Abiding in God’s Love
Readings: Acts 8:24-40; 1 John 4:7-12; John 15:1-8; Psalm 22:24-30
A few days ago a friend sent me an email about trees and their ability to survive and even thrive under adverse conditions. There was a picture of a tree that survived a Tsunami. Another one was growing in the cleft of a rock. The roots of another had spread out over the sidewalk. It brought to mind an experience I had as a child. I was at my bedroom window during a thunderstorm, when the crabapple tree in our backyard was struck by lightning. It was an awesome sight. It split the tree in half and sent chunks of wood hurtling through the air. The next day we cleaned up the chunks of wood. A typical rectory, no one really got around to dealing with the stump of the tree. It was just left to rot. A couple of years later we noticed that a small tree had started to grow out of the stump. By the time I moved away from home, the tree had grown up and was once again producing fruit. It is for me a powerful resurrection image. More than that, it resonates with me about the imagery of the vine and branches in today’s Gospel and about our need to abide in God.
The vine and the branches is a beautiful image of our relationship to God. It comes to us from the Old Testament where Israel is pictured as a noble vine brought out of Egypt by God and planted in a new land. However the vine failed to bring forth fruit. With Jesus, the true vine, a new Israel emerges.
The vine, its branches and the vine grower, are images that point to our responsibility in carrying out God’s work. Jesus, the vine, the one who nurtures, is the one in whom we abide. The writer of John’s Gospel gives us several ways in which we abide in God. That lovely comforting verse, “In my father’s house are many mansions” gives us a beautiful example of how we abide in God. Just as the mansions are abiding places, so the vine image is another way of talking about a place where one is deeply at home, nurtured by God, loved by God, ready to be fruitful. We are the branches. Our responsibility is to stay connected to Jesus, the vine so that we can bear fruit. God, the vine grower does the pruning so that we can bear even more fruit. So the question today is, are we branches? Is our ministry being fruitful?
How do we share by word and action the good news of God in Jesus Christ? That is the ongoing message of Easter. It is the theme of the readings throughout the season. More importantly, it is the message of our baptismal covenant, the purpose for which we come together Sunday by Sunday. What a wonderful illustration of the power of sharing the Christian faith we have in the story of Philip and the Ethiopian Eunuch! The angel of God led Philip to a deserted road between Jerusalem and Gaza. A eunuch was returning from a pilgrimage to Jerusalem. Sitting in his chariot, he was reading from the prophet Isaiah. He was struggling with its meaning. And Philip took the opportunity to speak to him of Jesus, the suffering servant. The man asked to be baptized. Philip baptized him. The story ended abruptly with Philip suddenly finding himself in the town of Azotus and the eunuch going on his way rejoicing at his new found faith.
You have to know that many things could have kept the eunuch from experiencing faith. Because he was a eunuch, he had already experienced exclusion from the religious community. Jewish law excluded them from taking part in the assembly of the Lord. They were not considered acceptable in God's family. Yet the eunuch, through Philip's ministering, was able to affirm his faith, "Look, here is water! What is to prevent me from being baptized?" That truly is a wonderful step of faith. He was an outcast, one of the marginalized of his society, yet Philip reached out to him and opened the Scriptures to him. It is a wonderful statement about the inclusivity of God's kingdom. His inclusion was dependent, not on his acceptability, but on his faith, on his attachment to the vine. God's love is a living experience.
Philip could have been an obstacle to the eunuch's faith. In every part of the story he is a true disciple, a branch bearing fruit, one who follows God's lead, one who abides in God. He was open to God's call because he was actively searching for the place in which he could be useful. He found the right approach. He was sensitive to the needs of the eunuch. He began with what the man understood. He led him gently to the point where he could affirm his faith.
The image of Jesus, the vine, and God the vinegrower helps us to understand the demands of our baptismal covenant. It is a vivid image of God and of our relationship with Christ. It shows us our place in the relationship. It reminds us of our responsibility as branches to bear fruit. We are the branches attached to Jesus, the vine. God does the pruning so that we will be more effective in our ministry.
Are we branches, channels of God’s love, like Philip? Or are we blocks and impediments to the faith, simply getting in the way of others experiencing God’s love? Are we open to the Spirit? It is God’s Spirit that informs our experience of God. It is God’s Spirit that transforms us. The Spirit brings new ideas, new ways, new life, resurrection to our faith community and to the lives of each of us.
The Spirit enthuses us so that we are enabled to share our faith and bear fruit.
We are called to faithful action. Many things can keep us from living out that faith. Fear of our own inadequacies can keep us from speaking out about our faith. It is easy to become apathetic in our highly secularized world. We can begin to think that we are unable to make any difference anyway. We can become "dead wood" which needs to be pruned back. I always think that it is wise to remember the words of St. Francis who says “Preach the Gospel; use words when necessary.” It isn’t about grabbing people by the lapels and dragging them kicking and screaming into the church. It isn’t about nagging people. It is about living our lives faithfully. It is about seeing Christ in others. It is about allowing Christ to be seen in us.
The Gospel underlines the necessity of fruitfulness in our lives. How do we bear fruit? We have been cut away from the forest of sin, redeemed from its ugly consequences and grafted into the vine, into Christ. We are not called to bask in his glow, to wonder at his miracles, to anticipate all the good that God has in store for us. We are called to bear fruit, to accomplish God's purposes. When we abide in Christ and invite him to abide in us, the Spirit is able to work in our lives and in the lives of those around us. Then we cannot help but share our faith with others. Then we will indeed bear fruit.
We bear fruit not by squeezing it out of ourselves somehow, but because we are drawn into God’s love. We choose the abiding place of our souls. We choose to abide in Christ, which means we choose to abide in his love. We choose to open ourselves up to God’s love, to bask in that love, and to share it with others. Amen.
Saturday, April 28, 2018
Saturday, March 3, 2018
The Third Sunday of Lent, Year B
When God is Angry
Readings: Exodus 20:1-17; Psalm 19:7-14; 1 Corinthians 1:22-25; John 2:13-22
I must admit to being uneasy about the anger of Jesus in today’s Gospel. It is something with which I have struggled throughout this week. Generally what I struggle with is what I need to preach about. Why do I struggle with it? I guess it starts with my own issues around anger. Now I do not get angry very often, but when I do I really blow my top. And the silly thing about it is that I don’t usually get angry about important things. I usually get angry at some perceived slight. I fuss and fume about it. I toss and turn all night thinking about it, wondering what I should have said differently, how I should have handled it. And the person who slighted me often doesn’t even know I am angry.
But surely that is not what bothers me about Jesus’ anger. Imagine the scene for a moment! With the approach of Passover, Jesus went up to Jerusalem to the temple. The outer court of the temple was a huge area, big enough to house a few football stadiums. In this outer court – and understand this, we are not talking about the sanctuary – were crowds of people, all vying to change their money into the currency acceptable in the temple. Once changed, they went off to purchase birds or animals for sacrifice. The area was more than likely closely guarded by soldiers.
It was business as usual as Jesus entered the temple. What a commotion ensued when he took action! He made a whip of cords and used it to drive out the animals. He poured out the coins of the moneychangers, overturning tables in the process. The scene was one of total chaos.
Doesn’t it make you wonder, “What was he thinking!” The very anger of Jesus in doing what he did! What was his objection?
But once again, that is not really what troubles me. Perhaps it is about the image I have of Jesus. When it comes down to it, what bothers me is that he is acting on a very human emotion, and I think that somehow Jesus should be above all of that. Do we ever really get away from our Sunday School “Gentle Jesus meek and mild” image? We are all inclined to create Jesus in our own image, or at least in the image of what we would like Jesus to be. We may see Jesus as a mild-mannered moralizer guaranteed not to offend. We may see him as a gentle soul with long blond hair and soul searching blue eyes. And yet, if we believe that he is fully human as well as fully divine, why are we surprised at this expression of anger? Perhaps it is because it all seems so foolish.
