ALCOHOL LEADS TO CLEAR THINKING ABOUT ALMOST NOTHING

This little video does a great job of explaining the effect of alcohol on one's thinking. You think you are thinking clearly, but there is nothing really coming through; you are actually perceiving less.



http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=vkpz7xFTWJo

Chucktown Squash

I am so proud of my son, Sam Candler, and his wife, Lynnie Minkowski Candler, as they serve students in some of the toughest Charleston areas. Here is a great article from the Charleston Post and Courier, about their work. And here is the link to Chucktown Squash. Go team!

Perigree Moon and Apogee Moon

Perigree Moon and Apogee Moon (obviously not this dramatic to the naked eye; it was still bright enough to wake me up last night.)

Astronomy Picture of the Day

Discover the cosmos! Each day a different image or photograph of our fascinating universe is featured, along with a brief explanation written by a professional astronomer.
2012 November 29
Super Moon vs. Micro Moon 
Image Credit & Copyright: Catalin Paduraru Explanation: Did you see the big, bright, beautiful Full Moon Wednesday night? That was actually a Micro Moon! On that night, the smallest Full Moon of 2012 reached its full phase only about 4 hours before apogee, the most distant point from Earth in the Moon's elliptical orbit. Of course, earlier this year on May 6, a Full Super Moon was near perigee, the closest point in its orbit. The relative apparent size of November 28's Micro Moon (right) is compared to the famous May 6 Super Moon in these two panels, matching telescopic images from Bucharest, Romania. The difference in apparent size represents a difference in distance of just under 50,000 kilometers between apogee and perigee, given the Moon's average distance of about 385,000 kilometers. How long do you have to wait to see another Full Micro Moon? Until January 16, 2014, when the lunar full phase will occur within about 3 hours of apogee.

Tomorrow's picture: cloudy sky

HANNAH AND THE HEADLINE NEWS

(my sermon for 18 November 2012 - Proper 28B)

1 Samuel 1:4-20

This week, newspaper headlines are moving away from the coverage of a general’s extramarital affair, and moving towards the escalation of violence in Israel-Palestine. Both the stories are sad, and even tragic.

“How the mighty have fallen!” I might say. How the mighty have fallen. Like a lot of our ordinary wisdom, and ordinary common sense, this phrase is actually from the Bible. No matter how devastating or surprising or tragic is the news from our own day and time, our stories do not top the wisdom of the stories of the Bible. No matter what the incident, the Bible has seen it before!

“How the mighty have fallen” (2 Samuel 1:19). It was King David who first uttered those words, the same King David to whom another David has been compared this past week. Generation after generation, we watch people who are high and lifted up, but who nevertheless succumb, almost inevitably, to some weakness. The Greeks called it hubris, an overbearing pride that can lead to tragedy. It is part of being human, and we all share that tendency, in some measure. All of us do -- men and women alike.

And nations do, too. In a very real way, the same sort of danger now threatens the very land and people if Israel-Palestine. The more powerful a country is, the more risk it has of being brought low – if not literally, then certainly spiritually.

All these headline news stories point me to two truths. The first is that, ultimately, each of us needs mercy. No matter who we are, we need mercy. The second truth is this: it is only God who can restore mercy, and purpose, to our lives.

Today, we have another story. Today’s story from the Bible is one that we have not heard about in a while, the story of Hannah, the mother of Samuel. Samuel has been described as priest and prophet and judge and seer – almost everything. But his story is for another day. It is the story of Hannah that inspires us today. Her story, too, has all the elements of headline news: resentment and envy, deep prayer and restoration (which some might call karma), and even a sense of justice and balance.

Her story, and her song, “The Song of Hannah” ring throughout both human history and divine history. It starts with emptiness and sorrow. She cannot bear children, even though her husband, Elkanah, loves her very much. Elkanah actually had another wife, which, of course, was common in early Hebrew history. Some have said that the only reason Elkanah took another wife was so that he could have children and continue his heritage. Even though he had another wife bearing him children, Elkanah loved Hannah deeply, and gave her a double portion of all that he sacrificed.

The other wife, Peninnah, did not like this. In fact, she was resentful and downright mean about it. The Bible calls her a rival, saying that Peninnah “provoked and irritated Hannah, because the Lord had closed her womb” (1Samuel 1:6). One can imagine the sort of taunting and wicked talk that resentment might entail. If anonymous e-mails had existed in that time, Peninnah would have used them! The word for “irritate,” used here, can also mean “thunder,” or “thunder against.” Peninnah thundered against the barren Hannah.

But Hannah did not give up. Though she wept bitterly and would not eat, Hannah did pray. In fact, here is a curious thing: She prayed so earnestly and deeply that she did not use words. Well, she did have words, but they did not cross her lips. In those days, silent prayer was a bit uncommon, just as silent reading was.

In our day and time, we tend to take “reading to ourselves” for granted, and most of us here today know how to read silently. But in the history of civilization, that is a newer phenomenon. For instance, at the time of Augustine in the fifth century AD, most people read by saying the words aloud. Reading silently was unknown.

Apparently, the practice of prayer was similar. One prayed by saying something aloud. To pray without making a sound was something different.  The priest, Eli, “observed [Hannah’s] mouth praying silently; only her lips moved, but her voice was not heard” (1Samuel 1:12-13). Therefore, the priest, Eli, thought she was drunk.

When Hannah replied that she was not drunk, but, instead, deeply troubled and vexed, then Eli somehow knew the deep sincerity of Hannah’s prayer. And Eli blessed Hannah: “Go in peace; the God of Israel grant the petition you have made to him” (1 Samuel 1:17).

I believe that the prayer of Hannah is remarkable for being a new kind of prayer in civilization, a prayer so sincere and deep that it was deeper than sound. It was silent and penetrating. God heard her prayer.

