Faith in Progress

Next Sunday will be the first Sunday in Advent. "Advent" itself means coming, and, theoretically, at least, during the four weeks of this season our time is spent waiting and longing and expecting. But boy is it hard to wait. I took my kids to National Harbor earlier this week and they already have a mammoth, ball and star strewn Christmas tree hulking over the Awakening statue. Mount Vernon is bedecked for Christmas too. The people in that house on Collingwood with the incredible lights have been out staking up lights for weeks. The post-Thanksgiving sales in the malls have already started. How do we wait and long and expect when the world around us keeps pushing us ahead? There's a definite disconnect between the Church and the world all the time, but it's much more glaring than usual this time of year. Starting this Sunday and lasting throughout this season of Advent, we'll begin hearing stories about the Israelites waiting for the fulfillment of God&#

This school year I've been having fun with the Day School kids in Chapel. John will play his guitar or banjo and lead the kids in fun songs and I teach them great stories from the Bible, using as many props as I can muster. We're a good combination, I think. It has been interesting deciding which stories to tell the kids, deciding how to craft them so as not to traumatize the the children, thinking about the message/theology I hope to leave them with. I came up with a year plan that walks through some of the great Old Testament stories for the first few months, then will start into the great New Testament stories by delving into the birth narratives for Advent. Yesterday, we talked about Samuel anointing David as the next king of Israel. First, I talked a little bit about prophets, then a little bit about King Saul who had started out listening to God but then stopped listening and started doing his own thing. And then I morphed into Samuel, traipsing to Jesse's house

Pentecost 23, Proper 27 Psalm 127, Mark 12:38-44 I’ve been wondering this week whether John intentionally chose the pinnacle of stewardship season to head off on vacation. We’ve been hearing from parishioners about their pledging decisions, reading articles in the e-news and receiving letters at home. Next week you’ll get a pledge card. And the Gospel for this morning is clearly intended in our lectionary cycle as a vehicle for a fall stewardship sermon. The widow who gave all she had left to live on to the Temple treasury and was praised by Jesus for her faithfulness. Preachers everywhere are using this story for all it’s worth this morning. A friend forwarded me the letter her church had sent seeking pledges last week that quoted this gospel story. The letter talked about how the widow gave her best and how many of the people of that church clearly were not giving their best because their average pledge amounts were too low. Playing up the guilt factor to the hilt. The pr

Here it is, stewardship season, and the rector has left town and left me in charge. The nerve! The subject of money and pledging is uncomfortable anytime, but especially now with the economic climate. I suppose it would be possible to avoid the subject in Sunday's sermon, but not easily given the lectionary reading -- the poor widow and her mites from Mark 12:38-44. And it does seem important that the Church be part of the conversation about how we think about our money. Otherwise, the dominant voice is that of our culture, with commercials urging us to buy things we don't need, telling us we aren't attractive and successful enough without more stuff. Unfortunately, the Church doesn't always have this conversation responsibly. Sometimes we do exactly what Jesus warns against in the Gospel story, giving more respect to the "scribes" of our day, applauding the people that give the most out of their abundance. Sometimes we use guilt or bad theology to ope