But then as Paul points out to the people of Corinth, “The message of the cross is foolishness.” The very thought of the cross as a symbol of Christian faith confronted the values of Paul’s worldview. The claim of the Christian church was unthinkable to the Jews. They were waiting for the Messiah. They certainly did not recognize it embodied in the life of Christ. They expected a figure of power, one who would free them from the tyranny of Rome. They were looking for a king riding on a horse, not a Saviour hanging on a cross.
The Greeks too had expectations about God. They loved oratory and rhetoric. For them, God was a concept, not someone with whom you had a personal relationship. They approached God through the rational, through the philosophical. So Christ, and particularly the cross made no sense to them.
Even for us, as far removed as we are from the horror of crucifixion, the cross is foolishness. Power and authority are the way of our world. No matter how you dress it up, coat it in gold, make it a work of art, turn it into jewellery, it is foolishness… but it is God’s foolishness.
And Jesus’ action in the temple is a fine example of God’s foolishness. So we need to ask ourselves about this challenge of the status quo. What exactly is Jesus protesting?
It seems likely that his action expressed disapproval of what the temple had become. Jesus knew the law. He lived the commandments. As a Jew he understood that the commandments were about not doing violence to loyalties. He knew they were about building good relationships with other people and with God. They were about ending injustice in society. Where we accept the commandments as the basis of Western moral conduct, for the Hebrew people and for Jesus it was about creating relationships that did not exploit. God had freed them from slavery in Egypt. God gave them the freedom to figure out how the rules applied to their daily lives. God provided the promise of how they could turn around their previous life and live as God’s chosen people. Seeing exploitation taking place within the religious institution must have offended Jesus at his roots. Is he hoping to bring about a single-handed reformation of the temple? Whatever the reason, his was a deliberate and passionate act of protest that was bound to lead to trouble.
It was not a wise thing to do. Why did he not write a letter to the authorities, or talk quietly to a few of the people in private. The fact is, Jesus was thinking from God’s point of view. He was making God’s point as clearly as he could. Making that point, foolish though it may seem, was worth getting into trouble.
What foolishness it is to buy into the nonsense that Jesus, the son of a carpenter turned preacher could do any good. Yet that is what we believe as Christians.
What foolishness it is to believe that a God of love reigns over this fractured, violence-ridden world of ours. Yet it is at the heart of what we believe.
What foolishness it is to think that God cares about starving millions, the deprived, the poor, the downtrodden, the victims of society. Yet that is what we proclaim as Christians.
What foolishness it is to insist that we have a personal relationship with God, that God is in our midst caring for us, that God is personally concerned about each of us. Yet that is what keeps us going through all the difficult patches of life.
And if we really do believe in the saving act of Christ, then the real foolishness is that we are not acting on it, that we are not working to transform ourselves and our world. The suffering Jesus dying on the cross turns the tables on power. The cross becomes a symbol of love broken and poured out for all. We become bread for a hungry world.
And yet there is something else that keeps niggling at me this week. It is what happened after Jesus’ violent act. Things got even stranger. When asked to justify himself he refused. Instead he gave an explanation. “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” We look back on it from our Christian perspective and interpret it as a prediction of his death and resurrection. But it must have caused some scratching of heads and wondering if Jesus was in his right mind.
The cleansing of the temple is a warning against a false sense of security, against seeing Jesus as we would see him, against that ‘comfortable pew’ sense that can lull us into a sense of complacency. Jesus did not come to make our lives comfortable. Jesus did not come to give us warm fuzzy feelings about the faith, to offer us a safe and cozy religion. Jesus came to challenge our prejudices and illusions. He came to offer us radical transformation.
So yes! There is much we could learn from Jesus and his table turning tactics, for there are many injustices at work in our society. There is much we could learn about living passionately. Are we passionate enough to challenge the systems of the Church and the world? Are we passionate enough to become advocates for the poor and for those in need? Are we passionate enough to speak out wherever there is injustice? Are we passionate enough to challenge a world where war is condoned because it is economically practical? Are we passionate enough to stand up to those who would continue to destroy God’s beautiful creation by denying the harm that we are inflicting on our ecology. Lent is surely an appropriate time to take a good look at ourselves, at our motives.
It should happen for each of us on a personal level. Lent is a time, first of all to test our own lives. What barriers and stumbling blocks to a close relationship with God have we allowed to enter our lives? How are we living out our covenant with God?
It should happen on a corporate level. What marketplaces do we make of the church of God? What abuses are made in God’s name?
And when we have examined our motives, then we need to do something to change them, to turn the tables on them. I believe passionately that armed with our Christian faith we can change the world. That may be foolishness, but if it is then I will be foolish for God. Our prayers make a difference. They can bring about healing to this fractured world. They can change our hardened hearts and help us to live as brothers and sisters.
The cross is foolishness. But it is God’s foolishness. During this Lenten season let us embrace its foolishness. Let us take up the cross and follow Jesus. Let our faith make a real difference in our lives. Amen.
Readings: Exodus 20:1-17; Psalm 19:7-14; 1 Corinthians 1:22-25; John 2:13-22
I must admit to being uneasy about the anger of Jesus in today’s Gospel. It is something with which I have struggled throughout this week. Generally what I struggle with is what I need to preach about. Why do I struggle with it? I guess it starts with my own issues around anger. Now I do not get angry very often, but when I do I really blow my top. And the silly thing about it is that I don’t usually get angry about important things. I usually get angry at some perceived slight. I fuss and fume about it. I toss and turn all night thinking about it, wondering what I should have said differently, how I should have handled it. And the person who slighted me often doesn’t even know I am angry.
But surely that is not what bothers me about Jesus’ anger. Imagine the scene for a moment! With the approach of Passover, Jesus went up to Jerusalem to the temple. The outer court of the temple was a huge area, big enough to house a few football stadiums. In this outer court – and understand this, we are not talking about the sanctuary – were crowds of people, all vying to change their money into the currency acceptable in the temple. Once changed, they went off to purchase birds or animals for sacrifice. The area was more than likely closely guarded by soldiers.
It was business as usual as Jesus entered the temple. What a commotion ensued when he took action! He made a whip of cords and used it to drive out the animals. He poured out the coins of the moneychangers, overturning tables in the process. The scene was one of total chaos.
Doesn’t it make you wonder, “What was he thinking!” The very anger of Jesus in doing what he did! What was his objection?
But once again, that is not really what troubles me. Perhaps it is about the image I have of Jesus. When it comes down to it, what bothers me is that he is acting on a very human emotion, and I think that somehow Jesus should be above all of that. Do we ever really get away from our Sunday School “Gentle Jesus meek and mild” image? We are all inclined to create Jesus in our own image, or at least in the image of what we would like Jesus to be. We may see Jesus as a mild-mannered moralizer guaranteed not to offend. We may see him as a gentle soul with long blond hair and soul searching blue eyes. And yet, if we believe that he is fully human as well as fully divine, why are we surprised at this expression of anger? Perhaps it is because it all seems so foolish.
But then as Paul points out to the people of Corinth, “The message of the cross is foolishness.” The very thought of the cross as a symbol of Christian faith confronted the values of Paul’s worldview. The claim of the Christian church was unthinkable to the Jews. They were waiting for the Messiah. They certainly did not recognize it embodied in the life of Christ. They expected a figure of power, one who would free them from the tyranny of Rome. They were looking for a king riding on a horse, not a Saviour hanging on a cross.
The Greeks too had expectations about God. They loved oratory and rhetoric. For them, God was a concept, not someone with whom you had a personal relationship. They approached God through the rational, through the philosophical. So Christ, and particularly the cross made no sense to them.