Hannah went back to her husband, and she ate and drank with her husband. (A great lesson: Never ignore the power of prayer and eating and drinking with your husband! Or your wife!) “In due time, Hannah conceived and more a son. She named him Samuel…” (1 Samuel 1:20).

It is a beautiful story. But the story continues after the text assigned to us today. Hannah gives up her son, Samuel, when he is three years old, to minister with Eli in Shiloh. She gives him up! (though she later has three sons and two daughters). And then she sings a song. Her song, the Song of Hannah, is what rings through human history and divine history. It is a song of how the humble overcome the powerful, and how the poor become rich. Listen to it:

      My heart exults in the LORD;

    my strength is exalted in my God.

    …3      Talk no more so very proudly,

    let not arrogance come from your mouth;

    for the LORD is a God of knowledge,

    and by him actions are weighed.

    4      The bows of the mighty are broken,

    but the feeble gird on strength.

    5      Those who were full have hired themselves out for bread,

    but those who were hungry are fat with spoil.

    The barren has borne seven,

    but she who has many children is forlorn.

    6      The LORD kills and brings to life;

    he brings down to Sheol and raises up.

    7      The LORD makes poor and makes rich;

    he brings low, he also exalts.

    8      He raises up the poor from the dust;

    he lifts the needy from the ash heap,

    to make them sit with princes

    and inherit a seat of honor.

    …10      The LORD! His adversaries shall be shattered;

    the Most High will thunder in heaven.   (1 Samuel 2: 1-10)

   

“The Most High will thunder in heaven,” Hannah said. I like that phrase “thunder,” because it is the same word that was used to describe how Peninnah irritated, or thundered against, Hannah! In the divine reversal of Godly justice, Peninnah’s thunderings are turned against her. That is the lesson of the Song of Hannah. God reverses the plight of the humble and the poor so that they are lifted up and become rich.

That is the original Song of Hannah, the one sung by Hannah herself. But it only started there. It continued! It got repeated in Psalm 113:

    5      Who is like the LORD our God,

    who is seated on high,

    6      who looks far down

    on the heavens and the earth?

    7      He raises the poor from the dust,

    and lifts the needy from the ash heap,

    8      to make them sit with princes,

    with the princes of his people.

    9      He gives the barren woman a home,

    making her the joyous mother of children.

    Praise the LORD! (Psalm 113: 5-9)

Now, it is commonly thought that King David himself wrote Psalm 113, and he certainly knew about divine reversal. He certainly knew both sides: how the Lord lifts up the lowly, but also how the Lord brings down the haughty. After Saul had died, and after his best friend, Jonathan had died , it was David who lamented, “How the mighty have fallen.” In fact, he seems to lament the actual weapons of war. “How the mighty have fallen, and the weapons of war perished” (2 Samuel 1:27).

King David lived longer. It is King David’s final speech, when he was about to die, that might provide for us the summary stanza of this process of divine reversal. His last words are known as “The Song of David,” and they are an answer to the age-old question: How does one say what the will of the Lord is, amidst a world of jealousy and envy, violence and power?

So David sings, to God:

    26      With the loyal you show yourself loyal;

    with the blameless you show yourself blameless;

    27      with the pure you show yourself pure,

    and with the crooked you show yourself perverse.

    28      You deliver a humble people,

    but your eyes are upon the haughty to bring them down. (2 Samuel 22:26-28)

“With the loyal, God shows himself loyal.” Those are beautiful words.

Almost a thousand years after King David, a legendary book was written, one which tried to describe where Mary, the mother of Jesus came from. It is called the Protoevangelium of James, from the second century A.D. See if it sounds familiar. It says that Mary’s elderly parents prayed for a child, saying that such a child would then be “a gift to the Lord my God.” Miraculously, Mary is born, as a response to faithful prayer. Then Mary, at the age of three, is presented to the priests in the temple of Jerusalem. Just like Samuel was born and at the age of three was delivered to the priest!

And who was Mary’s mother, according to this story? The mother of Mary was Anna, which is the same word as Hannah. The word, “Hannah” means “grace.” The Song of Hannah, then, means, always, The Song of Grace.

The mother of Mary was named Anna, or Hannah, or Grace. This is why, later, when she learned she would conceive miraculously,  Mary would sing her own song, which would be still another stanza of Song of Hannah, a song of grace:

Mary said,

    My soul magnifies the Lord,

    47      and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,

    48      for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant.

    Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed;

    49      for the Mighty One has done great things for me,

    and holy is his name.

    50      His mercy is for those who fear him

    from generation to generation.

    51      He has shown strength with his arm;

    he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.

    52      He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,

    and lifted up the lowly;

    53      he has filled the hungry with good things,

    and sent the rich away empty. (Luke 1:46-53)

We know that song as the Magnificat today, and we sing it every Sunday at Evensong in this Cathedral. We will sing it during this upcoming season of Advent; it will be our version of the headline news. And from it, a Savior will be born.

What will be your song during this next season? What will be your Song of Hannah, Song of David, Song of Mary, Magnificat, Song of Grace?

Where does your life need reversal? Where does your life need to be lifted up? And, conversely, where might you need to learn humility?

The song of grace is the same, and it has been throughout divine history:

“God delivers a humble people” (2 Samuel 22:28)

“The Lord makes poor and makes rich,

He brings low, he also exults.” (1 Samuel 2:7)

AMEN.

The Very Reverend Samuel G. Candler

Dean of the Cathedral of St. Philip

COMMITTED PEOPLE INTEREST ME

(I originally wrote this article for The Cathedral Times newsletter, 21 October 2012)

To me, the most interesting people are the ones who are committed to something. Uncommitted people just don’t seem that interesting to me.

