September 12, 2010
Dedication Sunday
Genesis 28.10-17; 1 Peter 2.1-5, 9-10
+ Today, of course, is Dedication Sunday. Last Sunday I joked about the fact that Fall Start-Up is almost like a liturgical season in and of its self—like Advent or Lent. I think I joked that we should think about a new liturgical color for Fall—some of the suggestions being gold or brown and orange. For some people, this “Fall Start-Up time” in the church is be a bad thing. But I think it’s good to take some time in the middle of this long, green season of Pentecost and refocus ourselves a bit. And that’s what we’re doing today. We’re re-focusing. And, in doing so, we are not only looking forward—to a new Fall season, but we are also looking back as well—to our very beginning at St. Stephen’s.
Most of us know by now that the first Eucharist celebrated by the St. Stephen’s congregation occurred on September 9, 1956, at the El Zagal Clubhouse. (I will not at this time go into my own personal opinions about Masons) What you might not know is that St. Stephen’s actually existed long before that—but in a different place not that far away. St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church in Casselton, which was consecrated on August 29, 1881, was closed in early 1956. That church building in Casselton is still standing. It is the beautiful field stone building standing right next to St. Leo’s Catholic Church right on the main street in Casselton. The church building later hosted the Mennonites, and is, at present, I believe, a museum.
Many of the furnishings within our church came from that original congregation. The candle stands on the altar, for example. They are inscribed to the memory of a person name Mattie L. Batton, who died in 1901. Or the processional cross, which was given in memory of Alice Martha Cotant. Or the large offering plate, which was given in memory of Anna Laura McCracken, who was born in 1875 and died in 1957. Half of the pews and the light fixtures all came from that original church building as well. The cross that stood above the altar in that church is now on the altar of our Children’s Chapel, and it was dedicated to none other than George W. Cass—that’s right of Cass County fame—who was born in 1810 and died in 1888. And , most interesting for me anyway, is the inscription on the missal stand (which I did not come from Casselton but was one of the first items given specifically for this congregation:.
In gratitude for safety of
Linda Johnson
in June 20, 1957, tornado
- Grandparents
Mr & Mrs. C.N. Frye.
So, our St. Stephen’s Church incorporates many generations of people. When we gather here together, we do so knowing that we are a part of something much bigger than ourselves, much bigger than the gathering of people who come together here for Mass on Sunday mornings or Wednesday nights. But what is wonderful is that, even after all these years and changes, even after the many, many people who have sat here in these pews, we are still gathering, we are still growing, we are still being a vital presence in the larger Church, the community and the world. And we are still serving Christ. That’s what the Church should be.
But sometimes we forget what the Church should be. For those of us who have been hurt by the Church, we can easily see it in its worst light. We can see it as a fussy, nit-picky group of legalistic people who are only concerned about observing the littlest dash of the law. Or, even worse, some of us have been on the receiving end of some of the more hypocritical members of the Church. And sadly, enough, we must accept that is part of the legacy of the Church as a whole. But the Church is also much more than that.
And we, at St. Stephen’s, have done a good job I think over its 54 years of striving to be a positive example of the wider Church and of service to Christ who, according to Peter’s letter this morning, truly is a “living stone”—the solid foundation form which we grow.
One of my favorite definitions of the Church comes from theologian Robert McAffie Brown. Actually, this quote is his description of the meaning for life, but I think it is also a wonderful description of the ideal toward which we are working as the Church. Brown writes that it is “our task to create a foretaste of [the Kingdom of God] on this planet—living glimpses of what life is meant to be, which include art and music and poetry and shared laughter…and politics and moral outrage and special privileges for children only and wonder and humor and endless love.”
What better goal to work for? When we think and pray and meditate on Brown’s definition, I think we can say that we are doing most of these things here at St. Stephen’s. There are no boundaries for a church that strives to do those things.
On our website we describe ourselves this way. Under “Who we are” we find that
St. Stephen's is a small congregation committed to the ministry of all the baptized with a focus on ministries of social justice.
Dedication Sunday
Genesis 28.10-17; 1 Peter 2.1-5, 9-10
+ Today, of course, is Dedication Sunday. Last Sunday I joked about the fact that Fall Start-Up is almost like a liturgical season in and of its self—like Advent or Lent. I think I joked that we should think about a new liturgical color for Fall—some of the suggestions being gold or brown and orange. For some people, this “Fall Start-Up time” in the church is be a bad thing. But I think it’s good to take some time in the middle of this long, green season of Pentecost and refocus ourselves a bit. And that’s what we’re doing today. We’re re-focusing. And, in doing so, we are not only looking forward—to a new Fall season, but we are also looking back as well—to our very beginning at St. Stephen’s.
Most of us know by now that the first Eucharist celebrated by the St. Stephen’s congregation occurred on September 9, 1956, at the El Zagal Clubhouse. (I will not at this time go into my own personal opinions about Masons) What you might not know is that St. Stephen’s actually existed long before that—but in a different place not that far away. St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church in Casselton, which was consecrated on August 29, 1881, was closed in early 1956. That church building in Casselton is still standing. It is the beautiful field stone building standing right next to St. Leo’s Catholic Church right on the main street in Casselton. The church building later hosted the Mennonites, and is, at present, I believe, a museum.
Many of the furnishings within our church came from that original congregation. The candle stands on the altar, for example. They are inscribed to the memory of a person name Mattie L. Batton, who died in 1901. Or the processional cross, which was given in memory of Alice Martha Cotant. Or the large offering plate, which was given in memory of Anna Laura McCracken, who was born in 1875 and died in 1957. Half of the pews and the light fixtures all came from that original church building as well. The cross that stood above the altar in that church is now on the altar of our Children’s Chapel, and it was dedicated to none other than George W. Cass—that’s right of Cass County fame—who was born in 1810 and died in 1888. And , most interesting for me anyway, is the inscription on the missal stand (which I did not come from Casselton but was one of the first items given specifically for this congregation:.
