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[ Thanks to the editors of the Bible and our parish youth, we have just heard two renderings of the same story: one traditional, the other up-close and personal.] * They both tell the same incredible story: days after his death, the risen Jesus appeared to his traumatized disciples and ministered to their raw emotions.

Here is a story about doubt. Here is a story about new life. Here is a story about doubting Thomas…and US! Even though we were not blessed with his human presence, even though we are recipients of a story some 2,000 years old, the feelings described in these lines from John’s Gospel ring so clearly with the truth.

Consider: The week began with a hero’s welcome and crashed with an agonizing and humiliating death. The initial response of the disciples to these events is not a pretty picture! Scared, disheartened, grieving, they tried to buy time behind locked doors until they could figure out their next steps.

No, this is not an attractive picture, but, given the situation, it is so authentically human. I can definitely see myself in that group of devastated men. Can you? The last thing that I would expect is an encounter with the central person in my life who had just been violently ripped away… and even if my colleagues swore that this is what happened, my initial reaction would be skepticism, disbelief, doubt. That’s why the story of Thomas is our story, too.

So, what made the difference? What changed Thomas from a man numb with grief and doubt into an emboldened witness. Was it the palpable sense of Jesus’ presence? Yes, but there was more. Was it the reassuring greeting? Yes, but there was more. Above all, it was the reality of his wounds --- those brutal icons of Jesus’ love for his God and for others.

True, the spectacular can get our attention. The mysterious can stir a sense of awe, but when all is said and done, it is the power of love that turns lives around. If today’s Gospel is Exhibit A, here’s a story that may serve as Exhibit B.

In a frontier town of late 19th century America, a young boy was being raised by his grandmother. One night, their small wooden house caught on fire. The grandmother tried to rescue the child who asleep upstairs, but the smoke overcame her and she perished. A crowd of desperate neighbors quickly gathered. In their anguish, they could hear the boy calling for help, but the wall of flames that engulfed the house seemed formidable. Suddenly, a young man pushed his way through the crowd and climbed the drainage pipe which ran from the ground to the roof. The pipe was blistering hot, but the man made it to the second floor and disappeared through a window. Agonizing moments later, he reappeared with the boy and climbed down the hot iron pipe with the youngster safely on his back.

A few weeks later, a public meeting was held to determine who would have custody of this orphaned child. There were several qualified candidates: a successful farmer, the local school teacher, a prosperous banker. When they had all presented their credentials, the presiding officer scanned the hall and asked if there were any other applicants for parenthood. From the rear of the building, a young man slowly came to his feet. Speaking in a soft voice, he said, “ All these good people can offer the lad wonderful things which I cannot. All I have to offer is my love.” Then, he removed his hands from his pockets and the assembly uttered a collective gasp; both of his hands were wrapped in thick, white bandages. The young boy immediately recognized him as the one who had saved his life and ran into his waiting arms.

Yes, the spectacular can get our attention. The mysterious can stir a sense of awe. But, in the end, it is the power of love that changes lives!

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Nickie Kates

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

March 8, 2009

Trinity Loving Community

Good morning! My name is Nickie Kates. I am truly honored to be a guest in the pulpit of this beautiful and historic church.

Today I will tell you about a program I developed at my home church,Channing Memorial Church here in Newport. I am not a professional speaker and yes, I will follow notes. I give thanks for your attention.

And so I begin:

In the sanctuary of Channing Memorial Church there is an inspiring stained glass window called THE SOWER. It is a rendering of the famous painting by Jean Millet.

The sower carries a sack over his shoulder. The strap lays across one shoulder with the sack resting on the opposite hip. The sack is filled with seeds. The sower is dropping seeds with deliberation as he walks the terrain of the valleys and mountains. I am here with you as a sower. I come bearing the seed of Trinity Loving Community.

Twelve years ago, Channing Memorial Church was a small band of congregants trying desperately to maintain our beautiful sanctuary, buildings, and grounds. We had no minister - at all. We were completely lay led.

I had been ill and out of the Channing picture for many years. I’d known the isolation of long-term illness and was longing for reconnection.

One Sunday, having endured this alone and forgotten feeling, I stood at our pulpit and proposed Channing Caregiving Congregation. It is a program of not-at-all-random acts of kindness; a program of intentional response to the celebrations and sorrows of the Channing community. It is a thriving active effort in which the entire congregation is involved.

Once a year we collect an offering to fund stamps, cards and other tools for our ministry. Each month, two volunteer coordinators monitor the joys and concerns of our congregants and friends. These two coordinators and a cadre of volunteers provide those in need with food, rides, errands, visits, flowers, plants, and cards of joy or sympathy.

As the facilitator, my job is to provide continuity as each month brings new volunteer coordinators, evolving circumstances for those who have been in need, new names of those now in need, and the cessation of active service to those who have regained an equilibrium of wellbeing.

I also publish an article of personal congregational news in our monthly newsletter so that those who are absent from a service, those who are snowbirds, and those more chronically marginalized are kept abreast on news of our church community. Each aspect of the program is conducted under strict guidelines respecting every recipient’s wishes regarding privacy.

You also perform some of these same activities for Trinity members and friends. You have prayer groups, card senders, and more. Those performing these kindnesses to one another are deeply appreciated and will fit well into Trinity Loving Community – the name your leadership has given to this more intense, deliberate, and organized effort similar to the one at Channing Memorial Church.

We at Channing now have a full-time minister, The Reverend Amy Bowden Freedman. We’ve been blessed with a gem. Several years ago Amy, gave a Christmas Eve sermon that deeply affected me. The title? “What If You Were The Next Messiah?” We were provoked to examine our lives; were we living as Jesus did? (I must clarify that this was long before the popular and omnipresent phrase “what would Jesus do?” invaded everyday culture).

Well, I know, that considering my age and my difficulty with just trying to “be my best self” every day, I am NOT the embodiment of the second coming. As Trinitarians, I expect you also try to live your lives as Jesus did his. How are you doing? Jesus really had his own ministry, didn’t he? Well, that’s exactly what Channing Caregiving Congregation and Trinity Loving Care are – ministries, of, by and for the people.

Now that you understand the inspiration and the operation of shared ministry, I’m thinking that you’re thinking the installation of Trinity Loving Community all sounds very doable, right? Perhaps you are imagining that you are halfway there with all that you already do. Well, yes… and no.

TLC is, in its essence, the practice of shared ministry. Father David is not going to be the leader. He has worked very hard; he has devoted considerable time to learn about the project; adapt it to Trinity Church; and advocated to bring it to you. TLC is all about YOU. In that sense, again, it is wholly of the people, by the people and for the people.

There are wonderful people, programs, events, activities here at Trinity. I see this clearly. I have prayed these blessings continue. But today we must bring some troubles into the light.

I have heard from many of you – about the unpleasant surprises of learning your leaders have been as human as the rest of us; of parishioners who have departed – some quietly and some not so quietly; of some comments and judgments of those in authority in your regional church hierarchy.

Let me reassure you that you are not alone and that none of these events are uncommon; they occur in other religious communities.

But I am here with YOU; in YOUR spiritual home. And for you, all that happens here is unique and personal. I’ve been hanging around here since December, and as my knowledge of these events grew, I confess to you the first response in my heart, which quickly escaped my lips, was “Oh, you have been wounded.”

You may not all agree, want, or even welcome my sentiment. I must be clear. I do not intend pity – that which may make you feel small and powerless. Quite the opposite, as you will see shortly. But I do intend honesty and candor. We cannot proceed without it. I have prayed for this church community.

When I hear some people feel being here is like walking on egg shells lest someone’s feathers be ruffled, I pray that those of you who have clenched your fists in fear and restraint, will take deep breaths. Release your fists to open hands and see the beauty of togetherness take flight. For those with ruffled feathers, I pray you are blessed with tolerance, forgiveness, and maturity.

For those who have shared with me, “We just need a really strong leader,” I pray that you will realize you have the strongest leader you could ever hope for if only you turn to Him. He is known as GOD. No matter the personality, the strengths, and the weaknesses of your pastors – it is YOU, the congregation – YOU are the church. Your faith in God and one another must be actively cultivated and nurtured. There is no doubt in my mind that TLC can and will help you do this.

So this is what Trinity Loving Community is really about: Faith, Trust, Maturity, Sharing, Tolerance, Forgiveness, and more Faith. YOU are the chosen. YOU are the strong. YOU are the individuals who have walked the second mile for your beliefs and for this church. You are creating wonderful events and efforts here.

Embrace TLC and you will be blessed by God and by one another’s ministry. TLC is more than caring; it is deeds; deeds that are the exercise of the heart. It requires faith in God, in yourself, and in one another - and it results in the same.

The readings selected for today’s service are inspiring. In reviewing today’s readings from my King James Bible at home, I find particularly pertinent excerpts I’d like to share:

Mark – “as humans we must suffer many things….rejected by elders, chief priest.”

Romans about Abraham: “he staggered not… against hope believed in hope.”

Psalms: “your heart shall live forever...”

And especially relevant for my message today, Genesis: “be thou perfect… make a covenant between me and thee…”

make a covenant between me and thee…

When you partake of the covenant for TLC during next Sundays services, commit to attend the sequential trainings for three consecutive Sundays starting next Sunday, noon to 1PM.

Spend one hour a week with me to exercise your heart, demonstrate, and strengthen your faith. The seed I offer must germinate and be cultivated in and by you. I will be at your side with fullness of heart, sharpness of mind, and passion of faith.

I want to share with you that the illness that rendered me bedridden for years is still a great part of my life. I give thanks everyday to God, my children, and husband. As we began to accept the “foreverness” of my poor health, my husband George gave me a small gold cross designed in the fashion of stained glass. I’m wearing it today. A man of few words, his accompanying note said simply, “Keep the faith.” I leave you today with the same words: KEEP THE FAITH!

* Propriety property of Nickie Kates; not to be reprinted, quoted, or disseminated without permission of author Nickie Kates.

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The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

November 16, 2008

27 Pentecost

Use It or Lose It!

“ It’s not fair!” she said, her voice part sob and part snarl. “ It’s not fair,” she continued, “ my husband always took good care of his health and now this!” She was referring to the life-threatening illness that had attacked her husband’s body.

“ It’s not fair!” How often we hear those anguished words: a hard working, loyal employee of many years is suddenly let go; the most vulnerable kid in the class is the butt of ridicule; a young life is snuffed out just as it comes into blossom.

Whatever the circumstances, when undeserved disaster strikes, the human mind demands an explanation and demands a sense of equity! Absent that sense of equity, our gut reaction is to cry Foul Play! It ‘s not fair, we rage.

People sometimes respond to today’s Gospel parable that way. Before going on a long trip, a wealthy landowner leaves three of his servants with an enormous sum of money. Two of them invest their money and make even more while the third servant buries his gift --- and in the end, is stripped of everything.

One reaction to this story is protest! Wait a minute, we snap. That servant did nothing wrong. His treatment was horribly unjust. Perhaps, he was trying to be prudent. Perhaps, he was afraid of failure. Perhaps, he didn’t think his efforts would make any difference.

Any and all of these reasons might explain his behavior.

Fair enough. But, Jesus wasn’t using this story to illustrate justice. He exaggerated the details of this story to grab attention, and once he had that, this is the point he wanted to make:

Whatever gifts we have been given and in whatever quantity are to be used, not buried. Every talent, every gesture of giving, every life does make a difference. To disavow that is to disavow the inherent worth of the individual person. REFUSAL TO RISK, REFUSAL TO TRY, REFUSAL TO USE OUR GIFTS IS SOME WAY, IS TO SQUANDER THE PRECIOUS GIFT OF LIFE ITSELF!

In my reading recently, I found this poem which well describes the so-called “ one talent servant.”

There was a very cautious man

Who never laughed or played.

He never risked, he never tried.

And when he passed away,

His insurance was denied.

For since he never really lived,

They claim he never died!

Today’s parable is an invitation --- no more than an invitation, a commandment: to give what is uniquely our own for the greater good.

Once, I read these words. They made such an impression that I have long carried them with me: “ To the world you may just be one person. But, to one person, you may just be the whole world!” AMEN.

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

August 31, 2008

17 Pentecost

Keep the Cross

A story from mountain folklore goes like this. One summer day, an old man was fishing in a pond. Suddenly a young boy appeared, jumped into the water, and then began thrashing around in a panic.” Help me!” cried the lad, but the old man continued to focus on his fishing line undisturbed. The child cried even louder, “Help me! Help me!” Finally, the old man looked up and said, “Boy, stop your thrashing and put your feet down.” The boy did just that and discovered that the water was only a couple of feet deep. He quickly touched the bottom, lost his fear, and easily walked to the shore.

Members of Alcoholics Anonymous can identify with this story. A core belief of this organization holds that --- for many alcoholics --- only when they hit the bottom of life can the road to recovery begin. Only when the situation becomes so dire that the person lets go of alibis, excuses, self-deceptions can the healing of dysfunction start.

The truth is, we don’t have to be the victims of addiction to know this truth. Anyone who has ever been beaten up by life and found solace in their faith knows firsthand that when we are backed into a corner, that is when the promise of the Gospel begins to become real.

A social worker paid a visit to the home of a couple who were the foster parents of several children. She marveled as the mother cleaned up the kitchen , began another huge load of laundry and said cheerfully, “ These children make my life worth living…They give my life meaning…[Don’t you think that] the best way to find yourself is to lose yourself in somebody whose aches and pains are greater than yours[?]”

That is precisely what Jesus meant when he shocked his disciples with these words: “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross and follow me. For those who want to save their life will lose it, and those who lose their life for my sake will find it.”

In the eyes of the world, such an idea is anathema. What could more foolish and self-defeating than to embrace this cruel instrument of suffering as a logo for life! That is the world’s response. From the peculiar viewpoint of the Gospel, though, the Cross is exactly where true life and real peace are to be found. Again and again, Jesus taught and demonstrated that it is in giving, in self-offering, in service that we find God and meaning in life.

As I assembled today’s message, a story I heard some time ago flashed into my mind. A parish church wanted to attract new members. [That is hardly an unusual goal.] But, this congregation approached it in a rather unusual way. They hired an advertising agency to help them. Over the next few months, the agency did their research thoroughly, and eventually presented the vestry with several suggestions. They included a new paint job for the exterior of the buildings, more frequent and interesting media announcements, greater accessibility to the church campus…all of them quite valid. BUT, the one recommendation that brought everyone up short was the suggestion to eliminate all images of the Cross. The rationale? Simple, said the account executive, because the Cross might send a very negative message to prospective members!

In my opinion, that was not one of the agency’s shining moments! We cannot – ever! ---- get rid of the Cross --- either in our buildings or in our theology. The Cross is our identifying mark. The Cross is a powerful reminder of God’s radical love for Creation. The Cross is also a constant reminder of how God wants us to live --- both as individuals and as communities of faith.

By all means, paint the buildings, tend the landscape, hang the welcome signs. But, please! never get rid of the Cross! AMEN.

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

August 24, 2008

16 Pentecost

The Power of Now

A folktale is told of a man who died and went to the place of souls. There, he was shown a banquet hall where tables were loaded with rich food. He was certain that he was in heaven. Then, the dinner bell rang and the residents rushed into the room. But, they all had long spoons tied to their hands so that they were unable to feed themselves. Still, they frantically tried until attendants came and drove them away.

Then, the man knew that he was in hell and begged to be shown heaven.

He was whisked to another place where he witnessed a similar scene: banquet hall, food, the inhabitants with spoons fixed to their hands. But, here the mood was altogether different. Here there was laughter and enjoyment --- because here the people fed one another.

Haven’t you noticed how compassion and outreach so often go hand in glove with food? Lines of afflicted people in third world countries are fed daily by relief organizations. Churches and social agencies open their doors as soup kitchens. Neighbors bring rounds of meal to other neighbors in crisis.

Food seems to be a basic manifestation of outreach. It not only nurtures the body, it becomes a tangible expression of concern for the needy other in our midst.

Sometimes, food can even reveal the Divine presence. Matthew’s Gospel is intent on showing that the Kingdom of God had arrived in this person Jesus of Nazareth. So, he highlighted the miracles of Jesus to show God actively present and at work. The Feeding of the Multitude is a prominent example.

Matthew places this extraordinary event immediately after Jesus heard about the death of his kinsman, John the Baptist. Laden with intense feelings of grief, he withdrew to a place of solitude, but the crowds pursued him. In spite of his own feelings, we are told that Jesus had compassion on this enormous crowd; he taught and healed until late in the day. Then, as evening drew near, the disciples --- understandably --- wanted to send the crowds home so they could find food. Under the circumstances, this was a sensible response. Yet, Jesus had other ideas. “You feed them,” he told the disciples. Predictably the protested, but then did their best to provide for this improbable request.

Their search was disappointing; it yielded just five loaves of bread and two fish. In the hands of a chef, a mere pittance. In the hands of Jesus, a miracle! “Bring them here to me,” Jesus said to his followers --- and the rest, as they say, is history. That enormous and hungry crowd was fed --- with leftovers to spare!

Notice what Jesus did and did not do. He did not disperse the crowd, but neither did he wait for an abundant response. He DID work with what he had. He did use the resources that were at hand. He did respond to an urgent need. And, his example has vast implications.

How many times have we been frustrated by inadequate resources? How many times have we abandoned projects because of lack of time, lack of money, lack of provisions? Here’s a story that has value way beyond itself. It seems to say, start where you are, work with what you have, dreamed big with God --- then, watch what happens.

An article in a health magazine makes the point all over again. Several years ago, a dangerously overweight fifty year old woman finally decided to do something about her health. She began counseling, found a support group and made a personal commitment to walk six days a week. In her own words, she describes what happened. “My first time out on the track, my knee and ankle joints screamed with every step. Stuffed into sweat clothes two sizes too small, I fought back tears the entire time. I only made it once around the track, but I came back the next day and did it again. After a month, I was up to thirty minutes a day. When spring arrived, I started walking around a nearby lake. I also treated myself to a new pair or sweats. Eighteen months later [I reached my goal]; I was walking an hour a day, six days a week.”

She could have thrown in the towel. But, she didn’t. She accepted herself just where she was. She worked with the body and the goal that she had. She persisted ---- and she achieved.

Each one of us harbors dreams --- dreams for ourselves, dreams for others. Stories like this and the episode in today’s Gospel beckon us to start here, start now, and start with what we have at hand. As co-creators with our God, who knows where our efforts will lead? One wise person once remarked, “Shoot for the moon. Even if you miss, you will still land among the stars.”

Amen.

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

July 27, 2008

Pentecost 11

Seeds

Last Monday, I opened my copy of the New York Times, perused the headlines, and then skimmed the news summary. One article demanded immediate attention. I quickly turned to the international section, and there it was: a full page spread with banner headlines and four-color photographs --- “…Anglican Bishops Battle Over Gay Priests…”

The article described in depth the tortuous debate that has raged within our Communion for more than a decade. The reporter pulled no punches. While the opposing arguments were reasonably presented, unfortunately, it was the angry spirit of divisiveness that received the most attention.

Whatever our individual feelings may be, and wherever the debate may ultimately lead, there can be no denying that this painful controversy accentuates the negative in public perception. That said, it must also be added that we are hardly the only denomination caught in contention. Televangelists have been defrocked and jailed for corruption; Roman Catholic priests have faced the same fate for sexual misconduct; polygamist communities have been raided and put on public trial. Sadly, this string of humiliating news continues unabated.

And, what is the result? Among other things, the good that IS done in the name of the Christian Faith is easily overlooked. The morale of those working hard to live the Christian life is compromised. And, not least of all, the unchurched and indifferent are further alienated. You can almost hear their collective response, “… and you want us to become part of THAT?!”

Yes, the Church --- including our Church --- is called to such a great mission, yet often seems so terribly frail. In fact, sometimes it is tempting for even the sturdiest people to become discouraged. YET, maybe --- just maybe --- God views our communities of faith through a more gracious lens. Today’s parables give us reason to hope so.

In the Gospel reading, Jesus used a series of images to describe God’s Kingdom: dough, fish, treasure, pearls … and then, the most familiar, the mustard seed. “ … THE KINGDOM OF HEAVEN IS LIKE A GRAIN OF MUSTARD SEED WHICH A MAN TOOK AND SOWED IN HIS FIELD; IT IS THE SMALLEST OF ALL SEEDS, BUT IT HAS GROWN IT IS THE GREATEST OF SHRUBS AND BECOMES A TREE, SO THAT THE BIRDS OF THE AIR COME AND MAKE NESTS IN ITS BRANCHES.”

For those of us who occasionally despair over the state of the institutional Church --- and clergy are not immune to this feeling --- Jesus tells this story. If the Kingdom of God is like that mustard seed, then there is good reason to believe that the Church --- with all of its dents and imperfections --- is still capable of miracles. That, after all, is the message of the Bible from beginning to end: in the hands of God, watch out! …we can expect the unexpected! In other words, through the lens of God, it is NOT the about the biggest, the loudest, the most conspicuous. It’s about the smallest, the frailest, the least significant. Through these --- ESPECIALLY through these --- God often works to do great things!

