February 7, 2022: Sermon Preached by The Rev. Carolyn H. Eklund

January 30, 2022: Sermon Preached byThe Rev. Katie Holicky, Assistant Rector

It may be impossible for many of us to hear this section of Paul’s letter to the Corinitans without recalling at least one wedding we have attended where this was read. It is a beloved piece of scripture for so many. While this was not read at our wedding, the summer we got married many of our friends also wed. I remember one wedding in particular where I was a bridesmaid. As these famous words of love were read I recall catching Phil’s eyes across the crowd and feeling such profound thanksgiving for the journey of shared life we had said yes to.

January 23, 2022: Sermon Preached by The Rev. Carolyn H. Eklund

“I rejoice with you greatly in the Lord Jesus Christ because you have assumed the pattern of true love and have rightly helped on their way those who were in chains…I am glad…that your deep-rooted faith…still abides and continues to bear fruit in the life-giving power of our Lord Jesus Christ.”

January 9, 2022: Sermon Preached by The Rev. Mary Lee Wile

In her book In This House of Brede, Rumor Godden describes how a famous sculptor asked some nuns for an old stone pig trough – because he could envision, within that old stone, an image of Mary as Our Lady of Peace. That story reminds me of Michelangelo’s answer to a question about his statue of David, “How do you take rough stone and make such beauty from it?” “I just carve away anything that isn’t art.”

January 2, 2022: Sermon Preached by The Rev. Carolyn H. Eklund

I first learned of Watch Night on New Year’s Eve from my African American Baptist neighbor in Durham, North Carolina. She always spent New Year’s Eve at her church from 10 p.m. to at least 1 a.m. My neighbor is a descendant from slaves, and Watch Night is an essential observance that retells the story of how the Emancipation Proclamation was first communicated over the wires on January 1, 1863, 159 years ago. Slaves knew it was coming and sat around their homes or outdoor fires to hear the hope of freedom come to them.

December 26, 2021: Sermon Preached by The Rev. Katie Holicky

For the last few years, as I have considered the birth of Jesus at Christmas, the inbreaking of God in the world, it has been impossible for me to not think of how the birth of the little ones who have changed my life. Almost five and a half years ago we had moved to Maine, but I had yet to find work and was feeling a bit lost and uncertain. I knew I was called to this amazing place, and yet, after months of searching for work and being freshly graduated from seminary, I had no clue what I would do. I found myself searching for not just work, but a deeper meaning and purpose. 

December 25, 2021; Christmas Day Sermon Preached by The Rev. Carolyn H. Eklund

Merry Christmas!

       This Prologue of John’s Gospel is the essence of God desiring so deeply to connect with human beings, us, God’s precious daughters and sons, that God was born to live among us. Instead of the word, “live,” some translations use the word, “dwell.” The meaning behind the words “to live” and “to dwell” literally is “to set up his tent” among us, to be our neighbor, to be our brother, to share in every way our humanity.

To dwell among us is to completely be immersed into the life, the joys, the sorrows and the full human experience in perfection. Jesus is that flesh dwelling among us, “full of grace and truth.”

December 24, 2021; Christmas Eve Sermon Preached by The Rev. Carolyn H. Eklund

I greet you this night with Christmas joy, blessings and good health! Merry Christmas!

Many of you know that this fall during my sabbatical, I went on a sixteen-day pilgrimage of Turkey and Greece to follow the footsteps of our patron, Paul and of St. John. Each day, we visited several archaeological sites that were being excavated. Most were in active excavation.

December 19, 2021: Sermon Preached by The Rev. Mary Lee Wile

When I was a little girl, the closet in my bedroom had a back door. You pushed through clothes, unlatched a hook, and behind the door was a dark tunnel: a slanted crawl space that ran the length of the house. Among the various boxes stored there was an old green trunk, and when I was nine years old, I turned that trunk into an altar. I managed to sneak a candle upstairs, and sometimes I would go through both doors, light the candle, and just sit there, simply knowing that I was in the presence of God. – That is, until my mother needed something from one of those boxes and discovered my sanctuary.