“We preach not ourselves, but Christ Jesus as Lord

and ourselves as your servants, for Jesus’ sake.”

(2 Cor.4:5, RSV)

Installatio n of Fr. Brian Rebholtz

Joshua 1:1-9                                                                                   Jan Robitscher

Psalms 133 and 134                                                             St. Luke’s, Auburn, CA

2 Corinthians 4:1-11                                                                    October 28, 2015

Luke 10:1-11

(Sung) In the silent hours of night,

bless the Lord.

In the Name of God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Bishop Beisner, Fr. Brian and your family, dear People of God: It hardly seems possible that it was three and a half years ago that I witnessed Fr. Brian’s ordination to the priesthood. Now, after a time of learning and growing as an Associate for Christian Formatio on the Other Coast, Fr. Brian has been called here to be your Priest-in-Charge; a new ministry with its joys and perils.  

The readings chosen for this service could fill several sermons! I will resist that temptation and follow the admonition I often give my preaching students at the School for Deacons. A closer look will reveal several over-arching themes that I believe are part and parcel of the ministry Fr. Brian is called to do here, with and among you. There is also a word that came to me from each reading. Together, these will form the Good News of this sermon.

All of these readings have to do with God’s call and  the process of responding to it. This is important because we have almost lost the language of “call” from the process of finding and naming those who will lead us, and from the discernment of the ministries we do in Christ’s Name. We say that a Rector or Priest-in-Charge is “elected” or “named” or “chosen” to serve a parish or mission--anything but “call”.  But call is what God does. So before anything is done, that call must be heard.

Joshua was called by God from being an assistant to Moses to being a leader of the People Israel.  No preparation. No asking if he was ready. But God did have things to say to Joshua; specific instructions about how he was to lead the people and what would be the outcome; about claiming the land promised to Moses, but which Moses never lived to see. And words of encouragement: 

As I was with Moses, so I will be with you;

I will not fail you or forsake you. Be strong

and courageous...

God calls, and Joshua listens and obeys. Listen!

St. Paul came to ministry by a very different route, transformed by a profound conversion from persecutor of the earliest Christians to being a leader ranked among the Apostles.  God called out in the voice of Jesus, “Saul, Saul, why do you persecute me?” Again, God had specific instructions for the now-converted Paul, and he listened and obeyed. But did you notice something unique in this passage? Here, Paul never speaks of himself in the first person singular: I. No, he always refers to himself and his ministry in the plural--a ministry among God’s people; not to or for them.  Here “ourselves” has a double meaning: that of the preachers of the Good News and, more generally, the earliest Christians:

For we preach not ourselves, but Christ Jesus

as Lord and ourselves as your servants for

Jesus’ sake.

And he goes on to give God all the credit--all the glory--for the Good News he is proclaiming:

For it is the God who said “Let light shine out of darkness,”

who has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge

of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ.

The word from this passage is: Proclaim!

In our Gospel reading Jesus sends out the seventy ahead of him--about as many as this little parish!  And he sent them in pairs and, like the other two readings, with specific instructions. This is not accidental. We think of ministry as a solitary endeavor, something we figure out and do as individuals. This is especially true of clergy, who often find themselves isolated and lonely. Jesus will have no such thing! Notice that he sends out the seventy by twos, and ahead of him to proclaim the Kingdom of God. He is the Good Shepherd, who, like ordinary shepherds, watches the flock from behind, always guarding and guiding them. So it should be in the Church. YOU are the ministers of the Church! Fr. Brian is here to help show you how and where your gifts are needed, and to send you out.  Serve!

Now what might all of this really have to do with Fr. Brian’s call to be Priest-in-Charge here at St. Luke’s? These readings show a pattern of God’s call: Listen, Proclaim, Serve. Hearing God’s voice,  then acting on the call that God has made, serving each other and the wider community. This is not only the way that Fr. Brian came to you, it is the pattern I hope you will take up as a way of being Church. 

