We are a small Episcopal Church on the banks of the Rappahannock in Port Royal, Virginia. We acknowledge that we gather on the traditional land of the first people of Port Royal, the Nandtaughtacund, and we respect and honor with gratitude the land itself, the legacy of the ancestors, and the life of the Rappahannock Tribe. Our mission statement is to do God’s Will in all that we do.

Sermon, Season of Creation I, Proper 17, Sept 3, 2023

Sermon, Season of Creation I, Proper 17, Year A 2023


The forests of Ethiopia. Page with links to both of the stories and videos.


“Lord, I love the house in which you dwell and the place where your glory abides,” states the psalmist. 

Jesus, who came and pitched his tent among us, lived among us, and died as one of us, dwelt on this earth. And when our hearts are open to God, we know that God has always lived among us.  Back in the Garden of Eden, in the very first book in our Bible, Genesis, God had a habit of walking in the garden in the cool of the evening. 

And in the closing book of the New Testament, Revelation, God once more comes and dwells among us, after ridding the earth of the evil that has held it in thrall for so long. 

“See,” the writer of Revelation proclaims, “See, the home of God is among mortals.  God will dwell with us and we will be God’s peoples, and God will be with us, and will wipe every tear from our eyes.  Death will be no more, mourning and crying and pain will be no more, for the first things have passed away.”  

So we live in the time of God with us now and not yet quite fully, knowing that truly, the earth itself is the house of the Lord, for God is not only transcendent and heavenly, but also immanent,  as near to us as the air we breathe, as refreshing and as life giving  to us as the water we drink, as restoring as the rain after a long drought, and as solid as the rocky mantle that supports the soil and all of life on this earth. 

Jesus came and dwelt among us so that we could see, with our own eyes, that God has always dwelt in our midst, on this earth, which is not only God’s footstool, but the very body of God, as theologian Sallie McFague would say.   We earth dwellers live and move and have our being within the body of God during our lives on this earth. 

And so, when we truly open our eyes, we can see for ourselves God’s glory abiding all around us. 

“Lord, I love the house in which you dwell and the place where your glory abides—” God’s glory, so intricately woven into the fabric of this earth and  the entire universe.    

So we rejoice in hope, even as we look around us and see God’s glory diminished by the ways in which we abuse and mistreat one another. 

Even when we look around and truly begin to see the ways in which we have been both intentionally and unintentionally oblivious and negligent, greedy,  and selfish in the ways in which we relate to God’s earth, still, we can rejoice in hope.

When Jesus told the disciples that they must take up their crosses and follow him, he was hopeful.  Jesus told the disciples that the next part of his journey would be difficult, and would include suffering and death—but that beyond the suffering and death was resurrection.   Jesus  was hopeful that the disciples could see beyond the  grim predictions of the “now” into the  hope of the resurrection life of the “not yet.”  This resurrection life included the time that they were spending with him, because in being with him they were learning about what resurrection life is in the here and now.  So when Jesus told the disciples that they must take up their crosses and follow him, he was hopeful that they would do so, despite the costs.

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Sermon, Proper 15, Aug 20, 2023

When I was in seminary, our professors did not hesitate to share their dislikes of certain hymns.  Our music professor, Bill Roberts, was outspoken over the fact that “Pass me not, O gentle Savior,” was not a favorite of his.

“Because,” Bill said, “Jesus would never pass anyone by.” 

Being passed by is awful and demoralizing.  Probably all of us can think of times in our lives when we felt ignored, passed by, or disregarded by others. 

But Jesus?  Would Jesus EVER pass us by? 

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Sermon, the Transfiguration, Aug 6, 2023

When my five-year-old granddaughter and I are going somewhere in the car, we often listen to music that she likes.  Not too long ago, we got the soundtrack to Aladdin from the library.  My car is not exactly a magic carpet ride, but the music does take us into another world, a magical world in which what’s expected gets turned upside down and the impossible becomes reality. 

