Words From Silence: Contemplation in a World of Action

A Sermon Preached at the Cathedral Church of St. Mark Advent 4, Year A The Very Reverend Tyler B. Doherty, Dean & Rector Here we are at the darkest time of the year, when shadow and mystery envelop us, and things lose their crisply defined edges. Is that a person at the end of the driveway, or swaying tree branch? Someone whispering my name, or just the cold winter wind teasing the eaves? We enter into the darkness where our usual clarity and surety are stripped away and we find ourselves in an in-between place where dream, and uncertainty reign. Of course, it’s also the time of year when we, “rage against the dying of the light,” as Dylan Thomas writes. We string Christmas lights, inflate house-high Santas, drench the manger scene in 200 watt fluorescents in an effort to keep the creep of darkness at bay. Mystery is banished in the movement activated security light by the garage and reign of cold, hard, measurable fact reasserted. But what if we are called as Christian...

A Sermon Preached at the Cathedral Church of St. Mark 3 Advent, Year A The Very Reverend Tyler B. Doherty, Dean & Rector Poor John the Baptist. When we first encountered John he was living in the wilderness, making curious fashion choices, eating bugs dipped in honey, and proclaiming the coming of the Lord. “The ax is at the root of the tree!” he said, to remind us that Advent is a time when all of our accustomed ways of seeking the happiness for which we are created in all the wrong places, need to topple down in order that we might realize that we already are in possession of that which we seek. That old habit of looking “out there” for fulfillment through deeply-ingrained patterns of seeing and being in the world needs to fall down in order that the true peace, happiness, and joy for which our hearts are restless might sprout, and the desert bloom and blossom in the realization that God has been with us all along, buried in the field of the heart. Now, however, John is...

A Sermon Preached at the Cathedral Church of St. Mark First Sunday of Advent, Year A The Very Reverend Tyler B. Doherty, Dean & Rector One of the confusing things about the season of Advent is that it is a curious blend of darkness and light. Darkness that speaks of the end of one world and light that speaks of birth of another. In today’s readings we are called to, “Cast away the works of darkness and put on the armor of light.” We hear those glorious, prophetic words from Isaiah about how when the Lord’s house is established on the highest mountain, when God is all in all and human being are fashioned into perfect expressions of the Spirit of love and peace, swords will be beaten into ploughshares and spears into pruning hooks. Instruments of war and violence will be transfigured into tools of abundance and plenty. Advent is an in-between time, a time when something needs to tumble down in order to make a little room for something new to emerge. The world needs to go dark...

A Sermon Preached at the Cathedral Church of St. Mark Christ the King Sunday, Year C The Very Reverend Tyler B. Doherty, Dean & Rector It seems a curious way to celebrate Christ the King Sunday, to focus our attention on the crucifixion, doesn’t it? We can all think of a whole host of other passages that might do better in its stead—Peter’s Confession, a healing or feeding miracle, Jesus’ triumphal entry into Jerusalem, or the calming of the storm. So why focus on the crucifixion? Why focus on Jesus at his most vulnerable, despised, and outcast? What curious kind of king is this who is mocked and scourged, offered sour wine to drink and hung under a hastily scribbled sign—“This is the King of the Jews?” There are really two things going here. The first is that the crucifixion shows us how our ideas of what it means to be a King don’t match up with God’s ideas of Kingship. The second is that Jesus on the cross is actually embodying what James Allison calls, “a strange act ...

A Sermon Preached at the Cathedral Church of St. Mark Year C, Proper 28 The Very Reverend Tyler B. Doherty, Dean & Rector I remember when I was in high-school we had a career counseling day. I must have been in tenth or eleventh grade and had taken an aptitude test that had definitively determined that the best career path for me, by far, was to be a tank driver in the Canadian military. Somewhat perplexed (I had after all just been protesting the first Gulf War) I did a little digging and found out that of all the positions in the military, tank drivers had the shortest life-expectancy. The bubble test had determined that the best course for my life was to be blown up as quickly as possible on the battlefield. But there was one redeeming thing from that career counseling day. Someone asked the CEO speaker for the best advice they had for people entering the workforce. He didn’t hesitate and replied, “You job is going away.” He went on to explain that on average people ...

A Sermon Preached at the Cathedral Church of St. Mark All Saints, Year C The Very Reverend Tyler B. Doherty, Dean & Rector Sometimes, I think that when we hear the word “saint” our first impulse is to think of the spiritual superstars of our tradition—the Mother Teresa, Francis, Benedict, John of the Cross, and most recently John Henry Newman. Saints seem to present a rather extraordinary example of holiness that none of us regular folks can live up to. Saints can seem otherworldly to the extreme as they glide a few inches above the earth existing solely on manna from heaven and tiny sips of holy water. When we’re stuck with that kind of picture of saintliness, when that picture “holds us captive” as St. Ludwig Wittgenstein would say, we miss, I think, an important aspect of what it means to be a saint, and that is their very ordinary humanness. This time of year, if you come into the Church early in the morning you’ll see the sun’s early rays lighting up the Resurrection...

A Sermon Preached at the Cathedral Church of St. Mark All Saints, Year C The Very Reverend Tyler B. Doherty, Dean & Rector Sometimes, I think that when we hear the word “saint” our first impulse is to think of the spiritual superstars of our tradition—the Mother Teresa, Francis, Benedict, John of the Cross, and most recently John Henry Newman. Saints seem to present a rather extraordinary example of holiness that none of us regular folks can live up to. Saints can seem otherworldly to the extreme as they glide a few inches above the earth existing solely on manna from heaven and tiny sips of holy water. When we’re stuck with that kind of picture of saintliness, when that picture “holds us captive” as St. Ludwig Wittgenstein would say, we miss, I think, an important aspect of what it means to be a saint, and that is their very ordinary humanness. This time of year, if you come into the Church early in the morning you’ll see the sun’s early rays lighting up the Resurrecti...

A Sermon Preached at the Cathedral Church of St. Mark Year C, Proper 25 The Very Reverend Tyler B. Doherty, Dean & Rector In our reading from Joel, we have this astounding, poetic, evocation of the abundance and inexhaustibility of the generosity of God towards the people of Israel and by extension the entire created order. Yes, you’ve known the swarming locusts of illness. Yes, you’ve known the hopper of loss. Yes, you’ve known the cutter of a broken relationships and the army of loneliness. But, God says (and it’s a big but) but I’m not done with you! My abundance, my ability to bring new life out of apparent dead ends, my power to draw fruitfulness from barrenness, my power to make for you a home when all you’ve known is exile and wilderness wanderings, is inexhaustible. Be alert! Be watchful! Utter your “Yes!” to the invitation that’s been on offer from the foundation of the world, and you’ll see that I’m doing a new thing! And then Joel begins to sketch out what he’s...

A Funeral Homily for Ron Allison Today we gather to mourn the passing and celebrate the life of our dear brother Ron. At the reception afterwards we’ll have a chance to share stories of about this beloved character, but for now I want to look through the glass of Ron’s life to see how it might open onto the mystery of God, and our walk of Christian discipleship. He has a lot to teach us. Our Gospel passage for today speaks of there being “many mansions in my Father’s house.” One way to use that image in our understanding of who and how God is for, with, and ahead of us, is to hear it as a statement of unconditional belovedness for all of God’s children—indeed for the entire created order. If there is one thing you can say about Ron, it’s that he was unique. A true character. With his ever-dapper sartorial flair (he was the only 77 year-old I know who could pull of Converse and skinny jeans), his Anglophilic preoccupations (particularly with anything pertaining to Her Majesty the ...