Sermon for Ann Tormey

John 10:11-18                                                                                 

            About a month ago, Tara (one of Ann’s granddaughters) called me and asked me when we could baptize her son, Noah.  She wanted her grandparents to be there for the baptism as she knew it would be important to them.  I offered a few dates and Tara picked Sept. 15^th.  Even just days before, we thought that her grandparents would be there.  Unfortunately, they could not make it.  The family suggested I bring them communion so that the whole family could share communion that day. I also brought the chrism.  I had explained to Tara and Stuart the day before that we use consecrated oil for baptisms, for prayers of healing and often before death.  It’s not the exact same oil, but it’s very similar.  When we baptize someone, we mark the sign of the cross on the child/adult’s forehead and we say, “You are sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked as Christ’s own forever.” I always ask the parents and Godparents to put the oil on the child’s forehead as well.  It’s my favorite part of the baptism because it reminds me of the permanence of God’s promise to us. “You are marked as Christ’s own forever.”

Since Ann and Jim could not be at the baptism, I brought the oil to them and Tara held Noah for them so they too could anoint Noah. Ann was reluctant at first.  She was never one to make herself the center of anything, but her family encouraged her and she did with a huge smile.  After I found out that she died about 12 hours later, I wished that I had used that oil to anoint her, but I know she would not have wanted that. It was never about her.

            Most Christians are so accustomed to the image of Jesus as the Good Shepherd and us as his sheep. We are so used to it, we forget that it’s kind of an odd way to describe God, the creator of heaven and earth, the redeemer of all humanity.  The Greek gods were powerful and often frightening.  The Romans made their most powerful leaders into gods.  Yet Jesus refused to be the kind of god that so many wished for.  He would not wield his power with violence or even displays of majesty.  He showed his power with radical and unconditional love.  In this Gospel reading, he uses the imagery of the shepherd, who lays down his life for the sheep.  Jesus was a leader, but he was a servant as well.

            Ann’s dear friend Gwen told me that Ann would never be the first to go through a door.  She would always insist the other person go before her.  And that in many ways, summed her up. Her son told me that she had the life of 10 people.  She did. She had a wonderful life full of adventure, amazing places, dear friends, a loving family, and a husband she adored and who adored her.  Yet she did not take that for granted.  She never acted as though she was entitled.  She was a leader, but she was a servant leader.  Now, all over town, you will see free lunches for children in the summer because people realized that many children go hungry without school to feed them.  Yet long before the rest of us figured that out, Ann was in the kitchen with a small group making sandwiches for a local apartment complex where she knew that there were lots of children who might otherwise go hungry.  She never advertised this.  She never advertised anything she did.  She did it because she cared.  She did it because she knew the Good Shepherd and she followed him.

            I was a little disappointed that I did not offer to anoint Ann and Jim.  We don’t offer Last Rites in the Episcopal Church---at least we don’t call it that.  But we do sometimes anoint people before they die if they request that.  Yet the more I thought about it, the more I realized that was not how Ann operated. She died not because she felt closure because she was anointed, I believe that she was able to find some peace because once again, she was able to perform one last act of service, by blessing her great grandson and marking him as Christ’s own forever.  There are some in the church who will tell you that only priests can bless.  Yet I feel safe saying that while Ann didn’t anoint all of us, she blessed us all with her love, her compassion, her kindness and her selflessness.  She left her mark on us all.  We will miss her, but her Spirit will always be in this church and this community.  

Charles Amory homily: August 9

Psalm 121                                        

            The psalm we heard today(Psalm 121) falls in the category of the psalms of ascent.  This category of psalms is made up of 15 psalms that speak to some element of pilgrimage or journey.  This particular psalm talks about trust that can sustain us through the journey o f life. This idea of life being a journey isn’t really a new idea for us.  We are accustomed to that imagery. Some of our journeys take us to many different places, and some of our journeys are more figurative. While Charlie lived in Hampton for most of his life, that did not make his life any less of a journey.  It was full of twists and turns.  It was full of excitement, but also constancy and stability.

            I spoke with a number of people about Charlie, and read the beautiful obituary and the many loving comments that followed. A common theme was that he was a man of integrity.  What I loved about the obituary was that it did not focus on his successful business or his importance in the community, but instead on how he operated his business, which really was more of a family than a business.  (Which is why the people from Amory seafood are seated with the family.) One person said that “Charlie proved that ruthlessness and rudeness are not necessary to be a large success in business.”  He was a businessman with a heart.

I was told that you would not hear an unkind word said about him because he did so much for people.  He took care of people.  People knew that they could put their trust in him and that he would not let them down.  That’s a good legacy to have.

