Sermon by Jim Lee - February 24, 2013

There is this moment toward the end of Glory, the 1989 film that depicted the Massachusetts 54th Regiment, an all-black unit during the Civil War, that has stayed with me. As the soldiers of the 54th prepare to assault a Confederate fort in South Carolina, its leader, Colonel Robert Gould Shaw, played by Matthew Broderick, takes a moment to look out on the Atlantic Ocean. He watches seagulls skim the surface of the water, and you can see fear, terror in his eyes, as he pauses, knowing that when he turns to face the fort he and his soldiers will very likely die in the battle just about to take place. There is this moment in Shaw’s eyes in which you know that he so doesn’t want to move, doesn’t want to see this part of the journey unfold, can’t it be someone else to take on this difficult, terrifying task? Yet this moment of fear gives way to resolve: Shaw turns to the fort and rejoins his men, and together they head into battle and into history. I’ve often wondered what passed through Shaw’s heart and mind in that moment, this incredibly human pause, on the brink of something life-changing, something of the magnitude of life and death. How did he muster courage in that moment? What kind of spiritual resources did he have to find a way past that pause? And when that moment comes for me, for us, do you and I have the courage, the faith, to do as Shaw does, to face the most difficult challenges, even as these challenges may be that which gives our lives true meaning?

In this morning’s Gospel reading, Jesus also pauses for a moment. The Pharisees meet Jesus and warn him that Herod is out to kill him. Their warning is a well-meaning caution to this person with whom they have been tussling, that the local ruler of the Galilee region, the man who killed another prophet, John, Jesus’ cousin, now has his sights on Jesus. I wonder what was on Jesus’ heart and mind when he was presented with this warning. Where do his eyes linger on as he ponders this news, about being a targeted man, this very real possibility that his life is in danger? Do his eyes reveal, even for a flash, the fear and terror that must come when faced with something so imminent and dangerous? Perhaps in that brief moment there is for Jesus the fantasy that he need not journey toward Jerusalem, the place that kills prophets, that maybe someone else can do the job, maybe he can turn away and live life just squabbling with the Pharisees. Instead, what we see is Jesus responding to the warning by being true to himself, to his purpose: he instructs the Pharisees to tell Herod that his message, his ministry remains constant: he casts out demons, and heals the ill. Jesus continues to do the hard work of liberating people from oppression, callousness, and poverty and toward well-being, authenticity, and generosity, exactly what he preached on in his inaugural sermon in his hometown of Nazareth, right after his own wilderness experience in the desert: to proclaim good news to the poor, release for those imprisoned, recovery for those ill and disabled, freedom for the oppressed. He pauses, yes, but doesn’t turn away from his journey toward Jerusalem, a journey that began when he came out of the wilderness with the clarity and conviction that to the very end of his days he was beloved by God, and that therefore everyone was beloved by God. His ministry has been one of relentlessly speaking truth to power, of exposing the corruption and hypocrisy and hubris of the powerful, and for this those in power conspire against Jesus. But Jesus responds by asserting his purpose, and then imagines God nurturing the children of Jerusalem as a mother hen protects her chicks under her wings. I can’t help but wonder what spiritual resources Jesus had that allowed him, in the face of imminent danger, to respond with such generosity, sorrow, and hope, to imagine God drawing God’s children near.

Perhaps Jesus prayed a simple prayer from a song that he couldn’t have known and yet probably sang all the same: come by here. Kumbaya, my Lord, come by here. Today, when we think about this song, we think of Boy Scouts and guitars and campfires. Or wishy-washy hippies. Or as a recent New York Times article puts it, Kumbaya moments are seen as an expression of false unity, false hope, false optimism in the face of danger, whether political danger or otherwise. And yet Kumbaya, come by here, is nothing less than a powerful yearning for God’s presence in the midst of our darkest moments, when we are called to be true to ourselves because our lives depend on it.