Listen. Proclaim. Serve. If this sounds at all familiar it is because I have taken a page from Anne Lamott’s popular book on prayer, Help, Thanks, Wow.  I think she is onto something here, and it brings me to the one reading we have not mentioned yet, the Psalm, and to the charge that I have for Fr. Brian.

(Sung) In the silent hours of night,

    bless the Lord.

The final word from the readings tonight is: Pray.  Psalm 134 is one of those that monks use at the end of the day, at the Office of Compline. It is very short, only two verses. But it speaks an invitation to “Bless the Lord... you that stand by night in the house of the Lord”; to lift holy hands in prayer always, even, at times, in the dark through the night. It is an invitation for all of us to a very different kind of prayer. We think of receiving God’s blessing, and it is wonderful to hear ourselves pronounced good in God’s sight. But this Psalm asks us to bless God. To bless God is to give thanks, to call God good--what we are about to do in the Eucharist--and in turn, the Psalmist prays that God will bless us; the Lord who made both heaven and earth.

Most clergy can’t remember the charge given to them at their ordination. So I will offer a new one, first to the congregation assembled (I won’t make you stand!) and then to Fr. Brian. 

Now I say to the church: Rejoice and give thanks that God’s Grace calls us all to a wide variety of ministries, yet brings us to unity in Christ through the Spirit. Be willing to look beyond your walls for these ministries, and invite those outside to come and see this community. Always remember that Fr. Brian (or any priest, deacon or anyone leading worship) does not do this in a vacuum. We--all of us--are necessary to complete the prayer. And rejoice that God has called Fr. Brian here to listen, proclaim, serve and pray with and for you. 

Now to Fr. Brian: It has been (and continues to be) an honor to watch  you learn and grow in your faith and in the vocation God has given you. From your first days in seminary I have seen you move from studying theology to developing a deep prayer life, falling in love and starting a family, ordination and now to applying in your ministry the theology you have studied. 

I want to paraphrase some words of Archbishop Ramsey and add a few verses from the Second Letter to Timothy, which contains perhaps the earliest charge we have:

As a priest, you have bound yourself to “the strong name

of the Trinity” and asked Jesus to be with you all ways. And you have been called to display in your person the the total response

to Christ=--to be a beacon of the Church’s pastoral,

prophetic and priestly concern, to which we are all pledged

at Baptism. I solemnly urge you: Proclaim the message

[in season and out of season]; convince, rebuke and 

encourage with all patience in teaching... Always be sober, 

endure suffering, do the work of an evangelist, 

carry out your ministry fully.

...The Lord be with your spirit. Grace be with you.1 

Listen. Proclaim. Serve and pray! And be among us in all the ways

that we are about to hear in the Induction, but especially 

as a person of prayer.    

(Sung) In the silent hours of night

bless the Lord.

May God bless this New Ministry, of Fr. Brian and of this congregation, now and always.  Amen.

“Be strong, do not fear!

Hear is your God.”

(Isaiah 35:4a)

Monday, Advent II                                                                                Jan Robitscher

Isaiah 35:1-10                                                                                     CDSP--All Saints' Chapel

Psalm 85:8-13                                                                                     December 8, 2014

Luke 5:17-26

Marana tha! Come, Lord Jesus!

Advent is the season of the comings of Christ: past, present and future. The word “Advent” means literally “to come to”.  For most folks the main focus of this season is on the past, remembering the coming of Jesus at his birth, the fulfillment of ages of longing for a Savior, of longing for God to break into our good world marred by sin. This is not a bad thing! But it is also not complete. God comes to us continually and in many ways from the beginning of the cosmos until the end of time as we know it. Yet to only dwell on God coming to us--even most supremely in the Coming of Jesus-- is to miss an important part of this season. What about our coming to God? Advent, then, is the season of God’s comings to us and of our comings to God. What does it mean, then, to pray this simple, ancient prayer, “Marana tha!” and what might it have to do with today’s lessons?