            Psalm 121 talks about the trust that we have in the Lord.  The trust that this psalmist has in the Lord allows the psalmist to face the challenges of life and feel safe, even when life feels anything put safe. One of the themes is that God is the keeper of our soul.  When in trouble, the psalmist looks to the hills and asks where help will come from and immediately answers that his help comes from the Lord, the maker of heaven and earth.  It’s a popular psalm because I think many people crave that kind of faith, that belief that there is a caring an omnipotent presence in our world that loves us and wants to be loved…a being that we can trust our lives and our hearts with.

            I try hard never to compare people to Jesus or God, because as we know, we all fall short of that.  But I also believe that we see glimpses of God in people. We see attributes of God in people.  Charlie was described universally as a man with integrity, and what is integrity, but another word for trust?  So often in this world we are told that only the tough survive and thrive.  The tender hearted get trampled on.  There are so many people who live in fear of being trampled and taken advantage of-- they refuse to show vulnerability, or even kindness.  Yet from what I have gleaned about Charlie…he was tender hearted.

He was successful, partly because he loved so fully and completely.  His wife told me that he was the soft touch in the family.  If she ever said, “Wait until your father comes home” when disciplining their children, they would know that she was kidding.  He was kind.  And you know what, kindness is severely underrated in this day and age.

            Right now in our world, we look to all types of places for help and direction.  We look to the internet and social media.  We look to things that we can buy and sell.  We look to false prophets of all sorts.  And those things and people fall short.  I know that losing someone like Charles, even someone who had a wonderful and full life is devastating.  We rejoice in the way he lived, but we also mourn the loss. 

The author of Psalm 121 tells us to lift our eyes to the hills.  We don’t have hills here in Hampton Roads, but we have the sea.  We have the horizon that seems endless.  Charlie and his family built their lives on the vast waters of our region.  These waters are unpredictable at times, yet the yield of those waters have provided for generations.  They have nourished our bodies and to some degree, our souls.  Charlie has finished his earthly pilgrimage, but he continues his journey beyond the horizon, to a place we cannot see, but a place that we see glimpses of in the sunsets and the storms.  I hope that his words and actions will continue to inspire you to love fiercely and loyally, to earn and deserve trust.  May we never forget that in the end, our help, our faith rests in the Lord, the keeper and protector of our souls.  May we find comfort in the relentless love of our Lord, Jesus Christ.

Homeward Bound: May 14, 2017

Year A, Easter 5                                                  
John 14:1-14                                                              

            As some of you know, my parents moved here just last week.  It is wonderful to have them here.  I could not be happier for so many reasons.   Therefore it surprised me at how hard it was for me to say goodbye to their house.  My dad was in the Navy for almost all of my youth.  I was a late addition to the family and did not move around nearly as much as my brothers, but I never had a house or a place I was really attached to.  When we moved to a tiny town in upstate New York when I was 16, I was kind of miserable.  Yet I made amazing friends there and became very attached to the life my parents created. I loved that house. Even as a priest, my husband and I returned every year a few days after Christmas.  Driving up the road, I would see the Christmas lights hanging from the balcony of the deck and every light lit. The house sat on a hill and from the road it seemed like a tree house. 


Painting of the house at Christmas by my brother, Bill Vincent

          As soon as I walked in, I felt safe. I felt like I was home even though I had spent so little time there. This Christmas, as I packed up my old photo albums and yearbooks I could not stop crying.  I kept thinking, what is wrong with me??? They are coming to live near me! This is just a house. Besides, you know what they say, home is where the heart is.  That means a home can move. Yet even knowing that, it was still heart wrenching driving away for the last time.

            The words of John 14 are familiar to me and probably familiar to many people.  Those first 6 verses are the most common verses you will hear at any funeral…perhaps second only to Psalm 23, which we heard last week.   While I have never asked anyone why they chose those verses, I assume it has a lot to do with the first line, “Do not let your hearts be troubled.”  It’s something that we all need to hear when we are grieving.  It’s not saying, “Don’t be sad.”  It’s saying, “Don’t let your heart be troubled.”  To be troubled is a more permanent condition.  It’s the kind of sadness that has no hope. Jesus is saying, if you believe in me, there is always hope, even in grief. 

However, the part that sees to really resonate with people is, “In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places.”  Jesus then goes on to tell his disciples who are gathered around him, desperate for words of comfort and hope-- that he is going to prepare a place for them so that “there you may be also.”  Many of us hear this and envision Jesus up in heaven in a magnificent mansion fluffing the pillows and opening the shades to let the bright effervescent light of the sun in.  What could be more comforting than knowing that when this life is over, there will be a place for us that Jesus has prepared, a place where Jesus waits to greet us?  It is an incredibly comforting image and one that I have preached at many funerals. 