Lord knows, our own parish has experienced a few dents and bruises of its own. Some of these emotional abrasions are still healing. From time to time, energy has been drained, focus has been interrupted, morale has been chipped ---- and then, out of the blue, Jesus hurls this curve ball loaded with good news: bruised, scratched though we may be, God has done, is doing, will do some wonderful things through us and for us. Let me put it this way.

An elderly woman, well into her nineties and physically frail still wanted to contribute to her church and her community. So, twice a week she baked batches and batches of oatmeal cookies and took them to a nearby youth prison. One day, her clergyman was visiting with the jail superintendant and mentioned his parishioner. “What a charming gesture,” he remarked. “Isn’t it nice that an older person like that can still do something useful?” Charming? Nice? Replied the superintendant. “ Father, let me tell you what you call “a charming gesture” really means to this place. These cookies have transformed this prison. Some of these young men have never --- never!--- received a gift from anyone. Every week, they wait for these cookies like kids on Christmas morning instead of convicted criminals. These cookies have changed lives!”

As communities of faith, flawed we are, frail we may be, irrelevant we may seem to some. Yet, if seeds can become trees, if a lump of dough can feed whole families, if cookies can change lives then there is hope --- there is always hope --- that the Church can still be a powerful witness to the Reign of Christ.

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

July 20, 2008

10 Pentecost

Pick Up the Pieces

Life can be messy. Life can be very messy. Cars crash. Relationships crumble. Disease strikes…and often the victims of these events are good and decent people who deserve so much better from life.

Years ago, Rabbi Harold Kushner wrote a book about this condition that still evokes comment. He called his personal document “When Bad Things Happen to Good People.” It never answered the problem of evil definitively. Nothing can. But, it raised the question which the human race has been asking ever since … well, ever since people started asking questions about this mystery called Life.

It’s almost a cliché, but I will use it anyway. The news media are a primary example of this theme. Even a random glance at the headlines of our daily newspapers reveals how treacherous life can be for some people: addiction, warfare… eviction, childhood poverty… and that barely scratches the surface. The point is that all this suffering underscores the dismal fact that too many bad things seem to happen to too many good people. FOR PEOPLE OF FAITH ESPECIALLY, that, in turn, begs the “$64,000 Question” WHY? Why doesn’t a good God fix the world? Why does evil seem to thrive so easily alongside good?

We are wading into deep waters here, my friends, and the name of this theological ocean is called The Problem of Evil.

These are ultimate questions for believers, and today’s deceptively simple parable brings them once again to the surface. No, the story that Jesus told doesn’t explicitly answer the problem once and for all. Rather, it gives us the assurance that, at the least, we have a God who is with us both in the questions AND even in the suffering.

The Parable of the Wheat and the Tares states what all of us know: the bad and the good frequently co-mingle. For reasons best known to our Creator, God does NOT aggressively root out and judge. Instead, God seems to wait. As one writer put it, “God takes God’s time.” As a card-carrying impulsive person, I can flatly state that I get terribly impatient with God’s patience. Most people do. We want a reckoning with evil …Now! Yet, when all is said and done, both the judgment and the timing are in the hands of the Holy One who made us.

Sometimes, a story brings more insight than a hundred essays. Let me offer this one. A young boy ---around six--- began kindergarten. As the Christmas Season drew near, the teacher helped any student who wished to make something special for their parents. This lad – we will call him Simon – told the teacher that he wanted to make container so that his Dad had a place to put his all his change at night. Over the next few weeks, he worked hard to make this gift: he shaped the clay, with his teacher’s help he baked it in a kiln, and then painted it blue – his father’s favorite color. On the day before school was dismissed for the holidays, the parents attended a special performance given by their children. When the performance was over, Simon rushed back to his classroom to get the gift he had made for his father. Then, he dashed back to the auditorium bubbling with enthusiasm, but in his haste, he tripped and fell. The precious gift flew out of his hands and crashed on the floor – with the terrible sounding of breaking. When Simon realized what had just happened, he began to cry as if his heart had broken.

His father saw what happened, but since he was a descendent of a long line of strong males who were uncomfortable with public displays of emotion, he tried to stop his boy by saying, in a brusque manner, “ Don’t worry son, it doesn’t really matter. It doesn’t really make any difference. I know you tried.” Simon’s mother, however, quickly intervened. Being more in tune with matters of the heart, she said, “ Yes, it does matter. It does make a difference that something important has broken.” Then, she did two wonderful things: she picked up her boy and wept with him. Then, she took a handkerchief and when she had wiped his eyes, she said gently, “Come on, Simon, let’s pick up the pieces and let’s take them home. Let’s see what we can make with them.”

Yes, bad things sometimes happen to good people. Always have and always will. While we wait upon our God, maybe the best thing to do is to follow the example of Simon’s mother: weep the tears that are always appropriate when hearts and bodies are broken. Then, pick up the pieces and see what new and special thing we and God can make together.

Amen.

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

July 6, 2008

Pentecost 8

Contradiction or Truth?

Stephen Sondheim is a genius! For six decades he has written the music and lyrics to a stream of Broadway blockbusters. The venues have run the gamut of musicals: from farce --- A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum; to social commentary --- Company; to dark legend --- Sweeney Todd. A few his songs have even enjoyed commercial popularity as singles: Send In the Clowns, Anyone Can Whistle, Comedy Tonight! Often his lyrics capture the fascinating contradictions of life such as the song that begins with the line, “Go away, I love you…” and ends with “I can’t live without you….get out!”

Of course, contradictions are not limited to the creative mind. They abound in our day-to-day living. Think of the child who begs for help, but when you give it becomes enraged that he can’t do the job himself. Or, think of the partner who yearns for a night on the town, but falls asleep before it is over. Or, think of the career person who almost kills himself for success, only to find that the top of the corporate ladder leaves a lot to be desired.

The ministry of Jesus offers its own contradictions, too. Last week, he spoke about the rewards of hospitality. The week before that he was even in an ornery mood when he warned his followers that he had not come to bring peace, but a sword! And now today, we are presented with these perplexing images: a heavy cross and an easy yoke! One minute he is telling us that discipleship is no cakewalk. The next moment, he is telling us to come to him to find rest and an easy burden.So, which is it? Inquiring minds would like to know. Like so much in life, the answer is not “either/or.” It is “both/and.”

Perhaps, this background information will help us to make sense out of this apparent contradiction. Think about a yoke. Yokes are these big, bulky things that are used to bind two oxen together to pull a plow.

So, where one goes, the other goes, and they pull the plow together. Jesus used this familiar image to tell his followers that --- while discipleship can be burdensome --- he, Jesus, is our yoke-mate. Because of his presence in our lives, the burden of discipleship becomes much lighter.

There’s an old story about a young boy who was helping his father with yard work. His father asked the lad to clear rocks in one area of the yard. The boy set to work eagerly until he came upon a huge rock buried in the dirt. The child struggled and struggled to loosen it, but finally gave up. Discouraged he turned to his dad and said, “I can’t do it.” His dad asked, “Did you use all of your strength?” “Of course, I did, Dad,” he replied slightly miffed. His father smiled and said, “No, you didn’t, son. You didn’t ask me to help.” Then, the father joined his son in the task, and the two of them pulled that large boulder right out of the ground.

One of the greatest Biblical truths seems like a giant contradiction: Freedom and liberty come when we are yoked with Jesus! Heavy cross, easy yoke. Contradiction or truth?

Amen.

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

June 29, 2008

7 Pentecost

The Art of Hospitality

Remember the old custom? The preacher would ponderously enter the pulpit, solemnly pray and then announce, “Today’s sermon is based upon…” followed by book, chapter and verse. In sermon construction, that’s called the opening focus activity. This morning, I borrow a page from this tradition; today, my sermon is based upon Matthew 10:40-42. They include these words:

Jesus said: “…whoever gives even a cup of water…truly, I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.

The reason that I lay these words before you is because they almost reached off the page and demanded my attention. The subject is the art of hospitality, the art of welcoming --- an art that is practiced so well here at Trinity Church. Ushers. Greeters. Altar Society. Tour guides. Coffee Hour. Open Commnnion. It is people and gestures like these that build an environment of welcome --- an environment that is absolutely critical to the health of any faith community. When it is lacking, that community is seriously compromised. When it is intentional and vital, the community thrives.

Why is hospitality so essential? We have only to look to our own experience for the answer. Compare those congregations that you have visited when you felt marginal to those that made you feel welcome. The comparison is clear, isn’t it? Gestures of hospitality take many forms: a cup of coffee, a word of welcome, a smile, a handshake. But, they convey a message way out of proportion to their size. They say, “You are important.” They say, “You count as another child of God.” They say, “We are glad that you are part of our fellowship today.”

For Jesus, hospitality was more than a nice, polite option. It was a priority. Recall the opening verse in today’s Gospel passage: Whoever welcomes you welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes the One who sent me… When Christian people welcome, we actually do two things: we greet the individual and we also greet the presence of Christ in that unique person. However we parse it, the truth of the matter is this: When the ministry of hospitality is lukewarm or lacking, the soul of that parish withers. When the ministry of hospitality is a priority, that parish will attract like a magnet.

One day, a county agent had to pay a visit to a farm to talk to the farmer about a matter of county business. After a long drive, he finally came to the entrance of the farm. He parked his car and started to walk down a long dirt road that led to the house. As he walked, he came upon one intimidating sign after another: Keep Out --- This Means You! … Beware of the Dog! … Trespassers Will Be Shot! Still he continued, determined to complete his mission. Much to his amazement, when he finally arrived at the house, he was greeted by a smiling, congenial farmer! The farmer invited him inside, offered him coffee and a comfortable chair, and, together, they spent an hour in friendly and productive conversation. When the agent was ready to leave, the farmer shook his hand and said, “Come and see me again sometime, I don’t get many visitors up this way!”

Hospitality takes awareness. Hospitality takes intention. The gestures of welcome need not be large or lavish. But, taken altogether, they can make a big difference to both the receiver and the giver. Trinity Church keep on keeping on. You are on the right track!

AMEN.

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

June 22, 2008

Pentecost 6

Attitude

Decades ago, the late Archbishop of Canterbury, Michael Ramsey, wrote a small manual for clergy. It was the type of book that could only be published because of one man’s rich experience. He addressed many issues: the need for balance, the need for regular prayer time, the need for rest, the need for self-discipline. He also spoke about the reality of parish ministry. One piece of advice that I have carried with me through the years is this: disruptions to routine are to be expected. When they happen, we can react in one of two ways: with annoyance or welcome. Annoyance: because our own plans have been interrupted; welcome: because the disruption just might turn out to be an opportunity. Here is the case when attitude makes all the difference.

Let’s put ourselves in the picture.

We are driving to an appointment. On the way, we pass another motorist in distress. To stop might make us late; on the other hand, to stop could be of great help to the other driver.

We are working at our desk to meet an important deadline. The phone rings and caller ID reveals the name of someone who has serious need. We can let the answering service take a message. Or, we can take a few minutes to listen with compassion.

We feel inundated with chores. Guests are coming and the house and grounds need to put into some kind of order. The children also beg for attention. We can get irritated or we can spend a few minutes to respond to their most immediate needs.

We have options, and the choices that we make will all depend on time management AND ATTITUDE.

In today’s Gospel passage, Jesus speaks bluntly about our choices.

If we find the cost of discipleship too high, we can always walk away from commitment. On the other hand, if we are willing to pay the cost of discipleship, we will engage the great adventure of faith ---- AND we can be certain that life will be filled with challenges and disruption.

When Jesus said, “I have not come to bring peace, but a sword,” he was not calling for armed conflict. He was calling for his followers to accept the consequences of preaching and living his radical message of inclusion. Depend upon it, he said, that kind message and life style will challenge the established order and bring disagreement and conflict.

For me, passages like this can be very disturbing. Where, I wonder, is the Jesus of peace? Where is that extraordinary man of compassion and affirmation? Not here. Today, we have a hard-headed realist who tells his followers the good news and the bad news: follow me and you will know what real life is, BUT there will be consequences!

The Christian Faith is, indeed, a paradox. Just for example, in a recent survey, 78% of all professing Christians interviewed never read the Bible; 90% of Christian families never pray together at home; women, who were the mainstays of the original Jesus’ movement, still strive for equality in many parts of the Christian Church……and then, there is today’s message: Jesus disrupts our world. He disturbs our peace in order to bring us a new sort of peace; he intrudes into our settled and successful routines in order to bring us an even better way of living. Not just once, mind you, but again and again…

We see this phenomenon played out in the life of today’ institutional church, especially in the churches in the United States. One of the things which have surprised those who study church growth is the fact that those churches which experience the greatest growth are those very churches which ask the greatest commitment of time, talent, and treasure from their members. What seems to make the difference for some people is not necessarily convenience, but authoritative preaching and teaching coupled with challenges to the congregation. As one sociologist put it: “ …SOME PEOPLE ARE CATCHING ON THE FACT THAT SYMBOLIC RELIGION IS ABOUT AS NUTRITIOUS AS A …DIET SOFT DRINK…IT’S COLD, IT’S CARBONATED, IT’S SWEET…BUT THERE IS NOTHING THERE…”

Trinity Church is in a time of flux and transition. That’s clear to any member. This parish has weathered its share of “speed bumps” over the past few decades. Now, we yearn for the stability of new, permanent leadership to guide this community of faith. Paradoxically, though have you noticed what has been happening here?

While we wait for that new leadership, people are stepping up the plate when asked to serve. Members are taking on substantial leadership roles. The hard work of creativity is manifest here and now.

A lot has been asked of the faithful members of this parish. Much will be asked in the future ---- during this time of change and beyond. What is so important is the response. When we have said yes to commitment, there has been cost involved, to be sure, but there has also been significant accomplishment. Yes, disruption and toil go hand in glove with the Christian life, but so does solid achievement!

Blessings on the journey!

The Rev’d Dr. Linda Carol Strahan

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

May 18, 2008

Trinity Sunday

Breaking the Spell That Binds the Church
and Recapturing the Power of the Trinity

Take my lips and speak with them..
Take our minds and think with them.
take our hearts and
set them on fire with Your Presence within them:
the grace of Jesus Christi,
the love of God, and
the communion of the Holy Spirit
as in your Holy Triune Name we pray.
Amen.

Historically within the Anglican church tradition and the Lutheran this Sunday after Pentecost has been known as Trinity Sunday, and, until very recently (1976), the whole stretch of the Church Year until Advent rolls around was know as the Trinity Season and the Sundays were named as Sundays after Trinity! Now we call them Sundays after Pentecost, and every year on this Sunday the like of me, but in male form, would rise into a pulpit and expound upon the doctrine or teaching of the Trinity. And most of you have probably like me heard a limited range of explanations of how there are three persons in our concept of God but they are all really one. We have sung songs about the Three in One and One in Three, and they have almost always seemed extremely abstract and confusing. The most concrete I have ever heard—that the three persons were like states of water: ice, water, and steam.

Unfortunately, if you read the theological critiques of that analogy to water, it is a form of heresy that has been called ‘modalism’ and rejected in a particular council of the Church. Orthodox or ‘right doctrine’ would be that God is Jesus and the Holy Spirit, Jesus is God and the Holy Spirit, and The Holy Spirit is God and Jesus. If any one shows up they all show up: for the water analogy to work liquid H2O would have to be simultaneously steam and ice, and so with the others.

I would like to offer another explanation: what we have here in this formula of the three-fold nature of all three persons is an ancient incantation, an invocation of love and protection, and a radical shift from the radical monotheism known in the Hebrew scriptures..

Now we have been living in a period of human history that has been under the spell of scientific materialism: and the institutional Church has been disempowered by this enchantment. We have all of the tools and keys of entering NOW into an experience of the dimensions of life Jesus calls ‘the Kingdom of Heaven or Eternal Life, yet we are not allowed by the culture’s map of reality of the present to include in that map the Kingdom of God or Heaven or Eternal Life. And we are certainly not allowed to speak of MAGIC— of things that might move or change without our knowing how, of things that might remove or change other than physically.

When I was taking a class in the pastoral offices in seminary, I heard the priest who was teaching it condemn any understanding of the sacraments—of Communion or Baptism— as MAGICAL.

Well, if they are not magical, what are they? Any time you hear the formula of the Trinity you are hearing an invocation and an incantation: you are hearing the weaving of a spell of love and protection. At the time when I was in that class my head tilted like a perplexed puppy dog hearing nonsense.

This intense fear of MAGIC has infiltrated even the institutional Church , and it is so prevalent among Christian churches that many good, sincere Christians are horrified and surprised by the receptive audiences for J. K. Rowling’s books on Harry Potter. they are all about a young orphaned boy’s finding out who he really is and learning to be a wizard and learning to distinguish good wizards from evil wizards. Why are these books so important to so many people, young and old, including our Bishop?

They are important because they break the spell of scientific materialism and permit the recovery of lost awareness and lost arts and lost powers and lost connections and identity.

Another example of the grip of this spell of scientific materialism upon the Church is what happened to that ancient exquisite phrase that we all grew up with:
“ . . . .as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end, Amen.”
It was deleted from the last revision of the Book of Common Prayer. Why? Because it implied an endless period of time within Time, and that was wrong thinking in the map of scientific materialism. YES, it is referring to a dimension of reality within time that is durative— that is all time— it is referring to the Kingdom of Heaven or the Kingdom of God— it is referring to Eternal Life— not some time bye and bye but NOW, within time but not of it.

Now why is the Trinity formula of God so important?

There are probably many reasons, of course, and one reason, the main reason, I think, is because it summarizes the totality of Jesus’ and the Church’s breakthrough understanding of the reality of God and the world: and the presence of an Otherworld or Eternal Life in Thisworld.

The legacy of the Hebrew scriptures was that of a radical monotheism and the conception of God as transcendent— of God as separate from the Creation:
it forbade the equation of God with anything in the created world. That cultured waged a relentless war on any culture that believed God was in Nature or had multiple forms. The Hebrew culture pursued a holocaust against these other cultures: they slaughtered and burned everything, even the animals: they took no prisoners; they took no converts. The archaeological evidence supports the scriptural report of how the Hebrew peoples moved into “the Promised Land.”

The teachings of Jesus and the formula of the Trinity both embraced and broke with that religious tradition:
Jesus taught that the transcendent Creator God was in himself and in bread and wine and in his followers and in the whole of Creation and that the Kingdom of God, the Kingdom of Heaven, Eternal Life, the Otherworld, is here NOW and in all times and in all places. Jesus fused radical monotheism with the earth-based, creation-based religions that found God in the world, and he opened the gates to the Eternal, to God, to the Otherworld in Thisworld NOW.

Trinity, the name of this parish, is an invocation and a prayer calling into being and into the experience of people, into their maps of reality, of this Otherworld within Thisworld:
‘ . . . . the Kingdom come, on earth as in Heaven,”

—as we pray at the climax of every service in the Book of Common Prayer. The name of this parish is a proclamation of what is MOST REAL. The name of this parish is an old and new invocation of a DEEP HEALING of an abyss between people and the natural world, between people with one another, between people and God.

May the power of that Name prevail in this day,
“ as it was in the beginning,
is now, and ever more shall be,
world without end.
Amen..

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

May 11, 2008

Pentecost Sunday

You Give Me Fever

This past week, I took my car to my local dealership for servicing. Since my last appointment, the service center has relocated to a new building. Everything is new: new location; new décor, even a few new staff members. I asked the supervisor how he liked his new surroundings. “Well,” he replied, “a lot better than when we first moved here.” “Oh, what was the problem?” I inquired politely. “Me!” he answered honestly. “ I was the problem. I don’t like change!”

If I had to venture a guess, I would say that he was probably speaking for the majority of us. Given our choice, for the most part, we human beings prefer to stick with the status quo:

- A new home? But, that means the hassle of moving. No thanks! - A new job? But, that means new people, new routine, new environment. No thanks! - A new relationship? I’ve been burned before…thanks, but no thanks!

Why this frequent reluctance to change? Because even though our present situation may leave a lot to be desired, at least it’s known, predictable, even comfortably dull. Change, on the other hand, requires adjustment, and adjustment can often be uncomfortable.

The celebration of Pentecost is a celebration of power. It is, equally, an acknowledgement that power brings change. Here’s why.

Our first reading today is Luke’s account of the very first Pentecost. The disciples were in a period of profound transition. They were enormously relieved by the Resurrection experiences, and yet they were anything but focused for action. And then, the Holy Spirit swept through their lives. What happened? They acted strangely. They spoke in new languages. Their building rumbled dangerously. They experienced intense heat. Welcome to the first Pentecost!

Momentous as that experience must have been, it was just the beginning. Those who witnessed the Disciples’ behavior were so in awe that, we are told, thousands --- mind you, not scores, not hundreds, but thousands of people --- immediately wanted to join in this new power-driven faith. But, that presented a big problem. What would the Disciples do with all these people? Where would all of them gather for worship? How could they all be properly initiated into this faith in the Risen Jesus?

These dramatic events demanded change and adjustment. The Disciples knew that if the movement were to survive and grow, the status quo was no longer an option.

That’s what the power of God’s Spirit frequently does: It can delight, it can also disturb; it can bring peace, it can also confront; it can build up, it can also knock down. But, the intent --- the goal --- of God’s power is never to cripple or annihilate. The intent of God’s power is always to bring new life.

