Proclaim by Word and Example

This sermon was preached on April 17, 2016 for the Fourth Sunday after Easter. The texts for this sermon were:  Acts 9:36-43 ,  Revelation 7:9-17 ,  John 10:22-30 , and  Psalm 23 . When it came to playing games with his children, my dad’s philosophy was always to play the exact same way against us as he would against adult opponents, regardless of our age or the game. He’d patiently answer any questions we asked about rules or strategies, but he’d stop short of leveling the playing field or changing his own strategy in any way. The immediate consequences of this philosophy, of course, was that my sisters and I lost a lot. And like most kids, I hated losing. But in the end, I’m grateful for the long-term consequences of this parenting strategy. My father used playing cards, Scrabble tiles, and little plastic cannons to teach us two vital life lessons. First, how to lose gracefully, over and over, and still keep playing. And second, that winning is never the most im...

This sermon was preached on March 20, 2016 for Palm/Passion Sunday at Grace Episcopal Church in Medford, MA. The texts for this sermon were:  Isaiah 50:4-9a ,  Philippians 2:5-11 ,  Luke 22:14-23:56 , and  Psalm 31:9-16 . In the midst of all this horrific torture and sadness, we hear Jesus's words to the weeping women, the criminals beside him, and to God his Father. However, Luke only writes down three words that Jesus has to say directly to his accusers and torturers. "Then Pilate asked him, “Are you the king of the Jews?” Jesus answered, “You say so.”" When I was a kid, there was this saying that adults would tell us to say in response to bullying. “I’m rubber, you’re glue,” they’d instruct us to chant. “Whatever you say bounces off of me and sticks to you!” The intent, of course, was to demonstrate that another person’s cruel comments reveal more about the bully’s character than they do about their victim’s. Granted, every time I’ve ever seen a kid try it, it’s ...

This sermon was preached on February 14, 2016 for the First Sunday in Lent. The texts for this sermon were:  Deuteronomy 26:1-11 ,  Romans 10:8b-13 ,  Luke 4:1-13 , and  Psalm 91:1-2, 9-16 . “I haven’t been to church in a long time,” two men admitted to me sheepishly on Wednesday. One of them, an older gentleman on his way to drop off his dry cleaning, said it had been thirty years. The other, slouched in his nursing home chair, looked above his head and joked about the ceiling tiles falling in on him. “That’s okay,” I said, and I reached up and reached down to smudge dark ash across two grateful foreheads. “This was meant to be,” said the man with his dry cleaning. “Amen,” said the other. For two hours this past Wednesday I stood on the sidewalk with Cindy, offering ashes to stranger after stranger. We were struck by a startling observation. It was often the most reluctant folks, the ones most determined not to make eye contact or the ones most asleep on two feet,...

This sermon was preached on January 3, 2016 at Grace Episcopal Church. The texts for this sermon were:  Jeremiah 31:7-14 ,  Ephesians 1:3-6,15-19a ,  Luke 2:41-52 , and  Psalm 84 . Headed home for Christmas this year, I found myself caught in that weird life overlap a lot of young adults find themselves in. It’s that strange little gap between the ending of the family I’ve always known, the one that’s just me, my two sisters, and my parents, and the beginning of families yet to be created, the ones we will each build for ourselves. It’s a space filled with excitement and nostalgia, and the bittersweet realization that the meaning of the word “home” has shifted forever. It’s also why one line from the new Star Wars movie ("The Force Awakens," 2015) stood out to me. A long, long time ago, in a galaxy, far, far away, we meet another young adult who has spent her life waiting for the return of her family. Without spoiling anything for those who haven’t seen it, all I’ll...

This sermon was preached on November 29, 2015 for the First Sunday of Advent at Grace Episcopal Church in Medford, MA. The readings for this sermon were:  Jeremiah 33:14-16 ,  1 Thessalonians 3:9-13 ,  Luke 21:25-36 , and  Psalm 25:1-9 . So here we are again, staring December in the face. Some of us, of course, would prefer to skip over the stress of preparing for the holidays--the shopping for gifts and food, the flight delays, the endless renditions of "All I want for Christmas"—and wake up right on Christmas morning. I know others of us who wouldn't mind fast-forwarding right on through December to the end of the year. Though, honestly, there seems to be more and more fast-forwarding every year. I can't be the only one who heard "Last Christmas I gave you my heart…" on the radio a full week before Thanksgiving. But then here's Advent. In a culture of skipping straight from candy corn to candy canes, here's Advent. In the Episcopal tradition, ...

This sermon was preached on November 8, 2015 at Grace Episcopal Church in Medford, MA. The texts for this sermon were:  Ruth 3:1-5; 4:13-17 ,  Psalm 127 ,  Hebrews 9:24-28 , and  Mark 12:38-44 . When I was a freshman in college and trying to figure out how to fit in, I started volunteering for the local Habitat for Humanity chapter. I liked that the volunteer builds were very much “come when you can.” Whenever I had a Saturday morning free that I wanted to spend doing something productive I’d show up and the leader would drive us over to the site. I’d really only been on a few builds when the graduating leader in charge of the club approached me about taking it over. Now I need to say here that this wasn’t because I was super qualified or even a dedicated member. It turns out that I happened to be the student who had shown up to the most builds that fall. Of course as a freshman I was flattered enough to yes, without quite realizing what it would mean. What it ...

This sermon was preached on October 25, 2015 at Grace Episcopal Church in Medford, MA. The texts for this sermon were:  Job 42:1-6, 10-17 ,  Psalm 34:1-8, (19-22) ,  Hebrews 7:23-28 , and  Mark 10:46-52 . A couple of months ago I attended a training in Roxbury and in the first small group session, we were invited to identify a situation in the world breaks our hearts. People mentioned racism, education inequality, loneliness. We were then prompted recall the name of someone we knew who was deeply affected by this issue and to write it on a small candle before us. As we shared our stories around the circle and lit the candles one by one, I found my grief sharpen and refocus. My sorrow was no longer about giant, fearsome, anonymous problems to be analyzed and solved, but people’s very real lives. In that moment, surrounded by flickering candles and unspoken prayers, my overwhelming despair crystallized into a new sense of urgency, an urgency of determined hope. In man...