Here is Fr. David's homily from Sunday, November 22nd, the Feast of Christ the King. Your comments, of course, are welcome.

To Have a King

What does it mean,
to have a king?

The very idea –
Isn’t it a bit of a reach too far,
into the mists of time, the long-ago ways
that saw people everywhere
ruled by solitary human beings,
exalted as though they were super human.
Good kings and queens, and bad ones?

Tyrants, and – rarely –
humble stewards of the good of the people.

Rich and regal,
proud and presumptuous,
all powerful in their dominions,
none dare challenge them.

Ordering nations into war,
approving plunder and pillage,
conquering wherever possible,

gathering new lands to expand their kingdoms,
to bring still more wealth, on which to fatten themselves.

What does it mean, to have a king?

Ah, the kings and queens of history . . .

When I say, “King,”
is the immediate association in your mind
a positive one, or negative, or neutral?

It seems, doesn’t it, that the images we retain of kings and queens,
whether from books and movies
or from an actual study of real history,
tend to be . . . negative.

Because we live in a democratic republic,
we Americans are wary of kings.
It’s in the very fibre of our being.
Our own revolution, in 1776,was a rebellion against
the tyrannical rule of King George of England.

Of course, we weren’t against all kings at the time,
as we eagerly accepted the aid of the King of France, for example.
And to this day, our nation’s leaders
routinely engage with and honor kings and queens,
some of whom are merely in ceremonial roles,
but some of whom are still absolute rulers -
the King of Saudi Arabia, the Sultan of Brunei,
the royal family of Bahrain, and many others.

President Obama got in a little hot water last week
for apparently bowing tothe emperor of Japan,
just as he had months ago to the Saudi king.

We have decidedly mixed feelings about kings and queens,
even in our democratic republic of America.

And then there is the church.

From medieval times onward,
Roman Catholic popes and other prelates of the church
were treated as royalty.

Sitting in thrones, wearing heavily jeweled robes and crowns,
ruling with absolute authority in their realms,
expecting, and receiving,
the humble, pious submission of their subjects.

Did you know that the installation of a pope is called
a papal coronation?
The pope is the Monarch of the Holy See,
and Sovereign of Vatican City.

The cardinals are called “Princes of the Church.”

What does it mean, to have a king?


In Jesus’ time,there were kings, of course,
and had been, for all of known history.

Jesus was targeted, as a newborn infant, by King Herod.
He was put to death by Pontius Pilate,
a regional governor appointed by the Emperor, Caesar.


Jesus knew about kings.
Listen to today’s Gospel. Pilate was absolutely fixated
on whether Jesus was claiming to be a king,
and if so, where was his kingdom, exactly?
Was it a rival kingdom,out to undermine,
perhaps to overthrow, the rule of Caesar?

Jesus said, “My kingdom does not belong to this world.”

Claiming his kingship,
but claiming it was a transcendent kingship that he held,
not of this world.

I’ll bet Pilate really understood that.

A transcendent kingship. A kingdom utterly . . . other.

If you try to think of Jesus Christ as a king,
do you have to squirm your way into the notion,

or does it spring freely, rightly, fittingly into your consciousness?

Are we so uncomfortable with the notions of regal rulers,
including rulers of the churches,
that it seems unnatural, even unholy maybe,
to include Jesus in their lot?

Well, but are we really including Jesus alongside Caesar,
and the Saudi kings, and the popes and their princes?

Or are we saying that this Jesus,
our Christ, our Messiah, our Savior,
truly is the king of all creation?

A king in a mold never fitted to any other.

Our music today sings to us the qualities of such a king:

Crown him with many crowns, the lamb upon his throne.
Awake my soul, and sing of him who died for thee,
Who triumph’d oer the grave,
Who on the third day did arise and hope to sinners gave.

This is not the sort of tribute music
that earthly kings and queens have commanded.

Who came eternal life to bring,
Who lives, no more to die.
Throughout the earth his praise resounds
for he is Lord of all.

No, these words speak to our spirits,
of the transcendent reality of Christ, our king.

There is no other,like him.
No place, like his kingdom.

The king of love my shepherd is,
whose goodness fails me never;
I nothing lack if I am his,
and he is mine forever.

Where streams of living water flow
with gentle care he leads me;
and where the verdant pastures grow,
with heavnly food he feeds me.

What does it mean,to have a king?

We have to think . . . so far beyond our world of reckoning,
beyond our messy human history,
beyond the failed reigns of human kings and queens,
beyond the royal trappings of their rule
and the sometimes cruel brunt of their rulings.

We have to imagine, beyond this life, beyond this earth.

And yet at the same time,
at the very same instant,
we can perceive Christ our King
everso real in this life, on this earth,
with us here, and now,
his kingdom already present to us,
in the life of the Spirit,
in the holy reality of the Eucharist,
in what we do together, here,
in our realization of his continuing mission,
in our lives as his disciples.

