(may be printed out)
Sunday, May 31, 2020
Sunday, May 31, 2020
Pentecost is happening all the time. May 31, 2020. The Rev. Kathleen M. Sturges
Corinthians 12:3b-13
John 7:37-39
Today is Pentecost! And it’s a big day in the Church. Officially known as a Principal Feast Day, it’s more commonly referred to as the birthday of the Church. And if we were all together at church today you know what we would have? Cake! Cake to celebrate the day that is recorded in our reading from the second chapter of Acts where ten days after Jesus ascends into heaven his followers are all gathered together and all of a sudden there comes this sound like the sound of a violent wind. Then flames like tongues of fire appear and rest on them somehow. And they are filled with the Holy Spirit. Everyone begins to speak in other languages spreading the news of God. The ruckus draws others to gather. And then Peter speaks, proclaiming the good news to all. And by the end of that day 3,000 people are added to their numbers. The Church is born.
But when I say the Church is born I don’t mean that we are celebrating the birth of a religious institution. Rather we celebrate the coming alive of the people of God through the indwelling of the Holy Spirit. For the Church, in the truest sense of the word, is the community of believers. On that first day of Pentecost there was no organization. There was no building. What there was was just a whole bunch of people - imperfect people for sure - who were doing their best to say yes to God, put their trust in Christ, and be open to the Spirit. That was the church then. That is the church now. For now is the time where the Spirit is teaching us what it means to be the Church when we can’t actually go to church.
Although the book of Acts records the coming of the Spirit in pretty spectacular ways that’s not to say that that’s the only way, or even the primary way, that the Spirit comes. Actually, more often than not, she comes to us as Jesus came, that is, in the ordinary, the mundane, the daily ways of life. For Pentecost is not a one time event nor a once a year celebration. Pentecost is happening all the time. Anytime we seek to love, to serve or to sacrifice, the Spirit is moving and Pentecost is happening. In times when we operate from a place of compassion, connectedness, courage or calm, that’s the Spirit at work and Pentecost is happening. Whenever we let God’s river of life flow out from our hearts, as Jesus puts it in the gospel of John, that is the Spirit in action and Pentecost is happening.
And when Pentecost is happening it is always for the common good, as Paul tells us in 1 Corinthians. How can we be the Church when we can’t actually go to church? We can be the Church by letting the Spirit flow in and through us, empowering us to engage in acts of love for the well-being of others - by praying for the world, giving generously, advocating for justice, reaching out to others. Even staying at home, keeping our distance, and wearing masks are ways that the Spirit is moving in us to serve the common good - to love our neighbor as ourselves. This is how we can be the Church in the world of today.
Yet as we celebrate the birthday of the Church in the world of today, sadly, there is no cake, but there still is plenty that is sweet - like gathering together online for this service, hearing the voices of our choir members, seeing pictures of Pentecosts past, listening to Daniel play the organ, and being reminded over and over again of our hope that never fails. God’s Spirit is still moving, still blowing, still lighting us on fire, doing new things in us and through us for the love of God and for the sake of common good. As much as I miss our church buildings - or what I really miss is being with you in those buildings - I thank God that the Church is not a building. We are the Church, born of the Spirit and continually being renewed by the Spirit. So it is in that spirit that I wish you a very happy birthday. And as we celebrate, let us we pray come, Holy Spirit, come!
Wednesday, May 27, 2020
Tuesday, May 26, 2020
Sunday, May 24, 2020
Heaven in bodily form. May 24, 2020. The Rev. David M. Stoddart
Ascension Sunday
I have always struggled a bit with images of the Ascension. All the artwork poses a challenge. I’m not talking about artistic quality, which I don’t critique, but something else. Let me try to show you what I mean (see images). Some depictions of the Ascension are very majestic; others are quite simple; some of them look very pious; others are quite stylized; some artists view the event from above Jesus’ head; others just show his feet; there are some very ethereal images of the event; and some vergeon being abstract. But no matter how you portray it or what perspective you take, you are left with the same basic fact: there’s a body floating in the air. Depending on what your state of mind is, that could be awe-inspiring, surreal, unbelievable, or even comic, but there is no escaping that fact: in the Ascension, a physical body goes up into the sky.