In the movie, Jasmine, a princess with all she could ever want and more than she could ever need who is imprisoned in the restrictive world of royal expectations meets  Aladdin, a street urchin who never has enough and is constantly in trouble with the law. 

The two go on a magic carpet ride high above the world that holds them both captive.  We probably all know the hit song from this show, “A Whole New World.”

As I was listening to this song yet again, the thought burst into my mind that in many ways, the lyrics have some similarities to  what is  going in today’s scripture, when Peter, John, and James go up on the mountain with Jesus to pray.  High above the world that they know, they open their hearts to God.  Although they are weighed down with sleep, they are awake enough to be aware of what is happening. 

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Sermon, Pentecost 7, Proper 10, July 16, 2023

Beginning this Sunday and for the following two Sundays, we have the privilege of hearing Jesus tell four parables.    

In Matthew’s gospel, as Eugene Boring notes in his commentary, the words, deeds, and mission of Jesus have caused quite a bit of conflict with and rejection by the leaders of Israel, and right before the passage that we just heard, Jesus is even in conflict with his own family.  Jesus says that his family is not necessarily made up of his “blood kin,” as we say in the South. 

Instead, the family of Jesus consists of the ones who hear the word and then do God’s will. 

So according to Boring,  Jesus tells the four parables that we find in the 13th chapter of Matthew in order to comment on the meaning of his rejection by the leaders of Israel and the founding of the new community of God, the community made up of those people who do God’s will—not necessarily the religious leaders of the day, or even his own family.

In today’s parable, Jesus, the sower, sows God’s Word, or the seeds, out in the world, with mixed success.  Many of the seeds are lost as they fall on pathways so well-trodden that the ground is too hard to receive the seeds and so the birds eat the seeds up.   More seed is wasted as it falls onto rocky ground.  Even though some of the seed takes root, it withers away because there’s not enough soil to keep the roots moist.  Other seeds come up but get choked out by the thorns that have also grown up alongside the seed.  Finally, some of the seed falls on good soil and produces a harvest that is abundant beyond imagining. 

So someone hearing this parable might come to understand that despite all the conflict and rejection with the leaders of Israel, a new understanding of God’s kingdom on earth will take root and produce an abundant harvest.  This parable, as Boring points out, shows us the “mysterious, concealed working of God, who miraculously brings the harvest.” 

The parables that Jesus tells start in a familiar world, but as the story goes on, those listening find that their usual expectations get challenged, and new understandings begin to take shape in their hearts and minds. 

Imagine what would happen if Jesus were among us today, and wanted to tell a parable to us, to get us to consider what it means to do God’s will, to reconsider who is God’s family, and to ponder what an abundant harvest, brought about by the mysterious working of God, will look like. 

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Sermon, July 9, 2023 – Pentecost 6, Proper 9

Sermon, Proper 9, Year A 2023

Zechariah 9:9-12; Psalm 145:8-15; Romans 7:15-25a; Matthew 11:16-19, 25-30

Before the jail in Caroline County closed several years ago, several of us led a Bible study there once a month.   As part of our training, we took a tour of the jail and got to see how the prisoners lived.  We were allowed to go into a part of the jail that wasn’t being used, so that we could see how the prisoners lived.    

Each cell clustered around the large common area holds four people.  The bunks are metal.  There is a clearly visible toilet in each cell, offering no privacy.  The prisoners spend a great deal of time in their cells.  At certain times of the day, they can come out into the common room, unless there has been some disturbance and they are locked down.  Getting outside means going into an area with a high fence topped with barbed wire, where there is room to walk, but not room for anything else. 

And for prisoners who cause trouble, the solitary cell to which they are confined is separated from everyone else, completely silent and windowless, completely isolated from the outside world.

Periodically, throughout our lives, we find that we are maybe not in an actual jail cell, but in some circumstance in which feel that we are being held captive. 

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Sermon, July 2, 2023, Pentecost 5

Sermon, Proper 8,  Year A 2023 

Psalm 89:1-4, 15-18, Romans 6: 12-23, Matthew 10:40-42

In a Native American legend recorded for You Tube by the Anasazi Foundation, a grandparent tells his grandchild about two wolves who are at war.   The grandparent describes the two wolves. 

