Sunday's sermon

 

ADVENT 4

          Here we are—two days from the darkest night of the year and six days from the angels’ light and song.

          And in Today’s gospel, the virgin Mary, with Jesus in her womb, visits her cousin, Elizabeth, who was carrying John the Baptist in her womb.

          When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, John leaped in her womb.

          Two pregnant women carrying children who would die violently—John from be-heading and Jesus from crucifixion.

          Yet their meeting was one of the most glorious encounters in the Gospels.

          Elizabeth was filled with the Holy Spirit and told Mary, “Blessed are you among women and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me?”

          And Mary replies with some of the most beautiful and poignant words of scripture. Listen again to what Mary says: “My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant. Surely, from now on all generations will called me blessed; for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name. His mercy if for those who fear him from generation to generation. He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly: he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty.”

          What Mary is saying that God is turning things inside-out and upside-down.

          The proud will be put in their place.

          The powerful will be brought down and the lowly lifted up. Just as Mary was—a lowly servant to be mother of our Lord.

          The hungry will be filled with good things and the rich sent away empty.

          Upside-down and inside-out.

          And as his people, we must do as God would do. We are his hands and minds and eyes in this world.

          We must lift up the lowly. We must feed the hungry. We must put the proud in their place and bring down the high and mighty.

          You here at Trinity are doing those things.

          The gifts in the back of the church are proof of that. The wreath on our front porch in Cheshire is proof of that. Your work in the community is proof of that.

          But we must never stop. Not ever.

          The longest night is coming. We must work for the rights of women and minorities. We must welcome the strangers to our shores. We must defend the right to vote and equal treatment under the law however we can.

          “Inside-out and upside-down” is our mission, our calling by God, the reason for our lives. Lean into the Light….

          Amen and Amen.

What a surprise!

 When I was at Trinity, Milton on Wednesday, the wardens and I looked ahead to 2022 to see if there were any Sundays I wanted to take off.

I only do three Sundays a month in my contract with them.

What surprised and delighted me is when we got to April and I realized by birthday this year is Easter Sunday.

I'll go on-line to figure out if that ever happened before.

If it did, I don't remember it.

Christ is Risen and I was Born!

What a wonderful thing to happen.

(I looked it up. The only time my birthday was on Easter was when I was 2 years old. No wonder I don't remember!)

 

T. is hurt

T. is our 12 year old granddaughter.

She's tore her ACL, not in sports.

She's in the hospital and will have an operation next Wednesday.

Her family was going to California to see uncles, aunt and cousins for Christmas. Now they're staying in Baltimore.

They need to buy a tree.

Poor T., I feel so bad for her.

And her family.

But I'm secretly glad they're not--the 5 of them--flying across country and the new Covid variant is raging.

Bless T. She is in my prayers.

 

Tree's almost trimmed

 Bern bought a great Christmas tree this year!

She got it last Tuesday and put the lights on on Friday.

Since then, we've been putting on ornaments a few at a time--that's the way we do it.

It's almost done.

We used to have two trees so we have ever so many ornaments we don't need.

But it is a work of patience and love.

It'll be done in a day or two.

Merry Christmas, in advance.

Let me be clear

Let me be clear--I hate abortion. I hate knowing a life was snuffed out before it was born.

However (and this 'however' cancels out what I just said) as a straight, white man, I have no right to tell women that they are not in charge of their bodies.

The wave of laws across the country and the latest supreme court ruling that the Texas anti-abortion law can stand, endanger the very meaning of democracy and individual rights.

Well-to-do women can always find an abortion clinic--even it half-way across the nation.

It is poor women, teens, victims of rape or incest, women of color that will be harmed greatly by this anti-abortion movement.

If I could eliminate rape and incest and provide every woman in the country with access to birth control, I would.

But I can't.

And if Roe vs. Wade goes to the wayside, it is precisely the right women we need to protect most that will suffer.

Do whatever you can to protect abortion rights--write your representatives in congress, rally, speak out to protect the right of women to be in charge of their own bodies.

Please....

 

Two experiences today

This morning, I went to the funeral of a friend for almost 30 years.

She and her husband stood by me in one of the hardest, most painful moments of my life. 

She planned everything about the service--including inclusive language in the prayers and readings--and great music from a piano, saxophone, choir and soloist.

Two women priests--a couple I've know since I've been in CT--gave the sermon brilliantly.

Her husband, also a priest though when I first met him he was a law professor, made moving comments and read a poem I'll include below.

After the sermon, I left, full of both grief for her and joy for her life. By that time the service had lasted an hour and ten minutes, with communion still to come.

Then, this afternoon, I was on a zoom call with 6 of my favorite people--who I met through the Mastery Foundation and my leading of the Making a Difference workshop.

Though their was a purpose to the call, it was full of fellowship and joy. There was a 'connection question' to pull us together. It was "what is your relationship to the unknown and to miracle."

I shared about my feelings from the funeral--facing the miracle of life and the unknown of death.

A day of high emotion for me.

                    WHEN DEATH COMES                                                                                     by Mary Oliver

When death comes                                                                                like a hungry bear in autumn;                                                                when death comes and takes all he bright coins from his purse            to buy me and snaps the purse shut;                                                      when death comes                                                                                  like the measle-pox

when death comes                                                                                  like an iceberg between the shoulder blades,

I want to step through the door full of curiosity, wondering                  what is it going to be like, that cottage of darkness? 

And therefore I look upon everything                                                    as a brotherhood and a sisterhood,                                                        and I look upon time as no more than an idea,                                      and I consider eternity as another possibility,                                        and I think of each life as a flower, as common                                    as a field daisy, and as singular,

and each name a comfortable music in the mouth,                                tending, as all music does, toward silence,

 and each body as a lion of courage and something                              precious to the earth.

When it's over, I want to say all my life                                                I was a bride married to amazement.                                                    I was the bridegroom, taking the world into my arms.

When it's over, I don't want to wonder                                                  if I have made of my life particular, and real.

I don't want to find myself sighing and frightened,                              or full of argument.

I don't want to end up simply having visited this world.

 

Rest In Peace, Jill.

Ponder all that, my friends....

 

A poem for Bern from 2008

                  Almost two hours

I didn't think of you for almost two hours tonight.

I watch House on TV,

Cleaned the kitchen,

Made chicken salad with pickles for my lunch tomorrow.

I listened to the Yankees game on radio

And watched it rain from the kitchen porch.

And in all that time,

Almost two hours,

I didn't think of you once.

But, I wouldn't be writing this if

After than time

I hadn't thought of you.

Lovingly.

Lovingly.

Come home soon....