Listen to the Latest Services

Thursday, June 15
Sunday 11 a.m. Eucharist
Download service leaflet
Thursday, June 22
Thursday 5:15 p.m. Evensong
Download service leaflet

Listen to Featured Sermons

Sunday, June 4
Sunday 11 a.m. Sermon
Preacher: The Rt. Rev. Marc Handley Andrus
Sermon from Sunday's 11 a.m. Eucharist
Read sermon

The Rt. Rev. Marc Handley Andrus preached without a manuscript.

Sunday, May 28
Sunday 11 a.m. Sermon
Preacher: The Rt. Rev. Jonathan Clark
Read sermon

The Rt. Rev. Jonathan Clark’s sermon manuscript will be available soon.

Listen to Past Sermons

Sermons from the last six months are listed below. Older sermons can be heard through iTunes podcast.

Sunday, April 30
Reasonable Religion
Preacher: The Rev. Dr. Ellen Clark-King
Sermon from Sunday's 11 a.m. Eucharist
Read sermon

Easter 3 2017

There were some wonderfully witty signs at the March for Science last week. Ours from Grace Cathedral wasn’t bad: ‘Let’s take a moment of science’ but I particularly loved some of the others. ‘Got the plague? Me neither. Thank Science.’ For the geeks out there ‘Think like a proton – stay positive.’ And the so true ‘You know things are bad when even the introverts are marching.’ But there was one t-shirt slogan that I really didn’t like. It was this: ‘Too stupid to understand science? Try religion.’

And that, right there, was why it was important for us to be at the march. To show that religion and reason are allies, not enemies. That religion is not where you go to when you want to turn your brain off but where you go to when you have questions that science isn’t designed to answer. Where you find a place to ask the ‘why’ questions as well as the ‘how’ and ‘what’ questions. But religion itself also still needs to be accountable to reason. Our faith claims cannot be tested in a laboratory to see if they are valid but they still have to make rational sense, they still have to provide a worldview that is coherent and compelling.

So how does the resurrection stand up to this condition? Not very well, it seems at first. These two travelers on their way to Emmaus meet someone who, by every tenet of science, should not be there. Someone who died very publicly and was even buried. So, not surprisingly, they fail to recognize their new walking companion – the last person on earth they would have expected to encounter. And their eyes are only opened when two things have happened. Firstly, Jesus has explained their faith to them in ways that give them a new understanding, a new perspective on reality, a new way of making sense of the world. Secondly, Jesus has done something so true to his nature that they can no longer fail to recognize him – he has offered hospitality and welcomed them into his table fellowship.

And what do we think, 2000 years later, hearing this story – one among many of the disciples encountering the risen Jesus? Does it make sense to us? Do we believe it because we credit the source from which it comes – the Bible? Do we doubt it because it goes against what we understand of the physical realities of death? Do we flop back and forth between belief and doubt as reason and faith wrestle for supremacy within us?

It’s worth mentioning here that, as the writer Anne Lamott points out, the opposite of faith is not doubt. The opposite of faith is certainty. No religious belief offers us certainty. I am far more certain of the truths of gravity, of a solar-centric planetary system, of the different states of H2O at different temperatures – far more certain of all of these than I am of the existence of the resurrected Christ. But none of these certain facts provides the motivation, the propelling force, of my life as does the doubt-filled and wonderful possibility of the resurrection.

This wonderful possibility feels worthy of trust partly because, though it takes us beyond the bounds of science it does not take us beyond the bounds of reason. Remember now that science isn’t the only tool we have for understanding the world around us. It is a tool that we can’t do without but it is joined in utility by, among others, history, philosophy, poetry, music and art, and by theology. Our reason does not only rest on what is discoverable in a laboratory, it also rests on what is comprehensible to the human imagination.

I have no scientific explanation to offer of the resurrection of Jesus Christ. Sorry! But I do have a theological explanation that makes sense to me and that is beautiful in the truth it offers.

This explanation begins with a theory that, from the outset, takes us outside the realm of the scientific. And this is that Jesus the Christ, the one who was crucified and the one who was resurrected, was incarnate God as well as incarnate human. This is why his death, among the millions of other unjust innocent deaths, is so important. This is not just the death of a finite creature whose end is inherent in their beginning – those beautiful wonders of dust – like us – who know that it is to dust that we will return. This was the death of the one who stands outside the finite, who is the very breath of life of every living being.

