The Rev. Noah Van Niel

The Chapel of the Cross

May 24^th, 2020

Easter VII (A): Acts 1:6-14; Psalm 68: 3-10; 1 Peter 4:12-14; 5:6-11; John 17: 1-11

            Of all the social losses this pandemic has caused us, one of the most disappointing, has been the loss of graduation season. Schools are doing their best, but I’m missing the caps, the gowns, the pomp, the circumstance. Especially, this weekend, Memorial Day weekend, which, where I’m from, is the pinnacle of graduation season. Seemingly every college and university in the Boston area—and there are a lot—would squeeze their commencement ceremonies into this holiday weekend, bringing an air of celebration to the entire city. Alas, this year, the atmosphere is anything but celebratory. But, though we have had to forgo most of the traditional elements of graduation this year, there is one aspect of the graduation season that has persisted, even in the virtual realm: the speeches. Oh the speeches. Some are great. Some are funny. Some are endless. But say what you will about them, people go crazy for them. They become headline news: who said what, where? People are hungry, it seems, this year maybe more than ever, to soak up the wisdom offered to our young people as they head out into an uncertain and at times dangerous world.

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The Rev. Noah Van Niel

April 26^th, 2020

The Chapel of the Cross

Easter III: Acts 2:14a, 36-41; Psalm 116: 1-3, 10-17; 1 Peter 1:17-23; Luke 24: 13-35

To view video of the sermon click here.

            My grandfather was a Professor of History at the University of Hawaii for many years. As a historian, he loved stories. Now I love my Grandpa, but when we would visit their home in Honolulu he would hold my brother and me hostage at the dinner table for hours after the last plate was cleared, telling, and retelling, stories from his life. I can still remember my legs affixing to the pleather seats in the sweet, humid Hawaiian air, longing to be released so I could go play on the lanai that overlooked the majesty of Diamondhead crater and out onto the Pacific Ocean. But alas, there was no escape until well after dark. Grandpa’s research specialty was Southeast Asia, particularly Indonesia, a country that had just gained its independence from Holland when he was beginning his work. My grandfather had served in the South Pacific in the Second World War, and his family had come to the States from Holland in the early 20^th century so Indonesia was a perfect point of focus for him. He would tell us stories from both those countries and his time working and studying in each of them. Stories like how my father was born in a tiny Seventh Day Adventist hospital in Bandung while Grandpa was over there doing research for his dissertation. And stories about his colorful family in Holland, who, as new immigrants to America, made him dress up as a little Dutch boy to sell tulip bulbs in Cleveland, Ohio. The Netherlands remained a second home for my Grandfather throughout his life. He would return regularly for research, and a good portion of his time was spent in the small town of Leiden. Leiden is famous for two things: its world class University, and for being the hometown of 17^th century artistic legend Rembrandt van Rijn. It was from Leiden that Rembrandt helped launch what became known as the Golden Age of Dutch painting. And there is a Rembrandt Museum around the corner from the University that my grandfather would frequent, kindling a lifelong love of the Dutch Masters. A love I have inherited.

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