Listen to the Latest Services

Sunday, June 17
Sunday 11 a.m. Eucharist
Download service leaflet
Thursday, June 21
Thursday 5:15 Evensong
Download service leaflet

Listen to Featured Sermons

Wednesday, June 20
The Vine Sermon
Preacher: The Rev. Jude Harmon
Read sermon
Sunday, June 17
Sunday 11 a.m. Sermon
Preacher: The Very Rev. Dr. Alan Jones, Dean Emeritus
Sermon from Sunday's 11 a.m. Eucharist
Read sermon

The Very Rev. Alan Jones’s sermon manuscript will be available soon.

Past Sermons

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

Thursday, March 29
Maundy Thursday Sermon
Preacher: The Rev. Canon Mark E. Stanger
Sermon from Thursday's Maundy Thursday Service
Read sermon
Tuesday, March 27
Chrism Mass Sermon
Preacher: The Rt. Rev. Marc Handley Andrus
Sermon from Tuesday afternoon's Chrism Mass
Read sermon
Sunday, March 25
He Falls to You
Preacher: The Very Rev. Dr. Malcolm C. Young
Sermon from Sunday's 11 a.m. Eucharist
Read sermon


“Hosanna! Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord” (Mk. 11)!


  1. This week engulfed by the atmospheric river storm my son and I surfed alone in the polluted ocean. He was back for college spring break. Although it would have made more sense to stay home, we were there mostly for father-son time. The rain buffeted us. The winds howled offshore.

Dropping into the last impossibly steep ocean wave of the day, racing down the line, I stepped out of time and space. It felt as if the wind as much as the wave was holding me up, hurtling me above everything through catastrophe toward shore.

Later we ate sandwiches in the dryness and warmth of our car. On the way home he shared East African music with the refrain, “Mbele ya Mungu. Mbele ya Mungu. Mbele ya Mungu.”

These Kiswahili words mean “in front of God.” Indeed right then and in our best moments we feel how beautiful it is to walk before God. In this great cathedral with the light streaming through these magnificent windows, with the pillars that seem to anchor us to the heart of the earth and our choir which elevates us to heaven, we feel a hint of what it means to stand in front of God.

Mbele ya Mungu. We walk before God. We go where God goes. God is part of our real life, our thoughts, decisions and actions. We are never alone, never cut off from God’s love and mercy. At any moment we can turn to God. We can ask for direction and guidance.

When you find yourself in conflict, take a break from framing your next argument, or rehearsing your grievance, and in your heart ask God for help (homework?). Experience the miraculous in this way. Let God carry some of the weight as you seek reconciliation.

Even more frequently we have the chance to reach out to God in gratitude. We often get so lost in the busyness of our life that we miss the gifts that God constantly shares with us. Circumstances in his life and career made Henry David Thoreau (1817-1862) realize this. He asked his friend Ralph Waldo Emerson if he could build a little house on his property just outside of town by Walden Pond. He lived there for two years spending his days listening to God. In his Journal Thoreau calls himself a “watchman” whose “profession is to be always on the alert to find God in nature…”[1]

  1. Mbele ya Mungu. We go before God. Hosanna in the highest. But this is not the whole story, not in our lives and not on Palm Sunday. Today we remember that we go before God because of Jesus. We remember that glorious moment when the people of Jerusalem laid palms across his path. But we also walk before him through the agony of his friends’ betrayal, his humiliation and suffering.

Yesterday Ellen called us to the cathedral to pray for the victims and survivors of gun violence. Then we joined a massive demonstration at City Hall. I was grateful to see so many friends here. The day brought back memories from a spring day just after our high school classes let out when we lost two boys. One was stabbed to death in our parking lot and the other went to prison for this crime. Even today when I go near that place I feel the weight of the tragedy so acutely. As I get older I think of what those boys might have done and been. I wonder how much their parents, sisters and brothers continue to suffer.

Increasing numbers of people have been drawn into tragedies like this. Since the Sandy Hook shooting in December 2012, 438 others have been shot in 200 school shootings (138 killed).[2] We cannot even begin to imagine this suffering.

Jesus empties himself out to be part of this world. He subjects himself to the terrifying forces of cruel ignorance. He gives his life to set us on a more humane path, to draw us home to God. Jesus says, “blessed are the merciful… blessed are the meek… blessed are the peacemakers” (Mt. 5). He invites the most despised people of his society into his life and shares meals with them. His humility and love are so great. The Apostle Paul says, “let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus” (Phil. 2). Because of Jesus, with him, we walk before God in an altogether different way. Mbele ya Mungu.

This week a cathedral trustee came to my office to give me feedback on my leadership. In keeping with the spirit of our year of truth she spoke candidly and our conversation was tremendously. At the end of our meeting she thanked me for my general attitude of joy. But, she said, we cannot always be happy. In her heart I think she was asking what do we make of life’s tragedies?

The Buddhists are right we suffer more because of our attachment to the world, because of the way we love. For me this is not a reason to love any less. Each of us will face terrible suffering, tragedies that we may not even be able imagine on a day like this. But with all my heart I believe that our pain is encompassed by the love and presence of Jesus.

At the beginning of this holy week I want to share a long excerpt from a poem by Leonard Cohen (1934-2016). On a radio broadcast he calls it, “a small prayer.” For me it is about Jesus, who walks and suffers with us every day and at the same time knows he is carried by God.

“In the eyes of men he falls, and in his own eyes too. He falls from his high place, he trips on his achievement. He falls to you, he falls to know you. It is sad, they say. See his disgrace, say the ones at his heel. But he falls radiantly toward the light…”

“They cannot see who lifts him as he falls, or how his falling changes, and he himself bewildered till his heart cries out to bless the one who holds him in his falling. And in his fall he hears his heart cry out, his heart explains why he is falling, why he had to fall, and he gives over to the fall.”

