Month: January 2024

Healing and Faithfulness

As is my custom, on Annual Meeting Sundays, I offer the Rector’s Annual Report (of the previous year) within the context of the sermon. This year’s Annual Meeting on the Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany, January 28, 2024 reflects on our life and ministry in 2023. The scripture readings are Deuteronomy 18:15-20, Psalm 111, 1 Corinthians 8:1-13, and Mark 1:21-28.

The terra cotta balustrade on the West Porch entrance to the Church, completed in 2023.

Rector’s Report for 2023

The scriptures for today can raise all kinds of questions for us. Among them, the first reading asks, “Who do we listen to?” The Epistle wonders, “What should we eat?” And the Gospel asks, “How do we respond when faced with what feel like demons or negative forces around us?” The scriptures work together to suggest that we listen deeply and closely to God. They suggest that we look to God for guidance, for direction, and especially for healing.

On this Annual Meeting Sunday, it’s this third aspect of God’s presence, healing, that I’m using as a lens for reflecting on our previous year together, the church and program year of 2023.

Last year, we continued to navigate the resurgence of Covid-19 and other viruses, but we did what we could to encourage and foster healing of mind, body, and spirit.

Healing through Worship and Programs
Every Sunday morning, Adam Koch and our choir have helped heal our souls. On Sunday nights, Calvyn du Toit and Joe Bullock have led our worship in beauty and style. I was especially grateful for Adam’s efforts and all those who sang in the summer volunteer choir, with between 20 and 30 people joining each month.

Thanks to Liz Poole, we resumed yoga in person, on Tuesdays, and each week, we’ve had between ten and twenty people come, most of them non-churchgoers.

Our programs have brought healing and equipped us to carry this sense into the community. We’ve done this through a variety of educational opportunities and especially through our summer Sunday morning meditation. Thanks again to Simone Crockett for guiding us in our centering prayer and meditation.

Last summer, Adam and I coordinated a new program we called, “Summer Sounds and Social.” At each of these hot summer nights, we felt God’s healing presence as we shared music, food, fellowship, and learning.

While I resist associating faithfulness with numbers, I am grateful that we are mostly back at pre-pandemic attendance in our worship services. Demographics shift, and some of our most loyal and faithful members have died or moved away, but we are excited to have new people finding us and making us their church home.

We were able to hear firsthand how Holy Trinity’s grant from the Global Mission Commission of the Diocese of New York is helping people in Iraq, when we had programs with SWIC (Standing with Iraqi Christians) and were able to provide hospitality and a dinner program with Father Jerjez and Mr. Kakrash from St. George’s Anglican Church, Baghdad.

Holy Trinity continued to be deepened through our friendship with St. Stephen’s, Rochester Row, our link parish in the Diocese of London. We shared a Lenten series on art and spirituality and co-hosted an online discussion of Artificial Intelligence and Theology. The Rev. Graham Buckle, vicar of St. Stephens, visited in the spring and parishioners from our parishes have visited each other.

Healing Spaces
I don’t think it’s too strong a term to speak of “healing” our building, and in this, we’ve been especially blessed by (“Dr.,” or perhaps “Miracle Worker”) Lu Paone and his team of “specialists.” They’ve detected leaks, repaired drains, averted electrical disasters, renewed spaces to allow income, and much more.

After a power outage zapped our old sound system, we were able to replace it last year. A former rector of mine used to say that the devil lived in the sound system at that church, and so, that sense, the sound system at Holy Trinity has been “healed,” and seems to be helping more people feel included in what we do, say, and sing.

Our columbarium addition was completed and installed last year, and it continues to allow for healing at the time of death, as the remains of loved ones are now able to rest nearby, here with friends, here with family.

Healing in the Community
The programs of Holy Trinity Neighborhood Center, Inc. offer healing every week through the Saturday Supper, regularly feeding between 85 and 100 people. Joe Lipuma and others have attracted new volunteers, and we continue to move closer to expanding programs we might offer from HTNC. I’m grateful to the HTNC Board and to our president David Liston, for all his energy and leadership.

The Thanksgiving Dinner preparation and delivery was again a great success, thanks to members and friends of Holy Trinity and St. Joseph’s: Pat Baker, Erlinda Brent, Lydia Colon, Gretchen Dolan, Mark Kushner, Jeff McCulley, Suzanne Julig, Beth Markey, Joe Lipuma, and Kristen Ursprung. Again, last year, we had a friendraising cookout that became a cook-in because of rain and featured live music by Nick Viest and his band.