Perhaps, you have heard the story about the man who had a nasty headache for several days. Finally, he decided to seek his doctor’s help. When he arrived at the office, however, the nurse acted just like a marine drill sergeant. When he told her why he was there, she barked in a loud voice, “Go into the examination room, take off your clothes and put on the hospital gown. The doctor will be with you shortly.” The man objected, “But, I really don’t need to go through all that. I just have this chronic headache.” To which the nurse retorted, “Did you hear me? You go into that examination room and put on the gown!”

Reluctantly, the man complied. But, when he entered the exam room, he found another man already there dressed in a hospital johnny.

The man with the headache greeted him and then protested, “This is ridiculous. I don’t know why I have to go through all this rigmarole. I only have a headache.” The other man, smiled wanly and replied, ‘Buddy, you think you got problems? I just came here to read the electric meter!”

That nurse had power, didn’t she? The kind of power that we associate with intimidation and brute force. The power of God’s Spirit is altogether different. This power brings healing, integrity, compassion, commitment. God’s power brings the assurance of God’s active presence and love --- regardless of our circumstances. Good people, there is nothing in the world stronger than that!

Amen.

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

May 4, 2008

Sunday after Ascension Day

Majority Rules?

In a favorite Peanuts cartoon, Lucy enters the living room to find her younger brother, Linus, in control of the TV. Immediately, she demands that he change the channel. Indignant, Linus replies, “what makes you think that you can walk in here and take over?’ “ These five fingers,” answers Lucy with a sinister grin, “…Individually, they are nothing, but when I curl them like this into a single unit, they form a weapon that is terrible to behold!” Linus surrenders the remote to his sister and then, looking at his own fingers, he sighs, “Why can’t you guys get organized like that?!”

Some years ago, there was an off-Broadway production called, “I’m getting My Act Together and Taking it on the Road.” I never did see this show, but the title always intrigued me. It’s open to any number of interpretations, such as…

I am going to identify myself clearly before my family and peers….or, I am going to make an important decision once and for all…or, I am finally going to take charge of my life and move on…

Yet, at the heart of all these interpretations, there lies the basic yearning for inner harmony and peace, a deep desire for unity both within us and between ourselves and others.

In today’s Gospel passage, Jesus spoke to this very thing. In John’s version of the final days, on the night before his death, Jesus gathered his disciples in the upper room for the Last Supper. There, he prayed passionately for them in the great intercession that has come to be known as The High Priestly Prayer. The earthly ministry of Jesus was ending. Soon, that same ministry would be placed in the fragile hands of his followers. Aware of the immense task ahead of them, Jesus pleaded for their protection and unity. He prayed for unity so they could offer a common witness. He prayed for unity so that they would become a reflection of the bond between him and his Heavenly Father. He prayed for unity because he knew that disunity would surely undermine the mission he was handing them.

Ah, unity. That sweet, essential --- and often, elusive--- quality so basic to human functioning --- especially for communities of faith. To wit: after centuries, consider the continuing estrangement between the three great monotheistic faiths [Judaism, Christianity, Islam]; or, consider the bitter rifts within our own Anglican Communion; or, consider even the bruising disputes within local congregations that can so dissipate energy and focus.

The famous author, Isaac Asimov tells a story about a certain Rabbi Feldman who was having serious trouble with his congregation. It seems that, between them, they could not agree on just about anything. As a result, attendance and financial support were adversely affected. Finally, the president of the congregation confronted the rabbi.

“Rabbi," he demanded, “this situation simply cannot continue. There must be a conference to settle all these disputes once and for all.” The clergyman agreed.

At the appointed time, the rabbi, the president and ten elders meet around a large table in the conference room of the synagogue.

One by one, each issue was presented, and as the meeting dragged on, it became clear that the rabbi was the lonely voice in the wilderness.

With irritation and fatigue in his voice, the president snapped, “ Come, Rabbi, enough of this. Let’s vote on all these issues and allow the majority to rule.”

The gentleman passed out paper ballots. Each man made his mark; the ballots were collected and tallied. “There, Rabbi, you may examine them yourself,” declared a triumphant president. “It is eleven to one against you. We have the majority. Our policies prevail.”

Deeply offended, he rabbi rose to his feet and declared, “You think that just because of this vote that you have the final word?! Well, that is not so.” Raising his arms dramatically towards Heaven, he continued, “I call upon the Holy One of Israel to give a sign that I am right and you are wrong.”

No sooner were the words out of his mouth when there was a deafening clap of thunder and brilliant flash of lightning that struck the table rending in two. The room was filled with smoke. The elders were hurled to the floor. Surrounded by the ruble, the rabbi stood erect smiling triumphantly. Slowly the president lifted himself from the rubble. His hair was singed, his glasses hanging from one ear, his clothing is disarray. Sputtering, he muttered in defiance, “ All right, all right, the vote is now eleven to two ---- BUT, WE STILL HAVE THE MAJORITY!”

Unity is never achieved by the loudest voices. Unity is never achieved by the purse-strings. Unity is not even achieved by majority rule. Unity, real unity, IS found when people can live with differences, and can look beyond the differences and see in each other cherished children of God. We Christians have a simple name for that kind of bond: we call it agape --- love.

Amen.

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

March 16, 2008

Palm Sunday

Turning Points

Birth. Marriage, Death. We would all agree that these are major turning points in life. Then come all those other in-between events : graduations; the birth of children; moves; career changes. These also are significant turning points in a person’s journey through life.

Here’s yet another example of a turning point. Several decades ago, a memorial service was held in Washington D.C. for Hubert Humphrey who served as Lyndon Johnson’s vice-president. Hundreds of dignitaries gathered from around the world to pay their last respects to a friend and colleague. But, one person who came was shunned by virtually everyone. That person was Richard Nixon. He had returned to the nation’s capitol for the first time since his ignominious resignation.

Then, a special moment took place. Jimmy Carter --- who was president at the time --- saw Mr. Nixon standing alone in a corner of the reception room. Carter excused himself from a small group of visitors and approached the former president. Then, Jimmy Carter extended his hand and with his broad trademark smile said, “ Welcome back, Mr. President.” Next, to the continued astonishment of the guests, these two men embraced. Commenting on this notable exchange, one reporter wrote, “ If there was a turning point in Nixon’s long ordeal…it was that moment and that gesture of …compassion.”

Turning points…they mark endings and beginnings. They eliminate some options and open up others. They are, by anyone’s definition, decisive.

For Christians, Palm Sunday is a major turning point in the Gospel story. It brought the public ministry of Jesus to an end and began the relentless progress towards his final confrontation. It eliminated the chance to return to his previous pattern of ministry, and –because of the cascade of events that followed – it would lead to the ultimate event of our faith: death and resurrection.

In a word, Palm Sunday was decisive!

It was decisive for Jesus. It was decisive for his disciples. It is decisive for us! In one of our major cities, a clergyman carries out an inner city ministry in an especially distressed area. One day, he unburdened himself with a close friend. He told him about the nature of his daily work, about all the suffering he witnessed day in and day out, about how increasingly difficult was for him to face each new day. In all compassion, his friend asked him, “ Don’t you think it’s time to leave it all for a new kind of ministry?” The other man replied, “ I would do just that…but a strange man on a cross won’t let me!”

We,too, may find ourselves feeling the same temptation. Suffering abounds. That’s hardly news! It’s tempting to withdraw from all that constant hurt and pain. Yet, this strange man on a cross keeps calling us to meet him on the road and continue the journey…

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

February 17, 2008

Lent 2

Other Worlds to Sing In

A clergyman reports this brief conversation with a parishioner. It took place a just before the second service was to begin.

Beaming broadly, the parishioner approached the rector and said, “I’ve been born again!” “You’ve been what?” blinked the rector. “I’ve been born again. Last week, I visited my brother-in-law’s church and – I don’t quite know how it happened, but something did – and I came away with this incredible sense of peace. So, I guess you could say that I’ve been born again.” “ You can’t be,” insisted the clergyman. “You’re an Episcopalian. You’re the junior warden. People like us aren’t “born again!” Then, the clergyman caught himself: he had been privy to another person’s intimate spiritual experience --- an experience that he could neither understand nor control. So, instinctively he tried to control the experience.

Last week, I found myself in a similar place. A colleague of mine [from another denomination] told me that, after a long struggle, he had fundamentally changed his mind about a certain doctrine of faith. I reacted to this news with surprise and more-than-mild disappointment. Once, we had been of one mind on the subject, but now we were on opposite sides. Immediately, I found myself arguing with him, even expressing a sense of personal betrayal. Then, I realized what I was doing: I was trying to control and define his hard-won belief and conviction. Seeing this, I backed off.

That’s what Nicodemus tried to do. He wanted Jesus to give him faith --- and he wanted it NOW. Not only did he want it now, he wanted it in simple answers. He wanted Jesus to tell him, do this and this, don’t do that, and you’ll find the Kingdom of God. But, Jesus knocked the theological wind out of him. The Spirit of God, he explained to Nicodemus, cannot be controlled, or charted, or calculated. Just the other way around. This is not about what you do, Nicodemus, this is about what the Spirit of God can do to --- and through --- you.

Here’s an intriguing question: What would it mean to US to understand that we, too, can be born of the Spirit? What if we were to stop telling God what we know and recognize that God is much, much bigger than our picture of God? What if we were to listen --- really listen--- for God’s Word and God’s Spirit to sweep over us without giving God advice and direction?

A story reframes these questions.

His name was Jack. When he was just a little boy, his family became the owners of one of the very first telephones in the neighborhood. Young Jack listened with fascination as his parents used the phone and he soon discovered that somewhere within this wonderful device lived a person. Her name was “Information please,”

…and there was nothing she didn’t know. She could supply anyone’s number, the correct time, even the weather.

Jack’s first personal experience with Information Please came one day when he was home alone and whacked his finger with a hammer. Quickly, he ran to the phone, unhooked the receiver and said, “Information please.” There was a click or two, and then a small clear voice spoke: “ Information.” Jack wailed, “ I hit my finger with a hammer and it hurts.” “ Are you bleeding?” “ No.” “Is anyone home?” “ No.” “Then, go get some ice from the ice box and hold it on your finger.” Jack did and it helped a lot.

After that, Jack called Information Please for everything. She helped him with his geography, his math, his spelling. More than homework, she told him what to feed his pet chipmunk, and when his pet canary died, she listened to his grief and told him, “Jack, always remember that there are other worlds to sing in.” Somehow, that made Jack feel better.

Years passed and Jack’s family moved away from the area. More years passed, and Jack left his family to go to college. The college happened to be near his old hometown. Once he had settled in, Jack acted on a tug of the heart, and dialed his hometown operator. Miraculously, he heard that same clear voice that he remembered so well. They reminisced about many of their past conversations, and before he hung up, Jack said, “You have no idea how much you meant to me when I was a little boy.” “I wonder,” replied Information, “if you know how much your calls meant to me. You see, I never had children and I looked forward to your calls so much.”

Just before they ended the conversation, Jack asked if he could call her again from time to time. “ Oh, please do,” came the answer, “ and just ask for Sally.” Several months later, Jack picked up the phone and dialed Sally, but this time, a different voice answered. Jack asked to speak to Sally. “ Are you a friend?” the operator asked. “ Yes, my name is Jack and I am a very old friend.” There was a pause, and then the voice continued, “ Well, I am sorry to tell you this, but Sally died about a month ago.” Before he could hang up, the operator said, “ Wait a minute. Did you say that your name is Jack?” “Yes.” “ Oh, Sally left a message just for you. She wrote it on a piece of paper just in case you should call again. Let me read it to you: it says, “ If Jack calls, tell him this ----‘ there are other worlds to sing in’ He’ll know what I mean.” Jack thanked her and hung up. Yes, he knew exactly what Sally meant.

There are other worlds to sing in. This is what the 3rd chapter of John is all about: there are other worlds to sing in --- in this life and beyond. When Jesus said to Nicodemus, you must be born again; you must be born of the Spirit, that’s what he meant. We don’t have to stay the way we are --- IF we allow the Spirit of God to take us to places that are NOT on our agenda. We can always make a new start, have a new life, become a new person, Or, as Sally might put it, There are other worlds to sing in.

AMEN.

The Rev’d Gary Goldacker

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

February 6, 2008

Ash Wednesday

Discipleship and Discipline

Once again we begin the glorious season of Lent. “Glorious” because when done properly, this season can reveal to us the glory and power of the Almighty God as God redeems and reforms his people. We are presented, through the disciplines of Lent, with an opportunity to transform the ordinariness of our lives into a life of loving service to the God who has created us.

The theme of Lent is repentance; a turning from the old to the new. That turning is a refocusing of our lives, with discipline, with growth in grace. It is the season of banishing illusions and restoring priorities, according to one source. The key to this refocusing, this restoration, is “discipline”. And it is discipline that makes us disciples!

A quick look at the dictionary tells us that “discipline” is “Training that is expected to produce a specific character or pattern of behavior, especially training that produces moral or mental improvement” to which we might add, “spiritual improvement”! And a disciple is defined as “One who subscribes to the teaching of a master and assists in spreading them” “An active adherent, as of a movement or philosophy” to which we might add “to a way of life”. Another writer describes discipline as “controlling the strutting peacock in every one of us.”

Some years ago (1978) Dr. Richard Foster explored discipline in his wonderful book “Celebration of Discipline”. It might do us well to reread, or read for the first time, this highly instructive book, especially during Lent. In it he discusses 3 types of disciplines: 1) Inward disciplines which include meditations, prayer, fasting and study, 2) Outward disciplines which include simplicity, solitude, submission and service, and 3) Corporate disciplines such as confession, worship, guidance, and celebrations. The traditional disciplines of Lent: prayer, fasting, almsgiving, and study, combined with worship, repentance, service to others, are the very substance of Christian life. St. Paul, in today’s epistle talks about the disciplines as purity, knowledge, patience, kindness, holiness of spirit, genuine love, truthful speech, and the power of God. (I Cor. 5:20ff)

The heart and key to all the disciplines is Prayer, that close, intimate relationship with God in which we not only pour out our hearts to God, but by which we open ourselves to hear God voice in guidance and discernment for our daily lives. Through our personal and our corporate prayer we not only enter into the life of God, but also into the life of the community of faith. That’s why every service or worship contains a section of prayer for all human needs. The Litany of Penitence that we will pray shortly always touches me deeply because in it I find not only a confession of my sins, but also my solidarity with you in your pain and suffering. And together we find in those intercessions our hope for salvation. Megan McKenna tells us that, “Lent is about encouraging and giving fresh heart to those around us, strengthening the bonds of community, reminding everyone that no one resists evil alone.”

Another poem for Lent by Betty Jo Phillips called “My Cross” puts it this way,

“We each have our own cross to bear,

and who am I to say that mine is heavier than yours?

Yours looks much lighter.

I’m sure I suffer more.

Now for a moment you lay yours down, and I can see clearly the torn flesh, where it has cut deeply into your being.

I did not know.

You always smiled and walked on bravely.

Perhaps it is not the weight of the burden at all, but the manner in which we bear it,

that is the true essence of our lives.

I will carry my cross with new strength now,

then turn my face to the sun and smile,

for in your face

I have seen the strength of God’s love, and it made me remember that he loves me too.”

This Lent, as we discipline ourselves to be the disciples Jesus calls us to be, may we find in each other, in our community of faith, the will and the patience to bear one another’s burdens as Christ has borne ours. May we find encouragement and fresh heart to confront evil wherever we find it or whenever it comes upon us. May we learn to control that strutting peacock with a new humility that recognizes the need we have for one another as we gloriously limp toward the Cross on which our Savior offered himself for our sins.

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

February 3, 2008

Last Sunday in Epiphany

Mountains, Magic, and Much More . . .

A brilliant magician was performing on an ocean liner. But, every time that he did a trick, the captain’s parrot would squawk, “It’s a trick. He’s a phony. That’s not magic.” Then, one evening during a terrific storm, the ship sank while the magician was performing. Ironically, the parrot and the magician found themselves sharing the same lifeboat. For several hours, the two just glared at each other. Finally, the parrot spoke: “OK. I give up. You win. What did you do with the ship?”

The parrot was stumped. He was sure that the disaster was the work of the magician, but he couldn’t explain it. This last trick was just too much to comprehend --- even for a clever parrot.

The disciple Peter found himself in much the same quandary. Standing on that mountaintop with James and John, he caught a breath-taking glimpse of Jesus as the Messiah. Like the parrot, he couldn’t explain or comprehend this experience: he was awed, he was frightened, so…he probably sputtered the first thing that came into his head: “It’s good that we are here, Teacher. Let’s build three monuments --- one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah.”

Life is filled with events that challenge our full comprehension. Sometimes, they are mountaintop moments: the birth of a child, a wedding, a graduation. Sometimes, they are valley moments: the death of a loved one, a divorce, the loss of a job.

Be they high or low, these moments evoke a whole range of emotions that stretch from unspeakable joy to unspeakable fear.

The presence of Jesus could evoke fear. In the gospel stories, how many times do we hear Jesus say to his disciples, “Don’t be afraid”? Don’t be afraid of the storm. Don’t be afraid of those who wish you harm. Don’t be afraid of the power of my works. This kind of New Testament fear is not due to the human condition. Rather, it comes when we sense that we are in the presence of the extraordinary, the other, the sacred. It comes when we sense that we have come finally face-to-face with God.

This kind of experience and the impact it makes upon us is well illustrated by this example. A father or mother teaches their child to have a healthy fear of the traffic in the street in front of their house.

“The street is a dangerous place,” warns the parent. “Don’t even think about crossing the street without my permission. You are never to cross the street without holding my hand.”

Then, the child grows older and eventually is allowed to cross the street on his own. Years later, when that child becomes an adult, he would say, “My parents were right. Many of the bad things in life that happen to us take place when we are trying to cross to the other side. A lot of pain in life could be avoided if we only followed this simple rule: don’t cross the street unless you are holding someone else’s hand.”

When we return to the privacy of our own thoughts and feelings, we may want to ask, “Where am I in distress? What do I fear? What am I struggling to understand?” The good news of the Christian Faith invites us to touch these dark places with one hand, AND put the other in the hand of a waiting God.

A lot of pain in life could be avoided if we only followed the simple rule: don’t cross the street unless you are holding someone else’s hand.

Amen.

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

January 27, 2008

Epiphany III

Call and Response

In my distant past --- which is to say, my college years --- I majored in history --- American history, to be specific. To be perfectly frank, many decades later, I admit that I have grown “rusty” in my knowledge of the subject. There remain, however, a few historical images that are still vivid. One of these has to do with the field-hands that worked the farms and plantations of the ante-bellum South. Frequently, I learned, they would communicate with one another by “call and response.” The “call” would often be thrown across a field in a sing-songy voice. The “response” might be a repetition of the caller, or an answer.

Why this unusual style of communication? Partly, to make the voice carry; partly, to entertain; partly, to avoid raising the suspicions of the overseers! [Music lovers might be interested to know that this practice became the roots of that early form of jazz called “the blues.”]

Even if the study of history holds little interest. Even if we don’t “dig” the sound of jazz, “call and response” is a fundamental pattern of human routine. It takes place between parents and children; it takes place between co-workers; it takes place between partners.

Voices may or may not be raised, but requests are often made, orders are often given, questions are often raised, and in each instance, some kind of response is expected.

Today’s Gospel event --- a pivotal one in the ministry of Jesus--- is all about this pattern of “call and response.” On the busy shores of the Sea of Galilee, Jesus called his first disciples, four fishermen. He called them to learn his message; he called them to continue his ministry; he called them to exchange their nets for evangelism and become instead “fishers of people.”

Now, notice their response: they left everything ---- their community, their trade, their families --- so that they could make haste to help bring others to God.

That ancient call to discipleship is just an s fresh and urgent as it was some 2,000 years ago. One by one, people are called to help ourselves and others discover the mystery of a personal, loving God at work in our lives. AND, LEST WE THINK THAT ONE LIFE --- OUR LIFE --- DOESN’T REALLY MAKE A DIFFERENCE, listen to this.

Over the years, the back door of an old house and had opened and closed with a bang thousands of times. One evening, an angry son stormed out of the house and slammed the door so hard that a hinge came loose. Hours later, when he had cooled down, he returned home only to find that door would not open.

“What’s the matter with this door?” he shouted. ‘Someone let me in!”

“Now you’ve done it!” said the mother. “You broke it.”

“The door isn’t broken, it’s just the hinge,” said the boy.

The mother pushed and tugged for a few moments, “Well, I can’t make it budge. You’ll just have to wait until your father comes home.”

“No, you push and I’ll pull, and together we’ll open it,” insisted the son. Eventually, after several minutes of struggle they managed to open the door. Once inside, the boy looked at his mother and said [with some wonder in his voice], “Boy, you wouldn’t think that one little hinge could make such a difference!”

We can be “hinges.” Using our talents and circumstances, we can be “hinges”: that open doors…

… to a deeper faith,

…to deeper sense of community,

…to a deeper commitment to service.

Call and response. That age-old pattern continues. Jesus calls. Interesting --- simply by showing up here, perhaps, we have already made our response.

Amen.

