The Other Is Born Into Daily Life

 

A Homily for the 1^st Sunday of Christmas                       Holy Trinity Episcopal, Hertford NC.

December 31, 2023                                                      Thomas E Wilson, Supply Preacher/Celebrant

Isaiah 61:10-62:3 Galatians 3:23-25;4:4-7 John 1:1-18

The Other Is Born Into Daily Life

The community of the Beloved Disciple, around 90 AD, sees that some of its members who had known Jesus in the flesh more than a half century before are dying off from old age. Over the years, the community has shared many stories about their interaction with Jesus and now the fear is that there will be no one to continue to tell the stories, so they collect the stories in writing under the direction of several editors who winnow down the number of stories so it might fit into a scroll. The editor, who casts himself as the Apostle John, the Beloved Disciple, begins the collection of stories with a poem to set the theme. The editor knows that the language of prose is inadequate to tell a spiritual story, only poetry has that power where words glisten in greater complexity, and in reflection go ever deeper in levels of meaning. Many theologians want to hold on to prose to be precise and academic; which are two things that Jesus wasn't and faith isn't. The first line goes: “ Ἐν ἀρχῇ ἦν ὁ λόγος, καὶ ὁ λόγος ἦν πρὸς τὸν θεόν, καὶ θεὸς ἦν ὁ λόγος.” Which on the surface can read “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”

“Ἐν ἀρχῇ”, “Hen archay”, can mean “In the beginning” and it can mean “First of all”, or “At the highest and more complex”, or “At the basic or simplest level”, or “Most importantly”, or “Before there was time and space.” Which is the right translation? And the answer of course is “Yes! It is all at the same time!”

ἦν ὁ λόγος, “En ho logos”, can mean “There was the Word”, or “Personal Expression”, or “Plan”, or “Promise”, or “Intension”, or “Audit”, or “Dream”, or “Hope”, or “Mystery”, or “Deepest murmur of the heart and will”, or a dozen other shades, and this multitude of meanings was echoing in God and was the fulness of God, Godself. Then later on in the poem this multitude of meanings became “σὰρξ”, “sarks”.

“σὰρξ”, “sarks”. Can mean “became flesh”, or “entered into our brokenness, our selfishness, our self centeredness, our sinful nature, our limitedness, our weakness, our idiocy, our loneliness, our natures that are turned in on ourselves, our hardheadedness, and our soft heartedness, our delight, our ability to laugh and to love, the ability to blush in embarrassment or to have the need to, our enjoyment of our bodies, our tears, our longings, our chatter, our silences, our boredom, our excitement, our pratfalls and our nobility, our deepest fears, our darkest moments, our hidden dreams and “being human” keeps on going. The editor is trying to tell us that the multitude of meanings of logos didn't just put on a costume and prance around for awhile; this logos emptied self out to live in our earthly tents as one of us.

We have this simple view of the universe and on one side of the great divide between the divine and the human, God sits all alone in splendid isolation, the unmoved mover, and pulls the strings or leaves us alone depending on the divine whim, while on the other side of the great divide we humans wallow around in the mud. The problem with that simplistic view is that the editor wants to tell us of the deep longing of God to be united with each part of us; a longing on which God acts and which is still calling for union.

This God acted in history and people experienced occupying the same space, and breaking the same bread, and drinking deeply of the same cup. But not content with just looking like slumming it only once upon a time in the person of Jesus, the divine invites each of us to come and cross the divide with our spirit emptied into God's hopes and dreams and God's spirit emptied into our daily life. God is the lover who calls us to come and lay our burdens down so that we may lie down with the divine and participate in the poetry of love. Listen to the one who Matthew remembers calling using the words in an Idiomatic Modern English Translation of the Bible by Eugene Peterson: “Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” (The Message Translation 11:28-30)

The Other Is Born Into Daily Life

God is a lot easier to talk to in ritual,

Where the words are well used, worn

Into palatable speech so easily borne;

Thoughts trapped, becoming habitual.

Thees or Thous, which once intimate,

Had calcified into religious formality,

Devolving into a speech of banality,

Drowning a faith with heavy weight.

However, “sarks” comes by entering

Into the mundane and, in every day,

Worms in to give Divine another say,

Uses love language, not by lecturing.

Aimed at our heart and senses adorning.

Deeper faith brought forth by a-borning.

Sailor Dave Smith 12-30-23

 

A Reflection on the Life of David Guest Smith, “Sailor” Dave                December 30, 2023

The Church Of The Holy Trinity, Hertford, NC                         Thomas E Wilson Guest Presider

A Service of Thanksgiving For His Life. (8-19-1937 to 11-28-23)

Lamentations (3:22-26, 31-33), 2^nd Corinthians (4:16- 5:9), John (6: 36-400

When “Sailor” Dave Smith died, we here at the Church of the Holy Trinity in Hertford had been using the Advent Wreath as a way of getting ready for Christmas. The Advent wreath has five Candles which help illustrate the way that we approach the Holy. The Wreath had four candles in the circle which symbolizes the steps to union with the divine; Hope, then Peace, then Joy and then Love. After we pause each week to look at the journey, on Christmas Day we light the Christ Candle, the center to say that Christ has come into the world and we are connected to the Divine.

We understand that these symbolize the steps in Prayer and Spiritual Grace in every day life; Hope, Joy, Peace, Love lead into holy Union. When I learned how to grow in Prayer instead of just parroting old ritual prayers as I prepared to be a Priest, I found that there is an inward journey to union as well to take undergirding all the Bible Study, Religious Theories, and Liturgical Stagecraft that I was learning. Just closing my eyes and say the first thing I could think of to fill up the silence in talking to God. You can talk any way you want in talking to God, but growing with God is a little more complicated than shooting off my thoughts to the empty silence.

The first step is Hope. This is where I had to stop and think about what it was I was going to ask for. I had to ask “What would God want for me?” instead of pouring out what I wanted and just blunder ahead. Let me give you an example. When I was in college one summer, I worked as an actor in an Outdoor Drama in Florida. I was pretty good, in that I learned and said my lines well, could do a realistic battle with the Indians, commanded my stage in my places the Director approved, stood looking pretty in my 16^th Century Spanish Soldier costume. I thought I was good, but I was the only member of the cast not to sing. I was just belting out and not really paying attention to the notes or tone. My ego, covering my 19 year old insecurity, was too great for me to shed for me to be part of a larger cast in song. I did not approach the song, nor the summer, with Hope. The problem was that I was play acting and did not form a relationship with my character; I was only doing it for the money, and what I could get out of a wild summer on the Beach with a equally shallow girl friend.

When we approach something with Hope, we begin by stepping outside what we want and begin to explore an opportunity for union with something greater than myself. We had to be prepared to grow and learn; and to be persuaded that we could do it. That was Hope: the beginning of growth. As Paul wrote in his Letter to the Corinthians “Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day.” and “We walk by faith and not by sight.”

The second part of the learning was Peace. We have to learn how to be comfortable stretching ourselves leaving our fragile egos behind. We have to learn that failure is a way of learning and we do not need to be totally in charge. Learning was not an admission of stupidity but a step into a move towards mastery.

Joy was that next step as we learned each new step and were proud of stretching ourselves to do what we once feared.

The next step is Love which is the step beyond having joy because of our mastery, but to see our growth as a way to give a gift of love.