In gratitude for safety of
Linda Johnson
in June 20, 1957, tornado
- Grandparents
Mr & Mrs. C.N. Frye.
So, our St. Stephen’s Church incorporates many generations of people. When we gather here together, we do so knowing that we are a part of something much bigger than ourselves, much bigger than the gathering of people who come together here for Mass on Sunday mornings or Wednesday nights. But what is wonderful is that, even after all these years and changes, even after the many, many people who have sat here in these pews, we are still gathering, we are still growing, we are still being a vital presence in the larger Church, the community and the world. And we are still serving Christ. That’s what the Church should be.
But sometimes we forget what the Church should be. For those of us who have been hurt by the Church, we can easily see it in its worst light. We can see it as a fussy, nit-picky group of legalistic people who are only concerned about observing the littlest dash of the law. Or, even worse, some of us have been on the receiving end of some of the more hypocritical members of the Church. And sadly, enough, we must accept that is part of the legacy of the Church as a whole. But the Church is also much more than that.
And we, at St. Stephen’s, have done a good job I think over its 54 years of striving to be a positive example of the wider Church and of service to Christ who, according to Peter’s letter this morning, truly is a “living stone”—the solid foundation form which we grow.
One of my favorite definitions of the Church comes from theologian Robert McAffie Brown. Actually, this quote is his description of the meaning for life, but I think it is also a wonderful description of the ideal toward which we are working as the Church. Brown writes that it is “our task to create a foretaste of [the Kingdom of God] on this planet—living glimpses of what life is meant to be, which include art and music and poetry and shared laughter…and politics and moral outrage and special privileges for children only and wonder and humor and endless love.”
What better goal to work for? When we think and pray and meditate on Brown’s definition, I think we can say that we are doing most of these things here at St. Stephen’s. There are no boundaries for a church that strives to do those things.
On our website we describe ourselves this way. Under “Who we are” we find that
St. Stephen's is a small congregation committed to the ministry of all the baptized with a focus on ministries of social justice.
Now just one asside here. As you have heard me say before, I am not fond of calling oursleves ”small.” I always make the challenge when I hear ourselves described this way: “small by whose standards?” We are a small congregation numerically when compared to other congregations in this city. But we are, despite that kind of smallness, so big in other ways. My fear is that “small” limits us. When we identify oursleves as small, we fall into a “small” mindset that can be stifling and we need to be very careful of that. But I digress (as I often do)…
The description from our website goes on:
We are involved in a number of outreach ministries and in several ecumenical partnerships. Members are actively involved in diocesan as well as congregational life. We have a history of strong lay leadership, a sense of independence and a vision for the future. Our corporate life is grounded in the Eucharist and the use of both the Book of Common Prayer and contemporary liturgies enhanced by a variety of music. We welcome all those with whom we can share the transforming influence of a Gospel of love and inclusiveness.
In a sense, this is very good blending of Brown’s description and what we do here at St. Stephen’s. St. Stephen’s is making a difference.
As you know I attend a lot of Diocesan meetings (as others do as well form St. Stephen’s). And I can tell you, people “out there” in the wider diocese are talking about St. Stephen’s and they are noticing what we are doing. People at other Episcopal churches (and at other denominations as well) in this very community are talking about the wonderful things being done here at St. Stephen’s and the growth and vitality that we have here. And those are things we should truly rejoice in on the anniversary of our Dedication.
In our reading from Genesis today, we hear that wonderful story of Jacob. Jacob has encountered God and has heard these amazing words from God: “Know that I am with you and will keep you wherever you go, and will bring you back to this land; for I will not leave you until I have done what I have promised you.” Jacob, in awe, exclaims: “Surely the LORD is in this place—and I did not know it!” He then goes on to say: “How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.”
As we look around, we too realize that the Lord truly is in this place. We too are able to exclaim, How awesome is this place! This is none other than the house of God and this is the gate of heaven. And by “this place” I don’t mean just this building. After all—God is truly here, with us, in all that we do together. The gate of heaven can be found in the ministries we do here. In the outreach we do. In the witness we make in the community and the wider Church.
God is here, with us. God is working through us and in us. Sometimes, when we are in the midst of it all, when we are doing the work, we sometimes miss that perspective. We miss that sense of holiness and renewal and life that comes bubbling up from a healthy and vital congregation working together. We miss the fact that God truly is here. So, it is good to stop and listen for a moment. It is good to reorient ourselves. It is good to refocus and see what ways we can move forward together. It is good to look around and see how God is working through us.
In a few moments, Laura and I will recognize and gives thanks for the many ministries of this church. There may be some we have forgotten to recognize. Rather than that being such a terrible thing (and I do apologize greatly in advance if that happens), it also means that because we, in this supposedly “small” place are doing such a variety of ministries it is hard to keep straight everything that is happening. And many ministries often go on clandestinely. They go on behind the scenes, in ways most of us (with exception of God) don’t even see and recognize.
But that is how God works as well. God works oftentimes clandestinely, through us and around us. And for all of this we are truly thankful. God is in this place. This is the house of God. This is the gate of heaven.
Let us, as we heard this morning in Peter’s letter, rejoice. Let us truly be God’s own people, in order that we might proclaim the mighty acts of Christ, the living stone, who has called us “out darkness into his marvelous light.”
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