Christmas at Messiah

You're invited to join us at Episcopal Church of the Messiah!

Monday, December 24

4 p.m. Children’s Christ Mass

A service especially designed to speak to children “in their own language” and to draw them into the service as partici- pants in our “living Nativity.” It’s a warm and intimate way to “get inside the story” and greet our Savior’s birth this Christmas Eve!

7 p.m. Misa de Nochebuena (en Español)

10:30 p.m. Choir Concert

A Medieval and Renaissance Carol Celebration, by the Parish Choir and a guest musician

11:00 p.m. The Festive Choral Eucharist of Christmas with Carols

Tuesday, December 25 

10:00 a.m. Festive Christmas Eucharist with Carols

The Episcopal Church of the Messiah is a diverse community where EVERYONE is welcome, and all are invited to the table.

Children’s Christ Mass

December 24, 4 p.m.


Are there children in your lives?

In your neighborhoods?

The Children’s Christ Mass is the perfect opportunity to invite them to Messiah!

Yes, we all know that some worship services are “child friendly” – that is, there is an expectation that babies will cry or children climb on the backs of pews and run up and down the aisles, and worship-as-usual will proceed inandroundsuchgoings-on.... However,ourChildren’s Christ Mass is a qualitatively different kind of children’s service. This Christ Mass is especially designed to speak to children “in their own language” and to draw them into the service as participants. Little kids (and their “big kid parents” as well!) are given costume head pieces and bells as they enter the church, and, as the Christmas story is told, everyone finds him or herself included, until we are all ringing our bells and worshiping, head pieces askew, around the manger! It’s a delightful experience for old and young alike!

Do you ever get nostalgic for the days when you were a kid, wearing that bathrobe in your church Christmas pageant? How long has it been? (You don’t have to answer!) Now’s your chance to relive those days! Be a part of our “Living Nativity” at the Children’s Christ Mass on Christmas Eve! Invite your family, friends, and neighbors! Make it a tradition! It’s a warm and intimate way to “get inside the story” and greet our Savior’s birth this Christmas Eve!

Steps in Calling a New Rector

1. Parish Profile submitted to Diocese
2. Job is posted/candidates respond to Diocese
3. Candidate list given to Messiah by Diocese
4. Discernment Committee reviews initial candidate responses
5. Interviews in progress
6. Visits by committee members to parishes of select candidates
7. Final 3 candidates presented to Vestry
8. Vestry calls the new Rector

December 16, 2012 - Deacon Jim Lee

The Third Sunday of Advent is also known as Gaudete Sunday, or the Sunday of Joy. Today this strikes me as very strange, today of all days, because today joy feels a world away. Advent is about preparation, about getting our heart and soul ready for the coming of Christ. Joy isn’t the first thing that enters our hearts and minds when we think of preparation. But especially on this Sunday, when we grieve with our sisters and brothers in Connecticut, there doesn’t seem to be much to be joyful about. Indeed, joy feels very far from us this weekend. Because today none of us were prepared to enter this Sunday of Joy with tragedy weighing on our hearts.

I think that what our gospel lessons have been telling us over the last few weeks, what John says to us this morning, is that the kind of preparation that we’re supposed to do in Advent isn’t about anticipating the unexpected, or preventing unknown dangers. It’s not about erecting scaffolding that keeps us safe from the winds and waters of the world. What today’s Gospel lesson teaches us is that Advent preparation is in some ways the exact opposite of scaffolding, of bracketing the unknown into something that becomes manageable. And I think this is the lesson that John teaches us is especially important on this Sunday of Joy. When he excoriates the crowds as a brood of vipers, he does so not because these are bad people but because he wants them to shed themselves of the fiction, the idolatry, that they can shore up their social and spiritual worth by scaffolding, hitching their spiritual safety to Abraham. John tells the crowd to share coats and give food to those who have none; to tax collectors, he admonishes them to collect just enough and no more; he instructs the soldiers not to abuse their power, not to be greedy. This is more than John telling the people to be equitable, to enact justice. Rather, he is preparing the crowd for a different way of being, a way of being in which the key to life is not about hiding yourself from danger, keeping risk at bay, but actually embracing vulnerability as a core experience to our common life. These walls, these things we erect to protect ourselves and shut us down and shut us out of the risks of life aren’t the answer, John is saying. No, give away your coats, don’t hoard, because in doing so, in opening yourself up to vulnerability, in becoming vulnerable, you open yourself up to joy.

Indeed, the deep wisdom of the Season of Advent, and particularly this Sunday reserved for Joy rests in this radical idea that joy comes when we prepare ourselves to be vulnerable. Noted author Brené Brown, a professor at the University of Houston, writes in her latest book that “Vulnerability is the core of all emotions and feelings. To feel is to be vulnerable. To foreclose on our emotional life out of a fear that the costs are too high is to walk away from the very things that gives purpose and meaning to living.” Vulnerability, then, is a precondition to joy. To be open to the uncertainty, the risk, of the world around us, to leave ourselves exposed to this world is intimately tied to our capacity to experience joy. Our capacity for joy can never be greater than our willingness to be vulnerable. Softening into, leaning into the joyful moments of life requires vulnerability; vulnerability is the precondition to joy.

I cannot begin to tell you how scary this sounds, because even as I say these things I’m so filled with dread it almost takes my breath away. I’m particularly mindful of how dreadful vulnerability can be given this week’s horrific tragedy in Connecticut. When we open ourselves to vulnerability, we open ourselves to pain, disappointment, heartbreak, grief. We are laid bare, and there’s no guarantee for joy. Our exposure puts us at the highest risk; for me, there’s nothing more terrifying that this prospect of laying open not just me but my children to the world’s risk. It brings me to my knees. I don’t want to be vulnerable, I want to hide and be secure from danger. But what our gospel lesson teaches us this morning and what this season of Advent invites us into is to live this risk, to prepare ourselves as open vulnerable souls so that joy can seep in. And this of course what the whole story that we’re preparing for is all about, isn’t it? The story of God risking God’s self by becoming a terribly vulnerable, frail, fragile human being, Emmanuel, God with us, God as us. For we worship a God who risks it all, who embraces vulnerability as a precondition to joy and who invites us to be vulnerable, to ourselves, to each other, so that we might experience joy beyond our wildest imaginations.

My friend Andy Marra knows something about this intimate connection between vulnerability and joy. An adoptee from Korea, Andy came out to her adoptive parents as transgender in 2003, but she hesitated to complete her transition before she met her unknown family in Korea. In 2010, Andy had the opportunity to visit Korea, and on the last day of her stay she found herself in a police station asking an officer to help her find her mother. The officer initially balked with a lengthy bureaucratic response, but then Andy cried, “Help me! I need to find my parents. I have waited all my life for this moment. Please help me!” In that moment, something shifted in the police station, and within two hours, she and her mother were reunited for the first time in almost three decades. But the story doesn’t end there. Two weeks later, Andy’s mother asked her, “What is worrying you? You seem worried about something.” Wondering and questioning whether to reveal her identity, Andy finally said to her mother, whom she had only been reunited with for a few days, “Mother, I am not a boy. I am a girl. I am transgender.” “Silence filled the room,” Andy recalls. “I searched my mother’s eyes for any signs of shock, disgust or sadness. But a serene expression lined her face… Then my mother spoke: ‘Mommy knew. I was waiting for you to tell me.’” Later, she proudly introduced Andy to a local waitress and her church pastor as her trans daughter. In a recent Skype conversation, Andy’s mother leaned into the computer screen and said, “My daughter, you are beautiful.” Andy and her Korean mother know something of deep joy borne out of deep vulnerability, joy made possible when you and I prepare our hearts to be transformed by the unexpected, the unknown, when we put ourselves at risk in the manner that God puts God’s self at risk.

My sisters and brothers, God invites us into a life of joy beyond our wildest imaginations by inviting us into the risky life of vulnerability. As we prepare our hearts and minds to receive the bread and wine made holy, may we be open to the risk of being broken, even today as we bear witness to the risks, just as Christ is broken for us, so that we might be open to the life-giving joy that comes from being open to all that God presents to us. And may in this season of Advent we prepare our lives by giving away our coats and everything else that stands in the way of our being deeply vulnerable, so that we come to know the joy that is God’s dream for us and for the world.

El tercer domingo de Adviento también es conocido como el domingo de la alegría. Esto me parece extraño. ¿No es el Adviento sobre la preparación? No es para hacer su corazón y su alma listos para la venida de Cristo? Cuando usted y yo conseguimos nuestros hogares listos para una gran celebración, como la fiesta de cumpleaños de un familiar, la alegría no es la primera cosa que entra en nuestros corazones y mentes. Este domingo en particular, no se siente alegre, a causa de la terrible tragedia en Connecticut, el pasado viernes.

Creo que lo que nuestro Evangelio nos dice es que el tipo de preparación que debemos hacer en esta temporada no es sobre prevenir lo inesperado. Lo que nos enseña la lección del Evangelio de hoy es que la preparación de Adviento es en cierto modo lo contrario de convertir lo desconocido en algo que es manejable. Y creo yo, que esta lección que Juan nos enseña es especialmente importante en este domingo de la alegría. Cuando se llama a la multitud una camada de víboras, no lo hace así porque son gente mala, sino porque él quiere que ellos dejen la idolatría, que su valor espiritual está ligada a su relación con Abraham.

Juan le dice a la multitud, compartir los abrigos y dar comida a quienes que no la tienen; les amonesta a los recaudadores de impuestos, recoger solamente lo que es necesario y no más; les instruye a los soldados que no abusen su poder, ni ser codiciosos. Esto es más que Juan diciendo a la gente a ser equitativo. Más bien, se está preparando la gente para una forma de ser diferente, una manera de ser en que la clave de la vida no se trata de esconderse del peligro, pero en realidad abarca la vulnerabilidad como una experiencia fundamental para nuestra vida humana común. No. Compartir sus abrigos, no acumular, porque al hacerlo, en abrirse a la vulnerabilidad, al hacerse vulnerable, te abres a la alegría.

