ALL SAINTS' CHURCH

The First Week of Lent

Sun, 19 Feb 2012 15:04:36 -0500

TUESDAY | 21 February

6:00 PM - The Youth Group presents: Shrove Tuesday Pancake Supper - all are invited!

7:00 PM - “Seekers and Skeptics” class

WEDNESDAY | 22 February

Ash Wednesday Services: 7:00 AM, Noon, 7:30 PM (with Choir)

10:15 AM - Bible Study: Second Chronicles

SUNDAY | 26 February

8:00 AM - Eucharist (Rite I)

10:00 AM - Eucharist with Special Music and Great Litany (Rite I)

11:30 AM - First Lenten Soup Lunch and Program

11:30 AM - Lent & Lewis” featuring the work of C.S. Lewis

- Children working on Special projects with Prince Caspian

- Adults study The Great Divorce

* Copies of The Great Divorce can be purchased from Church office for $10

The Anger of Compassion

Sun, 19 Feb 2012 14:46:52 -0500

Who were the Lepers in Biblical times?

Who is the Leper in the story described in Mark’s Gospel?

Or, more to the point, what is the disease described as Leprosy in Mark’s Gospel heard moment ago?

The kind of leprosy we know today came to the West after biblical times.

In the days of Jesus, “leprosy” literally meant something like “scaly or rough,” and could refer to any skin disease like psoriasis, acne, or boils. Given the poverty afflicting most persons in Ancient times, “leprosy” could also simply mean the rough skin associated with hardship, age, sun, and skin-infecting labor.

I’ll never forget the first time I saw Caposis’ Sarcoma, the skin cancer associated with the latter stages of AIDS; it was in the mid-1980s during an internship during seminary at Walter Reed Army Medical Center. I was required to wear gloves to visit; the patient looked at me and spoke the words, “if you have to wear those, I really wish you were not hear; I feel like a Leper.” The gentleman’s friend looked at me and said, “this disease makes me enraged. So does your God for doing nothing about it.” We will deal with this anger in a minute.

But let us move back to the Gospel of Mark.

In a pre-scientific time, the fear of contagion would have made people reluctant to have contact with anything which may have caused them to suffer or-and especially this—be excluded from society.

Thus, “rough and scaly” or “leper” is more a metaphor for those cast out from Ancient Near Eastern circles of acceptance and those they avoid contact with.

Such explains several well-known and inexplicable stories of avoidance: The beaten and robbed man in the story of the Good Samaritan; the woman with the flow of blood; the woman who crashed the dinner party in the home of Simon the Pharisee; those originally note invited to the great banquet given by the King; the Samaritan woman at the well, alone.

They were all—well—Lepers. They were all rough and scaly. They were all outcast.

Jesus was moved when the Leper called out to him.

The original meaning of the phrase here “moved with pity” is poignant.

It best be translated “The Anger of Compassion.”

The word, compassion means, “to suffer with.”

Jesus identified with the man in heart; he did not “pity” as feel sorry for him. He “suffered with him” to the point of anger on his behalf.

Anger at what? His condition? His illness?

Or, is the Anger of Jesus directed at his own society and his own religion that was betraying the God of Israel—the God of the Exodus, the God of the Outcast, the God of Welcome and Hospitality.

Was his anger that of the Prophets?

That is one of the titles for Jesus and Christian tradition; Prophet.

Prophets get angry. The great Old Testament scholar Abraham Joshua Heschel once said that God is always “raging” in the words of a genuine prophet.

Jesus got angry; He took a bullwhip to those in the temple who were turning it into the 30 pieces of silver that would eventually betray him.

He got angry with the disciples when they did not get his message.

But he especially got angry with those who used their power to exclude and abuse others—especially in the name of religion. I return to this in a second.

And Jesus demonstrates genuine anger—here After he heals the inflicted man. He sternly told the Leper to “go show himself to the Priests, do what Moses commanded—as a testimony to them.”

“As a testimony to them.” “Yes,” says Jesus to the Leper—“go and do the prescribed thing for purity and cleaning in Ancient Israel…and take your healed body—get in the face of the clergy and leaders of religion— and demand that you be restored.”

The origin of a church I served, an African-American congregation, came from a demand that the white church of which they were a part set aside a specific graveyard for burial. They did this because their own dead were not welcomed in the white church graveyard but thrown into unmarked potters graves.

The Bishop of the Diocese at that time grew angry with that church. He not only demanded that they build the graveyard. He demanded that this church build a mission congregation for the Black Church which eventually became St. Philip’s Church. He did this not out of pity for the black Episcopalian Christians.. He did this for justice and accountability. He did this for the sake of restoration of a people to full inclusion in the Christian Community.

But does not Jesus call Anger a sin?

He does not.

He terms behaviors, resulting from anger and uncontrolled rage directed at our equals, the vulnerable, our families, or member of the Christian community, which diminish and exclude—sin.

Yes, uncontrolled and inappropriately expressed Anger kills body and soul.

He says that to NURSE Anger—the original phrase in Matthew’s Gospel Sermon on the Mount—whoever is angry with a brother or sister—is a sin.

Yes, the puss and poison of unexpressed, repressed anger and rage, the pillage of passive-aggression, the power of resentment and cold shoulder of hate kills body and soul.

But, throughout the New Testament, the incarnate God, Jesus the Christ is akin to the God speaking through the prophets of old, including the Prophet Elisha—who identifies with all beaten down by illness, beaten down by life—and especially beaten down by those who use religion in the service of injustice, abuse of power and exclusion.

In a few minutes, Peter Travers will speak of a prophetic President, on this, the anniversary of his birthday; this President was moved with the Anger of Compassion against the spread of slavery, moved with the Anger of Compassion when he first saw the slave markets of the Mississippi, and moved with the Anger of Compassion by laws seeking to spread the contagion of slavery into the new territories of our nation.

Abraham Lincoln spoke eloquently of a God, in the spirit of Jesus, who desired human freedom, prosperity and equality.

Let us never forget that one of the principal preserving elements of the evil of slavery was religion.

Then again—let us never forget that religion reinforced the second class treatment of women, the degradation of those with AIDS, the child sweatshops of the early 20the century, and the segregation of churches which is still a reality today.

It continues to reinforce some of the darker aspect of our soul today, whether it be bigotry and hostility directed against those with a different religion, race, sexual orientation or definition of what it means to be male, female or even a family.

Tomorrow, we celebrate the Feast Day of Absalom Jones, the first African-American Priest of the Episcopal Church. This afternoon there is a service to commemorate one of the truly great saints of the American church at Trinity Cathedral in Trenton at 3PM; I hope you will join me there.

His Priesthood and the one might say the very beginning of one of the great traditions of historic Christianity, the American Black Church—stems from an act of The Anger of Compassion.

On a fateful Sunday of in November of 1787, while Absalom Jones and Richard Allen knelt in prayer in the gallery of St. George’s Methodist Church in Philadelphia, some of the white congregation decided that blacks should be confined to the Balcony. Pulled to their feet by a church official during opening prayers, an appalled Jones and Allen—walked out of the church.

They not only walked out; they demanded “restoration” into American Christianity; they demanded that the leper treatment must end.

Richard Allen founded the African Methodist Episcopal Church or AME; Absalom Jones founded the black Episcopal church—and one of the great historic churches of American Christianity—St. Thomas’ Church in Philadelphia, PA.

Our Youth Group took a mission trip there my first year at All Saint’s; perhaps one day we will return.

Jesus went to a lonely place after healing the leper in Mark’s Gospel— and suffered much for taking a stand on behalf of the abuse, the excluded, the diminished.

Yes, the Anger of Compassion will not make us popular or safe.

But, as Jesus eventually discovered—-for living such compassion—and living such risk, cost and pain… the depth of Compassion-(and its anger!)—is the ONLY thing that will eventually lead us to—Resurrection—and to Life’s wholeness.

A sermon preached on the 6th Sunday after the Epiphany, February 12, 2012, in All Saint’s Episcopal Church, Princeton, New Jersey, Year B, on Mark 1:40-45, by the Rev. Hugh E. Brown, III, D. Min., Rector

Sixth Sunday After The Epiphany

Fri, 10 Feb 2012 13:58:08 -0500

Sunday, 12 February

8:00 AM - Rite I Eucharist

9:00 AM - Parents Class in the Library

10:00AM - Rite II Eucharist w/ special musical guests

11:30AM - Adult Forum in the South Room, “The Faith of Abraham Lincoln,” by Peter Travers

3:00 PM - Trinity Cathedral in Trenton: “A Celebration of Absalom Jones”

6:00 PM - Youth Group dinner and Valentine’s delivering to elderly parishoners

Coming Up:

Feb 21 - Shrove Tuesday Pancake Supper

The Real “Messianic Secret”

Fri, 10 Feb 2012 13:48:26 -0500

“And he would not permit the demons to speak, for they knew him.” (Mark 1)

“But those who wait for the Lord will renew their strength.” (Isaiah 40)

There is an old saying about a sea captain who was at the top of his profession. He had earned a reputation as one who could make excellent decisions in times of crisis. People did notice, though, that just before it was time to give his orders to the crew, he would to down to his stateroom, open up his safe, and pull out a slip of paper and read it.

