January 20th, 2009 = HUGE

There are many, many things I would like to say about the inauguration of Barack Obama on January 20th. I can't fit them all into one blog post, and if I tried to say everything, it would come across as bumbling. So allow me attempt to convey a few thoughts about the momentous occassion that will occur in just under 12 hours here in Washington, DC.

When he was elected, I stood in my den and watched his acceptance speech with my then-two-week old son. I was not afraid to weep. Today (January 19th), Emily & I took Ollie down to the National Mall to see the sights and sounds of the day before what may be the most historic presidential inauguration in American history. Emily & I were amazed. Simply amazed. It wasn't just the sheer numbers of people. It wasn't the name and face of Obama (and his family) on just about anything you can imagine (the football jersey was my favorite). It was the level of energy that everyone had. It was like 10 football fields worth of 7 year olds on Christmas Eve. As I told Ollie on November 4th and again today, he may not remember any of this, but we will never let him forget.

Don't get me wrong. It was a mad house, and I can't imagine how it will be tomorrow. (We will be watching from our TV.) But everyone was really glad to see each other and people were patient and kind and just glad to be a part of the moment.

All of our problems will not be solved simply because Barack Obama is sworn in as President, any more than simply buying a vaccuum cleaner will make your carpet cleaner. It will take work, it will take sacrifice and most of all it will take courage and patience.

I thought Bishop Gene Robinson's prayer before the concert yesterday was quite amazing. Here is the video of it with a link to the transcript.




Without a doubt, our nation and our national leaders stand need of prayer. Inspired by the Rev. Linda Kauffman's sermon on Sunday, I will be setting the alarm on my cell phone to remind me everyday at noon to pause and pray for President Obama. I invite you to do something that will remind you to pray for him, too.

Tuesday is a huge day, a day which our nation has been longing for and needing. I am excited to be in Washington, DC, for it, and more proud than ever to be an American at this time in history.

Advent 3, Year B Sermon

December 14, 2008
Advent 3, Year B, RCL
St. Stephen's & the Incarnation Episcopal Church


For many Christians, there are passages of scripture that hold a special place in their heart, bringing back good memories of family or friends or bringing comfort in troubling times. For my grandmother, it's Psalm 121. For my dad, it's the Pentecost reading from Acts 2 because he gets to read it in Russian. Today's reading from the Prophet Isaiah is one of my favorites. And let me tell you why.


In August of 2000, I was preparing for my first official event as the youth council coordinator in the Diocese of West Tennessee. We were hosting a dinner for diocesan youth leaders at St. Mary's Cathedral in Memphis. Next door to the Cathedral is Diocesan House, which housed the Cathedral and Diocesan staffs, and was where attendees were gathering for wine and cheese before dinner. (This was, after all, an Episcopal event.) I was a bundle of nerves as I headed down Poplar Avenue from my office to the Cathedral. I was looking forward to seeing friends, but there were going to be some people at this dinner who had been, well, shall we say, less than supportive of diocesan youth ministries in the past. I was glad they were coming to the dinner, but I was working myself up to defend the youth council against any disgruntledness they may have had brewing and feeling the need to vocalize. So, I'm thinking about these things and jamming out to some music in my car, and two huge fire trucks barreled past me with speed I'd never seen on a city street during rust hour. I looked towards the skyline in front of me, and I saw thick, black smoke just beyond the trees up ahead. About 17 seconds later, I realized that the fire trucks were heading to the same place I was: Diocesan House and St. Mary's Cathedral. Flames and smoke were pouring out of the top floor of Diocesan House, a 100 year old Memphis. After screaming a few colorful words in the safe confines of my car, I found a place to park and went running up to the scene. Luckily everyone on the Diocesan and Cathedral staffs were able to get out before the flames got out of control. Needless to say, the dinner wasn't going to happen. My rector had heard a report on the radio and called my cell phone to ask how bad it was. Just as he was asking, a fireman turned on the hose and blasted out the Bishop's office window on the third floor. It was a pretty bad day for the Diocese of West Tennessee.



One of the events we were going to promote that night was a clean-up project in the neighborhood behind the Cathedral as part of the efforts around the Jubilee Year. We'd hoped to have a huge turn out of young people to help be repairers of the breech in the poorest Zip code in Tennessee. That event was slated for the end of September, and I was really unsure of how we were going to get as much support and turnout as we needed if we didn't have the face-to-face time with these youth leaders to promote the event. But through the grace of God, the devastation of the fire brought us together. The Dean of the Cathedral called me and insisted that the Cathedral not just be a staging ground for the event in September, but that we start the day with a Eucharist at the Cathedral and then process en masse from the Nave to the neighborhood. He pledged to make sure the entire diocese was invited and would come. He wanted the Cathedral to make a statement in both word and liturgy that the entire neighborhood was going to be rebuilding together.



