The Body of Christ

by The Rev. Dr. John D. Lane

This sermon is based on 1 Corinthians 12:27.

Now you are the body of Christ and individually members of it.

According to Tim Shriver, head of the Special Olympics, “Spirituality is about ‘me. Religion is about ‘we’.” Consider today’s passage from the1^st Epistle to the Corinthians. Paul writes:

For just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ. For in the one Spirit we were all baptized into one body–Jews or Greeks, slaves or free–and we were all made to drink of one Spirit. Indeed, the body does not consist of one member but of many. (1Cor 12:12-14)

Paul was writing in a very different time, when religion was an important part of everyone’s life. In different ways and to varying degrees, everyone was religious. Paul himself is astounded at the variety of religious expression he finds when he visits Athens, with temples and statues dedicated to all kinds of gods. According to Luke in Acts, Paul preaches to the Athenians as follows: “Athenians, I see how extremely religious you are in every way. For as I went through the city and looked carefully at the objects of your worship, I found among them an altar with the inscription, ‘To an unknown god.’” (Acts 17:22-23) The Athenians covered all their bases.

“I’m spiritual but not religious” is often a shorthand statement for not going to church. It is quite possible to be spiritual without being religious. And it is just as possible to be religious without being spiritual. One Trinity member was heard to say that a certain former rector–could have been me, I suppose–was a man who made him feel spiritual–by comparison!

I’ve worshiped in church virtually every Sunday of my life.; for 35 years, 2-3 times per Sunday. Yet there have been many periods when I didn’t feel spiritual. There were times when I didn’t read the Bible regularly, sometimes forgot to pray, and didn’t do much beyond worship to connect with God. As a mentor of mine once told me, “There’s a difference between leading worship and worshiping”, so I wasn’t even getting as much out of worship as I might in the pew. Even clergy not spiritual? Think of this as my Lance Armstrong moment. But, to continue in the same vein as Lance, I’m no different from everyone else.

Though one can be spiritual and not attend church, avoiding church is not the fastest route to holiness. As an Episcopalian, I believe in the middle way. As a Libra–if that means anything at all–I believe in balance. The Christian ideal is a combination, a balance of religion and spirituality. As Tim Shriver put it, “Spirituality is about ‘me. Religion is about ‘we’.” Though Shriver is correct, we can go on to say both spirituality and religion are important, both are vital components of a life well-lived.

Assuming those who say they are spiritual but not religious are in the minority here today, I want to talk about the role of spirituality in our lives. First, many of us live very busy lives. It is hard to relax. It is hard to find time to pray. One thing I have done for years, even in my times of worst spiritual neglect, is pray when I’m alone in the car, If you’re used to closing your eyes when you pray, make an exception when you’re behind the wheel. As Christians, we are obligated to pray for the church and the world. What better time to pray for the world than when we are out there, seeing all kinds of people in all kinds of circumstances.

Driving through downtown Staunton, we are easily reminded to pray for the emotionally and physically disabled. We can also pray for school children, government employees, business owners and their workers, police and fire fighters, the unemployed, immigrants, and the poor. I also pray when I walk. Since I retired, I do a lot of walking, mostly on the street. When the weather is bad I get on one of the machines at the Y. I usually take a book, but I take breaks occasionally between chapters and I do close my eyes and pray. It’s not as dangerous on the elliptical machine as it is while driving.

Most Monday evenings, Bizzy and I attend Mindfulness Meditation over in the Foster Room. We sit for an hour in directed meditation. Just last week, I was in a state of agitation as I drove down here, but I felt very much refreshed by the time I left. My burdens had been lifted by concentrating on being in the midst of silence. We’re supposed to meditate for 20 minutes each day at home, but Bizzy’s better at remembering this than I am. It’s also possible to pray when you can’t get to sleep or when you wake up in the middle of the night. In church we do emphasize the Episcopal calisthenics of sit, stand, and kneel, but at home lying down is a perfectly acceptable spiritual position.

