Sean C. Kim
St. Mary’s Episcopal Church Second Sunday of Easter 7 April 2024 Psalm 133 is one of my favorite psalms. I like it so much that I have the psalm in Latin posted to the corkboard in my office at school. Ecce quam bonum et quam iucundum habitare fratres in unum! Oh, how good and pleasant it is when brethren live together in unity! What a treat it is to have the choir chant it so beautifully this morning. One of the reasons I’m so fond of the psalm is because family means so much to me. My parents are no longer living, but I’ve always been close to my sister and brother and their families. We went to the same schools, even college and graduate school, and we currently live just minutes from each other. My family provides me with love and support. And among life’s greatest joys for me – and I’m sure this is true for many of you - is gathering around the table together as a family. Perhaps, it’s my Asian, Confucian heritage with its emphasis on the family. Or perhaps, it’s all the “Leave It to Beaver” and “Brady Bunch” reruns that I watched as a kid – and still do. I’m also drawn to the striking poetic imagery of the psalm. Brethren living in unity is compared to “the fine oil upon the head that runs down upon the beard of Aaron, and runs down upon the collar of his robe” (Psalm 133:2). The oil is olive oil. These days, we use olive oil mainly for cooking, but in ancient Israel, it had multiple purposes. It was used as medicine to heal wounds or mixed with fragrant spices for hair and skin care. Apart from these practical uses, olive oil was also a symbol of blessing. Visitors to one’s home would have their feet washed and then have oil poured on their heads as a gesture of hospitality. And oil was used for the important purpose of anointing kings, priests, and prophets. In the Episcopal Church, we carry on this ancient tradition of using oil to anoint and bless. Every year during Holy Week, the Bishop blesses the oils for healing and anointing at what we call the Chrism Mass at the cathedral; chrism is the consecrated oil. This year, our parishioners Raja Reed and Jami Blakeley joined the Altar Guilds of St. Andrew’s and St. Paul’s to put the chrism into several vials for distribution to the churches in our diocese. The other image in the psalm is the dew of Hermon falling on the hills of Zion (Psalm 133: 3). Hermon was a mountain located some 125 miles north of Jerusalem and famous for its abundant dew. In a land that was dry throughout most of the year, the dew that fell during the night was an essential source of water. The dew, like the oil, represents what is good and pleasant, a blessing from God. And so, too, is brethren living in unity a blessing from God. It is the goal of our life together, as the family of God. We are called to live together in peace, unity, and harmony as sisters and brothers in Our Lord Jesus Christ. According to the great theologian and church father, St. Augustine, Psalm 133 provided the inspiration in the early church for the birth of monasteries, where monks, brothers in the faith, would strive to live together in unity. At the 8 o’clock service, Jan Brill, whom many of you know, reminded me of a joke that she had shared with me earlier. There was a monastery, where the monks took a vow of silence. The only exception was at Easter, when one monk would be allowed to express one thought. One Easter, a monk said, “I hate the food here.” The second year, another monk said, “The food is not bad.” The third year, a third monk said, “I’m out of here; I’m sick of all this conflict.” Interesting, this joke actually reflects a real situation we have here at St. Mary’s. Some of you have been to Conception Abbey. Raja, as well as Fr. Charles when he was here, hates the food there; I actually think it’s quite good, especially for dormitory food. So, what about us today? We do not live as monks and nuns in a cloister but out in the world. And whether at home or work, we fall short of the ideal of unity in our daily lives. Who is free from differences and conflicts with those whom we live and work? Even in our churches, unity is elusive. We are divided by theological, social, and political issues, as well as interpersonal tensions and conflicts. As you know, I study and teach religious history. And so much of the history of Christianity, as well as that of other religions, is the story of division and conflict. This goes back to the very origins of our faith. Think of the arguments among Jesus’ own disciples that we read about in the Gospels and the controversies that rocked the early church. Before I was ordained a priest, my clergy friends and mentors warned me how bad church politics could get. I didn’t believe them. I had been in academics a long time and had seen a lot of bad behavior – and I’m not talking about students. As those of you who have been education know all too well, academic politics can get pretty nasty, and I thought I had seen the worst. Well, I was wrong. I don’t know if church politics is any worse than academic politics, but, I have to say, I’ve been surprised. Perhaps, it’s because we have higher expectations for religious people, especially clergy. Or perhaps it’s just my naivete and ignorance. After all, the church, too, is an institution with hierarchies of power and authority. Why should it be any different? Resolving conflict and building unity is hard work. Unity doesn’t come naturally. At our school, for instance, we have detailed codes of conduct and civility. The church, too, has guidelines and regulations, as well as training for clergy and staff. And yet no amount of rules or training can entirely rid us of division and conflict in our lives. It seems to be human nature. But, fortunately, as people of faith, we are not left to our own devices. We place our hope in Jesus, the ultimate source of our unity. Indeed, it is only in Christ that we can ever hope of overcoming the selfish desires and interests that divide us and achieve the unity to which we are called. It is Christ’s presence within us that guides us and gives us the grace to transcend our divisions and conflicts. Moreover, we can experience the perfect unity that Christ offers us each time we come together for Holy Eucharist; it is the supreme blessing of unity from God. As we gather at the altar, kneeling side by side, we are able to lay down our divisions and conflicts, even if for a brief, sacred moment. We call this service Holy Communion, after all, because we share in common – “commune” with one another – the Bread and the Cup. In the words of the Apostle Paul: “The cup of blessing that we bless, is it not a sharing in the blood of Christ? The bread that we break, is it not a sharing in the body of Christ? Because there is one bread, we who are many are one body, for we all partake of the one bread” (I Corinthians 10:16-17). The ritual acts of sharing the One Bread and the Common Cup are not mere symbols of our unity. We believe that in the Blessed Sacrament, we truly unite with one another in Jesus Christ Our Lord as one mystical body. And the body includes not just us here physically present in the Nave at St. Mary’s but all the faithful throughout the world, as well as the citizens of heaven. Christ in His Sacrifice brings all his followers together in perfect unity as one body. So, dear sisters and brothers, come now to the Table of Our Lord. Let us gather as one family and share the Bread and the Wine in the Banquet prepared for us by Our Lord. For it is in the Mysteries of the Blessed Sacrament that we will receive a foretaste of the perfect and eternal peace and unity of that Heavenly City that awaits us. Sean C. Kim