The Rev’d Gary Goldacker

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

January 20, 2008

Epiphany II

John 1:29-4 The Lamb of God

Last Sunday we read Matthew’s story of the baptism of Jesus, a story found in all three of the Synoptic Gospels. This week we read a similar story in John’s Gospel. While John doesn’t tell us the story of Jesus’ baptism, he does give us this story of the manifestation of Jesus to John’s disciples, several of whom become Jesus’ disciples. And again, it is a story about the manifestation of Jesus as God’s savior for the world. Here he is called the “Lamb of God” after the Passover Lamb of Sacrifice because Jesus will sacrifice himself for the salvation of all God’s people from their sin.

I always have a little trouble preaching this Gospel because we don’t live in a culture that makes animal sacrifices so we don’t have a personal frame of reference. The story doesn’t get much easier because when Andrew and the other disciples follow Jesus to where he is staying, after only a few hours with him, they declare him the Messiah and run off to tell Andrew’s brother Simon, who upon meeting Jesus, has his name changed to Peter. It all sounds like a fairy tale to those of us who spend a lifetime wondering whether or not there is a savior, let alone finding one!

Congregations in the search process go through a similar experience. As the conversation develops over the course of many months about the kind of person they seek as a rector, it becomes obvious that they are seeking a savior! Unfortunately, all too often what they end up is a sacrificial lamb! But I recently came across a wonderful story that clears the message for me and I hope it will for you too. It is a story from M. Scott Peck, the author of the 1978 best seller, The Road Less Traveled. If Trinity was like many congregations at that time maybe you even had a study group that read and discussed that book. Here is the story Scott tells to illustrate this gospel about the discovery of God’s Messiah.

“The story concerns a monastery that had fallen on hard times. Once it had been a great order; but, because of hard time over a couple of centuries, along with the rise of secularism in the nineteenth century, and modernism in the twentieth century, all its satellite monasteries had gone under. Only five old monks lived in the decaying mother monastery-the abbot and four others. Clearly, it was a dying order.

            In the deep woods surrounding the monastery there was a little hut that a rabbi from a nearby town occasionally used for a hermitage. Through their many years of prayer and contemplation, the old monks had grown a bit psychic, so they could always sense when the rabbi was in the hermitage. As he agonized over the imminent death of his order, it occurred to the abbot to visit the rabbi to ask if by some chance the rabbi could offer any advice that might save the monastery.

            The rabbi welcomed the abbot to his hut. But when the abbot explained the purpose of his visit, the rabbi could only commiserate with him. “I know how it is,” the rabbi said. “The spirit has gone out of the people. It is the same in my town. Almost no one comes to the synagogue anymore.” So the old monk and the rabbi wept together. Then they read parts of the Torah and quietly spoke of deep things. When it was time for the abbot to leave, they embraced each other. “It has been wonderful to meet you after all these years,” said the abbot, “but I have still failed in my purpose for coming here. Is there nothing you can tell me, no piece of advice you can give me that would help me save my dying order?”

            “No, I am sorry,” said the rabbi, “I have no advice to give. The only thing I can tell you is that the Messiah is one of you.” When the abbot returned to the monastery, his fellow monks gathered around him to ask, “Well, what did the rabbi say?” “He couldn’t help,” the abbot responded. “We just wept and read the Torah together. The only thing he did say; just as I was leaving-it was something cryptic-was that the Messiah is one of us. I don’t know what he meant.”

            In the days and weeks and months that followed, the old monks pondered this and wondered whether there was any possible significance to the rabbi’s words. The Messiah is one of us? If that is the case, which one? The abbot? Yes, if he meant anyone, he probably meant the Father Abbot. He has been our leader for more than a generation. On the other hand, he might have meant Brother Thomas. Certainly Brother Thomas is a holy man. Everyone knows that Thomas is a man of light.

            They wondered about Brother Elred-but then quickly dismissed the notion. Elred got crotchety at times, a thorn in people’s sides. Yet, in looking back on his time at the monastery, Elred was virtually always right. Maybe the rabbi did mean Brother Elred after all.

            Maybe Brother Philip, they thought for a moment, only to ditch that idea too. He was too passive, a real nobody. Yet, almost mysteriously, Philip had the capacity to be there when you need him. He seems to magically appear when you need someone. Maybe Philip was the Messiah.

            As they contemplated the matter, the monks, individually, thought about themselves, whether they were the Messiah-a preposterous notion they each dismissed immediately. But then something strange began to happen as they looked for the Messiah in their midst. The old monks began to treat each other with extraordinary respect on the off chance that one of them might be the Messiah.

            Because the forest in which the monastery was situated was beautiful, it so happened that people still occasionally came to visit the monastery to picnic on its tiny lawn, to wander along some of its paths, and occasionally to go into the worn-down chapel to pray and meditate. As they did so, without consciously recognizing it, they sensed this aura of extraordinary respect that now began to surround the five old monks and permeated the atmosphere of the place. There was something strangely attractive, even compelling, about it.

            Hardly knowing why, they began to come back to the monastery more frequently to picnic, to play, to pray. They began to bring their friends to show them this special place. And their friends brought their friends.

            Then it happened that some of the younger men who came to visit the monastery started to talk more and more with the old monks. After a while one asked if he could join them. Then another. And another. So within a few years the monastery had once again become a thriving order, and-thanks to the rabbi’s gift-a vibrant center of light and spirituality in the realm.”

Andrew, the disciple, became one because he listened and paid attention. He went out from his encounter with Jesus and invited others to “come and see” the wonderful gift he had found. And he kept it up all his life.

Martin Luther King, Jr. found in Jesus a marvelous savior and example for non-violent change. Through his preaching and his example, he brought a whole nation to understand, just a little bit, how sin could be overcome, even though he paid with his life to teach the lesson.

What could happen at Trinity Church in Newport, RI if we began to look for the Messiah in each other? The priest you call as rector will not be your messiah, no matter how anxious you get or how hard you try to make that person into one. And you face a great risk of making that person a sacrificial lamb. The Messiah has already come – behold the Lamb of God! Now seek that love in each other and try to find the messiah in your midst, in each other, in the community that you want so badly to be a part of. Growth and new life will come with the respect you show each other, the love you share with each other, and with all those who are called to this place in order to find the one who saves, Jesus, our Messiah.

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

January 6, 2008

Epiphany

Gifts

Have you ever given – or received- a gift that really made a difference? Former President Jimmy Carter did. In his own words, he tells of gift that he gave to his wife, Rosalyn, that had an immediate effect upon his marriage. He writes this: Perhaps, because of my naval training, punctuality has been almost an obsession. Rosalyn has always been adequately punctual, EXCEPT BY MY STANDARDS. A deviation of fine minutes or less in our departure time would cause a bitter exchange. One morning, I realized it was Rosalyn’s birthday and I hadn’t brought her a present. What could I do that would be special for her? I hurriedly wrote her a note: ‘Happy Birthday! As proof of my love, I will never make [another] unpleasant comment about tardiness.’ I signed it and delivered it in an envelope, with a kiss. [Years later], I still keep my promise [and] it has turned out to be one of the nicest birthday presents for Rosalyn – and for me.

The nature of gifts is fascinating:

They can be expensive or not.

They can come in the form of an object or gesture.

They can take months of preparation, or they can be created at a moment’s notice.

Besides that, gifts can be given for all sorts of reasons:

They can be an expression of love or gratitude.

They can inspire or manipulate.

Whatever their form, whatever their motive, gifts make statements!

The legendary gifts of the Wise Men made enormous statements. According to Matthew’s version of the Nativity, these sages from the East laid three different gifts at The Manger in Bethlehem. Each one of them made a significant statement about this special Birth.

Gold bespoke royalty --- not the kind of royalty of worldly power and wealth --- the royalty of God’s Messiah.

Then came frankincense: once lit, it produces an aromatic smoke used in worship. How appropriate for the One whom we worship alone and in community.

The third gift was a lotion called myrrh. Myrrh was used to anoint bodies for burial. Here was an ominous gift that foretold the sacrifice that Jesus would be asked to make.

Finally, the Magi brought the holy child the gift of themselves. These Gentiles [these non-Jews] from a foreign culture made this long, exhausting, dangerous journey to seek and acknowledge a special birth. Their effort and their presence foreshadowed nothing less than the universal nature of the Christian Gospel. This holy life was sent by a loving God as a gift ---- not just for the people of Israel --- but for the whole world.

The gifts of form and substance. The gifts of time and effort. The gift of presence --- these are the highly symbolic gifts of the Wise Men, gifts that make enormous statements.

Now, here’s the quirky thing about gifts. They make statements. They bear potential. Yet, gift-giving can also be risky! Despite our best intentions, we can never be completely sure how our gifts will be received, or if they will even be used. So, in the end, gift-giving is an act of faith. Like a meal, like a work of art, like a performance, we choose, we prepare, then we present. But, once the gift leaves our hands, the impact of the gift will be decided by the recipient.

Somewhere, someone, sometime penned a few thoughts about the nature of giving. It’s a piece entitled “Anyway “and it goes like this:

People are unreasonable, illogical, and self-centered. Love them anyway! If you do good,, people will accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives. Do good anyway! If you are successful, you may win false friends and true enemies. Succeed anyway! The good you do today mayl be forgotten tomorrow. Do good anyway! Honesty will make you vulnerable. Be honest anyway! The biggest people with the biggest ideas can be shot down by the smallest people with the smallest minds. Think big anyway! People favor underdogs, but often follow the top dogs. Fight for the underdogs anyway! What you spend years building may be destroyed overnight. Build anyway! People really need help, but may attack you if you help them. Help anyway! Give the world the best you have and you may get a kick in the teeth. Give the world your best anyway!

AMEN.

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

December 25, 2007

Christmas 2007

Jesus Puts a Face on God

It was a Friday morning clergy cloche. The coffee was poured, greetings exchanged, and then the usual free-wheeling conversation took off. The topics ricocheted from politics to family news to parish programs. Eventually, the talk turned to our seminaries --- and some of the memorable experiences we had there. In this conversation, I realized [after so many years] that some of my most important learning took place during the summer of my Clinical Pastoral Education.

It was in this mixture of psychology and theology that I learned what it means to really listen to another human being. Being present to another person means listening beyond the words. The spoken word is only a part of the communication. We need, equally, to focus on body language, moments of silence, and facial expressions --- if we really want to hear what the other is trying to express…

But, then you probably already knew that. Your own experience with partners, colleagues, and children instinctively taught you this fine art of listening. You probably also know that in those precious moments when deep listening does take place, it can make a difference both to the one who has been heard and to the listener, as well. This is communication at its best.

Strip away all the excess of the Season and we will discover that, at its core, Christmas is all about communication: God’s communication with the human race. One Christian writer has captured this idea with these simple, but inspired, words: “ Jesus is God simplified, God approachable, God understandable, God lovable…Jesus puts a face on God.”

Jesus puts a face on God. And, what does this “face” tell us about the nature of God? It’s a staggering message of immeasurable compassion, forgiveness, patience, inclusion. It’s a breath-taking statement about God’s complete identification with the human condition.

In Tom Brokaw’s book The Greatest Generation, a story is told about a woman named Mary Wilson. This modest looking woman was, in fact, a recipient of The Silver Star and bore the nickname “ The Angel of Anzio.” When the Allies got bogged down in the boot of Italy during the Second World War,, they attempted a daring breakout by launching an amphibious landing on Anzio Beach. Unfortunately, the Allies were pinned down at the landing site and came dangerously close to being driven back into the ocean. It looked as if another Dunkirk was in the making.

Mary Wilson was one of the fifty one nurses who went ashore with the troops at Anzio. Then, the situation became so bad that bullets zipped through the tent where she was assisting doctors in surgery. When the condition continued to deteriorate, arrangements were made to evacuate all the nurses. But, Mary Wilson refused to leave. Years later, she explained, “ How could I possibly leave them. I was a part of them.”

How could I possibly leave them? I was a part of them.

Emmanuel. Incarnation. Son of God. Messiah. That’s what these familiar words of the Christmas Season mean. In the face of Jesus, we find a God who is an intimate part of our lives --- both when the laughter rings and when the bullets fly. Wherever you find yourself on life’s journey this Christmastide, may you be blessed and supported by this human face of God.

Amen.

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

December 23, 2007

Advent IV

A Joseph Kind of Faith

Here is a modern take on the Nativity Story just begging to be told. Some years ago, a grade school class put on a Christmas play which included the story of Joseph and Mary’s arrival at the inn. There was one young boy who wanted very much to be cast as Joseph. However, the teacher sought fit to give that role to his biggest rival and cast him as the inn-keeper.

During the rehearsals, the disappointed student plotted in his mind what he might do during the performance to get even with his arch-rival playing the part of Joseph. Finally, the day of the performance arrived. Mary and Joseph walked slowly across the stage, knocked at the inn door. The inn-keeper opened the door and asked gruffly what they wanted. Joseph answered, “We would like to have a room --- any room --- just for the night.” The inn-keeper grinned wickedly, opened the door wider and said, “Great, come on in and I’ll give you the best room in the house!”

For a few panicked moments, Joseph was speechless, but thinking quickly, he looked inside the door, glancing to his right and his left. Then, taking Mary by the arm, he declared, “No wife of mine is going to stay in a dump like this. Come on, Mary, let’s go to the barn!” And once again, the story was back on course.

Today, it is Joseph’s turn to step ever so briefly into the spotlight. Joseph, silent, mysterious, fleeting Joseph --- yet, in his own way, he was a truly remarkable person. Forget John Wayne. Forget Clint Eastwood. This step-father of Jesus is the prototype of the strong, silent person. Be they male or female, there is something reassuring about people blessed with this presence. They are dependable, capable. They can be counted on the get the job done without fanfare. Their quiet, unassuming style bespeaks real leadership.

Such was this man Joseph. It is easy to overlook Joseph. He appears so briefly, says nothing quotable, then steps back in the murky shadows that surround the story of the Nativity. All we do know is that he was the village carpenter. Like most artisans, he was probably organized, meticulous, exact in his work --- but, then Wham! God intruded into his life and things began to get messy.

Mary was pregnant and not by him.

What’s more, she claimed her condition was an act of God.

Then came the emperor’s command: everyone back to his hometown to register for an imperial census. We can only imagine Joseph’s state of mind.

But, here’s the thing: Joseph heard the voice of God in a dream, and he obeyed! Orderly, exact, careful Joseph --- cast into a dicey situation not of his making --- stepped out in faith. He was willing to stumble along into an uncertain future trusting in God. In doing so, Joseph the town carpenter took a place of honor in this greatest story ever told.

In my preparation for today’s sermon, I discovered an intriguing turn of phrase; one writer referred to a “ Joseph kind of faith.” A “ Joseph kind of faith grows out of three beliefs: God loves me; God will provide resources for whatever I face; and, if I submit my will to God, if I am willing to step into an uncertain future trusting in God, then God can do wonderful things with my life.

At some point, Joseph’s story becomes our story. When WE find ourselves tossed into the midst of uncertainty ---- wrestling with unfulfilled dreams, unanswered questions, unresolved situations --- even if we can only grope our way through the situation trusting in God’s presence and care, then we, too, can have this “ Joseph kind of faith.”

Back in the middle of the last century, a renowned German theologian traveled by ship to the United States to deliver a series of lectures. On the crossing, he became aware of a large German shepherd on board whose master had placed him in the care of the crew while the master made the trip by air. That was one miserable dog. He found himself in an unfamiliar world with unfamiliar scents and people. The floor beneath him rocked and at the railing of the ship, his world came to an abrupt end. The poor creature moaned in abject misery.

On the return voyage, however, the theologian found a different dog on board. This one was an appealing mutt, and even though the circumstances were exactly the same, this dog was utterly content. The reason? Because his master was beside him! From time to time, he would glance at his human partner as if to say, “This is one craze world, but if you are in it with me, then I trust you to make things OK.”

That’s the kind of faith we often see in our beloved pets, or in a child, or in a dependent elderly person. That’s the kind of bedrock faith we need as Christian people. When all is said and done, that is quite simply a “Joseph kind of faith.”

AMEN.

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

November 25, 2007

Christ the King

Hope Is Here

It has often been said that preaching is an art not a science. In fact, some maintain that “preachers are born, not made.” Nevertheless, a course in homiletics --- that is, preaching --- is normally required of most seminarians. Towards the end of the term in one course on preaching, the instructor startled the class with the announcement that this year there would be a final exam! A final exam? gasped the students. Preaching courses never have final exams.

How can you test the art of preaching? What would be on the exam? How would we study for it? Still, the instructor prevailed and the day of the final arrived.

You can imagine the anxiety of the students as they took their places in the classroom. The professor arrived, passed out the blue books and then gave them their assignment. “ Gentlemen [ and in those days, it was just “gentlemen’] …Gentlemen, I want you to picture this: you are standing in the pulpit on your last Sunday in the ministry. You are about to deliver your final sermon. This is your last chance to sum up all that your have tried to preach and teach throughout your career. What would you say? Why would you say it? How would you design your sermon? You have three hours, and I look forward to reading your responses.”

Wow! There is one opportunity to sum up. Quite a daunting one, at that. Of course, there are many times we find ourselves offering summaries. We sum up figures. We sum up a meeting. Sometimes, we even try to sum up the meaning of a life. Whatever the focus happens to be, a summary attempts to distill the essence of what has been written, spoken, experienced up to a certain point.

That’s precisely what we are doing today. Today is the last Sunday on the Christian calendar. It’s the final Sunday in the Season following Pentecost. Some denominations, like ours, even have a name for it: We call today Christ the King Sunday. The job of the Scripture and the preacher is to “ sum up “ what the Bible and the liturgy have proclaimed throughout the past year which began on Advent Sunday 2006. If we take the Gospel readings and our worship seriously, we can only come to one conclusion: Jesus is Lord. Or to frame it another way: Jesus is God Incarnate. Jesus is Messiah. Jesus is our King.

But, what an unusual king! He has broken every stereotype of monarchy. Instead of force, he modeled humility and compassion. Instead of aloofness, he modeled radical inclusion. Instead of noblesse oblige, he modeled servanthood. ---- and, and, he invites us to do the very same. It’s here, right here, where the credibility of the Gospel [ and yes, the credibility of the preacher] are on the line.

Even a youngster can sense the disparity between the Christian ideal and the often rough reality of life. Compassion, inclusion, service may all sound fine in print or coming from the pulpit, but take a few steps beyond the front door of the church and the chances are good the Christian ideal will be severely challenged by something or someone. So often, so very often, our behavior is shaped by forces over which we feel that we have little or no control: economics, biology, bureaucracy. Our culture tells us that this is what really shapes and controls our lives. What’s more, there is really very little we can do about it --- other than make our peace with these powers-that-be.

If you have experienced this tension in those vulnerable moments of your own life, you are in very good company. But, when we find ourselves on the edge of despair, let’s all try to remember these encouraging words of one American preacher. His name is William Willimon. He is the former Dean of the Chapel at Duke University and Bishop in the Methodist Church. His words are so appropriate, so comforting that I quote him directly. How can we resist the enormous might of the powers of this world? How can we live as subjects of Christ the King? “ …I’ll tell you,” writes Dr. Willimon. “ Every time that you pray that prayer that our King has taught us, you are saying …that Jesus Christ is Lord and the ‘powers’ [of this world] are not… Every time you bow your head and say a blessing at a meal, you are…saying that the food…is a gift of God, not an achievement of your savvy economic mastery. Every time that you come forward and receive the blessed bread and wine, you are partaking…in the victory celebration for the defeat…of the powers [of this world]. “ May I simply add, every time we serve the need of another member of God’s creation, we are making a pledge of allegiance to the sovereignty of Jesus.

In the 2004 presidential campaign, one of the candidates used the theme, “ Hope is on the way.” May I suggest that hope has arrived. It’s here. It’s not an object nor a myth. It’s a person. Jesus. Lord. Messiah. Our King.

AMEN.

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

November 18, 2007

Pentecost 25

Let Go and Let God

It was one of the most startling remarks I have ever heard. At any time. Under any circumstance, The words were spoken by the wife of a former colleague of mine. Here she was, gaunt and pale, lying on a hospital bed just days away from death. She had spent the previous year in a mighty battle with cancer. Unfortunately, the disease had won the contest --- physically, but not emotionally. As our brief conversation drew to a close, she looked at me with eyes still burning with life and said softly, “This has been the best year of my life!”

My face must have betrayed my utter surprise because she continued, “When you’re in the constant company of death, you appreciate everything --- the small and the big --- so much more.” If there is such a thing as a “model death,” this woman is an example. She took death and turned it into a life filled with gratitude and joy.

Maybe our own battles have not been waged with something as stark as imminent death, but still I am sure that we can draw some parallels. A relationship ends. A job disappears. A diagnosis is made.

A cold raw fear begins to grip us. How will be cope? Where can we turn? Will we make it? Then, as we live through and with the pain, perhaps we have ever so slowly started to discern the creation of something new, something unexpected, something good.

Whatever the particulars of our situation, there is a common bond of experience here: invariably, for something to be born, something must die. For the creation of a new world, we have to let go of an old one. For the possibility of resurrection, there has to be loss, grief, and death. Something new, something different, something wonderful may be on its way, but that newness, that change is not without pain.