The Pew Research Center presented their latest analysis of religious affiliation the other day. As expected, the trend that continues is that people are choosing “None” for their religious affiliation. “The number of Americans who do not identify with any religion continues to grow at a rapid pace. One-fifth of the U.S. public – and a third of adults under 30 – are religiously unaffiliated today, the highest percentages ever in Pew Research Center polling,” declared their website.

That is fine with me. If people want to be uncommitted, let them come and go, as they please. Personally, I want people who are committed to something. This has to do with relationships, it has to do with friendships, and it even has to do with sports. It has to do with politics, with investments, with almost everything. Even if you are committed to the sports team who is my team’s competitor, you are more interesting to me than the uncommitted person.

Yes, people who are committed are far more interesting to me than uncommitted ones are.

Committed people risk things. They give things. They give their attention and their time. They give their money. Yes, it is risky to give those kinds of things in life; but, commitment is something we pay for in life. We pay for it, which is to say that sometimes it costs us sadness or conflict. When we are committed, we are often disappointed, and even betrayed sometimes.

In all these ways, commitment is a lot like love. The love which is true love, is very costly. But, glory hallelujah, true love is also worth it. True love lifts me up; it makes me glow. It makes me more interesting! But, when I love, I am also willing to give up things, to pay for things, to commit to things.

So, I do not mind if people are spiritual and not religious. Let them be. But, ultimately, they are not very interesting to me; they float around like teen-age groupies following whoever is that week’s number one in the polls.

I am interested in the long term, the love term. To me, people who risk being committed to something, and to someone, have character; they have a life. They have a place from which to see the world with steady, lasting vision; they have love.

I urge you to commit yourself to something this season. Not just anyone, of course, and not just anything. Commit yourself to someone who is steady and loving. Commit yourself to someone who can, and will, give you life. Commit yourself to Jesus.

Where is this Jesus? He is in his body, which is the church (Colossians 1:24). The Cathedral of St. Philip, and whatever local parish you are close to right now, needs your commitment this year. Yes, we are a body that has some blemishes and even some illnesses from time to time. But we are the Body of Christ, which produces resurrection and new life from those very wounds. In doing so, we have a message and a gospel for anyone in this life who has ever been wounded: love wins.

Commit yourself to the Cathedral parish this year. (Especially if you are an interesting person! We become more interesting, as a parish, when you join us!) Yes, it’s pledge time, too, for the 2013 year. Pledge to the Cathedral in 2013, and –Hey, I also guarantee that you will be a more interesting person!

THE CATHEDRAL OF ST. PHILIP: A HOUSE OF PRAYER FOR ALL PEOPLE

(from 1999: my first sermon on the Feast of St. Philip the Deacon, before the Episcopal Church had officially recognized Philip the Deacon in our calendar)

Observing the Feast of St. Philip, Deacon and Evangelist

10 October 1999

 

Isaiah 56:1-8

Acts 8:26-40

John 13:1-15

 

Acts chapter 8 tells our fascinating story this morning, the story of St. Philip the Deacon, who  found himself wandering one day, down the road from Jerusalem to Gaza. St. Philip was led by God to attach himself to a foreigner, an Ethiopian eunuch, who had been to Jerusalem to worship.

 

Now, talk of a eunuch in polite society and in the discreet Christian Church is not very common these days. (Though we do seem to talk about everything else!) But eunuchs are mentioned in the Bible some fifty times. The general definition of a eunuch might be this: “males who do not have the ability to reproduce.” The reason for that inability might be genetic, and it might be due to accident. Eunuchs were obviously regarded as different from most; and because they were different, certain roles were denied them.

 

They were considered blemished,  and so the books of Deuteronomy and Leviticus dictated that they could not offer sacrifice, or even be admitted to the assembly of the Lord (Deut 23:1-3 and Lev 21:18-20). In fact, they were considered as foreigners. Any foreigner, too, was not allowed to join the chosen people of God.

 

But something happens in the development of Scripture, and in the development of God’s people. The prophet Isaiah changes the attitude of Deuteronomy and Leviticus, when he makes the startling pronouncement at chapter 56, verse 3:

 

Do not let the foreigner joined to the Lord say,

The Lord will surely separate me from his people;

And do not let the eunuch say,

I am just a dry tree.

 

For thus says the Lord:

To the eunuchs who keep my sabbaths,

... and the foreigners who join themselves to the Lord

 

These I will bring to my holy mountain,

And make them joyful in my house of prayer

For my house shall be called a house of prayer for all people.

Thus says the Lord God,

who gathers the outcast of Israel,

I will gather others to them

besides those already gathered.

 

This incredibly provocative passage begins to be fulfilled in the Book of Acts, when Paul and Peter discover that God has poured out the Spirit upon Gentiles, upon people who were not obviously regarded as the people of God.

 

And St. Philip, the deacon, fulfills the prophecy even more clearly. He attaches himself to someone who is both a foreigner and a eunuch, someone who does not fit the customary description of purity and correctness. And Philip baptizes this Ethiopian eunuch. Philip baptizes him and so makes him part of a new community, a new definition of God’s people – just like we baptize people today and make them part of a new community.

 

The witness of Philip is a critical one for us. If we are to follow in his footsteps, it will mean at least three things. First of all, we must be willing to move, to follow the Spirit into new territory, even into wilderness places to which we are unaccustomed. Part of my own fascination with Philip is that he is transported from place to place.

 

It is good that we are named for this kind of Philip, as the cathedral church of a city ...on the move...driving cars and flying airplanes from place to place. The word Philip, in the Greek, translates literally as “lover of horses.” (If you are a horse-lover, you are in the right church!) Philip is a horse-lover; and a horse was the noblest and fastest means of transportation of the day.