The next step is union where we would see ourselves as connected to something much larger than ourselves. As John remembers Jesus promise “I will raise you up on the last day.” or as I like to think that the Christ is here to raise us all up on every day.

I think of Dave and how he learned to sail. When I first heard the name “Sailor Dave Smith”, I thought it was interesting that parents would give the name “Sailor” as their son's first name. But it was the choice of friends to use to differentiate two men in the development named Dave, Trooper Dave and Sailor Dave, based on what they had done before they came to the development.

You don't get popped out of the womb being a sailor, you begin by learning how much you do not know, but you trust you will learn if you devote time and energy to match your hope. There will be a lot of failures, but there will come a time of peace where the wind, the water, the sails, the apparatus are your friends that you no longer battle against; there is peace is the boat. Then, there is joy and you want to do it as much as possible. So much joy, that friends start calling you Sailor Dave as if that was your birth name and that is where union begins.

Those are the steps, Hope, Peace, Joy, Love and Union that Dave took when he made the decision to study music and play a musical instrument, starting with a Sousaphone. These were the steps, Hope, Peace, Joy, Love and Union that Dave did when he looked at his nation he loved and made the decision to be in the service as an outward and visible sign of his love. These were the steps, Hope, Peace, Joy, Love and Union that Dave took when he learned how to fly with eagles. These were the steps, Hope, Peace, Joy, Love and Union that Dave took when he joined choirs and learned how to sing together with others to make a beautiful noise for God's people. These were the steps Hope, Peace, Joy, Love and Union that Dave learned how to be a member of a church. These were the steps Hope, Peace, Joy, Love and Union that Dave noticed Alice, a beautiful woman and dated and married her 55 years ago. These were the steps Hope, Peace, Joy, Love and Union that Dave went through to become a parent raising two sons two sons, David and Michael and being a grandfather to Nathaniel. These were the steps Hope, Peace, Joy, Love and Union that Dave took in his life ending with union with God and all creation that we celebrate today. As the reading for Lamentations read today reminds us: “Steadfast Love never ceases.”

I noted Dave's birthdate and Dave was two days older, than my wife, she was born on August 12, 1937 who she died six months ago. When I first met Pat almost 40 years ago, I did not like her, nor she me. Then as time went on I saw in her something I admired. Then I had hope that we might share some time. Then I had peace when I did not screw it up. Then I had joy in being with her. Then we shared love together, and 32 years ago we entered into Union. She died a little more than six months ago, but the Union remains. She is still in my life; I cannot see her but she is here in my soul and in God's arms. As Dave is part of this church's and your soul and God's love.

We are coming to the end of this year and tomorrow evening we might share, with our friends and our God, the choices that we choose to make in our lives in this coming New Year. Today, we give thanks for Dave Smith's life and choices; for the journeys in his life and in his death in Union with God's love.

Preparing For A Eulogy

Stepping off the larger stage leaving behind

all the trappings of what our wallet can hold,

when we can look at what it took to be bold,

by stepping out of a comfortable daily grind.

When we make a decision to breathe deeply,

of each moment we've been given to cherish,

to leave behind all the dull, tawdry or garish,

which clutters our very souls, oh so cheaply.

These are moments when we can stop to see,

all of the choices we have made to be bold,

not worrying if we are too young or too old,

seizing moments to live into the real “me”.

The “me” moments that we can only hope

mourners'll want stretch lives to that scope.

Light Into Darkness

A Reflection for Christmas Day                                      All Saints Episcopal, Southern Shores, N.C. December 25, 2023                                                        Thomas E. Wilson, Guest Preacher

Isaiah 52:7-10 Hebrews 1:1-4,(5-12) John 1:1-14 Psalm 98

Light Into The Darkness

Today, Christmas Day 2023, all the time of the shopping, pageants, services and the receiving presents are over. It is now time to be still, marvel and give. It is now time to be still and know that the Word, God's very Spirit, has entered into all of our lives in the life of Jesus, and those who came into contact with him. As the Gospel says “...all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God, who were born, not of blood or of the will of the flesh or of the will of man, but of God.And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father's only son, full of grace and truth.”

The Gospel lesson from Christmas tells us that the Shepherds went home marveling, and Mary pondered in her heart while caring for her child. Now that it was over, it seemed time to ask what did this all mean?

What did it mean for say the Innkeeper and his wife,? I wonder if they had thoughts like this?

The woman was so tired from walking so far. She had to travel 4 days to cover the distance of walking with a pregnant woman over 40 miles from Nazareth to Bethlehem. Our first thought was “Lady, We didn't ask you to get Pregnant. We have a business to run and the point of living is make enough money that you can provide for your family and not be a burden on the community. Like we always say; “When times get rough, we have to be stronger and rougher!”

Except, there was something when we looked at this couple we remembered the times when times got rough for us and some people, out of love, gave us help. It was like I was feeling a Spirit coming into our hearts asking me to be a light into the darkness this family was going through. It was like I was being told, maybe the child in the darkness of his mother's womb needed to be born into the fulness of light. Maybe it is the time, like the Psalmist sings; “Sing To The Lord A New Song!”

What did it mean for the Shepherds? I wonder if one of the Shepherds had thoughts like this:

The Angels said, “Fear Not”. I spent my whole life looking for God acting in this world. I heard stories about God being made plain to other people or in other places, but for schmucks like me it was God which was that something that happened to other people. Yes, I go through the religious obligations and services and other, luckier people seem to enter into it all but something, I don't know what, has always kept me from committing myself. I saw a baby, and I thought that was all that I had seen. But as I get still, I wonder if I don't see God better not in the Angels, not in the singing, not in the ritual, but in the still small moments of life like the new baby. Maybe God is telling me that the Divine is in every incarnation. The family we saw is a disposable family- I've see hundreds of people like them on the road; their lives go nowhere. At least I have a job. Yet, maybe this child named Jesus is the one who God uses to open the door for us to see the full worth of God in every disposable person. Maybe the full love and worth of God are even in those people I work with, some of them seem to be bad news and can be difficult. Maybe the experience of this child is pointing that it wasn't just one Holy night but that all days and nights are holy. I wonder if this is what God was saying through the angels and this child? Let me be still a bit longer and ponder this and then maybe look again at all those disposable moments and people in my life.

What did it mean for Mary? I wonder if she had thoughts like these:

The Angel nine months ago said: “Fear not.” I just think that words are not good enough; there are too many other scary feelings besides fear.. Joseph says he loves me; but I doubt if he, or any man, has any idea of what it means to be pregnant, day in and day out. I have to put on a smile, after all he did accept the Angel story. But I am 14 years old and I missed the neighbors ooh-ing and awe-ing about the wedding celebration. Everybody knows how to count to nine and the looks of pity my parents got from the leaders of the town. I know, I know pity washes over me from time to time, despite how much I love my baby. We, Joseph and I, should have, and I wish we had, more time to go through the courtship stage before we got married. He is old and if he really knew all the things that I had thought while living with him, I'm afraid he would be so hurt and offended that he might never come back. It happened too fast!I was just about to lose it when those noisy, unwashed and half drunk- that would be the only way to explain their behavior – shepherds who said that they were just in the neighborhood. I had to smile and be nice- because what can you do when it seems like your home is a pigsty. At least there aren't any pigs, but I was afraid I would scream at them and tell them to leave me alone. I am so afraid of so many things. I'm afraid, I'm afraid I am not going to be a good mother. Look at this child, so small. He felt so big inside me and don't get me started about him coming out. I could drop him. I could hurt him because of my inexperience. I might say things to him that might scar him for life. What if he grows up to hate me for being so insistent on having things my own way? Or, if he gets irritated at my own neediness. Yet, he is a gift, a gift given out of love. As I hold on to him, can I hold on to that concept and each time see not just him but to look through him, or his behavior, to the gift he is? I am surrounded by gifts I don't deserve. Who knows maybe the shepherds were a gift? Maybe being in a stable was a gift?

