Words From Silence: Contemplation in a World of Action

A Sermon Preached at the Cathedral Church of St. Mark Year B Proper 23 The Reverend Tyler B. Doherty, Priest-in-Charge Journey to Generosity I remember when I was the co-chair of the Adult Spiritual Formation Commission at our parish in Philadelphia, we were having a conversation about themes for the upcoming program year—going around the table and discussing possible foci and classes. After about ten minutes, a usually kind and gentle older woman jumped in with a rather exasperated comment: “What is all this talk about the spiritual journey? What are you talking about? I come to church on Sundays, isn’t that enough?” It was an eye-opening exchange—one where all of my assumptions about the Christian life were called immediately into question. It made me realize that many of the things I’d taken for granted about how I approached the life of discipleship weren’t shared by others. I had found the recovery of a sense of the adventure of the Christian path, walking the way ...

A Sermon Preached at the Cathedral Church of St. Mark Year B, Proper 22: Job 1:1; 2:1-10; Psalm 26; Hebrews 1:1-4; 2:5-12; Mark 10:2-16 The Reverend Tyler B. Doherty, Priest-in-Charge Sometimes, if you watch too much History Channel or listen to folks like Bart Ehrman, you can get the mistaken impression that the Gospels are a history lesson. And since they are a rather bad and contradictory history lesson, we needn’t bother with the whole business. The trouble with a purely historical approach to the Bible is simply that the Bible isn’t simply history. Like the proverbial person with a hammer who sees everything as a nail, the presumption that the Gospels are or should be factual reportage live from Galilee blinds us and deafens us to the Gospel’s deeper call. Remember last week I mentioned that from the earliest days of the tradition, Christians have always read scripture on at least four different levels, or senses—the literal/historical, the allegorical/spiritual, the mor...

7 a.m. Eucharist yawn opening up before dawn footsteps echo through the empty knave bounce between trusses settle in the organ loft under what must be the rose window Jesus stoops low towel tied about his waist to wash a horrified Peter’s dusty feet the difficulty of remaining little poor receiving first the chalice and paten water wine breadbox lavabo bowl set the lections ‘let the dead bury the dead’ save the altar candles for last reverence then sit to watch fledgling morning’s forms emerge from forgetfulness’ far country take shape tree fencepost pigeons trading spaces on the powerline last night’s dream the homily a gauzy drift of memory plans and things for the to-do list come and go in the silent absence where everything comes to nothing ‘no place to lay his head’

A Sermon Preached at the Cathedral Church of St. Mark Esther 7:1-6, 9-10; 9:20-22; Psalm 124; James 5:13-20; Mark 9:38-50 The Reverend Tyler B. Doherty, Priest-in-Charge Last week, we heard Jesus speak of the necessity of welcoming the little children. After James and John get through arguing making Israel great again, Jesus takes a little child and sets in the center of the circle declaring—" Whoever wants to be first must be last of all and servant of all.… Whoever welcomes one such child in my name welcomes me, and whoever welcomes me welcomes not me but the one who sent me.” Children, of course, are symbolic of the very least of these, the most marginal group. They have no rights, they are utterly dependent upon their parents for survival, and can do nothing on their own. They are at constant risk, both then and now, from the predations of adult power, privilege, and domination. When Jesus sets the little child at the center of the circle and takes it in his arms h...

A Funeral Homily for Ann Hankinson We gather today as the Thursday crew here at the Cathedral to mourn the passing and celebrate the life of Annie Hankinson. These past few days, as I’ve learned more about Annie’s life, it’s been eye-opening to hear what a remarkable woman she was. I feel the pang of sorrow that I didn’t get to know her before the Alzheimer’s had already set in. Especially for someone as gifted, lively, fiery, talented as Annie, it’s particularly difficult to only have known her robbed of so much of what made her the person she was. Forget those schmaltzy pictures of heaven being filled with harp-plucking angels with beatific smiles plastered across their face. I see fiery, red-headed Annie now in all her edgy, non-conformist glory back at the piano composing her challenging melodies and setting the cherubim’s teeth on edge. Many of you know that Annie spent time growing up in a small village in Pakistan where her father was a doctor at the village hospital, and...

Morning Rush Hour Glimpse: Mary-Martha travel mug in one hand battered watering can in the other cigarette screwed into the corner of his mouth broken -down slippers terry -cloth housecoat pried open by potbelly hair an unkempt salt-and-pepper bird’s nest he singly spritzes the twiggy clutch of hardpan yellow mums by the sagging front porch step the one thing necessary

A Sermon Preached at the cathedral Church of St Mark Year B Proper 20: Proverbs 31:10-31; Psalm 1; James 3:13-4:3, 7-8a; Mark 9:30-37 The Reverend Tyler B. Doherty, Priest-in-Charge One of the persistent themes of Mark’s gospel is the constant misapprehension on the part of the disciples about the identity of Jesus. They can never quite wrap their minds around what Jesus is up and who he really is. Whether it’s thinking of the messiah as a kind of military victor who will lead the Israelites to political triumph over the occupying Imperial Roman powers or seeing Jesus as another instance of wonder-worker and healer, the disciples in Mark are a little like the Three Stooges or the Keystone Cops. They fail to recognize Jesus’ true identity and try again and again to understand him on the basis of received knowledge and according to existing categories. One of the reasons why Jesus tells people after a healing or act of power not to tell anyone else, is because he knows all too ...