St. Mary’s Episcopal Church Easter Sunday 31 March 2024 Last Sunday, Fr. Bob Hutcherson in his sermon quoted from the well-known spiritual, “Were You There When They Crucified My Lord?” And Fr. Bob led us to the cross of Jesus to stand with his mother, Mary, his disciple, John, and others who were gathered to be with Jesus in his last moments. We grieved and mourned his suffering and death. Today, we find ourselves in a different place – standing at the empty tomb. Today’s Gospel from Mark tells us that there were three women who went to Jesus’ tomb early in the morning carrying spices to anoint his body: Mary Magdalene; Mary, the mother of James; and Salome. To their shock and surprise, they encounter the empty tomb. Today, on this Easter Sunday morning, we join Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome in their witness of the Resurrection of Jesus. You may have heard Christianity referred to as a Resurrection faith or Easter faith. What happened that first Easter morning two thousand years ago is the foundation of our Christian faith. It is the reason we are here. It is the reason we worship. It is the reason we pray. It is the reason we love and serve one another. We are people of the Resurrection. Without the Resurrection, the movement that Jesus began would have ended in failure and shame with his death. It would have receded into obscurity, one of the many reform movements that rose and fell in Judaism. But Resurrection happened. And because of the Resurrection, the disciples who had fled and dispersed when Jesus was arrested and crucified came back together again to carry on Jesus’ mission to proclaim the Good News. The apostles dedicated and sacrificed their lives for the faith and established the early Christian communities. And from these apostolic foundations, the fledgling faith has grown into the world’s largest religion. Today, we are joined by 2.4 billion fellow Christians around the world as we stand together at the empty tomb and celebrate the Resurrection of Jesus Christ Our Lord and Savior. Because of the Resurrection, we need not fear the power of death. As followers of Jesus, we believe that this life is not all there is. The saddest moments of my job as priest are when beloved members of our parish pass away. This past year, we had funerals or memorial services for Tom Rinehart, Maria Iskenderoglu, Ron Wiseley, and, most recently, Dick Herndon. At these services, in the midst of our grief and sorrow, we expressed our conviction, so eloquently expressed in the words of our Prayer Book, that in death, life is changed, not ended. Life is changed, not ended. Yesterday, at the Great Vigil of Easter, we renewed our Baptismal Vows. One of the reasons we do that is because Baptism is inseparable from Resurrection. In the words of the Apostle Paul, we are buried with Jesus by baptism into his death, so that just as Christ was raised from the dead, we, too, might rise with him to newness of life (Romans 6:4-5). In the Sacrament of Baptism, our old selves die, and we rise to new life in union with Christ. Hence, our physical death only marks a transition in this new life in Christ, a transition that will lead us to see him face to face and be reunited with our loved ones who have gone before us. And while we are still on earth, we experience the new life in Christ every day, every hour. Our life is not the same when Jesus dwells in us, and we in him. As many of you know, my faith background is Presbyterian and Methodist. So, I grew up in the sober Protestant worship and piety of those traditions. But then when I went to college, I encountered the lively and vibrant music of Praise and Worship. And I’m going to show my age here – I was drawn, in particular, to the music of Bill and Gloria Gaither. Some of you may remember them. I mentioned the Gaither music recently to one of our younger parishioners from an evangelical background, and he pointed out that the Gaither music is pretty passé and that contemporary Christian music has gone well beyond it. Well, anyway, my first experience of it was new and refreshing. I love the traditional hymns, but the contemporary Christian music was different and also good. One of the first Gaither songs that I learned – and it’s still one of my favorites – is “Because He Lives.” I’d like to share a part of the song with you. God sent His son, they called Him, Jesus; He came to love, heal and forgive; He lived and died to buy my pardon, An empty grave is there to prove my Savior lives! Because He lives, I can face tomorrow, Because He lives, all fear is gone; Because I know He holds the future, And life is worth the living, Just because He lives! There’s a beautiful story associated with the song. Bill Gaither composed the music, and Gloria wrote the lyrics. At the time, they were a struggling young couple. Gloria was pregnant with their first child, Bill was ill, and they were facing economic hardship. In the midst of all the anxiety and stress, Gloria found peace and strength in her faith. This song is her testament. Dear sisters and brothers of the Easter faith, we sing today of our salvation and our new life in Jesus Christ Our Lord and Redeemer. He has conquered death and all the forces of evil that rage against us. He does not promise us an easy life, free of suffering and hardship. What he does promise is to be with us wherever we are. Christ’s presence fills us with the hope and strength to face whatever challenge may come our way. In our darkest moments, he will shed his light. In our most turbulent moments, he will grant us his peace. In our weakest moments, he will renew our strength. As Christ’s followers, we share in the victory and power of his Resurrection. Alleluia. Christ is risen. Sermon for the Great Vigil of Easter