En realidad, la profunda sabiduría de este domingo de la alegría reside en esta idea radical de que la alegría viene cuando nos preparamos a ser vulnerable. Profesor Brene Brown, de la Universidad de Houston, escribe en su último libro que "La vulnerabilidad es el núcleo de todas las emociones y sentimientos. Sentir es ser vulnerable. Impedir nuestra vida emocional por miedo que los costos son demasiado altos es alejarse de las cosas que dan sentido y significado a la vida." Vulnerabilidad, entonces, es una condición previa a la alegría. Nuestra capacidad para la alegría nunca puede ser mayor que nuestra voluntad de ser vulnerable.

Esto suena muy aterrador. Es especialmente aterrador cuando pensamos en el tiroteo que tuvo lugar en Connecticut, el pasado viernes. Cuando nos abrimos a la vulnerabilidad, nos abrimos al dolor, decepción, angustia, pena. Y las 28 personas muertas, 20 niños muertos, rompe todos nuestros corazones. Pero nuestra lección evangelica nos invita a prepararnos con almas abiertas y vulnerables para que la alegría puede penetrar. ¿Y esto, por supuesto, es lo que toda la historia que estamos preparando significa, no? La historia de Dios arriesgando el ser de Dios por hacerse humano, un humano terriblemente vulnerable, frágil y quebradizo, Emanuel, Dios con nosotros, Dios como nosotros. Adoramos a un Dios que arriesga todo, que nos invita a ser vulnerable, ante nosotros mismos, con los demás, para que podemos experimentar la alegría más allá de nuestras imaginaciones más fervientes.

Mi amigo Andy Marra sabe algo acerca de esta conexión íntima entre la vulnerabilidad y la alegría. El adoptado desde Corea, Andy anunció a sus padres adoptivos que era transgénero en 2003, pero vaciló sobre completar su transición antes de conocer a su familia desconocida en Corea. En 2010, Andy tuvo la oportunidad de visitar Corea, y en el último día de su viaje fue a una estación de policía pidiendo a un oficial para ayuda a encontrar a su madre. El funcionario se negó inicialmente con una respuesta larga y burocrática, pero Andy gritó: "¡Ayúdame! Tengo que encontrar a mis padres. He esperado toda mi vida para este momento. ¡Por favor, ayúdame!" En este momento de vulnerabilidad, algo cambió en la estación de policía, y dentro de dos horas, ella y su madre se reunieron por primera vez en casi tres décadas.

Dos semanas después, la madre de Andy, le preguntó: "¿Qué le preocupa? Usted parece preocupada por algo." Andy finalmente dijo a su madre: "Madre, yo no soy un niño. Soy una chica. Yo soy transgénero." Andy relata: "El silencio llenó la habitación. Busqué en los ojos de mi madre signos de choque, asco, o tristeza. Sin embargo, una expresión serena alineado su cara ... Entonces mi madre dijó: 'Mamá sabía. Estaba esperando que me digas.’’ Más tarde, se presentó con orgullo a Andy a su pastor de la iglesia como su hija trans. Recientamente en una conversación de Skype, la madre de Andy se inclinó hacia la pantalla de la computadora y le dijo: "Hija mía, eres hermosa." Andy y su madre coreana saben algo de la alegría que es posible cuando nos ponemos en riesgo a la manera en que Dios pone a sí mismo en riesgo.

Mis hermanos y hermanas, Dios nos invita a entrar en una vida de alegría más allá de nuestras imaginaciones más fervientes por invitarnos a la azarosa vida de la vulnerabilidad. Que podamos ser expuesto al riesgo de romperse, así como Cristo es quebrantado por nosotros. Y que podemos preparar nuestras vidas, compartiendo nuestros abrigos y todo lo que bloquea nuestro camino de ser profundamente vulnerable para que podemos llegar a saber la alegría que es el sueño de Dios para nosotros y para el mundo.

December 9, 2012 - Father Mark D. Stuart

“The voice of one calling in the wilderness: ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.’”

In the Name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

With Thanksgiving barely over the streets and malls are already decorated for Christmas and commercials and ads are convincing us to get into the holiday spirit (which of course involves spending money). Many of us are already preparing our homes and our schedules for the season we are convinced needs to observed with gusto. Thank God for Advent. While we shop, trim the tree, and plan parties, the Church is preparing, too, not for a holiday but for a Holy Day.

How does the Church prepare us for this Advent of the Christ? By immersing us in a different kind of beauty, a quieter, more reflective time with muted colors, shadows and light, one more candle on the wreath each week, the haunting melody of “O Come, O Come Emmanuel” running beneath our reflections, and stories from the Scriptures (both Old and New Testaments) which speak passionately and eloquently of God’s salvation about to break into the world to make us a whole and holy people.

But this week there are no familiar stories that we associate with Christmas.
We will get to that soon enough and we will hear about Mary’s visit to her cousin Elizabeth when Elizabeth’s child will leap for joy in her womb with the news of the coming Messiah. But this week we hear of Elizabeth’s child much later on, a grown man bursting onto the scene from out of the wilderness, a man on a mission from God. This time, instead of leaping for joy, he announces the time of God’s salvation by proclaiming a message of repentance and preparation of a different sort: This John the Baptist announces that the hour has come, the time is at hand for a radical change of heart, a course adjustment, a renewal of our spirits. People who introduce themselves as bearing a message from God do not commend themselves to us easily. If we do turn an ear to them out of curiosity, or perhaps out of an amused and sometimes horrified fascination, they tend to wear out their welcome quickly.

Yet one person in particular accepted John’s harsh style. One person admired his tenacity and single-mindedness, someone whose opinion we cannot dismiss. Jesus not only welcomed John’s ministry, he gave it the highest praise. Perhaps the overwhelming single attribute that commends John to us is that his whole being is directed to a focus beyond himself. He has hardly appeared on the scene when he insists that this is not about him but about preparation for another who is yet to come into public consciousness. The irony of John the Baptist’s life is that while he is passionately proclaiming his message of judgment on his own society, we come to realize what a magnificent person he is. It may be that he remains significant for us because he is the preparer (as he calls himself) for Jesus’ appearance. But John is far from being the warm-up act for the main attraction. He brings the music of his great humanity, his courage, his unaffected humility, his faithfulness in the face of suffering and death. No wonder Jesus thought the world of him.

What MapQuest had indicated was a real road was, in fact, a road under construction. He should have known, the man sighed to himself. When he had turned onto the road and left the main highway, there had been a warning: “Proceed at Your Own Risk. Construction Ahead.” But the sign gave no information about how long the stretch of construction was. Just past the turn-off the surface was paved, but there were no markings, just blacktop. After a few miles the asphalt gave way to gravel and a thin layer of tar. The smell of the tar and the sound of gravel bouncing up against the bottom of the car got the children’s attention. They had been sleeping in the back seat, dozing while the family made its way to the next stop on their vacation. They had slept while their father had driven them through this vast section of forested wilderness on their way to the lodge in a national park where they had reservations. “Are we there yet?” “How much farther?” “We have a ways to go,” said Dad as he rifled through the glove box looking to see if he still had an old-fashioned map in the car.

When the gravel ended and they hit dirt, he started to worry. It didn’t help that they seemed to be the only people on this road. Worse yet, what at first seemed to be dirt was actually mud. He decided to keep driving and hope that this was just a bad patch and that the “real” road was just ahead. It was clear, though, that the car had now begun to sink. The pinging noise of gravel against the car’s undercarriage had given way to a slurping sound as the tires kicked up mud and were then enveloped by it. “I just have to keep going,” he thought. “If I can just keep moving forward we’ll be alright, I’m sure.” But the mud deepened and the car became mired, sunk right up to the chassis. He gunned the engine but the car only sunk deeper. He turned off the engine. “What’s happening, Dad?” the children asked. “Are we there yet?” At first he thought about sarcastically answering, “Why yes we are. Look at all the fascinating scenery!” He thought about suing MapQuest or the highway department for their useless sign. But instead he told the children they would need to be patient and maybe they could teach him some songs they had learned in Sunday School while they waited for help to come by.

And help came – in the form of a tow truck with great big tires that traveled that stretch of road in case things like this happened. The car was towed back to the main road and directions were given for a much longer, but passable route to their destination. That part of the family vacation became known as the “repentance trip” because it embodied so well the definition of repentance – an active turning around, rather than continuing down the same path, going in the same direction that is leading nowhere or somewhere dangerous.

Repentance is not the same as remorse or regret. It is not listing all the ways things could have been done differently. It is not wishing you were a better person or that some things had never happened. It’s not feeling guilty or ashamed. It’s not feeling afraid. It’s not something that leaves us stuck, or standing still, or going nowhere. Repentance is about movement, allowing yourself to be grasped by God, getting your bearings, and relying on God for directions.

The new life that follows repentance, the new direction that comes with a fresh start is what John the Baptist is proclaiming in the wilderness. John’s message is a call to action. Repentance comes in many ways, when God turns us around, offers us a way to get unstuck, shows us how to move ahead with a new way of life.

It is Advent and during this darkest time of year there is a flicker of light. It beckons us. We yearn for it and are drawn toward it. It is enkindled in our hearts and can burn brightly in our lives if we but tend to it properly. It is the Advent of the Christ. The hour is coming for us to step into the Light.

Amen.