Volunteering your time for outreach certainly feeds your spirituality. It’s impossible to go on a mission trip to Honduras or Haiti, serve Noon Lunch, work on a Habitat house, help out at the free clinic without finding yourself, often quite unexpectedly, closer to God.

Now you are the body of Christ and individually members of it.

Our spiritual moments feed our souls and leave us with more to give as members of the body of Christ, and this is important. It is also important to be religious, like each of you, to be here this morning. When we recite the Nicene Creed, we say “We believe,” not I believe. When we join in the Lord’s Prayer, it’s “Our Father,” not my Father.

We are each individuals, but gathering here on Sunday morning we are concerned with our collective life as Christians. It helps me as a Christian to be able to look across the aisle or look out from up here and see others who have got it together better than I have. I think of those who had the vision to establish and build this church–including my sainted predecessor Walter Hullihen who inspired some members of the congregation to go out and found Emmanuel Church, just to get away from him.

I look out at those who can sing and inspire us. I look out at those who teach our children and teach us. I remember Joan Bender, a woman who was in charge of recruiting Sunday school teachers at Holy Comforter-Charlotte back in the 70's. She asked one woman if she would be willing to teach 5^th grade for the coming year, and the woman said, “It’s just not my thing.” “Well,” replied Joan, “cleaning the bathroom isn’t my thing, but somebody’s got to do.” She told me she was shocked when the woman said, “I understand. I’ll do it.”

I look out at those who tend to our buildings and our grounds. I look out at those who raise and manage money. I look out at those who greet visitors every week, whether they are assigned this task or not. I look out at those who prepare and tend the altar. I look out at those whose wonderful contribution is just to be here every single week, praying on behalf of us all.

We’ve all been through tough times, and it is very nice to know that the members of this church are holding us up in prayer, bringing us food when we’re down and out, visiting us when we’re sick or grieving. Our family was blown away by the visits and food and cards we received when our son Andrew died. It buoyed us up more than you’ll ever know–unless you’ve had the same experience.

I’d like each of us to be able to say “I’m spiritual and I’m religious.” This is to understand the gospel and the words of Saint Paul: “Now you are the body of Christ and individually members of it.”

Saint Teresa of Avila wrote:

Christ has no body but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
Compassion on this world,
Yours are the feet with which he walks to do good,
Yours are the hands, with which he blesses all the world.
Yours are the hands, yours are the feet,
Yours are the eyes, you are his body.
Christ has no body now but yours,
No hands, no feet on earth but yours,
Yours are the eyes with which he looks
compassion on this world.
Christ has no body now on earth but yours.

Amen.

The Bishop’s Address to Council 2013

Every year Bishop Powell makes an address to the Annual Diocesan Council gathered at Roanoke, and provides the text of his address to be read or made available in all the parishes of the diocese. On this day, in addition to the regular sermon preached at Trinity, we offer the Bishop's Address for your reflection.

The theme for this Council is “To every thing there is a season.” It has been a good year in all its seasons. The diocese is in a good place. The ordinariness of life as a bishop continues to be life-giving, especially the weekly rhythm of the visitations with the Eucharists, baptisms, and confirmations, punctuated by special events like ordinations and Annual Council.

Thank you for the mini-sabbatical last winter and spring, which gave me time to work on writing down some of my “stock sermons” and Bible stories in Oregon on the beautiful and restful Siuslaw River. The few weeks also allowed me to spend Holy Week and Easter in the Diocese of Bradford, drinking from the water of faith in that most beautiful and faith-filled Christian Community.

Throughout The Episcopal Church, and among virtually all denominations, the time span from 2000 to 2010 was a most difficult one in terms of membership and Sunday attendance. Our diocese did not escape this trend. Average Sunday Attendance (ASA) figures show an average loss of 2% a year during that decade. The surprise was that our loss was not nearly as great as the majority of other dioceses in our Province or in The Episcopal Church as a whole, an amazing steadiness in the face of declining population in towns throughout most of our diocese.