St. Mary’s Church March 30, 2024 Romans 6:3-11 Mark 16:1-8 When the three women of Mark’s Easter story approached the empty tomb that first Easter sunrise, their hearts and souls were already empty. As a military chaplain I have accompanied another officer, or senior non-commissioned officer, both of us in uniform, while walking up someone’s sidewalk—sometimes even at sunrise—knowing that the person or persons in that house were about to have their lives changed forever. “I regret to inform you, that your son (or husband, or father) has been killed as a result of hostile action . . .” In an instant. Sometimes before anything is said, normalcy, confidence, hope, and even dreams vanish. A death always causes other deaths—not physical ones. The death of dreams. The death of hopes. The death of companionships. The death of some familiar social arrangements. The structures of our happiness are damaged: income, the place we live, the things we do that give us joy often suffer, the trust we had in life. Then there are the other “little deaths” that suck the breath out of our souls. They begin with words such as: “The cancer is stage four.” “Your brother has been arrested.” “The company has been sold.” “You no longer have employment here.” One minute before, life with its routines, plans, and expectations. Afterwards, heartbreak, worry, panic. That was the state of the hearts, minds, and souls of the three friends of Jesus that approached His tomb that morning. Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James, and Salome didn’t have their lives changed in an instant. They had watched in horror as the friend they had followed from back home in Galilee, who unlike other teachers and religious authorities of the day, had welcomed them, along with his other disciples and confidants, as he healed people and talked about the kingdom of God—had died in increments, their own hopes and dreams as battered and bludgeoned as his tortured body, until he was dead, and so were their hopes and dreams and trust in the power and providence of God. They had come to the tomb to give him a proper burial—to lovingly bathe and anoint his wounds and abrasions, out of their respect and love for him, and for their own need to do something. Because those who are dead don’t need their wounds attended to. It was something to do when there was nothing else they could do, and because their ministrations might push back a little against the pain and emptiness they felt inside themselves. They didn’t even know if they could do it! The tomb had been sealed with a huge stone—a boulder. More than these three women had the strength to move. In addition, maybe there would be soldiers of the Roman occupying army guarding the tomb, or religious Temple Police—because for reasons they couldn’t understand, their friend had been feared, and considered dangerous, by both the State and the Temple. But they kept going anyway. And surprise! There were no soldiers. And the stone had already been rolled away from the entrance! They hurried their pace, thoughts rushed through their heads, none of them comforting. Grave robbers?! The Authorities?! They wouldn’t leave him alone, even in death? Setting foot inside the tomb they saw a young man. He was wearing a white robe and looked out of place there. Maybe even out of place to be in their country at all, or any known country. He spoke to them. “Peace, Sisters. I know you have come to see the body of your friend, Jesus. I tell you, there is no body!” He gestures to a place on the floor where there are bloodstains and bloody burial wrappings. “He has been raised from death. Go! Tell the disciples! Tell Peter! Tell them he is on his way back to your neighborhood. Back to Galilee. There you will see him, just as he told you he would.” As Mark tells it, they ran as fast as they could out of the tomb. They weren’t rejoicing, either. They were terrified! Why? Up to that point there was still certainty in their worlds. A cynical certainty, but a certainty. When someone has died they are dead. Period. You can bet your own life on it. And when the Romans set about to put a person to death they got dead and stayed dead. No way he could still be alive, no matter what the mystery man said. Their last vestige of what anchored their lives in good sense and surety vanished along with their hope and dreams. It warped their minds and upset their psychic equilibrium. NOW, The death of Jesus was THE end of an era for them. The end of a golden time of community, love, and hope. An end to their dreams. The empty tomb and the news of a dead man who would be alive and waiting for them in their old haunts was the end of the world as they knew it! Natural law had been suspended. What next? Would the stars fall?! Things didn’t add up and their psychic moorings had parted. They could only flee in fear. They didn’t tell anyone what had happened, because how do you speak of the undecipherable? However, they ran from the undecipherable to what they hoped was the known and familiar. They kept running until they reached Galilee. Mark didn’t record that in his Gospel, but other Gospels record appearances by Jesus in Galilee to the remaining disciples(Matt. 28:16-17; John 21:1 ff)—and were not these women recognized as disciples also? Galilee was that which they knew, and had known, since they were children. It was everyday reality to them. However, as in the empty tomb, their encounter with their Risen Lord, scars and all, had to be anything but reality as they knew it. The old neighborhood looked the same, but the world had changed. Nothing was the same anymore. They knew that, no matter what was reported on the local channel out of Tiberius, the consequences of death were defeated and evil deeds no longer had the last word in the affairs of men. But in the meantime, they hung out with the Risen Jesus, in the old familiar places, and God was present in Him and with them. They stood astride earth and heaven, between the known and the unknown. It was their world, but it was not their world as usual anymore. The Easter story is not just about the Empty Tomb and God’s victory over death and evil. It is just as significantly about God instead being in Galilee, in human incarnation—in our shape and form. God did not resurrect Jesus from the dead just so that we could one day go to heaven, but also that we should have His presence with us in the midst of the life we have still to live. Galilee symbolizes our common everyday life, the places where we work and play, raise families, partner in marriages, and enjoy friendships. It is also a place of daily challenges, and the daily grind. I don’t know what has happened to most of the people I once tried to comfort after they had been given the worst possible news and felt their joy and their futures were sealed in a tomb. But the ones I know about, despite grief they will always carry, have found hope, new dreams, new relationships, and new joys in a life that goes on. Whether they know that or not, it is the work of God. God came to humanity to dwell among us as a Jewish carpenter named Jesus so that we may not only have life eternal, but also life that is shared with the Eternal, with God’s very self. God continues to dwell among us in the humanity of those we love and who love us, and even in fleeting contact with strangers in the midst