What did it mean to Joseph? I wonder if Joseph had thoughts like these?

OK, we have the child now and we are in Bethlehem due to those no good Romans wanting to keep track of all the people they rule over. God knows the journey we will have to take before we get home. I've fulfilled my promise to love Mary and the child. Nazareth is such a poor small town that I am barely able to make a decent living being a Carpenter. I am going to have to work harder. I may have to go work in the bigger Greek speaking city, Sepphoris which is four miles away. I could find more work for my sons from my first marriage and when Jesus gets older, there would be enough work working for the rich people who build bigger and bigger houses. I made a promise to take care of her and our son. I use the word “Our”, because I am claiming him to be my responsibility and I will love him. The Spirit that has rubbed off on me tells me that people are not defined by blood but by the presence of God's Spirit.

I wonder what does this day means to each of us?

Light Into The Darkness

Bumping into furniture in an empty room,

Walking as if knew where I was going,

Swept to where the wind was blowing,

Yet, hoping my Body's spirit to exhume.

Needing a light to shine on this darkness,

Finding ways to kindle old damp matches,

A Faith that was used to scripture snatches,

Moving into a quiet spirit of inwardness.

Being still to all the old tired solutions,

Which used to work so easily in the past,

But into “I'm not in Kansas anymore” cast

Getting rid of attachments to institutions,

Start by standing where light is to share

With others having the courage to spare.

Advent Hope Sunday 2023

 

Poem/Reflection, 1^st Sunday of Advent,                                December 3, 2023

Guest Preacher/Celebrant Thomas E Wilson                         Church of the Holy Trinity, Hertford, NC

Advent Hope Sunday 2023

Isaiah 64:1-9     1     Corinthians 1:3-9         Mark 13:24-37      Psalm 80:1-7, 16-18

Many of you know that five months ago my wife died. We both had been married before and we built on that wreckage with a new Hope, a Hope that we had learned from the past and worked each day on nurturing Peace, Joy and Love. We were lucky and we read and studied together three of Robert A. Johnson's books, a Jungian Analyst, Psychotherapist and author who died three years ago at age 97. The books were, “He: Understanding Masculine Psychology”, “She: Understanding Feminine Psychology”, and “We: Understanding the Psychology of Romantic Love.” That last book states that “Romantic is not Love but a complex of attributes about love.” It wasn't Romance that held us together but it was Hope. Johnson observed:

Zen teaches that Inner Growth always involves an experience of “a red hot coal stuck in the throat”In our development we always come to a problem, an obstacle, that goes so deep that we “can't swallow it and can't cough it up.”. . . We can't live with it and we can't live without it – we can't swallow it, and we can't cough it up! The “hot coal” in our throats alerts us that a tremendous emotional potential is trying to manifest itself.”

That manifestation of the potential, “Hope”, is the time we know we can't just continue to deny there is a problem and try to live blissfully, but we are called to go deeper spiritually.

When I do reflections on scripture, I don't just do it for people in pews. I reflect on scripture to help me hold on to Hope. Forty some years ago on Sunday nights or early Monday mornings I got into a habit and started looking at the lessons for the coming week in the Hope that God might speak to me through the scriptures to meet the coming week. Often I was looking for something that would stick as a red hot coal in my soul.The Spirit of the Living God is not about making these words Holy but about turning to these words and entering into the Spirit of those who wrote those words out of their red hot coals to have Hope; Hope in a living God, not a God of idols or doctrine. But I also go to those whose words did not get put into official scripture but about those people who saw deeply and shared their vision of Hope.

Every Advent I pull up one of my favorite poems. It is by 19^th Century Poet Emily Dickinson, ““Hope” is the thing with feathers”. She wrote, she said from “the landscape of her spirit”. She wrote for herself and her soul and did not give titles to her poems. But after she died and the Poems were published, the first line of each poem was often given as the Title

“Hope” is the thing with feathers -

That perches in the soul -

And sings the tune without the words -

And never stops - at all -

And sweetest - in the Gale - is heard -

And sore must be the storm -

That could abash the little Bird

That kept so many warm -

I’ve heard it in the chillest land -

And on the strangest Sea -

Yet - never - in Extremity,

It asked a crumb - of me.

Hope is that memory, small or large, in the past that continues into the present and which we can hold on to its promise even into an unknown future. It is that awareness that a power greater than ourselves is imbedded into our daily being. There are moments when we get so busy and worried that we temporarily forget, but Hope holds on and lives even into the middle of the doubt.

For this first Sunday of Advent, the Hebrew Testament selection is from what scholars believe is the voice of Second Isaiah. Many scholars posit that the Book of Isaiah is divided into at least 2 or three parts with an overarching theme of the “Day of Yahweh” as the hope that there will be a time when Israel's God, Yahweh, will subject all of God's people to a time of Peace, Joy and Love. First Isaiah, written by the Prophet Isaiah of the Jerusalem Temple, who started his ministry with a broken heart, and a red hot coal in his throat in the call from God in the “Year King Uzziah died” (742 BCE) The name Uzziah (Uzzīyyāhū), meant in Hebrew “my faith is in Yahweh”. Here is what happens in Isaiah's life; the one in whom he had put his trust has died, and now Isaiah must put his trust in something other than earthly rulers. He must live into his own name, Isaiah in Hebrew Yeshayahu" (“Yahweh is my Salvation.”). He has a hard rime swallowing the events of the times but he cannot just cough it back up; he has to let it enter his soul to find out how his faith can grow. His Hope must be in a power greater than earthly events and that is where he begins his spiritual and earthly ministry.

You may remember that two weeks ago, I related to you that this area whose capital was Jerusalem had been under threat of constant attack from the Egyptian Empire, then the Assyrian Empire, and later by the Babylonian empires. Constant tension and yet they hold on to this Hope. They hold on to this hope in resisting these empires. Finally the Southern Kingdom is captured by the Babylonians, the walls of Jerusalem lay in ruins, and many of the leaders of the Southern Kingdom are taken into exile into the Babylonian Empire in (587 BCE). Yet, the Hope remains, regardless of all of the outward signs; Hope remains for Peace, Joy and Love in everyday life.

The writer of Second Isaiah, is one of the disciples of the School of Isaiah in Jerusalem, the Temple has been destroyed, but out of the ruins, he does not just say it sticks in his craw, but he goes within himself and he writes to the exiles from the wreckage to remind them to hold on to hope. The walls are gone, the Temple is destroyed, the leaders are in captivity but Hope holds on. Finally in 539 BCE, 3^rd Isaiah sees the Hope in the success of the Persian Empire, Cyrus the Great in overthrowing Babylon and allowing the exiles to return to their home and to their Hope that they continued to hold on to. The time period covered by Isaiah and his school are about 200 + years. Death does not stop hope; and those who read or teach from those books hold onto that hope over the centuries after the Greek Empires came, and after the Roman Empire came. Everything changed, but Hope remained to hold on the Peace, Joy and Love in everyday life.