Civil rights icon Vincent Harding recently talked about the true meaning of Kumbaya. In 1964, college-aged volunteers from around the country gathered in Oxford, Ohio to begin a two-week orientation, at the end of which would result in their traveling to Mississippi to live with black family hosts, organize and register them to vote, teach in alternative summer schools, and above all work with the local community to fight against segregation and poverty, to empower ordinary African Americans to imagine a future of justice and dignity. A week into this orientation for what would become known as Freedom Summer, three principal organizers—James Chaney, Andrew Goodman, and Michael Schwerner—traveled as part of an advance team to Mississippi, only to go missing and eventually found dead: murdered by members of the KKK. Word got back to the volunteers and organizers in Ohio that the three men were missing. The director of Freedom Summer, Bob Moses, told the 1000 mostly white volunteers that the three men were in all likelihood dead, and that no one would think less of them for withdrawing from the project, that he was grateful that they had come that far already. The entire room fell silent.

Harding recounts, “[Bob Moses] said let’s take a couple of hours just for people to spend time talking on the phone with parents or whoever to try to make this decision and make it now. What I found as I moved around among the small groups that began to gather together to help each other was that, in group after group, people were singing ‘Kum Bah Ya, come by here, my Lord, somebody's missing, Lord, come by here. We all need you, Lord, come by here.’”

Harding concludes, “I could never laugh at Kum Bah Ya moments after that, because I saw then that almost no one went home from there. They were going to continue on the path that they had committed themselves to and a great part of the reason why they were able to do that was because of the strength and the power and the commitment that had been gained through that experience of just singing together ‘Kum Bah Ya.’”

Kumbaya. Come by here, Lord. Sisters and brothers, in a moment we will gather around this table—whoever you are, wherever you find yourself on life’s journey—where we experience deeply this hope for God to be with us, to dwell in us, in that crucial moment when we are on life’s edge. I am about to begin the first of many chemotherapy sessions. Come by here, Lord. My supervisor brings me into her office and says, I’m sorry but we’re going to have to let you go. Come by here, Lord. Two weeks ago, we buried our father, and oh how I miss him so. Come by here, Lord. One in five children will suffer from malnourishment and poverty tonight in the United States. Come by here. Two and a half million people are incarcerated in this land of freedom. Come by here. More than 2000 people have been killed by gun violence since Newton. Come by here, Lord. Come by here, because in our vulnerability and need we yearn to be true to you and to ourselves, to be and become all that you intended us to be. Give us the courage to come together, as you draw near to us, to face all that imperils us, your children and your world. Come by here, God, nourish us with your grace that we may step forward on our journeys to make your dream come true.

Sisters and brothers, this Lent, let us ask God to come by here, together. Let us find the faith and courage to sing together Kumbaya, so that we may move forward, together, to do the hard work of bringing God’s reign here on earth.

Upcoming Adult Education Class

February 17 to March 24:  9am in the Upper Room

What’s In the Way IS The Way written by Mary O’Malley will be the focus of our adult education class each Sunday of Lent. This book invites us to take a journey back into our hearts so that we can know the joy of being fully here for life. It shows us how to use the challenges of our lives as doorways into that peace and joy that passes understanding. Lorna Adkins, Beca Hendrickson, Jean Hollingshead, Jan and Len Hightower are among the facilitators of our times together.  The book is available at Amazon.

Your participation will enhance the experience. Please come.

Lenten Meditations

“God becomes manifest in the human act of reflection.”—C. G. Jung

These reflections are the works of many different individual members of Messiah, who read and thought and pondered scriptures assigned for a particular day of Lent and who here share their insights about God with us. Many thanks to all of you who opened your hearts and intellect to this challenge.

Please download a PDF copy of our Lenten Meditations, and feel free to share.

Lenten Events To Help You Grow In Christ


Wednesday Morning Eucharist and Discussion, 6:30 am, Eucharist from the New Zealand Prayerbook with homilies by parishioners, light breakfast and group discussion.

Tuesday Evening Contemplative Prayer, every Tuesday at 7 pm, in the Upper Room. Spiritual Director Karen Goran leads this exploration of varieties of Christian prayer.

Men Seeking God, a spirituality support group for men, meets at 6:30pm, third Tuesday of each month in members’ homes.

Women’s Bible Study, meets the second Friday morning of the month from 9:30am - 11:30am in the Upper Room.

