Preaching the Scriptures

  The Rt. Rev. Jeremiah Williamson Galatians 6:1-16   Slow Seeds St. John’s, Richfield Springs   It is hard to know what to do in these turbulent times.   The news is often awful.   The problems of the world sound overwhelming.   Violence and war bubbles and boils and threatens to consume large swaths of humanity.   The divisions in our own nation appear intractable and entrenched.   The foundations are shaking and the future is ominous.     And here we are: so small on the world’s stage.   Each one, one in 8 billion.   Individual members of a small church in a beautiful little village. It can feel like we do not have enough leverage to turn the world in the direction of the Kingdom of God, that we don’t have the power to fix everything, to make everything OK.   And so, if you are like me, you are probably wondering what to do in these turbulent times.   While I suspect the ultimate answer to the f...

  The Rt. Rev. Jeremiah Williamson Mark 4:26-34   Planting seeds All Saints’, Hoosick   In 2020, during the height of the early pandemic, I decided to plant a garden.   Not very original, I know, but my wife has a gluten allergy and so bread-baking was pretty much off the table, and I am too cheap to buy a Peloton bike.   And so, I tended to a garden.   My first year was fairly successful.   I grew more spinach than we could possibly eat; the basil was fresh and delicious; my oldest son devoured the cherry tomatoes.   It was not a large garden; it did not solely sustain us through the ravages of the first year of the pandemic (I still had to buy and sanitize groceries), but I found the routine of my garden rewarding and the fruits of my labors fulfilling.     And then year two arrived.   I planted that second garden as life was reemerging.   The vaccine was available.   Masks were the norm; groceries no...

The Rev. Jeremiah Williamson Mark 4:26-34   Planting Seeds Once upon a time there stood two majestic trees in front of my West Toledo house – at least that is what I am told.   They have been gone for eight long years – two years before my wife and I purchased our home.   They once lived in that grassy strip of land between the sidewalk and the curb, which according to the internets has dozens of regional names, everything from tree lawn, verge, berm to Devil's Strip, but apparently no official name. At the closing, we met the previous owners of our home, Mr. and Mrs. Flis.   In between signing papers and writing checks and receiving keys, we had the opportunity to talk with the Flises.   They told us about their home of 52 years, and how they raised five children in that home, and how those children walked to church and school at St. Pius – just a few blocks away.   Decades of memories and love were attached to the home; the walls were s...