Then, he would stride on deck, and make the right call. Naturally, curiosity was high. It was no surprise, that, when he died, one of the first things the crew did after his funeral service was to gather in his stateroom and watch while the first mate opened the safe and pulled out well-worn slip of paper. He read it aloud.

Port left, Starboard right.

In difficult times, the captain knew to remind himself repeatedly of the basics. The captain’s little slip of paper held information—but was a secret; his secret was the source of his ability to act.

In Mark’s Gospel, Jesus is like a sea captain with a secret. Scholars often refer to this as the Messianic secret.

We find this secret is a curious phrase within the quietly lovely and powerful story of Jesus’s healing Simon Peter’s Mother in Law. “He would not permit the demons to speak—for they knew him.”

The scriptures spoke last week that the power of evil, natural or moral, seems to know Jesus.

Throughout the Gospel of Mark we will find Jesus secretive about his identity.

Examples abound and you will encounter them throughout Mark’s Gospel over the coming year.

Jesus refrains from appropriating any Messianic title for himself. Mark speaks of Jesus teaching his parables in secret and in secret explaining all to his disciples.

Jesus repeatedly issues “stern orders” not to tell his secret-which he is Messiah.

Why?

Humility yes; maybe even reality; did Jesus struggle with his senses of vocation and the reality of his role as Messiah within God’s providence slowly dawned on him. Could it be that the Son of God could be—uncertain and unsure at times?

Yet, the “Messianic Secret” seems to be a strategic goal for Jesus. It did not work actually; those who are healed spread the news; the Gospel of Mark suggests that the disciples let slip the news of the Transfiguration.

William Wrede, a great New Testament scholar suggests that the “Messianic Secret” was a kind of “damage control” and device for “spinning” the truth that Jesus was not recognized as Messiah until after the resurrection.

I think Jesus’s strategy about the Messianic secret and why he said, “Shuuu” to the demons, and “hush” to the disciples again and again is about something else.

Something else more true to the Strategy of Jesus; a reason why, perhaps Jesus was NOT recognized as Messiah until after his death.

In modern 21st century language, Jesus did not a “success” model for Messiah; he did not want to link supernatural “success” to faith and to God; his did not want to “authenticate” his ministry and life by being a wonder-working cure-giving, earth-shaking charismatic figure.

We saw last week that the Gospel of Mark clearly links “Authority” –not with miraculous cures and the bashing of evil—and Exorcist like Hollywood movie moments of supernatural fantasy; no, the “Authority of Jesus is the authority of hope and compassion.

What did Jesus desire his identity to be about—Messiah or not? Service, Love, Healing in a broad sense—and above all, doing the will of God and finding one’s center in God.

When called good in the Gospel of Mark, Jesus pointed to God.

We see this in the story of Jesus healing the loved one of his friend on this morning; What does Mark say is really important? What did Jesus think was important? The “supernatural cure?”

I don’t think so: we read, “Jesus went out in the dark to pray.” We read that once the fever left her, see “served.”

“She served,” The true miracle! “She was restored.” Not just to physical health but to reconciliation with her community because, in the days of Jesus, Illness made you a true leper. Especially for women in the days of Jesus, illness excluded you from community and family.

The true miracle here in this story? Restored relationship—compassion—love.

What does Mark say? “Everyone is searching for you!” Of course! Let’s have more cures! Let’s have more supernatural change. Let’s have more “success!” That is what everyone wanted. Not our Lord.

“No more of this”, says, Jesus. “Let us go to the neighboring towns—let us move on; there are more who need us.” “Above all, let us preach the Gospel and serve our God!” says Jesus.

This Sunday, millions of people will watch the New England Patriots and the New York Giants face off in the Super Bowl.

As it happens, the scripture appointed for worship is one that we cited over and over again when I was a part of the Fellowship of Christian athletes in High School

“Even youths will faint and be weary, and the young will fall exhausted; but those who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint.”

Coincidence for today? That these words part of the pantheon of scriptures that shape many Christian sports programs are read this morning?

Coincidence that the “poster boy” for the integration of faith and sports, whether you like it or not, Tim Tebow, emblazoned “Isaiah 40:31” during his days as a quarterback for the Florida Gators. He also choose this verse to wear in a game against Kentucky in September 2009 while he was battling a respiratory illness.

The subject of faith and sports is a hot topic today, fueled largely by Tebow’s outspoken evangelical Christian faith and his come from behind wins with the Denver Broncos this season.

Tebow’s practice of publically professing his faith in Jesus at every opportunity has made him a lightning rod for debate over the issue.

So: the question arises? Does God really care about any of this?

Let us actually mark what Tim Tebow says about his witness to Jesus as a professional athlete-and I take him at his word:

“The game does not matter; I mean, I give 100 percent of my heart to win it, but in the end, the thing I most want to do is not win championships or make a lot of money; it is to use this opportunity, granted to very, very few people in their lives—an opportunity to make a difference.”

A few weeks ago, Tebow-took some hits and flack for not appearing with his teammates for interviews or even for consolation after losing to the New England Patriots; he did not appear before the media; he did not go to the locker room.

No, he went to see, as he always does after a game, a child or a young person—ill—sick—kids like Baily Knaub a girl who has endured dozens of surgeries in her young life; kids like Zac Taylor, a nine year old boys who lives in constant pain.

After the loss to the Patriots, Tebow visited with a young man named Zach McCloud undergoing extensive chemotherapy for cancer at age 11.

Does God care about who wins a football game?

Does God care about the role of American sports within his Providential care to make a Difference?

God may be with Tim Tebow on the football field. But God is certainly with the injured, sick and hurting kids who watch him—and who learn that Tim—and God—care about them.

An old Church of the Brethren layman was walking down the street in a little PA town. The Church of the Brethren stem from the “free church” wing of the Reformation and place deeds over creeds as the center of Christian faith.

A young evangelist approached him and handed him and asked him, “Sir, have you been saved?”

The old gentleman took the tract, peered at it for a moment, and then pulled a pencil out of his pocket and began writing on the tract. The younger man stood by impatient and curious. Finally, the old man handed him back his tract.

The response stated: “I’ve written down the names and phone numbers of several of my family and friends. Ask them if I’ve been saved. I could tell you anything.”

The real miracles of faith? Not “success,” not competition, in sports or anything else.

But the “secret” of taking some time to talk to a kid in a life or death struggle with Cancer. And, of course, that’s no secret to faithful, loving, Christian life—at all!

Amen!

A sermon preached by the Rev. Hugh E. Brown, III, D. Min, on the 5th Sunday after the Epiphany, Year B, on Isaiah 40: 21-31, and Mark 1:29-39, in All Saint’s Episcopal Church, Princeton, New Jersey on February 5th, 2012

The Presentation of the Lord

Tue, 31 Jan 2012 10:37:44 -0500

TUESDAY, 31 January

7:00 AM - Men’s Bible Study on the Gospel of Luke at Panera Bread on Nassau Street

8:30 PM - Princeton Book Study on Pilgrim’s Progress at Panera Bread on Nassau Street

WEDNESDAY, 1 February

9:30 AM - Holy Eucharist in the Chapel

10:15 AM - Rector’s Wednesday Morning Study on the Books of Chronicles in the Old Testament

SUNDAY, 5 February

8:00 - Holy Eucharist (Rite I)

9:00 AM - Confirmation Class in the Rectory

9:00 AM - Parent’s Class in the Library

10:00 AM - Choral Eucharist (Rite II)

Anthems:

Williams Walton - Set Me As Seal

Orlando Gibbons - O Lord Increase My Faith

11:30 AM - Adult Forum: The Rev. Dr. John Frederick on the Liturgical Renewal andthe Book of Common Prayer (Part II) which concludes a three-part series on the theological and spiritual foundations on the Book of Common Prayer

4:00 PM - Evensong

Service - di Lasso (Mag.) and Holst (Nunc)

Responses - Tomkins

Anthem - Stanford: For Lo I Raise Up

Healing in “The When”

Tue, 31 Jan 2012 10:37:11 -0500

“Be Silent!”

Once two persons recited the 23rd Psalm beginning with the lovely verse, The Lord is My Shepherd.