 

Yes, there is good reason for Atlanta, with its dependence upon the automobile, upon the airport, and as a crossroads of transportation, to have a cathedral named for Philip, who used transportation to its fullest extent, who traveled to baptize even the foreigner and the stranger. I believe it is a good thing, too, that this very cathedral has traveled. We were once further south, across the street from the state capital; but we kept on the move. We are meant to be a traveling church.

 

If we are to follow Philip, we must overcome any fear of travel, but –secondly-- we must also overcome fear of the foreigner and of the stranger, the one who appears blemished, or much different from the norm. This fear seeps through much of American society these days, and it affects us here in Atlanta. North Atlanta fears South Atlanta. We tend to go to church, to go to schools, to go to clubs, with people who are the most similar to us. Indeed, that is easy. But it is not the mission of St. Philip the Deacon.

 

The mission of St. Philip would be to attach ourselves to the people who are different from us, who speak different languages than us, who are gay or lesbian or straight, but of different sexual orientation than us. The mission of St. Philip would be to serve as a deacon everyone with whom we come into contact.

Thirdly, St. Philip also baptized. We are becoming very good at this. We baptized 101 people last year; and as of today, this cathedral parish has baptized 92 souls this year. I know that not everyone baptized here is immediately energized with the Christian witness; but I believe God honors those baptisms. In baptism, we open our community to a wider and wider constituency. We make people part of the glorious Body of Christ in this place. And we are changed by their presence. The early Christian Church was changed by the influence of different people being baptized, people like this Ethiopian eunuch, people like Timothy whose mother was Jewish, but his father was Greek – a foreigner.

After this baptism of the Ethiopian, St. Philip suddenly found himself at Azotus, a town very far to the north; and the Scripture says he made his way up the Mediterranean coast to Caesarea, where he apparently lived. Later in the Book of Acts, he has four daughters – he has a family– and he is proclaiming the good news.

Proclaiming the good news. That was the mission of St. Philip, and that is our primary task at this cathedral. The good news that Jesus Christ has come among us in love and grace. Jesus loves us, no matter what our ethnic origin or physical description.

In 1933, the Dean of this Cathedral, Raimundo De Ovies preached a sermon in which he claimed that the cathedral was a house of prayer for all people. He said that “from henceforth the keynote of the communicants of this House of God shall be ‘Service.’” “We shall not be respecters of persons,” he said. “One’s possessions, social standing, family affiliations, or any other worldly standard can find no particular value in this place.”

Indeed, we are here to offer another particular value, the value of love. We are here to welcome the lonely and the stranger, the foreigner and the blemished, the rich and the poor, no matter what your wilderness has been. We are here to serve one another with good news: Jesus loves us, no matter where you are in your pilgrimage. This city, where so many are on the move, where so many are strangers, where so many are looking for love –this city-- has a cathedral, a house of prayer for all people.

AMEN.

THE WORLD NEEDS THE CATHEDRAL OF ST. PHILIP

(a sermon for 8 October 2006)
The Feast of St. Philip, Deacon and Evangelist (transferred from October 11)

Acts 8:26-40 

I have so many things to say today, and I know the service will be noisy. This is a baptism day! But I should say this: baptisms are not noisy. They are just spirited. This is a spirited day.

It might be almost as spirited as last Sunday was. I have been in this marvelous cathedral  for eight years now. My first Sunday was eight years ago last Sunday, when we celebrated with great noise and with great spirit the Feast of St. Francis. We blessed animals on that day, and I heard lots of them.

And I heard soul. I still hear soul in this place, yearning to be set free and released for ministry in the world. I have enjoyed ministry here, because I have enjoyed soul.

Since eight years ago, we have also begun observing a second Sunday in October, after Francis. Today is the observance of blessed Philip, blessed Philip the Deacon. The word “deacon” means servant, and it is Philip’s example of service that I want us to use as a model for our commitment here.

Consider Philip, just going about his business as a disciple of Jesus. When called to do something, he did it. When they needed folks to serve food to the widows, he was called. He was serving. He was serving in Jerusalem, not the friendliest place toward this new Christian Church, but at least it was home.

But then God led Philip away from the comfortable and into the unknown, into the wider world. The story says that Philip was led to the south, down a wilderness road.

Here at the Cathedral of St. Philip, we are much like Philip the Deacon and Evangelist. Most of us here want very much to do the right thing. We are followers of the Lord Jesus Christ, but –like Philip was—we are much more comfortable doing the right thing right at home.

It so happened that Philip was led one day away from home. He was led out of Jerusalem and into a wilderness road --  a strange road. There he saw a strange man, a man from Ethiopia, a foreign country. The man had an unusual sexual identity; he was a eunuch. (You young children about to be baptized probably do not know what a eunuch is. Go home and ask your parents. There’s a lot in the Bible that needs to be explained by parents.)

The angel of the Lord instructed Philip to relate, to relate to this strange man, this Other person.

I believe God calls us at the Cathedral to relate to the Other. It may not mean that we leave home for good. But we are called to know the stranger, to relate to folks outside our heritage, outside our situation.

Some of those people might be in another part of the world, Tanzania or Equador. But maybe they are just in a different neighborhood in Atlanta. Maybe they are here in Atlanta from another country: Mexico, or Korea, or the Far East. Maybe some of the folks we are called to know have identities that are different from ours (even sexual identities that are different from ours).

To be members of the Cathedral of St. Philip, we are called to be Philippians, relating to the foreigner, the stranger, the other. Well and good; but what are we supposed to do with them?

Two things. We are supposed to share scripture together. And we are supposed to share baptism together. Word and Sacrament. The foundations of faith. Philip took the initiative to jump up into the chariot with the eunuch. He shared scripture, and then he shared baptism. The same two things I hope we are doing this morning!

I want us to do something else this morning. On this feast day of St. Philip, I want us to share our commitment.

