Proclaim by Word and Example

This sermon was preached for the Feast of the Baptism of Our Lord, Sunday, January 12, 2025 for the baptism of Lillian Bee. The texts for this sermon were: Isaiah 43:1-7,  Acts 8:14-17,  Luke 3:15-17, 21-22, and  Psalm 29. Have you ever held yourself under water, completely submerged? I used to do it all the time as a kid in the pool. Go ahead and close your eyes right now. Remember or imagine how it feels to be totally immersed, your entire body surrounded by clear, clean water, floating freely. I remember imagining that was what it must have felt like in the womb as a little baby. Suspended, enveloped, surrounded by nothing but my mother’s love.  Baptism has its roots in the Jewish practice of mikvah, the ritual immersion that restores someone to a state of ritual purity. When a Jewish person does a mikvah, they completely submerge themselves in living water and say special prayers. Jeanne Suk Gersen, writing about her first mikvah as a convert to Judaism in t...

This sermon was preached for Feast of the Epiphany of Our Lord, Sunday, January 5, 2025 at St. Andrew's, Ayer. The texts for this sermon were: Isaiah 60:1-6,  Ephesians 3:1-12,  Matthew 2:1-12, and  Psalm 72:1-7,10-14. Believe it or not, a huge part of priest training is on nonviolent communication and conflict resolution, particularly re-learning how to apologize effectively. Mostly we focused on intent vs. impact. Basically, what’s most important is not your intention behind what you said and did, what’s most important is the impact it had on other people. In particular, the job of repairing and reconciliation is all about really hearing what others experienced, acknowledging the impact of your words and actions, and then doing your best to fix it. It’s really not about explaining what you meant to do or all the things you hoped would happen. I suspect we’ve all been on the receiving end of those apologies: I’m sorry I didn’t mean…I’m sorry you feel that way…it was...

  This sermon was preached for the Feast of the Nativity, Christmas Eve, December 24, 2024. The texts for this sermon were the Christmas Lessons and Carols.  I sent two recordings of my daughter singing herself to sleep to her godmothers a couple weeks ago. If you listen closely to the first, you can hear that she’s singing her very own two year old version of the Jewish sabbath blessing for the bread and in the second, O Gracious Light, the Episcopal hymn we’ve been singing as we light our Advent wreath each night. The godmothers were delighted. “Here’s the thing that I know for sure,” one said in response. “...There are things we can only learn about God from children. There are things we can only learn about God from a little tiny voice singing blessings to fall asleep.” The Christmas pageant we did here earlier today was another one of those times that drives home for me, that there are things we can only learn about God from children. Things that children just know about ...

  This sermon was preached for the fourth Sunday in Advent, December 22, 2024. The texts for this sermon were  Micah 5:2-5a,  Hebrews 10:5-10,  Luke 1:39-45, (46-55), and  Canticle 15 (The Song of Mary). My late grandmother used to cut newspaper articles out to send to each of her grandchildren, along with a single teabag packet from her favorite brand. At first glance, the articles would seem entirely random but there’d always be something there in them that had reminded her of us, even in a tangential, off-kilter way. She wanted us to know she’d been thinking of us. My own millennial version of this, I realized recently, is texting gifs and memes to friends out of the blue. Hey, this made me laugh and think of you. My toddlers’ version, I suppose, is to bring me their newest lego creation. I made you a police car. It has sirens. Each of these gestures are tiny bids for connection. Heard, seen, and received, they’ll form the basis of strong relationships. The ...

This sermon was preached for the third Sunday in Advent, Sunday, December 15, 2024. The texts for this sermon were: Zephaniah 3:14-20,  Philippians 4:4-7,  Luke 3:7-18, and  Canticle 9. Back in 2022, as COVID was finally beginning to wind down and restrictions were lifting, I reached back out to the group of teen and youth ministers I had convened before the world shut down. We began to meet again, picking up the pieces ecumenical and interfaith collaboration we had had such hopes for in 2019. My colleague at the UCC church, who was much wiser and had many more decades of experience in youth ministry than I, had a powerful suggestion for how we might restart our efforts. What if our first event could be a collective moment of mourning what had been lost during the pandemic? It’d give teens a chance to name what they had had to give up in isolation and the particular traumas borne by high schoolers specifically - the education they missed out on, the rites of passages...

  This sermon was preached for the second Sunday of Advent, December 8, 2024. The texts for this sermon were: Malachi 3:1-4,  Philippians 1:3-11,  Luke 3:1-6, and  Canticle 16. As part of learning to be a group facilitator I had to internalize the norm “Step up, step back.” Which is really just a jargony way of saying everyone in the group commits to pay attention to how much time they’re taking up in any given conversation. It’s the responsibility of those who talk a lot to notice when they need to step back - and the responsibility of those who are shyer about contributing to step up more. That way we maintain balance and make sure all voices and perspectives are heard.  You may know me well enough by now to know which reminder I needed most often. But if you don’t, it was “step back.” I suspect that each of us, if we are really pushed to consider it, know which reminder we tend to need in group settings. What I like about the norm, though, is just that i...