December 2, 2012 - Deacon Jim Lee

Good morning. This morning, I want to begin by talking about the things that I won’t preach about. This morning, I will not tell you that we should not put up our trees because it’s really Advent season and not Christmas. I will not talk about how awful it is that jingles and greens and holiday shopping begin earlier and earlier each year, how terrible it is that Black Friday began on Thursday evening. I won’t bedrudge you for stepping into a mall after Thanksgiving or clicking “purchase” this past Monday on some internet site. (And for honesty’s sake, I wasn’t immune from buying a thing or two.) If you catch yourself humming “Winter Wonderland” or “Deck the Halls,” I won’t shhh you. And I will certainly not admonish you that “Jesus is the reason for the season.” Most of all, I will not spend this morning exhorting you how a proper Episcopalian, a good Christian, is supposed to move into and in this season of Advent, this beginning of the Church calendar, this moment to wait for the approach of the coming of Christ.

To be frank, if your life is anything like mine, then you are exhausted. Between the frenetic buildup to Thanksgiving fare, and the relentless pace of everyday life hurtling toward December 25th, there is just so much whizzing by that it’s an effort to just stand still. Students are up all hours of the night cramming for finals; teachers are trying turn in grades before the 5 pm deadline. Doctors and nurses have clinics full of hacking patients; parents are holding stuffy children at 2 in the morning while they nurse their own colds. The last thing you and I need this morning is for the Church to tell us that we’re not doing Advent right, that there’s a right way and wrong way to prepare for Christmas, which is to not think about Christmas and not shop for our families and not sing until it’s the time to do so, as if to say that there’s a right way and a wrong way to be a follower of Christ. I think this Sunday of all Sundays, as we begin this season of waiting and watching, we need to remember these words: God loves you for who you are, God is certainly not disappointed in you, God’s child.

Because even in this season of Advent, this season of waiting and watching, of attentiveness and preparation, we can’t shut out the din and dynamism of the world. And God is not, nor should the church be, asking that we shut the world out. “There will be signs in the sun, the moon, and the stars,” Jesus says in Luke, “and on the earth distress among the nations confused by the roaring of the sea and waves. People will faint from fear and foreboding of what is coming upon the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken.” These words, inscribed two millennia ago, still resonate today: people on Staten Island and Brooklyn and Queens and the Jersey Shore are still rebuilding their lives and livelihoods shattered by the roaring of the seas a month ago. Parents and children in Gaza emerge from the rubble of their homes, the result of a week’s worth of bombing; meanwhile, a bus explodes in Tel Aviv. Civilians and combatants continue to die in Syria and women are still being slaughtered in Mexico. 17 US service personnel died in Afghanistan this month. Black teenagers are still being shot in Florida. And when we put down our newspapers, breathless and overwhelmed at these terrible signs of the times, there are still our own lives to contend with. Another week without work as my meager savings dwindles, what will I do? My teenager has started to venture out too far and too late, whom I can’t seem to talk to anymore. Utter fatigue as you care for your aging and dying parent, whom you love and who drives you crazy, and please can I just have one moment’s break from the onslaught of work and worry? The mother who holds the tiny hands of her baby wriggling in the NICU’s incubator, and prays that the lungs will develop and not get infected. The widow who wonders how she will make it through her first Christmas without her husband, still reeling from how hard Thanksgiving was. The young person who worries whether he’ll still be welcome at his family’s home or whether he’ll be alone this holiday. The patient whose December will be full of chemo appointments.

“Now, when these things begin to take place,” Jesus tells us, “stand up and raise your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.” The Gospel doesn't say “if” these things will happen, but “when” these things happen. Jesus knew, God knows, and we in the Church need to remember, that the world doesn’t stop, the travails and hardships of our lives, the big and the small, don't end for anyone or anything, not even Christmas, not even Jesus. But you know what? That’s the kind of God we’re waiting for during Advent, a God who doesn’t demand or even want us to perform some kind of perfect Christian or Episcopalian, a God who doesn’t ask you stop thinking about what ails you, to stop worrying, to pretend that you aren’t in the world. The God we are waiting for is the one who deigns to come into this world, who listens to and sits with all of our stories, especially those that break our hearts and God’s heart over and over. The God we wait and watch for tells us that in those moments when you and I are faint from fear and foreboding, that in those moments we stand up and raise our heads, for redemption, liberation is near, God is near. This God that we wait for during Advent comes to us in these moments of shadow and gently whispers in our ear, “I’ve been waiting for you too. I’m glad we found each other.”

And one of the ways, perhaps the most important way that God waits for us as we wait for God is through us. Philo of Alexandria, a Jewish contemporary of Jesus, said, “Be kind, for each person standing before you is waging a great battle.” This Advent season, be kind to the person in front of you, because even if this person is driving to the shopping mall, her heart may be breaking. Be kind to your child because he might be agonizing over being made fun of for looking and acting “different.” Be kind to your coworker because she may be reeling from the results of a biopsy. Be kind to the person standing in front of you, for you and I are waging great battles. God knows this. Jesus knows this. This is the God we are waiting for, and who waits for us.

My sisters and brothers, in a moment, we will all stand up and raise our heads and greet each other in the name of Christ. The person standing in front of you is waging a great battle, but that person is also God waiting for you as you wage yours. Be God to each other. Later, we will stand up and raise our heads as we wait for our redemption, a liberation made tangible at this table, where we meet Christ waiting for us, whoever you are and wherever you find yourself on the journey of faith, whatever battles you are waging. As we kneel to receive the bread and wine made holy, let God whisper in our ear, “I’m so glad you’ve come, I’ve been waiting for you. I’m so glad we found each other.” May we remember this Advent season to be kind to each other, whether or not we are humming carols, so that in our kindness we can wait for God waiting for us, God’s kindness breaking into the world and redeeming us all.





Buenos días. Esta mañana, quiero empezar por aclarar lo que no voy a predicar. Esta mañana, no voy a decir que no hay que poner árbol todavía porque es realmente tiempo de Adviento y la Navidad llega hasta el 24. No voy a hablar de lo horrible que es que los viancicos y ventas navideñas comienzan más temprano cada año, lo terrible es que el Viernes Negro comenzó el jueves por la noche. No te voy a criticar porque entraste a un centro comercial después de Acción de Gracias o hiciste clic en "comprar" el lunes pasado en algún sitio de internet. (Hablando honestamente, yo también me compré un par de cosas.) En caso de que te encuentres cantando "Noche de Paz", que no te callo. Tampoco te voy a decir que "Jesús es el motivo de la temporada." Sobre todo, no voy a pasar esta mañana exhortándoles cómo buen Episcopal, un buen cristiano, que te enfoques mejor en prepararte para la llegada de Cristo en este tiempo de Adviento.

Para ser franco, si tu vida es como la mía, usted está agotado. Entre las preparaciones frenéticas para el Día de Acción de Gracias, y el movimiento a alta velocidad hacia el 24 de diciembre, hay tantas cosas que requiere un gran esfuerzo mantenerse parado en un solo lugar. Los estudiantes se desvelan hasta altas horas de la noche estudiando para exámenes finales, los maestros luchan por reportar los grados antes del plazo de las 5 pm. Los médicos y enfermeras tienen clínicas llenas de pacientes de con tos, los padres calman a sus niños agripados a las 2 de la mañana, mientras que amamantan a sus propios resfriados. Lo que menos nos hace falta esta mañana es que la Iglesia nos diga que no estamos haciendo bien el Adviento, que hay una manera correcta y una manera incorrecta de prepararse para la Navidad, y lo correcto es no pensar en la Navidad y no comprar para nuestras familias y no a cantar hasta que sea el momento de hacerlo, como si nos fuera a decir que hay una manera correcta y una manera incorrecta de ser un seguidor de Cristo. Creo que este domingo entre todos los domingos, en este inicio de una temporada de esperar y ver, tenemos que recordar estas palabras: Dios te ama por lo que eres, Dios no se decepciona de ti, hijo de Dios.

Porque aun en este tiempo de Adviento, este tiempo de espera y observación, de atención y preparación, no podemos dejar fuera el ruido y el dinamismo del mundo. Y Dios no pide, ni tampoco debe pedir la iglesia, que nos cerremos al mundo. "Habrá señales en el sol, la luna y las estrellas", dice Jesús en Lucas, "y en la tierra angustia de las naciones por la confusión del bramido del mar y de las olas. La gente se desmayará de miedo y expectación de las cosas que vendrán sobre el mundo, porque las potencias de los cielos serán conmovidas "Estas palabras, inscrito hace dos mil años, aún resuenan hoy:. Gente de Staten Island y Brooklyn y Queens y Jersey Shore todavía están reconstruyendo sus vidas y medios de subsistencia destrozados por el huracán hace un mes. Los padres y niños en Gaza salen de entre los escombros de sus casas, el resultado de una semana de bombardeos, mientras tanto, un autobús explota en Tel Aviv. Los civiles y los combatientes siguen muriendo en Siria y las mujeres siguen siendo masacrados en México. 17 personal de servicio estadounidenses murieron en Afganistán este mes. Siguen baleando a los adolescentes negros en Florida. Y cuando dejamos de leer los periódicos, sin aliento y abrumados por estos terribles signos de los tiempos, aún existen nuestras propias vidas que lidiar. Otra semana sin trabajo ya que mis escasos ahorros disminuyen, ¿qué voy a hacer? Mi hijo adolescente ha comenzado a aventurarse demasiado lejos y demasiado tarde, y siento que ya no comunicación. Cuidas a tus padres mientras envejecern y mueren, y los amas y que te vuelven locos, y por favor, ¿puedo tener un momento de descanso de la avalancha de trabajo y preocupación? La madre que toca las pequeñas manos de su bebé en la incubadora UCIN, y ruega que los pulmones se desarrollan y no se infecten. La viuda se pregunta cómo va a pasar su primer Navidad sin su marido, todavía agotada por lo difícil que fue Thanksgiving. El joven que se preocupa si todavía será bienvenido en la casa de su familia o si va a estar solo este día de fiesta. El paciente cuyo diciembre estará lleno de citas de quimioterapia.