Anyone who has volunteered in St. Christopher’s House basement kitchen has probably fought with the kitchen cabinets. A few of us have even been bruised or battered when one of the old steel cabinet doors fell off or one hurt a finger trying to open or close a drawer. But late last year, momentum shifted for a renovation.

A few years ago, a small gift was made and matched by the donor’s company. That money was set aside for future kitchen renovation. Last month, we learned that through the successful application of Christine du Toit, we received a grant from her company, the World Gold Council. That grant, to HTNC, was for $50,000 to be used for kitchen renovation, which means we now have $60,000 to update and renovate the kitchen. We can’t do everything, and we know that there are some obstacles we cannot overcome, short of several million—such as ventilation issues and accessibility—but we are excited about making significant improvements, and perhaps even attracting more funds for future work. Stay tuned for more information.

We continue to work closely with Health Advocates for older People, Inc., and stay in close contact with Search & Care. But our closest neighbor is obviously the Merricat’s Castle School and its parent organization, The Association to Benefit Children. They are not only our major tenants in the Mission House, but they are also friends and family. We congratulate Merricats on its 50th anniversary this year and continue to give thanks for our visions of community and the support of children and families.

Healing through Community and Collegiality
Community and collegiality offer their own healing, and again, in 2023, we have been blessed by the volunteer faithfulness of the Rev. Deacon Pam Tang, the Rev. Doug Ousley, and the Rev. Margie Tuttle.

I’m grateful to our vestry, especially Treasurer Christine du Toit, and Secretary Paul Chernick, and to the Wardens Chris Abelt and Jean Blazina. Completing terms or rotating off vestry were Scott Hess, Leona Fredericks, and Donald Schermerhorn. Thanks to Chris Abelt and Jean Geater for standing for reelection and to Christine for agreeing to be appointed treasurer, even though term limitations require she not be on vestry for one year.

We have a sharp Investment Committee led by Jean Geater. At least quarterly, Jean, Christine du Toit, Franny Eberhart, Tony Milbank, and Alden Prouty met to keep an eye on our investment advisors and portfolio management. Thanks to Alden, who has stepped off that committee. We also have a wise and careful Budget and Finance Committee. Each month Chris Abelt, Jeanne Blazina, Christine du Toit, Jean Geater, Carol Haley, Kate Hornstien, and I meet to take a close look at the numbers. With their help, we are careful with our resources and aim to improve our stewardship in whatever way we can.

In 2023, we grieved the loss of several beloved members and friends of the parish. We mourned the loss of Allison Hajnal, Stephen Kramer, Harry Martin, Slade Mills, and of course, the former rector of the parish, the Rev. Bert Draesel. At the end of February, we celebrated Bert with a full church, several bishops, his family, and much of his music. Later last year, Ada Draesel gave Holy Trinity Bert’s personal piano, which is now in Draesel Hall, continuing Bert’s legacy of creating community and healing through music. Later this year, we’ll move into the public phase of raising money to restore the bell tower and get the bells ringing again in Bert’s memory.

As we look towards the future, I pray that God’s healing presence will surprise us with that attitude found in today’s Gospel, so that we become amazed and ask one another, “What is THIS new thing God is doing?”

There’s already new healing on the horizon. The Rev. Margie Tuttle is going to help us pray, think, and reactivate a healing prayer ministry during our 11:00 AM worship service.

Over one thousand daffodils, courtesy of Simone Crockett and a bunch of volunteer planters, is expected to sprout this spring in our garden.

With new members and friends of the parish, special occasions and celebrations marking our 125th anniversary, and a new Bishop of New York, we look forward to the many ways in which we can continue to move with God’s Healing and Life-giving Spirit.

On occasions like the Annual Meeting, I’m inclined to quote the words of St. Lawrence the Deacon. In the 3rd century, as the Roman emperor was trying to take all the treasures of the church, Lawrence was summoned before the emperor. He demanded that Lawrence turn over the church’s wealth. Lawrence gestured to the people around him, all those who made up the church—rich and poor, healthy and unhealthy, and said to the emperor THESE are the church’s treasures. The church IS truly rich, far richer than the emperor.

In good years and bad years, we have each other. Thanks be to God for the previous year, and may God bless us as we move forward.
Amen.

