Words of the Mouth and Meditations of the Heart

Sermon for Pentecost VI, 2026, delivered at St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Louisville, KY Texts: Psalm 145:8-15 , Romans 7:15-25a , Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30 If you are like me, of a certain age, and grew up in the church using the 1928 prayer book , the sentence toward the end of the gospel reading will be familiar, and I can still recite it by heart: “Come unto me all ye that travail and are heavy laden and I will refresh you.” It was one of several scriptural quotations said right after the absolution of sins, and they were called the “comfortable words.” I didn’t appreciate the Elizabethan English that the 1928 prayer book preserved until I read Shakespear’s plays in high school. I also glossed over the word “travail” until one day during the service I realized what it meant: it came directly from the French verb travailler, meaning to work, or to labor, and suddenly the sentence made sense to me. It was an invitation from Jesus to bring our laborious burdens to him so that we coul...

Sermon for Pentecost III, 2026, delivered at St. Pal's Episcopal Church, Louisville, KY Text: Matthew 9:35-10:8 About 20 years ago, I wound up a four year commitment to the Red Cross as a disaster volunteer. I was part of a crew that drove and set up a tricked-out Ford Excursion SUV that could bring the internet to wherever it was, as well as provide radio communications on just about any frequency needed. It was a complicated truck to operate, and my first deployment was with the truck manager, Mike. He knew how to do everything with it, and I learned a lot from him. My next deployment was for a hurricane disaster response in Florida with another crew member, and that was when I really felt unsure of my abilities. But Mike had confidence in me, and we did ok while on the job. I realized that my first deployment with Mike was a trial run, and the second was the real thing. The disciples’ experience of going out for the first time and actually doing what they had seen Jesus do was ...

Sermon for Pentecost 202, delivered at St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Louisville, KY Text: Acts 2:1-21 , 1 Corinthians 12:3b-13 , John 20:19-23 Recently on a Facebook group that I help manage, someone posted in German about a medical problem they had with their child. Facebook, in its helpful wisdom, automatically translates posts in one language into the language of the reader with a fair amount of accuracy. Except this time. In the German post, the word “Antriebslosigkeit “ was used and is translated by the Google Translate app to mean “low drive.” However, in the Facebook post, it was translated as “impotence,” and I alerted the poster, in German, to this potentially embarrassing mistranslation. I suggested “Energielosigkeit” which translates to “lack of energy,” that was more appropriate for what the poster wanted to say. Soon after, a Dutch member, who also speaks English, German, and French chimed in and offered to help with translating vocabulary. I gratefully accepted the of...

Sermon for Easter V, 2026, delivered at St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Louisville, KY Text: John 14:1-14 If I tried really hard, I could mostly recite the first half of this morning’s gospel reading by heart, because it is an appointed reading for funerals, and because I read it two to three times a week on Thursdays at funerals I volunteer for. This passage is part of the Farewell Discourse in the Gospel of John, chapters 13-17, where Jesus says goodbye to his disciples and charges them with spreading his teachings to the world. He is wrapping up his time with them, reminding them of what he has taught them, forming them into a community that continues his work after he is gone. It starts with Jesus showing them selfless service by washing the feet of the disciples, and then moves on to acknowledging their distress when they find out he is leaving, and then ends with a long prayer for their guidance and protection. All of this takes place immediately before he is arrested in Gethsem...

Sermon for Easter II, 2026, delivered at St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Louisville, KY Text: John 20:19-31 Many years ago, the hospital lab I was working in had its three-year inspection, including a review of the operations manual for each section of the lab. One of the inspectors wanted to know where our procedure for writing procedures was. There was some eye-rolling because we had a self-explanatory template for writing procedures, so a procedure for writing procedures was not needed. That moment of defining a definition recalled conversations I have had with hard-core rationalists who claim that the only things that are true are what we can quantify. So, for example, I can measure out a pound of ground beef to make chili. How do I know it’s a pound? The scale I use tells me so. How do I know the scale is accurate? I use a standard weight to calibrate it. Who made that standard? How did they ensure that it was exactly one pound? You see where this is going, that we can go crazy t...

Stations of the Cross reflection, 2026, delivered at St. Francis of Assisi, Louisville, KY Station 14: Jesus is laid in the tomb      We adore you, oh Christ, and we bless you, because by your holy cross you have redeemed the world.      When it was evening, there came a rich man from Arimathea, named Joseph, who also was a disciple of      Jesus. He went o Pilate and asked for the body of Jesus. Then Pilate ordered to be given to him. Then           J oseph took the body and wrapped it in a clean linen shroud, and laid it in his own new tomb which he         had hewn in the rock; and he rolled a great stone to the door tomb. Joseph of Arimathea asked for the body of Jesus when it was taken down from the cross. He did this to preserve Jesus’ dignity and his holiness in the face of an unjust death. Joseph of Arimathea’s example continues today as the volunteers of the St. Joseph of Arimath...

Good Friday, 2026 homily, delivered at St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Louisville, KY One of my diaconal ordination charges is to "make Christ and his redemptive love known” to the world, and one way I do that is to volunteer with the St. Joseph of Arimathea Society. I attend funerals every Thursday, and I can confidently say that I have been to more funerals of people I didn’t know than of people I have known. More than half of our funerals have no one in attendance other than the volunteers, with the remaining funerals having family and/or friends present. Beyond addressing the loss and grief of those present, there is a recognition that a relationship has ended at death. And even when no one is present, there is awareness that relationships ended some time ago, whether through estrangement or being the last of the family to die. I experience brief sadness when I think of those relationships that have ended, things said that shouldn’t have been said, and things that needed to b...

Sermon for Lent III, 2026, delivered at St. Paul's Episcopal Church, Louisville, KY Text:    Exodus 17:1-7 , John 4:5-42 The readings this morning are brought to you by the letter “W” for water. Moses found water in rocks, and Jesus asked a Samaritan woman for water from a well. I am reminded of a phrase you may have heard before that goes, “Water, water everywhere, nor any drop to drink.” That is a line from the epic poem The Rime Of The Ancient Mariner by Samuel Coleridge Taylor. The poem tells the story of a ship captain who is frustrated by an albatross that his crew believes is bringing wind to the ship’s sails, and he kills the bird. Misfortune then follows them, the ship and crew are lost, and the captain eventually makes it ashore. He is doomed to tell his story because of the weight of his guilt. At the end of the poem, the captain says “He prayeth best, who loveth best / All things both great and small; For the dear God who loveth us, / He made and loveth all.” The...

Ash Wednesday reminds me that the church year is a cycle, a never-ending loop of time where we experience several different sets of emotions and spiritual events. We have the anticipation of Advent and Christmas, the wonder of Epiphany, the work of the Spirit at and after Pentecost, the elation of Easter, and now the sober reflection of Lent. Over the years, I have worked to make Lent a little different each year to keep it from becoming routine and stale, something that only lasts for the first two weeks. The tradition of Lent has been to confess sins and repent of them, but that seems too narrow when I confess my sins daily in Morning Prayer and on Sunday at the Eucharist. There is a necessary element of looking deeply and honestly at our failings, things we did that we shouldn’t have done, things we didn’t do that we should have done, and those are not part of daily devotions. This is an essential part of the Lenten experience, but not one that should lead us to wallow in our broken...