And this death was chosen by God, chosen by the ground of all being. Chosen as a way of experiencing what her created beings experience. Chosen as a way of showing death’s true nature – as beginning rather than ending. Chosen as a way of breaking in to – and breaking us out of – a cycle in which violence endlessly provokes violence. Chosen as a way of bringing forgiveness and peace into the centre of humanity’s being.

But God is life, and death cannot conquer life, even a chosen death. Jesus Christ could not be ultimately contained within the limits of the physical, finite universe. Just as we, finite creatures though we are, have lives whose meaning and purpose are not contained within an arc that ends in death.

Of course this cannot make sense to a materialist, for whom this material universe is the be all and end all of existence. But it can make sense to those of us willing to accept the possibility that truth is larger than the material. If we are willing to take the daring step of belief in God – and no one but you can decide if you are willing – then we should surely expect God in her love to choose to share our suffering and God in her limitlessness to break through that suffering to bring us new life. New life that is characterized by the fellowship that draws us together to break bread with one another, as once happened in a roadside inn near Emmaus.

And if you do take this step of belief then you have this wonderful possibility of resurrection to guide and motivate your own life. You have the understanding that God is on the side of abundant life, that defeat need never be final, that death is not the end. You can affirm that violence will never have the final word and that love will never be extinguished. You can gather together with others ready to take the risk of believing in a world that is better than the one we live in today. You can have the courage to go and be the change you long to see.

Do I think it’s important that you share the same understanding of the resurrection that I do? Not really. My finite reason and finite faith are quantum light years away from being infallible. And I don’t believe our loving creator God is waiting with a quiz to test us on the tenets of our faith at the end of our lives. What I do think is important is that you bring your reason and your faith into the same head space. That your questioning, wondering minds are engaged in your worship and faith-life just as they are in every other aspect of your experience. Don’t expect certainty in religion and don’t expect the end of doubt. Do expect wonder and mystery. Do expect the motivation to change the world. And do also, without fail, expect, and demand, reason.

Sunday, April 23
Sunday 11 am Sermon
Preacher: The Rev. Mary Carter Greene
Sermon from Sunday's 11 am Eucharist
Read sermon

The Rev. Mary Carter Greene’s sermon manuscript will be available soon.

Thursday, April 20
Evensong Sermon
Preacher: The Very Rev. Dr. Malcolm C. Young
Sermon from Thursday's Evensong service
Read sermon
Sunday, April 16
Easter Sunday – 6 pm Service
Preacher: The Rev. Jude Harmon
Sermon from the 6 p.m. Easter service
Read sermon
Sunday, April 16
Easter Sunday – 11 am Service
Preacher: The Rt. Rev. Marc Handley Andrus
Sermon from the Easter Day Eucharist
Read sermon

The Rt. Rev. Marc Handley Andrus’ sermon manuscript will be available soon.

Sunday, April 16
Easter Sunday – 8:30 am Service
Preacher: The Very Rev. Dr. Malcolm C. Young
The Gift of Resurrection
Read sermon


The Very Rev. Dr. Malcolm C. Young’s Easter sermon was read by Ellen-Clark King.


The Gift of Resurrection


“[Y]our life is hidden with Christ in God. When Christ who is your life is revealed, then you also will be revealed in glory” (Col. 3).

Alleluia. Christ is risen!

The former Archbishop of Canterbury Rowan Williams once wrote that the basic fact of Christianity is judgment. What if instead, at its heart, it is a gift?[1] This year to test this hypothesis the Cathedral chose “the Gift” as our theme.

The vast majority of our life happens in the secular world where who we are is determined by money, by what we have to exchange with others. But we also have an innate sense that we are more than our net worth. You are more than a consumer, or a provider for your family, or a worker. You are more than your job or what you accomplish in your career. You are more than what you make or buy.

A gift is something we cannot get through our own efforts. We cannot buy it or exchange it or acquire it through an act of will.[2] Our life is a gift that we can never fully understand. Love and transcendence are gifts too. When we lose our faith, resurrection is the restoration of the power of the gift of life and love in the face of our fear.

The great novelist Joseph Conrad (1857-1924) writes that, “The artist appeals to that part of our being… which is a gift and not an acquisition – and, therefore, more permanently enduring.”[3] This morning God also speaks to this part of us. Let me share three words about the gift of resurrection.

