Finding our Home in God

A Sermon preached
on April 13, 2008 by the Reverend Peter De Franco,
Interim Rector of St. Peter’s Episcopal Church, Clifton, New Jersey

My mother attended school in the days when class would begin with a reading from the Bible. That bible was always the King James Version. Even though she was a Roman Catholic, she would occasionally go with her girlfriends to attend their church services. I don’t think that her priests would approve stepping into the pasture of another church, but with that wisdom that believers have she knew that God is one and we all worship that one God.
Through the bible readings and her Sunday afternoon trips to the protestant church, she learned the 23rd Psalm. I think it is her favorite prayer. I think of her whenever we come to this fourth Sunday of Easter which is called Good Shepherd Sunday and we usually pray Psalm 23.

I am sure that while many of you read the words of that psalm from our Book of Common Prayer in your head and perhaps even on your lips formed the words of the King James Version.
The Lord is my shepherd; *
I shall not want.
He maketh me to lie down in green pastures; *
he leadeth me beside the still waters.
He restoreth my soul; *
he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his
Name’s sake.
Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil; *
for thou art with me;
thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.
Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of
mine enemies; *
thou anointest my head with oil;
my cup runneth over.
Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days
of my life, *
and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

We all love this psalm. I think one of the reasons we love this psalm so much is the accumulation of images from this psalm brings our hearts great comfort.

Many of the psalms present God as a Warrior who battles for the people, as a King who rules over them with Justice, as a Judge who brings a fair ruling to the people. A recent commentator on the bible called these the psalms of Homeland Security. Secure the borders, summon the army, bring the villians to court.

Psalm 23 takes an alternate approach. In this Psalm, God comes as a shepherd. If you hear this psalm with the ear of your heart, you will find yourself surrounded by feelings of great comfort: Not being in want, finding sufficient food and drink, protected against enemies, enjoying a rich banquet where perfumed oils scent the hall, and your cup is never empty. Those feelings of security come together in the final sentence: And I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever.

If you had to find a word of comfort to summarize all those feelings, I think that word would be home. Even if our childhood memories of home left something to be desired, there is a longing in our hearts to find and to build a perfect home. There is something deep inside us that yearns for that place of abundance, of warmth, of protection, of assurance. If we were to put a name on that home of our heart’s longing, we would call that home God.
In God’s home we are free of want. Let’s remember that this psalm was written by a person who lived in ancient Israel. In a country where the pastures were green only two months of the year, God leads us to perpetually green pastures. In a land where flowing waters could sweep away the sheep, our shepherd brings us to still waters so we can both drink from the waters and even cross them in safety.

Like every good prayer, this psalm enlists not only our trust in God, we are invited to place our trust in God especially in the midst of the most difficult crises of our lives. No crisis can be more difficult for us than death. The thought of our own death or the death of those near and dear to us strikes terror into our hearts. Our souls are crushed whenever we have to endure the death of a member of our family, our parish, our neighborhood or our city. Yet whenever I walk with someone through that valley of the shadow of death, I always say Psalm 23.

I think of my mother who spent the night alone on the day my father died. I wonder what comfort my mother drew from psalm 23 in the night she first heard of my father’s death and mourned the loss of her husband. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death I fear no evil. Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me.
I fear no evil, even in the face of the greatest evil. For the rod which Jesus, our good shepherd carries, is none other than his cross. The cross on which he walked through the valley of the shadow of death. That cross gives us comfort for on that cross Jesus has destroyed both death and fear. He has first gone into that dark and deadly valley and come through with the light of resurrection, of new life, of life in that place where the pastures are always green, where the waters are still, where food is abundant, where faith displaces fear, where want is replaced by plenty.

God creates for us a new home. That home is God. A home where we know that the final victory is on the side of life, even if we walk in the valley of the shadow of death. A home where we can be assured of a meal, a banquet in the sight of those whom we fear. A home we enter through the door who is Jesus. Through that door, all can enter. Through that door, all can find a safe haven. Through that door, all can experience the home their hearts desire.