The Composer of the Psalm for today, which was probably written in the Northern Kingdom and brought into the Temple of Jerusalem, when the Northern Kingdom was destroyed by the Assyrians in 720 BCE, remembers the Hope that God's people had placed in God in the past years. The people sing in asking God to give them the Hope filled Grace to ask again in song: “Restore us, O God of hosts; show the light of your countenance, and we shall be saved.”

Five and a half centuries after 3^rd Isaiah, there is this Hebrew prophet from Nazareth, heavily influenced by the writings of all the Isaiah's reminds the people to hold on to the Hope, even with Roman rule. Kings and Emperors die, but Hope is still Alive for the Day of the Lord. He says in the lesson for today that generations will pass away; but hold on to the Hope, the Hope that never dies, urging us to have Peace, Joy and Love in everyday life.

Hope never dies; after Jesus is killed, his message and ministry continues as people, gathering in Jesus' name, say that even though Jesus was killed, the Christ continues to live in the ministries of isolated communities they call the Church, people who hold on to Hope. Paul writes to a church in the city of Corinth; and what a messed up group of people there are there. They fight over everything, but Paul reminds them to hold on to the Hope that there will be a day when God's Peace, Joy and Love is in every heart.

I hold on to Hope and it is what gets me through. My wife, Pat, had been struggling with illness for the last 3 years but each day, week, month and year we held on to that Hope for all of our 34 years of marriage.

The day after she died I wrote a poem:

The Next Day

Your side of the bed was empty this morning.

Last night you weren't there for me to kiss you,

and tell you again what I had hoped you knew,

in a ritual that for decades was habit forming.

I knew I should get going, work out at the gym,

but it seemed pointless without a morning tryst

as this sweaty lover telling you'd been missed

and his deep love was not just a passing whim.

Yesterday, you kept that deadly appointment;

feared, delayed and avoided, but now met.

I knew, of course, I'd have to give you up. Yet,

didn't do ritual prayers or anoint with Ointment.

I could not be your Priest, only a failed lover

who could not stop those angels to hover.

She died, but our Hope never died. We Christians see death as not the end of hope, but a step in the journey to a deeper Peace, Joy and Love. Each day, when things happen that I cannot swallow and I cannot just cough up or shut down. I take deep it into myself, and bathe it in Hope and each day I am aware that her Peace, Joy and Love continues in my life. Yeah, there are moments when I will bump into furniture and flirt with being sorry for myself, but I hold on to that Hope which we nurtured every day and that keeps her spirit alive in my heart and in the hearts of those who loved her as well.

This is the first Sunday of Advent, a season to remember each day is an opportunity to be reconciled to Hope, Peace, Joy and Love.

Joy- The Gift of Advent in and to Community

A Reflection on the 3^rd Sunday of Advent             Church of the Holy Trinity, Hertford, NC

December 17, 2023                                                 Thomas E Wilson, Guest Celebrant

Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11 Canticle 3 1 Thessalonians 5:16-24 John 1:6-8,19-28

JOY – The Gift of Advent in and to Community

Today, we look at the Gaudete or 3^rd (or Rose colored) candle, the Candle of Joy. It is the Joy of Mary when she finds out she is Pregnant.

My soul doth magnify the Lord, *
    and my spirit hath rejoiced in God my Savior.
For he hath regarded *
    the lowliness of his handmaiden.
For behold from henceforth *
    all generations shall call me blessed.

The Song that she sings is heavily influenced by the Song of Hannah, the mother of Samuel, who also understands that she is pregnant with a child who will be the Prophet who will give meaning to his nation. Hannah and Mary know that both of their children as prophets, as they as mothers of prophets know all too well, will have many times of sorrow. However, their faith tells them that deep sorrow while painful and will last as long as it needs, joy is what will remain for generations to come.

In the Hebrew Testament lesson for today, it is the Joy of the prophets of the school of Isaiah, who live in ruins, but now whose hearts are filled with joy that the exiles will return and rebuild those ruins of Jerusalem.

It is the joy that Paul is writing in his letter to the Gentile Christians in Thessaloniki in his final exhortations: “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances.” No matter the situation, the fallback position of a Christian is to rejoice and pray with thanksgiving.

It is the Joy of John the Baptizer who in the Gospel Lesson from the Apostle John has in sorrow seen that his own work will end; but in joy understands the torch will be passed on to the one who is the Messiah, Jesus.

Last Sunday I tried to begin to write this week's sermon. I am doing the Candles on the Advent wreath which symbolize Hope, Peace, Joy and Love. I started off this series two weeks ago with my theme of Hope. So I pulled up the lessons. I started to work and as they say, “I was cooking with Gas”. UNTIL I realized that I was writing on Love, the 4th Candle. It was supposed to be about the 3rd Candle, JOY.

The thing is that I wasn't all that joyful. My focus on Love had a lot to do with my love for Pat, my wife who had died about 6 months ago. I did not feel any sort of joy and was in the middle of throwing a pity party about myself.

That morning I had gone to a Presbyterian service where the Pastor is holding his last service at that Parish, before he is moving from the Outer Banks to another church in Charlotte. I was there to thank him for the work he had done in our community. It was sad to see him leave, I respected his work. I had no joy for his leaving. I did not do any reflection on Peace, the second candle. In that I was lucky since I was far from Peace.

I walked away from the writing and admitted that Joy and I were strangers right now. One way to avoid sorrow is to pick a fight with someone and point out that THEY are the ones with the problem the Preacher wants to avoid in his or her own life. Preachers in church have it easy: they can always look at the parishioners and brow beat them for their failures AND get paid for it at the same time. I could write something like:"You miserable sinners, you ought to project joy! It is your Christian duty! Shape up and fly right, you creatures of the pews!"

For the next 30+ hours I avoided thinking about Joy and gave that job to God. Then I went to Facebook, nothing helps running away more than a computer. The Gods of Facebook had done their research and they brought up a picture out of the ether waves, posted nine years ago on that day. It was a picture of my youngest grandson, Nick and in that moment he became St. Nick in my life. This happy little boy, was smiling, he was nine at the time and the years of learning how to be a sullen teenager were far ahead of him. He was in their home in Colorado, so far away, proudly standing with his Cello, and the musical instrument as almost as tall as he was. He knew nothing about failure, his face knew only joy. I saw his smile and I became a prisoner of his joy. The family of my beloved daughter, her wonderful husband and the oldest Grandson, Luke, who is in his senior year of college working on his degree in Music with the Computer as his instrument, I was flooded with how much I joyfully loved that family. Nick, That little boy is now finishing up his first semester at an Upper Midwestern College where he is majoring in Environmental Science. How he has grown up!

A few minutes, less that 15, I had another attack of joy. Then, around 2:00, just after looking at the picture of my grandson, Nick, I got a phone call from another local Presbyterian retired friend of mine. He and his wife are retired Presbyterian ministers and had been at the service on that Sunday morning. I though he was calling to share how badly he felt that our friend was leaving, BUT, he was in the process of putting the Christmas Card addresses in order. He was checking on my address.

I didn't really care about getting a card, but I was touched that he was reaching out to me to remind me that I was not alone and that he and his wife wanted to tell me that I was loved and Pat was missed. I told him about how I needed to hear that, I was now filled with joy.