For all of its grim details, that is basically the underlying message of today’s Gospel. Jesus warned his disciples against idle speculation about the future, and encouraged them to see any presence of distress as signs of God’s activity and God’s creation of a new and better day. He warned them that they would face hostility, imprisonment, betrayal, even death for their fidelity to his message, but even in the midst of this intense persecution, they would have the opportunity to witness to their faith. It would get tough, it would get brutal before it was all over, but their suffering could plant the seeds of belief for generations yet to come.

Change/growth. Loss/creation. Bad news/ good news. The life and ministry of Jesus of Nazareth is marbled with this paradox. So is the Christian Faith. Let me put it this way. In the new home of one of them, two close friends were sharing drinks at the end of a mild fall day. They were sitting on the patio that overlooked a tranquil pond. The guest remarked on the beauty of the setting, and then asked, “How did you decide to move here?”

The other replied with a smile, “I didn’t. I was forced to move here. The highway department planned a major road that cut right through the farm that has been in my family for generations. When we got the news that we would have to leave our land, my wife and I were sick with grief. This was the only home that I had ever known. It felt as if everything important had been ripped away from us.

“But then, we moved here. We had to move somewhere, so we came here.” He paused, and then went on, “We love it here. Frankly, it was the best thing that ever happened to us. “Another reflective pause, then he spoke again, “At first, I thought the highway department had just about killed me. As it turns out, they gave me a whole new, wonderful life.”

Today’s Scripture is a standing invitation to each one of us to name the distress in our lives. Then, to face it with all the resources and prayer that we can muster. It might be God calling with the gift of new life.

Amen.

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

November 4, 2007

Pentecost 23

For All the Saints

Today is All Saints Sunday. The Sunday after All Saints Day. It’s that annual moment on the Church calendar when Christians pause to give thanks for all the saints of God --- both the famous and the obscure. Here’s one example of a saint. There was a ninety-year-old woman who had always been extremely generous with her considerable wealth. She helped foreign students come to this country. She sent flowers and food to people in distress. She gave frequent parties to introduce people to one another. She was always doing something thoughtful for others. One day, her pastor said to her, “You’re amazing --- you are so good to so many people.” “Oh no,” she protested, “It is God who has been so good to me. He has given me so much and I find the more I give away, the more wonderful I feel.”

That’s one example of a saint. Here’s another. A wise, anonymous person once wrote the following: “Why were the saints saints? Because they were cheerful when it was difficult to be cheerful, patient when it was hard to be patient; because they pushed on when they wanted to stand still, and they kept silent when they wanted to talk, and they were agreeable when they wanted to disagreeable. That was all. It was quite simple and it always will be.”

Whether it is Saint Peter or Mother Theresa or the couple next door, all saints have one thing very much in common: they are flawed human beings who, nevertheless, strive to model their lives after the example of Jesus of Nazareth … and when these folks fall flat on their face --- as they do from time to time ---they follow the advice of that old jazz standard, that is, “ they pick themselves up, dust themselves off, and start all over again.”

Now here’s a jolting though to entertain. Zacchaeus was a saint. Or, at least, acted in a saintly fashion. That’s right; I’m talking about filthy rich, corrupt, ostracized Zacchaeus whom we met in today’s Gospel story. Granted, he certainly didn’t start out that way. As a tax collector for the Roman occupation of Palestine, he was probably the most hated person in his town …until, the day that Jesus walked into his life. And, what a difference that day made! The little man’s avarice was (and this is the best word) transformed into lavish generosity.

How did this miracle take place? Not through coercion. Not through manipulation. Not through bribery. No, Zacchaeus was literally LOVED into change. Jesus met, accepted, and engaged him JUST WHERE HE WAS. The result was awesome. Out of one encounter with Jesus, the tax collector was changed from a taker into a giver. The journey towards sainthood --- the way into the Kingdom of God --- had started.

Here’s a brief story that I find so attractive. I like it because it is a reminder HOW sinners are most likely to be turned into saints.

In a certain tribe in South Africa, the members of that tribe have a unique way of dealing with people who act unjustly or irresponsibly. That individual is placed in the center of the village, alone and unfettered. All work ceases, and every man, woman and child in the village forms a large circle around the accused person. Then, each person speaks to this individual, one at a time, about ----all the good things that person has done. Good deeds, strengths, kindnesses are recited carefully and at length. In fact, the ceremony can last for several days. At the end, the tribal circle is broken and a joyous celebration takes place. The once-accused person is symbolically and literally welcomed --- or should I say, LOVED --- back into the community.

Not force. Not manipulation. Rather, acceptance, affirmation; that’s the key. People are loved into change. Isn’t that great news. It means that virtually anyone can walk the road to sainthood.

AMEN.

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

October 21, 2007

Pentecost 21

Holy Chutzpah!

The story that forms the bulk of today’s Gospel goes by several names: The Parable of the Unjust Judge; The Parable of the Faithful Widow; or, if you want to give it a good Yiddish spin, The Parable of the Nudge! Whatever we call it, the plot is the same: vulnerable widow meets indifferent judge; widow pesters judge for a favorable verdict --- and pesters and pesters until the man is so worn down, he grants her request.

Here’s a modern retelling of this ancient tale. In a certain city, there was this corrupt bureaucrat who couldn’t care less about the opinion of God or people. In that same city, there was also a welfare mom who kept coming back to his office saying, “Sir, make my landlord fix the furnace. Every month I struggle to pay my bills, but my kids are still freezing.” Initially, the bureaucrat wouldn’t give her the time of day, but she persisted --- until finally, through sheer attrition, she wore the man down. An order was sent to the landlord, the furnace was fixed AND the landlord even insulated her apartment!

A week later, however, the woman showed up at the man’s office again. She thanked him for his help, and then added, “Now, let me tell you about my plumbing!”

Pester. Prod. Persist. No matter how we hear this story, it’s certainly a celebration of perseverance. And should we want an immediate application of this principle, we have only to think about the work of our parish Profile Committee. Talk about perseverance. They have been presented with page upon page of individual reflections --- what we like, what we don’t like, what needs to continue, what needs to be fixed --- and, finally, what we want in our next rector. Then, they have been asked to distill all this data into a comprehensible document that will be a key in the search that follows. That enormous assignment takes a deep commitment wrapped in layers of perseverance.

…and that perseverance can be seen in the hours and hours this Committee spends in reading, responding, discussing. Without their persistence in this task, the search process would be denied a vital resource. Perseverance, it can make all the difference.

In my research for today’s homily, I came across a phrase that really caught my attention. One writer said that the widow in the story had –what he called – “ holy chutzpah.” In Hebrew, the word literally means “insolence” or “audacity.” That is most definitely a negative connotation. But, when “chutzpah” appears in the Yiddish, all of a sudden, it takes on a positive [even congratulatory] meaning. When we say that someone has “chutzpah,” we are saying that we admire that person for their gutsiness --- a gustsiness bordering on the heroic.

Now, apply that to prayer. If we approach God with a sense of “holy chutzpah,” that means we are willing to hang in there with our God; that we are so committed to our prayer task, that we will return and return and return to God until our souls find some answer, some closure. By saying this, I know that I am skating on thin ice. This idea of “holy chutzpah” almost begs the question; does God have to be nagged into answering prayer? I don’t believe that for a moment.

The God of the Christian Gospels is a God that not only understands us inside out, but a God who delights when we make even the smallest attempt to enter into a relationship with Him.

Perhaps, then, the real message of this parable is this: when the things we pray for mean as much as to us as the goal of the persistent widow, then power in prayer will occur. In other words, the asking, the seeking, the sheer chutzpah of persistence is not to change God, but to change us. One theologian couched it in this down-to-earth saying: “God wants the little ones, [the ones] who always lose in the market game, to have their stuff.” Holy chutzpah is a step in the right direction.

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

October 14, 2007

Pentecost 20

Living Thankfully

A young mother was in a flurry of activity. She was preparing for a dinner party that evening. Something of a perfectionist, she wanted everything to be just right or her guests. She cleaned the house from top to bottom, polished the silver, arranged the flowers, and even made name cards for each guest. Six o’clock arrived, and so did the guests. When they were eventually seated at the table, the young hostess turned her four-year-old daughter and asked her say The Grace. “I don’t know what to say,” replied the child. “Oh, just pray what Mommy would pray,” answered the mother. The child thought for a few moments, then solemnly bowed her head, closed eyes, folded her hands and said, “ O God, why did I invite all these people to dinner?!”

The subject is gratitude. Gratitude is that state of thankfulness which finds expression in a variety of ways. We can verbalize it --- thank you, merci, gracias, danke shoen. We can write it --- Dear Friends, your hospitality this weekend made me feel so special… We can express it with a gesture ---- a bouquet of flowers, a box of candy, a hug. Or, we can reciprocate it ---- with errands run, children minded, invitations to a meal.

Gratitude is a state of the heart as well as the mind. And, when we feel it deeply, we almost automatically give it some outward form of expression. No wonder Jesus exclaimed, “Were there not ten healed? Where are the other nine?”

Luke tells us that Jesus was on a journey. He was on his way to the final showdown in Jerusalem. But, he took an unusual route: a route through the despised area of the Samaritans which separated Judea from his native province of Galilee. As he approached a village on the border, here was where the miracles took place. Ten men with leprosy called to him for healing. They could not come near him because the fear of contagion was so great that lepers were banished from normal society. To be a leper was not only to suffer physical disfigurement, but to suffer psychological, social and spiritual pain as well. Jesus responded to their plea for help by telling them that they had already been healed. All they had to do was report to the local clergy to make it official.

In that one simple gesture, Jesus accomplished three amazing things. He healed what was considered an irreversible disease. In doing so, he broke a biblical boundary by reaching out to those deemed untouchable. Finally, this powerful act of compassion --- freedom from pain, freedom from isolation --- was also free of charge. Now, given the enormity of this act, you would think that some expression of thanks would be forthcoming. It wasn’t ---- except [and here’s where the story plunges to another breathtaking level] by a Samaritan, a member of a renegade Jewish community repugnant to any decent Jew of the time.

It was this alien, this foreigner who was the only one to express his personal gratitude to Jesus for his life – restoring gift of health.

If the story ended there, it would still be a dramatic, attention-grabbing story. But, there is even more good news here. Luke tells us that when the healed leper got up from his knees, he was not only cured, he was made whole. In other words, in giving thanks and praise, the man was doubly blessed. That’s one of the amazing, not-so-well-kept secrets of gratitude: when we live thankfully, we not only bless the giver, but WE are blessed as well.

The first billionaire in America was a man who knew how to set goals and achieve them. By the age of 23, he was a millionaire. By the age of 50, a billionaire. But, three years later, he became desperately ill. His body was racked with pain and he became completely bald. Here was a man who could buy anything he wanted, reduced to a diet of milk and crackers. Life no longer meant anything to him, and his physicians predicted death within the year.

One morning he awoke from a disturbing dream. He could barely recall the details, but the message of the dream was crystal clear: in spite of his phenomenal success, he could take nothing with him at the time of death. Pondering this realization, he quickly summoned his counselors and announced that he wanted to channel a vast amount of his assets into medical research. On that day, John D. Rockefeller established his renowned foundation that has touched so many lives.

Perhaps, the most amazing part of this story is a deeply personal one. The moment Rockefeller began to give back a portion of his wealth, the moment he understood that gratitude was essential for successful living; his body chemistry was changed so significantly, that he began to heal. Once doomed at the age of 53, he lived till the ripe old age of 98!

When we live thankfully, we not only bless the giver, WE are blessed as well. Can it get much better than that!?

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

September 23, 2007

Pentecost 17

Trust God, But Tie Up Your Camel

Irony. Paradox. Humor. Today’s Gospel is shot through with all of them. The Christian author, Anthony de Mello, tells a story that captures the essence of these words. A man left his brand new bicycle unattended at the marketplace while he went about his shopping. Juggling a hundred details in his mind, he only remembered the bicycle the following day. He dropped what he was doing and rushed back to the marketplace expecting to find it stolen. To his enormous relief, he discovered it exactly where he had left it the day before.

Overwhelmed with joy, he went immediately to the nearest house of worship to thank God for the safe recovery of his bike ---- only to find, when he left the building, that the bike was gone! As an old proverb has it, “Trust God, but tie up your camel,” or, in this case, Trust God, and lock your bike!

Recently, Robert Gates, the Secretary of Defense, illustrated this same truth on much more somber note. Speaking to a group of Washington professionals, he said that sometimes our government has to cooperate with other individuals and nations whose moral character is, shall we say, lacking. We have to do this, he observed, in order to achieve goals that will benefit our national interests. Call that pragmatism, call that compromise, call that politics, it’s another way of saying that, sometimes, even idealists can take a page from the worldly wise.

That’s more or less what Jesus was saying into today’s Parable of the Wicked Steward. Because this story can send such an unsettling message, let’s revisit the plot. A dishonest manager was caught red-handed squandering the money of his boss. To save his own neck, he compounds the offense by cutting shady deals with those who owe his boss significant sums. He does this precisely to ingratiate himself to the debtors. Once again, the boss catches him in the act --- BUT, rather than punish him for double duplicity, he commends him for his cleverness!

What’s going on here? Is Jesus advocating dishonesty?! Is Jesus holding up a scoundrel as an example for his followers? A superficial reading might suggest this, but a larger view of the Gospel’s portrait of Jesus reveals an altogether different intent. In the tradition of rabbinic storytellers, Jesus was using exaggeration, humor, and irony to make his point. He was trying to use the element of surprise to grab his listeners’ attention. Behind this façade of double-dealing, what Jesus was actually saying was this: his followers have a lot to learn from the secular world. The worldly are often past masters at creative thinking, determined focus, and absolute commitment to a goal.

Now, the worldly use that sense of total commitment for their own ends, for their own purposes. They are out for Number One. Christians, on the other hand, are challenged to commit to the Gospel-centered life. We are asked to step out in faith, to take risks, to scramble to act in love in the face of uncertainty --- and that, good people, means to become vulnerable. We may act out the best intentions. We may pour ourselves into a worthy project with creativity, determination and absolute commitment ---- but, we can never be certain of the final outcome. We can only undertake our Christian work step by step, trusting that the Spirit will lead and provide. Without that sense of adventure, without that sense of faithful risk-taking, like the steward in today’s parable, we will never know what surprising blessings await us at the end of our efforts.

One pastor’s experience frames this well. An affluent young man came to him one day to learn about the Christian Faith. Although he came from a long line of believers, he had fallen away from the Church, but now felt he wanted to explore it in depth. After several conversations, this young man decided that he should seek baptism.

So, he enthusiastically attended an inquirer’s course to prepare for Christian initiation. When the day of baptism arrived, he stood eagerly with his family and was baptized by the clergyman into the Christian community.

Several weeks later, he started to attend a new member’s class with the same energy and enthusiasm. One Sunday morning, the discussion turned to the topic of tithing. He learned that some Christians often give ten percent of their income to their church. That was a shocker! For him, ten percent was a very large sum, and if his local congregation expected that kind of commitment from him, then he was in the wrong place! He left the church that day and never returned.

Poor guy. He couldn’t take that risk, he couldn’t step out in faith, and he couldn’t make that commitment. Sadly, as a result, he never did find out how God was waiting to bless him!

Amen.

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

September 2, 2007

Pentecost 14

Humility, Hospitality, Hope

The Kingdom of God is like a mustard seed. The Kingdom of God is like a hidden treasure. The Kingdom of God is like a sumptuous banquet. When Jesus wanted to talk about God’s realm, he was seldom content merely to make a statement. Invariably, he would tell a story or make a gesture. Then, invite his listeners to appropriate the meaning of those words and actions for themselves. This Sunday --- or, for that matter, any Sunday --- I could do no better than the Master, himself. So, today, I offer you my bundle of words in the shape of three stories --- with the hope that, at least, a few of them will stick to our minds and hearts.

The first story deals with a common pattern of human behavior. A football coach contacted one of his former players to help recruit some new members for the team. The name of the former player was Mike, and several years out of college, Mike had become a professional athlete. The conversation between the two men went something like this.

“Mike, I hope you can help recruit a few new members of the team for the coming season.” “Sure, coach, what kind of player are you looking for?” “Well, let’s put it this way, Mike. There’s the kind of player who when you knock him down, he stays down. We don’t want him….Then, there’s the guy who when you knock him down the first time, he gets up, but when you knock down the second time, he stays down.” “ You don’t want him, right coach?”

“Right, Mike. And then there’s the player who when you knock him down, he gets up. Knock him down, he gets up. Knock him down again, he continues to get up ---- again and again.” “ That’s the kind of guy you’re looking for, right coach?” “ No, Mike, we don’t him either. I want you to find the guy who can knock down everyone. That’s the guy I want!”

The winner. The top dog. The one who is always first across the finish line. These are the people with whom we want to be seen; with whom we want to associate. These are the kind of people we want to be. We do not want to be associated with those whom society labels the losers, the also-rans, and the marginal. BUT, these are very folks whom the Gospel embraces…and that, dear listener, segues into the second story.

It was a warm summer morning in the mid-1950’s. A rather aristocratic, downtown church was gathering for worship. The crowd was not large and a decidedly cool atmosphere prevailed in the pews despite the outside temperature. In the short time since the historic Supreme Court decision of 1954, the parish had been debating the issue of inclusion --- and it appeared that the spirit of exclusion was about to defeat Christian conscience.

The ushers had just started to take the collection when heads swiveled toward a newcomer walking down the aisle. The young man was definitely not dressed according to this congregation’s code of attire. He was wearing faded khakis, a short-sleeve drab looking shirt and --- heaven forefend! --- tennis sneakers! Yet, even though he was dressed as a vagrant, his clothes and demeanor were spotless.

Within moments, he settled into a front row pew and smiled a greeting at the nervous and startled clergyman --- seemingly oblivious to the intense stares of those around him. At the end of the service, those same stares followed him as he walked to the rear of the church where he was greeted by a new young usher. The usher hesitantly shook his hand and mumbled a greeting: “glad you came, hope you’ll come back…sometime.” The searching eyes of the stranger smiled in reply, “Thank you… I shall.” Then, he walked through the large double doors, descended the stairs to the street --- and, just like that, disappeared.

Later that morning, the young usher sat in his car across the street from the church describing to his wife the strange events of that church service. Suddenly, the stranger appeared, walking down the sidewalk towards them. He greeted them with that same enigmatic smile without stopping. The couple turned, but once again, the man had swiftly disappeared. There seemed to be nowhere for that stranger to go or hide ---- but, in a flash, he was gone. It was as if he had disappeared into the earth --- or the sky.

It certainly is an unusual story, unbelievable to many, but true. You see, many years later, it was that same usher who told this story.

That’s the kind of experience that makes us go “ hmmmmm…” It’s also a story that underscores today’s caveat in the Letter to the Hebrews, “Do not neglect to show hospitality to strangers, for by doing that some have entertained angels…”

Placed side by side, these two stories deliver an unequivocal message: fight pride, strive for inclusion. That directive, in turn, begs the question, Why? Why is this Gospel conduct so important? Here’s one way to answer that query.

Imagine if you will, one of God’s angels returning from a hard day’s work. Now, imagine that angel returning to Heaven only to find the Lord Jesus preparing a feast, an offering of every blessing that God can give: joy, peace, grace. “Guess who’s coming to dinner?” asks Jesus with a broad smile. Without waiting for an answer, Jesus enthusiastically answers his own question. “I have invited sinners… anyone who has ever broken God’s laws. I have invited people who have betrayed others, people who have abused their bodies and minds, people who have been crippled by all kinds of painful memories, and even some people who have been indifferent to others’ pain.

“But, why Lord?” blinks the angel in disbelief. “Why would you invite people like that? “ “ Because,” answers Jesus, “I hope that once they have been fed, they might just be moved to feed someone else.” …They might just be moved to feed someone else.

For what do we hunger? How does Christian community feed our hunger? How might we, in turn, feed others?

AMEN.

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

August 12, 2007

Pentecost 11

Are You Ready?

Today’s Gospel reading concludes with this blunt warning:

Therefore, you must …be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an hour that you do not expect. There’s the good news and the --- not-so-good news. The not-so-good news is that we always accountable for our lives. Judgment of some sort can always be imminent. The good news is we swim in a sea filled with abundant daily opportunity.

The 19th Century theologian, Soren Kierkegaard, makes the point with this whimsical little story. The king of a long past domain was touring his realm. Village after village poured accolades on him. One day, the king and his entourage arrived at the market square of a small town. To the amazement of his neighbors, one young farmer stepped forward and approached the king’s carriage. “ Sire,” he pleaded, “ please grant me a special blessing.” To the even greater amazement of his neighbors, the king replied, “ Of course, my good man. Come and live with me. Share my table. Marry my daughter. Become my son-in-law.”

The young man was overwhelmed with surprise and delight --- and then, he began to think about the king’s offer: No more comfortable peasant clothes; no more familiar surroundings; no more Saturday nights at the local pub --- no, this new life would mean that he would dress formally, learn the manners of the court --- even take a bath once a week!

And so, the young man lowered his eyes and shook his head. “ No, sire, I cannot accept,” he said to the king. “ If you really want to do something for me, give a plot of land to farm and a home. But, to live in your palace, to share your table, to become your son-in-law would be too uncomfortable. It would require more than I think I can give.” And so, he declined the king’s very generous invitation.