            I suppose that the only thing that could be more comforting than knowing that there would be a place for us after death, would be knowing that  there is a place for us while we are alive as well.  Another way to read this text is: “In my father’s house there are many abiding places.”  If you look through many of the readings for this Sunday, you will find this theme of abiding, or living with the Lord. It would seem that Jesus was not just referring to our final home, but the place where we can abide here, in this life. Jesus was telling his disciples (and that includes us) that there is a place here on earth where we can feel the presence of God, feel as though we are safe, at home. 

            When I was at college, there was one place where I always felt safe. It will be no shock to you to know that it was the college chapel.  Yet it was surprising to me at the time.  You see, before college, I had never felt at home in a church. Church was a nice place to go.  I liked the music.  I liked the essence of church.  But it never felt like home.  It was never a place I sought.  Yet in college, the chapel was always open.  There were rooms in the basement where we could study.  One fridge was always stocked with Diet Dr. Pepper.  And no matter what time you came (whether it was 10am or 1am) someone was almost always there.  I studied there. I made friends there.  I worshipped there.  It was a safe place.  It was a place where I felt that I belonged.  The reason I felt like I belonged there was not just that there were people I knew and comfy chairs, but I felt close to God.  It was like God was right there and I could pop in anytime.

            When Jesus told the disciples about a dwelling place that was prepared for them, he wasn’t just talking about a future place where we all congregate after death. He was talking about the place where God abides.  God isn’t just waiting for us in this mysterious place called, “life after death.” God is here with us now. This was important for the disciples to know because Jesus wanted them to understand that even after he died, was resurrected and ascended into heaven, he was still there with them. There was still a place for them, on earth, a safe place where God dwelled with them.  They did not quite understand it at the time.  It was only after Jesus spent time with them after his resurrection when they were able to fully comprehend what it was to abide with God, even though Jesus was not present in bodily form.  Once they started to understand that, they were able to help other people have a sense of that abiding presence of God here on earth.

            My parents moved last week.  I helped them a little bit on their move.  Even when their stuff was still in boxes….even though it was only the 2^nd or 3^rd time I had been there…I had this overwhelming feeling that I was coming home.  It is nothing like where they used to live.  It has none of the familiar smells, sounds, or views. But they are there. That is their dwelling place, which means it is a safe place for me.  I feel the same way about St. John’s.  When I walk into the sanctuary….it does not matter what day it is.  It does not matter whether it is full, empty or mostly empty…it feels like home.  It feels like the place that I belong, not because I am the rector here, not because I know the people here, but because this is a place where I can feel God.  That is my prayer for all of you; that you can find God in this place, that this can be a home for you in your joy, in your grief, and in your doubt.  There is always a place for you here.  But more importantly, there is a place for you anywhere you go.    When you experience the love of God, you are home.  Welcome home.

             

Letting go: Mark 12:38-44

Year B, Pentecost 24                                                         November 8, 2015

            Our Gospel reading is a deceivingly difficult text.  At first glance, it seems like a gift from heaven. Here we are in the middle of our fall stewardship campaign and the Gospel reading is the widow’s mite.  Everyone knows that story…the woman who has little gives all she has to her faith community. It’s almost like we purposefully picked this reading for this time of the year.  But then you have that darn context again.  Right before this lovely story about the widow is Jesus telling the crowd to beware of the scribes who like to walk around in long robes….who devour widow’s houses for the sake of appearances say long prayers.  These scribes that Jesus is warning about are the same scribes who might benefit from the gift that this poor widow is making.  Furthermore Jesus is accusing them of taking advantage of the plight of widows like her and here she is giving everything she has to them. It seems odd that Jesus would support such a action.

            We hear a lot about widows in the New Testament as well as the Old Testament.   The Bible tells us again and again how important it is to care for widows.  There were several reasons this group of people received special attention in the Bible.  Now when we think of widows, we consider the emotional ramifications, the loss one experiences when he or she loses their spouse.  While that was certainly a factor at this time, the primary social concern was related to caring for the physical needs of the widows. 

At this time, women could not inherit money or property.  If her husband died, she would be left with nothing.  If she had a son, the property would all go to the son and the expectation would be that the son would care for his mother.  However, if there was no son, then there was no safety net.  If the woman was still young and able to have children, she might be able to marry again.  If this was not possible, then her options were limited to: depending on the kindness of male relatives, begging on the streets, or becoming a prostitute.  Working was not an option for women and there was no social security or Medicare.  Widows epitomized what it was to be completely vulnerable and dependent on others for their own well-being.  This is why the people of God were commanded again and again to care for widows. 