Even for us, as far removed as we are from the horror of crucifixion, the cross is foolishness. Power and authority are the way of our world. No matter how you dress it up, coat it in gold, make it a work of art, turn it into jewellery, it is foolishness… but it is God’s foolishness.
And Jesus’ action in the temple is a fine example of God’s foolishness. So we need to ask ourselves about this challenge of the status quo. What exactly is Jesus protesting?
It seems likely that his action expressed disapproval of what the temple had become. Jesus knew the law. He lived the commandments. As a Jew he understood that the commandments were about not doing violence to loyalties. He knew they were about building good relationships with other people and with God. They were about ending injustice in society. Where we accept the commandments as the basis of Western moral conduct, for the Hebrew people and for Jesus it was about creating relationships that did not exploit. God had freed them from slavery in Egypt. God gave them the freedom to figure out how the rules applied to their daily lives. God provided the promise of how they could turn around their previous life and live as God’s chosen people. Seeing exploitation taking place within the religious institution must have offended Jesus at his roots. Is he hoping to bring about a single-handed reformation of the temple? Whatever the reason, his was a deliberate and passionate act of protest that was bound to lead to trouble.
It was not a wise thing to do. Why did he not write a letter to the authorities, or talk quietly to a few of the people in private. The fact is, Jesus was thinking from God’s point of view. He was making God’s point as clearly as he could. Making that point, foolish though it may seem, was worth getting into trouble.
What foolishness it is to buy into the nonsense that Jesus, the son of a carpenter turned preacher could do any good. Yet that is what we believe as Christians.
What foolishness it is to believe that a God of love reigns over this fractured, violence-ridden world of ours. Yet it is at the heart of what we believe.
What foolishness it is to think that God cares about starving millions, the deprived, the poor, the downtrodden, the victims of society. Yet that is what we proclaim as Christians.
What foolishness it is to insist that we have a personal relationship with God, that God is in our midst caring for us, that God is personally concerned about each of us. Yet that is what keeps us going through all the difficult patches of life.
And if we really do believe in the saving act of Christ, then the real foolishness is that we are not acting on it, that we are not working to transform ourselves and our world. The suffering Jesus dying on the cross turns the tables on power. The cross becomes a symbol of love broken and poured out for all. We become bread for a hungry world.
And yet there is something else that keeps niggling at me this week. It is what happened after Jesus’ violent act. Things got even stranger. When asked to justify himself he refused. Instead he gave an explanation. “Destroy this temple, and in three days I will raise it up.” We look back on it from our Christian perspective and interpret it as a prediction of his death and resurrection. But it must have caused some scratching of heads and wondering if Jesus was in his right mind.
The cleansing of the temple is a warning against a false sense of security, against seeing Jesus as we would see him, against that ‘comfortable pew’ sense that can lull us into a sense of complacency. Jesus did not come to make our lives comfortable. Jesus did not come to give us warm fuzzy feelings about the faith, to offer us a safe and cozy religion. Jesus came to challenge our prejudices and illusions. He came to offer us radical transformation.
So yes! There is much we could learn from Jesus and his table turning tactics, for there are many injustices at work in our society. There is much we could learn about living passionately. Are we passionate enough to challenge the systems of the Church and the world? Are we passionate enough to become advocates for the poor and for those in need? Are we passionate enough to speak out wherever there is injustice? Are we passionate enough to challenge a world where war is condoned because it is economically practical? Are we passionate enough to stand up to those who would continue to destroy God’s beautiful creation by denying the harm that we are inflicting on our ecology. Lent is surely an appropriate time to take a good look at ourselves, at our motives.
It should happen for each of us on a personal level. Lent is a time, first of all to test our own lives. What barriers and stumbling blocks to a close relationship with God have we allowed to enter our lives? How are we living out our covenant with God?
It should happen on a corporate level. What marketplaces do we make of the church of God? What abuses are made in God’s name?
And when we have examined our motives, then we need to do something to change them, to turn the tables on them. I believe passionately that armed with our Christian faith we can change the world. That may be foolishness, but if it is then I will be foolish for God. Our prayers make a difference. They can bring about healing to this fractured world. They can change our hardened hearts and help us to live as brothers and sisters.
The cross is foolishness. But it is God’s foolishness. During this Lenten season let us embrace its foolishness. Let us take up the cross and follow Jesus. Let our faith make a real difference in our lives. Amen.
Saturday, February 3, 2018
Presentation of Our Lord
Where is Our Song?
Readings: Malachi 3:1-4; Psalm 84:1-7; Hebrews 2:14-18; Luke 2:2-40
At this time of year I always like to watch the movie Groundhog Day. I watched for it again this year but it was not on. It is about an extremely cynical weatherman who is sent to cover the groundhog’s yearly appearance and to report on whether or not he has seen his shadow. The problem is that it is always Groundhog Day. Tomorrow never comes. He finishes the day only to find it repeating itself over and over again. At first he uses it to over indulge and to do crazy things, knowing that even if he kills himself, tomorrow will come. A transformative change comes over him as he begins to see it as an opportunity to improve his life. He is able to take one day and live it until he gets it right. It becomes a story of great hope.
That seems fitting to me, because Groundhog Day is, after all, a very hopeful day. The groundhog coming out of its hole reminds us that winter is half over. The days are beginning to get longer. Spring is just around the corner. Especially this year as we seem to be enduring endless winter, it was a hopeful day. Now we do not celebrate Groundhog Day in church. However, Candlemas, which we are celebrating, has some curious connections to the secular celebration that coincides with it. Not only do they occur on the same day; they both mark the day on which winter is half over. There is an ancient rhyme about Candlemas that may well remind you of the groundhog and his shadow.
If Candlemas day be fair and bright,
Come winter, have another flight.
If Candlemas bring clouds and rain,
Go winter, and come not again.
However, there is more to this celebration than the prognostication of the weather. It came to be called Candlemas because that was the day on which the year’s supply of candles for the church were blessed. Candles were lit to symbolize that Jesus Christ had come into the world as light. Today it is celebrated as a commemoration of the purification of The Blessed Virgin Mary forty days after the birth of her son. It also marks the presentation of the infant Jesus in the temple. It is a celebration of great hope as we recall the saving purpose of the incarnation. It is for me a wonderful example of the power of song and prayer to create meaning, identity and courage in a way that words alone cannot. It reminds me of Augustine’s saying, “We who sing, pray twice.”
Luke tells the story through the eyes of two saintly people who both have a song to sing. The first song belongs to Simeon, a devout Jew who is waiting for the coming of the Messiah. Simeon is an old man living at a troubled time in the history of his people. It is a nation occupied by the powerful Roman Empire. The laws of the land are harsh. His whole long life has been one of hardship and difficulty. Yet each day he goes to the temple to worship God, to pray for the salvation of Israel, and to await the Messiah. God has promised that he will see the Messiah before he dies. He knows that God will keep that promise.
The day comes when Mary and Joseph bring Jesus into the temple. He is the first-born son, and is to be dedicated to God as is the custom amongst Jewish families. His parents then reclaim him by paying a small ransom to the priest. A wealthy family would be expected to give a large gift. Mary and Joseph are poor. They bring with them a small gift, a pair of turtledoves.
As is his habit, Simeon is there, praying. When Mary and Joseph bring Jesus into the temple that day, Simeon knows the ift that God has given him. He recognized in this child the very one for whom he has been waiting all these years. This is the bringer of the promised salvation, the one who will open the eyes of the Gentiles to the truth of God. So when he sees the child he takes him in his arms and sings a song of thanksgiving to God. Through his faithful prayer, through faithfully seeking God, he comes to a meeting place with God. He knows God’s grace at work in his life. “My eyes have seen your salvation,” he says, recognizing who it is in his arms. His song is a lament, but this is no song of resignation in an old man ready to die. This is a call to action as he takes up his ministry. He is embracing the future with all that it holds in store for him.