Redeeming “Evangelism”

A sermon for the Third Sunday after the Epiphany, January 21, 2024. The scripture readings are Jonah 3:1-5, 10, Psalm 62:6-14, 1 Corinthians 7:29-31, and Mark 1:14-20.

I had a friend in college who loved to compete. Every minute he wasn’t in class he was playing basketball. He was also a devout Southern Baptist, considering going off to seminary after college. Had you asked anyone on our floor, he would have been “most likely to be a minister.”

Rick had a routine for Saturday mornings. He would drive to his hometown, about an hour away, round up a few kids from his youth group, go to a public park and play basketball. The idea was to start a pickup game and eventually draw in strangers. At some break in the game, Rick would begin to talk about the youth group, his church and his own faith in Jesus Christ. He would very casually invite any of the new kids just met to join them all for church the next day, to come and hear more about Jesus and God’s love for all people.

My friend would refer to this Saturday morning process as “winning people for Jesus.” In other words, if someone were introduced to the Christian faith in the process of hearing about Jesus, praying to God, reading a bit of scripture, and promising to pattern one’s life after the life of Jesus, then that person had been “won” to Christ.

Now, I fully understand if that sort of evangelism seems completely intrusive and makes your skin crawl. There have been times when I would have said that that sort of thing had to do with a completely different understanding of Christianity. While I have not ever, and can’t imagine ever, being called to “basketball evangelism,” there is something in my friend’s perspective that I admire and I think we can learn from. In the notion of “wining” people for God, there is a sense of urgency.

There’s an old preacher’s story about the devil and his generals trying to mount a new offensive on Christianity, to try to make Christians ineffective in the world. The generals all gather together and the first suggests and idea. “What if we try to convince Christians that there really is no God?”

“No,” says the devil. “That will never work, too many Christians already have a strong sense of God.” The next general stands up and says, “I have it. Let’s convince them that there really is no difference between good and evil, between right and wrong.” But the devil shakes his head again. “No,” he says, “too many already know the difference and think it’s important. We’ll have to think of something else.” Finally, the third general steps forward. “Sir,” he says, “my idea is a little subtle, but I wonder if we might encourage them to continue believing in God, encourage them to distinguish between good and evil, but we simply suggest to them that there’s no hurry in any of this. There’s no need to rush, no need to worry, no sense of urgency.”

I think there is some hurry, and there is a certain urgency– because too many people are being lost. I’m not talking about church statistics, nor am I worried about denominational statistics. I’m talking about something much larger—about losing more and more people to violence— violence in the streets, violence in the home. We lose too many people to addictions, addictions of habit or need. We lose people to lives lived in compulsion, those who are never happy no matter how many things they may buy; happy no matter how many places they have traveled; happy no matter how many people they have used.

There are just too many people living lives that seem to have no purpose, lives lived in a hopeless circle of meeting immediate needs but never making space to recall why it is we might work, in the first place.

Evangelism has to do with sharing our faith. It has to do with sharing good news. It has to do with sharing a bit of ourselves with other people, whether it involves saying something about Jesus Christ through words, through prayer, or through actions. Evangelism, at least as I see it, is a matter of winning and losing. It’s not about church growth or meeting the goals of the budget or putting people on committees—it’s often life and death. It’s about life lived as fully as possible.

In today’s Gospel, the urgency shines through. Jesus calls Simon Peter and the Andrew. These two brothers are busy fishing, casting their nets, making their livelihood. But Jesus makes another offer. He raises the stakes. “Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.” Jesus calls James and John and invites them to drop what they’re doing, but even so, to use the skills they already have and apply them to a larger purpose. This new purpose will carry them into dangerous waters, indeed, as they are led into messy, untidy, uncontrollable and unpredictable places of faith.

We, too are called to “fish for people” or rather, we’re called upon to use whatever skills, abilities, or gifts we might have in order to help others know the love of God through Jesus Christ. We may be called to teach for people, to cook for people, to build for people, or to listen for people. Whatever it is we may do, in meeting Christ, we have the potential for our everyday work to become ministry and mission. In our teaching, in our cooking, in our building, in our talking and praying and listening, we offer Christ; we fish for people.

At Holy Trinity, we’re pretty good fishers, fishermen and fisherwomen. Some of our members, as individual fishers, are outrageously successful. But it seems that, as a church, our style has not been so much to go out on the high seas or the deep water, but rather to be a little like a lobster trap. If one should wander our way and come inside, then one finds we have quite a lot to offer.