In the Gospel for today, we are told that not only was this woman a widow, but she was a poor widow, which tells us that she had no one caring for her.  She had nothing except for two coins.  She gave both of those coins to the treasury of the temple.  The traditional understanding of this text (and the one that is most convenient for stewardship sermons) is that she was a model of sacrificial giving.  She gave everything she had to God.  Jesus was holding her up as an example for all of us to follow. The more critical interpretation is that Jesus was using her to illustrate how unjust the system was, another example of how the poor and vulnerable were abused.  Right after he pointed her out, he predicted the destruction of the temple.  Why would he encourage her or anyone else to give to a temple that was about to be destroyed? 

The more I wrestled with these two interpretations, the more frustrated I became. I realized that I could not with integrity preach the traditional interpretation of the text with the emphasis on sacrificial giving but I also felt that she had more to teach us than what was wrong with the world at that time. 

We had a funeral recently and I was reading the liturgy and I came to a part that I have never given much consideration.  “For if we have life, we are alive in the Lord, and if we die, we die in the Lord.  So, then, whether we live or die, we are the Lord’s possession.”  We are the Lord’s possession.  It seems strange to me that we find comfort in this statement after someone has died because I am pretty sure there is no other time when we refer to ourselves or others as the Lord’s possession.  People would probably balk at that idea. Nobody wants to be someone else’s possession, even if that someone else is God.   It is only when we lose someone to death that we can allow for the possibility that they are now God’s possession.

That reminded me of the widow in this story.  All the commentators and scholars, when they talked about her being a widow, it was only to explain her plight, her financial circumstance.  It was never about the fact that this woman had lost not only her financial stability, but her partner in life. I know that there are many people here who have suffered that loss, or the loss of a child, a parent, a sibling, a close friend.  Most of us have lost someone who is precious to us.  I can only imagine the pain that must come with losing a partner in life.  In my limited experience with loss, what I have learned is that even in our grief when we acknowledge the person as the Lord’s possession, we still have to find the strength to let go, to truly accept that they are the Lord’s possession.  We have to let go of something that was once ours to hold and give it to God.  When you have experienced that kind of loss, then letting go of a few coins, even if they are the only coins you possess, isn’t that big a deal…not much of a sacrifice at all. 

I wonder if this widow, in her intimacy with loss and grief, knew something that the great scholars of her day and ours cannot quite grasp.  Whether we live or die, we are the Lord’s possession.  If we can understand that while we are still living, then we become free from everything.  When we declare that we are the possession of the Lord, then we no longer feel as possessive about what we have or think we have.  This woman is held up as a model of sacrificial giving.  Perhaps that is true, but not because she sacrificed a few coins, but because she learned to let go.  She learned the hard way, but she learned.  I imagine that is one of the hardest lessons in life, letting go of people, letting go of control, letting go of things, letting go of independence, letting go of prestige…. The way we find strength to let go is to trust that we are not letting go into some abyss.  We are letting go so that God can take hold.  In letting go, we are giving…we are giving to God.   

When we Die, We Rise: September 13, 2015

Year B, Pentecost 16                                                         
Mark 8:27-38                                                                         

            A couple of years ago, I remember seeing various media outlets proclaiming that Christmas was under attack.  They referenced things like nativity scenes being removed from public places and people feeling the need to say, “Happy Holidays!” instead of Merry Christmas.  I see the point. Stores are open on Christmas and fewer and fewer people have the luxury of taking that day off.  Many churches no longer have services on Christmas Day because so few people attend on Christmas Day. As a priest, I do not relish looking through Christmas cards to find that less than half of them have any explicit Christian message.  But to say it is under attack seems a bit of an exaggeration especially when you consider that Christians in other parts of the world are being beheaded for their faith.  They are being physically attacked.  Christianity is under attack in our world.  Christians in countries like Syria, Iraq, Libya, North Korea and the Sudan…those Christians are under attack.   In parts of Iraq Christians are given three options.  They can renounce their faith in Jesus Christ, pay a large tax or be killed.   No one in America gets killed for saying Merry Christmas.

            The readings for today are not easy readings.  They don’t go along well with Dixieland music, nor the positive emotion that we are trying to start the program year with.  Proverbs reprimands us for being foolish and not listening to wisdom.  James reminds us of how destructive our words can be.  In Mark, Jesus says, “For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.”  I have seen a lot of Bible quotations on bumper stickers, greeting cards, signs, etc, but I am pretty sure that I have never seen that one. 