There is another song that Simeon sings. He has a prophecy for Mary. Simeon wants Mary to know that her baby Jesus will grow up to be a sign that will be opposed by many in Israel. “A sword will pierce your own soul too,” he tells her.
Anna sings next. She is an elderly prophet who spends her time in the temple, fasting and praying, awaiting with expectation the day of the Lord’s coming. She too discerns the mysterious significance of the child Jesus. Hers is a song of praise and thanksgiving. She receives the Christ child as a sign that God keeps God’s promises, and all she can do is respond with thanksgiving. Like Simeon she becomes a model of what we might strive and pray for, the capacity to recognize the on-going creativity of God in the world.
I like that story of Simeon and Anna, two ordinary people who see God in a most extraordinary way. They did not witness any miracles, no signs, no wonders. All they did was to look at the baby, and they believed. What a wonderful concept of God they both have! What a breadth of vision! So often our God is too small. We want our faith to be a personal thing. God is “my God”. Religion is my personal possession. It is about my well being, my problems, about meeting my needs. God becomes the God of my church or my way of life or my race.
Let’s fact it! It is difficult to watch the news without being confronted by a barrage of hopelessness. We hear allegation after allegation of sexual misconduct. We hear of violence of nation against nation, of people against people. We witness catastrophic events, hurricanes, earthquakes, floods, fire and drought. We hear of children dying of hunger. We hear of global warming. We wonder where it will all end.
In this modern day church of ours, We need the vision of Simeon. We need the wisdom of Anna. The Anglican Church is a wonderful and diverse communion, rich in cultural makeup, rich in liturgical tradition. We have so much to offer to our communities. How do we continue to reach out to a growing and changing community with limited resources? How do we encourage young people to stay and be part of our community? How do we bring up children in the faith? How do we face the challenges of a society that is becoming more and more secularized? How do we keep faith when the world around us seems to be in a state of chaos? How do we remain hopeful?
Where is our song? We are called to sing all kinds of songs. There is a power in singing. Songs create light and life. Songs give us hope. They help us to express the deep longings in our souls. They share the story of our faith.
And honestly, sometimes all we can do is sing. Quite rightly, the song we begin with is a lament about all that is going on in the world. Many of the psalms that we sing week by week are laments. Lament is a very real way to stay close to God, to relate to God, during times of trouble. Theologian Walter Brueggemann says that the power of lament is an act of bold faith because it insists that we experience the world as it really is and not simply as we want it to be. The beauty of it is that what begins as lament blossoms into praise and thanksgiving.
It is fitting that we began this Eucharist by singing Simeon’s song. In this meal we like Simeon, not only hear, but also see, touch and feel the promise of life that God makes to us. And after receiving this promise from God in the bread and wine broken and poured, we go out as bread into a hungry world.
Like Simeon and Anna in the temple, our eyes too have seen the glory of God. We have seen it all around us. We have seen it at work in our lives and in the lives of those we love. We have seen how God graces us. It is a glory that we need to share. We do that by offering ourselves, our time, our talents, our treasures, to God. That is the hope for the Church. That is the hope for a world that badly needs to experience God’s grace. Amen.
Readings: Malachi 3:1-4; Psalm 84:1-7; Hebrews 2:14-18; Luke 2:2-40
At this time of year I always like to watch the movie Groundhog Day. I watched for it again this year but it was not on. It is about an extremely cynical weatherman who is sent to cover the groundhog’s yearly appearance and to report on whether or not he has seen his shadow. The problem is that it is always Groundhog Day. Tomorrow never comes. He finishes the day only to find it repeating itself over and over again. At first he uses it to over indulge and to do crazy things, knowing that even if he kills himself, tomorrow will come. A transformative change comes over him as he begins to see it as an opportunity to improve his life. He is able to take one day and live it until he gets it right. It becomes a story of great hope.
That seems fitting to me, because Groundhog Day is, after all, a very hopeful day. The groundhog coming out of its hole reminds us that winter is half over. The days are beginning to get longer. Spring is just around the corner. Especially this year as we seem to be enduring endless winter, it was a hopeful day. Now we do not celebrate Groundhog Day in church. However, Candlemas, which we are celebrating, has some curious connections to the secular celebration that coincides with it. Not only do they occur on the same day; they both mark the day on which winter is half over. There is an ancient rhyme about Candlemas that may well remind you of the groundhog and his shadow.
If Candlemas day be fair and bright,
Come winter, have another flight.
If Candlemas bring clouds and rain,
Go winter, and come not again.
However, there is more to this celebration than the prognostication of the weather. It came to be called Candlemas because that was the day on which the year’s supply of candles for the church were blessed. Candles were lit to symbolize that Jesus Christ had come into the world as light. Today it is celebrated as a commemoration of the purification of The Blessed Virgin Mary forty days after the birth of her son. It also marks the presentation of the infant Jesus in the temple. It is a celebration of great hope as we recall the saving purpose of the incarnation. It is for me a wonderful example of the power of song and prayer to create meaning, identity and courage in a way that words alone cannot. It reminds me of Augustine’s saying, “We who sing, pray twice.”
Luke tells the story through the eyes of two saintly people who both have a song to sing. The first song belongs to Simeon, a devout Jew who is waiting for the coming of the Messiah. Simeon is an old man living at a troubled time in the history of his people. It is a nation occupied by the powerful Roman Empire. The laws of the land are harsh. His whole long life has been one of hardship and difficulty. Yet each day he goes to the temple to worship God, to pray for the salvation of Israel, and to await the Messiah. God has promised that he will see the Messiah before he dies. He knows that God will keep that promise.
The day comes when Mary and Joseph bring Jesus into the temple. He is the first-born son, and is to be dedicated to God as is the custom amongst Jewish families. His parents then reclaim him by paying a small ransom to the priest. A wealthy family would be expected to give a large gift. Mary and Joseph are poor. They bring with them a small gift, a pair of turtledoves.
As is his habit, Simeon is there, praying. When Mary and Joseph bring Jesus into the temple that day, Simeon knows the ift that God has given him. He recognized in this child the very one for whom he has been waiting all these years. This is the bringer of the promised salvation, the one who will open the eyes of the Gentiles to the truth of God. So when he sees the child he takes him in his arms and sings a song of thanksgiving to God. Through his faithful prayer, through faithfully seeking God, he comes to a meeting place with God. He knows God’s grace at work in his life. “My eyes have seen your salvation,” he says, recognizing who it is in his arms. His song is a lament, but this is no song of resignation in an old man ready to die. This is a call to action as he takes up his ministry. He is embracing the future with all that it holds in store for him.
There is another song that Simeon sings. He has a prophecy for Mary. Simeon wants Mary to know that her baby Jesus will grow up to be a sign that will be opposed by many in Israel. “A sword will pierce your own soul too,” he tells her.
Anna sings next. She is an elderly prophet who spends her time in the temple, fasting and praying, awaiting with expectation the day of the Lord’s coming. She too discerns the mysterious significance of the child Jesus. Hers is a song of praise and thanksgiving. She receives the Christ child as a sign that God keeps God’s promises, and all she can do is respond with thanksgiving. Like Simeon she becomes a model of what we might strive and pray for, the capacity to recognize the on-going creativity of God in the world.
I like that story of Simeon and Anna, two ordinary people who see God in a most extraordinary way. They did not witness any miracles, no signs, no wonders. All they did was to look at the baby, and they believed. What a wonderful concept of God they both have! What a breadth of vision! So often our God is too small. We want our faith to be a personal thing. God is “my God”. Religion is my personal possession. It is about my well being, my problems, about meeting my needs. God becomes the God of my church or my way of life or my race.