of an ordinary day, and, in despite our “little deaths,” that sometimes aren’t so little, gives us courage, joy, insight and meaning. He will also appear to us in the faces of those who are poor, homeless, and, yes, even crazy, as He points out the situations and systems that neglect them. He heals, but He also interrupts, surprising us with his presence in unlikely or unexpected places, making something out of what we consider to be nothing. We find that what we consider to be disasters to be God’s opportunity to reveal His power and presence to us. He keeps appearing to us and offering Himself to us even when we have rejected Him in the past, worshipped other (usually secular) gods, and disappointed Him. It can be frightening to be loved like that by the God of the Universe, but it is true! As someone who often fails to notice the obvious, I offer a borrowed insight. Christians have seemed to worship on Sundays from the very beginning of their gathering as Christ followers. That was the day of the week in which Jesus was resurrected. In the sacred calendar they were raised in, the Jewish calendar, Saturday was the holy day. A day of rest. Sunday was the first day of the work week. So Jesus was raised on the day that everybody went back to work. The ordinary was sanctified by the extraordinary. Our Resurrected Lord did not meet his friends and followers at the Empty Tomb, but back home, back at work ----in Galilee. Where is your Galilee located? It is wherever home and neighborhood is for you when you leave tonight. On Monday it is at the keyboard, lathe, bedside, or shop. I suggest that, right now, for all of us, it is here; at 13th and Holmes. --The Rev. Larry A. Parrish March 30, 2024 Maundy Thursday
March 28, 2024 Sermon In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Welcome to the holiest of Thursday’s. Tonight, marks the beginning of the Easter Triduum, the most solemn and sacred time in the Christian liturgical year, where we suspend the ordinary routine of our lives to fully immerse ourselves in the meaning of the Incarnation. It is a three-day journey through the events that lead up to Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection, and each one of these days brings its own joy and sorrow. Last week, on Passion Sunday, we celebrated Jesus’ triumphant entry into Jerusalem with shouts of Hosanna and the waving of palms. For Jesus’ followers, this was a time of joyful recognition. It signaled the coming of their long-awaited Messiah who was going to restore the Kingdom of Israel and bring the Jewish people out from under the oppressive reign of Roman occupation. (Pause) But fast forward several days and the momentum shifts. As John sets the scene of the Last Supper, before Jesus departs from the world, he wants to leave his disciples with something to show the full extent of his love. He does this through the humble act of washing their feet. In Biblical custom, the act of foot washing was seen as the practice of hospitality. Sandals were the primary footwear, and the roads were dusty and, quite frankly, disgusting considering that livestock accompanied travelers wherever they went. It was considered a lowly task, and certainly not one befitting a Messiah. But to understand the meaning of the foot washing that took place in the Upper Room on this night, we must consider Jesus’ intimate knowledge and love of his Father. Throughout his ministry, Jesus is portrayed as willfully moving towards his crucifixion, aware that he would suffer an excruciating death... yet he was committed to fulfilling his mission as part of God’s plan for saving humankind. This was contrary to any notion the disciples had about how a Messiah behaves. So, imagine their bewilderment when Jesus began to remove his outer garments and knelt on the floor of the Upper Room and began to wash their feet. Tonight, they are about to learn the meaning of Jesus’ words when he said, “my children, I will be with you only a little longer. Where I am going, you cannot come”. The Gospels remind us that throughout his ministry, Jesus tried to forewarn his disciples of those things prophesied about his death, but in the Upper Room that night, Peter’s question, “Lord, where are you going?” reflects their confusion as well as their preconceived notions about who they thought the Messiah was. Clearly, in their limited understanding, their Messiah was more temporal than divine...more kingly than humble. But, it is on this night that Jesus, fully aware of his impending betrayal and death, demonstrates an extraordinary act of love and humility by washing his disciples' feet. What a shock to the disciples to see their Master posturing himself as a humble servant. We often refer to this day as Maundy Thursday. The word "Maundy" comes from the Latin word "Mandatum," meaning "command" or "mandate." When Jesus washed his disciple's feet, his call to love one another was not merely a suggestion, but a mandate that to be a part of him and the Father, we must show love to one another. It is so literally hard to love everyone, isn’t it? But it is what Jesus call us to do. Remember, that on this night, Jesus already knew Judas would betray him and that Peter would deny him, but he extended them both the same gesture of love. When Jesus offered to wash his disciples’ feet, it was so opposite to their way of thinking that some initially declined his offer. Foot washing required humility on the part of both parties: the one willing to wash another’s feet and the one willing to have their feet washed. Jesus was dispelling any notion of rank or caste among his disciples. Foot washing is an act of intimacy. When Jesus washed his disciples' feet, he did it because these were his beloved friends that had followed him and believed in him, and he desperately wanted them to get the message that they must love one another to thrive. It is a reality in our own lives that when we are met with sadness or tragedy it is love that helps sustain us during our grief. This is one of the messages that Jesus was trying to impart to his followers. He knew that his departure from this world would require a strong community of support and love amongst his disciples and followers. Jesus mandates us to love; but not only to love, but to love as Christ loves. And that does not involve feelings. More than a just a feeling or emotion, it is a choice. We can choose to accept Christ’s gift of love and share it with others, or we can choose to reject it, but this is the point of Jesus’ commandment...to be a part of Christ, we need to choose love. This new commandment to love one another is the mark of Christian discipleship. It is not merely a strategy for survival, but also a way to build and expand the community of faith. In a few minutes we will be inviting those who wish to come forward to participate in the foot washing. I don’t know about you, but I find this a difficult thing to do for several