The good news is that this decade is starting out to be much better, much stronger. The most recent report available shows a remarkable 3.4% increase in our church attendance from 2010 to 2011. Well done, Diocese of Southwestern Virginia.

Numbers are not everything, and churches have to attract new members just to stay even to replace those who relocate or die or just move on. As a diocese, some years we go down a little, some years we stay the same, and from time to time we have a year of growth. This pattern is heroic when considered against the backdrop of the vast cultural and generational changes of the past fifty years. Some of our towns are literally disappearing as populations shift. A year of growth, even if it is just one, is a reminder of the promise that, in the end, God will win.

Moving beyond figures, as this is my last Council address I continue to reflect on these past sixteen years as your bishop. I have remained constant and faithful to my conviction that life in Christ and ministry in Christ begins with baptism. Baptism has been the theme of my episcopate, beginning with my ordination and consecration in Burruss Auditorium October 26, 1996. The cross at that ordination and consecration (which hangs behind me today) has a shell on it to remind us of our baptisms. The themes of many of our Councils have been taken from the promises we make at baptism. The workshops at Council are shaped around the promises of the Baptismal Covenant.

For sixteen years I have held up the value of healthy and wholesome clergy, lay leaders, and congregations; healthy and wholesome so that we may carry out the promises we make at baptism and serve the world in the name of the risen Christ.

Seamlessness is another value I continue to uphold, in particular the seamlessness of youngest to oldest; life together in Christ from birth, through baptism, through confirmation, and through lives lived in faith, until we are called Home. I have noticed references to seamless ministry seeping into our common language in the diocese.  

And, of course, prayer. There is no such thing as a Christian alone, there is no such thing as a congregation alone; we are all baptized into the body of Christ, and we uphold each other in our lives in Christ with prayer. One of the great surprises to me upon becoming your bishop was the awareness that I am prayed for at every Eucharist in this diocese. It is a humbling and uplifting experience.

We have had a number of additions to our life together these past sixteen years, programs that used to be new but are now part of the landscape:

Spring and Fall Clergy Days to strengthen the community of clergy.
Clergy and Spouses Lenten Quiet Days to strengthen our spiritual lives, and a morning before Council meeting to strengthen fellowship and our ministries together.
Wardens’ Days and Treasurers’ Days to enhance the ministry of wardens and treasurers and to build community among our parish leaders.
Deacons to insure and enable us to carry out the promises we make at baptism to seek and serve Christ in all persons and to strive for justice and peace among all people. Vocational deacons as a separate and equal order in this diocese began with two deacons who came to us from other dioceses. Adding to that, eight new deacons have been locally formed and ordained, and two more are in the process.
The Legacy Society to fund future ministry in our congregations, in the diocese, and in our institutions is now well established.

We have strengthened and deepened the formation program for persons locally trained for the priesthood, and access for those bound for seminary was opened up to young adults. Over half of those entering three-year residential seminary formation from this diocese are under age thirty.

Annual Council is the icon, the lens, and the vessel where these values and goals have all come together. Council is family reunion, business, worship, celebration, singing, and Christian leadership, and spiritual formation all wrapped into one great package. We added Children at Council from our youngest through grade five. We have greatly expanded Youth at Council for those in sixth grade through high school. We added Saturday at Council workshops.  There is a modest and growing presence of young adults and college students at Council, growing out of Youth at Council. We have the finest Annual Council or Convention in The Episcopal Church.  

Likewise, we have the finest diocesan youth program in The Episcopal Church. To the already existing program here sixteen years ago we made the youth minister position full-time and hired top-flight professionals to lead it. Over the years we added Spring and Fall Youth Events, then Mass on the Mountain; and most recently Happening was brought into the diocese. Much of this work was accomplished due to the creation of a vibrant Youth Ministry Team and the offering of training and support directly to local congregations. You can be proud of youth work in The Diocese of Southwestern Virginia.