We are beginning today a new year of stewardship. Most of you know that, by stewardship, I mean the graceful care of all that God has given us: the earth, this city, our families and lovers, ourselves.

But most of you know that I also mean money and resources!  In the next three weeks, every one of us –myself included-- will be asked to make another financial pledge to the Cathedral Parish of St. Philip, and I pray that our generosity will be overwhelming.

Strong and committed churches need strong and committed members, members who are like St. Philip. Our stewardship theme this year is “Deep and Wide,” like the River Jordan, like the Kingdom of God itself. Certainly there are some folks here who can give more deeply. And we also need our giving to be wider. Some folks here do not pledge at all, or some do not even give. Our numbers need to widen.

Let me tell you about what you are you giving to, when you give to the Cathedral of St. Philip.

You are giving to an institution who keeps alive the spirit of Philip. We know that Jesus Christ meets us here, when the water washes us clean. We know that Jesus Christ meets us here when that word speaks life-giving gospel to us. But then, we represent the courage to relate to those outside our identity. We represent the courage to meet other people with word and sacrament, scripture and baptism.

Your money, your gifts, enable that gospel of Jesus Christ. It enables our children’s programs, our youth programs, our Bible study programs.

In particular, at the Cathedral of St. Philip, we have an Anglican style of the gospel that the world needs to hear. Our Anglican style, our Episcopal style, is deep and wide. Our biblical study is open and inclusive. It is deep and wide, not shallow and absolutist.

The world has enough absolutism; it has enough narrow-minded and totalitarian interpretation of scripture. The world needs true Anglican handling of the gospel.

The world needs the courage and the spirit of Philip. The world needs the courage and the spirit of Anglican Christianity and the Episcopal Church.

Will these children, whom we are about to baptize, learn to give? Will they learn commitment to Jesus Christ? Will they learn courage and openness to God’s spirit? This baptism trusts that they will.

And they will learn from your example. I am talking not just to parents and godparents when I say “example.” I mean that these children will learn from the example of every single individual in this community, whether you know them or not.

I invite each of you to commit yourself to Jesus Christ this day; and I invite each of you to commit yourself to the Cathedral of St. Philip. That commitment means sharing the word with each other. That commitment means sharing water with each other. That commitment means sharing money with each other.

When we share word, water, and resources (our money!), we are truly sharing ourselves, our heart and soul.

This Cathedral needs soul. It needs heart and soul. And the world needs our heart and soul, too. The world needs the Cathedral of St. Philip, and the Cathedral of St. Philip needs you.

AMEN.

GET UP AND GO: ST. PHILIP THE DEACON AND CHRISTIAN MISSION

 (a sermon for 14 October 2007)
The Feast of St. Philip, Deacon and Evangelist, observed

Acts 8:26-40

Last Sunday, a group of Jewish high school students visited the Cathedral of St. Philip. They had made polite inquiries and arrangements beforehand, asking one of the clergy to meet with them afterwards; and it was clear they were with us to explore the presence of God in traditions other than theirs. I was glad they were with us, and I explicitly welcomed them during the parish announcements.

What I discovered during their visit was that our service changed. Our service was different because this group of Jewish students was with us. I do not mean, of course, that we said any different prayers or sang any different hymns, or consecrated bread and wine any differently.

No, the difference was within ourselves. When I said my prayers that Sunday, I heard those prayers differently. When I used the name of Jesus (which I do often!), when I used images of the cross, when I sang about resurrection, I found myself reflecting –quickly as it might have been—upon how those notes met Jewish ears. As I spoke and prayed and sang, I did not regret a single word. I simply heard them differently. I might even have heard them more definitely and clearly. I certainly realized the power of the name of Jesus again.

That Sunday, I remembered that context changes the way we hear things. Context even changes our comprehension of things. When any two members of a family, for instance, are discussing a third member of that family, the discussion will be quite different if that third member is actually present. When our nation’s leaders discuss other countries, it matters when we know the other countries are listening!

The Episcopal Church has been re-learning this principle during recent years. When Christians are discussing homosexuality, for instance, the tone and attitude of the conversation changes dramatically if gays and lesbians are actually part of the group! And the same goes for global community. The conversation among global western Christians changes dramatically when global southern Christians are present.  It is probably the case that global western and global southern Christians are, for the most part, just learning how to have such graceful and truthful conversations together!

Many of the more strident arguments occurring globally are occurring because some people did not realize that other people were “over-hearing” the conversation. Some people did not realize that other people were in the room. Of course, these other people weren’t literally in the room. These other people were listening to the television coverage and following internet coverage on the world wide web.

Context changes things. Context changes both the way we say things and the way we hear things. And it should. Our context is our community, and community is where we have civil and graceful and truthful conversation. One of the challenges of our time is that Americans really do not know much about the people who are listening to our conversations. Those listeners might be Muslims or Jews. Those listeners might be Iraqi citizens, they might be Nigerian Anglicans, they might be Palestinians, they might be Chinese village farmers, they might be gays and lesbians (who are certainly, and thankfully, among us already). They are “the stranger,” who is closer to us than we think!

How can the Christian Church meet this challenge? This challenge of understanding other cultures? We cannot do it by watching television and looking up items on the internet.

The Christian answer is mission. We must be strong and courageous enough to leave our homes and comfortable culture and to travel out in mission to the world. That is where we learn. Last week, that group of Jewish high school students learned much more about the Episcopal Church by visiting one (and staying all the way through our worship service!). They didn’t just google the Episcopal Church or read the latest blog about us.

The Episcopal Church has taught me that Christians are being called to mission again. We are being called to go out into the world in the name of grace and service.

