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Go Now to Zarephath

A sermon for the 25th Sunday after Pentecost: Proper 27
November 10, 2024, at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, Hot Springs, Arkansas

Readings: I Kings 17:8-16; Psalm 146; Mark 12:38-44

“Go now to Zarephath,” God tells the prophet Elijah today. The story from the Hebrew Scriptures takes place in the midst of a famine that Elijah himself prophesied. Elijah and the wicked King Ahab are facing off, and in the background, God is facing down Baal, the false god who was believed to provide rain and harvest plenty. As this false god takes hold in Israel because of Ahab’s leadership, God sends the prophet in to remind the king and the nation not to put their trust in rulers or any child of earth or in any idol that they might make; but to put their trust in God, both in good times and in bad times.

Help Wanted

A sermon for All Saints’ Sunday
November 3, 2024, at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, Hot Springs, Arkansas

Readings: Wisdom of Solomon 3:1-9; Psalm 24; Revelation 21:1-6a; John 11:32-44

Help wanted. Heaven in need of Saints. You open up the classifieds and you come across this ad. You’ve been looking for work. Help wanted. Heaven in need of Saints. Job description: Praise God for eternity. Pray for those on earth. Compensation: None. You have to buy in some way. It might be through suffering, sickness, and pain. It might be through persecution and blood. But it’s gonna cost you. Benefits: Eternal life. Training required: Extensive on-the-job training with the Holy Spirit. Skills needed: Must be able to carry a cross. Help wanted. Heaven in need of Saints.

The Gospel in Costume

A sermon for the 23rd Sunday after Pentecost: Proper 25
October 27, 2024, at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, Hot Springs, AR

Readings: Hebrews 7:23-28; Mark 10:46-52

In a few days, my street, Prospect Avenue, will be flooded with trick-or-treaters dressed in costume hoping for a sugar high. The neighbors have already put up their decor. Some have terrifying displays with motion-activated screams. There are spiders and ghosts and goblins. Others have tamer displays. One of my neighbors sets up a projector screen to play “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown.” The costumes that visit the neighborhood will have the same divide. Some will be horrifying, blood-covered, windows into darkness. Others will be whimsical, straight out of the latest Disney movie, full of light. I think all of this has something to tell us. I think that it might just be that the gospel will be there, parading up and down my street, hidden in costume.

Money and Loving God

A sermon for the 21st Sunday after Pentecost: Proper 23
October 13, 2024, at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, Hot Springs, AR

Readings: Mark 10:17-31

Last week, divorce; this week, give all your money away. Come on, Jesus, this preacher is just asking for an easy week! We read today that Jesus is approached by a man, whom we learn has many possessions. He is a rich man. He runs to Jesus and kneels before him. We can see his sincerity. Unlike those encounters Jesus has with the Pharisees, this man is not trying to trap Jesus. He really wants to know: What do I need to do to inherit eternal life? Jesus sees this man’s sincerity, his heart, which is why he answers in the way that he does.

Jesus Loves You

A sermon for the 20th Sunday after Pentecost: Proper 22
October 6, 2024, at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, Hot Springs, AR

Readings: Mark 10:2-16

I remember the house. I remember it as blue with woods behind it where my first dog Snoopy ran away. Who knows if that’s true. The TV would play Barney or my favorite show, Lamb Chop. My parents enjoyed watching Cops. I memorized the theme song early on. My room had a small strip of dinosaur wallpaper around the top. And I remember the trailer, where Mom, my brother, and I moved out to. It was near a farm, and there was a pig. I threw a rock at a wasp nest and got stung several times. Maybe I was three or four. I remember the women’s shelter, the tree lined drive to a protected house, the small bedroom for my mother, brother, and me. There was a playground. That was where we moved next. I didn’t know why we moved there. I learned much later that my biological father, whose long pattern of abuse had finally driven my mother to that trailer–I learned he had been calling the trailer, recounting with menacing detail where we had been that day, threatening to kidnap my brother and me. That’s why we moved to the shelter. That’s why we moved from South Carolina to Missouri, where no one would find us.

In Memoriam: Gary Wayne Murphy

A sermon for the funeral of Gary Murphy
October 5, 2024, at St. Alban’s Episcopal Church, Stuttgart, AR

Readings: Joshua 1:5-9; Revelation 21:2-7; John 6:37-40

What I remember about the first time I met Gary is his smile. His smile captured his kindness, his generosity, his happiness. He served for a time on the vestry here right after I arrived, but before he and Elaine moved to be closer to Lee. He smiled, and he was welcoming, and he had a little bit of a crush on Molly.

The Secret to Bread

A sermon for the Tenth Sunday after Pentecost: Proper 12
July 28, 2024, at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, Hot Springs

Readings: John 6:1-21

“The secret is in the hands.” A French baker told me that once, holding up his hands while he said it. I would go to the farmer’s market every weekend to get food when I was a student in France. I bought my bread from the same guy every week. I asked him what made his bread so good, thinking he must have some secret ingredient in his recipe. He said, “The secret is in the hands.” He went on to explain that his bread was simple: flour, water, salt, yeast–just like any bread. But he claimed to have some special method of kneading the dough by hand to perfection. That alone, he claimed, set his bread apart.

A Response to Political Violence

A sermon for the Eighth Sunday after Pentecost: Proper 10
July 14, 2024, at St. Luke’s Episcopal Church, Hot Springs

Readings: Mark 6:14-29

We come today with two texts of political violence. The first is our gospel reading. Herod executes John the Baptist at the behest of his daughter. Mark wants to hedge a little bit; Herod comes off as a reluctant executioner. But we should be suspicious of that. Everything we know about the Herods paints them as a family of cruel and exacting tyrants. Herod executes John to send a message–don’t cross me, he says. And if a head on a silver platter will entertain his guests, Herod won’t hesitate.