For a few years, we’ve used a slogan on our website and elsewhere that simply says, “The Church of the Holy Trinity: To show and share the love of God.” That’s a great mission and a holy mission. But to what extent do we really do that?

Lobster traps work. But I wonder if, at some point, we aren’t called to respond to that sense of urgency, the urgency of the gospel and the urgency of our own world. What would it look like if we were to fish for people in new ways?

For some, if might look like inviting a neighbor to church some time. It might look like getting involved in a new mission project and bringing people from church with you. It might look like our forming new mission relationships with some of the new refugees who have come to New York City. Or maybe others who need friendship and support around us, or further away—in Central America, the Middle East or Africa. Fishing for people might look like our sitting at a table in our garden on a hot, summer Saturday, just offering water to people who go by. Fishing for people can involve mission and hospitality, evangelism and publicity, music and ministry in all shapes and forms.

Jesus has promised to be with us always. He has told us we should never fear. With hope, and faith and joy, let’s go fishing. In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

When God Visits

A sermon for the Second Sunday after the Epiphany, January 14, 2024. The scriptures are 1 Samuel 3:1-10(11-20), Psalm 139:1-5, 12-17, 1 Corinthians 6:12-20, and John 1:43-51.

Whenever someone is coming to Holy Trinity for the first time to meet with one of us—whether it’s the secretary, the music director, or a sexton— I think we usually try to figure out how the person is going to be arriving.  We want to know their approach to the building so that we can be ready.  If the person needs to roll something inside, then we meet in front of the Mission House, by the ramp.  If they are coming to the main church, then the main doors are the obvious place. Sometimes the 87th Street entrance is probably best, other times the Mission House, for the Parish Office. If it’s the boiler room, well, I need to ask, which of the three boiler rooms do you mean?

When we know how someone is coming, we can be ready for them.  We can recognize them.  We can receive them properly.

If God were coming to Holy Trinity for a special visit, it would be the same.

I would probably inquire which entrance would be most convenient.  I would want to be ready.  I would want to be prepared, and I would especially want to recognize – to see, hear, and apprehend God—upon God’s arrival.  But, as the famous old hymn sings, “God moves in a mysterious way, his wonders to perform.”

God moves in a mysterious way.  God approaches in a mysterious way. God appears in mysterious ways, and today’s scriptures show us several.

In our first reading, the boy Samuel is sleeping in the hallway of the temple. He’s an apprentice there, so he must have been familiar with the sounds of the place at night.  And so when he hears a voice, he assumes it’s the voice of Eli, the old priest whose service he is in.  Samuel is probably 11 or 12 years old and, as an apprentice at the temple knows about God, even if scripture says “he did not yet know the Lord.”  He must have known all the great stories of the faith, something of the prophets and priests and characters.  But he did not yet know God well enough to recognize God’s voice when he heard it.  Or, even at a young age, Samuel might not have seen or heard God coming.  Samuel might have expected God to come from a different direction, with a different voice, in some different guise.  He would have had certain impressions and ideas about who God might be, and how God might work—he doesn’t seem to have been ready for God to rouse people out of bed in the middle of the night. Samuel’s expectations, at first, don’t allow him to hear God.  But old Eli helps Samuel to realize God in the vision.  He helps Samuel realize God in the nighttime, in a vision, in prayer, and in the silence.  

Before we look at our second reading, Paul’s letter to the Corinthians, I think we need first to admit that Paul, himself, had problems recognizing God.  Before his vision of Christ on the road to Damascus, Paul persecuted Christians.  He did his best to wipe them out.  Even after his conversion, even within his preaching and writing, Paul struggles with inner and outer demons that do their best to obscure his vision, to cloud his understanding and limit his perception of all God would do.  Paul understands God through reason and rhetoric.  And like a lot of us, his own thinking sometimes gets him into trouble.  But Paul is wired that way.  He has to think things out and talk them out.  Paul embodies those words of Walt Whitman:  “Do I contradict myself?  Very well then, I contradict myself.”  (Song of Myself)  Paul is large.  Paul contains multitudes.