Let’s fact it! It is difficult to watch the news without being confronted by a barrage of hopelessness. We hear allegation after allegation of sexual misconduct. We hear of violence of nation against nation, of people against people. We witness catastrophic events, hurricanes, earthquakes, floods, fire and drought. We hear of children dying of hunger. We hear of global warming. We wonder where it will all end.
In this modern day church of ours, We need the vision of Simeon. We need the wisdom of Anna. The Anglican Church is a wonderful and diverse communion, rich in cultural makeup, rich in liturgical tradition. We have so much to offer to our communities. How do we continue to reach out to a growing and changing community with limited resources? How do we encourage young people to stay and be part of our community? How do we bring up children in the faith? How do we face the challenges of a society that is becoming more and more secularized? How do we keep faith when the world around us seems to be in a state of chaos? How do we remain hopeful?
Where is our song? We are called to sing all kinds of songs. There is a power in singing. Songs create light and life. Songs give us hope. They help us to express the deep longings in our souls. They share the story of our faith.
And honestly, sometimes all we can do is sing. Quite rightly, the song we begin with is a lament about all that is going on in the world. Many of the psalms that we sing week by week are laments. Lament is a very real way to stay close to God, to relate to God, during times of trouble. Theologian Walter Brueggemann says that the power of lament is an act of bold faith because it insists that we experience the world as it really is and not simply as we want it to be. The beauty of it is that what begins as lament blossoms into praise and thanksgiving.
It is fitting that we began this Eucharist by singing Simeon’s song. In this meal we like Simeon, not only hear, but also see, touch and feel the promise of life that God makes to us. And after receiving this promise from God in the bread and wine broken and poured, we go out as bread into a hungry world.
Like Simeon and Anna in the temple, our eyes too have seen the glory of God. We have seen it all around us. We have seen it at work in our lives and in the lives of those we love. We have seen how God graces us. It is a glory that we need to share. We do that by offering ourselves, our time, our talents, our treasures, to God. That is the hope for the Church. That is the hope for a world that badly needs to experience God’s grace. Amen.
Saturday, January 27, 2018
The Fourth Sunday after Epiphany. Year B
Speaking with Authority
Readings: Deuteronomy 18:15-20; Psalm 111; 1 Corinthians 8:1-13; Mark 1:21-28
During the season of Epiphany, we have explored the many ways and times that God calls us, not only on a personal level, but also as a Church, and as a nation. The readings this week continue the theme of call, as they explore how God speaks to us through other people. They speak to us of authority. How do we determine God’s truth? How do we determine who is speaking with integrity?
I came to a new realization about what authority meant a number of years ago when I participated in a healing circle. I was the only non-aboriginal person in the group. We sat in the circle and when we wished to speak we picked up a stone from the centre of the circle and as long as we held the stone we could speak. Many people spoke of their past hurts and anger. I picked up the stone and found myself talking about my experience teaching in a residential school, about my sincerity and sense of mission in going to the north, and at my hurt and confusion and anger at the injustice of it all. I said that I expected that they would feel nothing but contempt and anger for me. I put the stone back. The Elder, an old woman, picked it up. She went back and sat in silence for some time. Then she let out a whoop and returned the stone to its place. Another woman began to speak. She told me that the Elder spoke for all of them. They could hear the authenticity of what I spoke, that it came from the heart, and that I was their sister. It was an ‘aha’ moment for me as I realized that in that one rather primal yell they had recognized her authority.
The question of authority was critical for the people of Israel. Prophets and priests claimed to speak and act in accordance with God’s will, and yet conflicts and disputes arose. They grappled with how God speaks us. They settled on certain criteria. The prophet needed to be an Israelite. He was called to speak as God commanded, and then what was spoken had to be realized in the events that ensued. It needed to be confirmed.
We sometimes have the wrong idea about prophecy. We think that it is about foretelling the future. But it is far from that. The word prophecy comes from the Greek, προφετεσ, "one who speaks before others." It is a translation from Hebrew meaning “one called to speak aloud". The prophets were called to speak aloud, to speak what had been discerned through the closeness of their walk with God. A prophet was one who listened to God. Their call was to speak with authority. The root of the word, authority, is literally “to make to grow”. What they said should help people grow in the way in which God intended.
Perhaps a look at the prophets of our age can give us some insight. In my first parish was such a person. He worked in a much-maligned occupation. He was a meteorologist who worked at predicting the weather. I recall an interesting story that he once told me.
It seems that when the Pope was planning his trip to Los Angeles he wanted to know what the weather would be like. A weather consultant was hired by the Vatican to make some recommendations. He looked at the last thirty years of weather in Los Angeles at the same time of year as the Pope's visit was to take place. He came back and said to the Pope, "At the time of your visit it is likely to be very hot and dry." The Pope made his plans accordingly and the trip went off as expected.
Farmers' Almanacs work on the same premise. They look back about thirty years and make a prediction based on reasonable expectations. Of course, with Global warming bringing with it violent storms and unpredictable weather, it is becoming increasingly difficult to predict with any degree of certainty.
Parents do exactly the same thing. Your child comes to you asking permission to do something. Based on your own experience you know what will happen. You say no and give a reasonable explanation about why. There are the usual arguments. And if you do give in and the outcome is as you predicted, with any luck your child will come to you and say: "How did you know?" However, it will more likely be twenty years later when they are dealing with their own children.
Scripture too looks at past history. So often the story begins with God recounting to a prophet all that God has accomplished for God's people in the past. "Wasn't I with you at the Red Sea? Did I not provide you with manna in the desert? Now go and tell my people...” and the prophet is able to speak with authority. "Thus says the Lord:” The prophet is able to challenge the people on a moral level. He is able to speak what needs to be heard in the light of past experience.
Authority on ethical decisions comes about in a similar way. For example, the people of Corinth, including the Christian community bought groceries in the little shops in the market. Much of the meat was the produce of the local temples. The sacrificial animals and birds were sold. That presented an ethical dilemma for the Christians. Should they eat meat that had been dedicated to a pagan God? They tried to reason. Idols are not real. Nothing has happened to the meat. Just eat it! What difference could it possibly make? Paul gives them a reason to reconsider. If it is a stumbling block to someone, then your decision is a bad one. Ethical decisions should result in doing the loving thing. If your action causes someone to feel a sense of guilt, then you need to reconsider so that the person is not hurt by your decision. A good example might be in the use of alcohol. If I am with someone who is an alcoholic and I drink, then I may be contributing to that person’s problem. I would be better to refrain from drinking. Even though what I am doing is perfectly reasonable, I should limit my freedom for the better good. I should do the loving thing.
Jesus was known as one who could speak with authority. Hearing him speak in the temple gave people an understanding of their potential, of the possibilities. He did not talk down to them. He treated them as friends and equals. He taught them to be realistic about themselves. He helped them to know that God had called them to greater things than they could imagine. His authority made them do what all authority should do. It helped them grow.
Sometimes the person who bears authority is misunderstood. It was so with Jesus. A demented heckler shrieked at Jesus at the top of his voice. Jesus confronted the situation. He healed the person.
This scene is not as foreign to us as it seems. It is played out in our modern world. Jesus was saying something new. New things are often exciting, but at the same time they can seem threatening. Those who bear the prophetic word, those who advocate change, are often rejected or even attacked for their beliefs. The attack on such people can become quite personal. A spirit of open communication is essential in living out our life as a church community.
So what does it mean to this parish as you say goodbye to your priest? What is the prophetic word that you need to hear and share? What disappointments and brokenness does this parish face? What fears need to be assuaged? Our lives are filled with such times. God does not stay away from us because of our challenges and shortcomings. God uses them to come closer to us, to draw us closer. So let us look outward at the brokenness we see in our families, in our friends, and most of all in our congregation. Let us ask ourselves how God might be choosing us to work through us to bring new life into the situation. God continues to use us to further God’s kingdom. Thanks be to God!