So listen this day, listen carefully to your heart, and in the depths of your heart, if you listen carefully enough, you will hear the voice of our good shepherd calling us into the sheepfold, calling us home.

Moko and the Whales

An Easter Sermon for Children
Preached by the Reverend Peter De Franco at
St. Peter’s Episcopal Church, Clifton, New Jersey
Easter 2008

On the other side of the world on an island country named New Zealand, a park ranger was patrolling the beach. He would check this beach every day since it was the time of year when whales would sometimes get confused and beach themselves on the sand. The whales would just swim into the shallow water until they swam out of the water and were laying on the sand. This bright sunny morning, the park ranger turned on the beach and he saw the sight he was terrified of seeing: A mother pygmy sperm whale and her baby were stranded on the beach. It was an emergency.

Pygmy sperm whale are not the largest whales. The mother was about 10 feet and the baby was 7 feet. But they were in serious danger. The people had to get the whales back into the water. There was no time to lose. The park ranger called for help and other park rangers and other people came to the beach. They all worked very hard to move the whales. After an hour and a half, both the people and the whales were totally exhausted. Four times they got the whales back into the water. But the whales stranded themselves on a sand bar off the beach. Unless the ranger could get the whales back into the deep water, he would have to kill the whales to spare them from a slow and agonizing death.

Then suddenly, Moko appeared. Moko is a bottlenosed dolphin who would swim along that part of the beach. Many people knew Moko since Moko likes to play with people in the water. Mako is a dolphin most of us would love to meet. When Moko saw the stranded whales, Moko knew that the whales were in trouble. Moko started to talk to them. Dolphins have their own language and Moko was speaking it to the pygmy sperm whales. Strangely, the two whales started to talk to Moko.
Moko swam up the whales and when the human pushed the whales out into the sea, Moko directed them to swim past the sand bar and into the deep water. The park ranger and the other people saw Moko direct the mother whale and her child into the safety in the deep ocean waters.

Today we saw another story about someone calling out someone’s name. Mary was in the garden and she was totally sad. I wonder why she was sad? (Children: She was sad because Jesus had died.) Suddenly Jesus came to her. But she did not recognize. That is something that we can learn about Jesus after he was raised from the dead. You just don’t know when he will appear to you. She thought that Jesus was the gardener. But then he called out her name: Mary. And something in her heart stirred. She knew the voice of her Jesus.
Jesus calls us too. Not in a voice that we can hear with our ears. But in a still silent voice in our hearts. Jesus lets you know that he loves you. No matter what happens to us, no matter the things that we do, or the things that we see, we can know one thing for sure: Jesus loves me. Jesus ALWAYS loves us. Can you say that with me: Jesus Loves Me. I cannot hear you. Jesus Loves Me. One more time. Jesus Loves Me.

Today, you will renew the promises you made when you were baptized. You will tell Jesus that you will be his hands, his feet and his heart in the world. You will promise that you will pray, that you will help other people, that you will treat everyone fairly and with love. We will then sprinkle you with water to remind you of the water that we poured on you when you were baptized. When you feel that water, know that it is a sign that Jesus loves you. When you taste the host and drink from the chalice, know that it is a sign of what? Jesus loves me.
God bless you with a blessed Easter!

Three Ways to Meet the Risen Christ

The Three Ways to Meet The Risen Christ
A Sermon Preached by the Reverend Peter De Franco at St. Peter’s Episcopal Church, Clifton, New Jersey
Easter Sunday, 2008

Dark was that Easter morning when Mary Magdalene woke from sleep to hasten to the tomb of Jesus. Any of us who have lost a loved one know that feeling. After the funeral and burial, the grave becomes the new kitchen table where we sit with him and share morning coffee, the tombstone become the couch we sit on and talk about the problem child who just cannot adjust, the lawn of the cemetery the garden we share in the evening twilight and just know again each other’s love. Mary went to the tomb to find such comfort in being close to the body of Jesus. She dare not imagine the possibility of Resurrection. Hers was the simple hope of sitting on the other side of the stone that she might be close to the body of her beloved Jesus. On that dark morning, her heart lead her to the one she loved.