There are growing edges and challenges facing us. Changing demographics means a growing Latino/Hispanic presence in our midst. We have the teeniest, tiniest, mustard-seed-size Latino/Hispanic ministry beginning in the diocese. We need to nurture that seed. God is giving us a gift by sending Hispanic and Latino people to live among us. We believe passionately in the motto “The Episcopal Church Welcomes You.” May these newcomers among us experience that love and that welcome. With God’s help we can do it.

I mentioned young adults earlier. In addition to those bonded to the church through the youth programs, young adults have had their faith nourished through the Canterbury programs at our colleges and universities. Let us continue to welcome them among us as the church of today while they are in their twenties. We can do it.

Networking and new models of ministry have been hallmarks of the diocese from our earliest days, clear back to the deaconesses, to the yoking and clustering of congregations, to clergy teams, total ministry teams, and areas of cooperation in ministry. Much of this creative approach comes from a history of what we have now termed a “household of congregations.” The Search and Nominating Committee for the new bishop noted in the diocesan profile that we are a family-sized diocese with much of which to be proud.

We are now in the midst of preparing for a new season in our diocese. As the Fifth Bishop of Southwestern Virginia I look forward to helping to elect, ordain, and consecrate the Sixth Bishop of Southwestern Virginia. The members of the Search and Nominating Committee and the Transition Committee have worked prayerfully and hard. They have reported to us how enthusiastic and inspired all of the candidates are by the life and vitality of this diocese. You have five fine men and women to choose among. I trust that, with God’s help, we will choose wisely and prayerfully.

Now, my final words of advice.  Do not forget:

1. Pray.  Before, during, and after all that you do, pray.
2. Build on your strengths and celebrate the victories.

3. In all things give thanks to God.  
4. Know that ministry begins with baptism, and the vows we make at baptism form the outline of our life.
5. Remember that we are all in this boat together. When one part of the body suffers, we all suffer. When one part of the body rejoices, we all rejoice.
6. Fear not. Be not afraid. For God loves you more than you can ask or even begin to imagine. And, I have peeked at the end of The Good Book. God wins. God will prevail.

Amen.

Don't Drink the Water

by The Rev. Paul S. Nancarrow

This sermon is based on John 2:1-11. Click here to listen to an audio version.

It's good to be home! I must say I feel a little like "the flying rector" — last Sunday gone to Honduras, here today, next Sunday gone to Diocesan Council — but after that, I promise, there'll be a good long stretch of Sundays when I'll be home. And it is good to be home.

One of the first things I enjoyed about being home, when Lee and I got back to the Rectory just after midnight on Thursday, was getting ready for bed and brushing my teeth with tap water. I know it seems silly to fixate on such minor details, but being able to use the tap water after a week of doing everything in a cup felt like an enormous luxury. You see, when we are in Copan, we have to be very careful about eating and drinking local stuff. The water in Copan is pretty clean by global standards; but even clean water has some microorganisms living in it; and the microorganisms there are different from the microorganisms here; and since our bodies are not accustomed to them, the microorganisms there can make us pretty sick. Any of you who have travelled in the third world know what I am talking about. So when we are in Copan we have to make sure we do everything with bottled purified water. We lug big bottles of agua purificado up to the worksite; we only eat at restaurants that use purified water for cooking and washing up; the hotel provides a water cooler from which we get pitchers of purified water for all our needs inside our rooms. We don't even eat fruit from a streetside seller that might have been washed in local water, because the risk of getting sick is just too great. And that's why, at the end of the workday, sitting around the pool at the hotel, we would relax with a nice cold beer: because the beer comes in bottles, and we know that it is pure. (Okay, that was one of the reasons we'd end the day with a beer...)

It occurred to me one day that drinking beer because the water wasn't safe was actually something that put us in touch with a way of life in the ancient world. Archaeologists have found that the ancient Sumerians and ancient Egyptians brewed tremendous quantities of beer, because the water wasn't safe, and brewing the water into beer purified it enough to make it drinkable. In ancient Israel they preferred wine over beer; but for them the principal was the same: the alcohol in the wine would kill the germs, and that would make it safe to drink. In fact, it was common practice to mix wine and water: ancient wine was very strong, and not very pleasant tasting, not like the more delectable wines developed in modern times; so in the ancient world, you mixed wine and water because the water made wine less nasty, and the wine made the water less dangerous. Being careful with our water in Copan made me appreciate more practically a fact I knew about the history of the ancient world.