One was a well-known actor; the other was a rather unsophisticated and senior steel worker. The actor’s rendering of the psalm was beautiful and commanding. Everyone enjoyed the rich words of the beloved psalm spoken in his clear baritone. All the inflections and pauses were perfect. The form was flawless.

Then the old steel worker spoke. He stumbled a bit and the words were broken with unnatural punctuations of silence. But, when he finished, there were tears in the eyes of the listeners. Something had happened and it was the actor who gave the interpretation. “I know the psalm,” he said, “but this man knows the shepherd.”

This is the difference authority makes.

Now, some might say that we have a classic idea of “charismatic” authority here—someone who commands respect by force of personality.

Another way to look at the way authority works in this example has more to do with truth.

The old steel worker, was “keeping it real” we might say. Perhaps he had an experience which enabled him to “know” the story—not in just a formal way or intellectual way but a visceral way. Perhaps he apprehended or understood what “my shepherd” was all about through heart not just mind.

Or, perhaps, through his imagination, he just knows that “my shepherd” was about drawing from a power the world just does not understand.

Perhaps “my shepherd” indicated a whole new world we are invited to live—a source of power and authority that calls us beyond systems of power and privilege to which we are called to pay homage daily.

Yes, this Gospel is about healing; yes, it is about exorcism. The direct relationship between spiritual and physical was unquestioned in the days of Jesus.

And, yes it is easy to go “there”—to questions of supernatural interventions and the like; it is easy to “go there” and distance ourselves from the story with questions of “did it happen?”

It is easy to dismiss the story with a materialist world view which discounts the supernatural or a fundamentalist world view which accepts every detail of this story as literally true.

It becomes more difficult to distance ourselves from this text when we look at Mark’s narrative world and some vision of Jesus’s life and ministry he is inviting us to grasp with this story.

For this story is not only about healing, about exorcism, about miracles.

But that is not Mark’s fundamental point here about Jesus. The real point is about authority and the Greek translation of the word, authority here is power.

The “demoniac” here certainly represents illness and possession.

But this character also represents a man under an authority contrary to God’s power.

And, in truth, the man represents a man under the authority of a religious world view whose power is hostile to God.

To be blunt—the demonic for Mark’s Gospel becomes all that is wrong with both the religion and politics of the time.

The demonic represents a tale of “two bodies.” Certainly his own body is wracked via illness with a spiritual foundation.

But he is also part of a religious and civic body politic wracked with spiritual wretchedness hostile to God’s ways, laws and dreams.

What was it like for a man so described who accosted Jesus as he was preaching in the synagogue?

What “power” governed him? Because he was physically impaired, he was shunned. He was not welcomed in the synagogue. No doubt Mark places him there because he desires, through the conflict between the demoniac and Jesus, to illustrate the authority of Jesus against the authority of the religion of his day.

What was this man’s authority? Not just illness or demonic possession! His ultimate authority was the power of a system that had robbed him of self, dignity, worth and respect.

In this way, the demoniac is akin to the woman in Luke’s gospel who crashed a party in the home of a religious leader to get to Jesus and Jesus breaks every purity rule to touch her, enable her to touch him, relate to her—heal her.

I think there is a word to describe the true spiritual foundations of the demonic in Mark. It comes from Frantz Fanon’s work on the relationship between culture and mental health; he terms it “The Internalization of Oppression.”

Fanon studied the Algerian Independence struggle in the 1950s and noted a graphic and disturbing fact: The dominating power of colonial occupation produced pathological behavior for those living under its reality. For example, a French police inspector in charge of interrogation begins abusing his wife and children. An Algerian survivor of mass murder begins having delusions of genocide and a desires “to kill everyone with whom he comes into contact.

Like the demoniac, we can easily “internalize” the power of bad religion and bad politics to rob us of dignity, freedom and respect.

But not only that; we can easily “internalize” powers that seek to define us, control us, circumscribe us and diminish us.

For that Jesus has two words: Be Silent!

Before the words, “Come out of Him,” before the “curing” or “exorcism” —are the words which challenge definition—which challenge boundaries—which challenge all which attempt to rule us with alien and demonic force: “Be Silent!”

And that is the best and good news of this story to you and to me.

Not the cure; that may come; not the exorcism; that may happen; not the supernatural change; that may transpire; not even the miracle; that may shine like Epiphany light.

Yes, God commands “silence” (!)— to all who would deny us self, hope, light, faith and respect and humanity.

It seems like such an insignificant word: “When.”

But it shook the foundations of evil and made the way for life.

A very skillful physician, a gifted oncologist, sat with a woman who had just been diagnosed with late stage breast cancer.

He was about to navigate the life or death discourse around two realities, the abuse of either leading to darkness and death.

The one reality was hopelessness—this diagnosis was a death sentence. And it likely was.

The healing, the hope, the exorcism is not present in the promised cure, nor is present in the cruel truth—but in the “Be Silent.”

The courageous, shared insight and promise from physician to patient: Cancer will not define you or our reality.

We will live in another reality—the beautiful, healing, compassionate reality of—-hope!

“When the cancer reoccurs—we will work with it.” The hope rests in this phrase: “When and With.” The hope rests not in the words,” if the cancer reoccurs,” nor “whether the cancer reoccurs”—but “WHEN.” “When” and “We will deal with it; Not we will cure it, heal it, destroy it, get past it.”

No, we will deal with it. We will confront it, challenge it, tend to it.

“When, When.” “Deal Deal”

We will not abandon you.

We will fight for you.

We will live in Hope! These are the ways of a master physician.

A true healer—not just a medic—not just a doctor.

(Story from The Emperor of All Maladies: A Biography of Cancer by Siddhartha Mukherjee, p. 307)

Be Silent!!

Not Illusion; Not Denial; Not Despair; Not Cruel so called “Truth.” But—-Hope.

Hope—When the true liberation happens in Synagogue –at Capernaum.

Hope—When the true liberation happens in a Church or…in Princeton. Today!

A sermon preached on January 29, 2012, the Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany, year B in the Revised Common Lectionary on Mark 1:21-28, by the Rev. Hugh E. Brown, III, D. Min., Rector, All Saint’s Parish, Princeton

Fourth Sunday After The Epiphany

Mon, 23 Jan 2012 14:03:08 -0500

Monday, January 23

Paradox in the Christian Faith led by the Rev’s Hugh and Elly Brown from All Saint’s Church and Dick and Juliana Fenn from Trinity Church at the residence of the Fenns at 34 Edgehill Road in Princeton. If interested, call Pastor Hugh at 609-921-2420 or e-mail at hughandelly@aol.com.

Tuesday , January 24

7:00 AM - Men’s Bible Study on the Gospel of Luke at Panera Bread on Nassau Street

8:30 PM - Princeton Book Study on Pilgrim’s Progress at Panera Bread on Nassau Street

Wednesday, January 25

9:30 AM - Holy Eucharist in the Chapel

10:15 AM - Rector’s Wednesday Morning Study on the Books of Chronicles in the Old Testament

Sunday, January 29

8:00 AM - Holy Eucharist (Rite I)

9:00 AM - Parents Class (NO confirmation class this week)

10:00 AM - Choral Eucharist (Rite II) - Hospitality to follow!

Anthems:

Alan Bullard: Praise ye the Lord

Tomas Luis da Victoria: O sacrum convivium

11:30 AM - Vestry and Flower Team will meet

Other Announcements

Christianity for Seekers and Sceptics led by Leah-Macinskas-Le, seminarian intern from Princeton Seminary-beginning on Tuesday evening, February 7 at the All Saint’s Church Library. Contact Leah at leah.macinskas@ptsem.edu.

Please note our upcoming Adult Forums

Third Sunday After The Epiphany

Mon, 16 Jan 2012 13:18:00 -0500

Tuesday , January 17

7:00 AM - Men’s Bible Study on the Gospel of Luke at Panera Bread on Nassau Street

8:30 PM - Princeton Book Study on Pilgrim’s Progress at Panera Bread on Nassau Street

Wednesday, January 18

9:30 AM - Holy Eucharist in the Chapel

10:15 AM - Rector’s Wednesday Morning Study on the Books of Chronicles in the Old Testament

Sunday, January 22

8:00 AM - Holy Eucharist (Rite I)

9:00 AM - Choral Eucharist (Rite II)

Anthems:

Claudio Monteverdi: Cantate Domino

Sir Edward Elgar: Ave Verum Corpus

11: 30 AM - Adult Forum, Part II of the Theological and Spiritual Foundations of the Book of Common Prayer, “The Principles of the English Reformation and the 1979 Book of Common Prayer” by the Rev. Hugh E. Brown, III, D. Min., Rector

For updates during the week, see our Facebook and Twitter pages!

