Homily for Sunday, June 9, 2018
Day of Pentecost
John 14:8–17, 25–27
Did you notice, when we came into church this morning, that the church’s doors open outward? All church doors open outward. And (if we are up to code) all church doors have breaker bars so that we can’t be locked in. Which is good because, in case there’s a fire, it means we can get out.
Old timers in these parts—and I mean old timers; those of us who are in our 80’s are probably still too young to remember—often will remember two significant events from Boston’s past: the “Great New England Hurricane of 1938,” and the Cocoanut Grove nightclub fire in 1942. Continue reading
Homily for Sunday, April 21, 2019
Easter Day C
This morning I am going to do things a little differently: I am going to tell us the point of the homily right now at the beginning, and then I’m going to go back and make it. The point of the homily is this: the bodily resurrection described in the Gospels is not so much about Jesus’ bodily resurrection as it is about our bodily resurrection. And to give a little “teaser” in the form of a blatantly partisan statement… More than the other evangelists, John “gets” it. Continue reading
Homily for Sunday, January 6, 2019
Preached at St John’s, Newtonville
As a young man in his early twenties, the poet Rainer Maria Rilke traveled with his girlfriend and her husband to Russia. Whether it was the Russian land or people, or Rilke’s encounter with the Orthodox Church, or perhaps his travel arrangements that led to an extraordinary burst of creativity, we don’t know. What we do know is that upon his return, over the course of 25 days, Rilke wrote his Book of Hours, 67 poems that grew out of his prayer at that time. They are wonderful! Here are the openings lines of #45:
You come and go. The doors swing closed
ever more gently, almost without a sound.
Of all who move through quiet houses,
you are the quietest. (I, 45) Continue reading
Homily for December 24, 2018
The Nativity, stained glass, St. Mary Star of the Sea, Duluth, Minn.
In “Five Minutes That Will Make You Love Classical Music,” a New York Times piece from this past September, the Times asked eighteen different people—critics, composers, performers, conductors—which five minutes of classical music would they play to help somebody fall in love with classical music. On the list were pieces such as the Finale from Stravinsky’s Firebird suite, the final Trio from Strauss’ Der Rosenkavalier, and “Liebestod,” from Wagner’s Tristan und Isolde, among others.
In addition to these “warhorses” that I might have expected were others that caught me by surprise. From Ravel’s Shéhérazade was the ridiculously beautiful aria “L’indifférent.” It’s absolutely gorgeous, with a text perhaps too racy to share from the pulpit on Christmas Eve… Anna Clyne’s Lavender Rain, a piece for violin written after the death of her mother, is 4 ½ minutes of music so simple—an ascending and then descending scale, basically, with a few chords for color—that it shouldn’t move one to tears, but it does. And Couperin’s Les Barricades Mystérieuses, in an arrangement for winds, is a playful series of dissonance and resolution that, again, is so simple that it shouldn’t be so beautiful, but it is. Continue reading
Homily for Sunday, November 25, 2018
Last Sunday After Pentecost—Christ the King Sunday
This past Veterans’ Day WBUR aired a special called “Exploring the Poetry of War.” Host Deborah Becker and guests Robert Pinsky, a poet on faculty at BU, and Brian Turner, who wrote poetry about his Army service in Iraq, discussed things like: what should be considered essential literature about war, like the memoirs of Ulysses S. Grant, or You Know When the Men Are Gone, by Army wife Siobhan Fallon. They shared with each other their favorite war poems, like Wilfred Owen’s “Dulce et decorum est,” or “Facing It,” by Yusef Komunyakaa. They talked about the senselessness of war. And they talked, too, about how it is that beautiful words could possibly go together with horrific violence. At one point Becker asked Turner: “Why did you use poetry to describe what happens on the battlefield?” Turner replied: Continue reading
Homily for Sunday, November 4, 2018
It is easy to forget, when we are here on Sundays, that the Church’s calendar is quite busy during the week. And when I say that the Church’s calendar is busy during the week, I don’t mean our mid-week meetings or Wednesday evening services, or all the activity with the Food Pantry and Birthday Wishes. When I say that the Church’s calendar is quite busy during the week, I mean that the Church’s liturgical “Kalendar” is filled with the commemorations of saints. For example, this week Tuesday is the feast day of William Temple, the Archbishop of Canterbury during the war. Wednesday is the feast day of Willibrord, an 8th century missionary and the first Archbishop of Utrecht in the Netherlands. Saturday is the feast day of Leo the Great, a fifth century Pope best known for his concise statement of Christ being two Natures in one Person. And—if you really get into it—you can go online and google “Episcopal saints calendar” and explore those saints whose commemorations have been proposed but who yet await official approval. On that list are all of the above commemorations plus… Thursday is the commemoration of St. Elizabeth of the Trinity, a Carmelite nun and mystic from the turn of the last century, and Friday is of Louise DeKoven Brown, an early 20th century American philanthropist, social reformer and suffragist. Save for tomorrow, every day this week is the feast day of a saint; indeed, of the 30 days in November, 25 are saints’ days. (November has some great saints: Lili’uokalani, the Last Monarch of Hawaii; St. Herman of Alaska, a Russian Orthodox monk and missionary to Alaska; the writer C.S. Lewis, and also Sojourner Truth.) These and other saints give witness to the many ways in which the Spirit manifests the life of Christ in the Church’s members. Continue reading
Sermon given by the Rev. Skip Windsor
October 28, 2018
Come Holy Spirit, come. Come as the wind and cleanse. Come as the fire and burn. Convert and consecrate our lives to our great good and your great glory; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
It is a pleasure to be with you this morning and I would like to thank your rector, Todd, for the invitation to be your preacher today on this your Consecration Sunday.
This Sunday comes in the midst of stewardship season recalling for me the words of a clergy colleague who started his stewardship sermon to the congregation with some good news and some bad news. The good news is that they had all the money they needed to operate the church. The bad news was it was in their pockets! Continue reading