Wednesday’s Women, 6:30 pm a women’s spirituality group, meets the first Wednesday of every month at Linda Barnhurst’s home.

Intercessory Prayer, meets in the Upper Room every Wednesday morning at 9:30am to pray with special intention for those in our own community and the world as a whole.

Sts. Aelred and Hildegard LGBT Ministry meets in the members’ homes the third Sunday of each month at 6 p.m. for Evening Prayer and a potluck dinner.

February 9 and 10: Book and Media Sale to Benefit Noah Project

Research shows that two skills are critical for success in school as well as in life: math and reading. The Noah Project, hosted at Church of the Messiah, helps middle school students to build these skills for greater success in school and in life. What’s more, the after-school tutoring provides, in the heart of Santa Ana, a safe place to learn, grow, and socialize.

The Noah Project is struggling to find the funding to continue, and is looking to the Messiah congregation for help. And now there’s an easy way to support this important outreach.

On February 9 and 10, Messiah will host a Book and Media Sale in our Parish Hall. You’ll be amazed at the treasures you will find!

February 3: Welcome, Father Abel Lopez!


It is with great joy that we look forward to welcome The Rev. Abel E. Lopez as our new spiritual leader and Rector of Church of the Messiah on February 3rd, 2013!

The Rev. Abel Ernesto Lopez is a life-long Episcopalian. Born and raised in Cuba, Abel graduated from the Episcopal Theological Seminary of the Southwest in Austin, Texas in 2000. He has served as a Senior Associate Priest at All Saints Church, Pasadena California for nearly 12 years of fruitful ministry. He is a member of the Council of Advisors for National Latino/Hispanic Ministries of the Episcopal Church, serves on the Board of Directors of Equality California and on the Board of Trustees of Bloy House at Claremont School of Theology.

Father Abel seeks to embrace God’s call in the world. As a life-long Episcopalian he has been involved throughout his life in helping the church grow and be more inclusive of all of God’s children. He has served the church in many capacities and leadership roles and his theological formation is rooted in the prophetic tradition of justice and peace and the belief that every human being is created in the image and likeness of God, who is love. According to Abel, “when we are grounded in the love of God we are capable of functioning at our highest capacity.”

He is married to May Ling Lopez. They have a 6 years old son named Sebastian. Abel’s daughter Jessica (18), who still lives in Cuba, is expected to arrive soon to live permanently with the family.





Es con gran alegría que esperamos darle la bienvenida al Reverendo Abel E. López como nuestro líder spiritual y Rector de la Iglesia del Mesías en Día 3 de Febrero del 2013!


El Reverendo Abel Ernesto López es un episcopal de por vida. Abel estudio teología en el Seminario Evangélico de Teología, Matanzas, Cuba y se graduó del seminario Teológico Episcopal del Sudoeste en Austin Texas en el año 2000. Abel ha servido como Sacerdote Asociado mayor en la Iglesia de Todos los Santos en Pasadena California por casi 12 años de ministerio fructífero. El es miembro del Consejo de Asesores Nacionales de Ministerios de la Iglesia Episcopal para latinos/hispanos. Es miembro del Consejo de Administración de Igualdad de California y es parte de la Junta de Síndicos de Bloy House en la Escuela de Teología de Claremont.

El Padre Abel espera aceptar el llamado de Dios en el mundo y se ha comprometido a impulsar el crecimiento y la vitalidad satisfaciendo las necesidades espirituales de cada miembro de la parroquia. Como Episcopal de toda la vida ha estado involucrado durante toda su vida en ayudar en el crecimiento de la iglesia y ser más incluyente de todos los hijos de Dios. El ha servido a la iglesia en muchas capacidades y roles de liderazgo y su formación Teológica tiene las raíces en la tradición profética de la justicia y de la paz y la creencia de que cada ser humano es creado a imagen y semejanza de Dios, que es amor. Según Abel, “Cuando nos basamos en el amor de Dios somos capaces de funcionar a nuestra máxima capacidad.”

El está casado con May Ling López. Ellos tienen un hijo de 6 años llamado Sebastián. La hija de Abel, Jessica (18), quien todavía vive en Cuba, se espera que llegue muy pronto a vivir permanentemente con la familia.