The Old Testament Reading for that day was the same one we heard this morning from Isaiah:



The spirit of the Lord GOD is upon me, because the LORD has anointed me;
he has sent 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,
and the day of vengeance of our God;
to comfort all who mourn;
to provide for those who mourn in Zion—
to give them a garland instead of ashes,
the oil of gladness instead of mourning,
the mantle of praise instead of a faint spirit.


They will be called oaks of righteousness,
the planting of the LORD, to display his glory.


They shall build up the ancient ruins,
they shall raise up the former devastations;
they shall repair the ruined cities, the devastations of many generations.




Hearing those words and acting on them was one of the most powerful things I've ever done. The Diocese of West Tennessee was setting out to restore a place that was near to the hearts of many in Memphis; and the people of the Diocese were going to work to restore lives and bring hope to a neighborhood that desperately needed it. This was a journey we were going to go on together.



It is hard to read this passage from Isaiah and not feel some level of pending triumph over oppression or devastation. Years of history of the Episcopal Church in Tennessee had been reduced to dust on that August day; but this was nothing compared to the hopelessness that hung like a cloud over the Cathedral’s neighborhood. Diocesan House and St. Mary’s Cathedral had stood as a beacon of hope during the Yellow Fever Epidemic in 1878 and in the days following Martin Luther King’s death in 1968, and they had every intention of being that beacon of God’s love and restorative power again.



This chapter of Isaiah is nestled between chapters about destruction and judgment. But this section, chapters 60-62, is about the righteousness of God, the goodness and uprightness of God, the faithfulness of God. Just look at all the things that God is going to bring about though the chosen people of God: gladness will replace mourning, people will have praise dripping from their tongues and not timidness, building up of ancient ruins and the repair of ruined cities. There are parts of our country and our planet that could certainly use some building up and repair.



The main theme of this part of Isaiah is, as one scholar says, "salvation and nothing but salvation." The way is being prepared for God's everlasting covenant with the people of Israel. The people of Israel will have to go through division and destruction and captivity to get to that covenant, and although they will turn their backs on God, God does not turn the Almighty back on the Israelites. Every step of the way through their history, God was preparing for the restoration of the Kingdom through the covenant that will not be written on stone tablets but on the hearts of all.



That everlasting covenant is continued in the work of Jesus. The fourth chapter of Luke tells us that Christ reads this passage in the synagogue in Nazareth, and he declares ‘Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.’



How many of us would have the guts to stand up and say, “I’m the one bring this scripture to life and fulfillment.” Hopefully none, since there was only one person who could fulfill those scriptures. But the Son of God sees this passage as an affirmation of his own call and ministry. Christ takes this call to bind up the brokenhearted and proclaim the year of the Lord's favor, and he lives it out by not only feeding the poor and healing the sick, but by empowering his followers to do the same.



Advent, one of my favorite times of the Church year, is our time to prepare, or re-prepare, to encounter Christ in the world and to make a place for him in our hearts. Advent is a personal time and a corporate time. It is a journey we take together. We may find ourselves in different places on the journey, but we are on that journey as a people of God, making space in the world for the righteousness of God.



Our call as followers of Christ is to continue to proclaim release to those held captive, physically, emotionally and spiritually. We are called to be the oaks of righteousness, displaying the goodness and glory of God to all we meet, and to share our hope in Christ. We have an opportunity each day to prepare a place for Christ in the world by preparing a place for him in our hearts.



That warm September day in 2000 saw nearly 400 people of all ages clearing land, picking up trash, and repairing homes, bringing hope and love to the neighborhood behind St. Mary's Cathedral. Some of those disgruntled youth leaders even showed up with their young people. The staffs of the Diocese of West Tennessee and St. Mary's Cathedral were in that mix. They moved back into Diocesan House about nine months later, and continue to reach out to their neighbors, bringing them the light of Christ.



May we continue to prepare for Christ, bringing good news to the oppressed, binding up the brokenhearted, and comforting all who mourn, and may each of us be the light of Christ that the world so desperately needs.

AMEN

Blanche Emily Curry Loyd

The sermon I preached at my grandmother's memorial service on Saturday, November 29th, 2008.

We gather today to celebrate the life of Blanche Emily Curry Loyd. She will be remembered as a mother, grandmother great-grandmother, wife, friend and devoted companion. She was married to Howard for 36 years, and lived with him and their daughters Marilyn & Suzanne in a pile of places around the world. After my grandfather died in 1980, she met Carl, and Carl has been in her life and our lives ever since. Carl was by her side through thick and thin over the past 27 years and was a grandfather figure to all four of her grandchildren.

As Blanche lived all over the United States and abroad, she made sure that her daughters experienced the culture of where they were stationed at the time, living off-base so that Marilyn & Suzanne could be part of the larger community. She made especially sure while they were living in England in 1952 that Marilyn, at age 4, was well aware of the significance of the coronation of Queen Elizabeth the Second, which happened not too far from where they were living. Suzanne was born just a few weeks after the coronation, and Marilyn still wonders why she couldn't go to the palace to play with Charles. They are the same age after all!