I understood that Joy is not something that we whomp up, but Joy is a gift that is being given all the time and we just have to stop and be surprised. Even when we don't see it, we are surrounded.

I thought of William Wordsworth's Poem, one of the founders of English Romanticism which paid close attention to feelings and in his poem Surprised By Joy written in 1812. Wordsworth was all alone, mourning the death of his three year old daughter, Catherine, and his six year old son, Thomas, six months later. In the poem he feels guilty that he had allowed joy to surprise him and he saw he was being unfaithful to his love to have any joy.

Surprised by joy—impatient as the Wind

I turned to share the transport—Oh! with whom

But Thee, long buried in the silent Tomb,

That spot which no vicissitude can find?

Love, faithful love, recalled thee to my mind—

But how could I forget thee?—Through what power,

Even for the least division of an hour,

Have I been so beguiled as to be blind

To my most grievous loss!—That thought’s return

Was the worst pang that sorrow ever bore,

Save one, one only, when I stood forlorn,

Knowing my heart’s best treasure was no more;

That neither present time, nor years unborn

Could to my sight that heavenly face restore.

In that poem I saw my life was imitating his art, except I was lucky and my friend had been with me, and I understood that Joy cannot be self sustained, it takes a community.

I meet once a month with a group of friends and we are now reading a book n written by Nadia Bolz -Webber, a Lutheran Pastor of The House of All Sinners and Saints. This passage struck me as I was preparing this reflection and you are looking for a new Rector:

So often in the church, being a pastor or “a spiritual leader” means the example of “Godly living.” A pastor is supposed to be the person who is really good at this Christianity stuff- the person others can look to as an example of righteousness. But as much as being the person who's the best Christian, who “Follows Jesus” the most closely, can feel a little seductive, it simply never been who I am or who my parishioners need me to be. I am not running after Jesus. Jesus is running my ass ( an expressive word for “behind”) down. Yeah, I am a leader, but I am leading them onto a street to get hit by the speeding bus of confession and absolution, sin and sainthood, death and resurrection – that is the Gospel of Jesus Christ.

I am a beggar and I take joy wherever I can find it. Over the years my reaction is to take my sorrow to church so I can be surrounded with love which brings forth joy. I am preaching on joy because it is a gift of God's spirit each of us needs to embrace daily. I am not going to preach on love next week; I'll just have to live it if Jesus catches me.

Andy Mohr: Sexton and Friend

 

A Homily on the Occasion of a Service of Thanksgiving for Eternal Life of Andy Mohr

All Saints Episcopal Church, Southern Shores, NC

December 9, 2023 Thomas E Wilson, Friend

As I started to write this Homily about my friend Andy Mohr, who I met over 20 years ago, I looked at the reflections of others as they started their daily reflections. I visited Deacon Joanna Seibert's Daily Something, which she started with a reflection by the Bishop Steven Charleston and I found what I wanted to do. Charleston wrote:

I honor you. I honor you for who you are and for what you have done. You did not become the person you are without effort. You have weathered many storms and seen many changes. You have kept going when others might have given up. You have lived your life like an art, creating what you did not have, dreaming what you could not see. And in so doing, you have touched many other lives. You have brought your share of goodness into the world. You have helped more than one person when they needed you. I honor you for walking with integrity, for making hope real, for being who you have become, I honor you.”—Bishop Steven Charleston Daily Facebook Page.

I wanted to honor Andy.A brighter person would have sat down at this point, but as my wife used to tell me “Your not too bright but it is a good thing you are cute.” I want to thank Rev. Cindy and Paula for allowing me to be here to share with you about, and honor, my friend Andy. When I started working in the church business I made it a habit not to be friends with people who I might have to fire. It was a professional relationship, end of story. That worked for a number of years until I married Pat and she started working on me. When we came here and I met Andy, Pat fell in love with him first, because he was so wonderfully helpful to her, and she would not allow a negative statement about Andy to be made in her presence, even by me “Thank you very much!” Today we honor Andy.

Today we are in the season of Advent, the four Sundays before we are introduced to the birth of Jesus and the rebirth of Jesus in our hearts. Andy decided not to wait and he was early for rehearsal with the Angels. He got as far as the first Sunday of Advent where the theme of the week is “Hope”. Like he needed to reflect on Hope. This is a man who had a Heart Attack and had the Hope that he would recover for another decade plus. He had the Hope that his wife, children, grandchildren and Great Grandchildren would have learned enough from his life as to capture some of the hope he passed on to them and the church would continue teaching that the message of every church is that there is Redemption of all; of life and death.

The second Sunday of Advent is on the theme of Peace. Peace is not the easy absence of conflict but the meeting of challenges with affirming strength. For Andy, there was not a separate agenda of reprisal, only the return to a sense of stable order. That is why he really liked fixing things and returning them to working order. He believed that he could fix almost anything. Andy learned that the world was very complex and greater than his own ego and his message was that he had to keep on learning. He found peace when he could restore order in his life.

The third Sunday's theme is of Joy, and Andy's Joy was in that return to order. He enjoyed when people worked together, using their separate skills and each skill and person honored. He lived as if the church was greater than his own ego. His message to himself was that he had to keep learning. I will use the example of chairs. Every Church season, it was my bright idea to move the chairs around to meet the message of the season.

For instance, in a season where I wanted to say that Christ was living in the space between us, it would be my bright idea to move the Altar in to the center of the church with the chairs surrounding the Altar, all the chairs focused on the Altar. When the Season called for the need to people to be more aware of the need for unity in Church life, I would divide up the chairs so that no matter where you faced there would be another person who would be looking at you and you at them. If I thought that there needed to be a sense of greater learning and understanding I would set up the Altar like a classroom. When I thought that the people needed to be more in awe of the beauty of God's nature, I would set up the Altar facing the Windows looking out at the blossoming trees blooming and the birds flying joyfully from limb to limb, and at the end I would crumble up the leftover bread and step outside to feed the crumbs to our feathered friends to join in communion with us. If the season called for a long walk as a time for preparation, I would set up the Altar on the East end of the church with all people have to walk the long walk to enter and receive.

Did Andy like Moving chairs? NO. Actually the term most appropriate would be “Hell No!” Did he approve of all that extra effort? “NO!” He did it because he understood that his ministry in the church was greater than his own ego and he was here as a Servant of God and in that he found more joy when things came together.

The last Sunday of Advent is the theme of Love. Andy knew love. Above all. Paula loved him. He loved each of his children, grandchildren and Great grandchildren. He loved when things would come together. He loved being in the presence of others during the Coffee Hour after the services. That is why we are having a coffee hour after this service. I loved how he greeted my wife; for he loved my wife and I him. He loved living into the Practice of the Eternal and he knew when we die we continue an Eternal life.

Andy's Advent is over. “No more waiting!” I am reminded of that old Andre' Crouch song: Soon and very soon,

Soon and very soon,

We are going to see the King,

Soon and very soon,

We are going to see the King.

Soon and very soon,

We are going to see the King,

Hallelujah, hallelujah,

We are going to see the King.

Verse 2

No more crying there,

We are going to see the King,

No more crying there,

We are going to see the King.

No more crying there,

We are going to see the King,

Hallelujah, Hallelujah,

We are going to see the King.

Verse 3

No more dying there,

Andy's gone to see the King,

No more dying there,

Andy's gone to see the King.