Becoming an Eli Community

Mon, 16 Jan 2012 12:26:00 -0500

“Then Eli perceived the Lord was calling the boy” (First Samuel, Chapter 3)

“Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”(Gospel of John, Chapter 1)

I had a friend, a respected lay leader in the congregation, tell me: “When you can’t find God, perhaps you are not looking hard enough.”

Both the Old and New Testament passages speak to God’s call.

The word, “Call” in biblical perspective is rich in spiritual overtones, but, in my experience, it has to do with God’s always taking the initiative to reach out to you and to me, to communicate with us, to be in dialogue with God’s people, and to challenge God’s people to deepened relationship.

“Call” in biblical perspective does not manifest itself just internally and individually, but also in the moral life and ethical life in relationship with one’s neighbor.

The scriptures this morning from First Samuel and the Gospel of John speak to these themes of God always taking the initiative to reach God’s people and to the “fruits” of call in the spiritual and moral life.

After all, Samuel’s great task would be to anoint a King for Israel; Philip and Nathanael’s task would be to put their lives aside to follow Jesus.

One way to always “mark” a true sense of God’s call is concrete action for biblically based common good; does “call” manifest in greater concern for one’s neighbor both relationally and communally?

This morning, for example, Reed’s family is responding to God’s call or God’s movement in presenting her for Baptism; Jesus, God’s incarnation, wants to welcome Reed into the church family and our parish family; Jesus’s God’s Son, has reached out.

I don’t think we would be here if Reed’s parents and family were not responding to God’s “call” or God’s reaching out to invite Reed into the Christian faith.

And, from our Baptismal Covenant we will all renew in a moment, God’s call comes with biblically based, concrete moral and spiritual action: Seeking and Serving God in the Neighbor, A commitment to ongoing Christian worship in Community, Working for Peace and Justice.

However, my focus for this message is around the question: How do we really discover that it is God who is calling us? A related question may be— why is it so hard to find God?

The scriptures and the traditions of the Church give multiple responses to these weighty spiritual questions—some of the most important we will ever face.

However, in the passages this morning, we learn that our perceptions of God’s call are often so different from the reality.

In First Samuel, Chapter 3, God’s call comes to Samuel in a very nuanced, very ordinary, very human and very paradoxical kind of way. Samuel mistakes God’s voice for his mentor’s voice. Samuel’s sense of call must be interpreted. The call comes in a time of great upheaval and crisis. The call comes in an unexpected way and time. The call, the very voice of the Almighty, is, paradoxically, one of simplicity, questing, and service.

There is an even greater “paradoxical” edge in the call to first disciples in John’s Gospel, First chapter. “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” replies Nathanael to Philip.

Obviously, Nathanael was not familiar with Bethlehem, Magi, Shepherds, Annunciation, or any other wonders and signs around the birth of Jesus. He only knew that Jesus was from Nazareth and how in the world would God call the Messiah from Nazareth? Why not Jerusalem? Why not the center of action rather than the countryside of Galilee?

Perhaps the scriptures here teach that God’s call not only comes in unexpected, nuanced, very human and ordinary ways, but also comes in some rather “edgy” provocative, marginalized ways—in in places, persons and contexts that confound and shock us.

Perhaps that is why the Anglican tradition, even within Protestant Christianity, Baptizes infants and younger children.

What greater way to witness to God’s paradoxical sense of “call” than God’s welcome to a little child!

Children were not counted for much in the days of the bible. But, over and over again in both the Old and New Testaments, God’s call came to the young and to children. Children are often not counted for much in our day either; look at the budget priorities at the Federal level! Look at the amount of childhood poverty we are willing to tolerate!

On this day in which we celebrate the National Holiday for Dr. King, we might want to examine, not only opportunities for service, but also, in the spirit of the Baptismal covenant, opportunities for advocacy for justice and peace.

Yes, perhaps God reached out to children and continues to reach out to Children in Baptism precisely because they are the often those who do not count for much in the eyes of the world and are not able to speak for themselves.

And, yes, perhaps “a little child will lead them, in the words of the Prophet Isaiah.”

Don’t we see this in God’s call to Samuel? He was a child. He needed the call to be interpreted—and I’m sure not just once—but over many years. Samuel needed to grow into this sense of call and needed wise mentors like Eli to interpret the call for him. We might keep this point in mind as we promise to “uphold Reed” in the Christian faith. Perhaps we are all “Eli’s” to Reed today. We are all mentors to this child in the interpretation of God’s call.

Martin Luther King Jr. writes of his “call” to ministry—and to prophetic leadership in our church and nation—in many places within his corpus of work.

In reflection on the scriptures—and the theme of God’s call to the young and to the marginalized contexts of our lives—we learn of young Martin Luther King Jr. receiving God’s call to ministry in several searing childhood experiences; these experiences also required interpretation and growth, led by his “Eli’s” in school, church, university and seminary.

When MLK was six years old a white friend suddenly vanished—forbidden to play with him any longer.

When he was a young kid, once in a downtown department store, a white customer slapped him when he accidently stepped on her foot.

One experience in particular shaped, formed and empowered his call to ministry for racial justice. He would often refer to it in sermons and addresses.

I quote it from a fine biography of King, Martin Luther King, Jr. A Life, by Marshall Frady:

“When returning by bus wish his teacher from a high school oratorical contest in a south Georgia town, where Martin had delivered to much acclaim, a speech entitled, “The African-American and the Constitution,” , the bush driver demanded they give up their seats when more white passengers boarded—and the two of them had to stand the ninety miles back to Atlanta.”

Some fourteen years later, when something similar happened in Montgomery, Alabama, where he was serving as pastor, and, more than anything he wanted to stay out of the conflict and not get involved—he would say he remembered that searing experience—and had no choice but to accept the leadership of the Montgomery Bus Boycott—which would change the nation—and the world.”

But his call to eventual leadership in our nation was not without Eli’s and interpreters; He would cite his father’s example: His Father, who, in front of the boy, confronted a policeman for his racist behavior and refused to be intimated.

He would cite the example of his family and public school teachers.

More than anyone else, perhaps, he would cite the example of Dr. Benjamin Mays of Morehouse College who begin to affirm what Dr. King called, “an inner urge to serve humanity,” and also begin teaching the principles of non-violence and love of all humanity which would enable Dr. King to overcome his childhood temptations to bitterness and hate.

(Stories from pages 15-16 of Martin Luther King Jr., A Life, by Marshall Frady)

Is it really so hard to find God? Not so much if we look for God’s “call” in the ordinary, even painful experiences of our lives; not so much if we look to the unlikely bearers of God’s presence, especially the young and the children. Not so much if we even search for God in those painful experiences—especially when facing injustice and oppression.

Is it really so hard to hear God’s call in this world without frequent dreams and visions?

Well—look to Reed. Pay attention to her life. Become her Eli. Reach out to her as her mentor. Walk with her in good times and painful times.

Then you may, like Eli, perceive God to be calling her—And You!

Amen!

By Rev. Hugh E. Brown, III, D. Min., Rector

A sermon preached on the Second Sunday after the Epiphany in All Saint’s Episcopal Church, Princeton, on January 15, 2012, the weekend prior to the National Holiday in celebration of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., and the Baptism of Reed Katherine de Blank on First Samuel 3: 1-10 and John I: 43-51.

Photo of Dr. Benjamin Mays: President of Morehouse College in GA when Dr. King was a student there (at age 15!). Dr. Mays served as an “Eli” to Dr. King-and turned him towards work for racial justice, peace and reconciliation.

Second Sunday after The Epiphany

Mon, 09 Jan 2012 13:46:00 -0500

Tuesday , January 10

Men’s Bible Study on the Gospel of Luke at 7:00 AM at Panera Bread on Nassau Street

Princeton Book Study at 8:30 PM on Pilgrim’s Progress at Panera Bread on Nassau Street

~~Wednesday, January 11~~ POSTPONED to Wed, January 18

Holy Eucharist at 9:30 AM in the Chapel, followed by the Rector’s Wednesday Morning

Study group at 10:15 AM on the Books of Chronicles in the Old Testament

Sunday, January 15

The Second Sunday after the Epiphany, with Holy Baptism at 10:00AM and Holy Eucharist Rite I at 8:00 AM

Parent’s Class at 9:00 AM in the Library

Adult Forum at 11:30 AM - Part I: ‘The Liturgical Renewal Movement within Anglicanism and the Episcopal Church’ by the Rev. Dr. John Frederick, Priest Associate

Baptismal Architecture: Expressionist Life

Mon, 09 Jan 2012 13:36:00 -0500

If you happen to be in Jerusalem, and venture into an area just north of the city, you can climb to the top of a bluff overlooking part of the dark concrete barrier that is slowly making its way northward along the West Bank.

