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Showing posts from November, 2024

Sunday, November 24, 2024 - Stay Curious

 One of the questions I’ve really loved asking people in my first couple of months here has been: what first brought you to this church? I’ve loved the diversity of answers I’ve received - it’s taught me a lot about you. One answer in particular intrigued me, because I heard it multiple times. People came back because they found St. Andrew’s to be a church filled with interesting and fascinating people. I really have come to believe that is true. Each one of you I’ve met with and gotten a chance to talk to even briefly - you all are fascinating! But I want to turn that statement on its head, too. I really believe that St. Andrew’s is a church that invites interest ED and fascinat ED people. People who ask questions and listen closely. People who wonder and want to learn more. And that’s absolutely essential to being a healthy, welcoming church. It’s less important to be fascinating people and more important to be a people continually fascinat ED - fascinated by God, by our faith ...

Sunday, November 17, 2024 - Outpouring of the Soul

This sermon was preached for Sunday, November 17, 2024. The texts for this sermon were: 1 Samuel 1:4-20,  1 Samuel 2:1-10,  Hebrews 10:11-14 (15-18) 19-25, and  Mark 13:1-8. I started learning to play viola in fourth grade and remained an absolutely mediocre player up through high school. My poor parents endured a lot trying to support our learning. I remember one particular elementary school orchestra concert, one of my first, one of those late evening concerts when they turned the lunch room into an auditorium and made all the parents sit in rows of folding chairs. At one point in one of our songs, I looked over at my dad’s face in the audience to see his eyes closed, his mouth turned down in a deep frown. I remember feeling awful in that moment, sure that my father was either terribly disappointed in my playing or totally bored to the point of nodding off. When I asked him about it later, my father, God bless his soul, explained that he was just concentrating on l...

Sunday, November 10, 2024 - Loving and tending

This sermon was preached for Sunday, November 10, 2024 at St. Andrew's, Ayer. The texts for this sermon were: Ruth 3:1-5; 4:13-17,  Psalm 127,  Hebrews 9:24-28 and  Mark 12:38-44. There are many reasons why you may have chosen to come to church today. Perhaps it is simply what you do each Sunday, or maybe you had a role to play in the service. Perhaps this is where you have found God before and this is where you most trust God to show up again.  Some of you have told me you needed to be here today because you are looking for a reason to hope. Others of you have told me you want to know you're not alone in your fear, anger, and sense of betrayal this week. I know others of you are here seeking solace in the midst of a grief that has nothing to do with big national events but everything to do with faith and hope and love. It is also quite possible that you don’t know why you are here or what you need. Or whether you and God are on speaking terms right now. There a...

Sunday, November 3, 2024 - No one dies alone

This sermon was preached for All Saints' Day, Sunday, November 3, 2024. The texts for this sermon were: Isaiah 25:6-9,  Psalm 24,  Revelation 21:1-6a,  and  John 11:32-44. My grandfather died five years ago this past Wednesday, on October 30. At the time, I remember being so grateful that it was a quote unquote “good death.” Stephen Honan was surrounded by all his children and his beloved wife in the end. I had anointed him and prayed those powerful prayers of release and peace, and Psalm 23, too. I took great comfort in how close his death was to All Hallows’ Eve, All Saints’ and All Souls’, too, holding on to the hope that in some mysterious way, his passing was made easier by the thinning of the barriers of this world and the next. In good Irish tradition, our family gathered around his body, cousins, uncles, aunts, and there was joy and life there, too. Two of the littlest great-grandkids had just begun to walk - a sign that the great family my grandfather b...