And that experience in Copan made me read our Gospel passage today with an understanding I've not had before. Having had to remind myself not to drink the water made me appreciate more what was at stake when Jesus turned the water into wine.

For years, I have taught and preached that, of all the miracles of Jesus, this is the one miracle Jesus does just for the joy of it. In the wine miracle, no one's health is at stake, no one's life is on the line, no one is possessed by demons, no one is endangered by a storm, no one's being is at risk — the wine miracle is the one miracle Jesus does for no other reason than to show forth the joyous abundance of God's love. That's what I have taught about this miracle story for years.

I was wrong.

People's health is at stake in this story, because the water Jesus told the servants to put in those six stone jars was iffy at best, dangerous at worst, in any case a risk to drink — and if the party had gone on under those circumstances, every single guest would have been endangered, every single guest stood a chance of getting sick. When Jesus changed that water into wine, he was in fact keeping everyone at that wedding in good health. This miracle is not just about abundant joy, but it is very much about health and well-being and getting saved from sickness. Being in Copan has helped me see that now.

And of course the really wonderful thing about this story is that the bodily concern for not getting sick and the spiritual revelation of joyous abundance are not two separate things. I mean, no one was forcing the people to drink that water. If the wine ran out, and the water wasn’t safe, the bride and groom could have simply declared the party over and sent everybody home. It would have been embarrassing, yes, but it wouldn’t have been the end of the world. When Jesus changed the water into wine, he did it so the party could continue, he did it so the fellowship and the hospitality and conviviality could go on, and could grow, and could become in the minds and hearts of the guests more than just a party, but could become a sign, an outward and visible signification of the goodness and generosity and abundant joy of the Kingdom of God. After all, using a wedding feast as a symbol of God’s Reign was an old tradition in Jewish thought — we see it in our first reading today — and by allowing the feast to go on without anyone getting sick, Jesus gave the people not just idea of the symbol in their minds, but the experience of the symbol in themselves. By allowing the feast to go on without anyone getting sick, Jesus allowed those guests to know God reigning in their midst. The miracle of health and the miracle of joy are one and the same.

And that's the part of the story my eyes were really opened to by being in Copan. Too often, I think, we fall into the trap of thinking of the work we do for the body and the work we do for the soul as two different things. We get a little caught up in Maslow's hierarchy of needs, and think that we must see to the needs of the body first, see to food and drink and shelter and clothing; and afterwards, when the primary needs have been met, then we can turn to secondary things like prayer and spirituality and beauty and music and conviviality and joy. From time to time I have met churchpeople deeply committed to social ministries, who seem to think joy is a luxury they cannot deserve, who don't seem to feel they're being faithful unless they have some injustice to be outraged about, some wrong to which they can oppose their righteous anger. From time to time our Honduras mission has been criticized, because we go to Copan to build church buildings, and there are those who feel we ought to be doing something more practical, like a medical mission or a clean-water project or building houses for people rather than houses for worship. Sometimes we feel we must work to meet people's bodily needs first, and we can get to all that spiritual stuff later... if people want it of us.

But what our Gospel today tells us is that that kind of gap between bodily and spiritual just isn't real. Creating conditions of bodily well-being opens up a spirit of abundant joy, and creating occasions of spiritual abundance helps to sustain the body's health, and God's Reign is epiphanized in both. The houses of worship we build in Copan are usually among the largest buildings in the small communities we go to, and that means they also serve as community centers, classrooms, clinics when a medical team visits, meeting places when the village needs to get together — those buildings serve social needs along with the spiritual. Medical studies show that prayer and meditation and contemplation and music, such as we have here at Trinity, have positive bodily health benefits; and I have seen how the bodily feeding ministry we do at Noon Lunch has opened into a spirit of gratitude and groundedness and renewal of hope in many of our guests. The spirit and the body are deeply intertwined; and the example of Jesus in our Gospel today shows us how we can minister to both.