The young man quickly learned a vital lesson in life: when opportunity appears it can offer enormous potential. The flip side is also true: opportunity always requires responsibility ---- and risk---and change. Jesus firmly believed that. He taught and lived that belief. With both words and gestures, Jesus repeatedly taught that…

…God calls each person to be part of God’s Kingdom;

…God calls each person to sit at His Table;

…God calls each person to become His sons and daughters… AND God calls each person to respond responsibly to that gracious invitation.

Barbara Brown Taylor is an Episcopal priest. She has enjoyed successful ministries in both parish and academic settings. However, she is best known as a celebrated preacher. Her comments on today’s Scripture demand serious attention.

I remember something that one of my professors told me once, about how the second coming of Christ was an idea cooked up by some church father with only two fingers. The truth, he said, is that Christ comes again, and again, and again --- that God has placed no limit on coming to the world…The only thing we are required to do is to notice, to watch, to keep our eyes peeled.

[Jesus said] “ Therefore, you must be ready, for the Son of man is coming at an hour you do not expect.” How do you deal with a piece of advice like that? Well, why not be ready all the time, not only for the end but for whatever the [present] moment brings? Every morning when you wake up, decide to live the life God has given you to live right now. Refuse to live yesterday over and over again. Resist the temptation to save your best for tomorrow. Do not put off living the kind of life you are meant to live. There is no time for that…

Go ahead and make the decision, write the letter, get the help you need, find someone to love, give yourself away. Why waster your time making preparations for an end time you cannot predict? Live prepared…so that wherever you are…you are ready for God, for whatever happens next, not afraid but wide awake, watching for the Lord who never tires of coming to the world.

Who knows [she concludes]? Ours may be the generation that finally sees him ride in on the clouds, OR we may meet him the way generations before us have --- one by one by one, as we close our eyes for the last time. Either way, our lives are in God’s hands. Either way, God leaves the living of them to us. [and so] To God be all honor and glory, now and forever.

What is left to say but …AMEN!?

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

July 29, 2007

Pentecost 9

Starfish

Jesus promised, “Ask and it will be given you; search, and you will find; knock, and the door will be opened for you…”

Yes, Jesus promised, and then he made that promise even more accessible by drawing a picture with words. Here’s what I mean, he said to his listeners. A man knocks at his neighbor’s door late at night. It seems he has run out of food for some unexpected guests. The groggy man is less than receptive to the person’s request --- but, despite his annoyance, he puts on his bathrobe, pads downstairs and raids the kitchen to fill his neighbor’s need. Apparently, generosity had nothing to do with it: he simply wanted his neighbor to stop nudging him and go home!

Once again, Jesus used story and wit to make an important point; in this case, persistence is the fuel of prayer. Even though we may not see immediate results, we are to persist…we are to keep on keeping on. Persist in our prayers. Persist in our works of compassion. Persist in praising God.

Christians are not asked to change the whole world. That’s God’s business. Our business is to do what we can, where we can, with whom we can. Our business is to make a difference wherever we find ourselves planted --- and trust that God will bless our efforts and our persistence.

Perhaps, a familiar story says it best.

It was a brilliant summer morning following a severe storm. A visitor to the area was leisurely strolling along the beach. He noticed quite a few shell collectors gathering up some of the ocean’s debris, piling them into baskets. But, then, in the distance, he noticed a solitary figure doing something different: he wasn’t gathering, rather he seemed to be throwing something back into the sea. Curious, the man walked closed to see what on earth this person was doing.

The figure walked slowly by the water’s edge. Every few moments, he would stop, stoop down, pick up an object and throw it into the surf. As the other man came closer, he could see what the thrower was doing: he was tossing beached starfish back into the water.

The visitor stood next to the man as he picked up another starfish. “It’s alive, isn’t it?” “Yes,” said the star thrower as he tossed the living thing back into the water. “If the current picks it up, it will survive”

“Do you ever collect any of these?” asked the visitor. “No,” replied the star thrower. “I only collect the living and return them to the sea.”

“I guess death is the only true collector,” remarked the visitor and continued on his way.

Later in the day, the visitor ran into the star thrower who was still at his task --- looking, stooping, throwing, saving. This time, the visitor joined in the effort, but after some minutes, he stopped and said, “The task is immense. I wonder if all your labor really makes a difference.”

The star thrower did not respond immediately. Instead, he picked up yet one more starfish and threw it into the waves. Then, he turned and with a large gentle smile replied, “It made a difference to that one!”

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

July 22, 2007

Pentecost 8

Martha and Mary - You Go, Girls!

Once upon a time, there lived a beautiful princess. Now, this princess had many offers of marriage, but she could never make up her mind. You see, she was a very romantic girl who wanted a man to love her more than anyone or anything else. Out of this desire, she devised a way to test the love of her suitors.

An announcement was sent throughout the kingdom that on a certain day, there would be a race on the palace grounds. The race was open to any to every man in the kingdom, regardless of his station in life. The chosen day arrived, and the palace grounds were crowded with would-be suitors. The contestants were told that the princess waited at the finish line, and whoever reached her first could ask for her hand in marriage.

Just before the race began, the king made an announcement. He told the racers that he had scattered some of his finest treasures along the course: there were necklaces, pendants, jewel-encrusted cups and swords. Each runner was welcome to stop and take as many as he could carry. Then, the race began…

…One by one, the runners turned aside to fill their pockets ---- blinded by the possibility of immediate wealth, they forgot about the waiting princess. All, that is, except one young man. He pressed on. For him, the objects so liberally strewn were simply trinkets compared to the hand of the princess. Finally, he crossed the finish line and greeted his bride. He was victorious because --- to borrow a phrase --- he kept his eyes on the prize!

The moral of this story can be summed up in three words: Beware of distractions! Distractions --- they come in so many guises: material possessions, power, money, personal agendas. But, they all have the same affect: they break focus and undermine achievement.

Consider the story of Al and Betty Johnson.

The Johnsons live on a farm some 200 miles northeast of Rapid City, South Dakota. Not many people live in that area --- the folks like to say that while it isn’t the end of the earth, you can still see it from there. So, Al and Betty keep a running list of things they need to do and buy whenever they are going to Rapid City.

A while back, Betty’s mother was flying to the area for a visit. Al made a list of all the things he needed to do on his way to the airport.

Later that evening, when he returned to the farm, he was so pleased to tell Betty that he had accomplished all his errands ---- new tires for the truck, new tools for his workshop, and all the items she had requested at the mall. Betty interrupted him, “ Al, where’s Mother?” Al’s face turned ashen and then bright red. In his determination to complete his list, he had forgotten to go to the airport.

Poor Al! It’s so easy to be so busy, so distracted that we forget the most important thing. Poor Al… and poor Martha! Her intentions were admirable. Her effort was great. She wanted to offer Jesus the best hospitality that she could. Unfortunately, the preparation of the meal became an end unto itself. She was so distracted by activity that she failed to see that her sister, Mary, was offering Jesus her own kind of hospitality: the gift of listening, the gift of attention, the gift of presence.

This often-told and often-misunderstood incident offers an elementary lesson about the Christian lifestyle: namely, that Christian living is characterized by BOTH SERVICE AND LISTENING. What’s more, each response is dependent upon the other. Doing without listening can become purposeless; listening without doing can make our professions of faith empty.

This fundamental insight seems to be germane to our current situation here at Trinity Church. The parish finds itself once again in the rigors of transition. Periods of transition can be a demanding experience. They can also be a time of opportunity. In the coming months, we will be asked to participate in a good deal of activity: identifying strengths, naming our needs, discerning patterns of relationships. THEN, we will be asked to LISTEN to this data. What does it tell us about ourselves? What does it tell us about our use of resources? What does it tell us about our future potential as a community of faith?

Christian life. Church life. Spiritual life. To work, they all need the same thing: a balance of doing and listening. Martha and Mary --- God bless them, we need them both!

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

June 17, 2007

Pentecost 3

Acceptance. Compassion. Forgiveness.

What’s a preacher to do? …when the sacred and the secular show up on the same day? To wit: today. Today marks the 3^rd Sunday in Pentecost, a day when the Christian community gathers to proclaim the power of compassion and forgiveness. Today is also Father’s Day, a day when American families celebrate the role of fatherhood.

Some preachers avoid the secular entirely; others disparage the secular and praise the sacred; still others look for the common denominator between the two. This morning, I invite you to join me in the third option. With one foot planted in the sacred and the other in the secular, let’s see what we can discover.

The Gospel of the Day retells the poignant story about the woman of questionable repute who crashed a dinner party and in an extravagant gesture anointed the feet of Jesus. Anyone else would be mortified at such behavior, but Jesus graciously accepted the woman’s expression of deep gratitude.

Turning to the literature of Father’s Day, we find this story of loving acceptance. YEARS AGO, a young boy watched his father walk into the living room. The child noticed that his younger brother, John, cowered slightly. The older boy sensed immediately that his younger brother had done something wrong. Then, he saw what it was; John had scribbled all over the first page of his dad’s new hymnal. Staring at their father fearfully, both youngster’s waited for their father’s reaction. The father picked up the book, looked at it carefully, then sat down without saying a word… what he did next was remarkable. Instead of punishing the child, father took the pen from his hand and wrote in the book himself alongside the scribbles. Years later, both boys discovered what their father wrote: “ This is John’s work, age 2, 1959. How many times have I thanked God …for the one who has now left his mark on my new hymnal…?”

As today’s Gospel continues to unfold, the listener comes to understand that Jesus is telling his host --- and us --- that there can be no love without forgiveness and that there can be no forgiveness without the presence of love. / The Christian author, John Aurelio, offers this secular parable. ON THE SIXTH DAY, God created Father Adam and Mother Eve. On the seventh day, they asked their Creator if He would give them something special to commemorate their birthday. So, God reached into a treasure chest and took out a sacred coin. On one side there was written the word, LOVE. On the eighth day, Adam and Eve sinned and were told to leave the Garden of Eden. As they left, they asked God for an assurance that – though they were exiled – God would not abandon them. “You have the coin,” God told them. “But, the coin says LOVE,” they answered, “and we have lost your love. How will we ever find it again?” “Turn the coin over,” said the Lord. They did and on the other side, they discovered another word – FORGIVENESS!

Finally, we come upon this surprising quality in today’s scripture. It’s a part of Jesus’ personality that’s implied rather than immediately obvious. You will remember in this incident, the dinner host was critical of Jesus because he had failed to rebuke the woman for her embarrassing display. Jesus could have responded in kind --- one nasty rebuke followed by another. But, he didn’t. Instead, he told his host a story, and if we listen with the ears of faith, we can see the smile of Jesus’ face and the laughter in his voice as he made his point. This, by the way, is no isolated incident. Humor was, in fact, a hallmark of our Lord’s ministry. Isn’t gentle humor one of the qualities necessary for any effective parenting?

ONCE UPON A TIME, THERE WAS A FAMILY WITH THREE YOUNG CHILDREN. These children were determined to have a puppy. Mom protested vigorously because she knew that she would end up taking care of the new family pet. True to form, however, the kids solemnly promised that they would care for the puppy. Eventually, Mom relented and the new puppy arrived. The children named him DANNY, and, at first, they were good to their word…but, sure enough, after the novelty wore off, guess who took care of Danny?

Finally, Mom decided to look for a good new home for Danny. When she found one in the neighborhood, she broke the news to the children. To her great surprise, their reaction was muted. One of them said matter-of-factly, “We’ll miss him.” “We all will,” replied Mother,” but he really is too much work for one person and since I am that person, I say he goes.” Another child feebly protested, “…but Mom, what if he didn’t eat so much and wasn’t so messy, could he stay then?” This time, Mom held her ground: “No, I’ve given a lot of thought to this and it’s time to take DANNY to his new home.”

The three children froze. Then, with one voice and tears in their eyes, they all cried, “DANNY?! We thought you said DADDY!”

Acceptance. Compassion. Forgiveness --- all stirred with a gentle sense of humor. Today’s common denominators. Perhaps, the sacred and the secular aren’t so far apart, after all!

AMEN.

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

June 3, 2007

Trinity Sunday

Filling the Void

It was September, the September of a distant yesteryear. Labor Day Weekend had brought the carefree months of summer to an abrupt halt, and now the minds and bodies of America’s children would once again be reclaimed by academia. In other words, school was open! But, for this speaker, it was no ordinary year that lay ahead. Oh no! This year marked entrance into…5th Grade! Another major milestone was in view. A single grade would now be divided into sections. These sections would be moved from the primary wing to the 3rd floor. Homework, tests and dress code would become regular parts of our weekly routine. And then, there was our teacher…

Miss Booth. Miss Booth had become something of a quiet legend in her own time. Small, pale, soft-spoken, she was known as a gently effective teacher. Parents, teachers --- even some of the older kids! --- all told us how lucky we were to be assigned to her classroom. And so, we entered that “sacred space” with awe and expectation.

Fifth Grade, however, did not unfold as anticipated. About a month into the school year, Miss Booth began to miss a day here and there. Substitutes would come and go. Then, one day, a new teacher appeared. Her name was Mrs. Robinson. She explained that Miss Booth needed to take some time off from teaching and that she would be our teacher in the meantime.

Well, Miss Booth never did return, and as the days stretched into weeks and the weeks into months, Mrs. Robinson proved to be a wonderful replacement. She was young, attractive with a warm sense of humor that won our loyalty. To be sure, at first, we were confused, apprehensive, but if memory serves me, Mrs. Robinson put her own special stamp on our school year. When all was said and done, the 5th Grade lived up to its vaunted reputation at P.S. 101!

I invite you to search your own lives for some version of this experience. Someone important in your own life was taken from you by illness or accident or by wartime or a move to a distant place. You, too, knew loss, apprehension, confusion caused by this void. Perhaps, though, time brought something --- or someone --- to fill that empty space. No, the absent one was not forgotten. Never. That pocket of emptiness was still part of the fabric of your soul. Yet, gradually, that new thing --- or person--- gave you the energy and desire to move on with your life.

I think the Holy Trinity is something like that. Jesus knew that his coming absence would leave a huge void in the lives of his companions. He also knew that if these ordinary, fallible human beings were to continue his ministry, they would desperately need something – or someone---to guide them, motivate them, and encourage them. So, Jesus sent another Presence into their lives. If you will, he sent a “third personality” of God, the Holy Spirit, to be that source of support and wisdom.

Interesting, you might think. Perhaps, even clarifying. But, does this doctrine really have any relevance to our lives…here, now, in this place? For those who care about this faith community, you bet it does!

Trinity Church has recently emerged from a bruising period of controversy --- a time that drained energy and diverted our attention from the work of the Gospel. Happily, today, we are robustly back on track --- thanks, in large part, to the leadership of our interim Rector and the dedicated energy of many parishioners. Hang around here long enough and you can sense the expectation of new and good things to come. We are entering a new chapter in the life of this parish, a new chapter that is brimming with opportunity, challenge and questions! Lots and lots of questions. Questions such as, what are our strengths? Where do we need to change? What are our long and short-term goals? What do we have to offer to the larger community?

The answers to these strategic questions will form the base of our call to the new rector. And, to answer these questions, it seems to me that we all need to do two crucial things. First, we need to pray --- privately, together, and expectantly --- that the Spirit of God will guide us into discernment. Then, we need to listen, listen for the answers that will come from amongst us, from within us, from the objective voices of the professionals who assist us.

To be sure, the process will be demanding. It will ask of us time, energy, mutual respect, patience. But, if we can begin this new chapter with a spirit of expectation and openness, the potential for effective future ministry of Trinity Church is significant. At least, one thing is sure: with the Spirit of God as our Guide, the journey will be anything but dull!

Amen.

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

May 6, 2007

Easter 5

Who Is Horville Sash?

This morning, I offer you just three short stories. My hope is that they will frame today’s Gospel injunction. The first story sets the stage, so to speak. The second story introduces the Gospel theme. With any luck, the third story will give this theme human features. Let’s open the curtain with story #1.

A junior high school music teacher had just organized a new band. The principal was so excited that, without consulting her, he scheduled a concert for the entire school. However, the music teacher wasn’t sure that her young musicians would be ready to give a concert on such short notice, so she tried to dissuade the principal. To no avail. After several weeks of hurried preparation, the day of the concert arrived. The auditorium was packed --- with students, teachers and parents. The house lights dimmed. The musicians took their places while the music teacher approached the podium. Before she began, however, she leaned forward and whispered to her nervous musicians, “If you’re not sure of your part, just pretend to play.” With that, she stepped back, lifted her baton and gave the downbeat…. And nothing happened! The band brought forth a resounding silence.

Sometimes, we Christians are like those students: unsure, reluctant to play our roles as disciples of Jesus. The reason for our reluctance may well be because we have trouble deciding what is important; we have trouble setting our priorities. The Gospel for the day clarifies our mission in five deceptively simple verses. In his farewell comments to his followers, we hear Jesus sum up his entire ministry--- and theirs: “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples…”

Love one another. The stage is set. Now, let’s add the color and light of metaphor to awaken our imaginations. This is the story of Horville Sash. Horville Sash had a very humble job in the office building of a huge corporation. He was a gofer in the basement of the office building doing what he could to help other do their jobs. Still, Horville often wondered about what took place on the floor above his.

Then came the day when Horville saw a large bug scurrying across the office floor. He raised his foot to flatten the helpless speck, but heard the bug cry out, “Spare me. Spare me. If you do, I will grant you all your wishes.” Horville spared the bug and was rewarded with his wish: to be promoted to the floor above. That very afternoon his boss told him the good news and Horville marched to the next floor like a MacArthur and Churchill rolled into one!

But wait! No sooner had he reached the next floor then he heard footsteps on the ceiling above. There was another floor, and Horville knew that meant higher wages and more power. The next day, Horville wished to rise to the third floor and his wish was granted. But, when arrived at the next level, he was not satisfied; he knew now that there were many other floors --- each one offering more money and more power. And so, with the help of the magic bug, Horville climbed corporate ladder; he went to the 10th…20th…50th…70th floor until finally he found himself relaxing by the indoor pool on the 96th floor. Horville had arrived at the pinnacle of power. Then, just by chance, he discovered yet another stairway. He scrambled up those stairs and found himself in the roof. Content in the knowledge that he was now the most powerful person in that huge office building, he started down the stair back to his office when he saw a young boy at the edge of the roof. The child was kneeling with his eyes closed.

“What are you doing, young man?” demanded Horville. “I’m praying, sir,” the child answered. “Praying? To whom?” Pointing a finger towards the sky, the boy replied, “to God.” Horville was gripped by panic. “Do you mean there’s an authority above me?” “Yes,” said the child matter-of-factly. Horville summoned the magic bug. “Make me God,” commanded Horville. “Put me in the kind of position that only God would hold if God were here on earth.” The next day, Horville Sash began work again as a gofer in the basement!

There is the heart of the Christian message. The God of Creation is [and this really takes the breath away] the same God who loves and serves Creation unconditionally. That astounding news was given human features in the person of Jesus of Nazareth --- with the yearning hope that it would be passed from generation to generation. Here’s how.

Edgar Guest was a renowned American poet at the turn of the 19th Century. In a memoir, he tells of a neighbor by the name of Jim Potter. Jim Potter ran the drugstore in the small town where Guest lived. The poet recalls that he would meet his neighbor daily. They would greet one another and exchange the kind of conversation held between people who were only acquaintances. Then, came a tragic moment in the life of Edgar Guest. His first born child died and the father’s grief was devastating. About a week after the child’s death, Guest had reason to go the local drugstore. When he entered, Jim Potter invited him into a back room. “Ed,” said the druggist, “I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am for you at this time. If you need anything that I can give you, you can count on me.”

Many years later, Edgar Guest wrote about that encounter in one of his books, and these are his exact words: “JUST A PERSON ACROSS THE WAY- A PASSING ACQUAINTANCE. JIM POTTER MAY HAVE LONG FORGOTTEN THAT MOMENT WHEN HE EXTENDED HIS HAND TO ME IN SYMPATHY, BUT I SHALL NEVER FORGET IT – NEVER IN ALL MY LIFE. TO ME IT STANDS OUT LIKE THE SILHOUETTE OF A LONELY TREE AGAINST A CRIMSON SUNSET.”

A few Christians may be called upon to undertake great efforts in the cause of their faith. However, the vast majority of us are given the opportunity to speak our faith in those small daily gestures of support and compassion. “Just as I have loved you, “said the Man,” you also should love one another.”

Amen.

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

April 8, 2007

Easter Day

Easter Is Something Like That

Holy Week was fast approaching. I knew that my assignments included the sermon for Easter Day. To be honest, I have always experienced a profound ambivalence about preaching on this, the Queen of Christian festivals. The message is so spectacular, the expectations are so high, and the preachers are so ---well, ordinary.

The heavy arm of hesitation kept me from my desk until several days ago. I was visiting on the phone with a beloved niece who is a busy professional woman, and also a dedicated Christian. At one point, I asked her what would make an Easter Day sermon meaningful for her.

She hesitated momentarily, then replied, “Make it a message I can relate to…give me images that I can carry into my life.” So, this morning I offer you my modest attempt to do just that: wherever you find yourself on life’s journey this Easter Day, I offer you three images of resurrection --- with the sincere hope that your spirit may cradle at least one of them as you walk into the coming Easter Season.