Readings: Deuteronomy 18:15-20; Psalm 111; 1 Corinthians 8:1-13; Mark 1:21-28
During the season of Epiphany, we have explored the many ways and times that God calls us, not only on a personal level, but also as a Church, and as a nation. The readings this week continue the theme of call, as they explore how God speaks to us through other people. They speak to us of authority. How do we determine God’s truth? How do we determine who is speaking with integrity?
I came to a new realization about what authority meant a number of years ago when I participated in a healing circle. I was the only non-aboriginal person in the group. We sat in the circle and when we wished to speak we picked up a stone from the centre of the circle and as long as we held the stone we could speak. Many people spoke of their past hurts and anger. I picked up the stone and found myself talking about my experience teaching in a residential school, about my sincerity and sense of mission in going to the north, and at my hurt and confusion and anger at the injustice of it all. I said that I expected that they would feel nothing but contempt and anger for me. I put the stone back. The Elder, an old woman, picked it up. She went back and sat in silence for some time. Then she let out a whoop and returned the stone to its place. Another woman began to speak. She told me that the Elder spoke for all of them. They could hear the authenticity of what I spoke, that it came from the heart, and that I was their sister. It was an ‘aha’ moment for me as I realized that in that one rather primal yell they had recognized her authority.
The question of authority was critical for the people of Israel. Prophets and priests claimed to speak and act in accordance with God’s will, and yet conflicts and disputes arose. They grappled with how God speaks us. They settled on certain criteria. The prophet needed to be an Israelite. He was called to speak as God commanded, and then what was spoken had to be realized in the events that ensued. It needed to be confirmed.
We sometimes have the wrong idea about prophecy. We think that it is about foretelling the future. But it is far from that. The word prophecy comes from the Greek, προφετεσ, "one who speaks before others." It is a translation from Hebrew meaning “one called to speak aloud". The prophets were called to speak aloud, to speak what had been discerned through the closeness of their walk with God. A prophet was one who listened to God. Their call was to speak with authority. The root of the word, authority, is literally “to make to grow”. What they said should help people grow in the way in which God intended.
Perhaps a look at the prophets of our age can give us some insight. In my first parish was such a person. He worked in a much-maligned occupation. He was a meteorologist who worked at predicting the weather. I recall an interesting story that he once told me.
It seems that when the Pope was planning his trip to Los Angeles he wanted to know what the weather would be like. A weather consultant was hired by the Vatican to make some recommendations. He looked at the last thirty years of weather in Los Angeles at the same time of year as the Pope's visit was to take place. He came back and said to the Pope, "At the time of your visit it is likely to be very hot and dry." The Pope made his plans accordingly and the trip went off as expected.
Farmers' Almanacs work on the same premise. They look back about thirty years and make a prediction based on reasonable expectations. Of course, with Global warming bringing with it violent storms and unpredictable weather, it is becoming increasingly difficult to predict with any degree of certainty.
Parents do exactly the same thing. Your child comes to you asking permission to do something. Based on your own experience you know what will happen. You say no and give a reasonable explanation about why. There are the usual arguments. And if you do give in and the outcome is as you predicted, with any luck your child will come to you and say: "How did you know?" However, it will more likely be twenty years later when they are dealing with their own children.
Scripture too looks at past history. So often the story begins with God recounting to a prophet all that God has accomplished for God's people in the past. "Wasn't I with you at the Red Sea? Did I not provide you with manna in the desert? Now go and tell my people...” and the prophet is able to speak with authority. "Thus says the Lord:” The prophet is able to challenge the people on a moral level. He is able to speak what needs to be heard in the light of past experience.
Authority on ethical decisions comes about in a similar way. For example, the people of Corinth, including the Christian community bought groceries in the little shops in the market. Much of the meat was the produce of the local temples. The sacrificial animals and birds were sold. That presented an ethical dilemma for the Christians. Should they eat meat that had been dedicated to a pagan God? They tried to reason. Idols are not real. Nothing has happened to the meat. Just eat it! What difference could it possibly make? Paul gives them a reason to reconsider. If it is a stumbling block to someone, then your decision is a bad one. Ethical decisions should result in doing the loving thing. If your action causes someone to feel a sense of guilt, then you need to reconsider so that the person is not hurt by your decision. A good example might be in the use of alcohol. If I am with someone who is an alcoholic and I drink, then I may be contributing to that person’s problem. I would be better to refrain from drinking. Even though what I am doing is perfectly reasonable, I should limit my freedom for the better good. I should do the loving thing.
Jesus was known as one who could speak with authority. Hearing him speak in the temple gave people an understanding of their potential, of the possibilities. He did not talk down to them. He treated them as friends and equals. He taught them to be realistic about themselves. He helped them to know that God had called them to greater things than they could imagine. His authority made them do what all authority should do. It helped them grow.
Sometimes the person who bears authority is misunderstood. It was so with Jesus. A demented heckler shrieked at Jesus at the top of his voice. Jesus confronted the situation. He healed the person.
This scene is not as foreign to us as it seems. It is played out in our modern world. Jesus was saying something new. New things are often exciting, but at the same time they can seem threatening. Those who bear the prophetic word, those who advocate change, are often rejected or even attacked for their beliefs. The attack on such people can become quite personal. A spirit of open communication is essential in living out our life as a church community.
So what does it mean to this parish as you say goodbye to your priest? What is the prophetic word that you need to hear and share? What disappointments and brokenness does this parish face? What fears need to be assuaged? Our lives are filled with such times. God does not stay away from us because of our challenges and shortcomings. God uses them to come closer to us, to draw us closer. So let us look outward at the brokenness we see in our families, in our friends, and most of all in our congregation. Let us ask ourselves how God might be choosing us to work through us to bring new life into the situation. God continues to use us to further God’s kingdom. Thanks be to God!
Saturday, January 20, 2018
The Third Sunday after Epiphany, Year B
Fish Stories
Readings: Jonah 3:1-5, 10; Psalm 62:6-14; 1 Corinthians 7:29-31; Mark 1: 14-20
I was visiting my sister many years ago. I was sitting in the living room with my then teenaged niece. We were chatting, getting caught up. My sister called her to come and help with setting the table. She ignored her completely and kept on talking to me as if she had heard nothing. My sister called again a little louder. Once again it was as if my niece had not heard a word that was said. I asked her, “Why aren’t you answering your mother?” Her reply: “She isn’t mad enough yet?” Of course, my sister did eventually really lose her cool. Only then did my niece get up and do as her mother demanded.
Confronted with calls for action from God, we can find all sorts of excuses. “I didn’t hear you!” “I don’t understand what you want!” “It’s too hard!” “Find someone else!” “ I’m not the right person for the job.” “You couldn’t possibly mean me!” All along, the real reason is more likely to be “I don’t want to” or “ I will never help that person” or perhaps to give the benefit of the doubt, “I’m afraid of what you are asking me to do”.
Consider the story of Jonah. And to do so we need to look at the whole story, not just the part that is assigned as the Old Testament reading for this Sunday. Jonah was a prophet – not a very good one as it turns out – but a prophet nonetheless. God called him to action. He was to go to the people of Nineveh to give them a message from God. It is important to understand that as far as Jonah was concerned, Nineveh was the archenemy. It was the capital of the Assyrian Empire, a brutal occupying force, the destroyer of Israel. In his estimation it was unreasonable that God would ask him to do anything for the people of Nineveh. Yet here was God wanting to send him to tell them that he was going to overthrow them because of the evil things they had done. He was being sent to give them a chance. As far as Jonah is concerned it would be just fine if they fell off the face of the earth. It would be an end to the problem. Jonah was their last chance. And you know! He refused. Like my niece with her mother he heard what God was saying to him. He ignored the message. In fact, he ran in the other direction as fast as he could.