It’s not even one of those quotes that softens when contextualized.  Jesus said these words after he explained to the disciples that he would have to suffer and die.  When Peter challenged him on this, Jesus decided that they needed a little more teaching.  While they had acknowledged Jesus to be the Christ, they didn’t really understand.  That might be why Jesus told them not to tell anyone.  They still did not get it and Jesus did not want them sharing things that they did not understand.  It wasn’t just that they did not understand, they willfully misunderstood.  They were ready to proclaim Jesus as the Christ, but not the kind of Christ who suffered and died.  That was not the messiah they agreed to follow. They still had much to learn and in some ways, they didn’t comprehend it until Jesus died and was resurrected. 

            When it became clear to Jesus that they could not accept the truth that he would have to suffer and die, he provided them with very clear directions to become a disciple.  It is three phases: Deny yourself. Take up your cross.  Follow me.  It was after those instructions when he told them, “For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake, and for the sake of the gospel, will save it.”  Deny yourself.  Take up your cross.  Follow me.  They were already following him, but they hadn’t quite gotten on board with the first two phases.  Jesus knew that.  He also knew that until they were ready for the first two phases, they would not truly be able to follow them.  We know the ending of Mark, we know that they did not follow him to his death. They did not help him carry the cross.  They were not there when he died.  They had abandoned him.

            We cannot blame them for that.  We know now what they did not know,  the end of the story.  We know that Jesus’ death was not the end.  We know that Jesus conquered death and was resurrected.  They did not know that.  They thought the story was over. So they did not follow him to the cross.  But after they witnessed the resurrection, it all clicked. They understood and they denied themselves, picked up the cross and followed him.  Most of the disciples were killed because of it, but not before they spread Jesus’ message far and wide, not before they built the Christian Church.

            One of the things I love about southern Virginia and particularly Hampton is that the church is supported.  It’s true, not nearly as many people come to church today as they did 30 years ago.  Business are open on Sundays.  There are sports that conflict with Sunday morning.  But…we can still pray in public.  When I was asked to pray for the pirate festival, I asked for some clarification as that was one of the big gaps in my seminary education…pirate prayers.   I asked if it was ok if I include Jesus in my prayers.  The response was, “of course.”  This would not be true in most places.  In fact, I don’t think most pirate festivals begin with prayer at all.  In addition, the churches here are still included in community events.  The public schools actively reach out to faith communities to be part of the schools.  There are many communities that are not like this.  In other communities, churches are no longer part of the prevailing culture.  People don’t necessarily deride church goers, but they don’t encourage it either.  While I love the fact that this community is still open to faith, that comfort also creates complacency.  We don’t know what it is to suffer for our faith and because of that we get irritated when we are in any way inconvenienced because of our faith.  Suffering and being inconvenienced are two very different things.

            In February the world was stunned when 21 Coptic Christians were killed on video.  They died proclaiming Jesus.  I wonder…I really wonder if I would have the strength to do that.  The actual definition of martyr is a witness.  It is someone who witnesses their faith.  We don’t have to die to be martyrs…very few in America do.  Yet we still fall short of what it is to be disciples and witnesses.  Every time we let something take priority over God, every time we put self over God, we fall short.   Every time we let go of an opportunity to share the love of Christ, we fall short.  I know I do.  I do every day. But there is good news in all of this.  Our faith is a faith that allows for…no demands new beginnings.  When we fall, we get up.  When we sin, we confess and we are reconciled.  When die, we rise.  We owe it to Jesus, but also to those Christians who cannot speak up, who cannot attend a church, who cannot look upon the cross—we owe it to them to speak, to be witnesses. 

            In the beginning of this sermon I lamented the fact that these readings didn’t really go with upbeat Dixieland.  But I decided to do some research on the song “When the Saints go Marching in” which is what this band will conclude with.

In New Orleans, the song is traditionally used as a funeral march at jazz funerals. When the band walks with the funeral procession on the way to the cemetery, the tune is actually dirge like.  But after committing the body to the ground (ashes to ashes, dust to dust), the band switches to the upbeat Dixieland style.[1]  This is very true to our faith.   Funerals are both a time of sorrow and a time of rejoicing.  As Christians when we fall, we get up.  When we sin, we confess and we are reconciled.  When die, we rise.  We celebrate that resurrection at funerals.  As long as we live our life following Jesus Christ, the dirge will never have the last word, or the last note.  Jesus Christ conquered death to ensure that the last word will always be Alleluia. 

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[1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/When_the_Saints_Go_Marching_In