But, at dusk, its future path is outlined by a necklace of lights. Following routes travelled by Israelis, the lights turn eastward, to trace the contours of barren hills before coiling tightly around the Kockav Yaakov settlement. The surrounding territory, inhabited by Palestinians, is enveloped in darkness.

In certain respects, the 450 mile barrier is a model of planning; it is reduced to its most primitive, the desire to divide Palestinian from Israeli, “us from them.” Conceived in 2002 and completed in 2006, this wall has been extolled as necessary for self-preservation.

But, according to an article in the New York Times, from early January of 2006, just a few months prior to the completion of the wall—this wall is also a piece of architecture.

Let me return to the image of architecture in a moment.

If you happened to be in Israel, in the days of John the Baptizer, in the days of Jesus of the first century of the common era, and you went to Jerusalem, venturing into an area just north of the city you would climb one of the bluffs, you would see one of the great walls of the ancient world.

Then as now, these walls were to divide “us vs. them.”

In Geneva, Switzerland, you will see such a wall in the “ole city.” The wall is famous among the people of France and Switzerland as an image of history. This was a place of warfare between Catholics and Protestants in the religious strife of Europe.

Residents of Geneva celebrate a special day, one of the great holidays, whereby according to lore, senior women with pans of hot water fought off invaders.

But, if you walk through the old city, to get to the Cathedral in the center of the “ole town,” the wall now is nothing more than a splendid anachronism, a place more known for a good jog, or exercise—or a walk in scenic beauty.

For today, not only Catholics and Protestants but hundreds of thousands of persons from all over the globe, of all races, creeds, faiths, traditions, and cultures come to Geneva to converse, dialogue, and plan for the uplifting of the human family in such circles as the World Health Organization, the United Nations, or the Red Cross.

In Geneva, in Jerusalem, yesterday or today, walls and barriers often begin as tragedy and end as farce.

Let’s move back to the image of architecture and Israel.

The new wall dividing a portion of Israel from the West Bank has generated a debate within the circles of architecture as heated as the circles of politics. There are those like Eyal Wiexman, who disdain the wall because it is crude and vulgar, an example of what is known in the circles of architecture as “striated” space—a world shaped by solid walls.

There are those like Shimon Navez, a retired brigadier general in the Israeli army. He detests the wall because he believes Israeli security would best be served by “smooth space.” In his view, the segregation of the West Bank into careful, well defined zones, much of it controlled by surveillance equipment and machinery, is a better “architecture of security” than lines and walls of concrete and metal.

No matter the details, the wall as“architecture of security,” means this for Israelis and Palestinians: crudely exposed concrete bases serving as makeshift staircase for Palestinian schoolchildren making their way up the hill to class—amidst gunfire and blood. One side of the wall, you see well-lighted highways and sewage systems; on the other side of the wall, the Palestinian side, you see squalor, bombed out buildings where schools once stood, home sites now long bulldozed.

We in the United States know well the discourse of the wall as the image of“architecture of security.” We want to build a barrier along the Mexican/American border. Or, more symbolically, we want to build barriers between Americans—Muslims, Immigrants, Latinos, Christians, Conservatives, Progressive, Traditional, Liberal.

Several thousand years ago, a man went to a river and invited persons into a different kind of architecture. A different kind of security.

John the Baptizer led persons into the water, beyond “striated space” and “smooth space,” beyond walls and lines, away from abstract and rationalist designs and attempts at planning.

He led persons into what we might call, “expressionist space.” If you go into the art galleries of the Smithsonian in Washington DC or the Musee d’ Orsay in Paris, and gaze into those wonderful works of art painted in the late 19th and early 20th centuries, you see a unique from and architecture.

Called Expressionism, within this visual art, all is fluid, the scene is somewhat messy, the colors and the shapes are in movement. You experience a “middle ground” where things are not black and white but shades of light and rivers of contour.

If you go to the National Gallery of Art in Washington you may see the work of the late 20th century abstract expressionist named Robert Motherwell.

This architect of form and space has created, through stunning, flowing shapes of black contours of red, a work called “reconciliation elegy.” The shapes flow, almost touching, but do not quite connect. There is hope in that art; there is pain in that architecture.

John took water, a form of total expressionist identity, without lines, without divisions, without marks of scarlet letters or graffiti, or Israeli, or Palestinian or Jew or Gentile, or Roman, or black, or white, or slave or free—and blessed, and absolved, and affirmed, and transformed.

Through this new architecture of security, God was and is creating a new expressionist world—beyond walls, beyond lines, beyond control. In this new architecture of security, there is hope and pain, there is connection and separation, there is family, there is community—and children do not have to walk across barriers in the midst of guns and blood.

This new architecture of security rests on the pillars, of openness, vulnerability, spread arms, not clinched fists, trust rather than fear, faith rather than anxiety, possibility rather than restriction—and “expressionist middle ground,” shades of light, messy work where the future is always open.

Jesus received this water.

“You are my beloved.”

There is no wall between us—ever again, between Father and Son.

“You are my beloved: there is no wall; there are no carefully controlled zones and space; life is mixed; life is messy; life is about loss and gain, crucifixion and resurrection.”

Jesus lived this; Jesus, in turn, blessed all into expressionist space; Jesus took water and healed a blind man; Jesus met a Samaritan woman at the water and changed her life.

Jesus released water from his side and liberated each one of us from the architecture of walled security to the architecture of expressionist love.

What might it be for you—for me—for this parish family—for the church—for the human family, to live an “expressionist Christian life,” in this new year? What might be like for you-for me-for this parish family—for the church—for the human family, to move beyond divisions, lines and walls, to a “messy” but hope-filled life, embracing contradiction, paradox, hope, possibility, faith and pain-filled, inclusive connection?

What might it be like for our children to make their way to class, embraced by the stranger, rather than feared and bloodied by “the other?”

What might it be like for you to feel, truly feel the waters of blessing, embrace, flow and grace—without walls, fully accepted, pain and hope together?

You are my Son, my daughter, my Beloved…

How beautiful the crumbling of walls, how amazing—the life of an expressionist faith, hope and love!

Amen!

A sermon preached by the Rev. Hugh E. Brown, III, D. Min., Rector, in All Saint’s Episcopal Church on the First Sunday of Epiphany, the Baptism of Our Lord, Year B, Mark 1:7-11, January 8, 2011

Feast of the Epiphany

Thu, 05 Jan 2012 15:20:00 -0500

January 6th, 2012 - 12:00 PM - Holy Eucharist in the Chapel

Watching the Evidence Change!

Thu, 22 Dec 2011 15:09:00 -0500

(Sudanese Christian children - Photo by the Episcopal Church of Sudan)

By The Rev. Dr. Hugh Brown III

In the Nuba Mountains of that border that straddles Sudan and the newly born government of Southern Sudan—the people are waiting for the coming of Christ. They are also in a life or death struggle against extermination by the government.

“For a child has been born to us and a son given to us; authority rests upon his shoulders; and he is named Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Everlasting Father, Prince of Peace”

Watching the Evidence Change!

My mother’s china cabinet holds a beautiful set of dishes my brother and sisters and I bought for her as a Christmas gift in 1981.

She had been wanting a nice set of dinnerware to use at family gatherings for quite a while, so that was one reason we decided to chip in and buy it for her.

Still, there was a deeper meaning to the gift. We gave the fancy china to our mother as a symbol of our belief that she would be with us for a long time—-long enough to wear the fancy patterns right off those cups, plates and saucers.

You see, our mother fell sick from cancer in 1981.

After Mom opened the china set on Christmas Day and thanked us for the beautiful gift, my sister Lisa told her that it would take a month or so for all the pieces to be delivered.

I noticed a look of sadness and doubt flash across her face. She admitted later that she’d been thinking, I might not be there that long.

But, then, encouraged by her family telling her, “Mom, we are going to wear out that China with many years of holiday meals and family gathers,” my mother decided to do something.

She was determined to believe that she might get better. So, she refused to act sick. She refused to stay in bed or even take a nap; instead, although with great difficulty, she went about her day, sleeping only at normal time.

“My mom is still with us today,” writes the great Christian evangelist Joel Osteen.

“We would like to think the china set we gave her helped cure our mother’s cancer by keeping her focused on a long life through that difficult holiday season in 1981. But all the credit is God’s alone.”

(Story taken from, The Christmas Spirit: Memories of Family, Friends, and Faith,” by Joel Osteen, 2010)

I do not share this opening story of china, healing and grace as a sentimental and cheap, “everything is going to be O.K.” message on this Sunday before Christmas. Certainly there are times when the China is given that our mother passes before the parts call come.

I share it to remind us that faith, real honest to goodness faith, is more than mere belief. It is more than an intellectual assent to doctrine, although that assent is important to the Christian life.

Faith is about trust; and it is not mere trust as emotion—but trust manifested in action and life.