One is a bad wolf full of anger, envy, jealousy, regret, resentment, judgement, bitterness, hate, spite, cruelty,  greed, self-pity, guilt, inferiority, lies, false pride, and ego.      

The other wolf, the good wolf, is full of peace, joy, hope, love, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence and generosity, empathy, truth, compassion, self-control, and faith. 

The grandparent places his hand on his grandchild’s shoulder.  “These two wolves are at war inside of me, and also inside of you, and every man, woman and child who walks this earth.” 

The grandchild thinks for a moment and then asks the grandparent, “Which wolf will win?” 

The grandparent replies, “The one you feed.” 

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Sermon, Pentecost 3, Proper 6, June 18, 2023

Exodus 19:2-8a; Psalm 110; Romans 5:1-8; Matthew 9:35-10:8

First, I’d like to thank Ben for preaching the sermon I had planned to share with you last week before I unexpectedly had to be absent. 

The theme of that sermon was “Press on to know the Lord.” 

As God’s people, we are to press on throughout our lives to grow in our knowledge and love of God,

for that knowledge and love of God brings us peace

and God’s peace brings us into a deeper knowledge and deeper love of God, a never ending circular exchange,

an eternal turning toward love that is essential to our spiritual growth. 

As we receive God’s peace, as we come to know God’s love more and more personally, we also find that our hearts fill with joy. 

And that is the theme of today’s sermon!  Rejoice! 

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Sermon, Proper 5, Pentecost 2, June 11, 2023

Sermon, Proper 5, Year A 2023
Hosea 5:15-6:6, Romans 4:13-25, Matthew 9:9-13, 18-26

Please look at your bulletin cover.  The device in the photograph shows a person in a wheelchair, and underneath the image is this statement.

“Press to operate door.” 

I usually don’t use these devices, even when they are available, because I believe that I am self-sufficient enough to open the door myself. 

But think about it.  On some level, every one of us here today is that person who stands in front of a door and can’t get it open.  The door isn’t stuck, we are!  All of us need God’s help in some way or another.  Maybe your belief system has you stuck, or you are devastated by grief and can’t get up, or you are physically sick and can’t stand.  All of these ways of being stuck keep us from pushing open the door into the glorious freedom of life in God.

Give it some thought! 

What keeps you stuck?    

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Sermon, Pentecost Year A May 28, 2023

Come, Holy Spirit! 

From the beginning, the breath of the Holy Spirit pours out, bringing life.   The Holy Spirit gives life to smallest microscopic organisms that can be seen only with the help of a microscope, and yet are essential to the world’s food chain.  And the Holy Spirit works in and through the sweeping grandeur of this earth’s magnificent and ever changing landscapes, covered in life, that the earth sustains.

All of this life exists and thrives through the power of the Holy Spirit, uncontrollable, wild, and free.  As Jesus told Nicodemus, “The wind blows where it chooses, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know where it comes from or where it goes. So it is with everyone who is born of the Spirit.” 

We Christians have been given the knowledge that the Holy Spirit is at work in our lives.  I guarantee you that even  when we don’t acknowledge or recognize the Spirit, the Holy Spirit is always at work in those born of the Spirit, and that’s us. 

So today, I’d like to talk about how the Holy Spirit works in our lives so that we can more easily recognize the Spirit’s presence in each of us and among us. 

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Sermon, Easter 6, May 14, 2023 – Praying for God to fill our imaginations

Have you ever wondered about what is going to happen to church as we know it?  What is going to happen to St Peter’s after we are gone? 

Like many churches, we now have fewer people here at St Peter’s.   Even the huge denomination of Southern Baptists has declined by over three million members since 2006, losing almost half a million members in just this past year. 

The signs of the decline of what we can broadly term Christendom are everywhere. 