No more dying there,

Andy's gone to see the King,

Hallelujah, Hallelujah,

We're all going to see the King.

But, What Do I Get Out Of This?

 

Reflection and Poem For 25^th Sunday after Pentecost         The Church of the Holy Cross, Hertford, NC November 19, 2023                                                             Thomas E Wilson, Guest Celebrant

Judges 4:1-7           Psalm 123 1        Thessalonians 5:1-11         Matthew 25:14-30

But, What Do I Get Out Of This?

Almost 30 years ago, as part of my Sabbatical, Pat and I went to study in St. George's College in Jerusalem to take a course on the Palestine of Jesus. One day the class went up to Mount Tabor which the Hebrew Testament Lesson identifies as the battle site of the Wadi Kishon where the forces of Deborah and Barak defeated the Canaanite forces of Sisera. The Bible in this chapter of the book of Judges records the Battle and its outcome but the next chapter has The Song of Deborah, the “fiery woman”. It is a Hebrew poem, which may have been written as early as the 12^th Century BCE, or as late as the 3^rd BCE, and may or may not describe an historical event, but it is treated as true in the minds of people who come to the site to worship. In the Song of Deborah she sings about the death of Sisera, who was fleeing the Battle, and then was killed against the laws of Sanctuary by Jael, the wife of Heber the Kenite who was not Jewish. She was hiding him and feeds him perhaps drugged milk and covers him with a blanket, speaking softly to him, and then drives a tent peg through his skull. Then there is a heartbreaking couple of verses where Sisera'a wife is wondering why his chariot of glory is taking so long. The song of all the mothers and wives waiting for their men to come back from one more senseless war. David sang it best when in the Book of Samuel, he laments the deaths of his enemy Saul and Saul's son and David's lover, Jonathan. “How the mighty have fallen and the weapons of War perished!”

Mount Tabor is also identified as the Mount of the Transfiguration, where Jesus was transfigured and the disciples got a glimpse that Jesus was more than a traveling Preacher.. We were up there to worship; the practice of worship and the point of the Sabbatical, is the practice of seeing things in a different way. Mount Tabor on the Megiddo plain, in the Valley of Jezreel is about a 2+ hour drive north from Jerusalem, about 8 miles west from Nazareth and about 11 miles east from the Sea Of Galilee.

When we were on top of the mountain. We could see the the plain where the battle in the poem or at least is idiomatic of the history, took place where the Wadi Kishon overflowed and turned the area into quicksand which swallowed up the mighty chariots of Sisera.

We could also see the centuries of historical battles where invaders brought war and destruction. In my imagination I could see the forces of Pharaoh Tutmose III of Egypt cruelly crushing his opponents at the Battle of Megiddo in the 15^th Century BCE.

In my prayers, I could see the next major Battle with historical documentation of Megiddo where the Egyptian Pharaoh Necho II fought with allies of the fading Assyrian Empire and their vassals like King Josiah of Judah against the Neo-Babylonian Empire in 609 BCE., where Josiah is killed. Therefore, setting up the Babylonian conquest and destruction of Jerusalem 20 years later. In this battle Egypt is expelled out of Asia Minor.

I could see the Greek Armies of Alexander the Great slaughtering on their way from Gaza to Damascus and to Persia in 331 BCE.

I could see the Roman Legions of Pompey the Great and Mark Antony, a couple of Centuries later killing all in their path of making a Roman Client state under Herod the Great. There were Battles and slaughters of Jews in 55 BCE and in 66 CE

After Christianity became the religion of Rome, I could see the Iron rule of the Christian Roman Emperors being enforced with blood.

I could see the Desert Tribes out of Mecca conquering all in their path getting rid of Christian Empire rule.

I could see the Crusaders from Europe come in to conquer the land for Christ and killing Jews for Jesus.

In my imagination I could see could see the the Meggido area being the site of battles between Mongols coming from Central Asia, Crusaders from different crusades and Muslim forces, all of them slaughtering whoever stood in their way. The area changed hands in 947, 1099, 1212, 1229 and 1263; slaughtering Jews and Christians for the glory of Allah or Jesus.

In my prayerful imagination, I could see the armies of Napoleon in 1799 returning from Egypt, taking Gaza and then getting stalled at Acre and failing to capture Mount Tabor. His troops killed many in the unsuccessful siege but his troops lost several thousand men from plague in the failed attempt. He gave up and returned to France to take over as Dictator there, and to being his wars back to Europe.

In my imagination, I could see British General Allenby spilling British and Turkish blood in 1917-18 on his way to fulfill the Balfour Declaration where the British Foreign Secretary made a promise to the Rothschilds to make plans for a Jewish Homeland after the Ottoman Empire was dismantled, AND at the same time making promises to the leaders of the Arab revolt to kill Turks, AND at the same time making concessions to France to help her regain a mideast empire, AND most especially protecting the Financial Treasure and Economic Jewel of the Crown of the Suez Canal. Four different promises, to four different groups, with four different agendas is a recipe for disaster.

In my prayers, I could see the blood of Jews and Arabs on the ground in 1948 and all the years after and was still going on in terror campaigns that we saw in Jerusalem that year. While we were there an Israeli soldier walked off his base and emptied his weapon on a group of Muslims and a Muslim terrorist opened fire on a bus full of Christians and Jews.

In my imagination I could see into the future the vision of the Book of Revelation of Blood of the the last Battle of the Megiddo, called by its Greek name Armageddon. All of history in the area of the Mount of the Transfiguration where followers of Jesus were told to listen to a Prince of Peace: To love their neighbor and to even love the enemy. Imagine Loving an enemy!

When I was writing this reflection, I took a break and checked my e-mail. I subscribe to a blog of quotes from the writings of Frederick Buechner. He was saying what I was trying to say on Wednesday was from his Magnificent Defeat:

THE LOVE FOR equals is a human thing—of friend for friend, brother for brother. It is to love what is loving and lovely. The world smiles.

The love for the less fortunate is a beautiful thing—the love for those who suffer, for those who are poor, the sick, the failures, the unlovely. This is compassion, and it touches the heart of the world.

The love for the more fortunate is a rare thing—to love those who succeed where we fail, to rejoice without envy with those who rejoice, the love of the poor for the rich, of the black man for the white man. The world is always bewildered by its saints.

And then there is the love for the enemy—love for the one who does not love you but mocks, threatens, and inflicts pain. The tortured's love for the torturer. This is God's love. It conquers the world.

Now, what does that have to do with the Gospel reading from Matthew of the parable about the servants and their Talents? Now, of course you know that the word Talent refers to a measurement of money rather than a attribute of a person of a particular skill like a Talent for Music. It would be intellectually dishonest and lazy for me to confuse in your mind a measurement of money with a skill; but I will do it anyway. A parable is a an extended metaphor to teach a certain quality and the quality is in the twist at the end; sort of like a punchline of a joke, For example in the Good Samaritan Parable, which teaches that your neighbor you are to love includes your enemy.

Another point of a parable is in the use of outrageous quantities. As in the shepherd who leaves 99 sheep alone to search for the one lost. In this parable, the quantity is in the value of a Talent. A Talent is not a coin but a weight of measure. A day's wage was a denarius of silver and a Talent is the weight of silver equal to 6000 day's wages, or twenty years. Five Talents would be 100 years wages, three Talents would be sixty years wages, and the poor schmuck who got only one Talent would get the equivalent of 20 years wages. Do the math and figure out your lowest paying year of earning and figure out how much we are talking about.