Today is the feast day of St. Philip the Deacon and Evangelist, and I am glad once again that our cathedral takes him as our patron saint. Consider Philip who had the courage to leave his comfortable home in Jerusalem and to travel along a wilderness road to the South. (I realize that it may not have been courage that prodded him; Jerusalem was in the midst of a persecution that may also have led him to leave!).

It is Philip the Deacon who dares to speak to a stranger, a stranger in terms of culture, race, and gender. The stranger is an Ethiopian eunuch. But he is reading the same sacred scriptures as Philip knows. Philip is led to teach and to baptize. The Ethiopian eunuch is changed by this encounter, and so is Philip! Philip is snatched away by the spirit and finds himself at Azotus; Philip becomes a new man setting up a new home. The Christian Church itself was changed by Philip’s encounter with the stranger.

Christian mission is not merely about changing other people. Christian mission is also about changing ourselves. Though missionaries throughout history have differed mightily in their tasks and character, they do seem to share one experience. Every missionary has a story of how he or she was changed by serving in another culture. He or she was changed by speaking Christian words in a foreign context.

Our Cathedral celebrates Philip today. And our Cathedral celebrates baptism today. What I have said today also applies to baptism. When we baptize new Christians into our church, and into our families, we ourselves are changed by their presence. You who are having children baptized today: remember, it is you who will be changed by their presence! And you, all of us, will be changed in the Spirit of God for the better!

As we celebrate baptism and Philip the Deacon today, I call upon us to re-engage mission. It is time to travel away from our “comfort zones,” whatever they might be. Several groups in this church are already planning our next mission travels. There will be others.

“Get up and go,” said the angel of the Lord to Philip. “Get up and go,” says the angel to us today. Go to that lonely teen-ager playing video games that you do not understand. Go to the south! Go to south Atlanta; go to the southern hemisphere, to Equador and Brazil.. Get up and go to England, to South Africa, to Tanzania, to China and India.

“Get up and go,” and we will all be changed. We will be changed by that spirit of Jesus who said “remember, I am with you always, to the end of the age.”

AMEN.

PHILIP THE DEACON, THE TREASURY OFFICIAL, AND GLOBAL ECONOMIC ANXIETY

 (a sermon for 12 October 2008)
The Feast of Philip, Deacon and Evangelist

Acts 8:26-40

I apologize for being a little late this morning…I was checking our investment portfolio…

Yes, this past week has reminded us that we live in anxious times. Even for those us who do not consult portfolios daily, we know that the bottom line has changed. Even for those of us who do not put our faith in the stock market, we know that we are affected by its wild gyrations and quick falls. Most of us do require some type of financial credit, some type of trusting loan; and, this week, that credit and trust are scarce. Our world is prone to panic and to fear.

So, this past week, I asked several investment experts and financial advisors the same question. They are all friends of mine, and they know I am a priest. I said, “I know you are busy this week, but let me tell you what I have to do on Sunday. I am preaching on the patronal feast day of our church, the Cathedral of St. Philip. I know that my parishioners, when they come to church, are going to have the economy on their minds. They are going to be thinking about global anxiety and financial insecurity.” And so I asked my finance and investment friends, “What should I say to them?”

Every single one of my financial consultants and friends gave me the same sort of answer. They said, “Tell your congregation to focus on the truly important things in life: faith, family, relationships. Remind your congregation to plan for the long term, to focus on things that endure, not on things that are passing away.”

Yes, their answers sounded like sermons! I felt like I should have asked these guys to preach today. The answers they gave are the same things we have been saying in the church for generations! “Pay attention to long-term goals, not quick fixes. Pay attention to the enduring matters of the spirit. Remember that we can achieve great things when we act together. Stay close to communities, like church and family.” One financial advisor, on the front page of the New York Times yesterday, even suggested, “Pray if it helps!”

Now, I can take this sort of advice in two ways. For one: if finance advisors are now turning to religious platitudes, then matters have certainly gotten bad! But, I choose to take a second course: when the world does look confusing and anxious and panic-stricken, people of faith and hope and strength really do have an even larger role to play. The best finance advisors seem to know this.

So, on this morning, the Sunday after the wildest stock market swings in history, and also the Sunday of our patron saint, Philip the Deacon, I want to speak about the enormous responsibility now given to us people of faith. You and I –members of the Christian Church, members of the Cathedral of St. Philip—have just been given our mission for the coming year.

We are called to be people of integrity and hope in the days ahead. There will be many who despair, many who are already too confused, many who will sell into panics. That will not be the behavior of people of faith. Today, it is time for us to “hold fast to that which is good.” It is time for us to help those in need, to help those who may have no community or family to which they can turn.

For, there are people in the world today who have trusted in the wrong things. They have lived too long following the idolatry of irresponsible credit and irresponsible luxury. There are many who have not benefitted from the foundations of a loving community like church. Many may begin seeking the help of the church – not for financial assistance per se-- but for true spiritual assistance. We –you and I-- are to be the people who help them.

The original Philip the Deacon, the saint for whom our church is named, also lived in confusing and anxious times. Foreigners – Romans—had seized the land and the wealth of its citizens. Worse yet, early Christians were beginning to suffer persecution. People began to leave town, to leave Jerusalem, for safer territory. Philip was one of them.

He first travelled to Samaria to preach the gospel. He preached to a strange character named Simon, who was so taken with the power of the gospel that he offered to buy gospel power with money. Yes, this is a strange verse in the Book of Acts, chapter 8, verse 18: it says that “when Simon saw that the Spirit was given through the laying on of the apostles’ hands, he offered the apostles money, saying ‘Give me some of that power also!’”

And Peter, the chief apostle, said, “May your silver perish with you, because you thought you could obtain God’s gift with money!” (Acts 8:20). Imagine trying to buy God’s power with money! But that is exactly what has been occurring in our time, hasn’t it? The gifts that God has for us – gifts like security and hope and trust and love—have been counterfeited by those who think money can achieve them. Money does not, cannot buy our deepest securities and trusts. It just cannot do it. May your silver perish with you, said Saint Peter.

