the middle of the street, looking around, wondering why there weren’t more people. It was early, but I didn’t think it was that early. I looked at my wife and shrugged, “I guess this is it.” So we milled about with a handful of others waiting to begin.

But over the next five minutes the swell of hoots and hollers cascaded in from either end of the street.

People strolled down the block with varying volumes of enthusiasm bundled up in coats and hats, popping bottles of champagne. The more festive folks wore glittery costumes, reflecting in the light, ready to provide an impromptu side-show to the main event.

It was the New Year’s Eve Ball Drop in Hampden and about 2 to 300 people of all walks of life, people of all races and ethnicities, ages, sexual orientations, and economic statuses were drawn to the corner of Chestnut Ave. and 34^th Street.

Like the captivating light of a bug zapper, we were drawn by the light of a star, a tacky, plastic, multi-colored star; a star that symbolized the arrival of a new year; a star that invites us to leave behind the darkness of yesterday to embrace the hopeful light of a new day.

We were drawn by this star because in many ways it was a rough year.  The 2013 Year-End Newsreel reminds us of destruction and harm: natural disasters in Oklahoma and the Philippines; senseless violence at the Boston Marathon and Nairobi’s Westgate Mall; and the volatile tension of the infamous sequester and government shutdown.

Here in Hampden, St. Luke’s said farewell and Godspeed to its long-time pastor. It didn’t make the Baltimore Sun or the evening news, but the grieving process for any congregation in transition is real and for this one, facing the possibility of closure only amplifies the loss. The cloud of despair darkens the people of our congregation.

Ours is a world hungry for the hope of good news, for the light of possibility. And so we follow the star, a tacky, plastic, multi-colored star.

It was the sudden appearance of a star that drew out these travelers from the East, but to call them “wise men” is a bit of an assumption.

The Greek text calls them “μαγοι” or magi which is where we get the words magic and magician. These were people who read the stars, the people who write horoscopes and determine ones destiny from tea leaves and tarot cards, astrologers, not to be confused with astronomers. The point, they were NOT Jewish.

These foreigners; these people who live differently, these people who believe differently are among the first to whom God reveals the birth of the Jewish Messiah; and they are the same people to share this good news of great joy with the Jewish king.

Herod - said Jewish king - is merely a puppet of the Empire, happy to comply as long as he has his wealth and stature. Herod is not particularly known for his piety among the Jewish people. And while he basks in his riches, the rest of Judea feels the pinch of Imperial oppression. All they could do is wait for the promised One - the Messiah whose arrival Herod has every reason to fear. The cloud of despair darkens the people of Israel.

However, through the cunning movement of a star, the very objects these particular outsiders pay close attention to, God draws the magi westward by its radiance. They know this new light means something big and God leads them to find that this child, the promised one, in the radiant majesty of his humble innocence has indeed come into the world.

Standing on 34^th street counting down to the New Year, gazing up at the falling star, listening to the shouts of “so long 2013” I was hopeful for the New Year. Not because we can put the crap behind us, but because we follow the light of a different star, a star that not only gives us hope for a new day, but the star whose light reveals Christ’s presence in our world right here, right now leading us to be people of the light, and transforming the world over in 2014.

If we re-ran the 2013 Year-End Newsreel, we’d see Christ everywhere. Christ in rescue and emergency response workers, Christ in every fantastically shocking word of Pope Francis, Christ in the Senate Chaplain rebuking legislative madness, Christ in our new presiding Bishop Elizabeth Eaton reminding us of our identity as people of the light, revealing Christ in us and in the world.

The light of this star shines brightly on the corner of Chestnut Ave and 36^th street, here at St. Luke’s. But Christ’s illuminating presence shines brightest within each one of us people of the light. As we go out into this community and into the world, Christ reveals his presence. Through this light that shines through our darkest flaws, Christ draws near to him people of all walks of life, even those who live differently, and believe differently, the outsiders, yes, even astrologers.

Ours is a world hungry for the hope of good news, and for the light of possibility. As a community we may gaze upon that tacky, plastic, multi-colored star that symbolizes the arrival of a new year. We may relish the idea of leaving behind the darkness of yesterday for the light of a new day. But as people of the light, we follow the star that reveals the light of Christ in us and in the world; The light of Christ shattering the darkness of despair, transforming grief into peace, and fear into hope yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Amen.

A Christmas Poem... Inspired by Procrastination

One week until Christmas and all through the house,

I tripped upon presents and found a dead mouse!

The tree was lit up with glass ornaments and all,

when the cat climbed its branches and started to fall.

Crackle and snap! Bulbs started to pop!

As the cat shredded tinsel, the angel did drop!

Sparks flew from the wall, the plug from the socket;

its hasty departure ignited the cat-rocket!

I ran and I screamed towards the cat in the sky;

I swung and I swore to the cat, "your end's nigh!"

He landed claws out on a freshly wrapped package;

my wrath would soon be endured by the savage.

As I reached for his scruff the beast ran 'tween my feet

and I tripped on the box filled with chocolatey sweets

now covered in brown chocolate salty confection

I rose to my feet for some kitty detection

"Here kitty, here kitty," I started to call

when off of the bookcase the lion did maul!

Oh Christmas! Dear Jesus! What have I created?!

A genuine, bonafide, domesticated...

Demonic, satanic, feline marauder

turned on his owner and ready for slaughter!

Then falling on Billy's new bicycle parts

I felt that the metal has spikes and it smarts!