Jesus changed water into wine as a proclamation of God's will for our physical well-being and our abundance of spiritual joy. Having to be careful about drinking the water in Copan helped me see more clearly the intertwining of that gracious gift. May God grant you occasion to know the gift of bodily well-being and spiritual joy as well. Amen.

Baptized for What?

by The Rev. Dr. John D. Lane

Baptized for What?

This sermon is based on Luke 3:16.


John answered all of them by saying, “I baptize you with water; but one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.”

Two weeks ago, I was sitting here at the 8:45 Eucharist, where the sermon time was given over to a very interesting discussion. We were focused on the Prologue to John’s Gospel: “In the beginning was the Word ...” Speaking of the Word, thirty years ago a book called The Reader’s Digest Bible was published. The effort by one of the world’s most-respected biblical scholars, Bruce Metzger, was to edit and shorten The Holy Bible, in hopes that more people would read it. All these years later, I remember the start of one book review: “In the beginning was the word, and the word was too long.” First paragraph of this sermon and I’m already off topic.

Today is the feast of the Baptism of Christ. Most of us have been baptized. I was baptized privately at Trinity Church-Princeton when I was a little baby. The baptismal party consisting of my parents, my two sisters, and several aunts and uncles, three of them godparents, gathered after the late service. The baptistry was a separate room which nobody entered at other times. One sister and I are the only living witnesses to this event. Now, we celebrate most baptisms publicly, and we renew our own vows at the same time, with a multitude of witnesses, a great improvement in my opinion. Baptism is about all of us, not just the one being baptized.

Most of us here have been baptized. Most of us don’t remember the ceremony because we were very young at the time. Yet we still know that we were baptized. Holy Baptism is the rite that makes us Christians, followers of Christ. What difference does this make to me and you, that we are baptized Christians? A question worth pondering.

“I baptize you with water; but one who is more powerful than I is coming; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandals. He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.”

Baptism is a moment. A wedding is a moment. Ordination is a moment. Confirmation is a moment. But all of these moments lead to a journey. After Baptism we grow in faith. After a wedding the journey of a lifetime together begins. After Ordination clergy embark on a journey that will carry us we know not where–maybe even Staunton. Who knew? I certainly didn’t, though it’s been a very fulfilling place for me. After Confirmation we take more personal responsibility for our faith and the Church. We know that even good marriages have their rough spots. So does the life of faith. “I believe, O Lord; help thou my unbelief.”

E-piphany is the season of another E-word, the one that terrifies E-piscopalians: E-vangelism. This is the time to concentrate on developing our faith and sharing it with others. Being an evangelist doesn’t usually mean preaching at other people, but being ready to tell the story of our faith when we have a chance. As Saint Francis put it, “Preach constantly; if necessary, use words.” He was definitely talking to every Christian, not just clergy.

Mormons are particularly committed to evangelism, and they take literally the biblical injunction to go out “two by two.” I laud their practice of spending two years as a missionary, though I don’t buy their message. Twenty years ago, I actually let a couple of Mormon missionaries into my house. I was curious not about their message–I’d read a good deal about Mormonism–but how they

They asked me if I knew anything about their faith, and I said yes. I also told them that I was an Episcopal priest and unlikely to convert. I mentioned some of their specific doctrine, but they got out flip charts having nothing to do with my questions. Like Ol’ Man River they just kept rolling along. I’m pretty convinced nothing I could have said or done would have kept them from keepin’ on keepin’ on. Life is too short. I told them it was time to go.

To Episcopalians, evangelism is different from talking at other people. Effective evangelism involves a lot of listening. It’s a little bit like the woman who found herself at two dinner parties sitting next to  two different men. After the first dinner, she thought the man beside her was very interesting. After the second dinner, she thought that she must be very interesting. The second man encouraged her to talk about herself. He was charming.

