Thirteenth Sunday after Pentecost
September 7, 2025
Mark 7:31-37

The full worship service is available on the Trinity YouTube channel. The audio of this sermon is available here. The service uses the 1892 Book of Common Prayer as the parish paid homage to those parishioners in 1900.

And so as we gather on this day, to remember. Though none of us were there, we have a sense of what happened. The rising water, the howling wind, the screams of terror. September 8, 1900. A Saturday.

And so what we do today is not only to remember, but we gather one hundred and twenty-five years later, to offer the prayers and the worship that they didn’t get to on that Sunday. We say these prayers that are both so familiar and so strange. We worship in a place we know but a place that would have been hardly recognizable on that Sunday one hundred and twenty five years ago. Not only are praying for ourselves, but we are praying on their behalf. This is one of the great gifts of church. The communion of the saints, Trinity Church itself, our fellowship in this place transcends time. It is as if we are with them, and they are with us, even today. So we stand in solidarity with our forebears, all those years ago, and offer the prayers they didn’t get to on that Sunday after the storm.

And because of who I am, I cannot help but think of that priest. The Rev. Charles M. Beckwith, the third rector of Trinity Church. I feel a sort of bond with him, as I do with all my predecessors. Mr. Beckwith said these prayers that we are using today. He would have known and loved this place, as I do today. So I am here today to say these prayers, to preach the good news of Jesus, to do the things that he didn’t get to do on that Sunday after the storm. I hold him in my heart, as I consider the worry he must have felt on that Sunday morning. I know the questions he would have been fretting over, because they are the questions I would have been fretting over. How many people had he lost? How many of his friends and parishioners were gone, how many more left desolate? How many funerals would he have to do? What would become his ministry? Could they rebuild?

Because, as we know, the aftermath was awful. Death was everywhere. A cleanup job of enormous proportions. Can you imagine the post-traumatic stress that would have been pulsing through this church whenever they did gather again? On this day, we feel the weight of it all.

But, the people of Trinity love their church. And they wanted to rebuild. To rebuild this place of prayer, this living memorial to God. So some time after the storm, the church sent Mr. Beckwith on a fundraising tour, to get the money to rebuild the church. And they got the bishop to be the substitute priest. The Bishop of Texas, George Kinsolving himself came here to run Trinity Church. Go over to Eaton Hall after the service, and you’ll see a big plaque that lists all the assistant rectors. No kidding, we list the Bishop of Texas as one of our assistant clergy. I think it should still be that way.

But the real question is “why?” Why rebuild after the storm? Why bother the bishop with putting this place back together? Why send your priest on a fundraising tour? Why? I cannot impress this upon you all enough. Trinity Church is special. People all across this Episcopal Church know who we are. We are not the biggest church. We are not the richest church. We are not the oldest church. But we are among the most beautiful, the grandest, and the most resilient. And that’s why we are here today. We are here because the people of this parish have built and rebuilt, and prayed and worshiped, for all these years. We are here, because they passed on their faith in the Lord Jesus; despite all they went through.

Don’t hear what I’m not saying. I’m not trying to sugarcoat the horror of that storm, one hundred and twenty five years ago. And not just them, but for the millions and millions of victims of every natural disaster. Though good can come out of it, I do not believe that God chooses to inflict that pain on anybody. And so we must ask the question – does God care? 

Right there, buried in the gospel lesson for today, we get a hint at the answer. The people brought to Jesus a deaf man who had an impediment in his speech. And they begged Jesus to do something about it. And so he does, Jesus takes the man aside and opens his ears and releases his tongue. This is the most astounding thing to me. That the Lord God, the maker of the entire cosmos, the One who created time itself, would care for just one man. That God, the Almighty, bothers to do this thing, for this one man. This is the grace of God. That the Lord God Almighty would love just one man. And it’s what gives me hope, hope despite all the horrors of this world. That somehow, in some way, if the Lord God cares for one, then the Lord God cares for all. I don’t know how God will do it, I don’t know when that will get worked out, but I have sure and certain confidence that because the Lord Jesus has mercy on one, then the Lord Jesus has mercy on all. Even for every single person who was washed away and forgotten, one hundred and twenty five years ago.

After Jesus helps that man, and he’s able to hear and speak, the whole crowd was astounded beyond measure. Even though Jesus was trying to keep it quiet, they kept telling everyone about it. The times are different, but the story is the same. This man was rebuilt by the Lord God, and all the people could do was celebrate. The Lord God provided for Trinity Church and they rebuilt, so we are here today to hold them in our hearts.

And just as we are here because of their faith all those years ago, we all should remember the future. So that one day, some day, a congregation will be standing in here thanking God for us. Thanking God for what we have done in our own time to pass on the faith. That is my hope, that is my prayer. That maybe they will recreate what it was like in 2025, and they will marvel at us. That we had the courage and the faith and the resilience and the spirit of generosity to keep going. That even with the pandemics and storms and hardship of our own day, we still went to church, said our prayers, cared for each other, and ensured that this place remains a living memorial to the grace of God.

Because, one day, none of us will be here in this room; as each of those people who were here all those years ago faded away. Bishop Kinsolving got the church rebuilt, and they had Easter services in here in 1901, which is pretty amazing. But he soon moved back to Austin. In 1902, Mr. Beckwith got elected as the Bishop of Alabama, and Trinity had to call a new priest. They held their funerals, but soon enough they started doing baptisms and weddings again. And Sunday by Sunday, they gathered for worship. And over the course of time, generation passed to generation. And here we are today. 

On this Sunday, one hundred and twenty five years on. If I was Mr. Beckwith, I would be astounded beyond measure that the place he loved is still here That you are here. For the Lord Jesus has done everything well, he even makes the deaf to hear, the mute to speak, and he has given grace, beyond measure, to this sacred place.