Scene I: Easter means joy.

No one would ever call Father Joe charismatic. His sermons, his teaching, his conduct of the liturgy were adequate, but hardly noteworthy. But, oh, his pastoral skills were outstanding, indeed. His heart and spirit were compassion incarnate. And, that ministry took his toll. Towards the end of an unusually demanding Lent, Father Joe found himself on the verge of exhaustion --- physical and mental fatigue.

He wanted nothing more than simply to guide his parish successfully through Holy Week and Easter, and then pause for a badly needed deep breath.

A few days before Good Friday, the good pastor discovered a thorn branch in the backyard of the rectory. It was twisted in such a way that it immediately reminded him of the crown of thorns so cruelly thrust upon the Savior’s head. For him, it was a perfect symbol of the Crucifixion so he placed it on the altar for the Friday liturgy and asked the altar guild to leave it there --- he would remove it first thing on Easter morning.

Early Easter Day, Father Joe entered the church building carrying a thousand details in his mind ---- check the reserved sacrament, water the plants, add names to the sick and shut-in list.

So many details, in fact, that he completely forgot about the thorn branch on the altar. On went the lights, up went the thermostat and the good priest began walking down the center aisle ---- when he stopped in his tracks. There on the altar to greet him was the loveliest Easter symbol he had ever seen: overnight, the once-barren thorn branch had exploded into a ring of bright red roses. For the first time in months, his heart sang. Easter is something like that.

Scene 2: Easter means new focus.

There once was a young man – let’s call him Carl – who quite candidly led a rather dissolute life. This was an even greater shame since he was obviously a gifted person who had not even begun to develop his skills. He drifted through his college years earning the title of Campus Party Animal. His friends thought that perhaps when he married, he might begin to grow up. He didn’t. His attractive wife only aided and abetted him in the sweet and social life. At the ripe old age of 33, even his closest friend had to admit that he had wasted his life!

Then, several years into his marriage, Carl’s wife presented him with a beautiful baby girl. The change in his life was beyond dramatic: it was absolutely incredible. He settled down, took responsibility, and focused. Friends and family could hardly believe the transformation. To this day, Carl’s main pleasure in life is being a great father. What happened? Perhaps, he was encountered. In a single moment, life intruded on him. The shallow and empty layers were ripped away and in an instant he saw --- really saw--- what life is all about, what he was meant to be, what he could become. For the first time in his prodigal life, Carl saw the truth. Easter is something like that.

Scene 3: Easter means new life.

His name was Phillip. He was eight years old and attended the third grade Sunday school at his church. Phillip was deeply loved by his friends, but frequently the rest of the world did not know how to respond to Phillip because Phillip was ----- well, different. Physically and emotionally different. The other children in Sunday school didn’t accept him or include him --- not because they were intentionally mean, but simply because they were eight years old and didn’t understand why Phillip was different.

However, one Easter Sunday morning, a wonderful thing happened. The teacher designed a really creative lesson plan that day.

First, she told them the story of Easter. Then, she gave each child one of those empty plastic eggs that open up. Next, she told them they had 15 minutes to go outside and find something that reminded them of Easter and put it inside the egg.

The children breathlessly rushed through the next 15 minutes, then reassembled in the classroom to share their discoveries. Rocks, worms, butterflies, flowers were all proudly displayed. Then, the teacher opened Phillip’s egg ---- only to find that it was empty!

The children jeered in frustration: “Oh, Phillip you cheated…You didn’t follow the instructions… you never do anything right!”

“I did so do it right,” Phillip insisted. “The egg is empty because the tomb was empty. It’s supposed to be empty because Jesus wasn’t there anymore. Jesus rose from the dead.” SILENCE. A long, deep silence. Then, an explosion of cheers. The children hugged him and patted him on the back. “ Way to go, Phillip! You did great!”

From that moment on, Phillip was accepted by his classmates. That Easter, those children celebrated BOTH the resurrection of Jesus AND the resurrection of young Phillip. Easter is something like that.

Joy, new focus, resurrected life. That is the Good News of Easter: that God raised Jesus and Jesus, in turn, has chosen to share his victory with you and me… and all the Joe’s and Carl’s and Phillips of the world. May this day bring blessing to all. Amen.

The Rev’d Gary Goldacker

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

April 6, 2007

Good Friday

The Good in Good Friday

Good Friday is a day when time seems to stand still. Because of the time of the year, in many places the day is dark and gloomy. We read again the Passion of Our Lord in somber tones, reading our parts as a reminder that even today WE are a part of that dark day. Many years ago Jim Bishop wrote a book called The Day that Christ Died. It was an hour by hour account of the crucifixion, some gospel and some fiction. But it was a powerful book that drew the reader in to the events and feelings of Good Friday. Our liturgy for today tries in its own way to accomplish the same involvement.

Good Friday is a day of suffering and pain, of disappointment and sadness, of aloneness and grief. William Willimon, a UMC bishop, says, “The cross becomes a lens through which everything is examined, the mirror in which reality is seen, the window into the facts of life.”

Indeed, when we really confront the deep grief and pain of this day, we find ourselves confronting all the pain and suffering of our own lives. We are deeply aware of those in our lives who are suffering from serious illness, those we love who have died, the situations in the world such as war and natural disaster where there seems to be no solution, no hope.

As much as we want to identify with the crucified One, we are also reminded of those times when we have been the crucifiers, those who have caused the pain and suffering of others. In short, we are called by Christ’s death to recognize the sin in ourselves for which our Lord died and was raised from the dead. Willimon sees this when he says, “I suspect that our turning away from suffering and pain has less to do with the progress of our humanity and everything to do with our lacking the spiritual or intellectual resources to confront the massive amount of suffering and pain that afflicts human life.”

Suffering, our own or that of those we love, or even those we see on the nightly news or in our newspapers, either pushes us to abandon ourselves to God in trust or it turns us in on ourselves in selfishness and self-pity. The choice is ours to make. Another author says, “In the darkness of suffering, faith alone can make a difference, and at such times faith becomes a sheer act of the will. Dying on the Cross, Jesus had no reason to abandon himself to his Father’s love”, yet he says in his agony, “Father, into your hands I commit my spirit.”

In the Cross Jesus doesn’t take on just our suffering, but also the suffering we create by our selfishness. Easter redeems that, not because we see the error of our ways and change, but because God overcomes our sin and even our despair by the fullness of his love, his compassion. The word “passion’ in Latin means “to suffer”. “Compassion” means “to suffer with”. In the Good Friday/Easter moment, God draws us to himself, on the Cross, not so much that we will suffer with Jesus, but so that God can join himself to us in our suffering.

Good Friday only makes sense when it is tied to Easter. There can be no Resurrection with death. Easter forces us to confront the reality of Good Friday. Without that realization Easter is only about lilies, rabbits, and painted eggs, no matter how much symbolism we assign to them. In the Cross our sense of our own goodness is destroyed and replaced on Easter with the true goodness of God. And that is the cause of our Easter joy.

In the Resurrection we find our true hope and faith by surrendering our selves to the God who can truly save us from ourselves.

“God is with us even in our worst moments of despair, frustration, and pain. Because this day manifests God’s being with us, we can call this Friday “good”. writes the noted theologian Norman Pittenger. So we come today to remember the sacrifice of Christ, to share in the world’s suffering, to confession our own complicity in that suffering, to venerate the Cross as the sacrament of our hope and on Easter claim as our own that new life God offers in the power of the Resurrection.

Amen

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

March 25, 2007

Lent 5

Making Sense

A number of years ago, as the story goes, oil was discovered on the Oklahoma property that belonged to a very elderly Native American. All of his life the man had been poor, but this discovery made him a wealthy man overnight. One of the first things he did was to buy himself a big touring car. Then he bought himself a stove pipe hat, added a tuxedo and completed his outfit with a big black cigar.

Everyday he would drive into the little, dusty town nearby. He wanted to see and be seen by everyone. Being a friendly and garrulous soul, he would wave at and speak with everyone he encountered...and it was amazing that, despite all these distractions, never once did he hit anyone or destroy anyone’s property. Why? Because in front of that big, beautiful car, there were two horses pulling it! Some people never grasp a new thing!

Some people [perhaps, lots of people] simply don’t know what to do with new things or new ideas --- until someone with enough patience and insight comes along to explain it to them. That’s exactly what Jesus did. In his day, some people held some strange ideas about the nature of God; their God was rigid, vengeful, unbending. So, Jesus did a lot of teaching and a lot of showing to counter these distorted ideas.

One of his most effective tools for ministry was those short stories that we call parables. For example, he used the Parable of the Prodigal Son to show just how forgiving our God is. He used the Parable of the Good Samaritan to show how inclusive our God is. And, then there is today’s story, The Parable of the Wicked Tenants.

Like all of his stories, the plot is simple – if somewhat grim in its detail- but it reveals something else quite extraordinary about this God whom we worship. A landowner sends three servants in a row to collect his rightful share of the produce only to be savagely beaten and rejected. So, finally, the owner sends his son --- thinking that, surely, the tenants will treat him with respect. Tragically, the son fares even worse and loses his life.

Let’s stop right there. After three of his servants were violently treated, why would any sane, responsible parent send his son into that kind of environment? It just doesn’t make sense. Yet, maybe that’s the point of the story. The fact that this story doesn’t make sense to a rational mind is the very thing that catches our attention and opens a window on the true nature of the living God. After all, God sent centuries of prophets to the people of Israel and watched them cruelly treated for trying to tell the people something new and wonderful about their God Yahweh. Then, God finally sent Jesus to do the same thing and watched him hammered to a cross.

Why would the God of Creation continue to act in a manner that could only be described as foolish, naïve, even irresponsible? Because God’s love defies human comprehension. Because God’s love is so profound that God will even take the huge risk of repeated rejection --- with the hope that maybe, someday, someone will begin to grasp the enormity of God’s love for His Creation.

One preacher succinctly put it this way: “ EVEN THOUGH IT DOESN’T MAKE MUCH SENSE, GOD TAKES RISKS ON YOU AND ME. IN THE MIDDLE OF OUR IMPATIENCE WITH OUR CHILDREN, GOD STILL LOVES US. IN THE MIDDLE OF…MAKING FUN OF OUR CLASSMATES, OR RIDICULING A FRIEND BEHIND HER BACK, OR GOSSIPING ABOUT A NEIGHBOR, GOD STILL LOVES US. IN THE CENTER OF OUR SIN... [IN] OUR OWN ACTS OF HATRED, PRIDE, JEALOUSY AND ARROGANCE, GOD STILL LOVES US…”

That kind of love may never make sense to our heads. But, surely, it demands the attention --- and the response --- of our hearts!

AMEN.

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

March 18, 2007

Lent 4

Fatherly Love

A writer with a love of practical jokes tells this story on himself.

One morning, shortly after his marriage, he found his wife’s wedding ring lying on the bathroom sink. He thought it would be great fun to make her think that she had lost it, so he hid the ring. Later that night, he woke up to uncontrollable sobbing. “What’s wrong?” he mumbled half asleep.

“Nothing,” she replied. By now he was wide awake. After some probing, his wife blurted out, “I’ve lost my wedding ring.”

What a relief, thought the husband. This was something he could solve immediately. “Don’t worry, honey. I have your ring.”

She growled, “What?” He answered, “I hid your ring as a joke. I’ll give it to you in the morning. Now, relax and go back to sleep.” The young man was sure that she would laugh and hug him in relief. But, the hug never came. It was dark, writes the man, so I didn’t see my bride’s fist coming, but I sure felt it land on the side of my head.” He concludes, “In two decades of marriage, that was the only time she ever hit me. It was also the last time that I touched her wedding ring! “

Most of us know what it’s like to lose something of value: a wallet, keys, a legal document. The discovery of the loss is usually the prelude to panic. Besides the inconvenience, we feel vulnerable and anxious.

This is not at all surprising because loss is the gateway to grief and grief, as we know, is layered with all these feelings.

It is so characteristic of Jesus’ teaching ministry that he took this familiar kind of human experience and used it to reveal the truly radical nature of God’s love. The story of The Prodigal Son is so rich in meaning. Inn one brief story we hear about betrayal, greed, pride, forgiveness, reconciliation. Above all, Jesus draws back the curtain and shows us how absolutely inclusive is the heart of God.

Just as the father in the story ran, embraced and welcomed his errant son’s return, so too we are told that our God stands ready with arms wide open to welcome back anyone ---- anyone!---- who shows even the slightest change of heart. And that, my friends, is breathtakingly good news!

For many Christians, this story is so very familiar. We hear the opening lines ---- “A man had two sons…” ---and we know exactly what follows. Have you ever wondered why it’s so familiar? Well, I have a theory: because it speaks to a deep craving that many people have carried with them from their childhood into their adult years.

Here’s what I mean. A father remembers the time when his four year old daughter performed in a community talent show. Seated on top of a piano, she sang the Judy Garland classic, Over the Rainbow, while her father accompanied her. At the last note, the audience erupted into applause. Father and daughter took their bows, and then retreated to the wings --- where her dad picked her up, hugged and kissed her and exclaimed, “O Sarah, I’m so proud of you. I love you so much.” A middle aged woman standing nearby witnessed this display of affection and sighed, “I wish my father had done that.” Slow to understand, the proud father replied, “You wished that your father had played the piano?” “No,” answered the woman, “I wish my father had loved me.”

Absent parents. Physically absent. Emotionally absent. Perhaps, both. For many people, their parents simply were not there when they were needed the most. So, these same adults spend years looking for substitutes: teachers, coaches, bosses, spouses. They crave that missed blessing, that missed affirmation, that missed reassurance that every human soul needs.

That gap can be filled; that hunger can be satisfied, says Jesus. Like the father in this beloved parable, we proclaim a God who ---ever now--- is running towards us with arms outstretched. That powerful image can be the start of healing. For me, that begs the question: can we, in turn, do anything less for each other?

Amen.

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

March 11, 2007

Lent 3

Our God Suffers with Us

A hospital chaplain remembers an experience in her ministry:

When I was a hospital chaplain, the calls I dreaded the most came from the pediatric floor…One day I received a call to come sit with a mother while her five-year-old daughter was in surgery for [a brain tumor]…I found the mother sitting in the waiting room beside an ashtray full of cigarette butts…I sat down beside her…and after some small talk…she told me why it had happened.

“It’s my punishment,” she said,” for smoking these damned cigarettes. God couldn’t get my attention any other way, so he made my baby sick.” Then she started crying…” Now, I’m supposed to stop, but I can’t stop. I’m going to kill my own child.”

This was too hard for me to hear [writes that chaplain], [so I countered by saying] “I don’t believe in a God like that. The God I know would never do something like that.” The only problem with my response [recalls the priest] was that it messed with the mother’s worldview…However miserable it made her, she preferred a punishing God to an absent or a capricious one…IF THERE WAS SOMETHING WRONG WITH HER DAUGHTER, THEN THERE HAD TO BE A REASON…She was even willing to BE the reason. At least that way she could get a grip on the catastrophe.

That mother needed an explanation for her daughter’s illness. However bizarre or misguided that explanation might sound to us, for this desperate woman, that answer was better than no answer at all. Don’t we all want reasons for the crises that we experience? A life-threatening illness strikes, a pink slip appears on our office desk, our spouse of twenty five years announces that she wants a divorce…. And we want to know why! We want reasons for these jolting moments.

Why are reasons so important? Because reasons [however rational or strained they are] at least, give us a fragile handle on the situation. And, that handle, in turn, gives us the not-always-justified reassurance that we have a modicum of control over life’s events.

Human nature hasn’t really changed all that much over the centuries. Look at today’s Gospel reading. One day, Jesus was challenged to give a reason for a particularly savage act of violence committed by some Roman soldiers. He countered the question with an example of another grisly event --- an accident that took eighteen innocent lives. In neither case was there any reason to think that the victims were greater sinners than other people. In fact, Jesus didn’t even offer the satisfaction of an explanation. Instead, he used the opportunity to challenge his questioners to examine their own lives. In so many words he told them, ‘Life is uncertain. Don’t judge others. Focus on your own relationship with God and neighbor.” Then, he told a little story. It was a story about a fig tree, a disappointed land owner, and a patient gardener.

Is the landowner God? Is the gardener Jesus? That’s for the listener to decide, but the meaning of the story is clear: we are dealing with a righteous God, but a righteous God who tempers justice with mercy. We are dealing with a compassionate God of second chances. Just as the gardener patiently tended to the fig tree, so too our God will patiently tend to us --- and, as God works in our lives to make us more productive, we are expected to be productive in God’s service.

William Sloane Coffin was one of the great prophetic voices of the 20th Century. One winter night, he received a call telling him that his son drunkenly drove his car into Boston Harbor and died. Days later, at the funeral, a well-intentioned acquaintance of the family tried to console the grieving father by telling him that this must be God’s will, and that God’s will simply had to be accepted. Later, Dr. Coffin admitted that, at that moment, he wanted to yell, “No, this is NOT God’s will! God did not will my son’s death. In fact, God’s heart was the first to break when [my son’s] car went down.” There it is again. The suffering God. The crucified God. Ours is the only faith to claim that our God suffers with us. Maybe, that’s why we believe in a God of justice and mercy. Maybe, that’s why we believe in a God of second chances…

Amen.

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

February 18, 2007

Last Epiphany

Getting Our Attention

Sometimes, life has a way of slipping up behind us and slapping us on the head. It can be a gentle tap, or something more painful. Here’s an example. A man was driving on a local road. He passed a traffic camera and saw it flash. This surprised him because he was, in fact, observing the speed limit. So, he turned around and passed the camera a second time. Again, he saw the camera flash. This time, he was really annoyed. He made another turn and – traveling at a snail’s pace- passed the camera yet again. Once more, he saw the camera flash. Convinced that the mechanism was broken, the man went home and promptly forgot about the incident. A month later, he received –not one-but three traffic fines in the mail --- all for NOT wearing a seat belt.

Yes, life can be frustrating, but it can also get our attention.

Of course, traffic fines are only one of many ways that life gets our attention. Failing grades can get our attention. Illness can get our attention. An explosion of anger can get our attention. Conversely, so can a gesture of affection, or act of kindness.

The point is that we often rush – or meander- through life oblivious to the important messages that life is beaming in our direction…until one moment we are forced to pay attention by a migraine headache, or a flunked exam, or a child’s spontaneous embrace. Both the bitter and the sweet can be the messengers that tell us to stop and listen to what is going on around us.

Today’s Gospel reading describes that milestone event in the New Testament which we call The Transfiguration. Some Christians cling to a literal interpretation of this event. Some Christians hear it symbolically. Still others receive it as a mixture of fact and symbol. However we hear it, it’s a story that demands our attention. It’s a story that underscores the need to listen --- listen attentively--- to the life of Jesus. There is no doubt that the key verse in this passage is God’s exclamation, “This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!”

A Catholic priest tells the story of a young man named Tommy who was a student in his theology course in college. Tommy was “the resident atheist” – always objecting to, or smirking at the possibility of an unconditionally loving God. At the end of the course, he asked the priest in a slightly cynical tone, “Father, do you think that I’ll ever find God?” “No,” answered the priest, “but I am absolutely certain that one day God will find you, Tommy.” The young man shrugged and left the room.

Several years passed when the priest received word that this young man had a terminal illness. Not long after that, Tommy showed up in the priest’s office.

“Tommy, I’ve been thinking about you. I hear you are sick.”

“O yes, very sick.”

“Can you talk about it?”

“Sure, what would you like to know?”

“Well, what’s it like to be in your mid-twenties and dying?”

“It could be worse.”

“Worse? Like what?”

“Like reaching fifty and thinking that power and money and sex are the real biggies in life….but the reason I’m here, Father, is because of something you said to me once. I asked you if I would ever find God, and you said, no, but God would find me. Well, I have been thinking about those words for some time and one day I woke up and decided to spend what time I have left doing something worthwhile. So, I began by telling the people closest to me that I loved them. I began with the hardest person of all --- my dad.

“He was reading the newspaper when I approached him. ‘Dad, I would like to talk to you.’ ‘Well, talk.’ ‘No, Dad, this is really important.’ The paper lowered several inches. ‘What is it?’ ‘Dad, I love you. I just wanted you to know that.’ The newspaper fluttered to the floor, and then my father did something he had never done before: he cried and he hugged me. It felt so good to be close to my father.

“It was easier with my mother and younger brother and my close friends. Then, one day I knew – I just knew deep inside of me --- that God was there. God was really there. You were right, Father. I didn’t find God. God found me.”

Tommy learned a universal lesson, a lesson that is available to any and all. The surest way to find God is to open ourselves to the possibility of love ---- our love for others, their love for us. Then, in that love we can listen, listen hard, for the soft whisper of God.

AMEN.

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

February 4, 2007

5 Epiphany

Availability

In today’s cultural climate, there are certain topics that are guaranteed to create controversy: politics, sexuality, the issues of war and peace --- to name but an obvious handful. The same holds true in the area of religion: liberal vs. conservative; mainstream vs. evangelical; believers vs. non-believers…and here’s another loaded word in the religious arena: discipleship!

