Proclaim by Word and Example

This sermon was preached at the Monday Eucharist service on January 30, 2017 by first-year Mia Benjamin. The texts for this sermon are: Hebrews 11:32–40 , Psalm 31:19–24 , and Mark 5:1–20 . “But Jesus refused, and said to him, ‘Go home to your friends, and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and what mercy he has shown you.’” I was going to preach a very different sermon today. Right up until last Friday, that is. That’s when I learned that President Trump signed an Executive Order suspending the entry of refugees and immigrants into the United States. His order affects the citizens of seven Muslim-majority countries, and it’s still unclear whether that applies green-card and visa holders, although it’s still affecting them. Perhaps you, like me, have spent this past weekend praying for friends abroad who are now suddenly unable to return home. American doctors, professors, students, and business-owners facing exile from the homeland they have served and built and taught ...

This sermon was preached on June 12, 2016 at Grace Episcopal Church in Medford, MA. The texts for this sermon were:  1 Kings 21:1-10, (11-14), 15-21a ,  Psalm 5:1-8 ,  Galatians 2:15-21 , and  Luke 7:36-8:3 . A couple weeks ago, Ruth Roper, our Minister of Music, asked me if I had any requests for hymns for my last service with Grace as your intern. I was deeply touched to be asked. I also knew immediately what hymn I wanted to sing with you all one last time. And while there's many lines in Hymn #686 that have particular meaning to me, it's verse three that always catches in my throat. "O to grace," we'll sing together in a few moments. "O to Grace how great a debtor daily I'm constrained to be!" And I am. I am indebted to this church, to Grace with a capital G, more than I could ever say. I am indebted to its priests, Noah and Maggie, to its elderly members, to its children, its young adults, and its parents, to the altar guild, the vestry, t...

This sermon was preached on May 22, 2016 for Trinity Sunday at Grace Episcopal Church in Medford, MA. The texts for this sermon were:  Isaiah 6:1-8 ,  Revelation 4:1-11 ,  John 16:(5-11)12-15 , and  Psalm 29 . Jesus said to the disciples, "I still have many things to say to you.” A big, red and black banner hung on the side of the United Church of Christ church in downtown Fairfield, CT when I was growing up. I’m not sure if it’s still there but the message remains burned into my brain. “God is still speaking,” declared the banner, and, underneath a giant comma at the end of the quote, “Never place a period where God has placed a comma.” A bold, brash theological statement about the relevancy of God in our lives right now…and the UCC’s 2006 denomination-wide marketing campaign. Today's passage from the Gospel of John plunges us back into Jesus's lengthy farewell address to his followers on the night of his betrayal. Jesus knows he is about to leave his friends to fa...

Dear Grace Church, The following is only a tiny piece of the many lessons you all have been kind and patient enough to teach me through your words and actions. I am deeply indebted to all the generous teachers I have encountered at Grace Church—from the youngest toddler to the oldest member. On Wednesday, I was humbled to get a chance to reflect back to all of you the most important and possibly the most broadly useful of the many, many lessons I've learned about church leadership during my two years here. In addition to my leadership, Grace Church has also nurtured my spiritual growth, my sense of God's call, and my relationship with God through Jesus Christ. So I've also included seven things I learned about the Gospel while at Grace, and the questions they've led me to ask myself each day. Top Ten Lessons I Learned About Church Leadership Grace:  Be God's grace to everyone. Especially when they've let me down. Hospitality:  Always make a full pot of...

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,...