Philip the Deacon was part of this new gospel message, having been driven out of Jerusalem and led into Samaria and across the world. Philip had been ordained deacon to preach and to serve, and he performed those ministries heartily.

In some strange way, the Spirit said to Philip, “Get up and go toward the south, down the wilderness road.” Those of you who have been members of the Cathedral have heard me talk about Philip’s journey before. You have heard me say, before, that just as Philip was called to travel a wilderness road, just as Philip was called to minister to an Ethiopian eunuch, a person who was a stranger in both heritage and gender identity, just as Philip took the initiative to get up into the chariot, so we today –following Philip—are called to enter wilderness willingly and with hope; we today are called to reach out to the Ethiopian eunuch, to the strangers in our midst. Philip’s call is our call. I have noted all this before!

But, today, I want to note another feature of this rich narrative. Note the occupation of the Ethiopian eunuch. What was his task in life? Well, he was in charge of the money. In fact, he was in charge of the entire treasury of the queen of the Ethiopians! Maybe he was the Henry Paulsen of first century Ethiopia!

I am not sure how far that analogy will go. But I am sure of this. The Ethiopian eunuch was in charge of all sorts of money, but he was poor. He lacked something, and he knew it. So he was reading the book of the prophet Isaiah. He did not understand it, but he was reading it.

I believe, in the coming weeks and months, there will be all sorts of new people entering this church, the Cathedral of St. Philip, looking for something they are lacking. They will hear the words of scripture and prayer, but they may not understand them. There will be Ethiopian eunuchs among us.

Our role will be to act as Philip the Deacon acted: to jump into the chariot with them. To explain scripture and tradition. To baptize people into a new gospel reality, where all can find true security and hope.

The assets of this church, the Cathedral of St. Philip, are not the kinds of assets that can be bought. The assets of this church are the free gifts of grace and love in Jesus Christ. We receive them when we baptize. We receive them when we take communion together. We receive them when we sing and pray together, and when we laugh and cry together. We receive them when we serve others in the name of Jesus Christ.

Yes, we receive when we give. We receive when we serve. We receive when we trust.

And those actions are exactly the actions that our world needs right now. The world needs trusting credit, doesn’t it? We can give it. The world needs some calm right now. We can give it. The world needs some stability right now, doesn’t it? We can be that stability. We can be that peace. We can be that trust.

Follow Philip the Deacon today. Join the Cathedral of St. Philip today. Be baptized into the gifts that money cannot buy. Be baptized into love and honor, service and trust.

AMEN.

LET'S BE BORN AGAIN TOGETHER

(my letter to the Cathedral Parish of St. Philip, 4 June 2012)

Thank you, thank you, thank you!

Thank you to so many people who were at church this past Sunday, and to so many others who have written, mostly to say they support me, and also to ask the simple question, “How are you doing?” I offered myself for election as Bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Atlanta this past Saturday, and I was not elected. A good man, my friend Rob Wright, was elected; and I pray the best for him. In fact, we all pray for him in the days ahead, and for Bishop Neil Alexander, who remains Bishop of Atlanta until October.

The Diocese of Atlanta takes a breather now, after the scurrying about and the election itself a few days ago, June 2, 2012. God willing, the General Convention of The Episcopal Church, meeting in Indianapolis during July 3-13, will give formal consent to Rob’s election; and Rob will begin to make the transition from being rector of St. Paul’s Church, Atlanta, to being Bishop of the Diocese of Atlanta. Plans will gradually develop; and, on Saturday, October 13, 2012, the grand ordination service will take place, again, at the Cathedral of St. Philip.

This past Sunday, Trinity Sunday, you heard me answer the question, “How are you?” But my answer bears repeating: I am actually quite happy, even excited. I feel, in a way, that I have gotten my life back. I was certainly willing to be Bishop of Atlanta, and willing to forge a new life in that role. But I am quite happy to live back into my present role and to renew my life as Dean of the Cathedral of St. Philip. It is truly one of the great vocations in the Church, and it is definitely a lot of fun.

So, I have gotten a lot of things back. I was willing to give them up, but God has returned them to me, perhaps consecrated again, in a special and renewing way. I am blessed by that; I am truly blessed.

Please read, or listen to, the sermon I delivered on Trinity Sunday (see here), where I described my life in Christ as having being blown by the wind of the Holy Spirit. I hope to have been carried on the wings of the wind in my life, and—so far—that has been wonderful for me. The wind invited me to offer my candidacy, and now the wind has blown me back home again; I am home, with people I love and with a community I love.

I posted the same sermon on my blog (see here). But I have also posted the sermon I delivered on May 20, 2012, titled “Barsabbas and Matthias: The Patron Saints of Elections” (see here). That sermon, about “leadership as loss,” was very important for me as I prayed my way through this election process. I will certainly develop that theme in the days and years ahead.

Finally, once again: Thank you. Thank you again. Thanks for holding me in prayer, and thanks for checking in with me. Thank you for letting me be born again with you. Jesus said, “The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it. But you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of Spirit.” Let’s be born again together! (Or as Harry Chapin sang in “All My Life’s A Circle:” Our love is like a circle, let’s go around one more time.) God bless you!

IT'S ABOUT THE WIND

(a sermon for TRINITY SUNDAY, 3 June 2012)

John 3:1-17

“The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it;

but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes.

So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.” (John 3:8)

It’s about the wind. My life has always been about the wind.

In Coweta County, I grew up at the top of a large hill, totally exposed to the west. Every evening, I could watch the sun set over the broad pastures below and distant trees on the horizon. In the summertime, I saw huge clouds roll in with the wind, bringing storms week after week.