I hope you will become more comfortable with evangelism, and actually practice it from time to time. Even if you never reach that point, there are some questions each of us needs to consider: As a baptized and active Christian, how am I different from others? How am I the same? How does my faith affect my life? Many of you have seen the movie The Godfather. ‘Godfather’ is, of course, a Christian term. Don Corleone has stood in this role at numerous baptisms. The movie moves back and forth between this role, the good things that the Don does, and the evil things he does. The message is that there is a huge disconnect between his Catholicism and his position as head of a Mafia family. He’s not the only person in today’s society who fails to connect an hour on Sunday morning with the rest of the week.

In a society which used to be nominally Christian, Christians are now in the minority. We lived in New Orleans which is listed as 80-85% Roman Catholic. Many of these ‘Catholics’ haven’t been inside a church in years, but they still consider themselves Catholic. The number of Episcopalians nationwide has declined also–from 3% to 2% of the population the last time I looked. Often we are told that the reason so many people have left is because of all our in-your-face decisions about race, gender, sexual preferences, etc. If people weren’t willing to work their way through these difficult topics, I think it’s ultimately their loss.

Paul has entrusted me to preach to you, this week and two weeks from now, so I don’t want to mess things up with what I say next, but I’ll say it anyway. I’m less interested in why the disaffected left, and much more interested in why each of you stayed and, just as much, why there are so many new faces here in the 5 years since I retired. Why are you still here? Why have you been attracted to Trinity? What does your faith mean to you? The Episcopal Church is better at questions than answers. The good news is that they tend to be important questions, things that we need to wrestle with not only individually, but corporately. I’ve been an Episcopalian for 68 years–given my mother’s proclivities, probably even longer. I consider this a blessing, even though it hasn’t always been an easy road. My prayer is that each of you will find your faith influencing the rest of your life on a daily basis, while still realizing that all of life, even faith, is a journey. It’s full of ups and downs. Why are you here today? Answer that.

I want to leave you with a final story, which might be about ineffective evangelism, not about careful listening. Ponder what you can learn from it. I don’t intend to explain it.

The Bishop of Kansas tells of a former parishioner who had done well in business and then retired. His passion was exotic travel, and he found himself sitting next to a stranger on an airplane. He couldn’t wait to tell him about all the places he’d been and the adventures he’d had. “I’ve traveled to several African countries and photographed an amazing array of animals. I went to Nepal and trekked and climbed in the Himalayas. I sailed to Antarctica, saw many varieties of penguins, and came back around Cape Horn, just like Magellan!” The man went on for a good while the other man politely listened. As they were leaving the plane he introduced himself to his seat-mate, who replied, “Pleased to meet you and hear your stories. I’m Neil Armstrong.”

Arise, Shine!

by The Rev. Shelby Ochs Owen

Feast of the Epiphany

This sermon is based on Isaiah 60:1-6 and Matthew 2:1-12.


“Arise, shine, for your light has come, and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you.”

Today is the Feast of the Epiphany, one of those rare years when this major feast day actually falls on Sunday.  For many of us, we have to be reminded year by year, just what is Epiphany and what does it represent?  Christmas is easy to remember-we celebrate the birth of Jesus.   Easter, too, is easy enough, we celebrate that Christ is risen from the dead. But for many of us Epiphany seems a bit more vague.  And yet, Epiphany, when we unpack its significance, holds all kinds of good news for us in our everyday lives.  The word Epiphany comes from the Greek word meaning revelation or manifestation, and so on the Feast of the Epiphany as well as throughout the rest of this liturgical season, we are given glimpses in Scripture of ways in which God is made known to his people.   An epiphany is often seen as a moment when an important truth becomes clear, which allows us new vision as we move forward in our lives.

