21ST SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST 2015 PSALM 91:9-16I’ve discovered what I want for Christmas. And frankly, it is not something I just want, I need it the way a fish needs water. My life cries out for it. Like a gold bar, it bears the hallmark of treasure that mankind has pursued for centuries. A holy grail that has captivated people’s imagination, inspired their dreams, and stirred their passions. It has released the juices of novelists and whet the appetites of military strategists. In the wrong hands it could be a force for mischief, even evil. In the right hands it could liberate and protect. Regrettably, it has not yet been developed for consumers, so you won’t find it in the shops this Christmas, but I still covet one. It is the invisibility cloak. And it is real. The Material Science department at Lawrence Berkeley National Laboratory, have created it. I don’t have any interest in how they achieved it, so I won’t bore you with descriptions of 50-nanometer-thick layers of magnesium fluoride topped by a varying pattern of tiny, brick-shaped gold antennas, each 30 nanometers thick… Blah, blah, blah. I’m not interested in that, but I am fascinated by its possible applications, like sneaking onto a train to Chicago and slipping into Wrigley Field to witness the Cubs winning the World Series, all without spending a dime. I could also throw it over myself when I’m at my desk and pretend not to be there. But this is why I really desire one – all those moments when I wish the ground would open up and I could disappear - now my wish is within my grasp.

It would be the ultimate in protection. If no one sees you, no one can catch you. But what if there were a place of..... (Read the full Sermon here: God's invisibility cloak.pdf )

20TH SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST 2015 PSALM 90

Can you hear the cry of anguish? Do you catch the desperate voice? Can you feel the pained petition of the worker hoping, praying, pleading that his labor will be enough? She has sweltered in the heat of the day, lifted, carried, pushed, pulled, dug, sown, dealt, bargained, bought, sold. But will it be enough? He calls to God from a bygone age. He plows dust on his Kansas farm, barren sand where once rich soil thrived and crops flourished. “Prosper the work of our hands. O, prosper the work of our hands.”

He groans to God from a bygone age. He hammers at a coal seam deep beneath Scranton, chiseling a living for his family, breaking his back for hisvillage, risking his life for his people. “Prosper the work of our hands. O, prosper the work of our hands.”

She pleads to God from a bygone age. She stoops low in pain and humiliation, bowing before King Cotton, picking her white harvest under the brutal sun and under threat of a more brutal lash if her yield is deemed too small to satisfy her master. “Prosper the work of our hands. O, prosper the work of our hands.”

She beseeches God from the trading floor. She survives on the success of her last deal. She watches numbers on the ticker. She senses the tightness in her chest. feels the stress in her stomach, hides her sleeplessness in a pint ofcaffeine. She fears the downturn that would end her life. “Prosper the work of our hands. O, prosper the work of our hands.”

She implores God from the classroom. She carries the burden of shaping young lives, she shoulders the disapproval of public opinion, she is bowed down by the expectations and demands and the awesome sanctity of her task. “Prosper thework of our hands. O, prosper the work of our hands.”

He begs God..... (Read the full Sermon here: Prosper the work of our hands.pdf )

19TH SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST 2015 PSALM 8

I was mulling over my sermon this week. I’d decided that I’d preach on thePsalm because it’s brilliant isn’t it? “When I consider your heavens, the work ofyour fingers, the moon and the stars you have set in their courses, what is manthat you should be mindful of him?” It’s stirring stuff. So, I started to think aboutthat question - what are human beings, that God should be mindful of us? Nowin the best traditions of academic research, I knew that to answer this questionthoroughly I needed....

Read the full Sermon here: So what actually is a human.pdf

18TH SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST 2015 PSALM 124

I stooped next to his cot, looking down into his warm nest, watching his tiny chestgently rise and fall. We had transformed the spare bedroom into his nursery,impatiently biding our time, waiting for this very night. His second night on earth,his first in the place he would call home. O, the deep sleep of a newborn baby.Is there anything so tranquil, so serene, so perfectly blissful on all of God’s goodearth? A spotless new mind, untainted by fear and hate; eyes that have not seenviolence; ears that are strangers to the sounds of anger; a nose that is yet tosmell the decay of dreams; lips that have never twisted the truth; hands that don’tknow how to hurt. Alex was....

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SEVENTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST 2015 JAMES 3:13-4:3, 7-8

I came across a recipe. Not for food, sadly, but for a church split. It’s like a banana split but not as nice. First, you need 1 church. For best results, ensure that the pastor shall have been at this location for no more than 5 years, having replaced the former pastor who had been there since dirt and was greatly feared and revered by all as the Final Authority.

– Begin by placing a church building project in a large container and letting it sit forapproximately 3 years while berating the membership for more funds.

– Take one power-hungry music director and stir well. (If possible select a fresh pickedmusic director with dreams of being a traveling evangelist whose wife also plays thepiano.)

– Blend in a scandal involving a member of the flower committee whose offeringsprovide no less than 25% of the church’s annual budget. Be sure to fire at least oneother member of the flower committee who was well liked by no less than three fifths ofthe congregation.

– Divide the congregation into two heaps each aligned with a faction, so that both sidesmay accuse the other of gross heresies such as sometimes skipping Wednesday nightBible Study to go bowling in an establishment of ill repute wherein is played honky-tonk music.

– Season to taste with secret meetings, whispers in dark corners, and parking lotconfrontations. If a zestier flavor is desired, add a handful of lawyers.

