Sermon Notes
Is there only one way to be a Christian? Answering the question, “YES!” is attractive. You see having a sense of certainty provides a foundation upon which you can build a fortress of protection. A narrow definition of faith beats back fear of vulnerability. A fortress closes its doors to change, self-reflection, and discovery. That foundation, however, is built on sand because it requires twisting Jesus’ teachings.
My baptism calls me to follow in Jesus’ steps. I constantly fall short. Another witness I could emulate, according to Scripture and my Roman Catholic upbringing, is Mary, Jesus’ mother. Believe me, I still fall short. In Scripture and tradition, Simon Peter also rises to the top. He is worthy of imitation. This is a relief because I can get close to Simon Peter’s character. He was dedicated to Jesus, but misunderstood the teachings, was fearful, disloyal, and he rejected the cross.
In Matthew’s Gospel, this is the third week that we have heard portions of Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount. In this gospel, Jesus seems to have left the crowd behind and has gone up the mountain with his disciples for an intimate setting for this infamous sermon. […] And in today’s portion of the Sermon, Jesus dedicates a lengthy conversation to reconciliation. Jesus does something interesting in today’s verses.
We are the light of the world: Christians and their congregations can illuminate salvation and peace and sanctuary and love for the globe. Jesus is empowering! Like a city on a hill or a beacon on the shore, Trinity exists to be a powerful witness that God’s reign on earth has already begun. Jesus, in this passage, is telling his disciples to act flagrantly; display to the world the peace God has granted; be on fire with caring for the poor and outcast, “so that [people outside our faith] may see [our] good works and give glory to [our] Father in heaven (Matt 5:16).”
Discerning the invitation of the Holy Spirit requires introspection. We must know where we are before understanding where we are led. I believe our core identity springs from our published history: Church in the Middle of the Street. That title refers to a time when the original wooden structure on this site was lifted off the foundation and placed in the middle of N. 18th Street making room for the construction of this stone structure. It’s a dramatic image and helps envision our mission in Christ.
Today, we find ourselves in the second week of Epiphany. The season of Epiphany is a reminder to us that Christmas alone is not enough. The birth of Jesus by itself is not enough to establish our theology of what it means to be followers of Christ. Commentator David Toole wrote, “We need more than Christmas, even if we wait patiently for the arrival of the magi. We need to see Jesus walk into the Jordan. We need to see the clouds part. We need to hear the booming voice name Jesus a beloved Son. We need to hear Jesus himself ask us, as he asks Peter and Andrew in our Gospel reading from John, ‘What are you looking for?’”
Regular worship with a loving community of faith sustains our identity as Christ’s own forever in baptism. Whether we were sprinkled, soaked, or dunked as infants or adults, the waters of our baptism folded us into the Body of Christ. And it is the Body of Christ, together, every week that can get us through all the joys and tragedies of life.
Isn’t this glorious! The Cathedral bedecked with greens and joyful red and gold and white? Our Altar Guild put in hours upon hours of prayerful planning to create this lush scene. We hauled nature inside because growing things are inherently sacred. Our God creates and delights in the beautiful chaos of this world.
We did a thing on Friday night. It was a big deal, with lots of clergy, special food, extra music, several pews of Lisa’s family and presenters. We had a big ol’ party, as Bishop Barker said in his sermon. Trinity, we provoked the Holy Spirit’s grace to pour over Lisa Kay Petersen Aguilar and receive her as a priest. Wow!
St. Nicholas was a bishop in the 300’s A.D. who served in the region now called Turkey. His humble leadership, holiness of life, and heroic acts of mercy established his renown during his lifetime. After his death, he was revered as a saint – protector of children and sailors, patron to prisoners, the innocent, maidens, thieves, and even judges.
Can I claim I serve a King? Well, Jesus flipped monarchy upside down. He invites our obedience by his humility. From birth to death our Divine King ceded all his power to us. When we proved rebellious and followed “shepherds who destroy and scatter us” his salvation poured out anyway, with forgiveness, welcome, and love.
Today we celebrate All Saints Sunday: the feast when Christians recall the men, women, and people who shaped the world more closely to Christ’s vision for Creation. In the Anglican tradition, saints are defined by their impact on the power of our faith. We do not require miracles or membership in an Anglican church. Our witnesses are ancient blood martyrs, English Renaissance poets, American Civil Rights leaders, Ugandan bishops, twenty-first century peacemakers, and the spectrum of Christian leaders in-between.
In our Gospel reading today, Zacchaeus is an outcast, and is called a “sinner” because of his occupation as a tax collector. We read about his life-changing encounter with Jesus, and find that Jesus was seeking him all along. This narrative calls the reader – you and I – to look for evidence of the Holy One in our lives, and we, too, will find that Jesus has been seeking us all along.
Nebraska is in a drought. Those of you in the agriculture industry, whether farmers or with farming clients, know this all too well. I’m a city girl and usually out of touch with the needs of the land. The lack of snow this past winter raised the alarm for agriculture folks but delighted me. When dry conditions caused wildfires this year and the smoke put my allergies in overdrive, I was annoyed. When my lawn turned brown, I was irritated. It wasn’t until I heard that drought was declared across our state and would drive up the price of my groceries that I prayed for rain.
Ten lepers come before Jesus begging for mercy. Ten lepers are sent on their way, healed of their affliction “as they went.” One leper returns. Why? Gratitude? Faith? Or because he was once again just a Samaritan, no longer even belonging to a group of outcasts in the group of lepers. We don’t know. All Luke tells us is that he came back, turned to Jesus, praised God.
Psalm 137 is a prayer of lament; a crying out to God from the depths of trauma; a moment when the Psalmist sat defeat, exiled, and begged vengeance on his enemies. Millenia before we talked about social trauma, childhood attachment disorders, or Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, we had the psalms. Along with soaring praise of God’s creation and grace, the psalms describe the pain of war and the generational scars of violence.
Sermon notes for this Sunday are not available, but you may watch The Rev. Dr. Kate Hennessy-Keimig’s sermon here. (Time Stamp 23:55)