It is about purchasing a gift of China, trusting that the pieces will come; it is about living instead of napping, trusting that strength and health will return.

As my mentor and friend Jim Wallis of the Sojourners, “hope is believing in spite of the evidence—and watching the evidence change.”

Does the evidence change all the time? No. Do we change? Does something else change? What might that be?

Where is the source of this hope at the root of the things that may change? And with all due respect to one of our former governs and public culture warriors, the Gospel IS all about “that hopey changey thing!”

As to the source of our Advent and Christmas hope—and of the gift of Christmas China— I offer the following from a sermon giving by Martin Luther on the ninth chapter of Isaiah:

“No one is a Christian who does not rest on the shoulder of Christ. Even the good authorities are carried on the shoulders of their subjects.” “But the rule of that Son who was born to us works the other way around—he carries us! We rest on his shoulders; he is our bearer. See how Isaiah turns everything around, contrary to the customs of the world.”

“Where is Christ’s rule, his land, his people? Our duke’s rule includes Saxony, Thuringia, and Meissen. But Christ’s rule includes all believers. So WE are his people and his land.”

As the prophet Isaiah tells us:

“Unto YOU a Son if given. As the Creeds tell us, Jesus Christ is OUR Lord.”

“We rest on his shoulders; he is our bearer.”

“Is not this wonderful!? Where is His Government? On his shoulder! Christ’s kingdom is not under his feet, nor is it in Rome or in Babylon; it is on his shoulder.”

“I know of no other comfort greater than this—to rest on the shoulder of this CHILD.”

“This Child will carry us, not we him. He does not or need to be served but the greatest service we could render him is that we should let him carry US!”

“Do you want to know who a Saint is? The great Saints, Isaiah, Peter, Paul—from the greatest to the least, they are all on his shoulder. That is his government. Those who are NOT on his shoulder are not under his rule.” “Christ says, Hop On!” Isaiah says, “You have the Son.”

“So, Hop On, we should gladly and confidently run to him, believing that he will answer us an pay for us.”

(“To Us a Child Is Born: Sermon on Isaiah 9:6, Afternoon of Christmas Day, December 5, 1531 in Word and World, Vol. 16, No. 4, Fall, 1996)

There is no evidence that they will survive. The children of Nuba now starve in the caves of the mountains that bear their tribal names. They hide from aerial bombardments that appear at all hours.

They have not harvested their crops this year because it is too dangerous to be in the fields. The battles on the ground by the resistance movement continue as their last line of defense. No other nation, including the United States has come to their defense.

And still, the people of the Nuba Mountains expect Jesus to come.

On Christmas eve, they will sing. This very week, in preparation for Christmas, they will paint their homes and churches with whitewash. They decorate houses and churches with hand-drawn art that tells the story of Jesus’ first Advent.

They make their homes ready for the King! They rest on the shoulders of the King.

They dance and march from one end of the mountains to the other, declaring: “Prepare the way for the coming of the King.”

Christmas Eve will be an all-out Vigil, with songs of proclamation and prophecy, fulfilling the ancient words spoken.

Evangelists and priests climb into trees shouting and preaching the good news throughout the night (now THAT is preaching).

(Story taken from The Living Church, “Waiting for Jesus in the Sudan,” on pp. 24-25 in Issue December 18, 2011)

Does the evidence change—all the time? This year the genocides of the Nuba Mountains will resume. Cross, Crucifixion and Blood will be the lot of the people who climb tress to preach the good news.

But—-We rest on his shoulders and he is our bearer!

Does the evidence change?

Or…. Do WE Change?

The people of Nuba are not blinded by the material world of human-made fancy and dreams. They sing as they march from village to village and mountain to mountain: “We are following Jesus. WE have taken up his way. We are carrying the cross. We will not deny him.”

For, the pieces of the China may not arrive in time. For, our loves ones may not see another Christmas.

For, the genocide might come.

For, a nation like the United States will not accept its moral responsibilities and painfully, awfully allow another Rwanda, another Darfur—another holocaust to happen. (As a member of the Sudan Committee of the Diocese of New Jersey, I ask your patience with a call, in this season of Advent and spirit of the Prince of Peace for the people and church of Sudan!)

But—a family will give a gift of China to their Mom and strengthen her will to live.

But—we will rest upon the shoulders of a little child—in the second naiveté of faith…

And we will be changed into the Likeness of the Child more and more..

And we will always be a family that gives gifts

We will always be a family that refuses to let evil, sin, and Satan steal our joy.

We will always sing and preach joy in the trees and on the mountains..

We will not deny who HE made us to be.

And…Christmas will always be a story of our Mother’s Christmas China…

A sermon for the Fourth Sunday of Advent, December 18, 2011, preached by the Rev. Hugh E. Brown, III, D. Min., preached in All Saint’s Episcopal Church, Princeton, New Jersey on Isaiah 9:6

Happy Christmastide!

Wed, 14 Dec 2011 22:48:00 -0500

CHRISTMAS SERVICES

Sunday, December 18

10:00 AM Service of Lessons & Carols

Music of Howells, Ledger, Parsons, Mendelssohn and more followed by Rite I Eucharist

Christmas Eve (Saturday, December 24)

4:00 PM Family Service with Rite II Eucharist and Christmas Drama (featuring live animals!)

9:00 PM Choral Eucharist (Rite II)

Christmas Prelude of Carols and Hymns beginning at 8:30 PM.

Christmas Day

10:00 AM Christmas Service with Rite II Eucharist

NOTE:

Please take a moment to familiarize yourself with the new web format. Here are some updates we’ve made:

New layout

Sermons page

Mission page

New streaming features on the music page.

New photo capabilities

Photographs by Anna Harmon

Wed, 14 Dec 2011 22:35:00 -0500

Photographs by Anna Harmon

Going to the Other Side of the Street

Wed, 14 Dec 2011 21:00:00 -0500

A sermon preached by the Rev. Hugh E. Brown, III, D. Min., Rector, All Saint’s Episcopal Church in Princeton on The Third Sunday of Advent, December 11, 20111 on Isaiah 61: 1-11

Going to the Other Side of the Street

“Strangers shall till your land and dress your vines.” Isaiah 61:5

Archbishop Desmond Tutu, the great South African Anglican leader and revered world leader like to tell the story of a homeless and distorted man who crossed the street and accosted a Pedestrian, asking him, “I say, which is the other side of the street?” The pedestrian, somewhat nonplussed, replied, THAT side of course! The man retorted: “Strange. When I was on that side of the street, they said it was on this side!”(From God Is Not A Christian: And Other Provocations, by Desmond Tutu, p. 5)

As Archbishop Tutu says, “Where the other side of the street is depends on where we are.”

Like it or not, our religious perspective shapes our context and vision. It is one of our most formative influences, helping to determine how and what we apprehend of reality. In the first two weeks of Advent, we heard the prophet Isaiah take us to the other side of the street and challenge conventional religious viewpoints.

During the first week of Advent, we heard Isaiah proclaim the subversive prayer of the lament tradition of prayer; lament is a prayer style of protest. Conventional wisdom asks us to passively accept our suffering as fated, as beyond our understand, as deserved, as beyond challenge to God. No, says the voice of Isaiah. God is a God you wrestle with, challenge, confront, question—and dialogue with. His Word is always good news—but only after the struggle. In the Second Week of Advent, we heard the prophet Isaiah issue this challenge to the people: You are released from exile. You can come home. You can change.

Conventional wisdom may say that our life is over. Punishment is perpetual. No—God is always the God of the Second chance. Or course that is also challenge. It is safe to stay stuck and to stay in exile. Life—the struggle for real life is much more difficult. Homecoming and accepting the new life God desires for us is often more difficult than perpetual exile.

Both of these Isaiah, “on the other side of the street” messages have something in common: Life with God is always good. But…life with God is also difficult, entails suffering, and challenges us, pushes us and stretches us. This kind of comfort and challenge, this kind of “other side of the street” religion continues with another passage from the prophet Isaiah.

Like the voice of Isaiah, Chapter 40, we find in the Word from Isaiah Chapter 61 read this morning—a message of hope in suffering for the people of Israel, a message of homecoming in exile, a good word to a people reeling from the threat of eternal punishment and ruin.

Unlike Isaiah, Chapter 40—we have a remarkable transformation and deepening of the original promise: Israel’s well-being is tied to universal well-being for ALL. (Isaiah in Advent: The Transformed Word, by Diane Jacobson in Word and World, Texts in Context, October 4, 1990)

Yes the prophet proclaims that God is bringing good things to a people long beaten down. Their steadfast faith, even in exile is yielding rich fruit: Because of this faith they will be called, “Oaks of Righteousness, the Planting of the Lord.”