reasons. With very few exceptions, feet are not the most attractive parts of our bodies. Our feet, as we age, bear the signs of a lifetime of abuse. So, there is an element of shame in letting others see our feet, let alone wash them. It also brings a level of intimacy and closeness that is uncomfortable for some...i know it is for me. I remember the first time I had my feet washed, I was dreading the prospect. I was attending Maundy Thursday service at St. Augustine’s. I did not know the woman that was washing my feet, (pause) until she washed my feet. It is hard to explain the connection that happened between us, but the care with which she took to touch and wash and dry my feet, however uncomfortable it was for me, drew me close to this person. It helped me experience Christ’s love. It was her choice, and it was my choice that we should be linked to one another through this simple act, and I won’t forget her. As this evening presses on, we move from the Upper Room to the Garden of Gethsemane to the eventuality of Jesus’ death on the Cross. But let us linger in this holy space for just a little while as we embrace the full weight of what it means to give love and receive love through Christ, because we know what tomorrow brings. Amen. Funeral Sermon for Dick Herndon
June 22, 1930-March 13, 2024 In the closing chapter of Paul’s Letter to the Romans, which, can arguably be called one of the most influential writings in history, after the Gospels, he ends his theological tour de force by taking time to greet some of the people who had worked to establish and bring life to those early congregation, and to the movement called Christianity, itself. He writes: (Romans 16:1 ff.) “I commend to you our sister Phoebe, a deacon of the church at Cenchreae . . . Greet Prisca and Aquila, who work with me in Christ Jesus, and who risked their necks for my life . . .Greet my beloved Epaenetus, who was the first convert in Asia for Christ. Greet Mary, who has worked very hard among you. Greet Andronicus and Junia, . . . who were in prison with me . . .Greet Urbanus, our co-worker in Christ, and my beloved Stachys. . . Greet those workers in the Lord, Tryphaena and Tryphosa. Greet Rufus . . . and his mother—a mother to me also; . . . Greet Dick and Betty, coworkers in Christ, who contributed to the life, health, and joy of a congregation. OK. They didn’t live in the first century, and Paul didn’t thank them personally—then—I am certain he has had opportunity to do so face to face, after being on hand to welcome Betty back in 2015, and Dick about 10 days ago. But after hearing stories of this dynamic duo and their work at St. Mary’s I couldn’t help thinking of the individuals, both men and women, that St. Paul gave thanks for as “coworkers in Christ” for establishing a significant community of Christian in the early Church that has endured throughout the centuries since. Yes, this is Dick’s funeral, and we gather to give thanks to God for his life specifically, but there are some people we know, at least many of us, that can never be brought to mind without thinking of their spouse/partner in life and how their individual gifts complement each other, in which their marriage is more than a sum of their parts, and through which God blesses others. Dick and Betty were, in the words of one of the members here, “A Power Couple.” They met after Dick moved to Kansas City in 1956. She was working as a summer secretary for the Corp of Engineers when they met, fell in love, and stayed in love for the rest of their lives. Dick, still in love with Betty, missed her terribly after she had died. He grieved deeply. The two of them had different gifts and personalities, but worked together to make considerable contributions to the common good of any group of people they pitched their tent among. Two things that most often came up first in the stories I was told about them was The Reception –aka “Coffee Hour” –after the High Mass on Sunday, and the parties they threw at their home. Each involved food. Lots of food! The ”Coffee Hour” was not a coffee and cookies affair. They bought food, hauled it to the church, even when, in later years, neither of them could hardly walk, and prepared and served it. No paper plates and plastic ware. Rather, the church china and the silver tea set. The legacy of their ministry of a “more than Coffee Hour” here after High Mass lives on through the work of Raja and Sylvia and others who provide food, hands-on-help, and support, though we don’t use the china or the silver tea set anymore. Furthermore, they insisted on putting on the receptions following weddings and funerals here, and insisted that everyone who needed one got one, whether they were members or not. “No questions, no exceptions.” Their parties at home were similar. There was lots of food—“come hungry”—music (recorded and live), and lots of wine—and, both Episcopal and “Baptist” Punch. Everyone was made welcome. Dick gave as much as Betty gave in making these meals at church and home possible, though, as in everything they did, they maintained their unique personas. Betty was usually the person who organized, and Dick provided the “muscle.” Well, Dick can be credited with some of the organization, but as one person said, “Dick knew how to throw a party, but damned if he could cook!” As you will observe in my ongoing story-telling, though individuals in their own right, part of who each was was connected with the other. They were described by others as “a lovely, lovely, couple,” and “genuinely nice people.” With an emphasis on “genuine.” They were very involved with the life of St. Mary’s, and put a lot of “sweat equity” into St. Mary’s, but there were no strings attached it. They didn’t use their involvement and work as a lever to be in control, or to exercise power. They did what they did because they knew it needed to be done, and they truly appreciated the people they worked and served with in the parish. What about Dick as an individual? This might be the place to bring up the fact that Dick come across as cantankerous to people that didn’t know him, and to some who did. He wasn’t after power, but he did hold some strong opinions about what needed to be done and how to go about doing it. I hear that there were some lively Vestry meetings the times he served on the Vestry or Trustees! The thing is, the same people he butted heads with, still considered him to be a friend, and he them! Furthermore, his own clear vision of what needed to be done did not interfere with the fact that he was a person who was curious not only about how things worked, but also about people. He liked talking with others and learning who they were, and his curiosity about them was genuine, with no hidden agendas or false fronts. Maybe his strong opinions—and maybe even his genuineness-- were a result of this temperament and training as an engineer, a civil engineer. You can’t make decisions