Quiet October Sermons
I am not preaching at all in October. I say that not to gloat, but to let people know, all one half of the people who see this blog, that I haven't disappeared, I just haven't had the content floating in my head I usually have. My next sermon will be the first Sunday in November when we celebrate All Saints, not the actual day, but rather the Sunday after All Saints.
The Gospel for the day is the Beatitudes from the Gospel of Luke. Luke is particularly different from Matthew in that he simply says: Blessed are the poor. Blessed are the hungry. Blessed are the so and so. And Luke complicates slightly by also adding "now". Matthew seems to add the caveat, "poor in spirit". Today, that is not where I am going to go, but know that as is the case every All Saints Day, this difference is alive in my thoughts and prayers as I reflect on the Scripture.
I was reading an old article about All Saints Day written by a fellow clergy type talking about All Saints Day and how they celebrate it in the parish they lead. They wrote:
"Perhaps begin by asking your people: which beatitude feels like sainthood, and which feels like indictment? Let them sit with the discomfort, then invite stories of those who have lived close to the edges. The woman who couldn't buy a bag of groceries, so emptied her own cupboards to give to a refugee family. The teen who kept showing up at the hospital bed of their grandparent who was dying. Saints are recognized in simple things like casseroles and carpools more than in stained glass.
Close your sermon with a communal practice: everyone names one living “saint” they’ll thank this week, write the note, make the call, deliver the pie. Beatitude becomes beatification when we bless each other into memory.
I really like this, and since no one reads this blog, I might use something similar in my sermon. But if you find yourself reading this post, what stories from living on the edge, or in the midst of thin places do you have to share? What have you done, or what has been done to you? As Nancy talked about this past Sunday, how do we SEE one another?
Be well,
Aron
The Gospel for the day is the Beatitudes from the Gospel of Luke. Luke is particularly different from Matthew in that he simply says: Blessed are the poor. Blessed are the hungry. Blessed are the so and so. And Luke complicates slightly by also adding "now". Matthew seems to add the caveat, "poor in spirit". Today, that is not where I am going to go, but know that as is the case every All Saints Day, this difference is alive in my thoughts and prayers as I reflect on the Scripture.
I was reading an old article about All Saints Day written by a fellow clergy type talking about All Saints Day and how they celebrate it in the parish they lead. They wrote:
"Perhaps begin by asking your people: which beatitude feels like sainthood, and which feels like indictment? Let them sit with the discomfort, then invite stories of those who have lived close to the edges. The woman who couldn't buy a bag of groceries, so emptied her own cupboards to give to a refugee family. The teen who kept showing up at the hospital bed of their grandparent who was dying. Saints are recognized in simple things like casseroles and carpools more than in stained glass.
Close your sermon with a communal practice: everyone names one living “saint” they’ll thank this week, write the note, make the call, deliver the pie. Beatitude becomes beatification when we bless each other into memory.
I really like this, and since no one reads this blog, I might use something similar in my sermon. But if you find yourself reading this post, what stories from living on the edge, or in the midst of thin places do you have to share? What have you done, or what has been done to you? As Nancy talked about this past Sunday, how do we SEE one another?
Be well,
Aron
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