Oh, yes -

We have a king,

and it means . . . everything.

Amen.

On October 11th, Mother Teri Harroun presided at our Eucharist. It was a wonderful thing to have her with us, so soon after her ordination to priesthood (which was on September 18th). She showed a warm heart, a real love for children - she initiated a "children's blessing," something we may make a very regular part of our liturgy - and she seemed very much at home in the role of priest and presider.

It kind of makes one want to pause. In thousands of Roman Catholic churches throughout the world, Teri could never do this. Attempting to do so would be a regarded as a grievous sin. Yet for us, it was the most natural and normal and right thing to do. Isn't it a curious and, yes, a very sad thing, that the churches which profess to follow Jesus could be so astoundingly divided on the participation of women alongside men?

We don't spend a lot of time in the Ecumenical Catholic Communion patting ourselves on the back for having opened all the sacraments to all God's people. We want the world to know we are open, but we are not prideful. At St. A's last week, we were much more focused on what Mother Teri had to share with us in her fine homily, and in her presence as presider, than in the fact of her gender. It was a wonderful occasion, because we were welcoming another new priest to the ministry founded by Christ. Won't it be all the more wonderful when, one day, the priest's gender wouldn't even be relevant?

Your thoughts?

Time Out for Fr. David

This past Sunday, I shared with our community that I'll be out of commission for a while, beginning Wednesday, September 9th. Some of you know that in recent months I've lost the good use of my right hand. At first we thought I'd had a stroke, but further studies showed the problem is in my cervical spine - a serious narrowing, impinging the spinal cord. So, I'm going to have a cervical spinal fusion. This will be at Boulder Community Hospital, where for years I served as Director of Pastoral Care. My docs are all good friends and former colleagues, and I trust them implicitly. More still, I'm trusting God in this one. I don't like it, and confess to a few worries and scares, but at the end of the proverbial day, it's pretty much in God's hands, isn't it?

So I'll be away for the better part of a month or so, and will be pretty limited when I return. No setting up the tables, for a while. No lifting, no vacuuming the church every Sunday morning. We'll kind of need everyone to pitch in for a while. You'll all do that, won't you? I know you will.

And I'll need your prayers, really will, and for that, in advance, thank you, and I love you all.

Choosing

Choice. What a loaded term in our day. I wonder what it first conjures for you?

Our readings yesterday, August 23rd, framed the notion of choice in the most fundamental way: whether we choose God, or another way. In my homily, I tried to illustrate how our alternative choices sometimes (frequently??) tend to go: for self will; for selfish intentions; for indulgence of anger, or greed, or vengeance; for self-flattery; for casting fate to the winds. Some of our human illusions make it easy to confuse the real choices we are making every day with a "sort of, kind of, faithful way of living." We rationalize that a loving God would never judge us for enjoying a moment of (fill in the blank). We justify ourselves in all sorts of contorted ways, rather than squarely reckon with the fact that we have actually, pretty neatly, chosen a way that goes against our God. We've made new, little gods, which make us feel - what? Better?

Oh, for sure, we often choose the Way, the Gospel path that Christ walked and invited us to walk with him. We choose honesty. We choose reconciliation rather than continued strife; we choose compassion; we are moved to acts of kindness. We listen to one another, and try for patience and understanding. These are choices for God, clear and powerful and full of grace.

The meditation I hope we'll all gravitate to is about the simple realization that in the ways we live out our ordinary lives on every average day, we are really making very powerful choices. And these have lasting effects on our outlook, our dispositions, and our readiness to choose for - or against - God, the next time.

Food for thought.

Sunday's Homily - Bread of Life

Yesterday was the 18th Sunday in Ordinary Time, and the readings were on the “Bread of Life” theme which follows on the previous week’s story of the miraculous feeding of the multitude with a few loaves and fishes. In my homily, I was trying to make connections to a few related thoughts: First, that what seemed true of Jesus’ followers is probably often true of us – that we don’t “get it,” that is, we probably don’t grasp the fullness of the gift, or its meaning or potential for our everyday lives. It’s not merely bread to allay physical hunger. It’s a gift of himself - direct, immediate, absolutely present in our lives. In that sense, it's the original "soul food," containing everything we need for the spiritual journey. Does that resonate with you? Do you get it, you think, or is it tough to get your mind around it?


Another point I tried for is that this gift of his own self comes to us not only in communion – in the consecrated bread and wine. It is surely present there, but also in the Word of God we receive in the Scriptures, the homily, the prayers. And it is present in all of us gathered together, Christ present in us. Each of these aspects is as important and integral as the others. Make sense? What do you think of this?