In this parable the metaphor for God is the Landowner, the servants are you and me, the Talents are the attributes that we have been given by God in our creation, which we have either used or hoarded. What are the things that God calls us to use in living a faith filled life? Is Jesus saying that the point of a faith filled life making lots of money? Or is it to bring peace, do justice, love mercy, share hope, and forgive outrageously. I look at my life and I realize that I have been blessed with many talents and gifts. As I look at quantity called for in the parable I figure I am more than a couple decades behind in bringing peace, doing justice, loving mercy, sharing hope and forgiving outrageously in every day of my life.

How are you doing in spending your Talents?

But, What Do I Get Out Of This?

O.K, I get it! Just get off my back.

It has gone past a point to belabor

I'm supposed to love my neighbor,

About who I don't even know jack!

What do I get out of finding a rhyme

with strangers? Where's my profit,

besides making happy some prophet,

mumbling Aramaic in another time?

The problem is he keeps on speaking,

as if he knows me right now and here,

as if he expects my own heart to hear,

and then respond to neighbor seeking.

Speaking in the space between words,

whispers love through all the worlds.

It's Not About You!

Reflection/Poem for the 26^th Sunday After Pentecost              Thomas E Wilson, Guest Celebrant

Church of the Holy Trinity, Hertford, NC                                 November 5, 2023

Joshua 3:7-17      Psalm 107:1-7, 33-37      1 Thessalonians 2:9-13     Matthew 23:1-12

It's Not About You!

One of the themes in the lessons for today has to do with the avoidance of arrogance. In the Hebrew Testament lesson, “The Lord said to Joshua, “This day I will begin to exalt you in the sight of all Israel, so that they may know that I will be with you as I was with Moses.” Notice the exaltation has nothing to do with Joshua's innate special talents but because it is a sign that the power comes from the power greater than ourselves.

In the Epistle for today, Paul is writing to the people in Thessaloniki, not to brag about what he has done, which was considerable, but to give thanks for what the Spirit of the Living Christ is doing among them. Paul did have a high opinion of himself, but he avoided arrogance because he understood his own brokenness and God's grace redeeming all.

In the Gospel lesson, Jesus warns the disciples not to be filled with the arrogance of the teachers of the law “The greatest among you will be your servant. All who exalt themselves will be humbled, and all who humble themselves will be exalted.”

The warnings about arrogance are not just a Christian teaching but was universal. Greek comedies had the central theme of laughing at the vanity of the characters and Greek Tragedies had as their central theme the the downfall and punishment of those who in their arrogance saw themselves as the equals of the Gods.

In the Roman Empire, the Commanders of the Armies who were victorious in the field were welcomed back for a Triumph in Rome. They were allowed to drive their chariot through the streets of Rome leading their prisoners and booty to the exultation of the crowd. However, behind each Commander celebrating his victory in the chariot stood a slave, holding a Laurel Crown over the head of the Victor, with the slave instructed to say over and over again, “Memento Mori”, “Remember, you are a mortal.”

In the Diocese this last week there were two ordinations to the Priesthood. I had wanted to attend but I was still struggling with the remnants of Covid. There is a moment in the Ordination service where the Bishop lays hands on the kneeling Ordinand, and the other Priests present gather around and lay their own hands in prayer on the Ordinand; it looks like for all the world like a football huddle. The Priests who were honest knew how difficult it is to be a Priest and they were saying by their participation that you can't make it by yourself.

One of the things that happens to people who become ordained is that many of us had seen the same movies about Ordained folk whose message is always the same: just have to work harder, and if you just work harder and keep the faith you will survive; not only survive but thrive. There is the 1941 Movie “One Foot In Heaven” where Frederic March plays the Methodist Pastor who survives and against all odds thrives and ends the movie having the entire town rush out into the streets to sing “The Church is One Foundation” while he plays high up in the New Carillon. There is the the 1944 “Keys of the Kingdom” with Gregory Peck who is able to triumph and become beloved as a Roman Catholic Priest in China. There is the 1950 Joel McCrea vehicle: Stars In My Crown” as the young preacher who is able to tame a small Southern town. There is the 1955 “A Man Called Peter” with Richard Todd as Presbyterian Pastor Peter Marshall who packs churches and becomes a symbol of America at its best. There was the 1963 epic The Cardinal with Tom Tryon as the good looking version of Father What a Waste fighting singlehandedly Nazis and prejudice. Then when I went to seminary some the seminarians and wives would gather to see Richard Chamberlain wrestle with temptation in the 1983 mini series The Thornbirds.

I thought back on my own Ordination to the Priesthood. Professionally I was doing well but my marriage was falling apart and my daughter was having a rough time. I stuffed everything down and worked harder to be a success. I kept up a facade of looking like I was in charge. I put on a show of confidence and it seemed to work for people who did not look deep enough.

There was one person who who looked deeper. I had met her two weeks after I was Ordained to the Diaconate in Western North Carolina and moved to Virginia to take up a position. When I was ordained a Deacon, there was nothing humble about me. I knew the church was lucky to have me. I had worked darn hard to get there! I was the hero of my story and the Episcopal Church was lucky to have me. This person was very unimpressed when she met me, and I was less than impressed with her. She worked for the Diocese and saw my arrogance and refused to attend my ordination to the Priesthood. I think if she had attended, she might have stood up to object to my ordination at the appropriate time in the service when the Bishop asks if anyone has an objection.

A year later, I took a position of Rector of a Church in another town. I was very good at Preaching and ministering but my marriage ended in divorce and I submitted my resignation because I had let them down. The Vestry told me to put away my resignation and they accepted me as the broken person that I was. They did not excuse me, they did not forgive me; they just accepted the fact.

I remember attending the installation of of a Rector when a neighboring Priest stood up to object to the Rector at the time for what he saw as a moral failure that the search committee had overlooked. The Bishop stopped the service and took the complainant and the Rector designate back into the sacristy and we all waited. The Bishop came out and allowed the service to continue. I spent the rest of the service, breathing a sigh of relief that my early years as ordained did not have someone call me out on how shallow I had been and how often I had not honored God's call to forgive abundantly.

I want to give excuses for my arrogance. But there is no excuse since I was so filled with my pride and my fears that my pride would be exposed. C. S. Lewis wrote about the difference between forgiving and excusing.

“I find that when I think I am asking God to forgive me I am often in reality (unless I watch myself very carefully) asking Him to do something quite different. I am asking him not to forgive me but to excuse me. But there is all the difference in the world between forgiving and excusing. Forgiveness says, “Yes, you have done this thing, but I accept your apology; I will never hold it against you and everything between us two will be exactly as it was before.” But excusing says, “I see that you couldn’t help it or didn’t mean it; you weren’t really to blame.” If one was not really to blame then there is nothing to forgive. In that sense forgiveness and excusing are almost opposite.

As is my practice, I try to write a poem to focus on what I think the Holy is asking me to see before I start writing sermon text . One of the people being Ordained this last week was a colleague on the Outer Banks. I wrote a poem for that occasion. The poem took me to remember my own ordination almost 40 years ago. Lots of prancing around, but I knew I was being open to a whole new way of believing on having a place in the heart of God. I saw in him the desire that burned in my heart to be God's servant and wanted him to avoid the sin of arrogance that I struggled through.