As she drew near to the tomb to pour out her grief at Jesus’ grave, did her eyes believe what they saw? Imagine her horror as she makes her way to the entrance of the tomb to find that the stone had been removed. She runs, says the Gospel, not walks, she runs to find Peter and the disciple Jesus loved. She runs to report that “they have taken the Lord out of the tomb and we don’t know where they have laid him.” The three of them then race back, Mary, Peter and the Beloved Disciple and each has a different experience at the grave. Each of them represents three types of faith when confronted with the empty tomb. Mary is the disciple of Love. The Beloved Disciple is the follower in Faith. Peter is the Disciple of hope.

When the Beloved Disciple gets to the tomb, he does not enter. He waits for Peter to arrive. Then the two of them enter the tomb. The place is a shambles, much like their confused souls. The linen wrappings were lying there and the cloth that wrapped Jesus face is rolled up in a place apart. The forsaken burial cloths might remind you of the abandoned cocoon from which Jesus, the butterfly, has emerged from this life to the new transformed life of the resurrection. The Beloved Disciple sees and believes. He sees the empty tomb and believes. He needs no further evidence, no appearance, no lunch with the risen Christ on the beach. The empty tomb is enough.

There are some of you like that first disciple. You are the ones who live your life by faith and not by sight. You have given your hearts to God and experience that God coming to you, walking with you. You might not always feel that presence but you know that presence as sure as you know your very selves. You are the disciples of faith.

Mary is the second disciple. The disciple of love. While the male disciples cowered in fear, terrified that the authorities will give them the same treatment they gave to Jesus, Mary shows the love that casts out fear. She stayed with Jesus when he died on the cross. She hastens to the tomb in the dark of that Easter morning. She is the one to whom the Lord appears on that first Easter day. Jesus comes to her for Christ knows that the heart who loves him will be the heart that sees him.

Many of you here are like Mary. Many of you approach Jesus by the way of love. Perhaps some of you are like Mary. Your lives might be a bundle of trouble and grief. You bring your burden to Jesus. You approach with love for you know that Jesus will heal them with love. You know that Jesus will come to you, will dawn in your hearts. You know that love brings your heart to God and opens the eyes of your soul to the vision of God. You are like Mary, the disciple of love.

Finally there is Peter, the disciple of hope. Peter comes from Missouri. He sees the empty tomb, he beholds the shroud that covered the body of Jesus, and he lays eyes on the linen cloth that covered the face of Jesus. These are all meaningless pieces of a puzzle that just do not fit together. Peter goes from the tomb as confused as when he came to it. At the greatest moment in Christian history, on the morning of the resurrection, he does not understand. The Gospel says that “He returns to his home.” He does not yet understand the scripture that Jesus must rise from the dead.

Peter is like many of you. A disciple of hope. Like Peter, you do not yet fully understand. But you trust that Jesus will come through for you. It is just not now. Yet you will receive just as Peter received. For Peter will see Jesus. Jesus will come to Peter with the promise of forgiveness for his denials and with the commission to go and care for the flock of Jesus. Many of you are like Peter, a disciple of hope. You wait in expectation for the promise of Jesus to be fulfilled.

Some of you may find yourself as disciples of faith or of love or of hope. I somehow think that there is a part of Peter, a part of Mary and a part of the beloved disciple in each of us. Each of us comes this day to this great Easter mystery with something in our hearts of faith and love and hope. Each of us returns from this mystery with a deeper experience of the Risen Christ.
As we move ahead with the renewal of our Baptismal Covenant and the Eucharist of Easter Morning, may your hearts be expanded to know Christ’s presence in your souls and your lives reflect that love toward all whom you meet. May you know Easter Peace!

