Viewing entries by
The Rev'd Ann Broomell
The Rev’d Ann Broomell
Christ Church, New Haven, Conn.
The Fourth Sunday of Easter
May 12, 2019
In this sermon priest affiliate the Rev’d Ann Broomell reflects on the love of Jesus the Good Shepherd for us—and invites us to love and serve God and one another.
We come today to the memorable story of the widow of Zarephath from the beginning of Elijah’s ministry. Elijah prophecies a drought will come upon the land of King Ahab. Immediately God sends him into the desert wilderness, by a stream, the Wadi Cherith, to be fed bread and meat morning and night by ravens and to find water in the wadi. His prophecy was fulfilled, the wadi dried up and there was no rain in the land
I wonder if you’ve seen the film Babette’s Feast. Babette comes mysteriously and humbly to live with community in the Jutland in Denmark. She is employed as a servant. She has come from Paris and is a wonderful cook, yet all the people want is coarse bread and fish. The people are gruff and unkind and soon we see that they harbor long held hurts and animosities.
On Pentecost Sunday I have often preached of an experience I had at a relatively young age sailing with my family on Long Island Sound. My parents loved to sail. My father, a Quaker, no doubt found the hours he spent in silence at the tiller guiding our boat over the waves a time of peace and refreshment. When I was about 10 I began taking the tiller. Some days the wind would be stiff and we would heel over and cut through the waves. Other days were calm—meaning little or no wind. On those days we were hot and often bored.
There is a Victorian-era church in England, where, in the midst of billowing clouds painted on the flat surface of the ceiling, plaster feet meant to be those of Jesus visibly hang down. Today we smile at the image. The possibility that Jesus moved vertically into the sky, to be seated at the right hand of God, isn’t made more real by our exploration of outer space. The image has moved from belief to metaphor, or, perhaps, was always meant to be metaphor.
If I were to ask all of you gathered here today to raise your hand if you experienced teasing or bullying in your life, I imagine most of us would be raising our hands. For some of us it was a searing experience that has impacted much of our lives since then. For others it may have been a time that brought some reality into our lives without much lasting consequence. Yet, we know that for many being bullied was, and is, an ongoing serious concern.
Throughout history, people have been moved to share the inspiration they find in nature, and their understanding of the experiences in their lives, and ours, that nature can offer. Throughout history people surrounded by nature have been moved to prayer. And we come together today to celebrate a festival of nature whose roots predate Christianity.
My first year in seminary we were all required to meet each week in a small group called Curriculum Conference. I was surprised to learn that one of the members of the class, lived on a farm in a nearby suburb—a sheep farm. All winter long as we talked about our lives and our experiences as new seminary students, we watched Liz knit scarves and sweaters from fine wool of vibrant colors—wool from the sheep she and her husband raised. The last meeting was held at her house because it was lambing time. We marveled at the gentle lambs—they seemed to be all legs, covered with white fluff. We held them and they nestled into our arms.
For me, preaching at a funeral, much like preaching at a wedding, is an essential part of my call to ministry. When else are there so many people in church for whom Jesus Christ has little impact on their daily lives? There is no more pregnant time for birthing new life in Christ.
I have a pair of earrings that I cherish. Each is a small disc of old dull gold, with decorative engraving around a tiny pearl. Some years ago I dropped one of them and stepped on it, breaking the disc off the ear wire. I was quite sad when I realized what I’d done.
In today’s reading from the Gospel of John we see Jesus struggle with the reality of what is to come. In this Gospel he goes knowingly to his death, yet he has struggled with the truth that approaches and accepted his fate.
How many times have we seen an adult trying to comfort a screaming baby? Have you ever been mystified and at the same time frustrated when regardless of what you tried, you had no success? For a new parent it is a relief when one can finally begin to understand what a baby needs by the sound of their cry.
Think a minute of the fanciest invitation you ever received. Was it for a wedding, birthday, graduation or engagement party? A Bar or Bat Mitzvah? An Anniversary?
When you received the envelope in the mail, did you know it was something special? Did the envelope have a certain size? A certain weight? An unusual color? Was your name written in careful script? What did you think when you opened it up?
I wonder if you’ve seen the clip on YouTube of Jimmy Kimmel on his late night television show noting that we’re hearing a lot about Jesus in the race for the Presidency, we might listen to Jesus saying some of what we’re hearing in the campaign. He shows Jesus standing behind a podium with the American and other flags behind him, repeating comments about walls, and refugees, and use of guns that we have heard. As we listen, the contrast is profound between the figure and the sentences he repeats.
The Gospel of Matthew was written for people who were Jewish, yet followers of Jesus Christ. They were a minority among the Jews of that time and there was growing tension between the two groups. Thus the story of Jesus’ birth and flight to Egypt in Matthew reflects the Hebrew ethos of the time.
What’s in a name? I was surprised some years ago when a friend asked me what my second name was. I wondered what she meant for a second and then realized that she had two names she used as a first name, Nancy Mack, and she wondered what my name really was. I had to disappoint her, my parents named me Ann. Very simple, no middle name, just Ann.
How appropriate that we read this lesson that begins the Gospel of John on the first Sunday after Christmas. This quieter time gives us a chance to reflect on the meaning of the prophecy fulfilled in Jesus’ birth. To hear these words leads us into that time of reflection.
What child is this? is a question for all of us. Our answers change as we grow older—as we see the world through eyes of wisdom and experience.
G. K. Chesterton, the famous British poet and theologian, was a brilliant man who could think deep thoughts and express them well. He was also extremely absent-minded throughout his life, so much so that he became known for getting lost. Once he even sent a telegram to his wife that said: “Honey, seems I’m lost again. Presently, I am at Market Harborough. Where ought I to be?” In a clear and precise answer, she telegraphed back a one-word reply “HOME!”
I remember a cartoon, probably from The New Yorker, that showed three men. One, rather small in stature, was standing against a wall. He had disheveled hair, a long beard, and wore a tunic with patches all over it. He was holding a sign that read: The end is at hand.
