"Legacy" • Elizabeth Braatz | Divine Feminine: Day 21 | December 22, 2024 • Advent III

Last week after the service, I walked up to Nathan and told him that I felt absolutely no pressure to deliver a sermon on his day of farewell. No pressure at all.

Nonetheless, I am very honored to be up here today today delivering a sermon on such a bittersweet day. I never imagined Nathan leaving. He is my friend, and I care for him deeply.

What I have selfishly sat with is that part of the reason I love Trinity so much is because I know that Nathan's here.

Nathan understood me when others didn't.

He empowered me to be me, unapologetically.

We've prayed together. He sees me fully.

Saying farewell to any type of constant can be heartbreaking, but with heartbreak comes a new beginning.

Today's reading is quite profound. After Mary has learned that she is pregnant with Jesus, she hurries to visit Elizabeth who is pregnant with John the Baptist.

It's important to understand that during this time, being pregnant out of wedlock was extremely dangerous, but Mary felt called to be with Elizabeth, even in the face of grave danger. While Mary and Elizabeth were together, Mary responds to Elizabeth with a song of praise known as the Magnificat.

She glorifies God for choosing her, someone as lowly as herm for such an important role. Mary praises God for his holiness, his mercy, and his strength. For doing mighty things for the humble and the oppressed.

"He has brought down the powerful from their thrones and lifted up the lowly. He has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty."

This reading reflects the deep and profound faith Mary has in God's Kingdom and his promise.

The Magnificat illustrates the best of justice and hope for those who believe in God's will, even when God's will seems and feels impossible, like a tunnel with no light at the end.

I know many of us feel this way now more than ever.

Many months ago, I was standing in this exact same place delivering a sermon during some of the darkest days in my life.

My soon-to-be wife and I were finishing up our graduate school programs at Portland State University. I'm sure many if not all of you know what was going on a few months ago on campus.

Simultaneously, my fiancée and I were finishing up our Catechesis class, and I was asked to deliver the sermon, something I had never done before.

But I walked up these steps and I delivered a sermon that was highly political.

I did it in remembrance of those who are no longer here with us, those who cannot speak, those who never had the chance to speak and will never have the chance to speak.

I had to reckon with myself every night, if I would forgive myself if I didn't use my voice to uplift those who never had the chance, so I asked myself the same question while I pondered what to do, what to say, what message to deliver to you all.

I thought about Mary's fearlessness, and the path she took to visit Elizabeth, all doing so to send good news and to serve.

I thought about Nathan, our clergy, our guest preachers who dare to do what so many churches will not do, which is to tell the truth, to be honest, to be kind, to exemplify acceptance, radical hospitality, to love unconditionally, to love who you love all in Christ's name.

At Trinity, we dare to be different in order to illustrate not only the best of Christianity but the best in humanity.

That's the legacy I want to leave behind, and that is surely a fraction of the legacy Nathan has left behind, that we will carry on.

We hear Mary tell Elizabeth that for all generations to come, she will be remembered as blessed, for the mighty one has done great things for her and holy in his name.

As I have personally delved deeper into my faith, I have grown to feel more connected to Mary, not just because she gave birth to Jesus, but because of her devotedness to God and her unwavering faith in God's will.

This development and connection with Mary has altered how I remember Mary and her legacy.

It is hard to think about Nathan leaving, but once I get past my sadness and selfishness of trying to figure out how to convince him to stay, the legacy he has given us is clear as day.

Whether or not Nathan is here, it is on us to carry on the legacies of vulnerability, acceptance, justice, compassion, radical hospitality, love, and a commitment to one another.

Because together, we rise.

Over two years ago, I walked through these big red doors, and I sat in the very very back pew.

I came alone, because my fiancée grew up around churches in a community that weaponized the teachings of Christ to make her feel that who she loved was a sin.

But I sat in the pew and I listened to Nathan preach about Darcel, who was an infamous drag queen who changed the city.

I sat in the back with warm tears streaming down my face, and I immediately knew that this was the one.

At first I came to church alone. My fiancée really did not like churches, so for a while church was just a me thing.

Another Sunday went by and I sat in the back pew with tears streaming down my face, so naturally when I came home my fiancée asked why I had been crying, and all I could do is show her the sermon that Nathan had given,

My fiancée came to this Cathedral because of Nathan.

She attends this cathedral now because of you all and her faith.

She was baptized into the Episcopal faith earlier this year, and she is the first to wake up on Sunday saying, "It's time to get ready for church."

We are undoubtedly some of the youngest churchgoers besides the children in Godly Play, but we wouldn't change that for what we have here.

I couldn't help but see the parallels of this reading to my own life, the life I share with my partner.

Mary embarks on her journey to visit Elizabeth because she felt called to do so, to share the good news and to share God's promise and will with Elizabeth.

I felt called to attend Trinity, and I did not have the intention of having my partner join me, because our journey in faith is exactly that: our own.

But I've always wondered if my partner felt called to see Nathan. I wonder how her journey and faith might have looked different if she never saw Nathan's sermon, if I had never cried warm tears while I sat in the back pews, if I hadn't walked through the big red doors.

I have many wonders but what I know is that the spirit guided us here, to our second home, to our second family.

Something I learned in Catechesis is that it's not just about the Dean (sorry Nathan).

Even without Nathan every Sunday, we come back to each other other. We are called to come back to each other, even on cold rainy days where our comfy couch looks more appealing, with the flexibility of watching church on our TV, my fiancée pulls me out of bed. We enjoy breakfast together, and we walk up these steps to the big red doors.

And now we sit in the middle section together, with warm tears streaming down our faces.

I know we are all wondering what is next, and as someone who likes to know things, I really don't know what's next for us as a congregation. I don't know how our dynamics will change, what I–

[aside] bless you–

What I know will not change is gathering in Kempton Hall after service and hearing the children's laughter running through the labyrinth.

What will not change our devoted ministries.

What will not change is our radical hospitality.

What will not change is our calling to come home every Sunday.

I'm really excited for Nathan's farewell, because there is nothing more powerful than seeing the people we love forge their own path, even when it is hard to know what lies ahead.

Just like Mary did.

We not only have each other, but we have a phenomenal clergy, dedicated and supportive staff, the most wonderful volunteers, and, in my opinion, the world's most amazing choir.

And we have an incredibly strong congregation.

I don't know what is next, but I'm not scared, and I implore you all to also not be scared or nervous about the future.

We have each other.

We have a legacy.

And together we will rise. Amen. [applause]