And finally, I hoped to say to us all: If you’re struggling with faith, with belief, with knowing Christ, it’s ok. We all struggle. Remember, your involvement, your very presence at the table says you are hoping to respond to God, and to hear God’s voice some more. You're in the conversation! Please don’t be hard on yourself, or think you’re just not trying hard enough. “I’m not spiritual enough,” someone said. Nonsense – you’re fine, you’re one of us, you came from God and God is with you. Ask your questions, and become as willing as you can. Belief, and its deeper cousin, faith, will come to us all, each in different ways and at different times. But doubt and struggle are not signs of weakness or failure. What do you think of this idea?


Please, share your comments. And blessings for the day!

The Appreciation of Priests

Here is a posting from parishioner and choir stalwart and all-around good person Sharon Friedman:


Some of you know that I attend an Evening Prayer group composed of people in Clare Choir http://mscchoir.pergamentum.com/. I do that because it is a green pasture for liturgical musicians (asks little but gives much) who like chant, Latin and such like. If you like the internet radio station “choral treasures” you’ll probably like it.

This group had been meeting at Calvary Episcopal in Golden and moved to Spirit of Christ in Arvada for the future. Tonight was our first night there- meets at 6:15 Sundays.. all are welcome!

Anyway, I find that the Director of Clare Choir, Carma’s homilies are often a counterpoint or blend with the homily from Dave or Stan. Tonight our homily was about the “Year of the Priest” and the feastday of St. John Vianney, patron saint of parish priests, on August 4. Now I had not heard of "the year of the priest", since it’s probably an RC thang. She mentioned how we need to let priests know that we appreciate them and give them support, ask them how they are doing, etc. I guess they have two priests there for 2500 families and one of them is ill. My reflections were that in our situation at St. A’s we have 2 for 20-50 individuals. What a blessing!

But I wondered if the fact that they are not full time paid staff of the parish may place them in a situation where we don’t think they need our appreciation and support. I also wonder if perhaps they don’t need it more.. one has another job and one we’re barely paying. I know how blessed I am but I think , well, if I tell Dave it might go to his head.. or I’m too busy… or by the time I want to give feedback on a homily (positive and negative) it is too late, and I figure someone else is doing it. Wow. We have two fantastic priests who don’t get paid very much..I wonder if they know how much they mean to us. We do have a chance to tell them, especially this week. St. John’s feastday is August 4. I think I'll send them a note.

- Sharon Friedman


Thanks to Sharon. Comments, anyone?

The Parish and the Real World

At our Parish Brunch-and-Meet last Sunday, the discussion of parish finances and stewardship stirred a pot of strong feelings and beliefs. At a time when, frankly, we are not able to meet all the financial goals we have set for ourselves (including our charitable giving, compensation for pastor, and other items), does it make any sense whatsoever to even think about taking on other financial commitments (like contributing to the Chapel's upkeep)?

Applying sound and prudent business principles, one would immediately say, "Good God, NO! - Don't take on additional obligations when you haven't figured out how to meet current ones." I suspect no one would disagree with this in consideration of normal family or business finances. Except that this instinctive response, on closer examination, proves faulty. Families and businesses, in fact, quite regularly take on additional obligations. Family examples might include spending for medical expenses, or for unforeseen home repairs, or for emergency travel, or for tithing to one's church. Business examples include costs of expanding the business in a down year ("You must spend money to make money"), capitalizing on unforeseen opportunities requiring up-front investment, or bolstering an underperforming subsidiary.

In all these cases, prudent management often condones deficit spending (and I haven't even mentioned the government!). But there is still a more subtle reason for considering such commitments by a parish community.

One of the tenets of stewardship has been the principle of "sacrificial giving." What this means is that I am called upon to offer support for my community from my substance, rather than from my excess. In other words, I don't wait to see what's left over for the church; I find some prudent way to give from my substance, and this may mean that I have to tighten the belt in other ways. That is, the church becomes a primary, rather than an optional, recipient of my giving.

In a similar way, without violating prudent budgeting and financial management, it is a calling for every church community to think outside the box (pardon the tired cliche) - to go beyond the normal bounds of family or business operations when we envision commitments that are suggested for our consideration. Does the suggested commitment really have a close bearing on our authentic Christian witness, on our sense of identity as a parish? Would its neglect do damage to that authenticity? In other words, if we never make contributions to the needs of our greater community, if we never do charitable giving, hasn't this affected our claim to authenticity as a Gospel community? Would it not be better to begin to actually make such a commitment, thereby forcing ourselves to come to terms with what it requires, rather than simply to say, "We can't afford it now; maybe sometime in the future"?

Making public commitments requires a parish to take a fundamental stance. If it results in interim deficit financing, then the leadership has an obligation to contend with this so as to avoid shortfalls. It is simply not sufficient to avoid the commitments arising out of authentic mission on the grounds of financial wherewithal. Making the commitment will tend to generate the wherewithal.

Some will dismiss this reasoning as irresponsible, and others will decry its lack of "real world" awareness. But some may find value in a sort of ongoing, forced reckoning with the implications of Christian witness. At a certain point, perhaps we become more conditioned to replace "either/or" thinking with a "both/and" stance. What do you think?