based on warm, fuzzy feelings when you are dealing with construction of any sort, and you can’t make assumptions! Early on, before he had any formal training as an engineer, he got employment with the Corps of Engineers, taking approved leave to get both and BS and a master’s degree in civil engineering. He worked for the Corps of Engineers for 43 years, using his brain, training, and experience to help plan, design and construct various “complicated buildings and flood control structures” including the Stockton Dam in Kansas. He continued his brain-hand abilities in repairing, improving, or shepherding the repair and improvement of, various parts of this building. He climbed into the structural stratosphere above the ceiling we see over our heads to evaluate needed roof repair, and constructed the box mounted over the organ for the pipes we see there. He helped renovate the old kitchen, both the demolition and rebuilding of it. Likewise the Parish Hall. These were times that Betty contributed the “muscle”, too! And maybe one of the few occasions that Dick told Betty what to do! He built the “forever home” of Betty and his at 6400 Bennington, a “Mid-Century Modern” house, that sat on a generous piece of property on which the fed “every feral creature that showed up,” among those, of course, the cats they fed and cared for and tried to find homes for (Bonnie Haupt being the recipient of one which was named “Herndon” after its benefactor.) He not only built the house, he insisted on doing all of the repairs himself, until he was no longer able to do so. Also, at age 72, he began the building of a his “dream cabin” on family property in rural Missouri. It was a simple A-frame structure, and it is no surprise to learn that he overbuilt its structure such that other people in his family said that it would continue to stand even if the rest of civilization and its structures was wiped out! The family members also said that “he was an engineer, not an architect.” He never finished it, and when family members eventually finished out the cabin, they found that the doorways in it were not in-plumb enough to fit the doors they tried to place! Well, this is not a eulogy, it’s a sermon, and its time to think about how God fit into Dick’s life and into his life together with Betty. You see, God isn’t “watching us from a distance” as a popular song once refrained. Starting with his hands in the dirt of a million stars and the world we now live in, and taking his time (A billion years? An infinity of years?) to do it, God fashioned a habitable planet and people and animals to live in it, and flowers and trees to adorn it and make it breathable, and then creating a people who would walk with Him, in a manner of speaking, and tell stories about Him. He also gave those people some rules to provide a structure for a more peaceful and prosperous, or at least not self-destructive, society. He raised up kings and prophets to try to maintain and improve this world and its inhabitants, with mixed degrees of success. I would say that God was the first Civil Engineer. As Dick designed and constructed dams in concrete, so the “concrete” that God works with is people and events in history. Quite an act of engineering! Especially since people created with free will aren’t as predictable as concrete and steel! You see, we are made in God’s image—and I certainly don’t mean that we look like God, or God has two hands and two feet, etc., though we talk about Him that way because we don’t have any other way of trying to describe the indescribable. The urge to create. The love of beauty. The love of others. The desire to care for the earth and its creatures. Those are some of the ways that we reflect the image of God. Unfortunately, God gifted us with the world he made and we broke it because people are always forgetting Whose image they are made in. But He doesn’t give up. He keeps repairing old structures and creating new ones. Dick’s vocation as a civil engineer is one way that God showed up in Dick Herndon. However, God also showed up in Dick, and Betty’s, commitment to generously provide a feast for others, at church coffee hours, receptions, and their parties at home. For the Bible attests to the radical generosity of God, one hallmark being the God-provided and God-promised feasts described in the Biblical narratives. Feasts you can read about in the book of Genesis in the stories of Abraham and in the promises of God through the prophets, especially Isaiah and Jeremiah; and in David’s feeding his guerilla soldiers with the sacred bread of the tabernacle, an action God apparently approved of. And remember how Jesus would eat and drink with anyone, from rich tax collectors to sinners and outcasts, and how Jesus got into trouble for sharing food with these strangers to the religious establishment. Remember, too, our Lord’s feeding of the multitudes (two different times) with only a few fish and a few loaves of bread, and how there were generous portions left over after everyone who had their fill. And the Last Supper he shared with his disciples, the prototype of the Christian Mass, on the night He was betrayed, and the breakfast he prepared on the shores of Lake Galilee following His Resurrection. All of that feeding and feasting symbolized the generosity of God’s love and grace for all people. “No questions, and no exceptions!” God’s generosity likewise showed up in Dick and Betty’s feeding and caring for and their care for the feral animals that visited their property. God’s care for his creation and creatures. God also showed up in Dick’s love of beauty, and the artwork he and Debbie adorned the walls of their home with. Because God is the author of beauty. God showed up in Dick’s genuine curiosity towards others, because God values the uniqueness of each and every one of us, even if the curiosity comes from a broken heart: “Why did they do that to themselves? Or to other people? Why won’t they trust me?” The bottom line is that God not only shows up in the beauty and the complexity, and sometimes the awesome terror, of nature and history, but also through each one of us. Once upon a time, when He didn’t seem to be getting through to people through kings, and laws and prophets, he came and walked around with us in our shape and form as Jesus. And when he was killed by those who wanted to be him but didn’t know how and didn’t want to learn, he walked out of His tomb, defeated death—but not dying—and made it possible for Him to “live in us, and we in Him.” So that Dick and Betty being in our midst here at St. Mary’s and creating a legacy that those of us who inhabit this place and this parish enjoy yet today is not a happy coincidence, but God actively at work in our midst to complete some good Work of His in the ever-ongoing life of this church and parish. He is doing it through you (in your own special places He calls you into—or throws you into!) and through me. Perhaps we should ask, as part of our prayers, for Him to give us the gift of attention to that. Especially as we move into an unknown future as a church. As for now, not only will he and Betty’s ashes rest in our midst, so the things they did while active here will carry on in ways unknown in our ongoing life as St. Mary’s Episcopal Church. In the meantime, Dick can now rest from his labors in this life, and enjoy his reunion with Betty and other people special to Him, and to engage in conversations with people he never had a chance to meet in this life. We will someday be part of those conversations, too! In the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen. --The Rev. Larry A. Parrish Sermon for 5 Lent B