But, the Tree of Israel and the Oak of Righteousness does not only grow for its own benefit. So says Isaiah, “For as the earth brings forth its shoots, and as a garden causes what is sown in it to spring up, so the Lord God will cause righteousness and praise to spring forth before ALL the nations.”

Indeed, “strangers shall tend and feed your flocks, foreigners shall till your land and dress your vines; but you shall be called priests of the Lord, you shall be named ministers of our God. You shall enjoy the wealth of the nations, and in their riches you shall glory.”

Can we hear this? Can we hear this ringing call that salvation for God’s chosen and elected people is completely bound with the salvation of ALL of people. Indeed, for this section of Isaiah, the very purpose and mission of the people of God is the immersion and connection with all.

We are all priests and ministers of the Lord AS we honor the strangers who till the land and dress our vines, as we share the wealth of nations. Jesus heard this message of inextricable connection among all people When he came to Nazareth to begin his ministry according to Luke’s Gospel, he choose a scroll from the prophet Isaiah and spoke from this passage to define his own ministry:

“The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me because he has anointed me, to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives and release to the prisoners; to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor—to comfort all who mourn.”

Desmond Tutu, during his days leading the anti-apartheid movement in South African would issue a clarion call for the world’s help and involvement with his struggle Ubuntu. Tutu explained that in traditional African society, Ubuntu means, “a person is a person” ONLY through other persons. In traditional African society, it was the most important possession a woman or man could have—more than the total wealth of land.

My reading of Isaiah Chapter 61—which Jesus used as his own mission statement—is a call for God’s people to be Ubuntu people. This call takes us to the Other side of the Street and challenges the conventional voice of our culture that tell us: You are on your own.

No, those who have Ubuntu, God’s people as “Oaks of Righteousness,” their fate bound up with “strangers who till the land and dress our vines,” are about this:

They are compassionate and gentle; they use their strength on behalf of the weak, and they do not take advantage of others; in short, they care; they treat other persons as human beings. They define success as only the success of all.

O my does this definition of “success” as mutual benefit take us to the “other side of the street” in both religion and culture in America-and the West.

To quote Desmond Tutu:

“The West’s individualism has often meant that people are lonely in a crowd, shattered by their anonymity. This is what makes it possible for people to pass by on the other side when a someone is raped; to be a passerby when you don’t want to become too involved. People in the West have been brought up in a culture of success where stomach ulcers have become status symbols. The worst thing that can happen is to fail. And that culture easily dismisses people as expendable, discardable, and, because they are poor or unemployed, they are judged to have failed.”
“Ubuntu teaches us that we belong to one Family—God’s family. The greatest good is the common good. Indeed we cannot be good apart from the common good.” (God Is Not A Christian, by Desmond Tutu, p. 23)

Jesus took Isaiah 61 and the concept of Ubuntu one additional step towards the “other side of the street.” When he read from Isaiah 61 to begin his ministry as depicted in the 4th chapter of Luke, he made an amazing omission. No it was not omission as gaffe as in Presidential Debate fodder; it was purposeful.

Jesus left out the line, “The day of vengeance of our God.”

Yes, Jesus took biblical religion to another side of the street in the ultimate way of Ubuntu; we are bound even to our enemies. The spouse of a prominent Anglican voice for peace-making , a church leader in her own right named Christine, tells of her conversion to Christianity and how it happened.

During the Battle of Britain in the Second World War, German bombers, accompanied by German fighters, were regularly bombing London and other English industrial centers and ports. On these sorties, they were intercepted by fighters of the RAF and the skies over England were alive with dogfights.

If the bombers did not drop all their bombs on their major targets, they would offload them on the English coast on their way back to Germany, which made Worthing, her home city, a secondary target. In one air battle over Worthing, the RAF Hurricanes and Spitfires brought down a German bomber. It plunged nose first into the hills of the South Downs. The German crew of four were all killed. The people of St. Marty’s went out and retrieved the bodies of these airmen and provided them with a Christian burial—and the Vicar of St. Mary’s provided them a Christian funeral.

This was a defining lesson for the Christine. There was something more to this Christianity that meant you treat your enemies with respect and that this religion transcended divisions—even in warfare. In 1963 the remains of these Germans were disinterred and moved to a permanent burial spot in Dusseldorf.

Christine, although Baptized as a young girl, learned of this story through church elders as a teen. She would take a candle and light the candle in the cemetery near the buried German soldiers.

One day she felt a strange warmth and light; although not sure about its meaning—she desired Confirmation and true commitment to the Christian faith. She said that she felt a connection to these by-gone enemies of her own nation—but an even profounder connection to a power calling her to the ministry of reconciliation among current enemies and adversaries. She has been at it ever since.

(The Above Story is taken from Bishop John Spong’s work, Here I Stand)

This Advent, I invite us all to “go to the other side of the street” and practice empathetic connection to all! For we belong to one another as we are in Christ and in God. Let us go to the other side of the street—and truly bring Good news to ALL. Amen!

What story are we In?

Wed, 14 Dec 2011 19:10:00 -0500

A sermon preached by the Rev. Hugh E. Brown, III, D. Min, on the Second Sunday of Advent, December 4, 2011, Year B in the Revised Common Lectionary on Isaiah 40: 1-9 and Mark 1:1-8 in All Saint’s Episcopal Church, Princeton, New Jersey

What story are we In?
“Behold Your God!”

In the year 587 before the birth of Jesus Christ, an occupying power, the kingdom of Babylon, invaded Southern Israel; the temple in Jerusalem was burned, the holy city was destroyed, the Davidic dynasty was terminated, the leading citizens deported. Public life in Judah came to an end.

The Babylonian overlords and military, as did empires of the day, carried many of the defeated Jews into exile.

Exile: It certainly entailed great suffering, physically and emotionally. Think of exiled peoples everywhere and their stories of survival.
But exile was about another challenge of equal or greater weight; it was about more than mere survival. It was about story—about narrative. It was about identity.
Who are we? What reality do we accept?
The bible does not describe the struggle and reality as between the Jews and the Babylonians—between what we might call faith and culture.

No the struggle for identity and the wresting with a controlling narrative was around the people and their God.

The narrative struggle was not about whether God existed. It was not about whether God was just.

Last week, I described the narrative struggle over the 64th chapter of Isaiah as about a God of darkness or light, about God’s goodness and mercy.

About 40 years later, a voice or a community of voices, against all the evidence spoke.

The voice believed it spoke for a Higher Power; Not the power of the reality, powers and structures of Babylon.
It spoke for a far greater power—the God of Israel.
The message of this God: I’m bringing my people (yes still my people) home from exile.
The narrative that my people are writing is the wrong story. The story my people are buying is contained in the following words and in their voice:
“All people (namely we!) are grass; their constancy is like the flower of the field. The grass withers, the flower fades, when the breath of the Lord blows upon it; surely the people are grass.”
Faded Grass; withering; broken; dying. Life-Draining; Punishment; Desolation; or….just plain tired and worn out.
And yes—we find one similarity to Isaiah’s Lament in Chapter 64 last week. God is behind much of this. His breath is just retribution for sin.

3.

Breath-Wind-Power; in the Old and New Testaments, God’s breath is the source of life; what an amazing transformation for the people’s perceptions of reality; are we in a story of life or death? God’s breath, life-giving, now becomes God’s spirit and power—death dealing.

Isaiah does nothing to disprove that God does punish justly and fairly. He does nothing to diminish God’s power to build up and tear down. “See the Lord comes with might, and his arm rules for him; his reward is with him; and his recompense before him.”
No weak, powerless God is this; this is the God of the Exodus; the God of Liberation; this is the God who broke the back of Pharaoh and led his people through the wilderness; this is the God who tore down the walls of Jericho and broke the power of the Philistines—and fed the people with bread. This is a God of miracles.
And we, God’s people, have really messed things up with this God. No wonder his breath is no longer anything but the source of our—-desolation.
I remember several times in my life when another’s life-giving breath became the source of—my pathos.
When I betrayed a friend once—I’ll never forget hearing/feeling his breath when confronted with what I had done. When I stood beside a loved one and heard her breath and knew I could do nothing to help; every rhythm of her breath on my skin felt akin to consuming fire and every ebb and flow of her air to my face felt like wind blowing chaff—away.
How awful in any relationship—you just can’t trust it again. Can’t trust yourself; can’t trust the other to trust you. Can’t trust mutual regard any longer. As the character played by Emma Thompson in the wonderful Holiday film, Love Actually tells the husband who betrayed her; Shall I stay? But also know that nothing will ever be the same? “All people are grass; their constancy is like the flower of the field.”

Exile will do that to a soul; the soul of a person; the soul of a people; exile will do it to even the most fundamental relationship—with God.

