A Sermon for Proper 20 (Year B)

It’s so good to be back with you all. I’ve spent the last week in New York City for the first session of a 2-year leadership development program run by Trinity Church on Wall Street. If you’re not familiar with it, Trinity is one of the wealthiest parishes in the Anglican Communion. It has a truly mind-boggling endowment and budget. And its office building in downtown Manhattan feels far more like a massive corporate headquarters than the small parish offices I’m used to. By all financial or numerical metrics, it’s a highly ‘successful’ church. So while I was definitely excited about this opportunity, I have to admit I was also apprehensive that I was stepping into a world that would be all about ‘success’—successful leadership, successful ministries, successful churches. But I ended up being reminded of something quite different.

A Sermon for Proper 18 (Year B)

“Who do you think you are?!”

It was one of the more humbling moments of my young adulthood. I had invited myself to a meeting of a local support group for trauma survivors. But as I took a seat in the circle of chairs, a woman a couple chairs over sternly said, “Who do you think you are, coming in here?!” This response was startling and off-putting, especially within the context a support group—after all, shouldn’t inclusivity be the priority?

A Sermon for Proper 17 (Year B)

What do you see when you look in the mirror?

You might see your reflection so often that you barely think about it. Most of us spend a fair amount of time each day gazing into mirrors—whether we’re picking an outfit or brushing our teeth or maybe noticing how a few more gray hairs or wrinkles have made their debut since the last time we looked. In daily life, we’re surrounded by reflections of ourselves: changing room mirrors, storefront windows, the pesky little pictures of yourself on Zoom calls that you have to click to turn off.

The trick is that these reflections don’t necessarily tell us the truth about what we look like.

A Sermon for Proper 15 (Year B)

Have you ever had a meal that has changed your life? Like really rocked your world? A meal that has taught you something—opened up a whole new realm of possibilities—a new way of seeing and being in the world?

A Sermon for the Feast of the Transfiguration

One of the things I love most about Stillwater are the hills. I find much of the Midwest unnervingly flat, but being nestled in the St. Croix Valley feels like home—reminiscent of West Virginia, where I grew up among the hills and valleys of the Appalachian Mountains. I’m not an outdoorsy person by any stretch of the imagination, nor have I ever been, really. I resented the weekend family hikes in the state and regional parks around our home. And I’m sure I was insufferable, with my bad attitude and melodramatic comparisons to forced marches in history. But even as a grumpy kid, I had to begrudgingly admit that mountaintop views are usually worth the sweat and mosquito bites.

A Sermon for Proper 10 (Year B)

Periodically, my husband Benji and I rehash a well-rehearsed debate over how often is too often to rewatch The Lord of the Rings films. Usually my stance is that they should be viewed once a year, but lately I’ve been rethinking that stance and considering watching them again “early.” That’s because reading the news and looking ahead to the future feels increasingly resonant with the angst of Tolkien’s characters as the dark cloud of Sauron’s destruction creeps across the sky and they realize the scope of the struggle ahead.

A Sermon for Proper 9 (Year B)

A couple weeks ago, when I got to the office, I noticed that the pride flag hanging on the porch had been unceremoniously torn down. It’s not really surprising per se—I think it’s the second or third time it’s happened since I came to Ascension just under two years ago. But it was discouraging.

A Sermon for Proper 5 (Year B)

Families are easily one of the greatest blessings about human life and simultaneously one of the greatest sources of grief and pain. Those of you who have heard my own story know that I am estranged from my birth family. Human sins like homophobia have wreaked havoc and driven a wedge between myself and the people I “ought” to have the closest ties to. And I know from conversations with many of you in moments of crisis, that alongside the hopeful joy which you experience with your loved ones, many of you also carry deep wounds inflicted by family.