Why We Give

Why We Give

A Sermon for Proper 25 (Year C)

“God, thank you. Thank you that I’m not like those people—the misers, the slackers, the people who only show up on Christmas and Easter. I’m here every Sunday. I sacrifice my time to serve the community. I pledge to the stewardship campaign every year, and I know I give more than half of these people ever will. So God, thank you.”

This is what the first man in today’s Gospel might sound like if he were standing here now.

The implicit antisemitic bias in Western Christianity might make us hear ‘Pharisee’ and think: “Ah, this is a story about Christianity vs. Judaism—Faith vs. Works.” But that’s not really what’s going on here. For one thing, both of the characters in the story are Jewish. This Pharisee’s problem isn’t that he’s an observant Jew. He prays! He fasts! He gives a full 10% of his wealth to God! These are all really good things—things that God commands and calls us to again and again in the words of Scripture.

brackish springs & implanted words

My lectio on James this morning pulled together a string of verses that have been milling around in my head lately:

  • “From the same mouth come blessing and cursing. My brothers and sisters, this ought not to be so. Does a spring pour forth from the same opening both fresh and brackish water?” — Jas 3:10-11

  • “When [Israel] came to Marah, they could not drink the water of Marah because it was bitter […] Moses cried out to the LORD; and the LORD showed him a piece of wood; he threw it into the water, and the water became sweet.” — Ex 15:23a,25a

  • “For blessed is the wood by which righteousness comes.” — Wis 14:7

  • “May I never boast of anything except the cross of our Lord Jesus Christ, by which the world has been crucified to me and I to the world.” — Gal 6:14

  • “I have been crucified with Christ; and it is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me.” — Gal 2:19b-20a

  • “Therefore rid yourselves of all sordidness and rank growth of wickedness, and welcome with meekness the implanted word that has the power to save your souls.” — Jas 1:21

To Ferne Halwes: Anglicanism as Pilgrimage

To Ferne Halwes: Anglicanism as Pilgrimage

“Anglicanism is a mess—a beautiful mess, but still a mess.”

I do love being Anglican. If I hadn’t encountered God’s embrace in Anglicanism’s sacramental life and open sensibility, I’m not sure I would have returned to the Church at all. So, I am truly, unfeignedly thankful that our Communion exists. But I must confess to making apologetic statements like this on behalf of our tradition on a semi-regular basis. Friends from every ecumenical quarter are often puzzled by the amorphous phenomenon called ‘Anglicanism,’ variously poking fun at and valiantly struggling to understand who and what we are.

Sick of This

Sick of This

A Sermon for Lent 4 (Year C)

How many days in a row can you eat the same thing before you get sick of it? 2… 3 days? A week?

I’m a creature of extreme habit; so my tolerance for culinary monotony might be a little higher than average. But even I eventually get sick of eating the same thing, day in and day out. I think most of us probably know the feeling. If we’re fortunate, we’re able to change things up. We can choose something new when we’ve gotten sick of the old. “Eh, I’m sick of pizza; let’s get sushi instead.” But sometimes we don’t get a choice.

My Body, My Blood

My Body, My Blood

A Sermon for the Feast of the Annunciation

Mary was a priest.

Now, I don’t mean that she was a priest in the way that, say, Father Craig is a priest. I’m not saying that she was necessarily ordained, ministering the Sacraments and other rituals of the Church. But still, today, on this feast of the Annunciation, we do see Mary as a priest in a very real sense.

Reaching Roots

Reaching Roots

A Sermon for Epiphany 6 (Year C)

“Just reach out if you need anything!”

That phrase gets a lot of mileage in our lives. Maybe too much mileage… It’s the standard line that we offer to friends, and that they offer us in return. But how often do you actually take someone up on that offer? I know I rarely do. Even when I know I need it… even when I know the offer’s sincere… I hate actually asking for help.

Gallons of Grace

Gallons of Grace

A Sermon for Epiphany 2 (Year C)

“I’m running on empty.”

How many of us have heard or said something like these words in just the last few weeks? The past two years have taken so much from us—from each and every one of us. They’ve taken our health, our loved ones, our lives, our hope. The pandemic has sapped away so much of our energy—our will to live. It’s drained away so much of our joy. And now, as yet another variant of the virus rages around us, we’re seeing the tiny glimpses of “normal” that we’d caught slip away before our eyes. And it’s crushing.

It’s understandable that we would feel desolate, worn down, forsaken. This is hard. It’s so, so hard. The heartbreak from canceling plans and refusing hugs. The sadness from covering our lips that long to smile and sing. The exhaustion from trying to nurture our children in the midst of this storm. The frustration from struggling to keep patients alive. It’s okay to feel like you’ve got nothing left to give to feel like you’re running on empty. Because our emptiness is not the end. The story doesn’t end when our wells run dry.