Then catching a glimpse of my furry contender

he bolted from sight, so I reached for the blender.

Now maybe this move seems a strange thing to you,

but I tend to think a Margherita is due.

Not only has satan possessed my cat

but my Christmas decor and the presents are splat

With one week to go, and so much to do,

how will I get by? How will I get through?

I cleaned and I swept up the mess that was made

from the cat and my antics of lunatic rage

Christmas was lovely, we sipped on eggnog

And all prayers were answered, Santa gave me a dog.

Sermon on Luke 21:1-19

It was 8:30 in the morning when my alarm went off. I had class at 9 so I had just enough time to get ready and make it up the hill from my dorm room. It was about 10 minutes before the hour when I walked towards the common room where the elevators were. As I turned the corner, there stood about 30 people in the room.

“A little early for a party,” I said. But just as I spoke, I realized everyone was looking out the window - a panoramic wall of glass overlooking New York Harbor and the Manhattan Skyline. The day was September 11, 2001.

  

It’s interesting because as I stand here before you, I realize that I’m in a room full of people most of whom fully comprehend the events of that day.

Maybe some of you were there, or somehow you were directly impacted through family or friends.

Some of the young folk here today might have been too young to remember, and of course some weren’t even born yet. How fortunate it is for those who will only come to know of its horrors through YouTube videos and history books.

I can remember when I was ten years old, I went up to the top of the towers for the first and only time. It was a camp field trip. I spent the bus ride up to the city pretending to be afraid that the bus would tip over so that my teenaged counselor would hold my hand to comfort me. I was no fool.

When we arrived at the towers, we just stood there and looked up and up and up. They went up forever. When we stepped into the elevator, it took off! It felt exactly like a rocket being launched into space! Seriously, I know what I’m talking about.

10, 20, 35, 40, 50, 65, 80, 93, 105, 106, 107, ding.

I catch my insides from flying out my head. The doors slide open. I begin to hyperventilate.

Turns out I’m really afraid of heights and the first thing you see when the elevator doors open is New York City from 1200 feet north of the concrete!

It took a little while, but I came around. Eventually, one of the counselors plastered my face up against the glass and made me look down. Ten minutes of that and I was ready for a good time! Feeling the building sway was a little weird, but I accepted the engineering genius. It really was an incredible sight.  

And as I stood there in the common room that day…   staring…  smoke billowing… wondering how many people were trapped, seeing people jump,

I remembered looking up. 

I still didn’t see it coming. The earth roared beneath our feet.

They were gone: the towers, the people. Gone.

“As for these things that you see, the days will come when not one stone will be left upon another; all will be thrown down.”

The days, weeks and months following were filled with some of the greatest hardships that, certainly New Yorkers, but many Americans have ever experienced, at least until hurricane Katrina, and most recently hurricane Sandy. And in the years since, we have seen war and national uprisings in an unprecedented fashion across the globe.

Every day our news cycle is filled with concerns of nuclear armament and natural disasters.  The devastating typhoon in the Philippines is so fresh in our minds as we wait to hear the final count of the lost.  

You see, it is people like you and me to whom Luke shares this gospel message.

Jesus’ words in the text today are not just a record of a conversation, but a reminder of what has already come to pass in first century Jerusalem. Many among Luke’s audience know first hand about the temple’s destruction and the Roman suppression of Jewish revolts. Some have come of age in its aftermath and for others it is but history. In their day, amidst political unrest and persecution, there were those who persisted to claim, “The end is nigh!” But in contrast, the words we hear are Jesus’ call to live as faithful disciples in times of adversity, and the promise of Christ’s unrelenting presence among us.

It is an invitation to trust God.

It’s true though, that adversity is not just a global or national phenomenon like 9/11, a hurricane, or the destruction of the temple. Every person in their own way comes face to face with troubling circumstances of all sorts.

Health scares, accidents, injuries, unemployment, social and economic violence, you name it, someone in this room has experienced it or is caught up in the midst of it as we sit here.

These trials and challenges are real, they are painful, and it is too cliché to say, “every thing is going to be alright” or “every thing happens for a reason.” There isn’t a single sufficient reason why 3,000 people died in a terrorist attack or a hurricane, or why ONE child dies of starvation when there’s more than enough to go around. And IF IT IS God’s plan than we’ve gotta start asking some tougher questions of our God.

All I can tell you is that the God we have in Jesus Christ is not a God who BRINGS ON suffering but a God who BEARS our suffering with us, our God who takes our suffering with him on the cross.

Brothers and sisters, we have a God who in our most desperate moments absolutely refuses to leave us alone!

Recall the account of the poor widow at the beginning of today’s Gospel. She gave all that she had as an offering to the temple. The question still remains; was Jesus praising her generosity or expressing his frustration of an oppressive temple system? We aren’t in a position to judge that, but what we do know is that her poverty was real and we can assume that she trusted in God’s provision enough to give it all away.

I’m not going to lie. There are days, more often than not, when I cannot do that. I cannot give it all away. Maybe you feel the same. Will there be enough to pay the bills this month?

How will I take care of my parents AND my children?

Will this cancer go away? I don’t know.

I do know that in Baptism, Christ draws us ever so near to him.

And I know that by our baptism Christ promises to live in us so that we might live like Jesus to share the good news of his redeeming grace which sets us free from fear and anxiety and causes us to participate even more intensely in this world: to give more freely, care more deeply, to love more urgently and experience the love of God more fully!

Even when we don’t feel it, even when we absolutely disbelieve it, God…is… here! Amen.