"Ahora, cuando estas cosas comiencen a suceder," Jesús nos dice, "de pie y levantad vuestra cabeza, porque vuestra redención está cerca." El Evangelio no dice "si" estas cosas lleguen a suceder, sino "cuándo" estas cosas pasen. Jesús sabía lo que Dios sabe, y nosotros, en la Iglesia debemos de recordar, que el mundo no se detiene, las tribulaciones y dificultades de la vida, los grandes y los pequeños, no terminan por nada ni nadie, ni siquiera en Navidad, ni siquiera por Jesús. Pero, ¿sabes qué? Esa es la clase de Dios que estamos esperando en el Adviento, un Dios que no exige que seas algún tipo ideal cristiano o episcopal, un Dios que no pide que dejes de pensar en lo que te pasa, o dejes de preocuparte, o vivas como si estuviera en el mundo. El Dios que estamos esperando es el que se digna venir a este mundo, que se sienta y escuche nuestras historias, especialmente los que rompen el corazón tuyo y el corazón de Dios una y otra vez. El Dios que esperamos ver nos dice que en los momentos en que usted y yo desmayamos por el temor y la expectación, que en esos momentos nos pongamos de pie y levantemos la cabeza, porque la redención, la liberación está cerca, Dios está cerca. Este Dios que esperamos que durante el Adviento viene a nosotros en estos momentos de sombra y suavemente susurra en nuestros oídos: "Te he estado esperando. Me alegro que nos hayamos encontrado.”

Y una de las maneras, quizás la forma más importante que Dios nos espera mientras esperamos a Dios es a través de nosotros. Filón de Alejandría, un judío contemporáneo de Jesús, dijo: "Sea bueno, porque cada persona parada delante de ti está enfrentando una gran batalla." Este tiempo de Adviento, sé amable con la persona que está delante de ti, porque incluso si esta persona va manejando hacia el centro comercial, puede ser que su corazón esté hecho pedazos. Sé amable con su hijo porque podría estar sufriendo por que se burlaran de él por verse o actuar "diferente". Sé amable con su compañero de trabajo porque ella puede estar sufriendo los resultados de una biopsia. Sé amable con la persona que está delante de ti, porque tú y yo estamos enfrentando grandes batallas. Dios lo sabe. Jesús lo sabe. Este es el Dios que estamos esperando, y que nos espera.

Mis hermanos y hermanas, en un momento, todos se pondrán de pie a levantar la cabeza y saludarse en el nombre de Cristo. La persona que está delante de ti está enfrentando una gran batalla, pero esa persona es también Dios que te espera para librarte. Sé Dios el uno para otro. Luego, se pondrán de pie a levantar la cabeza a la espera de nuestra redención, la liberación hecha tangible en esta mesa, donde nos encontramos con Cristo que nos espera, sea quien sea y donde sea que te encuentres en el camino de la fe, sean lo que sean tus batallas. Al arrodillarse para recibir el pan y el vino hecho santo, Dios susurra al oído: "Estoy tan contenta de que hayas venido, te he estado esperando. Estoy tan contenta de habernos encontrado aquí." Que recordemos en este tiempo de Adviento ser amables unos con otros, sea o no sea con unos villancicos tempranos, para que en nuestra bondad, podamos esperar que Dios nos espere, la bondad de Dios llegando al mundo para redimir a todos.

November 18, 2012 - Father Mark D. Stuart

I remember very well my visit to NYC in the winter of 1973/1974 as a young college student. Of course, at the top of my sight-seeing list was the brand new World Trade Center Tower. I had never been up so high and my ears popped as the elevator seemed to ascend endlessly to the top of the tower. After all the publicity I was tremendously impressed to personally visit these grand icons representing humanity’s zenith of ability to use steel and ingenuity. They stood for world trade, commerce, capitalism at its finest, and making profits and lots of money. I could never have imagined in my wildest dreams that they would ever come down in such shocking tragedy and mayhem within my lifetime. Their tragic fate would simply be inconceivable to me and to everyone else – they represented stability and prosperity more than anything. When they were destroyed in the terrorist attacks of 9/11 we watched them tumble in utter shock and disbelief.

As the disciples of Jesus looked at the great Temple in Jerusalem, they could not help but remark at the grandeur of the place and its certain eternal quality that made its demise inconceivable, much like I considered the World Trade Center when I first saw it. But was the Temple really eternal? In our Gospel lesson today Jesus says it is not – in fact, it would come to an end with not one stone left upon another – which indeed happened in the year 70 AD after the unsuccessful Jewish revolt against Rome. We can only guess at the disciples’ reaction, but it is recorded that they were anxious to know when that would happen.

You know there is always a great deal of emotion in anticipation of “the day”, whether that be a wedding day, the first day of vacation, the opening day of your favorite sport, or beginning a new venture – to name but a few. In such cases, not only is the day enjoyed for itself; it also promises many more wonderful days in the future. On the other hand, there are some days that we approach with fear and dread in our hearts, such as the day we lose a job, or the day a loved one dies – these days thrust us into sadness and we often struggle with them in the darkness.

The Day of the Lord was always a day of anticipation for the people of ancient Israel. Originally it was perceived as a day of fulfillment. It was the moment in history when all of the promises made by God would come to completion, and the people of God would enjoy them forever – promises of peace and prosperity, of contentment and harmony. Many of the prophets looked forward to that day and described it in terms that are reminiscent of the Garden of Eden. Jesus claimed that this long-awaited day was dawning as he inaugurated the reign of God. But the shortcomings and sinfulness of the people required that there first be a period of purging and preparation before that fulfillment could come to pass. For this reason, some of the prophets warned that the Day of the Lord would first be a day of suffering. In fact, they even compared such an event to the pangs that precede birth, a symbol of new life coming out of suffering – the “birth pangs of the messiah” they called it.

Like all the Bible’s depictions of the future, these descriptions are symbolic in nature. Therefore, these readings leave most Episcopalians ill at ease and puzzled and they relegate such messages to fundamentalist televangelists ranting about the end of the world. End of time predictions over the years have constantly had to be revised, whether they originated in televangelists or other sources. Remember all the hype over the Y2K bug that was supposed to crash our infrastructure and bring all commerce and society as we know it to an end leading to chaos and mayhem? Many waited with baited breath when the clock struck 12 on January 1st 2000 – and then… nothing. Now we have the supposed 2012 Mayan doomsday prophecy… and when that passes uneventfully I’m sure there will be another.

But thankfully, such end of time obsession has never been a part of mainstream Anglican thought, rather we acknowledge that we live between times, not focused on the end of time. Indeed, we as a nation may be living with a sense of fear and anxiety. We have seen the devastating effects of hurricanes, terrorist attacks and threats, oil spills, volcanoes, foreign wars, and the worst economy since the Great Depression. We look desperately to make some sense out of these catastrophes, but fear must not lead us to those false prophets Jesus warns us about.

Jesus word to his disciples and to us is that we need only listen to and trust him and him alone. But we, like them, want more – we want to know the exact signs when the Day of Fulfillment will come. But Jesus tells us that the signs of his final coming will be obvious – we don’t have to delve into esoteric or mysterious means to perceive them. We don’t have to read the tea leaves or get out the Ouija boards, or decipher Mayan inscriptions to look for signs when the end is near – he says, “Trust me, you’ll know it when it comes.” We don’t have to act like the little kid on the long road trip who keeps asking every 10 minutes, “Are we there yet?” In a sense, it is always near, and when we get there we’ll know.

The kingdom is near, and we must live like it’s coming with all its fullness soon. We are not so much looking for signs, as we are the signs. We are the signs before the signs. We live the heavenly life here on earth, pointing to God’s good future and final victory. We are the people who have read the Book to the end: we know how the story ends. We know God wins. We don’t wait for the world to change – we can go ahead and be changed now.

Amen.

November 4, 2012 - Father Mark D. Stuart

Our Gospel lesson today leads us in an ostensibly somber direction this All Saints’ Sunday. We are thrust into the sad a grieving household of Mary and Martha of Bethany whose brother Lazarus has just died. It is difficult, if not nearly impossible; to convey in words the experience of the profound loss of someone you are very close to and love very much. Those of us who have been compelled to journey this dark path can feel genuine empathy with Mary and Martha as they greet Jesus. Grieving is an exhausting, confusing jumble of emotions not to be analyzed or explained and confounding even the most rational and stable persons among us.

Lazarus was Jesus’ friend, as were Mary and Martha; so their accusation to him that their brother would not have died had Jesus come earlier, affected him deeply. In one of the most poignant scenes in the Bible we see the Son of God weep. Jesus loved Lazarus and he weeps at the grave of his friend. Yes, this is understandable in Jesus’ humanity, but if anyone believed in the resurrection, it would have been Jesus. “Jesus wept.” This shows that grief is not unchristian.

Christ wept at the death of his friend. We too weep over the graves of those we love. On this All Saints’ Sunday as we remember not just the great Saints of the Church, but also the saints in our own lives, and we remember those we love who have died. The remembrance is bittersweet, full of the joy of the memories and the sorrow for the empty place in our lives from the loss. It is a sorrow that does not go away. Grief is bitter and traumatic and eventually it grows into mourning, but it is real and stays with you. The loss remains and so does the sorrow. We pray for the unbearable sense of loss to be changed into a sorrow and mourning we can at least bear. In this, as Christians, we are significantly aided by the truth of the resurrection.

Just prior to where our lesson from St. John’s Gospel begins Jesus said, “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.” Jesus knew people would continue to die; the mortality rate is 100%. He taught that not only do we find death in the midst of life, but we find life in the midst of death. There really is no death, only passage to new wonders. Or to quote James Barrie’s Peter Pan, “To die will be such an awfully big adventure!” This is why Christians praise God even at the graveside of a beloved.