We might want to think that this is just metaphorical. After all, we all know heaven is not up in the clouds somewhere. But the crucial point here, and what makes all Ascension art so distinctive and challenging, is that the New Testament won’t let us view this as a purely symbolic event. Both the Gospel of Luke and the book of Acts insist that when Jesus enters into that ineffable state of union with his Father that we call “heaven,” he does so with a body. It’s a transformed and glorified body that can walk through closed doors and disappear at will, but it’s still a body that can eat and drink, a body that still bears the scars of crucifixion. The Bible just won’t let us spiritualize this event. Jesus is not a spirit or a ghost: he is embodied, which is to say, he is human. It is a fully human being that enters into heaven and is united with God.
In fact, if I were to give a brief definition of “Christ,” I would say that Christ is the union of the divine and the human, the marriage of spirit and matter, perfect wholeness. Jesus the Christ embodies that union, that wholeness. And in doing so, he gives us an icon, an image, of what we are called to be.
This is often lost in some popular views of religion, which in this country are frequently tainted with puritanism: God only loves “spiritual” things; the body is dirty or bad or irrelevant; and the goal of faith is to escape this material world and become purely spiritual beings not weighed down by earthly bodies. But the Ascensions tells us — no, it shows us — that is not true. The goal of our existence is not to stop being human, but to become fully human, like Jesus: embodied creatures infused with the Spirit and the love of the living God. You’ll notice that when we say the Creed, we don’t profess belief in the immortality of the soul: we proclaim the resurrection of the body.
The ramifications of this are many and profound, but let me just focus on one: life in this material world is sacred. Physical existence does not prevent us from experiencing God: physical existence is rather the means by which we will experience God. So I want to invite you to do an experiment. One day this week, try to see everything you do as holy: taking a shower, making lunch, typing on your computer, putting on a mask when you go to the store, doing someone a favor, everything. Try remembering that God’s love flows through all of it. And that’s true even when we suffer or fail: in every cough and fever, in every harsh word spoken in anger, in every selfish act, I invite you to see God’s love seeking to heal and forgive and renew. You don’t have to do it perfectly, but for just one day, see the world like Christ.
Jesus ascended into heaven in bodily form so that we could see heaven in bodily form. Our calling is not to escape from the physical world to get to God, but to find God in the physical world and live God-infused lives, like Jesus. In fact, there is no better way to follow Jesus the Christ, who even now has a human body as he reigns in heaven.
Wednesday, May 20, 2020
Tuesday, May 19, 2020
What already is. May 17, 2020. The Rev. Kathleen M. Sturges
John 14:15-23
A few weeks ago at our Wednesday online WAC gathering one of our parishioners, Jim Hart, shared a story about his family history that stuck with me. Jim’s grandparents, Veronica and John Hart, were immigrants from Hungary who had made a home in Ohio when the Spanish Flu hit in 1918. Veronica died that year. John died of the flu two years later leaving Jim’s father, Anthony, an orphan at the age of 10.
Jesus says, I will not leave you orphaned. He says it to his disciples on the night of his betrayal, but he is not just speaking to them alone but to the 10 year old boy, Anthony, and to all of us, across the ages, who have experienced the feeling of being orphaned. Times where we have felt abandoned or left behind. Times where our sense of stability or security is lost. Times where our personal world has been changed forever. In any and all such times - times like we are experiencing now - Jesus tells us, I will not leave you orphaned. That is the promise which is fulfilled by the coming of the Spirit who not only is with us but actually in us - abiding. dwelling, connecting us to God’s presence.
I will not leave you orphaned. Those are words of comfort, but also words of challenge. The challenge of love - the challenge to keep Jesus’ commandments, which is really only just one. I give you a new commandment, he says to his disciples a little bit before our reading begins, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another (John 13:34). Keeping that commandment to love others and, what sometimes is even more of a challenge, to let others love us, is the way that we can fully experience the promise that we are not left orphaned. But keeping the commandment of love does not earn us heavenly gold stars nor does it make God love us more than we already are. Rather keeping the commandment of love helps us to get in touch with what already is. For as we practice loving - both in the giving and receiving of love - we open ourselves up to the reality that always is but sometimes, particularly in stressful situations we forget, that is, that we are intimately connected to one another and to God. If you’re not feeling that right now be mindful of keeping Jesus’ commandment. Reach out to someone in love and let someone love you. The more we practice doing that the more we will know the mystery of which Jesus speaks, that I am in my Father, and you in me, and I in you. It’s a continuous loop, a never ending flow of love and connection in which we live. It is the promise that no matter our circumstances we will not be left orphaned.
I pray that young Anthony, even in the midst of his great loss, had some sense that he was never completely alone. From what I heard, following the death of his parents, Anthony was taken in by his extended family and was raised in their homes until adulthood. He was not left orphaned. And neither are we. That promise is ours to claim with love. And as we do Jesus has another promise for us, Those who love me will keep my word, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them. Which sounds to me as if we all need to be about making some extra room in our homes because God and Christ through the gift of the Spirit are moving in!