Marana tha  is an Arabic phrase that occurs only once in the New Testament (1 Cor.16:22) and is usually not translated. It also appears in the early lirurgical document, the Didache. It can have at least two different meanings: “Come, Lord Jesus” or “Our Lord has come”, though the weight of must scholarship is on the cry and command, “Come, Lord Jesus”.1    

My journey with this word-prayer began a year ago when I attended a workshop given at All Souls Church on paperless music.  We were asked to make up a simple melody that could be easily taught that expressed some aspect of Advent. Here is what I did. I invite you to sing after me:

(Sung):  MARANA THA! MARANA THA!

This experience launched me into an intense time of praying “Come, Lord Jesus!” in many forms, most notably several of the Taize chants we did here at CDSP during Lent last March. One of them went like this:

(Sung): The Kingdom of God is justice and peace

and joy in the Holy Spirit.

Come Lord, and open in us

the gates of your Kingdom.

(Sung): And another: Let all who are thirsty come. 

Let all who wish receive the water of life

freely. Amen, come Lord Jesus.

Amen, come Lord Jesus.

Each chant contains the phrase, “Come, Lord!”. I was surprised how much I wanted to pray this prayer. Not as in former years when I would have been afraid to pray for Jesus to come: too scary; not worthy; not ready, and many more reasons. Yet, now it has become the expression of a deep longing both within me and for our world. 

But enough about me. What about the lessons? Isaiah shows the signs of God’s coming with a word-picture of the desert in full bloom, but also bids the people to be strong, to have courage. God is indeed coming, but maybe not as we would like or expect:

“Be strong; do not fear!

            Here is your God. He will come

with vengeance and terrible recompense.

He will come and save you.”

Only then does he speak of the wonderful healings that will take place: the eyes of the blind opened, the ears of the deaf unstopped... 

And our Gospel lesson? Here is a story that is really of a double-coming. It tells of a paralytic who longed to see Jesus so much that his friends went to wildly creative lengths to bring him right to the center of the crowd, to Jesus’ feet. But--much to the consternation of the Pharisees and the crowd--Jesus also longs to come to him--and not only by his presence. He wanted to heal  the man physically and spiritually. Not just his paralysis of body, but of mind and heart and spirit. And then he asked “Which is easier...?” The Pharisees and the crowd were confused. The man left with greater clarity--forgiven, healed, freed and rejoicing, “glorifying God”. 

We, too, long for Jesus to come; to be in his presence; to be healed both pyisically and spiritually. We do not have to wait long for Jesus to come. In a few minutes we will [receive the Sacrament of Healing]. In a few more minutes we will be invited to receive Jesus as he gives himself in bread and wine. He will come to us and dwell in us and we will become Christ bearers to the world.  

Which brings us back to the question: In this Advent, do we really want Jesus to come? Do we really want to pray, “Marana tha! Come, Lord Jesus”? I wonder what would happen if we tried it, both individually and as a community? What would happen if Jesus really did come into our lives, into our communities, into our world? Then maybe the words of the Psalm would be fulfilled:

I will listen to what the Lord God is saying,*

for he is speaking peace to his faithful people

and to those who turn their hearts to him.

Mercy and truth have met together;

righteousness and peace have kissed each other.

Truth shall spring up from the earth

and righteousness shall look down from heaven.

(Psalm 85: 9-11, BCP)

And Advent will truly be the Season of Comings: God to us and us to God.  

Be strong; do not fear! Here is your God! 

Marana tha! Come, Lord Jesus!”

Sermon for the Feast of Thomas Gallaudet and Henry Winter Syle

"[Jesus] sighed and said to him, 

Ephphatha, that is, 'Be opened.'"

