Preaching the Scriptures

The Rt. Rev. Jeremiah Williamson Acts 2:1-21   Superpower St. John’s, Troy   It was April of 2023, and I was sitting in St. Michael’s Chapel at Christ the King for the first, but not the last, time.   Where the congregation typically sits were the members of the diocesan Profile and Search Committee.   Before the altar, on high, backless stools, were those in discernment, those prayerfully considering a new form of ministry.   I was on one of those stools.   And, along with my fellow candidates, I was answering questions pulled, if I am remembering correctly, randomly from a hat, or from some similar utilitarian receptacle.     The questions throughout this semi-finalist retreat had been probing and challenging and appropriately complex.   Those days we spent together were days of deep discernment.   The committee needed to leave that retreat with a slate of finalists to present to the public.   Each question alo...

T he Rt. Rev. Jeremiah Williamson Acts 1:1-14   Hard to Believe Good Shepherd, Elizabethtown   It was hard to believe.   And they were standing right there, watching it happen.   They thought that Jesus might finally settle down, after everything, but instead he was going up.   And there was no stopping him.   Before their very eyes, he was lifted up, beyond their reach, beyond their words, beyond any feeble attempt to reason with him, or beg him to stay.   There was nothing they could do but watch him go.   And that is exactly what they did: they just stood there staring, stunned silent, mouths agape, angels lecturing and shouting instructions.   They likely arrived on the scene with some preconceived notion, some sense of expectation.   But they were not expecting this.   It was just so hard to believe.   But for the disciples, this was nothing new.   Not really.   Jesus had this tendency to surprise...

The Rt. Rev. Jeremiah Williamson John 14:15-21   Never, Ever Alone Church of the Messiah, Glens Falls   I have a little sister.   She is two years younger than me.   When we were children, she had a favorite movie.   We watched it all the time.   I could recite all the lines; I knew the catchy songs.   I enjoyed the dumb dog.   I appreciated that the male lead was bald.     Annie, set during the Great Depression, was about the eponymous little orphan girl, remembered for her bright red afro, who is adopted by that wealthy bald man, Daddy Warbucks.   She lived a hard-knock life, in a smelly orphanage, with the great Carol Burnett, until, in the end, she finds her happily ever after.   It is little Annie whom I picture when I imagine an orphan.   I do not imagine eleven grown men – all free range, some with wives and children, some with parents who are, in fact, explicitly mentioned in the Bible doing thi...