– Take whatever part of the congregation that shall separate from the main body andplace it in a new building no more than three miles from the old building and call itGrace Church, being sure to appreciate the irony in the name. Hang on to that recipe,you will need it later.

Through the evening November gloom he could just make out the... (Read the full Sermon here: http://s3.amazonaws.com/dfc_attachments/public/documents/3212588/20150920_Sophia_and_her_friends.pdf )

SIXTEENTH SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST 2015 MARK 8:27-38

How much would you sell your name for? What’s your price? How cheap are you? Well, ten years ago the 201 residents of Clark, Texas took a vote to change the name of their town - not in itself an unheard of event. But as far as I can tell from reading Wikipedia (you see I’ve spared no expense researching this) it is the only town to change its name to that of a corporation in exchange for an inducement. So next time you’re heading down Texas way look out for the tiny settlement of DISH. And, just like the satellite TV provider who bought the name of the town, it is all in capital letters. So, how much would you sell the name of your town for, if a large corporation came along

and wanted to name it after itself? I hope, as people with great taste, that you would drive a harder bargain than the people of Clark (or should that be DISH). All they asked for was a free DVR. Seriously. Gimme a free Video Recorder and you can name our town whatever you like. If this were Roils-Royce or DeBeers then I’d be tempted to sell my personal name for one of the sponsor’s products, but a $100 DVR? To visit the Israeli town of Banias today you wouldn’t....

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FIFTEENTH AFTER PENTECOST 2015 MARK 7:24-37

Last month, as many of you know, I attended a writers’ workshop in Minnesota for clergy. I was one of twelve participants from many different churches, but I was the only Episcopalian. Now one of my colleagues was a professor of homiletics (that’s preaching) at a Roman Catholic seminary. And I thought I couldn’t pass up the chance of picking her brains. So I went up to her in one our breaks and said, “So, Anne.  September 6th - what are preaching on? Because I have a brilliant sermon. You know how throughout this workshop we’ve been studying metaphor? Well I’ve spotted the metaphor in the Gospel reading for Sept 6th. And I’m going pick up that metaphor on my own one-yard line, side-step the onrushing tacklers, sprint the entire length of the

field, score the touchdown, do my end zone dance, and even kick the point after.” And she said, “I hate sports metaphors”. And I replied, “that’s OK, because it’s not a sports metaphor. It’s spit.” She looked horrified. “Spit?” “Yes, spit! It’s there in the Gospel lesson. Jesus spits on the ground and touches the deaf man’s tongue and he is healed. It’s a great metaphor – Jesus takes a symbol of shame and disgrace – spitting at someone – and transforms it into a means of healing.” And then........

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THIRTEENTH AFTER PENTECOST 2015 EPHESIANS 6:10-20

A couple of years ago my brother-in-law Paul retired from his job as a police officer in the K9 division. Paul had two working dogs. There was the brilliantly named Fizz. Fizz was a springer spaniel with a personality that matched his name. I don’t know whether dogs can suffer from ADHD, but ifthey can then doggy psychiatrists could have held entire week-long conferences discussing Fizz. Maybe it was the natural energy of the springer spaniel that made him that way, or maybe it was his job. You see Fizz served at her majesty’s pleasure by sniffing out drugs, explosives and firearms. His sense of smell was 100 times more sensitive than that of a human being. Now poor old Fizz had to....

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ELEVENTH SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST 2015 1 KINGS 19:4-8

It had been the most traumatic few days of his life. As he sat under a bush in the desert he relived the momentous events that had driven him to this point – the lowest trough in his troubled existence. He went over in his mind the events of the last week, wondering if he had done the right thing, if there was something he could have done differently, wrestling with his inadequacies, his  hopelessness. And then there was God – the God he was serving. Wasn’t he actually the God who had deserted him? He had been obedient, he had served God faithfully, risked it all, and now it seemed that God had failed him,

abandoned him, left him like wounded quarry to be avaged by predators. Death was now a gentle friend – a kind helper who would soothe his conscience, calm his fear, take his hand, and walk peacefully with him into nothingness. He longed for that oblivion, the end of the conflicts and the fear. He even prayed for it. “I have had enough, Lord. Take my life.” But things had gone so well. 

He had just....  (Read the full Sermon here: http://s3.amazonaws.com/dfc_attachments/public/documents/3210425/20150809_The_Journeys_too_much_for_you-Eat.pdf )

TENTH SUNDAY AFTER PENTECOST 2015 JOHN 6:24-35

To listen to some health gurus you’d think that bread would kill you. It’s high in carbs and can spike blood sugar levels, it contains “anti-nutrients”, which sounds really scary. I’d never even heard of an anti-nutrient – but now I have I’m not sure I will ever sleep again. I’m having visions of anti-social particles wearing leather jackboots, menacingly patrolling your sandwich looking for nutrients, and when they find some, beating them unconscious and then drowning them in the mayonnaise. Apparently, even in its non-processed form bread may raise bad cholesterol by a whopping 60%. And so there is now a thriving industry devoted to the slogan “The more you eat bread, the sooner you’re dead.” There’s a satirical email going around that is headed “BREAD IS DANGEROUS”. It goes on to state that according to research .

Read the full Sermon here: http://s3.amazonaws.com/dfc_attachments/public/documents/3210109/20150802_The_hunger_no_one_sees.pdf