Still, this is not to deny the pain of separation. But we praise a God who truly knows our pain and our grief. We praise a God present in Jesus Christ who himself experienced loss and grief, who himself wept at the grave of his friend Lazarus, even knowing full well he was going to raise him. Death was no stranger to Jesus who also lost his father Joseph, and undoubtedly many others he knew, as we all have. In becoming human, God was and is with us in Jesus in a way that caused him to experience the depths of human emotions, especially pain and loss. Through my own experience I have come to recognize that grief and love are close companions and that grief is the measure of your love: if you didn’t love deeply, then you wouldn’t grieve deeply. It is a difficult price to pay, but one that is worth paying, because love is our greatest gift from the Creator. If God is love as Scripture tells us, then God knows grief.

God is not distant and reserved – God is close, caring, and compassionate. We are told in Scripture that the time is coming when God will wipe away every tear from our eyes and the world will be so transformed that we will never have to live through physical death and grief. Yet in the here and now there are many tragedies, personal, and national, and international which may cause people to question their faith. In these cases people may plead, “Where is God?” The answer is, “With us.” God is there in the midst of suffering, present with those in pain, as one who learned the depths of human suffering while living among us. Realizing that Christ knows how it feels to experience the death of a loved one, we can perhaps realize that we have an empathetic God.

Jesus calls, “Come out!” Come out from the grave. Grief is real, but loss is not the end. Jesus said, “Unbind him and let him go” to those around Lazarus, and he says the same to us. We are to be unbound, set free from the power of death. This is why All Saints’ Day is a joyful celebration with white vestments, triumphant music, and splendid prayers. The Saints we honor this day, that vast, innumerable, great cloud of witnesses were people of joy who acknowledged death but knew death had no power over them. They aren’t afraid to live with both the tragic and the glorious. They are not embarrassed to struggle with the dichotomy of life and death, good and evil, heaven and hell. The Saints are those who accept an adventuresome risk and know the great therapy for fear: to take God seriously. They are called forth into the dark unknown to reach a triumphant goal, the place of delight, free from fear’s control. Perhaps you have known some saints. Perhaps you know some now. Perhaps you are one of these saints, dwelling at least in part in that world of peaceful delight.

On this Feast of All Saints’ we remember those who have gone before and pray that we may be blessed to follow them. The Saints assembled in their glorious ranks are a promise of our happy return home, with hearts glad and eyes open to the wonder of God – and that is indeed something to celebrate, today and always!

Amen.

AMOS: Health and Hope

Saturday, November 3

               Reservations Requested

For more information, please read this informational document.

The dream for AMOS began in 1967 with the work of Dr. Gustavo Parajón. Faced with overwhelming need in the poorest rural communities of Nicaragua, Dr. Parajón frequently remarked:

“In Nicaragua, a doctor shouldn’t just be a doctor; a doctor must also be a teacher.”

This vision for empowerment gave birth to a broad health care initiative that continues to focus on local leadership development. The heart of Dr. Parajón’s work focused on the communities themselves, teaching local people to provide basic primary health care services, thereby dramatically reducing unnecessary illness and death. This focus on strengthening communities through education and preventive care lives on in AMOS today under the direction of Drs. David & Laura Parajón with the many AMOS workers in Managua and the rural communities, and with volunteers from all over the world.

Come and meet the directors of AMOS, Drs. David and Laura Parajón and learn about the excellent work they are doing with local leaders in rural Nicaragua communities.

October 21, 2012 - Father Mark D. Stuart

With our Stewardship Sunday two weeks ago including the inspiring remarks by Julie Chay and last week’s Gospel relating the rich young ruler coming to Jesus with Our Lord’s subsequent proclamations on material possessions and wealth; I thought it might be appropriate to continue this theme as each and every one of us now prays about our pledge commitment to God’s work in this place for the important upcoming year.

I shall begin on a somber note: Some years ago the evening news carried a story about a young high school senior who got into his brand new yellow Corvette, drove away from his family’s multi-million dollar home to a nearby park, hooked up a hose from the car’s exhaust pipe to inside of the car and there died of self-inflicted carbon monoxide asphyxiation. He was a good-looking boy, a good student, rather quiet, had never caused problems and left a shocked and grieving family asking, “Why did he do it? We gave him everything he could have ever wanted?” A tragic tale about our culture of materialism which can strangle us even while we are still young.

If you take a child, even a very young child, into Toys R Us, you will not have to teach the child what to do. Hours of training by the media have taught every child that there is no higher calling than consumption and materialism. On the other hand, for many children going to church on Sunday can be a disorienting, confusing experience where they are not sure what to do. What does that say about human nature and the society in which we live? Alas, it is as if self-gratification, even greed comes quite naturally to us. But it is also a sad observation that our culture has become a vast supermarket where we are trained to desire more things.

We live in a world of manufactured need where advertising preys on our insecurities and kindles desire; we become pliable victims ever wanting more and more. Such desire becomes contagious, imitative and puts us in conflict with our fellow human beings. Whatever our neighbor has that we don’t have diminishes us, because we have built our self-image on what we have and when we lack, we are less of a person; and so run on an endless treadmill of acquisition that can never be satisfied. The socialist calls capitalism “legalized greed” and the capitalist calls socialism “legalized envy” – there is a matter of truth in both claims.

I remember as a little boy about 8 or 9 years old, being taught the great stories from the Bible in Sunday School. Of course, the Books of Genesis and Exodus and King David’s life in the Books of Samuel, so full of action, adventure, and intrigue, provided the most exciting and interesting stories for a little boy. In the New Testament, like most kids I guess, I mostly loved the miracles of Jesus – raising a dead child to life, walking on the water and calming a ferocious storm, feeding 5,000 people, and a woman being healed by merely touching the hem of his tunic. And then there were his parables – “earthly stories with a heavenly meaning” our Sunday School teacher told us – great stories about a treasure hidden in a field, a pearl of great value, a lost coin, frivolous bridesmaids, a lamp hidden by a bushel, a misbehaving prodigal son… and then there was a rich farmer who had it made; in fact he had to build more and more storehouses for all amassed until he proclaimed: “And I will say to my soul, ‘Soul, you have ample goods laid up for many years: take your ease, eat, drink, be merry.’ But God said to him, ‘Fool! This night your soul is required of you!” (Luke 12:13-21)

And that parable I remember the most, having the greatest impact on me, even as a child – I suspect because it shocked me so much. I was a materialistic youngster; I loved my toys and games and stuffed animals, my own bedroom, and all my things. As I grew into adulthood I still loved and love my things, but thankfully now after the decades and some hard lessons along the way I have come to realize that they are not really mine and that I am only using them; like the antiques I cherish so much which belonged to other people and witnessed their lives and dreams and hopes and sorrows; I know that when I die they will belong to someone else.

The rich man in the shocking parable is wise by the world’s standards, one most would admire for leaving nothing to chance, well prepared for the future. Except for one very important thing: He does not have a future. God says to him, ‘Fool! This night your soul is required of you; and the things you prepared, whose will they be?” “So it is”, says Jesus who adds the punch line, “with those who store up treasures for themselves but are not rich toward God.”

The great irony is that the man in the story has done everything “right.” We would call him a success by the standards of our society. He is a prudent businessman, a shrewd investor, he has the “good life” And yet our Lord calls him a “fool”! We don’t find that pejorative word all that frequently in Holy Scripture. But we do find it in the 53rd Psalm where we read, “The fool says in his heart there is no God.” To the Psalmist, a fool is anyone who lives as if God were not. And Jesus calls this businessman a fool. It seems like there is a connection between the atheistic fool of the Psalms and the materialist fool in the parable. There is a definite link between lack of godliness and greed. The rich man says, ‘Soul take ease’ but that is precisely what we cannot take in our human condition.

The Christian faith challenges us - it is not that we desire, but that we desire too little. With no proper object for our desires, we breathlessly run headlong toward everything, believing that we are in charge and that the “good times” will last forever. In our state of disoriented desire we transmute love into lust, achievement into possessiveness and vocation into drudgery. St. Augustine put it best when he wrote in his ‘Confessions’, “You have made us for yourself, O Lord, and our hearts are restless until they rest in you.”

Many have an illusion of control because they believe they can have all their needs met by industry, effort, and material things. Yet it is precisely this illusion that takes us furthest from God and impoverishes our spirit. The rich man made the mistake made by so many in believing that he really possessed his great wealth, although Jesus correctly points out that in fact, it possessed him. It is reported that film magnate Sam Goldwyn on being told that he couldn’t take it with him replied, “Well then, I just won’t go.” But that is not an option.

We must be clear that Jesus’ parable about the rich fool is not a plug for the annual budget. Rather, it is about the blessing of stewardship in the fullest sense of the word. It is about our basic spiritual health and relationship to God and one another. It is about our priorities and making positive choices in offering back a conscious proportion of what has been so generously given to us.

The question posed by the parable challenges us to live a life that matters: the life of the Gospel, a life for others and not just for our own self-centered pleasures. We are promised the best gift of all – freedom from worrying about our possessions and future. Not only can we give up our long cherished treasures and illusions of wealth and mastery, we must do so in order to abandon ourselves to the extravagant abundance of God’s love. This is risky business of course. But with great risk (in the case of Gospel-living) comes the promise of great reward. Too often, like the rich fool we live as if we did not know that… or believe it. But lucky for us, God never fails to lavish his gifts and treasure upon us in spite of our own spiritual miserliness. Most of us pray, perhaps daily, reminding God of our perceived needs and petty wants. We would all be terribly put-out and inconvenienced if God suddenly could not be bothered any longer with our affairs and pleadings, if God felt there were more important things to be concerned with, like the theory of relativity or the Heisenberg uncertainty principle. Yet the wonder is that each one of us matters far more to God than stars colliding in far away galaxies, high speed Internet access, H D plasma televisions, or the latest iPhone.