Fortunately for Nineveh, God did not give up. God went to great lengths to move Jonah to action, to allow him to answer God’s call. A huge storm arises and threatens to sink the ship that Jonah is on. The crew casts lots to see who might be responsible for the storm. Jonah confesses that he is actually running away from God. The only way to save the ship, he tells them, is to toss him overboard. As the situation becomes even more hopeless, they finally do exactly that. They throw him into the sea. The sea immediately quiets down.
But God is not done with Jonah. He has him swallowed by a great fish and thrown up on the shores of Nineveh. Still Jonah is reluctant to act. He sulks for a time, but when he sees that it is doing no good, he begrudgingly does what God has asked of him. He begins his walk through the streets of Nineveh. “Forty days more and Nineveh shall be overthrown!” he cries out to the people. And, much to Jonah’s astonishment, perhaps even disdain, they hear and believe. They repent. They change their ways. They proclaim a fast and everyone puts on sackcloth. The whole of Nineveh’s society gets involved in changing their ways. God spares the people.
It is not just the people of Nineveh who are called to repentance in this story. Jonah also needs to repent. There is no doubt about it. He is being racist. The Book of Jonah was a prophetic word to its time. It challenged the nationalism that limited God’s love to one people. It is a prophetic word to our time as well. In our day and age, we need to ask what Nineveh’s we are called to minister to. It is a challenge to those who would define God’s grace by their parochial boundaries. It is a challenging message to the modern day Church in which Ecumenism seems all but dead. This is the end of the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity. Do we understand that “one church, one faith, one Lord” does not mean “my church, my faith, my Lord”? What a tragedy it is that we cannot eat at the same table? What a tragedy that we allow differing traditions to stand in the way of unity! How do we work together to hasten the kingdom of God?
It is a challenge during the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity for us to put aside denominational boundaries. But it is an even greater challenge in the multicultural, multifaith world in which we find ourselves to put aside our racist attitudes and embrace all of God’s people. What transformed ways of being together do we seek?
Perhaps the answer lies in a different fish story, the one we hear in today’s Gospel. Jesus calls the disciples to leave their nets, follow him, and begin their ministry of fishing for people. It is amazing how immediate the response it. It seems unreal. And yet on reflection, I can see how it could happen. Some people are just sitting on the edge of life waiting for the call to something worthwhile. If the right person comes along with the right call they are up and away. They have been secretly longing for it. Life has prepared them for it. They did not choose it. It chose them.
I think sometimes when we see what is going on in the world we would just like to get off. That is what Jonah wanted to do. “Stop the world’ I want to get off!” he is saying to God. “I want to hide out and ignore every terrible thing that is going on!” That is what we are like when we hearken back to what we consider to be better times, times when churches were full; Sunday Schools were burgeoning with children. Or when we latch onto the latest fanatical movement! Jesus, in calling us to be fishers of people does not make it comfortable or easy for us. He does not give us permission to opt out of society. Rather he calls us to follow, to serve and to accept the consequences. I have found in my own life that to do so results in a sense of security that cannot be eradicated by tragic events.
God calls us, not once, but again and again throughout our lives, to renewed life in Christ. It is a call to choose new priorities, to leave behind the things that impede our discipleship, to find new ways of serving God and humanity. Like Jonah, God calls to us through the crises of our lives. God may even call us to seek out the Nineveh’s of our world, the last place or the last person on earth that we feel called to serve.
The truth about following the call of God is that we cannot let our fears and insecurities about what might happen hold us back. We need to discern that it is indeed God calling us. We need to discern what it is that God is calling us to do. We need to bring it to God in prayer. If it rings true, then the way forward, the way to respond, will emerge. We can be sure that we are all called – called to repentance, called to transformation, called to be the people of God, called to be witnesses to the love of God in Christ Jesus – called to be. Amen.
Readings: Jonah 3:1-5, 10; Psalm 62:6-14; 1 Corinthians 7:29-31; Mark 1: 14-20
I was visiting my sister many years ago. I was sitting in the living room with my then teenaged niece. We were chatting, getting caught up. My sister called her to come and help with setting the table. She ignored her completely and kept on talking to me as if she had heard nothing. My sister called again a little louder. Once again it was as if my niece had not heard a word that was said. I asked her, “Why aren’t you answering your mother?” Her reply: “She isn’t mad enough yet?” Of course, my sister did eventually really lose her cool. Only then did my niece get up and do as her mother demanded.
Confronted with calls for action from God, we can find all sorts of excuses. “I didn’t hear you!” “I don’t understand what you want!” “It’s too hard!” “Find someone else!” “ I’m not the right person for the job.” “You couldn’t possibly mean me!” All along, the real reason is more likely to be “I don’t want to” or “ I will never help that person” or perhaps to give the benefit of the doubt, “I’m afraid of what you are asking me to do”.
Consider the story of Jonah. And to do so we need to look at the whole story, not just the part that is assigned as the Old Testament reading for this Sunday. Jonah was a prophet – not a very good one as it turns out – but a prophet nonetheless. God called him to action. He was to go to the people of Nineveh to give them a message from God. It is important to understand that as far as Jonah was concerned, Nineveh was the archenemy. It was the capital of the Assyrian Empire, a brutal occupying force, the destroyer of Israel. In his estimation it was unreasonable that God would ask him to do anything for the people of Nineveh. Yet here was God wanting to send him to tell them that he was going to overthrow them because of the evil things they had done. He was being sent to give them a chance. As far as Jonah is concerned it would be just fine if they fell off the face of the earth. It would be an end to the problem. Jonah was their last chance. And you know! He refused. Like my niece with her mother he heard what God was saying to him. He ignored the message. In fact, he ran in the other direction as fast as he could.
Fortunately for Nineveh, God did not give up. God went to great lengths to move Jonah to action, to allow him to answer God’s call. A huge storm arises and threatens to sink the ship that Jonah is on. The crew casts lots to see who might be responsible for the storm. Jonah confesses that he is actually running away from God. The only way to save the ship, he tells them, is to toss him overboard. As the situation becomes even more hopeless, they finally do exactly that. They throw him into the sea. The sea immediately quiets down.
But God is not done with Jonah. He has him swallowed by a great fish and thrown up on the shores of Nineveh. Still Jonah is reluctant to act. He sulks for a time, but when he sees that it is doing no good, he begrudgingly does what God has asked of him. He begins his walk through the streets of Nineveh. “Forty days more and Nineveh shall be overthrown!” he cries out to the people. And, much to Jonah’s astonishment, perhaps even disdain, they hear and believe. They repent. They change their ways. They proclaim a fast and everyone puts on sackcloth. The whole of Nineveh’s society gets involved in changing their ways. God spares the people.
It is not just the people of Nineveh who are called to repentance in this story. Jonah also needs to repent. There is no doubt about it. He is being racist. The Book of Jonah was a prophetic word to its time. It challenged the nationalism that limited God’s love to one people. It is a prophetic word to our time as well. In our day and age, we need to ask what Nineveh’s we are called to minister to. It is a challenge to those who would define God’s grace by their parochial boundaries. It is a challenging message to the modern day Church in which Ecumenism seems all but dead. This is the end of the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity. Do we understand that “one church, one faith, one Lord” does not mean “my church, my faith, my Lord”? What a tragedy it is that we cannot eat at the same table? What a tragedy that we allow differing traditions to stand in the way of unity! How do we work together to hasten the kingdom of God?
It is a challenge during the Week of Prayer for Christian Unity for us to put aside denominational boundaries. But it is an even greater challenge in the multicultural, multifaith world in which we find ourselves to put aside our racist attitudes and embrace all of God’s people. What transformed ways of being together do we seek?