(Mark 7:34)

Thomas Gallaudet and Henry Winter Syle                                                       Jan Robitscher

       Isaiah 35:3-6a                                                                                      St. Mark's Chapel

       Psalm 19:1-6                                                                                        August 27, 2014

       Mark 7:23-27

(Signed 2x)  EPHPHATHA!

(Be opened)

Today we remember Thomas Gallaudet and Henry Winter Syle. While they may not be saints (Beyond the word that describes all of us) in the traditional sense, they certainly were pioneers in the Faith.  But this is not just a history lesson; there are connections, and these are important to our life-in-Christ.

The story actually begins long before Gallaudet and Syle, yet after Jesus healed the deaf man. Roman Catholics count the early seventeenth century bishop Francis de Sales as one of the patron saints of the deaf because he invented a kind of sign language in order to impart the Gospel (and probably his incomparable spiritual direction, too) to a deaf person. 

Fast forward to about 1822 when Thomas Gallaudet was born of a deaf mother and hearing father. After teaching the deaf at what would eventually become Gallaudet University (which his father founded and as was his wish) and marrying Miss Elizabeth Budd, who was deaf, Thomas was ordained in 1851 and established St. Ann's Church in New York, with a special ministry to the deaf.

One of the parishioners there was Henry Winter Syle, who became deaf from scarlet fever at the age of 6. From his archives:

           He became an active religious leader, as a lay reader. He was involved with dr. Thomas 

           Gallaudet's mission for the deaf. He also started studying for Holy Orders while working

           at the U.S. Mint.  He was ordained 1876 by Bishop Stevens of Philadelphia as a deacon

           of the Protestant Episcopal Church.   

           On October 14, 1884, Rev. Henry Winter Syle was ordained to priesthood by Bishop

           William Bacon Stevens at St. Stephen's Church, becoming the first Deaf priest in the

           United States.  He helped to improve the Church Mission to the Deaf in Pennsylvania,

           Delaware and New Jersey.  He also founded All Souls Church in Philadelphia.

            (From <www.gallaudet.edu/archives>

Sadly, Syle died two years later, in 1890. So what? Why do these people matter and what

connection do they have with us? A former Associate Priest of All Soul's Parish here in Berkeley had a personal connection.

Fr. Bill Fay's grandfather taught at Gallaudet and his father grew up on the campus there. Another connection is the ministry to the deaf that took place right here in this chapel, with Fr. Henry Bayne presiding, until about 20 years ago. Fr. Fay and Fr. Bayne have joined Gallaudet and Syle in the Communion of Saints. 

After Henry Winter Syle it would take another hundred years before the Church would ordain another deaf person, Fr. Roger Pickering. I knew of him when I lived in Philadelphia. He, too, had a Berkeley connection.  

           Prior to his moving to Pennsylvania to become Vicar of All Souls Church for the Deaf,

           [Roger Pickering] was the founding Vicar of the Mission of the Holy Spirit Church in

           Berkeley, California.  He was a frequent guest preacher and pastoral counselor in

           numerous other churches including the National Cathedral in Washington, D.C.  While

           most people think of him exclusively as the beloved Vicar of a local church, over the

           course of his life he did far more, often unrecognized.                

           (from <http://www.kearneyasnyderfuneralhome.com/roger-alan-pickering/>

But all these wonderful connections still beg a question: Why was==and is==the Church so fearful of ordaining persons with disabilities? Henry Winter Syle endured fierce opposition from those who believed the tradition that a loss of one of the senses was an impediment to ordination. He was a deacon for eight years before finally fulfilling his call as a priest. Today there are very few deaf clergy and  even fewer who are hearing who can sign.

Isaiah's prophetic words ring out to the Church as much as to those who are deaf or otherwise disabled:

           Strengthen the weak hands

                 and make firm the weak knees.

           Say to those who are of a fearful heart,

                 "Be strong, do not fear! Here is your God. (Isaiah 33:3-4a)

And to the Church and to us all, Jesus says:

            (Signed) EPHPHATHA!  Be opened!