Even though “discipleship” is a basic word of the Christian vocabulary, ironically, it can evoke a variety of negative responses such as guilt, confusion, inadequacy, embarrassment. We hear someone mention “a call to discipleship” and, quite honestly, we often mentally check out!

The fact is that much of our discipleship is done in the course of our daily routine and conversations. I think of a woman, for instance, who was playing her weekly game of tennis with good – but quite secular – friends. In a brief conversations between sets, she made mention to something she had read earlier that morning. Now, she might have said something like “I read something this morning that really made me think.” Instead, quite matter-of-factly, she said, “In my devotional reading this morning…”

No false piety here, no drama, no flash. Just a simple, straightforward phrase that said, yes, I am a person of faith. Her friends were welcome to let it pass or ask questions. But, she identified herself AND she made herself available for conversation. That’s discipleship!

AVAILABILITY. That’s what made all the difference in today’s Gospel story. In their relationship to Jesus, Peter, James and John were neophyte followers. But, when it came to fishing, they were pros! Years of experience taught them the how’s, why’s, where’s and when’s of the local waters. So, after a long, frustrating night on the Sea of Galilee, Jesus’ order to return to this labor-intensive task must have been puzzling – to say the very least. And yet ---- what a qualifying phrase--- and yet, they did. They made themselves available to Jesus’ words, and the result was….well, miraculous.

AVAILABILITY --- not perfection, not ability ----is the key to discipleship. Speaking personally, here is a lesson that I struggle to re-learn every single day. Intellectually, I know that every Christian is called to discipleship. Intellectually, I know that we are all supposed to be reflections of Jesus’ example. I also know, however, that I am frequently assaulted by the demons of inadequacy. When I celebrate the Eucharist, when I enter the pulpit, when I stand by a hospital bed or a grave --- even when I attempt to offer well-intentioned counsel, I often catch myself wondering, who do you think you are? Who gave you the right to invoke the name of God on behalf of others?

Well, I’ll tell you what keeps me going. I’ll tell you what keeps me from removing this collar permanently: it’s my colleagues AND my fellow-parishioners --- YOU! Witnessing your many quiet, but love-laden gestures to one another, observing your concerned outreach to the community beyond --- it’s this that helps me re-learn this fundamental lesson of availability again and again. AVAILABILITY ---not perfection, not ability --- is the key to discipleship. Without it, nothing much can happen. With it, the potential to work miracles is within reach.

Today’s Gospel concludes with this sentence: “When [the disciples] had brought their boats to shore, they left everything and followed him.” Woody Allen put it this way” “Showing up is 90 percent!” Perhaps, he was onto something!

Amen.

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

January 21, 2007

3 Epiphany

Being Compassionate

Last Monday, the nation paused to remember Martin Luther King, Jr. The day was marked in the usual way: speeches, worship, recollections. Throughout the day, National Public Radio broadcast several segments in his honor. I don’t know how other listeners reacted, but I found myself especially aware of a common thread in all of these statements.

Of course, the people interviewed all acknowledged Dr. King’s powerful oratory. He could rivet the attention of just about any congregation he addressed. Yet, what surfaced as his most endearing quality was his compassion. Story after story testified to his personal encounters with deprived, confused, angry individuals and the softening difference his presence made to these people.

I don’t know why I was so struck by this. After all, the moments that we often remember best are those moments when we have found ourselves in need and someone has reached out to us: a flat tire on a deserted highway; directions that make no sense in a strange city; a sudden emergency that requires transportation. It’s situations like these and those who respond to them that we tend to remember in detail. Why? Because we were feeling vulnerable and someone cared. It’s as simple and profound as that!

It was precisely that kind of caring that so marked the ministry of Jesus. We see it writ large in today’s Gospel event. Luke tells us that, early in his ministry, Jesus returned to his hometown of Nazareth. There he attended Sabbath worship at the local synagogue. It was at that service that he read from the prophet Isaiah. In doing so, he set the agenda for the rest of his life. His mission was to focus his time and energy on those crushed by any kind of physical, spiritual or emotional suffering.

That moment was truly definitive for Jesus and is equally definitive for us. What was essential for him is essential for us: help the poor; remember the imprisoned; aid the handicapped; be sensitive to the marginalized… in other words, be attentive to vulnerability! In his public declaration that day, Jesus was telling his listeners --- and us--- that if we really want to find the presence of God, then look for Him where people hurt!!! It’s there that we are most apt to find God.

That charge can be overwhelming because sometimes human need seems so overwhelming. But, when we are tempted to throw up our hands in despair, let’s try to remember this stabilizing advice: save the world one person at a time. Our efforts may seem small to us, but in fact they can make a big difference. Just listen to this parable…

… A man died. He had not lived the best of lives. If the truth be told, he was something of a scoundrel. Not surprisingly then, he found himself in hell. Concerned about his fate, the few friends that he had made the arduous trip down to Hell where they rattled those formidable iron gates and demanded that he be released. Let him out, let him out, they called. Unfortunately, their entreaties accomplished nothing. The gates of Hell remained shut.

Their appearance was followed by a handful of celebrities and dignitaries who eloquently stated any number of reasons why the man should be freed. Let him ot, let him out, they called. Still, the gates of Hell remained shut.

In desperation, the man’s pastor was enlisted. Fully vested, he demanded that Satan free his sometime-parishioners.” Let him out, let him out. After all,” reasoned the clergyman, “he really wasn’t such a bad chap. In fact, he once contributed to the church building fund and even helped twice and the parish soup kitchen.” Still, the gates of Hell remained shut.

Finally, after all the friends, the dignitaries and the pastor left the underworld in dejection, the man’s aged mother appeared at the gates of Hell. She stood there alone, weak and stooped, and whispered softly in maternal love, “Let me in. Please let me in.” Immediately, the gates of Hell swung open and the condemned man was set free.

Write a letter. Make a phone call. Bake a casserole. Small as they may seem, gestures like these are tangible expressions of care… the kind of care that can penetrate even the deepest realms of need.

AMEN.

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

January 14, 2007

2 Epiphany

Pour the Wine!

Once upon a time, there was this skeptic who continually harassed the local pastor. His one delight in life seemed to be making the clergyman look inadequate. For years, the pastor bore this challenge with saintly restraint. One day, the skeptic was heckling the pastor about his view on miracles. “Give me one concrete example of a miracle, pastor “taunted the man. “ Just one concrete example and then maybe I’ll believe.” Whereupon the clergyman hauled off and kicked he man furiously on the shin.

The skeptic couldn’t believe it. The pain! The audacity!

The pastor smiled benignly and asked, “Did you feel that?”

Nursing his leg the other man replied, “Feel it? Feel it? Of course, I felt it!”

“Well my friend, if you had not,” answered the pastor, “THAT would have been a miracle.”

Skeptics notwithstanding, miracles fill our lives. They come in a variety of styles. For example, there are everyday miracles such as parking spaces where there seldom are any. Then, there are medium-sized miracles such as reunions after years of estrangement. Finally, there are the mega sized miracles such as healing despite the odds.

Be they everyday, medium or mega sized, a common definition for any miracle goes something like this: anything that happens that we cannot fully explain, or that isn’t the way things usually happen.

That would certainly fit today’s Gospel story. St. John calls it the first miracle [or sign] of Jesus. It seems that early in his ministry Jesus along with family and disciples attended a wedding celebration in a nearby town. Apparently, the celebration was in full swing when suddenly a potential crisis loomed; the host ran out of wine. In that culture, this would have been much more than just a temporary embarrassment. It would have been a humiliation that would stain the family’s reputation for years --- not to mention an ugly omen for the newly wed couple.

Mary turned to Jesus, and her voice had the decided maternal edge that said, “ Do something…please!” At first, Jesus hesitated --- he feared the reputation of a sensational miracle worker --- but, in the end, his heart trumped his reluctance. He felt the family’s embarrassment. He cared about their predicament. The result went far beyond merely adequate. That gathering was blessed with an abundance of superior wine.

The richness of wine in this fabled story is like a reflection of the rich meaning inherent in it.

Do our 21^st Century minds have problems with the near-magical elements of this story? If so, it still packs a punch if we let ourselves hear it as a parable of God’s abundant love.

Do our cynical sides seriously question Jesus’ ambivalence in this situation? If so, we are still left with a moving cameo that says emphatically, people do matter!

Do our enlightened sensitivities dismiss the story as so much 1^st Century naiveté? If so, the wedding in Cana reassures us that miracles still happen!

Even if water-into-wine is a stretch for our minds to accept, here’s a story that unapologetically maintains, miracle still do take place; things occur that we cannot fully explain; things unfold in ways that are unusual ---- things like reconciliation among nations that have fought each other for years, things like conquered diseases that have plagued humankind for centuries, things like information that travels instantly through space…and on and on…

…and then, good people of Trinity Church, and then we have the miracle unfolding in our very midst. Look around. Listen. Observe. There is the scent of the miraculous in this parish: can you sense healing, communication, hope, optimism?! No, the situation isn’t perfect. It never is in any faith community; we are, after all, a work in process. That said, there is undeniably a new energy in the air.

A stranger might explain it as simply a change in circumstances. Those familiar with our life together, however, might sense a movement of the Spirit. These are the people open to the possibility…

…that God IS a God of abundance;

…that people DO matter;

…that miracles still DO happen.

The wedding in Cana beckons, invites, challenges us to find out for ourselves.

Amen.

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

January 7, 2007

1 Epiphany

His Baptism - Our Baptism!

This has been quite a week for our nation: a week of significant endings and beginnings. For three somber days, we said farewell to the late 38^th President, Gerald R. Ford. Then, a day later, solemnity gave way to celebration with the inauguration of elected officials. Across the nation, towns, cities, states along with Washington, D.C. were aswirl in the pomp and ceremony that heralds the beginning of olitical careers.

Whether it’s a new mayor or president, inaugurations are important for several reasons. First, they are a public acknowledgement that a particular person has been duly elected. Secondly, inaugural moments empower those same individuals; they give them access to the tools of law and tradition necessary to do the job they were chosen to perform.

Today, many Christian congregations gather to remember the baptism of Jesus. All three of the synoptic gospels [Matthew, Mark and Luke] proclaim his baptism as the defining inaugural event of his public ministry… and that comparison is accurate. Consider what happened: First, he was acknowledged by John the Baptist and then by God as the Messiah: Luke writes, “…and a voice came from heaven [saying], ‘you are my Son…with you I am well pleased.” And then, there’s more: Luke also writes that when Jesus had been baptized, “…the Holy Spirit descended upon him in bodily form like a dove.”

This is a metaphorical way of saying that Jesus was empowered for his ministry by nothing less than the Spirit of God.

Chosen, acclaimed, empowered. At the baptism of Jesus, the inauguration of the Kingdom of God was made visible in one unforgettable life. There, in a sentence, is the message of today’s Scripture.

But, the message doesn’t stop there --- simply because the baptism of Jesus begs this next comparison. Like his, ALL baptisms are big events. No, we are not called be the Messiah --- there was only one. Yet, in the baptismal rite, we ARE all called to be followers of this Jesus. WE ARE all called to share in his ministry. We ARE all called to become members of the world-wide Christian community…AND we are all empowered to fill this calling.

How are we empowered? The resources are many: worship, prayer, study, service. The important thing is to find what resources work best for us in each phase of our journey in faith. Equally important is our awareness of those resources. Sometimes they come to us in scheduled and well-planned formats. Sometimes, though, they are offered to us in the most unexpected way. Here’s one such example.

A senior priest recalls with delight and wonder the day an adorable little girl came to the communion rail with her family. The child was around five years old. The clergyman gave her the communion wafer and started to move to the next person at the rail when he felt the child tug at his vestments. She indicated for him to wait while she fished in her small purse. Moments later, she handed him an animal cracker. The man was moved to joyful tears. As he turned around to collect himself, his assistant asked him if he were all right.

He whispered, “I just received communion from a child. Yes, I am all right --- very all right.” And he was.

When we think about it, it’s all really so simple: to be part of a faith community; to love and be loved. Arguably, that is the greatest resource of all --- and it’s given to each of us in the waters of our baptism.

Amen.

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

December 25, 2006

Christmas Eve and Christmas Day

Good News: the Incarnation

And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth…So wrote St. John the Evangelist some two millennia ago. We Christians have a name for that earth-turning Event; we call it The Incarnation --- that is, God made human.

The prophet Isaiah predicted it; the Lord is coming to save you. In his letter to Titus, Paul interpreted it; the Savior came among us through no goodness of our own, but through the mercy of God. Finally, Luke announced the Good News; this day in the city of David, that Savior was born. Isaiah, Paul, Luke --- they spoke their lines and played their roles nobly. Now, let me tell you about Alice.

Alice lived in another era, an era before the invention of therapies that could treat the maladies of body and mind. Equally, she lived in an era before the human conscience became sensitive to the defects that afflict body and mind.

Young Alice lived in an orphanage, and now here she was going through yet another interview. Alice had come to dread these moments because each interview was always the same. She would be summoned to the superintendent’s office where she would hear muffled conversation describing her as “slow” or “limited.” Then, she would be called into the office where she would be scrutinized inch by inch. She hated it. She felt like a specimen under a microscope --- not the homeless young girl that she was. The images of past interviews remained painfully present: the time when one woman wouldn’t look at her after she saw how ill-fitting Alice’s clothes were; or, the time when people laughed at her stutter; or, worst of all, those times when she was rejected because her clubfoot made her unsuitable even to be a servant.

Now, here she was again, under the searching gaze of the young man and woman in front of her. By now, she was afraid even to hope… and yet… there was something gentle, something kind, and something different about this couple. The woman remained seated while the gentleman slowly walked around Alice. Then, he stopped and glanced at his wife and sat down. The couple looked at each other for several moments without a word. Then, the young man turned to the superintendent and said, “Yes, she’s the one. We would like to have her.” The superintendent just shook his head in disbelief.

“ You mean you want me to be your ssssservant,” stuttered Alice, stunned. The pretty young woman smiled, “No Alice, we want you to be our daughter.” For a moment, this was impossible to grasp. No one had ever said that before, Oh, she had dreamed of it many times, but now that it had happened she simply could not believe it.

“Yes Alice,” continued the man, “We’ve never had children, but we think that we have a lot of love to give, and we want to give that love to you ---- we really want you to be happy.”

“But, why me?” asked Alice in lingering disbelief. Wordlessly, the pretty young woman reached down and pulled up her floor length dress to reveal her own badly deformed foot. "Today, we want you to be our child. Please Alice, come home with us.”

That’s what the Incarnation is all about. God came to earth --- not just looking like one of us, not just a mirror image --- but actually a full human being who shared the same menu of human joy and suffering. If we believe anything less than that then we fall into the trap of believing that God will only accept what is already perfect --- and, of course, that leaves all of us out!

That would be the bad news --- the REALLY bad news. But, today, we gather to celebrate Good News: the Incarnation. What hope! What possibility! What a gift! A merry …and blessed Christmas to all of you.

Amen.

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

December 10, 2006

Advent II

What's a Balcony Person?

From time to time, we all like to reminisce. Remember when such and such happened? Remember when so and so did that? Questions like that pepper our conversation. In fact, reminiscing is about as natural to the human species as breathing, and when we do reminisce, we frame our memories: it was the time that we visited Uncle Fred and Aunt Minnie in Maine; or, we were celebrating your 16th birthday when the dog ate your cake… Dates, places, people remind us that the events and personalities we remember from the past were real --- certain things actually happened, certain people actually lived.

That’s why today’s Gospel begins with a tongue-twisting list of historical figures who were apparently well-known in their day. But, they are not the focus. John the Baptist is the focus here. All the others are mentioned to reassure the reader that John really lived and really played the pivotal role that Luke is about to describe.

What was that role? Some call him the forerunner of the Messiah. Other refer to him as the last great Hebrew prophet. Some of us like to call him a great “balcony person.” What’s that? Let me answer like this:

One Sunday morning, a neatly dressed man disrupted a worship service in a suburban church. Right in the middle of the sermon, he stood up in the balcony and shouted, “ I have a word from the Lord!” Like gazelles, the ushers dashed up the stairs and escorted the man out the front doors of the church. When we stop and think about it, there’s a kind of hidden irony here. Week after week, clergy stand in pulpits and make the same kind of statement --- yet, no ushers bound into the pulpit to drag us away. [ At least, not yet!] Now, in all probability, that fellow in the balcony was either a crank or running low on reality. Yet, maybe, just maybe, he did have something worthwhile to share. We’ll never know --- and that’s the point of the story. Often the word of God does come from the balcony --- that is, the Lord speaks and acts through the most unlikely people and from the most unexpected places.

That’s what I mean when I call John the Baptist a great “balcony person.” This strange [some would say, bizarre] individual would stand out awkwardly in any community. Yet, the Bible tells us that God used him to announce the coming of the Messiah. “ Get ready,” he warned his listeners, “ the Messiah is coming. Get your act together. Get right with God.” AND THEN HE USED THE R….WORD!

REPENT! If your imagination works like mine, that word is loaded with images. Some of them are conflicted, some are frightening, and some are even humorous. That said, the idea of repentance [if not the process] is actually quite easy to understand. Repentance comes from the Greek word metanoia which translated refers to a change of mind, a change of heart, a change in one’s style of living. Perhaps, this story will make its meaning more accessible.

One evening, a member of Alcoholics Anonymous stood up and addressed his peers. “ My recovery began the day that I bought an exceptionally fine watch.” Now, that got people’s attention. What could possibly be the connection between a fine timepiece and recovery from a terrible addiction? The gentleman went on the explain that this watch did far more than simply tell time. It combined a chronometer, a stop-watch, a calendar and an astrological instrument that indicated the phases of the moon. “ When I put it on later that day, I realized something,” he continued. “ I realized that if this watch ever needed repair, I could not take to just any jeweler. I could not take to any ordinary repair person. I would have to send it directly to its maker.”

He paused, and then added, “ Then, it struck me… like that watch, my life is also a very complicated affair, It had broken down and was badly in need repair. That’s when I decided that my only chance was to take it back to its Maker. That’s why I’m here tonight.”

That’s what repentance is. It’s both a confession and a decision--- a decision to constantly turn our lives over to our Maker for spiritual [and possibly even physical] repair. Like the AA process, none says it’s easy, but it can be life-giving. That’s the bad news and the good news wrapped in one package. The bad news is that repentance can be difficult and painful. But, the good news far outweighs the bad --- the Good News reminds us that our Maker is open for business 24/7!!!

AMEN.

The Rev’d Dr. Paul S. Koumrian

Trinity Episcopal Church, Newport, RI

December 3, 2006

Advent Sunday

Patience

Once upon a time, there was a little girl named Lucinda. Lucinda loved everything about Christmas --- the decorating, the cooking, the music, but most of all, she loved opening her presents on Christmas Day. She couldn’t wait to see what she was going to get…

…and one year, she didn’t wait. She sneaked into the closet where her parents kept the presents and she peeked; she unwrapped each one just enough to see what was inside. At first, she was very excited with her discovery, but as the day wore on, a funny thing happened: she began to feel sadder and sadder. Then, she understood why: all the excitement of waiting was gone. Now, she had nothing to look forward to on Christmas Day.

We can only hope that young Lucinda learned something from her experience: the need to cultivate patience! Why is patience so important? Because so much of our lives is spent waiting: waiting for a child to come home; waiting for a promotion; waiting for a diagnosis.

And, isn’t it curious, like the Roman god, Janus, waiting also can wear two faces. The inconclusiveness, the not knowing can make time move with excruciating slowness. On the other hand, waiting can also be enormously productive. It all depends on how we use it --- and that, in turn, depends upon our patience.

Advent is a time of waiting, deep waiting: waiting for purple to change to white; waiting for the beloved carols to be sung; waiting for Matthew and Luke’s familiar words to unfold, once again, the greatest birth ever recorded.

Yet, Advent is neither a time of anxious waiting nor a passive, victimized waiting. It is a time activity: preparation, reflection, expectancy. If we are willing to use it wisely, Advent can be a time of welcome reassurance because it reminds us that, whatever our current situation, our God is both at the end of our journey and a companion through it. It’s that conviction that will help us to cultivate the secret of successful waiting: patience.

I began this homily with a story about Lucinda. Let me end it with another story about an eight-year-old named Greg. One spring, Greg and his grandfather worked hard to prepare a patch of ground to become a vegetable garden. Like most youngsters – and quite a few adults! – Greg had not yet mastered the fine art of patience. So, it fell to Grandpa to instill the seeds this virtue into his grandson.

“One of the most important things about gardening is patience,” he told Greg. “ …which means that you have to wait for the plants to grow in their own time?”

“I hate waiting,” replied Greg.

“ Well, waiting is all part of what we call patience,” continued Grandpa.

“ But, what am I supposed to do while I’m waiting? Just sit?” Greg wanted to know.

“ Well, while you’re waiting,” suggested Grandpa, “maybe you can look for weeds, or read a book on gardening, or make a schedule to show your new garden with friends. That’s what we call ‘constructive waiting.’ …and besides, if you’re waiting for something that’s really important, well then, the waiting is really worth it.”

If you’re waiting for something that’s really important, well then, the waiting is really worth it. For those of us who wait to hear the hope-filled story of that special Birth, here are words of encouragement. Anyway, waiting is always easier in good company!

AMEN.