Sunday, May 17, 2020
Wednesday, May 13, 2020
Tuesday, May 12, 2020
Ocean of mercy. May 10, 2020 The Rev. David M. Stoddart
Acts 7:55-60; 1 Peter 2:2-10
What does
it feel like to encounter the Risen Christ? In the New Testament, Jesus meets
people in various ways after his resurrection: standing outside the tomb,
appearing suddenly in a locked room, walking on the road to Emmaus, making
breakfast for his friends on the beach. But there is a common thread that runs
through all the resurrection stories, an experience present in all of them. And
we can see it in our lesson from Acts today. Right as they prepare to kill
Stephen, he sees the heavens opened and Jesus standing at the right hand of
God. It’s an incredible vision, perhaps more awe-inspiring than the other
resurrection appearances, but it conveys the same core experience. Stephen
expresses it as they hurl stones at him to bludgeon him to death: Lord, do
not hold this sin against them. What does it feel like to encounter the
Risen Christ? It feels like mercy.
Mercy is
always a sign that Jesus is present. When people encounter Jesus, they
experience mercy. Tax collectors, prostitutes, the Samaritan woman, Zacchaeus,
the woman caught in adultery, the sinner who anoints Jesus’ feet — all of them
are embraced by the mercy of Christ. And it’s not like Jesus overlooks or
ignores their sin: he sees it, and loves them anyway. Some of you have heard of
Bryan Stevenson, an attorney who has worked tirelessly on behalf of people who
have been unjustly condemned to death. He wrote an outstanding book entitled Just
Mercy, which people in our racial reconciliation ministry have read, and I
strongly recommend it. At one point in that book he says, “Each of us is more
than the worst thing we’ve ever done.” Each one of us is more than the worst
thing we have ever done. That’s a Christ statement; that’s the way Jesus views
us. He sees the sin in all of us, but he also sees the beauty and the desire
for goodness in all of us. Yes, he forgives, but his greatest act of mercy is
seeing us whole, realizing we are more than our sins, more than the worst thing
we’ve ever done. We are God’s beloved, cherished even as we are.
Jesus
expresses that mercy most completely on the cross, an outpouring of pure
unconditional love. And it is a distinctive feature of his resurrection
appearances as well. Stephen is so engulfed in mercy that he pours it out on
his murderers, forgiving them even as Jesus forgave those who crucified him.
But it doesn't stop there. Mercy is the hallmark of the early Church. First
Peter today speaks of that ragtag group of those first believers in exalted
terms: You are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, God’s own
people. That’s an amazing description, but it gets even more amazing.
Because what makes them so special? Power? Virtue? Piety? No. The author says
it clearly: Once you were not a people, but now you are God’s people; once
you had not received mercy, but now you have received mercy.
When
people look at the Christian Church today, do they see mercy? When people look
at Church of Our Saviour, do they experience mercy? When people look at you and
me, do they feel mercy? God knows the world needs more mercy. In that spirit,
today I want to share with you a prayer and a practice. The prayer is ancient,
one of the oldest and most widely prayed of all Christians prayers. It is the
Jesus prayer. The full version is “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of the living God,
have mercy on me, a sinner.” But the shorter version that I pray is simply,
“Lord Jesus, have mercy.” That has been at the core of my contemplative prayer
practice for many years, but whether we pray it a lot or just occasionally, its
power resides in its simple and pure expression of the Gospel. Because Jesus
does have mercy. When I pray that prayer over and over, I am made more aware
that we swim in an ocean of mercy. As hard as life can be and as badly as we
all can fail, God’s loving mercy embraces us at all times and will do so
forever. And it’s not just that I feel that mercy filling me — I feel it
flowing through me. Mercy, like love, cannot be hoarded: it must be shared. We
experience mercy the more we show mercy.
And that
leads me to the practice. This week, every week, show mercy to someone else. Be
kind to someone who doesn’t deserve it. Forgive someone who needs forgiveness.
Respond to anger with gentleness; respond to malice with love. Just do it. The
prayer and the practice are powerful. To pray often, “Lord Jesus, have mercy”
and then to show mercy freely and generously will slowly but surely change us
and change the world. Certainly the more we do it, the more we will see for
ourselves the Risen Christ, and, just as importantly, the more other people
will see the Risen Christ in us.