The rich and foolish man tore down his barns and built bigger ones. He opened more bank accounts, invested in high-tech start-ups, raked in his profits. Nothing wrong with that… Except God invites us to invest our resources and ourselves in the Kingdom of Heaven.

The story is told that at the funeral of the fabulously wealthy Aristotle Onassis, one of the mourners turned to another and asked, “How much did he leave?” And his friend replied, “Everything. He left everything.”

Discernment Committee Update!

By the time you read this, the candidate interviews will be finished, and your Discernment Committee will be in the process of visiting a select group of rector candidates, in their home parishes. Two or three members of the Committee will be visiting each of the chosen candidates, and will spend time getting to know him or her over a weekend. During this weekend, the Committee members will interview pre-identified members of the candidate’s parish and/or other people in the candidate’s life, to find out more about the candidate and his or her ministry and leadership style. Also, the Committee members will attend a service led by the candidate, including listening to a sermon. Once these visits are completed, the Discernment Committee will gather once again to choose the final three candidates to be presented to the vestry.

As the chair of the Discernment Committee, I have been incredibly blessed with an amazing group of dedicated Messiah members. All of us love this parish and are committed to seeking God’s direction as we move forward. Here are some thoughts by Committee members regarding the interviews, which were held over two weeks in August:

“I have been uplifted by the candidates' expressions of their deep calling to ministry. It has reminded me that God calls us all to bring about His Kingdom. Their questions and responses challenge me to expand my understanding of the mission of the church and inspire me to look forward to the work yet to be done.”—Leonora Will

“It was great to finally see and hear each candidate on video and get a feel for their personalities. We had questions for each, but often it was their questions for us that were quite revealing. I had definite feelings of excitement interacting with certain ones especially. One of them will be our new rector! I am blessed to be part of this wonderful discernment group.”—Janet Hryniewicki

“This process has led us to question constantly our ideas of the identity of Church of the Messiah and to probe the difference between what makes us comfortable and what may be the way we are called to grow into the future. Also, we are seeing that the call to a new Rector will be a watershed both in that person’s life and in our life, and will require strenuous adjustments on both sides.”—Biff Baker

“This has been an exciting process, full of possibilities for Messiah's future. By interacting with the candidates, we have been learning about ourselves, as the Messiah community. As the candidates answered our thoughtful questions, we heard how they feel and believe about what our parish feels and believes. As they asked us questions, sometimes we got so excited answering and telling them about Messiah, that we had to stop, as we talked so much we had to remind ourselves that they had more questions for us. In each interview, the room was energized with the Holy Spirit who has been with us every step of the way. The Discernment Committee is a wonderful group so dedicated to the charge to recommend 3 candidates to the vestry to lead Messiah into the future, and I feel so blessed to have been part of this amazing experience.”—Carol Harvey

Please keep Messiah, the Discernment Committee and the candidates in your prayers as we move into the final stages of this process.

Hispanic Heritage Lunch & Program

Sunday, October 28

10:15 a.m. Bilingual Eucharist

11:30 - 2 p.m. Luncheon

Wonderful Latin Food and musical program

Adults $10.00

Children $5.00

Stewardship Brunches

Join us after each service

Sunday, October 7.

Please bring breads, cheeses, or prepared egg dishes to share.

Blessing of the Animals

Saturday, October 6 at 10 a.m.

Bring your pets, photos of your pets, or even a stuffed animal to the church patio for a Blessing, a photo of you with your pet, and special pet treats too!

Friends of Music Presents...

Live organ music by Chris Elliott

Saturday, October 27 at 7 pm 

in the Sanctuary!

(Not Appropriate for small children.)

September 23, 2012 - Father Mark D. Stuart

What is the point of pursuing wisdom? Well, to become wise. That is, wisdom is its own end, or its own reward. This is sort of answer may suffice for philosophers (those who are “lovers of wisdom”), but St. James has other ideas. The wise person does not demonstrate wisdom primarily by thinking wise thoughts or uttering wise sayings. Rather, he or she lives a life punctuated by “deeds of gentleness born of wisdom.” St. James elaborates on this by noting that the wisdom from above is “pure, peaceable, gentle, willing to yield, full of mercy and good fruits.” Wisdom is not just a contemplative attainment, but must manifest itself in particular actions.

In our Gospel lesson today from St. Mark, Jesus introduces the issue that is the lynchpin of all Christian wisdom: the Cross. The Cross is the central moment at which the wisdom of God is displayed against the wisdom of the world. Christ’s true wisdom is self-giving, self-offering obedience to God for the benefit of others. Sadly, the disciples seem unable to grasp this as anything like wisdom.

This becomes even more obvious in the second part of our reading from St. Mark. As they walk along, the disciples argue and discuss which one of them is the greatest. Who is Jesus’ star pupil? But interestingly Jesus does not rebuke and reprimand them for aspiring to greatness. This, for Jesus, becomes a “teachable moment.”

It seems the problem is that apart from understanding the Cross, it is impossible to understand how becoming the last of all and servant of all constitutes greatness. The way of the Cross is no less confounding today. Because of this many speak of Christianity as a set of skills that one learns to practice, the way one learns the skills necessary to be a woodworker or a research chemist. But the practice of our faith is not as simple and tidy as learning a set of skills in order to become an expert.

Which brings us back to the disciples on the road. Not surprisingly, once inside the house in Capernaum Jesus is unimpressed by the disciples’ little argument about who is the greatest. It was Will Rogers who once commented that, “It is more important to be human than it is to be important.” Looking around for help to make his point, Jesus sits down, calls his disciples to gather round, and brings a young child into the group. Now to most adults of the time and certainly to adult male disciples focused on their alpha male teacher, children were of no consequence.

Think about that in our own day, as well. Children are the most vulnerable, least empowered persons in all societies. They cannot take care of themselves by earning a living and buying the necessities of food, clothing, and shelter. They cannot vote and do not pay taxes. Children are totally dependent and at the mercy of adults. They represent the most weak and defenseless qualities of humanity, although they frequently are precocious and have definite opinions.

Take for instance the Sunday School class of fourth-graders who were quizzed by their teacher one day. “Does anyone know what today is?” the teacher asked. Immediately a hand flew up from the back of the class and the little girl blurted out, “Today is Palm Sunday.” “Why, yes, you’re right,” the teacher proudly responded. “And does anyone know what next Sunday is?” Again the same little hand shot up, “Yes, I know – it’s Easter Day when Jesus rose from tomb!” And before the teacher could congratulate her, she continued, “But if he sees his shadow he has to go back in for another 6 weeks!”

Jesus sets just such a child on his lap in the midst of the disciples and tells them that they should treat her as they would treat him! The greatest, then is the one who is the least in the eyes of the world. The least in the eyes of the world is the one no one bothers to even see, the invisible one. As with the child Jesus embraces as his stand-in, He is the invisible Lord, whose greatness comes from his identification with all those in his day, as well as ours, whom we do not see because they simply are not important enough: the day laborers outside the Home Depot; the man on disability who cannot afford food once he has to purchase his medications; the single mother who has to work two minimum wage jobs to barely get by providing for her children; the senior citizen alone in the world with all her friends and spouse gone; the list is endless – we see these people every day, but we don’t really see them, because they are the invisible ones to us.

Maybe the true wisdom Jesus is trying to teach his disciples might be summed up by saying: “Start seeing the invisible.” Not because it is virtuous to do so, so that we congratulate ourselves on being the greatest at seeing. The wisdom of the Cross is the same wisdom that is capable of welcoming a child or any other invisible person of no consequence to the world in Christ’s name.

Too often Christians appear to view greatness just as everyone else does. Frequently, we rank parishes, clergy, or church members by the same standards of success the world does. Perhaps we should instead listen carefully to St. James’ list of attributes that constitute wisdom with his underscoring admonition: “Draw near to God and He will draw near to you.” Start seeing the invisible because to receive the invisible one is to receive Jesus and to receive Jesus is to receive God.

I give the last word to St. James: “Who is wise and understanding among you? Show by your good life that your works are done with gentleness born of wisdom.”

September 16, 2012 - Father Mark D. Stuart

In our Gospel lesson today from St. Mark, we are told that Jesus came into the district of Caesarea Philippi and asked the disciples, “Who do the people say that I am?” This was in essence the final exam question for them after an in-depth Jesus seminar. The disciples had lived every waking hour with Jesus for several years; they had heard him preach. He had taught them about the Kingdom of God in parables. They had seen him walk on water, still the storm, heal the sick, raise the dead. So, now Jesus wants to know how much has sunk in; what they had learned. This was the “$64,000 question.” What would the correct answer be? How much had they learned?

In Dietrich Bonhoeffer’s Letters and Papers From Prison, the question is raised: Who is Jesus Christ for us today? Imprisoned in a land whose long tradition of Christianity did so little to oppose the Nazi evil that was to end his own life along with millions of others, Bonhoeffer could at that point no longer be content to point to traditional answers to such a question. The question still stands for us today and it is not one that must be asked only in the midst of terror or imprisonment. Whoever we are and wherever we may be, in apparent safety or in peril and affliction and dire need - if we are to relate to Christ at all, each individual must define what Jesus’ identity means in a particular sense, to find the meaning of the fulfilled life our Lord offers.

“Who do the people say that I am?” Jesus asks. The spiritual inspiration and setting for this question and the answer to be given is a turning point in the Gospel - from the mostly popular Galilean ministry of teaching, preaching, and healing - to the way of the Cross. And so the disciples chime in with all conventional thought about Jesus’ identity: “A prophet, Jeremiah, Elijah, John the Baptist,” and so on. All wrong. So, Jesus asks again more pointedly, “But who do you say that I am?” And it was actually the impulsive, bungling, likeable Peter who got the answer right, jumping in as quick as a Santa Ana parking ticket to say: You are the Messiah!