March 17, 2024 Jeremiah 31:31-34 Psalm 51:1-13 Hebrews 5:5-10 John 12:20-33 St. Paul, in his first letter to the folks of the early Church at Corinth spoke an uncomfortable truth that I would guess resonates with most of us. He said: “For Jews demand signs and Greeks desire wisdom, but we proclaim Christ crucified, a stumbling block to Jews and foolishness to Gentiles . . .” 1 Corinthians 1:22-23 He intended those words for us here at 17th and Holmes, as well. But! But! We aren’t Jews! We’re Christians! And we aren’t Greeks, either! Well, to state what I assume you well know is the obvious –Duh!—St. Paul wasn’t speaking critically about Jews or Greeks as far as what they professed “religiously”, but as to how they defended the truth and/or arrived at the truth of what they considered to be sacred or meaningful to their worldviews. “Jews” were those people who were comfortable with “signs,” stories and symbols tied in with historical events, and preserved traditions associated with those events. “Greeks” were those who were pragmatic thinkers, who needed logic and reason (is there a difference?) to figure out what was “true” and why it mattered. So of those of us gathered this morning (like those in John’s Gospel this morning) to “See Jesus”, some of us are Jews and some of us are Greeks, even if some of us Greeks barely passed “Intro to Philosophy” in college or were never “introed “ at all. In other words, we are like the early Christians that Paul addressed in his letters, and John addressed in his Gospel. But we are all befuddled, or have spent time being befuddled, as well as horrified, at the Crucifixion of Jesus. The Cross is a physical and an intellectual fixture of Christian worship and teaching at any time, but it is especially so during Lent. During this season of the church year, the Cross looms large over us, and we avert our gaze to our spiritual poverty, for to not grapple with our minds and hearts with it is to impair our joy in the celebration of the Resurrection Day of Easter, and to risk reducing the Empty Tomb to sentimentality. Many who claim to practice the Christian faith have averted their eyes and tried to put the Cross not only out of sight, but out of mind, too. Today there are many worship spaces across the spectrum of Progressive to Evangelical denominations that lack any hint of a Cross on wall or table. And many who have adopted so-called “Christian Nationalism” have replaced it with the American flag! The Cross is too messy, too illogical, too upsetting, too confrontative of both church, state, and the way the world does business, for many people to want to deal with. We just want to “welcome you, praise God with you, salute the flag with you,” not wrestle with the question of “why did Jesus have to die?”, and die such an agonizing death? I admit that I have been one of those people. I would rather preach on the Manger rather than the Cross, which is why I am glad the lectionary doesn’t leave me to my own preferences! From my childhood on, I have struggled with the concept of why Jesus had to die, and to die SUCH a death. In the fundamentalist view of the church of my childhood, Jesus was presented as a special person in history, who did wondrous things, and loved children, but was also God’s son that God had killed on a Roman cross because I and everybody else at worship were deserving of death at God’s hands ourselves. What??? God “hated” our sin so much, that we deserved to die and go to Hell, but God loved us so much that he sent his “only Son” to die a terrible death in our place. What??? And all we had to do was “believe in Jesus” or “invite Jesus into our heart”, and we would go to heaven. If we didn’t, we would go to Hell—maybe even that very night—which seemed to me a terrible price for God and His son, Jesus, to pay for a mission that was less than 100% successful! It didn’t make sense to a boy of 10 and I have gone on to find better answers in the deep traditions and thinking of the Christian Church. I’m certain that many of you sitting here this morning have had a similar faith journey and have been helped, if not downright rescued, by exposure to deeper meanings from Scripture and Christian theology and tradition. For instance, the bold statement by St. Paul just noted that “GOD was in Christ, reconciling the world to Himself.” God didn’t send a Son, an entity different than Godself. God the Father was also the Son and through the agency of His Holy Spirit, was Himself and the Human Jesus who died on the Cross. These building blocks of Christian theology, the Incarnation, and the Trinity, are the reason I am still a Christian. The writings in the New Testament especially the letters of St. Paul, and the Gospel of St. John the Evangelist, explore, and expand on, the meaning of the intentional self-sacrificial suffering of God, and it is preached about often in this place, AND its story is embedded in our worship, in the Mass, every time it is celebrated here. There is some “old preacher” wisdom that says to never preach on the genealogical lists of the Bible, and to avoid preaching on the Letter to the Hebrews. But fools rush in! I want to take the opportunity given by the Epistle reading today, The Letter of Paul to the Hebrews, to point out an approach to God’s sacrifice of self and Son that is unique within the Bible. The author, whether Paul or not, was probably writing to a church that had many converts from Judaism within the congregation. It seems to be a church that was discouraged, maybe in danger of disbanding, and the author uses concepts familiar to its congregation to lift it out of despair and/or apathy using words and imagination. The writer, or Preacher, if you will, uses imagery of Jewish temple worship to make the case for the cross. He speaks in terms that are familiar to those who are steeped in the stories and theology of ancient Israel, as found in the writings of the First Testament. i.e., He used Jewish narrative to form a Christian narrative, without denigrating the Jewish narrative. This is my attempt to put this background in a nutshell: First of all, ancient Jewish worship was centered on a purpose-built place: First, a mobile worship place called