The Doubting Thomas in Each of Us

A Sermon Preached by the Reverend Peter De Franco
At St. Peter’s Episcopal Church, Clifton, New Jersey
March 30, 2008

Every year, after all the hoopla of Easter, every year we gather again on this day called Low Sunday to contrast it to the High Celebrations on Easter Day. We hear on this Sunday after Easter the most comforting Gospel for many of us – the story of Doubting Thomas. This morning I would like to share with you some stories about doubters.

The first story comes from my best friend in grammer school. I will call him Tony. Tony had a terribly scared face. Some childhood circulatory disease of childhood cut off blood to his extremities and left his face horribly scared. You would have thought that he was terribly burned the scars so disfigured him. But somehow, in the way that children understand reality, I did not compare him with the rest of my friends but only thought that this was the way Tony would look. He was my friend so it was all fine.

His mother marveled that his friends only saw the person and not the scars. For her, Tony was terribly disfigured and she was terribly angry. Angry with those countless trips to the hospital for plastic surgeries. Angry that her hope of a normal life was upset by this child. But mostly angry with God that God would allow such a terrible thing to distort her life and make of her beloved baby a disfigured angel. That anger with God led her to lose her faith.
She could not imagine a God who would allow such a disaster to befall her baby.
She is the first type of Thomas. She is the Thomas whose faith is lost when they experience some life changing tragedy and assume that the only God who exists is one who creates a perfect world, not the real world where health is not guaranteed, where fortune is not assured, where stability cannot always endure.

When I was going to seminary, one weekend we visited a couple whom we had known for a long time. One of the women grew up in a neighborhood not unlike my own, with a devout Italian mother who insisted that she go to Roman Catholic School and made her First Communion and Confirmation. As an adult she created a phenomenal career for herself climbing up the ladder in a large and prestigious corporation until she reached the summit of her department. We all praised her intelligence and political savy in negotiating the corporate structures.
That night at dinner, she said that she was an atheist. I congradulated her on taking a positive step in her religious development. For as we were talking about her understanding of God, I realized that, for all her adult understanding of the business world, she still clung to a child’s understanding of the divine world. God for her was the old man in the sky, a distant father figure with whom she could not longer relate. She too lost her faith. But this faith was best left behind. She outgrew the faith that sustained her as a child but did not discover the faith that would sustain her as an adult. She too was a doubting Thomas. The Thomas who doubts because faith has seen a better day.

Doubt is as vital a part of your spiritual journey as is faith. Many of us think that something is wrong with us when we experience doubts in our spiritual path. Doubts arise in our hearts for a variety of reasons. Doubts come when we are faced with a tragedy that overwhealms us. It could be the loss of health, someone we love dies, a financial crisis takes away our security, the evil that exists in the world touches us and we cannot bear its presence. Doubts arise in our mind when the ideas we have about God no longer work for us. When we are moving from our childhood idea of God to an adult idea, we are caught in the middle when we have no viable idea of God. Doubts arise in our minds when any idea of God does not satisfy our mind. When the encounter with the living God robs us of any adequate image that would embrace the living God.

When doubts arise in our hearts, the first impulse is to leave. We sense that the church is the place where believers gather and we find ourselves in a place in which we do not fit. If only we could understand that we are moving from faith to faith, that our minds and hearts are on an interior journey to deeper faith and sometimes we are caught in the middle. When we are in the middle, we can rely on the community to support us in the transition.
When we collectively profession our faith week by week, we affirm that faith as a community so that if we feel that we cannot make that profession with a full heart, we can rely on the others in the community to make that profession with us and for us. The journey of faith is a lifelong journey. I think that Jesus invites Thomas to put his finger into the nail mark in his hand and into the spear slash of his side as in invitation to join in the pain of transformation into new life.

Jesus invites you into that transformation of faith. Put your finger this day into his hand and know that presence in your heart of the one who never abandons faith in you.