We ask ourselves how many people we can lose and keep going.    Maybe we ought to spend our money differently.    Do we need to change our worship services?  We are puzzled, clueless and troubled when we think about these things.  I don’t know about you, but I don’t want St Peter’s, after a long slow decline, to someday be deconsecrated so that it can be sold and turned into yet another Port Royal antique shop! 

The disciples had some of the same questions we do.  They wondered what would happen to them when Jesus was gone.  They were worried about how they’d continue without him.   

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Sermon, 4th Sunday of Easter, April 30, 2023 – “Abundant Life”

John 10:1-10

Today’s gospel about abundant life offers so many things to think about—Jesus as the Good Shepherd; we sheep who follow the voice of our shepherd; the strangers, thieves and bandits who try to call us away from Jesus; and then, finding that Jesus himself is the gate through which we pass to enter into God’s everlasting security and abundant life.    

Jesus used these images because shepherds and the sheep pens that dotted the landscape were a familiar sight to those who were listening to him.    According to a meditation on The Our Daily Bread website,  the sheep pens were probably made of stone, or possibly wood, about three feet high.  Toward evening, the shepherd would lead the sheep into the sheep pen to protect them from predators.  Some of these enclosures were large enough for several flocks, so a watchman stood guard and allowed only certain shepherds and sheep to enter through the one gate into the sheep pen.  In smaller pens that held only one flock, the shepherd himself would serve as the gate.  Once the sheep were inside the pen, the shepherd would lie down at the entrance to the pen to serve as protection to the sheep through the night, and to keep out anyone or anything who might try to harm the flock. 

For us Christians, Jesus is gate through which we find God. Jesus is also the shepherd, the one who leads and guides us once we hear his voice, the one who leads us in and out and helps us to find the pasture in which we have all we need. 

This gospel reminds us, though, that often we hear the voices of the “thieves and bandits” of this world instead of the voice of Jesus, and so we choose not to enter the sheep pen, even when Jesus calls us, because other things seem more inviting, or more necessary.     

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Sermon, April 16, 2023, Easter 2 – Repentance “in touch with the Reality that God Creates”

“Hope” – George Frederic Watts 1886

Repentance plays a major part in today’s gospel. 

So let’s start with what repentance means.   

I like Eugene Peterson’s explanation of repentance in his book, Long Obedience in the Same Direction. 

Peterson says that “the usual biblical word describing the no we say to the world’s lies and the yes we say to God’s truth is repentance.  It is always and everywhere the first word in the Christian life.” 

He goes on to say that “repentance is not an emotion.  It is not feeling sorry for your sins.  It is a decision.” 

And that “repentance is the most practical of all words and the most practical of all acts.  It is a feet -on- the- ground sort of word.  It puts a person in touch with the reality that God creates.” 

In today’s gospel, John gives us the closing event on the day of the resurrection.  Early that morning, Mary Magdalene had met Jesus in the garden. 

After this emotional meeting, Mary had gone to tell the disciples that she had seen Jesus and all that he had said to her. 

Later that day, the disciples met, which brings us today’s gospel. 

They had locked all the doors of the house where they were because they were afraid. 

And Jesus came to them and said, “Peace be with you.”  He showed them his wounds.  They could have no doubt that Jesus was the person standing there in their midst.  They could see for themselves that God had brought about a new reality, something that they could not have imagined, new life out of death, , that is, the resurrection of Jesus.   

And they rejoiced. 

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Sermon, Good Friday, April 7, 2023

Can you imagine being Mary, the mother of Jesus, that day? 

Mary stood there with her sister, with Mary the wife of Clopas, with Mary Magdalene and with the beloved disciple on that dusty, horrid hill, Golgotha, the Place of the Skull.  The most sordid of deaths, Roman crucifixions, took place there.  Criminals hung on crosses and gasped out the last hours of their lives, and finally, agonizingly, suffocated and died.

Now, Mary is watching her own son hang on the cross.  This is the man that she had carried in her body for nine months, and given birth to,  loved and cared for as a child.  She loved him as he grew up into the man in whom she had complete confidence.  She is watching him die an ignominious death on a Roman cross. 

What must she have been feeling? 

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