When they were living in North Dakota, Blanche & Suzanne got to spend a lot of quality time together while Marilyn was in school in Philadelphia and Howard was working in Biloxi, Mississippi. Every Saturday night, the two of them would polka to the music on the Lawrence Welk Show. And you know it had to be some authentic polka dancing since Blanche grew up in and around first generation European Americans whose native dance was the polka. That same, cold, North Dakota winter, Suzanne and Blanche got flu shots. The shots must have worked like a charm since they both got the flu and were laid up in bed for several days.

She was the Girl Scout cookie chair when her girls were active in the Scouts. Marilyn & Suzanne both remember the house being wall-to-wall cookies ever year. Blanche wasn't ashamed to call her self the "great scrounger" for things that the Girl Scouts needed. She knew someone would be willing to donate whatever they needed as opposed to having to spend the money on it. She was a supportive mother who always wanted to give her girls more, but was almost always home when they back from school.

Blanche was a smart woman, and she had high aspirations for her daughters. There was never any question that both of her girls would go to college. They not only graduated from college, but have earned advanced degrees. She took great pride in her children and her grandchildren, and she must have done a good job, seeing how well both daughters turned out, and in turn, how well all four grandchildren turned out. :) The success of her grandchildren, of course, would not have been possible had she not personally picked out her sons-in-law.

She took the Civil Service exam at age 20, and scored high enough that she was offered a job with the State Department in Washington, DC. The offer came in the mail only a couple of days before her brother Wilbur tragically died in a coal mining accident. Her father didn't tell her she couldn't go to Washington, but he asked her to stay in such a way that she couldn't say no.

She was also known for being able to throw a feast which could not be out-done. We had to have two kinds of Ba-tatoes, at least two kinds of meat (one of which was ham), at least three things from a casserole dish, the marinated mushrooms & onions, and a dish of black olives for Patrick & I. That was just for starters. Then there was dessert...

She and her favorite granddaughter, Emily, spoke the common language of earrings, always bringing each other earrings or compare their latest bounty.

One of the qualities of Mama B that I will always remember is that she was not afraid to tell you what she thought. She was rarely a warm & fuzzy character, and might have been one of the most blunt people I've ever known. Moment of truth: Raise your hand if you were ever on the receiving end of one of Blanche's opinions. To borrow a line from the late Jerry Garcia, she wasn't often right, but she was never wrong. I've told this story on more than one occasion, and my wife knows I'm going to tell this story even though she's back in Washington with our son. At our wedding, we were waiting around for pictures and while my wife was in pictures with her parents and grandparents, I went to say hello to my grandparents. My dad's dad shook my hand offered his congratulations, and my dad's mom gave me a big hug and said it was a really beautiful service. Mama B gave me a kiss on the cheek and a huge grin and said, are you ready for it, "I'm sure as hell glad you didn't marry that other girl you were engaged to." I wasn't quite sure what to say. Her timing was awful, but I couldn't disagree with her: I was glad I didn't marry that other girl, either.

The other memory I have of Mama B is of her determined spirit. Apparently, when she was a young girl, her mother wanted her to wear a particular dress for some occasion, and little Blanche did not want to wear that dress. So she put her hands on her hips and declared, “I’m six years old, and I can do whatever I want.” And the tone was set for the next 82 years. The “I can do it” attitude carried her through her Rosie the Riveter Days in World War Two and through the many moves while Howard was in the Air Force. I remember one Thanksgiving weekend about six or seven years ago in Knoxville, she watched from the front window as my dad and sister and I tossed a football around in the front yard. Next thing we know, she’s out there with us, telling us how she used to beat the boys in football games in her neighborhood. And wouldn’t you know it, she punted the football right there in the front yard. All because she said she could.

It would be easy to think of her death as the end; the end of these stories of her life and how she has impacted everyone in this room. However, we are a people of Resurrection. We know that death is not the end; it is merely the beginning of new ways to be a blessed and beloved child of God.

Blanche Emily Curry was washed in the indissoluble waters of Baptism, welcomed and marked as one of Christ's own nearly 88 years ago at Zion Lutheran Church in Frackville, PA. That promise of God's presence was with her in Pennsylvania, the Philippines, Guam, Kansas, Louisiana, England, North Dakota and right here in Macon. It is a promise that Jesus made to his disciples and that the Apostle Paul echoed in today's readings. And the promise of a close and abiding relationship with God is that our hope is not in this life, but in the life to come. Just as Blanche is no longer with us in person, we can be reminded of her presence and impact in our lives. We can see a little bit of her reflected in all of us who are gathered here. And we can give continual thanks to God for all that she taught us and all that we will continue to learn from her.

May we remember not only Blanche, Mother, Mama B, but also the gifts God has bestowed upon each of us, and may we continue to be the light of Christ that the world so desperately needs to see.

AMEN