That wind cooled us in the summertime. In fact, my parents never had air conditioning in our home while we were growing up. For some odd reason, they installed air conditioning only later, after the four of us children had left home! So, until then, in the summer, the wind cooled us just fine.

In the winter, however, that wind was cold. Exposed to the elements, our house always froze in that winter wind, and then the car would not start either.

But I flew kites from that home on the hill. I made model rockets, from the Estes company. I launched those rockets at an angle into the west, so that the wind would then deposit them right back to where I had launched them. Back to home base.

It was when I was a teen-ager that I learned this passage from the Gospel of John, chapter three, where Jesus compares the journey of being born again, to the wind.

“The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it;

but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes.

So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.”

The instant I heard those words, I knew what he was talking about.

I was eager to be born of the spirit when I was in high school, because I wanted to be blowing in the wind, like so many others my age, singing and playing Bob Dylan, “Blowing in the Wind.” That song was not teaching me anything; it was just declaring something poetically that I already knew was true.

I learned that both the Hebrew and the Greek words for wind are the same words for spirit. Ruach and pneuma. Wind and spirit. We sang beautiful songs of the wind in those days:

“Wind, wind, blow on me,

Wind, wind, set me free.

Wind, wind, Jesus sent,

The blessed Holy Spirit.”

My favorite psalm became Psalm 104, a psalm in praise of creation. “Bless the Lord, O my soul,” begins Psalm 104, and it continues, “you make the clouds your chariot, you ride on the wings of the wind, you make the winds your messengers, fire and flame your ministers” (Psalm 104:3-4).

My life in Christ has been a life of being blown with the wind. I don’t mean random meandering. But I mean listening for the wind in the trees, and in the hills, being willing to go where others might not want me to go. The wind of the Holy Spirit has blown me to some wonderful places.

It blew me out to California for school. I met the Holy Spirit lots of times out there. The wind blew me up to the Northeast, and I met the Holy Spirit there, too.

The wind has blown me home, too. The wind has blown me back to Georgia several times. From the northeast, the wind blew me to my first church, St. Jude’s Church, in Smyrna. The wind blew me to South Carolina and then back to Cumming, Georgia. Lo and behold, the wind blew me to South Carolina a second time, and then the wind blew me to this church, the Cathedral of St. Philip, back home to Georgia again.

And here, I have stayed for quite a while – thirteen years. Here at the Cathedral of St. Philip, we have sailed with some very favorable winds together, and I thank you for those excursions, those missions, really. They have been excellent. We have also faced some ferocious storms, haven’t we? But I thank God for those stormy times, too.

The wind of the Holy Spirit is not always gentle. It blows where it wills, and you cannot always tell where it is going. Sometimes, that wind has blown us toward new things that were ahead of their time; those things were difficult, but they were also refreshing.

It was the wind that prompted me this past year to offer my name as a candidate for bishop of Atlanta. I knew it would not be easy. Bishop’s elections are highly charged, and they draw on perspectives and experiences that are difficult to analyze.

But I had to run, because I think God wanted me to offer a new kind of vision for the episcopate these days. The Christian Church needs bishops who like to preach and deliver the gospel to new places. The Church does not need more top-down hierarchy. The Church needs leaders who know how to “ride on the wings of the wind.”

That wind has to be the Holy Spirit.

I am glad I ran for bishop. I hope the offering of myself, and whatever gifts I have, were good for the diocese, and for the general church discussion about our future. It was good for me, helping me to understand my role and my identity in this church.

I hope my running for bishop was good for you, too, this parish, the Cathedral of St. Philip. I was not elected, which is okay. A good person was elected. But I hope that my running has been an example to all of us, about what it means to take risks. We have done some great things here, but God would not have us stand still.

God always sends wind. It is our eternal challenge to catch that wind, to ride that wind. So, I hope that my running for bishop was an example of what it means to take a risk, to be willing to leave the safe harbor and venture out into the wind. I liked it!

Last year, on this very day, Trinity Sunday, I preached about relationship. I reviewed all the ways I have discussed the doctrine of Trinity here, but I ended up by talking about Trinity as “relationship.” Because God lives in relationship – “Father, Son, and Holy Spirit” – we are meant to live in relationship, too.  If we are made in the image of God, then we are meant to live in the same kind of Trinitarian loving relationship that God lives in.

But these relationships, in which we are meant to live, have to always be moving. They are like atoms. In an atom, with nucleus, protons, and electrons, those particles are always swirling about each other -- committed and drawn to each other, yes, but also swirling delightfully around each other and into time and space.

Our holy relationships are meant to be born of that wind, the holy wind, the Holy Spirit of God. I look forward to our next wind together. We are supposed to be born of the Spirit together!

You know, when it comes to literal sailing, I am not a very good sailor. It is very hard for me to sail against the wind. It forces me to tack one way, and then the other. Sometimes, I feel like I am losing wind.

But I do trust the wind. Because, even though the wind always takes me far away, the wind also brings me home again. The wind has taken me to some distant places, but the wind – I mean, the Spirit—the Spirit always blows me home again, too.

The answer is blowing in the wind. And the wind has always carried me home, the place of holy relationships.

I thank God that, today, I am home. Home with people I love. Home in a community I love. And, home, where I can be born again! Home, after all, is where you can be born again, over and over again.

So I am glad to be home today. Excited actually! I am glad, and hopeful, to be born again, with you.

Let’s do it again! Let’s be born again, from above, for the sake of the kingdom of God. It does not mean that things will always be easy. The wind might blow us away, for a time, again.

“The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it;

but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes.

So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.”

But the wind also blows us home. Yes, when it is of the Spirit, the wind blows us home again.

Thank you. I love the wind, and I love being home. I love you.

Amen.