Sunday I preached at all three services at St. Matthew's, Hillsborough. It went very well. I realize now that my nervousness about writing the sermon was not because of stage fright--I mean, I was more afraid of not getting the processional choreography right--it was my fear of not conveying the message of the gospel well. (Okay, and it was really, really important to have a good first sermon at a church I love so much.) A nerdy reason for my fear, indeed! But everything went really well, and I think the Divine showed up.
But the feeling of exhileration regarding Sunday was not about my capability to sermonize, affirming as it was. My feeling happened because of the presence of the holy, mysterious love that I encountered at the Eucharist. I don't know exactly what it was, but there was something amazing and colossal about serving each individual--about watching each person's reflection in the chalice as they made their personal encounter with Christ--about seeing how each individual has their own interesting or quirky way of taking communion--and about somehow being a part of all of it. I can only describe it as the same feeling of wonder I felt when I was in the delivery room as my friend gave birth to her son. It was that kind of mysterious to me--that kind of inspiration in my heart. Yesterday I mentioned it to someone whom I look up to very much, and she said that this feeling probably will not happen every time Eucharist does, but my prayer is that I and we as a church can continue to be aware of the holy mystery that is offered weekly (monthly, annually, for some).
I leave you all with my opinion for the night...Whoever says that the Holy Spirit does not exist in institutions like the Episcopal Church has yet to darken its doors.
But the feeling of exhileration regarding Sunday was not about my capability to sermonize, affirming as it was. My feeling happened because of the presence of the holy, mysterious love that I encountered at the Eucharist. I don't know exactly what it was, but there was something amazing and colossal about serving each individual--about watching each person's reflection in the chalice as they made their personal encounter with Christ--about seeing how each individual has their own interesting or quirky way of taking communion--and about somehow being a part of all of it. I can only describe it as the same feeling of wonder I felt when I was in the delivery room as my friend gave birth to her son. It was that kind of mysterious to me--that kind of inspiration in my heart. Yesterday I mentioned it to someone whom I look up to very much, and she said that this feeling probably will not happen every time Eucharist does, but my prayer is that I and we as a church can continue to be aware of the holy mystery that is offered weekly (monthly, annually, for some).
I leave you all with my opinion for the night...Whoever says that the Holy Spirit does not exist in institutions like the Episcopal Church has yet to darken its doors.
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