No-the true exiles are never fundamentally in strange lands. The true exiles are matters of soul-stuff; betrayal; abuse; torture; brutality—the stuff giving rise to perhaps the most fundamental of life’s questions: A new story? A new narrative?
Yes, the same story in some ways with the same characters; but renewed—hoped into being—forgiven.

No, nothing will ever be the same—but something new—rock-solid—steady—trustworthy—and life-giving?

The God of Israel, through his prophet, his forthteller, his spokesperson, Isaiah, writes a new story:
It is not the story of rejection, desolation, desertion and exclusion from God’s promises.
It is the story of commitment, grace, solidarity, forgiveness; God’s people are human, prone to inconsistency, sin and being just plain lost. Yes, the people are grass.
But God’s people do not need to stand on their own strength—which may seem as desolate as the withered grass of the field . God’s people stand on these words: “Comfort, O Comfort my people says your God. Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that she has served her term, that her penalty is paid, that she has received from the Lord’s hand double for all her sins.”
The first cry of a new story: Mercy, Pardon, Release—but not only that—newness; Your story is not about punishment first and last; your story is about the potential of redemption from mistakes and misjudgments.

Yes, Isaiah’s God is the God of the second chance, the third chance, the fourth chance, the seventy times seven chance—the infinite number of chances—and finally the Father who welcomes even the Prodigal Son home.

“In the wilderness, prepare the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert, a highway for our God. Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level and the rough places a plain. Then the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together.”

The second cry of a new story: Exodus—once again-freedom-redemption, liberation, self-governance, independence, and life under God’s reign.

The second cry of a new story—the power of our God to set free—even from the deepest mistakes, mess-ups, betrayals, heartaches, disappointments, hurts, and bad judgments. With God, in the words of the welcome sign to Princeton House, a treatment center for the depths of mental illness: “we may be wayward, but we are never truly lost.”

The third cry of a new story—Behold your God! Yes, he is a God of recompense and reward, justice, judgment and right. But, he is also the God who “will feed his flock like a shepherd; he will gather the lambs in his arms and carry them in his bosom—and gently lead the mother sheep.

The third cry of a new story of the authentic God of Israel—it is to the city of Jerusalem as she awaits the return of her exiled children. The city itself peers out into the desert and proclaims to the other cities the return of the exiles, but also the victorious God.

But this victorious God is not the bloodthirsty warrior God of empire, ruling by violence—but he one ruling with another kind of power—strong and mighty—through gentleness, tenderness and love.

We, God’s people, yesterday and today, are cradled with the arms of compassion.

Thus, we have the perpetual struggle with two ongoing narratives within the human soul.

One story—The breath of the Lord damns because—well—we are not worth anything else. No redemption; no forgiveness; always exile. Thus say the warrior God of recompense alone.

Another story—-The breath of God, God’s word is the final WORD—always providing a new start—new life—new hope—new possibility. Yes, God may damn—but always to bring forth our transformation and indeed our Salvation.

Three calls from Isaiah to shape this story: Mercy, Freedom and Compassion.

Hard, Dark, Difficult—But always—about the possibility of New life. There is nothing weak about compassion; there is nothing unloving about true justice. There is no final exile with God’s word.

I share with you the following scene from the Television Series, Private Practice.

Although taken from the annals of popular culture, this story is an all too familiar story of exile—and an always possible journey—of homecoming.

This two part series aired a few weeks ago ended with one of the lead characters giving the hotline for those who dare to offer a word of “Comfort, Comfort, My People”… to those in the exiled land of substance abuse.

A story of exile and homecoming: Everyone is stunned to see Amelia walk through the doors since she’s been MIA for twelve days. All of her friends are assembled in the main lobby. A woman named Lenny is there to help—with an Intervention. They try to convince Amelia to listen—to sit down—to get help. Amelia lets loose a vicious verbal assault. She “outs” all of their secret faults and past mistakes. With one friend after another she unleashes a venom-filled smackdown.

They stay; they do not move; they do not leave; but they do not bend. They cry—wither a bit like grass—fade in and out under such oppression from the darkness of that place called addiction.

“He will gather his lambs and carry them in his bosom.”

Amelia is scared as she walks through the door of the rehab facility. Addison, her friend, is right beside her as she takes the first step on her 50-day journey to getting clean and sober.
“He will gently lead the mother’s sheep.”

Amelia rooms with a young girl named Hailey. The two of them go through the painful detox process together. “You have bugs all over you; I have bugs all over me”—Hailey screams. I got to get out of here! I can’t do this! “Hailey”—it is your veins, they are on fire right now—I’m a doctor,: Amelia, groans under the pain of withdrawal; “I’m right here—we will do this together.” And on the bed, a young girl and a young doctor hold one another, Amelia—never letting go of Hailey—as they, together create a new Exodus.

“Every valley shall be lifted up and every mountain and hill be made low; the uneven ground shall become level and the rough places a plain.”
“He will feed his flock like a shepherd.”
It’s Day 50 of Amelia’s Rehab. All of the Private Practice docs are gathered at Addison’s place for Thanksgiving.
They are about to share a blessing and begin a shared meal. Amelia walks in. She walks into the presence of those she cursed—those she abused—those she assaulted when they were at their most vulnerable trying to help her a few weeks before.
“Is there room at the table for one more?” Says one friend, “Always.”

Is there life beyond exile? Beyond the faded grass? In the Wilderness

“The grass withers, the flower fades, but the word of our God will stand forever.”

Is there life beyond addiction, abuse, betrayal, brutality, rejection, sin and all matter of the forsaken—and the lost?
Cries Isaiah—Cries God: “Comfort ye, O Comfort ye.”
A place at my table?

Of course there is. For what story are we In?

Note: Two articles formed the thoughts and foundation for this sermon:

*”Isaiah in Advent: The Transforming Word,” in Word and World, October 4, 1990, by Diane Jacobson, professor of Old Testament at Luther Northwest Theological Seminary in St. Paul, Minnesota

*Walter Brueggemann, “Second Isaiah: An Evangelical Rereading of Communal Experience,” in Reading and Preaching the Book of Isaiah, ed. C. Seitz (Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1988)

December 6, 2011

Tue, 06 Dec 2011 12:39:00 -0500

Updates:

Tuesday, December 6

Men’s Bible Study at 7:00AM at Panera Bread on Nassau Street

Book Study on Pilgrim’s Progress at 8:00AM at Panera Bread on Nassau Street directly following bible study for ALL

Wednesday, December 7

Holy Eucharist at 9:30AM; Rector’s study on the works of Martin Luther at 10:00AM Women’s Fellowship Book Study at 7:30PM

Sunday, December 11

Third Sunday of Advent: 8:00AM—Holy Eucharist, Rite I, 10:00AM, Holy Eucharist with special music for Advent and Sunday School

Parent’s Class at 9:00AM in the Library

Adult Forum: The Rev. Dr. Karl Morrison, Medieval Mysticism, Part II at 11:30AM

Special Advent Outreach Project: Baking for the Children of HomeFront at Noonday in the South Room

Sermon

Advent II

December 1, 2011

Fri, 02 Dec 2011 16:40:00 -0500

December 3

Advent Quiet Morning - 9AM to Noon

“Voices of Advent,” led by the Rector, the Rev. Hugh E. Brown, III, D. MIn. In the Parish Library Sunday,

December 4

- Holy Eucharist, Rite I at both 8:00AM and 10:00AM with special Music for the Second Sunday of Advent and Sunday School during the 10:00AM service.

- Confirmation Class at 9:00AM in the Library

- Parent’s Class at 9:00AM in the South Room - Knitting Sale to Benefit Crisis Ministry following both the 8:00AM and 10:00AM service

- Adult Forum: The Rev. Dr. Karl Morrison on Medieval Mysticism at 11:30AM (Part I)

Sermon

Advent 1

November 21, 2011

Mon, 21 Nov 2011 18:21:00 -0500

Please check out our advent schedule HERE!

November 24th

10:00AM at All Saint’s Church, Holy Eucharist, Rite II and Traditional Thanksgiving Hymns.

November 27th - First Sunday of Advent

8:00AM - Holy Eucharist, Rite I

10:00AM, Holy Eucharist, Rite I (Lighting of Advent Candle by parish families, and Special Music for the Advent Season)

11:30AM in the Parish South Room: Family Advent Wreath Workshop following the Liturgy of Holy Eucharist

December 3

Advent Quiet Morning from 9:00AM to 1:00PM, featuring the work of Henri Nouwen, Anne Lamott, Thomas Shaw, and Martin Smith

December 4th & 11th at 11:30AM

Adult Forum Lecture: MEDIEVAL MYSTICISM “The Religion of the Heart” A special calling to live in the presence of God with The REV. Dr. Karl Morrison

Sermons

November 15 (The Rev. Dr. Sean Wead)