  1. The great Romantic poet John Keats (1795-1821) saw plenty of suffering before he died of tuberculosis at age 25. Still he writes that the world is not so much a “vale of tears” as a “vale of soul-making.”[4] My first word for today is darkness because darkness and tears are part of that soul-making.

When Mary Magdalene and the other Mary come to the tomb they arrive at dawn and they have lost everything.[5] They feel utterly distraught, afraid and hopeless. But they still are there. They have not run away from the suffering. They are true and faithful, loyal to their duty.

Being a priest for me has sometimes seemed like being constantly summoned into the darkness. I served for fourteen years as a priest in a relatively small town. When I first arrived no place had any particular meaning. When I departed I left behind a whole geography of tragedies.

Across from the fire station was the house where I visited my friend Jennifer, a forty-year-old professional opera singer. I saw her every week of the last year of her life before she died of Lou Gehrig’s disease. At the café in town a man told me that he was losing a job he loved. I was with dozens of families to say goodbye for the last time to loved ones at the VA Hospital. In every corner of town there were the houses and apartments where families talked to me about recent diagnoses of terminal diseases.

There is the freeway hotel where my friend began her affair. It was there that a teenager who I’d known since she was in elementary school overdosed. There was the central park where another friend told me about his affair and the regional park where a gentle quiet man I knew, suffering from depression and despair, had unsuccessfully tried to take his own life. On my last day at my office I could still see the faces of a family whose son had succumbed to his struggle with PTSD.

Every place I go in that town is so full of ghosts and so full of stories. There were indeed moments when God seemed far away. But the strangest thing to me is there are so many more times when we were gathered around a hospital bed, in the church, at a chance encounter on Main Street or at a funeral planning meeting when God felt tangibly present. Like the two Mary’s Jesus has surprised me in the dark places of my life.

  1. My second word is hiddenness. During World War II German spies in Latin America would photographically shrink a page of text down to a dot less than one millimeter in diameter. They would then hide this microdot on a period in an otherwise ordinary letter. The FBI spotted the first of these microdots in 1941 after being tipped off to look for a something shiny like film on a note.[6]

Sometimes being a Christian in today’s secular society feels like this. Each of us might look like just another dot on the page but we carry a much greater message of hope than is initially be obvious.

The Apostle Paul writes, “your life is hidden in Christ” (Col. 3). He uses the Greek word krupto which means to hide and is related to our words cryptography and encryption. The gift of resurrection is not something that we see. It happens invisibly. In the beginning of all the resurrection accounts Jesus is hidden from the friends who seek him. Indeed often our connection with God is hidden from those around us and sometimes even we have a hard time seeing it.

The Greek language has two words for life. The word bios (like biology) is limited life. It is a particular individual example of life. It is life that dies. On the other hand, zoē is life that endures as, “a thread that runs through all bios-life and is not broken when a particular [being] perishes.”[7]

The life you have in Christ is zoē. It connects you to what is eternal and runs through all of creation. You may not always be able to see it but it is there whenever you need it. In all of time there has never been anyone quite like you. Everywhere you go you bring a connection to the source of life that is always making the world new.

  1. My last word is joy. When the two Mary’s go to the tomb an angel like lightning appears out of heaven shaking the world. The tomb’s guards quake with fear until they became like dead men. In the midst of the strangeness of the angel sitting on the stone, the shock and fear, the women are overcome with “great joy.” They are literally running to tell the disciples when suddenly Jesus meets everyone and says, “rejoice.” When you are with Jesus you are already where you are going to.

The rejoicing that began then is still going on, echoing through the centuries to this very moment. As the sun streams through these beautiful windows and we break bread, as the Men and Boy’s choir draws us as close to heaven as is possible on this earth – Jesus is present right here with us.

There have been dark times and places when the lamp of faith seemed to be burning out. Nikolai Ivanovich Bukharin (1888-1938) first became famous as one of the Russian Communist leaders of the Bolshevik Revolution in 1917. An intellectual and the editor of the Soviet newspaper Pravda, there is an apocryphal story that in 1930 he delivered a lecture to a huge crowd on the subject of atheism.