Something new was happening to Peter and the followers of Jesus - in them and around them. They were as Paul put it in Romans, “justified by his grace as a gift... to be received by faith.” This is considerably more than what Mark Twain once quipped: “Faith is believing what you know just ain’t so.” But the theologian, Paul Tillich, spoke of this experience as the adventure of faith. He said: “Faith does not mean the belief in assertions for which there is no evidence. It never meant that in genuine religion and never should be abused in this sense. Faith means being grasped by a power that is greater than we are, a power that shakes us and turns us and transforms us and heals us. Surrender to this power is faith. The people whom Jesus could heal and can heal are those who did and do this self-surrender to the healing power in him.”

This faith is never something set apart from life. It is not something reserved for Sunday more so than Monday. It is not a badge of righteousness, but the radiating center of action that permeates all of life. It is not a just an empty creed, but the axis upon which life turns. “You are the Christ,” Peter said, because he had been grasped and turned and transformed by the power of God in Jesus. And what did this mean? It meant a re-centering of life around Christ. Peter’s faith, then became the rock on which Jesus said he would build the Church.

Thomas Merton said, “If you want to know who I am, don’t ask me where I live or what I like to eat or how I comb my hair. Ask me what I am living for and push me on it. Ask me what I think is keeping me from living for the thing I want to live for.” Faith is the engraced desire to live for Jesus. So many of us balk at surrendering to this power in Jesus because we do not trust what God wants to work in us through the power of faith. Jesus challenges us, as He did Peter and all the disciples, to become children of God, rock-like in our commitment to following him, following him all the way…

But what then is the true way, the Way of the Cross? First, it is being grasped by the unconditional grace and unlimited power of God in Christ, saying yes to it from the depths of one’s soul. It is the experience of allowing oneself to be a child of God; it is totally free, full of love and joy and peace. Secondly, out of this primary experience, it is listening to and for the gifts God is giving us to act Christ-like in the world. In our new life in Christ, the way of the world will be confronted and this may be painful – that is what Our Lord is talking about in today’s Gospel. It is sincerity of actions, not empty lip-service that characterizes the genuine followers of Jesus... not to become ineffective “pet rocks” of Christ, but to part of the very bedrock of his strength to a foolish and shifting world.

Fear is something we all have experienced at some time, to one degree or another. But fear inhibits living life to the fullest. Faith and trust liberate us through real life in the Spirit & are gifts we all need to cherish and nurture. There are some people who demonstrate a tremendous trust in God, even under the worst of circumstances; but most of us are challenged in our ability to do so. Yet, the extraordinary thing is that we are, indeed, capable of great trust and faith in our everyday affairs. We begin each morning demonstrating trust by not worrying whether the sun will rise that day, or if the floor will be under our feet when we jump out of bed. Yet, admittedly, trust and faith are hard attributes to maintain in these difficult times.

When we are at peace with ourselves, personally through trust and faith and through harmony with our fellow human beings; we have then achieved the wisdom of building our house on the rock of Christ allowing us the ability to be able to experience the full power of the Spirit; reaching out with empathy and compassion in the service we are called to do.

Amen.

Greetings from your Discernment Committee Chair!

As you will see, our Rose Window is slowly but surely being filled in. The Discernment Committee has been working diligently and prayerfully to determine the next rector of our parish. As you read this, your Discernment Committee will have completed the interviews of the candidates and will probably be in the process of conducting parish visits. During these visits, members of the Committee will go in groups to visit the candidate’s parish and attend a service. After these visits, the Committee will meet to decide which names will be presented to the vestry. Our Committee is completely aware of the amazing responsibility with which we have been entrusted. Please continue to keep the Committee, as well as the candidates, in your prayers as we search of the next rector of this great church.

September 2, 2012 - Father Mark D. Stuart

I am sure we all have had a similar proper meal training as children: Sit up straight! Elbows off the table! Napkin in your lap! Wait until your mother begins to eat before you start! Do not talk with your mouth full! The Germans in their Teutonic specificity have two different words for eating: one for humans (“essen”) and one for animals (“fressen”) If your eating habits are characterized by the latter, you are in big trouble or the target of a supreme insult!

The rituals associated with eating begin early in a child’s life and grow more complex with our journey toward maturity. In every culture these rituals are one of the ways the “in” group holds itself apart from the “out” group. Those who are like “us” eat the same foods the same way we do. This true for many in mid-America throughout their lives and we who live in a large cosmopolitan area are indeed blessed to experience the diversity of cultures expressed in the variety of cuisines available to us.

Though we can embrace the mystery of our differences when it comes to food, at the time of Our Lord, dietary laws were a very serious matter for most Jews. Many struggled to hold on to their identity after the Temple was destroyed and even after it was rebuilt, identity was important in a world dominated by strong hellenizing and Romanizing pagan influences. In today’s Gospel reading the Pharisees noticed that Jesus’ disciples had not performed the precisely correct ritual cleansing before they eat: they had broken with tradition.

Our Lord encounters their slavish adherence to traditions with a holier-than-thou attitude by quoting the prophet Isaiah: “These people honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me…” In other words, Jesus warns the Pharisees to concern themselves with God’s rules rather than the rules of humans. He says that spiritual defilement starts on the inside; it arises from the heart. The word “heart” is a metaphor for the total person, one’s whole being. For those who are ritual specialists the focus is on the external; neglecting a dynamic, creative, life-sustaining relationship with the living God. The more they focus on outward actions, the less attention they give to inner attitudes… they focus on the rules but neglect a relationship with the living God.

Now rules and traditions are not bad in themselves and no one respects rules and traditions more than me! Traditions are fine, well, and good when they arise from a deep faith and point us and others to God – Our Lord does not advocate dropping traditions, per se. However when we allow traditions to prevent us from following God’s will they become idolatrous. When Jesus challenges the Pharisees to follow the spirit of the law, rather than the letter of the law.
A few years ago I was asked by a parishioner at my former parish in Hollywood, who was a member of the Board of Governors of HRC to be a guest on a panel at the University of Redlands speaking in favor of same sex marriage legislation. I began my remarks by clearly stating that I viewed this as a civil rights issue and I did not intend to address the matter from a theological or scriptural perspective within the scope of that forum. Nevertheless, at the close of the evening’s agenda, before I could even dismount the stage, up from the rear of the room came a group of students tightly gripping their Bibles and I knew they were headed right for me!

Sure enough they were Campus Crusade for Christ and I was in their sights as an apostate evil Christian Priest and they had Scripture quotations to defend their stance. But in their brain-washed arguments they did not anticipate that I could counter them with just as many examples and I rebutted them with questions like our Lord often did with the Pharisees until they could not answer.It was a valuable experience for me to make that trek to the inland empire only a couple of hours’ drive from the West Side of LA and see first-hand a mind-set so foreign to what I experienced in my part of town.I realized that I probably did not convince those campus crusaders, although I pray that just maybe I caused at least one of them to recognize that there is another law than the one they had been spoon-fed – a law of equality and love and decency. But I also sadly realized once again that there is a whole lot of anger and hate guised in the name of our compassionate and loving Savior.

Christian devotion is meant to help gain and maintain a new heart, a heart that is alive not dead, a heart that is compassionate not selfish, a heart that is large not small, a heart that is hospitable not judgmental. Christian devotion in all its forms is all about softening the heart, preventing it from becoming hard, keeping it tender. Other controversies than dietary laws today divide Christians and our own Anglican Communion. Each area of contention represents deeply held convictions about how we are to live and when they are challenged we get scared. And it is fear ultimately that fuels a phariseeism of the heart. Pure religion has to do with caring for others in distress, not stressing over pure religious practices. In our Epistle for today St. James admonishes us to be quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to anger.

The trouble for the Pharisees was that their scrupulosity about observing the law led them to depend, not upon God’s graciousness, but upon their own ability to channel their lives into certain predictable routines setting themselves apart as better than other people. Now if we’re honest we can admit that no matter how hard we try, we can’t always get it perfectly right every time. In despair we may seek consolation by comparing ourselves to others and end up with a dull and formal religion in which we become like Anthony Trollope’s Miss Thorne, whose “virtues were too numerous to describe, and not sufficiently interesting to deserve description.”

So what then makes a person good enough for God? What makes us good enough for God is the sacrificial love of Jesus Christ. It is His broken body and shed blood: that bread and that cup we share today that brings us closer to God. And the traditions of humans, even those of good intention, insofar as they become the basis for judging others, are of no account. As much as we honor our scriptures and traditions, they do not serve us well when we make them the basis of judging who it is God loves and who is acceptable to Him. In today’s Gospel lesson and throughout His ministry, Jesus denounces hypocrisy of the self-righteous and clearly reminds us that the outward forms of holiness are meaningless if we do not have the basics in our hearts: the basics that call us to do justice, love mercy, and to walk humbly with our God.

Amen.

Greetings from your Discernment Committee Chair!

Your Church of the Messiah Rector Discernment Committee has been busy at work this summer. On July 7, the Committee met for an all day meeting at Kitty Crary’s lovely home. To prepare for the meeting, the members of the Committee spent several weeks reviewing the candidates’ resumes and responses to written questions posed to them by our Committee. We received a variety of materials from the candidates, including sermons and on-line materials, all totaling hundreds of pages. We also reviewed materials on the candidates which we had found on the internet, such as writings and videotaped sermons. At the July 7 meeting, we discussed, in detail, each of the candidates who applied for the Messiah rector position, and made decisions as to which candidates will be interviewed, which is the next step in the process. After a full and thoughtful discussion, the committee reached a consensus on which candidates would be interviewed. The discussion was lively and honest, but respectful of every opinion. Special thanks to Kitty for hosting, to Janet Hryniewicki for her dedicated note-taking of the discussions, to Leonora Will for her spiritual direction during the meeting, and to Biff Baker and Lamar Hill for their exhaustive internet research on the candidates.