The Tabernacle, that later on became a “brick and mortar” building known as The Temple. In both was a special table: an altar. The Tabernacle/Temple was staffed by priests, people whose job was to maintain the Temple and its worship and cultic activities. They were go-betweens. Basically they were ordinary people who had the extraordinary job of representing the Temple worshippers before God, by seeing that sacrifices would be made, for the people, using the altar as the portal to God. As priests, their function was to point to God, the one God, the God of the Hebrews, and their function was very important because to point to this God, in a world where there were many Gods, was a matter of life, sanity, and their survival as a people, because this God gave them rules for order in the midst of shot- in-the-dark chaos. He also gave them assurances that He wasn’t a capricious and cruel God that wanted to be appeased, like the “small g” gods of their neighbors. Yes, he could be angered, but when their actions kept them from the blessings He would give them, or if they decided that they liked the little g gods better. The articles of Jewish law and the practices of Jewish ritual were not superstitious pagan mumblings or the sacred practices of un-enlightened people. Responsibility towards their neighbors, faithfulness to a God who cared, constant evaluation of their actions, and an effort to live a life that rose distinctly above the primitive and destructive lifestyles of other cultures they rubbed shoulders with, were hallmarks of their religious tradition. These practices were spelled out in the sacred writings of the Torah, and symbolized by the workings of sacred worship centered in gifts brought to God and laid on the altar before Him. These were composed of thank offerings of a symbolic portion of their crops and sin offerings of living creatures, mostly bulls and goats. (Lambs were in a special category and I don’t want to get into that now!) These sin offerings involved spilling the blood of the offered animals onto the altar, and then they would be subsequently burned. To them, a blood offering was using a valued life source as a way of offering the most precious thing they could imagine, not to appease God, but to acknowledge that they were aware of how they had failed to keep up their end of living a life that honored God, their neighbors, and their “better angels” (to use a modern term), and to seek to recover, or keep intact, they covenant their God had with them. The priests, especially the high priest, that made this worship work were not perfect, and most of them acknowledged that, offering their own sin offerings. (Although, the Bible tells stories of priests that took advantage of the system, tried to game it for their own prestige and power, and even put their stamp of approval upon pagan ways, twisted the teachings of their tradition, and served the purposes of ungodly kings. Surely that wouldn’t happen today would it? –smile--). Priests did not become priests because they thought it would be cool. They were appointed by God or from families of priests and priest-apprentices appointed by God. This was especially true of the High Priest, whose job it was to make the sin offering on the altar, which was in the “Holy of Holies”, the innermost interior of the Temple. They, as well as the people, were not terrified by God, but they didn’t take God lightly, either. When the early Christians read about these things in the only Scripture they had—the Jewish Scriptures—which has become our Old Testament, they were struggling to make sense of the crucifixion of Jesus, and it was easy to see in the sin sacrifices, the blood sacrifices, a prototype (or is that archetype?) of the spilling of Jesus’ life blood on the Cross. There is some question in my own mind whether or not that clarified the meaning of the crucifixion or muddied the waters, but it has considerable standing in Christian theology. Still, most of Christian tradition has moved away from the concept of Jesus taking our punishment, without de-emphasizing that he died for our sakes. In the case of The Book of Hebrews, the author uses the motifs of Jewish Temple worship, especially the altar and the actions of the High Priest to make sense of the actions of Jesus on the Cross. It does not downplay or condemn these practices, but instead uses them to point beyond themselves to a new understanding of God and Jesus. In the Book of Hebrews, Jesus is not the sacrifice, He is the ultimate High Priest offering the Sacrifice. Furthermore, He was appointed by God only, not by human authority or family connections. Jesus is the ultimate go-between God and ourselves. That which he offers to God is our lives, warts and all, which he has gathered up as the incarnate Son, or Person, of God becoming fully human has experienced everything we could ever experience in our human lives, including betrayal, failure, and a painful and unfair death, whether a state execution or an attack from our bodily cells. In the context of the Trinity, the ongoing relationship among the Father, the Son, and The Holy Spirit, God Himself not only experienced the death of His Son within a human body, but also experienced the excruciating loss of His “only Son”. In Hebrews God offers Himself to the world as he comes into the world and into humanity as Jesus, enjoys human life, suffers human death, and in the process, as priest takes His oneness in and understanding of all humanity and offers, then brings it back to God. Jesus is not just a sacrificial entity, he is both altar and priest. And we are evermore held in this downward and upward arc of His divine priesthood. As we continue our Mass this morning, consider the actions at the altar, in the pew, in the choir, and the keyboard of the organ, to be actions that re-enact, or at least point to, the ongoing action of God in Christ reconciling us to Himself, and sharing his love and strength with us. We are not sinners in the hand of an angry God, at least not a vindictive One. We are part of a great enterprise in which God decided to encourage His people by taking on human life and the worst that it could endure, so that he might break the power of death, and change their hearts and lives from the inside out. It wasn’t a one-off action. It continues in the Holy of Holies which is the connection of Heaven and Earth, the very heart of the Trinity in which God dwells and we with Him. In the name of the Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen. --The Rev. Larry A. Parrish, St. Mary ‘s Episcopal Church, March 17, 2024 |
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To the Glory of God and in honor of the Blessed Virgin Mary
St. Mary's is a parish of the Diocese of West Missouri, The Episcopal Church, and the Anglican Communion.
Address1307 Holmes Street
Kansas City, Missouri 64106 |
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