“Blessed are you, clasp of the falling. He falls into the sky, he falls into the light, none can hurt him as he falls. Blessed are you, shield of the falling. Wrapped in his fall, concealed within his fall, he finds the place, he is gathered in.”

“While his hair streams back and his clothes tear in the wind, he is held up, comforted, he enters into the place of his fall. Blessed are you, embrace of the falling, foundation of the light, master of the human accident.”

This morning at the Lord’s table as we go hurtling through catastrophe toward shore, step with me out of time and space. Let us pray for each other as we walk before God to the cross and beyond. Let the same mind be in you that was in Christ Jesus. Hosanna in the highest heaven. Mbele ya Mungu. Blessed are you shield of the falling.


#LeonardCohen, #PalmSunday

[1] Malcolm Clemens Young, The Spiritual Journal of Henry David Thoreau (Macon, GA: Mercer University Press, 2007) 23. Thoreau, Henry David Journal ed. John C. Broderick and Robert Sattelmeyer. Volume 4 (Princeton University Press, 1981-) 315, 55.

[2] Jugal K. Patel, “After Sandy Hook, More than 400 People Have Been Shot in Over 200 School Shootings,” The New York Times. 15 February 2018.

Thursday, March 22
Meetings with Children
Preacher: The Very Rev. Dr. Malcolm C. Young
Sermon from Thursday's 5:15 p.m. Evensong
Read sermon


“When the chief priests and the scribes saw the amazing things that [Jesus] did, and heard the children crying out in the temple, ‘Hosanna to the Son of David,’ they became angry and said to him, ‘Do you hear what these are saying?’ Jesus said to them. “Yes…” (Mt. 21).

Beneath and behind words, before and beyond sound, lies a language. This is the language of your body, your heart, your intuition. When you begin to really listen, you realize how vulnerable human beings are. We are so easily hurt. In a second, in a moment of inattention, in a wrong turn, or even with a single word, we can be damaged beyond repair.

So we build big things. We gather nations and armies. We assemble vast companies and computer networks. We construct one thousand foot towers like the Salesforce Tower which can be seen a hundred miles away from here. We build temples and great cathedrals like this one. These distract us from the brute fact that life is short, our hold on this world is tenuous.

This vulnerability is the reason for our social graces for the unspoken rules that govern how we interact with each other. We try to protect ourselves from this knowledge about our human weakness even if it simultaneously erects a barrier between us.

When Jesus enters the temple he breaks these social rules. He wants us to see who we really are and so he upsets things. Ordinary people come to the temple to make sacrifices. In order to pay for the animals, bankers are there to exchange money. Jesus physically overturns their tables. In this way he does not just speak to their minds but to their whole selves. So often we treat this story as if it were a parable about capitalism or greed.

According to this version of the story Jesus does not just heal the blind and the lame. In an amazing moment the children there see what he is really doing. They recognize who he really is and cry out “Hosanna to the Son of David” (Mt. 21)! This angers the adults, the ones who maintain the greatness of the temple, the ones perpetuating the illusion of invulnerability.

A wise theologian named Louis-Marie Chauvet writes, “To become a child… is to learn… to recognize others as like us in their very otherness; and simultaneously to consent to this radical otherness, outside of which there is no likeness.”[1]

Tonight we celebrate the ministry of St. Dorothy’s Rest a retreat and camp that exists and continues entirely because of surprising moments when adults and children really listened to each other.

It is named after Dorothy Pitkin Lincoln who died of tuberculosis at the age of eight. Her mother’s deep love led her to care for many children. One day she brought a young boy who had lost his leg in an elevator accident to a parade for President McKinley. There she introduced him to Melvin C. Meeker who owned a resort called Camp Meeker near the Russian River. Meeker gave the land for St. Dorothy’s Rest and the Lincoln’s cared for thousands of children who came there to experience healing in the natural world.[2]

This inspiring work continues every summer. This is a place where it is safe to be vulnerable. It is one corner of this great earth where spiritual healing is always happening.

Beneath and behind words, before and beyond sound, lies a language. This is the language of your body, your heart, your intuition. This week in your encounters with children, with each other, with complete strangers, I encourage you to listen in the way that the founders of St. Dorothy’s Rest did.

Open your hearts to receive God’s surprising grace. And may the love of Jesus reconcile us to our vulnerability and inspire us with new joy.


[1] Mitchell, Nathan D. Meeting Mystery (New York: Orbis Books, 2006) 62. Citing Louis-Marie Chauvet, Symbol and Sacrament: A Sacramental Reinterpretation of Christian Existence tr. Patrick Madigan and Madeleine Beaumont (Collegeville, Minn.: Liturgical Press, 1995) 508.

[2] Mary Judith Robinson From Gold Rush to Millennium: 150 Years of the Episcopal Diocese of California 1849-2000 (SF: The Episcopal Diocese of California, 2001) 43-5.

Sunday, March 18
Sunday 11 a.m. Sermon
Preacher: The Rev. Dr. Susanna Singer
Sermon from Sunday's 11 a.m. Eucharist
Read sermon

The Rev. Dr. Susanna Singer’s sermon manuscript will be available soon.

Sunday, March 18
Sunday 8:30 a.m. Sermon
Preacher: The Rev. Dr. Ellen Clark-King
Sermon from Sunday's 8:30 a.m. Service
Read sermon

What's Happening at Grace Cathedral?

Connect with Us