Lord
Jesus, have mercy.
Sunday, May 10, 2020
Saturday, May 9, 2020
COOS Weekly Online Worship & Gatherings
COOS Weekly Online Worship
and Other Opportunities
SUNDAYS
COOS Children's Sunday Time 9:00am via Zoom(Meeting ID 210-169-141)
COOS Sunday Worship10:00am via Zoom (Meeting ID 987-9591-7421)
This service will also be available on our website later that day.
(Meeting ID 816-6470-0273)
TUESDAYS
THURSDAYS
Men's Bible Study 7:30am via Zoom (Meeting ID 931-059-351)
(Meeting ID 849-793-073)
FRIDAYS
Compline 8:30pm via Zoom (Meeting ID 348-208-131)
Passwords to the above online offerings are available
by emailing office@cooscville.org.
Wednesday, May 6, 2020
Sunday, May 3, 2020
Abundant life even in the midst of a pandemic. May 3, 2020. The Rev. Kathleen M. Sturges
Psalm
23, John 10:1-10
What’s your favorite comfort food? I had
to choose I’d say mine is popcorn. And I’ll tell you I’ve been eating a lot of
popcorn these last few weeks. Perhaps you’ve also found yourself indulging more
often in some favorite food? And maybe, like me, you’ve also discovered that
along with comfort food, you’re also craving comfortable clothes. I’ve been
wearing a particular pair of socks that are super soft on the inside most days
now. Then there’s soothing music that I find myself turning to more often along
with story lines in books and on screens that bring solace. I suspect I’m not
the only one. At this moment of time I think we all need to find ways to be
gentle with ourselves and gentle with others because this is hard. Each one of
us is living with an extra degree of stress, anxiety, sadness, and loss right
now. And we are also feeling the weight that comes from knowing that a great
many people across the globe are suffering from this pandemic in more ways than
we can imagine. No wonder we are seeking comfort.
Which makes it particularly good and
right that the psalm appointed for today is the 23rd Psalm. It certainly ranks
high on the list of all-time comforting Bible passages. And of all the psalms
it’s probably the best known for its poetry,
The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want, and most beloved for its promise
that wherever we go or in whatever situation in which we find ourselves -
whether that be green pastures or the darkest of valleys, we are not alone. The
Lord our shepherd is always with us - providing for us, caring for us, loving
us. It’s a beautiful picture that this psalm paints - but let’s be careful not
to sentimentalize it too much. Yes, psalm 23 offers great comfort and hope, but
it in no way provides an escape.
Now it probably doesn’t take a genius to
figure out that Psalm 23 comes right after Psalm 22. We aren’t so familiar with
that psalm except for, perhaps, the first verse which goes, “My God, my God,
why have you forsaken me?” If that sounds familiar it’s because in the gospel of
Matthew we hear Jesus cry out those words from the cross. Words that launch us
into Psalm 22, a psalm of lament. Verse after verse, line after line that psalm
paints a heart-wrenching picture of great suffering. It’s not pretty. And worst
of all is that God seems to be completely absent.
Surely the reason this psalm of lament is
in our scripture is because it gives voice to the very real experience most, if
not all of us, have had at one time or another - that is, the agony of feeling
completely alone in our pain. Yet it is into this reality that the 23rd psalm
speaks. Not to erase the pain or to deny the suffering, but to proclaim that
the life of faith is not an either/or proposition. It’s not that life is either
all good or bad, happy or sad, whole or broken. Rather it’s a both/and. We can
be fully in touch with the reality of suffering while at the same time
authentically experiencing an enfolding love that embraces us in the midst of
that reality. Psalm 23 makes the radical claim that even when we might feel
like crying, “My God, my God why have you forsaken me?” even then we are not
abandoned, we are not alone. The Lord is
my shepherd, I shall not want.
Jesus, in the gospel of John, tells us
that he is the very incarnation of this shepherd, the good shepherd. And that
the whole reason the good shepherd comes to us is so that we “may have life,
and have it abundantly." Abundant life even in the midst of a pandemic.
Because again, life is not about either/or but both/and. There is great suffering
in our world right now AND there is, just as surely, abundance.
So without denying one or the other, but
holding both as true, I invite you to take note of where the abundance is in
your life right now. Where might you be finding meaning or connection, gratitude
or generosity, joy or blessing in these days? For the abundant life in Christ
did not come to a halt when our world shut down. No. The Good Shepherd comes to
us with abundant life even now. So look and see. Taste and feel. Know and trust
that hope, that comfort, that good news. The
Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.
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