And so, Paul is probably the perfect person to preach to the church in Corinth—a worldly, sophisticated congregation.  The Corinthians liked to enjoy life, and didn’t always know where to draw the line, and so they were constantly getting distracted by things that would take the place of God for them.  But Paul encourages them to look no further than their own two feet. Start with your own body, Paul says.   Give thanks for the body—even as it ages, get creaky and worn, stops working correctly and often misbehaves.  He says, Stop looking elsewhere for joy or gratification or affirmation—give thanks for the miracle that is each one of us.  God has raised and blessed and hallowed the Body.  Therefore respect it, give thanks for it, take care of it. Look at your hand in front of your eyes and realize God even in the body.

In our Gospel, it’s Nathanael who almost misses God because he’s expecting God to come from a different direction—to look and sound different from this country boy, Jesus.  But here, right in front of him, is the One.  Christ doesn’t come from Rome, or any of the other great cities.  He hasn’t traveled the world.  He doesn’t come from some far away, exotic, rich and wonderful place.  Instead he’s from Nazareth.  If you go to Nazareth today, it’s not a whole lot different from when Jesus was there, except there’s probably a lot more plastic. We can almost feel and join in Nathanael’s disappointment.

But Jesus senses this.  Slowly, in that Christly charming way he has, Jesus begins to talk to him. Jesus talks through him, almost.  Jesus lets himself be known by Nathanael.  And Nathanael sees something in Jesus, and wants to follow.  “Rabbi!” is his simple statement of faith and trust.  “You are the Son of the God, the King of Israel.”  To which Jesus simply smiles and says, “you haven’t seen anything yet.”

The scriptures ask us today, “Do we see God when God comes?  Do we notice?

Or are we busy preparing in the wrong place.  Is it like when we’re expecting a delivery at church, and so we’ve unlocked doors, moved things around, turned on lights, and are ready— only to realize that the person making the delivery is standing patiently on the other side of the building, in a place that is better for them to enter?   Do we ever do this kind of thing spiritually?

God might meet us in church or in a vision or in silent prayer, like it was for Samuel.  Or God might occur to us in our thinking and or in our conversation, like with Paul.  God might even come through a friend who point us in the way, who says “Come and see,” and so we go and see, and we meet the Risen Christ.

But God also might come in a hospital waiting room, in a fast food restaurant, in a board meeting or an AA meeting, in a family gathering or on a first date.  God enters our world not so much when and where we think we’re most ready.  But rather, God comes where God wills.  “God moves in a mysterious way, his wonders to perform.”

This weekend offers a number of opportunities to remember the work and words of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.  He had his own version of “come and see,” as he brought people together to work for Civil Rights.  God came to him in through suffering and heartache, through human frailty and his own human nature, but God eventually came in a dream that could be named and offered to others—the dream that

“ . . . little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character.” A dream that, with Isaiah, “one day every valley shall be exalted, and every hill and mountain shall be made low, the rough places will be made plain, and the crooked places will be made straight; and the glory of the Lord shall be revealed and all flesh shall see it together.” [“I have a dream,” delivered August 28, 1963]

And so, in concrete, particular, everyday ways, God has come and keeps coming as we live into the dream for civil rights, for human rights, and for all of God’s dreams to be realized.

The Good News of our scriptures today and the Good News of the faith that is in us is that God comes.  God visits.  God surprises.  God startles.  God sweeps us off our feet.  God picks us up and draws us close.  God comes—not always when we’re most prepared, but God comes always when we are most in need.

Thanks be to God for the power of his visitation, the power to knock down doors and fill our lives with love and with hope.  May we realize God’s presence and share God’s power.

Baptism and Defying Gravity

A sermon for The Baptism of Our Lord Jesus Christ, January 7, 2024. The scriptures are Genesis 1:1-5, Psalm 29, Acts 19:1-7, and Mark 1:4-11.

You may have seen the news this week as Governor Hochul and Mayor Adams announced plans for a new swimming pool. This summer, a floating, self-filtering pool in the East River is going to be tested, and hopefully can be opened free to the public next year. New York City needs more swimming pools and we need more swimmers. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention has cited drowning as the leading cause of death among children 1 to 4 years old.  The Governor added, “If you don’t know how to swim, what you think is a refuge, that break, can become a death trap in an instant.” (NYTimes, “Floating East River Pool May Open to Public Next Year Under Hochul Plan,” January 6, 2024.)

Swimming might seem simple to those who learned early, but if you think about it, swimming is kind of amazing. Swimming gives us power and agency in the water. We’re not defenseless. We don’t have to be victims. We may have to struggle, but there’s a way forward. Swimming is a way that we have of dealing with the uncertainty and danger of water.