His talk lasted an hour. Full of insults and philosophical arguments, he concluded saying, “Therefore there is no God; Jesus Christ never existed, there is no such thing as the Holy Spirit… The future belongs to the State; and the State is in the hands of the Party. Are there any questions?”

He looked out to a silent crowd whose faith seemed absolutely refuted. An old priest raised his hand, came up on stage next to the communist leader. He looked slowly at the audience from one side of the auditorium to the other. Then in a quiet voice he said, “Christos voskres! Christ is Risen!”

As one the whole crowd stood up and shouted. “Alleluia. The Lord is risen indeed!”[8]

Perhaps Rowan Williams is right about Christianity and judgment. But I don’t think he is. For me the gift of resurrection is not about something that happened long ago. It is a whole way of praying, living and serving others today. I feel the presence of Jesus in all my experiences of joy – at my daughter’s sixteenth birthday celebration, even on those sparkling spring days riding bike through the city or catching waves at Ocean Beach.

Karl Barth says that at the heart of Easter is the disciples’ experience and our own. “[W]hen they lost [Jesus] through death they were sought and found by him as the resurrected [one].”[9] Jesus finds us in our “soul-making” and in our darkness. Jesus finds us when the zoē, the life that connects us to the divine, has become invisible to us. Jesus finds us in the joy we feel together this morning.


Alleluia. Christ is Risen!

[1] I have Williams’ comment in notes I made fifteen years ago. I’m not sure what sermon or book this comes from.

[2] So much of my understanding of this topic has been shaped by Lewis Hyde. This line comes from Lewis Hyde, The Gift: Imagination: Imagination and the Erotic Life of Poetry (NY: Vintage, 1979) xi.

[3] Cited on Ibid., xi.

[4] Ibid., 191.

[5] The Greek word epiphoskousē means “to dawn” and is literally to “shine upon.”

[6] Simon Singh, The Code: The Science of Secrecy from Ancient Egypt to Quantum Cryptography (NY: Anchor Books, 1999) 7.

[7] Hyde, 32.

[8] Jeremy Clark-King told me this story and found the following material on the Internet.

Nikolai Ivanovich Bukharin was a Russian Communist leader who took part in the BolshevikRevolution 1917, was editor of the Soviet newspaper Pravda (which by the way means truth), and was a full member of the Politburo. His works on economics and political science are still read today.

There is a story told about a journey he took from Moscow to Kiev in 1930 to address a huge assembly on the subject of atheism. Addressing the crowd he aimed his heavy artillery at Christianity hurling insults, argument, and proof against it. An hour later he was finished. He looked out at what seemed to be the smoldering ashes of the crowd’s faith. “Are there any questions?” Bukharin demanded. Deafening silence filled the auditorium but then one old priest approached the platform and mounted the lectern standing near the communist leader. He surveyed the crowd first to the left then to the right. Finally he shouted the ancient greeting known well in the Russian Orthodox Church: Христос воскрес! Christos voskres! Christ is Risen

En masse the crowd arose as one and the response came crashing like the sound of thunder: Воистину воскрес! Voistinu voskres! He is Risen Indeed!

It has also been set in other places:

During the time of the Cold War a local political official in one of the Slavic nations oppressed by communism decided to have a town meeting….


“I am reminded of a story from 1918 in Russia, when the new Communist commissars were fanning across the countryside preaching the gospel of Marx with evangelistic zeal to peasants who had been…

From Charles Rush in 2007

Lesslie Newgin quoted it as a “well-known story” in 1968

and N. T. Wright “Following Jesus”:

“The communist lecturer paused before summing up. His large audience listened fearfully. ‘Therefore,’ he said, ‘there is no God; Jesus Christ never existed’ there is no such thing as a Holy Spirit. The Church is an oppressive institution, and anyways it’s out of date. The future belongs to the State; and the State is in the hands of the Party.’

He was about to sit down when an old priest near the front stood up. ‘May I say two words?’ he asked. (It’s three in English, but he was of course speaking Russian.) The lecturer, disdainfully, gave him permission. He turned, looked out over the crowd, and shouted: ‘Christ is risen!’ Back came the roar of the people: ‘He is risen indeed!’ They’d been saying it every Easter for a thousand years; why should they stop now?”

[9] Karl Barth, Church Dogmatics Index with Aids for the Preacher (NY: T&T Clark, 1977) 383.

What's Happening at Grace Cathedral?

Connect with Us