It's Not About You!

You are not the Center of the Universe,

You're catching a ride passing through;

God knows where what you are to do,

Be free to take as a blessing or a curse!

Funniest costumers you've ever seen,

Prance around to make you feel swell;

Egos expands to either heaven or hell,

But now has a glimmer of hope's been.

There is a power greater than ourselves,

Being unleashed into a new imagination

Of your place in a Heart of God's station,

Blowing religious dust off souls' shelves.

The Holy is touching your tongue

To sing the songs that our Jesus sung.

Already And Not Yet

 This is the reflection and Poem I would have given but  my body had other plans and I took the Covid home Test and  it told me I had Covid so I had to cancel being around people for awhile . The theme is how we live into "Already and Not Yet" places roles and identities in our lives. It actually fits since I was ignorant how my body was moving from looking fairly healthy to be caught up to being a danger to others.

Reflection and Poem for 25th Sunday after Pentecost                 Thomas Wilson , Guest Celebrant

Episcopal Church of the Holy Trinity, Hertford, NC                    October 30, 2023

Already and Not Yet

On most Friday evenings at 5:00 for the last couple months, I enter into a habit of meeting with two long time friends for a evening of old men talking openly and honestly with each other. One was a member of the search committee that came to visit me in Georgia. I became Rector of his church for 15 years and his friend for 20 years. The other is a former Roman Catholic Priest who left the order to get married and I met him trying to persuade him to become an Episcopal Priest. I failed, but he is still a faithful attending member of the church where I was once a Rector and now no longer attend regularly to give the New Rector plenty of breathing space. We come together as three old men whose wives are no longer with us. We talk about things like; “How to fix the right Martini, or Manhattan”, “What kind of hopes for the future of our world, our country, our state, our community and our lives together and separately.” We come to pay attention to each other, to affirm who we are without jobs that define us.

Last week we were meeting at my home. That day I had gone to the grocery store, made some guacamole, ran a load of laundry, vacuumed the unit, dusted and polished the furniture, took out the trash, and walked the dog for the 3^rd time (he is an old man as well). However, when 5:00 came, the doorbell rang and I found myself in the “already and not yet” time.

They came in and took their places in the living room while we talked over the kitchen counter and I put together the food on the soon groaning card table. Took the glasses out of the freezer, the gin out of the refrigerator, shook, stirred, added the olives or cherries and delivered the drinks to their hands. The “already and not yet” time took a little less than 10 minutes and then I joined them by sitting in one of the chairs in the living room. As I sipped the first Martini, those 10 minutes hit me a a metaphor for the lessons for today that I had been looking at that morning. That is what it feels like to be in the “already and not yet” time of every moment in faith.

In the Hebrew Testament lesson for today Moses has come to the Promised Land, and he has reached the already and not yet end of his journey because he will not enter the Promised Land in this life.

In the Psalm for today the Psalmist sings the already and not yet song of the Faithful to the God who is so close and yet can seem so far away:

13 Return, O Lord; how long will you tarry? *
be gracious to your servants.

14 Satisfy us by your loving-kindness in the morning; *
so shall we rejoice and be glad all the days of our life.

15 Make us glad by the measure of the days that you afflicted us *
and the years in which we suffered adversity.

16 Show your servants your works *
and your splendor to their children.

17 May the graciousness of the Lord our God be upon us; *
prosper the work of our hands;
prosper our handiwork.

In the Epistle Paul, the Pharisee Christian Persecutor who made the journey to be an Evangelist and teacher of the Faith to the people of the Church in Thessaloniki is giving up his past, his present and future, already and not yet, on his journey to his death in Rome.

In the Gospel lesson, Jesus is meeting with the Pharisees. The Pharisee group was made up by the most faithful and distinguished men in the community. These were highly religious people. Yet, they could not lay their religion to the side, in order to listen to the already and not yet Good News of the Gospel.

Every prayer that we make is an exercise in the already and not yet. We begin by beginning to visualize what we want. Then we ground that vision in the promises of God. Suppose, we begin to pray for peace among all of God's children. We stop and visualize those who are fighting against each other and see them as members of families, as full of fear and anger. If it helps, look for pictures on line. In imagination we ask that some of that fear and pain can be given to us and pray for that healing within that person and within us. You might want to take John O'Donahue's poem into your quiet space and read that as a vocal prayer as a beginning and not yet exercise that peace begins within each one of us:

Blessing for Peace

As the fever of day calms towards twilight
May all that is strained in us come to ease.
We pray for all who suffered violence today,
May an unexpected serenity surprise them.
For those who risk their lives each day for peace,
May their hearts glimpse providence at the heart of history.
That those who make riches from violence and war
Might hear in their dreams the cries of the lost.
That we might see through our fear of each other
A new vision to heal our fatal attraction to aggression.
That those who enjoy the privilege of peace
Might not forget their tormented brothers and sisters.
That the wolf might lie down with the lamb,
That our swords be beaten into ploughshares
And no hurt or harm be done
Anywhere along the holy mountain.

This coming week we will have a service in honor of the Christian Life and Death of Dick Carlson Jr, your fellow Parishioner who has, already and not yet completed, his journey on Earth and in the arms of God. It is time also for this church, already and not yet to mourn the loss of a good faithful man in the church and to help his family mourn during this already and not yet time.

The thing about mourning is that it take a longer time than we wish. My wife died a little over four months ago. She started getting seriously sick, five years ago, shortly after I was a couple months away from the Mandatory retirement age for being a Rector of the church which I had served for fifteen years. As she was getting weaker, I stopped helping out churches out of town for six months before she died. She was on Hospice for a little less than a week. We had been in Already and not yet time for five years and I am still in it, and will be for quite awhile.

My guests who were coming to my home nine days ago shared the experience of the already and not yet journey on what it is like to be a widower and we treasured the love given to us in that journey. We learned that love is a gift freely given or withheld, one day at a time; it is never earned.

This church is in the process of the already and not yet searching for a new Rector. You began by saying good bye to the old Rector and thanking him for what he was able to do and to forgive him for what he was not able to do. I have been ordained for almost 37 and a half years served as: 1) Assistant in one church, 2)Rector in three and 3) helped out in a bunch of others in the five years since I reached the mandatory retirement age and 4) been married to Pat for 34 years, For all of those days, weeks , months and years; I have received thanks and forgiveness, both of which I needed and desired. Each day of those 37 and a half years I was already and not yet a Faithful Christian.

Martin Luther said it best, we live “simul justus et peccador”, or in English “simultaneously justified and yet a sinner” He explained “thus a Christian man (by which he means person) is righteous and a sinner at the same time, holy and profane, an enemy of God and a child of God. None of the sophists will admit this paradox because they do not understand the true meaning of justification.” By this, I think he means justification is never earned; rather it is only conferred by the Power Greater than ourselves.

Already and Not Yet

We aren't physically in the same room,

yet our dialogue isn't really monologue,

while you're not here; least there's dog

here to substitute to lighten the gloom.

It's a little like when I converse in prayer,

and the Almighty sure doesn't keep up

the Big Side, or at least say like, a “Yup”

every once in a while to say She's there.

I dream about a walking future with you,

where you point out what I might miss,

because you always pay attention to this

or that bird that moment overhead flew.

I keep wanting to hold on to you tight,

'cause letting go just doesn't seem right.