Throughout the biblical story of our salvation, water plays an important role, is often dangerous, scary, and threatening. In Genesis, “darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters.” But God creates form and matter and order out of the water. The disciples fish on the water, but the smallest storm leaves them terrified. Jesus walks on the water, not just doing a kind of magic trick to amaze, but more to show that the God of Creation always has, and always will have power over the unruliness and the deadliness of water. And so, swimming overcomes the chaos.

A little like swimming, Holy Baptism represents God’s movement through creation, and the sanctifying grace that not only saves us from sinking but gives us new life. Baptism not only enables us to swim in faith, it picks us up to surf!

When Jesus asked John the Baptist to baptize him, he was simply doing what some other faithful Jews might have done—immersion in naturally sourced water cleansed and purified. It could mark an important change or a conversion. It prepared one for presentation at the Temple. But for Jesus to be baptized, it meant even more.
It meant that the Son of God, the human expression of God in our world, was taking on himself the uncleanness and sin of others, falling into water, but raising out again. Baptism and the cleansing of sin foreshadows resurrection and the renewal of life.

Though baptism can seem like a sweet custom to do whenever there’s a new baby, the words and prayers we say remind us of the radical nature of baptism.

In baptism and in the renewal of baptismal vows, we say that we will resist evil and the ways of the devil, and that when we fall down, we’ll get up again and turn to God.

In baptism, we affirm that all people are made in the image of God, and so we refuse the hierarchies and pecking orders of the world, and work to seek and serve Christ in each other.

In baptism, we remind ourselves and the world that there is more to life that what we do for work, or where we went to school, or how much money we make.  We name the injustices and wrongs in the world, and we pledge to strive for justice and peace. We refuse to go along with stereotypes and prejudice and instead, aim to respect the dignity of every human being.

More than swimming, more than surfing, even, baptism, gives us power over the currents that shift and challenge. We could say that baptism helps us defy gravity.

“Defying gravity” is the title of the well-known and much-loved song from the musical Wicked. A recent podcast on BBC4 talks about how important that song has been for so many people. It has provided strength, encouragement, and hope. [Soul Music: “Defying Gravity” from Wicked.]

[You can listen to the song here.]

You may remember the story of Wicked. The so-called Wicked Witch of the West, whose name is Elphaba, was born with green skin.  Being green, looking different, she feels the pain of growing up different and she longs for acceptance. Since the musical premiered in 2003, Elphaba’s story has hit a chord with anyone who has ever felt marginalized, left out, or looked down upon because they were different. And so, Elphaba’s song at the end of Act I marks a change in her, a defining point where she decides no longer to be ruled by the expectations of others, the perceived laws of nature, the prejudices and fears of the people around her. The song, “Defying Gravity” becomes a victory song, a kind of ALLELUIA, as Elphaba claims her voice and begins to forge her own path.  

Though the song is not religious in a traditional sense, it touches the human spirit, and I think, has much of the spirit of God within it.

Elphaba experiences a kind of conversion, a coming to her true self, an acceptance of a Higher Power, as she sings,

Something has changed within me
Something is not the same
I’m through with playing by the rules
Of someone else’s game

Too late for second-guessing
Too late to go back to sleep
It’s time to trust my instincts
Close my eyes and leap

And then, almost with wings of faith (I think) she sings

It’s time to try defying gravity
I think I’ll try defying gravity
Kiss me goodbye, I’m defying gravity
And you won’t bring me down.

As followers of Jesus Christ, as baptized people, something has changed within us. We’re done playing by the rules of culture or political expediency. We seek justice and life for all. It’s too late to go back to sleep. Time to trust our God-given, and Spirit-infused instincts, and with faith, close our eyes and leap.

Fear can’t bring us down. The news of the world can’t bring us down. Temporary setbacks, health challenges, and those with no faith or hope—won’t bring us down.

With Christ always at our side, we’re defying gravity.

In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

The Name of Jesus and Our Names

A sermon for the Holy Name of Our Lord Jesus Christ, January 1, 2024. The scriptures are Numbers 6:22-27, Psalm 8, Galatians 4:4-7, and Luke 2:15-21.

The Presentation of Jesus in the Temple, Holy Trinity, North Apse

I’ve never really had a nickname.  For the most part, I’ve always been John.  That’s with an H, and it’s not short for anything—certainly not for some longer form adding “a’s” in unexpected places.  It’s just plain John.

