As I was thinking last week about our readings for today, the first Sunday in Lent, my thoughts kept returning to a period in my life about fifteen years ago, I think, when I would make frequent trips to my hometown to check on my parents well being, a routine not unfamiliar to some of you, I suspect…

He became a child so that you could become a full mature human being. He was wrapped in swaddling clothes so that you could be unraveled from the meshes of death. He came on the earth so that you could live beneath the stars. There was no place for him in the inn so that there could be many dwelling places for you in heaven. He was rich but he became poor for us. His poverty is our riches and his weakness is our strength. He is poor for us but in himself he is rich. You can see him lying there in swaddling clothes but what you cannot see is that he is God’s son…

The words of the prophet Isaiah in today’s Old Testament lesson are especially fitting as we enter the season of Advent. The season of watching and waiting. A season of anticipation and expectation. For they speak of the future in a way that not only expresses our deepest longings but also offers a glimpse of what it might be like if those longings were actually realized. “They shall beat their swords into plowshares and their spears into pruning hooks. Nations shall not lift up sword against nation. Neither shall they learn war any more…”

According to my count, by the time we reach the benediction this morniing, we will have heard or said or sung the word “faith” nine times. Not to mention professing our faith what we believe as Christians in the words of the Nicene Creed. I actually expected the number to be larger. After all, we are people of faith. We are members of a faith community, seeking to live faithfully in this world. Regardless of whether we use the word faith, the language of faith fills our worship and forms our thinking and shapes our lives…

Yesterday morning as I skimmed the New York Times, online of course, and sipped my coffee, I happened upon a piece by one of my favorite columnists, Bob Herbert. It was titled, “Tweet Less, Kiss More.” Although I will probably be the last tweeter on earth, I thought it would be worth my while to read on, and I was not disappointed…

This past July, I had an experience I will never forget. My daughter Rebecca and I had a chance to go, just the two of us, to the Kennedy Space center in Florida. We went there for about four full days. We saw everything you could possibly see at the Kennedy Space Center; we went on every tour you could go on. There are a couple of experiences from that trip I would like to share with you tonight…

My homily this morning has two interrelated and somewhat overlapping components: a teaching component and a preaching component. Since today is the last Sunday of the liturgical year, I want to begin my message by saying a few words about the church calendar…

Hebrews 2.6-8
But someone has testified somewhere, “What are human beings that you are mindful of them, mortals that you care for them? You have made them for a little while lower than the angels. You have crowned them with glory and honor, subjecting all things under their feet.” So writes the author of today’s epistle…

In the small town where I was raised, it is common practice for the mayor to be elected from among the well known business and professional people, mainly men, often men who were in retirement. People like the former head coach of the high school football team, or the owner of the only Ford dealership in town…

In addition to being the third Sunday after Pentecost in the church’s calendar, today has several other distinctions, all of which are worthy of some attention and perhaps of celebration…