In today’s reading from Isaiah, the writer is speaking to a people who have known great darkness for they have been in exile in Babylon for a long time.  Many have been forced from their homeland of Jerusalem and they have suffered greatly.  Isaiah, the prophet, not one to live in denial, declares the darkness as real and pervasive.  He says, “For darkness shall cover the earth and thick darkness the peoples.”   Isaiah knows there is reason for disappointment, reason for despair.  What the Israelites have been through has truly been awful.  And yet, right alongside the speaking of darkness he is also saying “Arise, shine, for your light has come!...Lift up your eyes and look around…then you shall see and be radiant, your heart shall thrill and rejoice.”  

Isaiah names the truth: he knows the grim realities of life and yet he names the even more important reality that something else is going on.  God is at work in the world around the exiles; God has not left them and God shines his light even in the midst of darkness.  (This concept ties into last week’s gospel reading from John, “The light shines in the darkness and the darkness did not overcome it.”)  And in Isaiah’s words lie hope but hope that calls for action on the people’s part.  “Arise, shine!” These words are not an invitation and they are certainly not a suggestion; these words are a command.  No, he says, you are not to dawdle in the darkness, you are not to get comfortable with your distress, you are not to succumb to the temptation of your negative thinking.  Right alongside the difficulties, the people are to choose to live in God’s light. And with the people reflecting God’s light they shall draw others to them, that others will see with greater clarity the goodness of God, the universal love that God has for them.  “(God’s) glory will appear over you, Nations shall come to your light and kings to the brightness of your dawn.” So once again, as has been plain throughout the scripture, life does not revolve around the chosen people; they are to be a blessing that others may be blessed; they are to live in the light that others may dwell in that same light.

I have a true story that occurred just a couple of weeks ago.  A man with a drug addiction had gone to an in-patient rehabilitation facility grumbling and griping.  He did not want to be there, had no plans of recovering, and kept saying to the group, “I’m going to leave this place; I need to get out of here.”  He had nothing positive to say about rehab. So he left.  He got as far as the local gas station. The man was in line buying something when an old woman looked at him and asked him what she could do for him.  “Do you need food?  Do you need a ride? Do you need money?”  The woman didn’t ask him a lot of questions about why he looked so depressed; she simply offered what she had.  The man was so floored by her kindness, by her not judging him, by her incredible generosity, that he ended up just asking her for a ride back to rehab!  I imagine he could have used the food and money she offered, and yet he was so knocked off his feet by her simple act of love that he went back to the place that could offer him healing, drug rehab.  There is a lot of darkness for one addicted to drugs and in the midst of this man’s darkness, he encountered a shaft of light in an old woman, so powerful that it changed his path.  Her dwelling in light allowed that light to penetrate into this man’s own being, enabling a change in perspective and encouraging him toward wholeness.  By the woman’s act of love, she was the instrument of an epiphany that changed the course of this man’s life.  

Today is my last Sunday with you as your Associate Rector, and one of the great gifts of my time with you these past three and a half years is in getting to know you, hearing your stories, walking this segment of our faith journey together.   As I have gotten to know you, I realize that even in the midst of joys and celebrations, many of you have experienced times of sadness, times of darkness- the loss of a loved one, divorce, alienation from your children, financial woes, addiction, loneliness, outrage at the massacre of school children, and yet in the midst of those sorrows you keep coming to the altar rail with hands outstretched to receive the gift of God incarnate, the gift of Jesus, the gift of love.  The very act of your empty hands lifted up is a powerful act of faith, faith that there is light even in the darkness, that there is love even in a world that would at times have us believe otherwise.

I have seen the power of God’s love at work in you these past three and a half years, as you gather in worship, as you reach out to others, as you live out your faith. Again and again I have seen you act as shafts of light in dark places.  And I have experienced God’s love in how you have shared that love with me.  Thank you for this incredible gift.   Now I urge you, brothers and sisters in Christ, to live in confidence and hope that the new realm of which Isaiah speaks is coming to pass.  Live in confidence and hope that your light has come.  Arise, shine! Cling to the deepest truth that God loves you.  May the love of Christ make you radiant!

Amen.