There was a short time in college when my two good friends were also named John, and that presented a problem whenever we appeared together.  At that point, one became Jack, another “Tersh” as an abbreviation of his last name, and me—I became JB.  Being Jack, Tersh, and JB, we all relinquished our “Johnship.”

But a lot of people do have nicknames.  In fact, there are a couple of people I could name for you ONLY by their nickname.  If I had to come up with the person’s given name, I couldn’t do it.  When I’ve been around people with nicknames, there’s a question often put to those people.  And it’s a question the church asks us today:  What’s your REAL name.  You may go by “such-and-such.”  Your family may know you by something.  And you may even think of yourself by a certain name.  But today what’s your real name?

In Judaism the real name of God is thought to be so sacred, so beautiful, and so powerful that it’s never said out loud.  Instead, observant Jews often refer to God by saying Adonai, meaning “The Lord,” or simply “HaShem,” meaning, “The Name.”  Is Islam, there is power and help in praying the 99 names of God.  I love one Sunni scholar’s interpretation of the number 99.  He says, “Allah is odd.”   “Allah is odd [being one—an odd number] and loves odd numbers.”  [Muslim ibn al-Hajjaj Nishapuri, Sahih Muslim].  Names are important.

In The Episcopal Church, today is called The Holy Name of our Lord Jesus Christ. In the Roman Church today it’s a special day for the Blessed Virgin Mary, but even there is a focus on a name—the name given to the mother of Jesus.  Their official title of the day is the Solemnity of Mary, The Holy Mother of God. Theotokos, the word meaning “Mother of God” is quite a name.
It is a name given by the faithful, adopted by the Church; a name argued about and a name prayed to.  Mary got a new name and on the 8th day, Jesus a name.

Eight days after the birth of Jesus, his parents take him to the temple for the customary circumcision and naming. Jesus is circumcised and dedicated. His mother is blessed. And Jesus is given the name that the angel Gabriel had said he should be given.  He is given the name that is a form of the name Hebrew name Joshua.  Jesus means, “salvation is from God,” or “salvation is from the Lord.”

Talk about a big name:  Salvation. His name means that he saves.  In Christ we receive a new name, and it’s a name that saves.  The life of Jesus saves us from a life lived only to the self. The words of Jesus save us from anything or anyone who would demean us or suggest that we are anything other than a child of God.

The healing of Jesus saves us as we pray for wholeness and try to extend his healing to others. The laughter of Jesus saves us from despair. The welcome of Jesus saves us in from the cold. The death of Jesus saves us from the fear of the grave and from dying without a purpose. The resurrection of Jesus saves us from the power of sin to keep us down, the resurrection saves us sin, it saves us—many times—from ourselves.
Jesus saved not only from, but he also saves us for. He saves us for his father, so that God might delight in us his children. Jesus saves us for the kingdom of God, that way of believing and living with one another here-and-now as well as in the future, that way of lifting up one another, encouraging one another and loving one another. Jesus saves us for life—so that in any situation, in any misfortune, in any crisis or calamity we can look through the death to life and to life everlasting.

On this day we celebrate the name that saves and we also celebrate the fact that we share his name. Today being New Year’s Day, it’s a good day to think about our names. What names do we carry with us into this new year? Do they suit us?

Sometimes a name that has been given to us or we have given ourselves limits or restricts. Sometimes it even oppresses. The ongoing discussion about the problem of bullying in schools has reminded us of the power of name-calling.

Sometimes those names stay with us and it takes a lot to change them.  But that’s where God can come in.  Just as, in our first reading, God puts God’s name upon the people of Israel, so God names us.  Like the naming in the Book of Genesis, God calls us “good.”  Like the naming at the baptism of Jesus and at our own baptism, God calls us “blessed” and “beloved.”

As we think about a new year and think about those things we might like to do differently, there is the opportunity for us to take on a new name. Perhaps that name describes how you’d like to be in this New Year. Perhaps a new name marks a transition or a turning point for you. Perhaps it is simply a growing more deeply into a name you have already being growing into.

What might your name be this year?  Generous? Good? Patient? Supportive? Loving? Persistent? Merciful? Forgiving? Understanding? Industrious? Creative?

This January 1, what’s your name?  What’s your REAL name?

In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.