The interviews will be held over the next several weeks. Then, the Committee will meet again to decide which candidates will be visited in their parishes. Members of the Committee will go in groups to visit the candidate’s parish and attend a service. After these visits, the Committee will meet to decide which names will be presented to the vestry. Our Committee is completely aware of the amazing responsibility with which we have been entrusted. Please continue to keep the Committee, as well as the candidates, in your prayers as we search of the next rector of this great church.

August 19, 2012 - Father Mark D. Stuart

As children growing up, my sister and I were carefully taught proper manners from our mother. Since we were “PK’s” (“preacher’s kids”) we were expected to act politely and properly at all times, but especially when our family was a guest in parishioners’ homes. One of the important rules I remember was, “When served food, you should never ask, ‘What is that?’” Mother’s admonition has stayed with me lo these many years and I have attempted to resist asking that question at many a church potluck.

In the 6th chapter of St. John’s Gospel Jesus alludes to the Israelites in the wilderness after their Exodus from bondage in Egypt. As they proceed on their journey, the people despair over the wilderness and long for the plenty of their former life in Egypt, albeit one of slavery. They search three days for drinkable water, only to find a bitter spring. They travel further and still cannot find food.
They are beginning to despair that God’s promise of a wonderful new land will never come to fruition. Eventually the Lord provides them with an unidentified strange substance they find stuck to the ground in the morning. Predictably, they break the politeness rule my mother taught and ask, “What is it?”

As we were informed by our guest preacher last week, the substance called manna can be translated as “What is it?” Manna was sufficient for the people’s nourishment but it was not, however, sufficient food for eternal life. It was food, period. Jesus contrasts manna with another kind of food, the bread of life. It is human nature to know what food we’re being served, so may well want to ask the question of Jesus: What is this “bread of life” that “came down from heaven”?

We correctly interpret these words eucharistically, but can also think about the broader meanings. The word bread can also stand for sustenance; in the Lord’s Prayer, our daily bread generally means “what we need for life.” Flesh and Blood can also mean a vital, biological, actual life. So, Jesus’ bread of life is his own life, his own vitality. He gives us his life freely and with it access to God, forgiveness of our sins, and eternal life. We as Christians share our life with Christ more deeply than we share it with anyone else.

What does it mean to “live”? We may think on a physical level at least, that is a relatively straight forward question to answer. However, the definitions have become more problematic, rather than clearer with scientific and medical advances.
Death used to be defined as when one’s heart stopped or breathing ceased, but we know now it is a longer gradual process. We are all-too familiar with the wrangling political debates about when life begins, as well. Equally problematic is whether people with advanced Alzheimer’s disease, persons in deep comas, and those who cannot exist without life support machines are really living.

But, of course, that is only the physical side of living. What about lives filled with so much hurt, unsolved dilemmas, heartaches, disappointments, addictions, troubles, anxieties, and terrors? What does it really mean to “live” and to “have life”? We are here today because this fellow Jesus said, “I have come that you might have life, and have it abundantly.” Yet still we sometimes struggle with being truly satisfied by Jesus’ life-giving bread and we confuse being satisfied with the “comfort food” of manna. But Christ’s bread is our constant benefactor giving us a deep sustenance and hope in difficult situations.

Have you ever experienced a particular challenge that may bring despair only to find a solution you had never thought would come, or find that lovely wonderful people come into your life at such a time, or discover a sense of peace you never thought you could ever experience? I certainly have in some dark times in my own life – that is God’s grace. I open myself to that grace when I continually make Christ present in my life, by being open spiritually even when I am not sure where He might lead me and importantly receiving Him physically in the Sacrament of Holy Communion. Perhaps the reason the Israelites in the early stage of their journey had difficulty in trusting God, despite the impressive miracles the Lord had provided them; was that the people had not lived into a long term relationship with God that makes for deeper trust.

Jesus could well have said, “You are what you eat.” He was saying in essence that if you don’t take into yourselves that which is Christ, you will have no real life and you will become malnourished and die spiritually. In our practice of Christianity we place great value on receiving Holy Communion, in fact that is the central purpose of our gathering faith community every week around the Lord’s Table. We cherish this outward and visible sign of a profound inward spiritual truth. Through the common substances of bread and wine and the everyday experience of eating together, and through the power of God and our commitment and faith, we can become what we eat. The living bread that sustains us should always be our quest: Jesus, whose life and deeds show us the way; Jesus whose flesh and blood instill new life within us; Jesus who lives in us that we might live forever.

We are reminded of that so well in our opening collect for this Sunday, “Give us grace to receive thankfully the fruits of his redeeming work and to follow in the blessed steps of his most holy life.”

Amen.

Hot Coffee / Cool Jazz - August 11, 7pm

Date:   August 11th Saturday
Time:   7-9pm
Place:  Episcopal Church of the Messiah
            614 N Bush Street, Santa Ana
Cost:    FREE

The 10th Street Jazz Quartet will be performing two sets of classic straight ahead jazz in the patio of the Episcopal Church.  This outdoor event includes free coffee, soft drink, snacks and desserts, and is a nice way to spend a relaxing evening with friends.

Also, tour the Messiah's historical chapel which is one of the last surviving examples of Country Gothic architecture.

OPEN to the public.....

July 29, 2012 - Father Mark D. Stuart

Through these times in which we live it seems the pace of life escalates. Multiple responsibilities and conflicting schedules frazzle many of us much of the time. An economy in recession effects each and every one of us daily. Stress, stress, stress; contemporary life runs thick with stress. Imagine, then, the stress Jesus’ disciples endured as they rode out the nighttime storm on the sea?!

Although we know today of all the geographical and meteorological particularities of the Sea of Galilee, people of Jesus’ day lacked scientific understanding to explain the rather nasty storms and squalls still common there today. They explained their cosmos through a myriad of spirits, some benevolent, some malevolent and they believed that bodies of water were especially prone to evil forces. No wonder the disciples were beside themselves in their 26-foot boat on the tossing dark sea with their beloved Master left on the shore! It is a story about us, as well!

In oh so many ways, we are like a boat at night in a storm- tossed sea, both in our personal lives and in the life of the Church today. Nighttime is the occasion when fear steals into our homes and finds us most vulnerable. Some small concern, scarcely noticed in the daylight hours, takes on monstrous proportions in that still, quiet time before dawn… A letter too long neglected; grief over a lost loved one; a telephone call left unanswered; a careless word or action that may have hurt a loved one or friend, or perhaps by them may have hurt us.

Fear and anxiety do not confine themselves to that hour of the night, of course. In fact, they control much of what we do. Fear about financial security motivates career choices for many, or constricts our relations to the needs of others. Fear for our relationships moves some of us to cling and others to flee. Fear that our efforts will amount to nothing produces an obsession that robs vocation of its pleasure. Fear that our material security is not as secure as we would like restricts the joy of generosity.

St. John’s story of Jesus walking on the water is, first and foremost, a story about Jesus and His recognized identity. Yet in the process we are also told a story about human fear. Fear characterizes the atmosphere of the whole story. The disciples are separated from Jesus and their boat is seriously threatened by a storm. Knowing the sea’s treachery, we fear for them. Despite Jesus’ acts of healing, and the feeding of the 5,000 in the preceding scene, the disciples can only assume that the figure who walks toward them is a ghost and they react with terror.

St. Matthew’s version of this event adds another scene to the story. The ever-precocious Peter cries out to Jesus to prove that it is He by commanding him to come to Him on the water. He becomes frightened and sure enough down he goes, crying “save me!” Peter took his eyes off Jesus and his faith off Him as well and he began to sink. Thus it is with us so often. Rather than focusing on the eyes of Jesus, on the face of Jesus, on the presence of Jesus; we focus instead on the storm which is raging in our lives and we start to sink. In the middle of the nastiest storms of life (and the storms of life can be so very nasty); it is essential to keep our focus on Jesus Christ and the strength and power of God, rather than on the turbulent tempest. At the core is Jesus’ statement: “Take heart, it is I, have no fear.”

We are perpetually afraid of the next chapter in our lives. We fear the dark storms of life: the report from the doctor, a relocation from our home we have known for years, the loss of a job, the break-up of a relationship, and death – death of one we hold so dear and of ourselves. The list of our storms in life goes on and on and into those storms miraculously walks Jesus to take our hand as we feel ourselves losing faith and sinking…”Take heart, it is I, have no fear.”

Yet we still are anxious in the dark. Fear happens. People we love die. Storms beset us. As we feel ourselves sinking like Peter reaching out for the saving hand of Jesus, He grasps us oh so tightly while scolding us like Peter, “Oh you of little faith!” Will Peter fear again? We know the answer to that. But as surely as he fears, he knows whose name to call and whose hand will catch him.

Through over three decades of ordained ministry my experience with congregations, church agency boards, and vestries has brought me to the observation that many tend to operate out of scarcity rather than abundance, plagued by fear and doubt. We don’t do that here at Messiah Parish as we set goals of ministry in this place and anticipate an exciting new era with calling a new rector rather than scramble to close a gap in a budget.

Time and time again, when we step out with the conviction of faith, Jesus reaches out His hand and a miracle occurs. When we live with an attitude of scarcity, fear threatens to turn us in on ourselves. Yet God provides resources, reminds us to focus on the presence of His Son, and declares that we are not left adrift in the storm if we but have faith. The variety of faith granted human beings does not banish fear. No amount of moralizing or pleading will make it so. Faith does, however, teach us whose name to call and who waits to calm us, for faith knows who is powerful over the deep of our fears as over the deep of the waters.

Amen.