Perhaps the answer lies in a different fish story, the one we hear in today’s Gospel. Jesus calls the disciples to leave their nets, follow him, and begin their ministry of fishing for people. It is amazing how immediate the response it. It seems unreal. And yet on reflection, I can see how it could happen. Some people are just sitting on the edge of life waiting for the call to something worthwhile. If the right person comes along with the right call they are up and away. They have been secretly longing for it. Life has prepared them for it. They did not choose it. It chose them.
I think sometimes when we see what is going on in the world we would just like to get off. That is what Jonah wanted to do. “Stop the world’ I want to get off!” he is saying to God. “I want to hide out and ignore every terrible thing that is going on!” That is what we are like when we hearken back to what we consider to be better times, times when churches were full; Sunday Schools were burgeoning with children. Or when we latch onto the latest fanatical movement! Jesus, in calling us to be fishers of people does not make it comfortable or easy for us. He does not give us permission to opt out of society. Rather he calls us to follow, to serve and to accept the consequences. I have found in my own life that to do so results in a sense of security that cannot be eradicated by tragic events.
God calls us, not once, but again and again throughout our lives, to renewed life in Christ. It is a call to choose new priorities, to leave behind the things that impede our discipleship, to find new ways of serving God and humanity. Like Jonah, God calls to us through the crises of our lives. God may even call us to seek out the Nineveh’s of our world, the last place or the last person on earth that we feel called to serve.
The truth about following the call of God is that we cannot let our fears and insecurities about what might happen hold us back. We need to discern that it is indeed God calling us. We need to discern what it is that God is calling us to do. We need to bring it to God in prayer. If it rings true, then the way forward, the way to respond, will emerge. We can be sure that we are all called – called to repentance, called to transformation, called to be the people of God, called to be witnesses to the love of God in Christ Jesus – called to be. Amen.
Saturday, January 13, 2018
The Second Sunday after Epiphany, Year B
Is God Among Us?
Readings: 1 Samuel 3:1-10; Psalm 139:1-6, 13-18; 1 Corinthians 6:12-20; John 1:43-51
During the season of Epiphany the theme of call is a recurring motif. Today’s readings are no exception. There is the story of God’s call to the child Samuel in the Shiloh temple. Then the psalmist reflects on God’s infinite care of all of humanity. There is a sense in the psalm that there is no way to avoid God’s call, for our God is inescapable. Even when we are developing in the womb God knows us. God sustains us throughout our lives. At night when our problems loom in the darkness, God is with us. From birth to death, God is there, sustaining us. In the New Testament Paul reminds the Christian community in Corinth of their call to abide by God’s law. It is a call to holiness, to live our lives differently from the way the world lives, to be accountable to God. And the Gospel focuses on Nathanael, called by God even though he scorns the very idea that Christ or Christianity could have any bearing on his life. In all of them, there is that sense that our inescapable God continues at every stage of our lives to call us into relationship.
We are used to calls, at least the kind that come over the telephone. These days we do not leave home without our cell phones. We are constantly in communication with family and friends, not just with a call, but even more likely by text. But when it comes to talking to God, to being in communication with God, we don’t even understand what it means. To be called by God! What does it mean? How does it happen? The answer is of course, in as many ways and through as many people as it takes God to get through to us.
The call of Samuel is a wonderful example of how God uses others to help us respond. When Samuel was three years old his mother Hannah took him to live in the Shiloh temple fulfilling her promise to God. Eli had two sons who served in the temple. However, their greed had given the temple a bad name. Eli had not spoken out about their misbehaviour, and was in disfavour with God. He may have been in disfavour, but the lamp of God had not gone out in his life. When the child, Samuel heard God speak, Eli was able to help him understand that it was God speaking. As Samuel lay in the dark of the night he heard his name spoken. He went in to Eli to see what the old man needed. “I didn’t call you,” Eli told him. “Go back to bed.” It was not until the third time that Samuel came into him that Eli realized that it was the voice of God Samuel was hearing. Eli’s sight may have been dim, but he still had insight. “If God calls you again,” he said, “you shall say, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.” Samuel responded to God’s call and became a faithful servant.
Not that it was easy for Samuel, for God told Samuel about his displeasure at the behaviour of Eli and his sons. It is difficult to be a prophet, to speak the truth that God wants us to speak. It is even more difficult to speak it with grace and love. And so we are told that Samuel became a trustworthy prophet, one who “let none of his words fall to the ground.”
But of course, that is then and this is now. God speaking directly to a little boy! Could that possibly happen in our day and age? I do not know whether this story is true, but it rings true. A young woman was sitting in an airport terminal, waiting to board a plane. She saw a stewardess pushing a wheelchair. In it sat an old man. He was unkempt, his long white hair in a tangled mess. God spoke to her. “Go and brush that old man’s hair.”
She tried to ignore the voice, but it kept nagging at her. She went over to the man and asked if she could brush his hair. He was rather hard of hearing, so she had to ask several times. By this time, everyone waiting to board the plane was watching. She was embarrassed, but she knew it was what she had to do, and so she persisted.
He agreed that she could brush his hair. She realized that she had no brush. The old man said to her, "Look in the bag hanging on the back of my chair, there is a brush in there." She began to brush all the tangles out of his hair. As his hair was being brushed, the old man began to cry.
He said to her, "You know, I am on my way home to go and see my wife. I have been in the hospital recovering from surgery. My wife couldn't come with me, because she is so frail herself." He said, "I was so worried about how terrible my hair looked, and I didn't want her to see me looking so awful, but I couldn't brush my hair, all by myself."
As they were boarding the plane the stewardess said to the young woman, “What made you do that?” She explained that God had spoken to her. She had simply responded.
But you know! My experience is that God is not always that direct. God finds other ways to get us to respond. Take for example, the call of Nathanael! Nathanael’s first response to Jesus is scorn. “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” It could very well have ended there. However, Philip invited him to come and see, to find out more about this Jesus he serves, to change his mind about Nazareth. Philip did not argue with him. He did not preach at him. He knew the good that is in Jesus. He also knew that no amount of arguing could ever change Nathanael’s mind. Instead he issued an invitation. “Come and see!” See for yourself. Nathanael’s curiosity was piqued. He accepted the invitation.
It is an invitation to do more than just come for a visit. It is an opportunity to gain insight into the mind and purpose of God. For Nathanael it was truly a miracle, an epiphany. Nathanael opened up his heart to the grace of God. He came into relationship with God. It was an epiphany that apparently changed his life, for he was one of the disciples who was there as a witness to the resurrection.
That invitation is so vital. So often the message of Christianity is a negative one. It really is not difficult to get people to hear a message of repentance. If you shout loud enough and long enough people will hear. The question is will they really come and see? If we want our church to grow, people need to hear and respond to the call of God. The call to ‘come and see’ needs to be a personal invitation. If people are not interested in responding to God, are we as a church going about it in the right way? People will respond if they see something in our lives that speaks to them about the love of God. They want to see something of God’s love and power in our lives, in the things we say and do, in our love and concern. They want to see that we are living our lives in an authentic manner.
That means that the church, this church, St. George’s in Newcastle, must be a place that shows the love of God in action. Do they look at us and say “I know they are Christians by their love”? Or do they see us wrangling and fighting amongst ourselves and run in the other direction? They need to smell God on us. People are hungry for God, for that sense of peace that comes with a relationship with a God who is Emmanuel, God-with-us. It may take some soul searching on our part. It will certainly take the healing presence of God amongst us.
“There is a story told about a famous monastery which has fallen on hard times. Once a great order, it’s many buildings had been filled with young monks, but now it was nearly deserted. Visitors no longer came there to be nourished by prayer. A handful of old monks shuffled through the cloisters and praised God with heavy hearts. It was just a matter of time until their community would die out.
On the edge of the monastery woods, an old rabbi had built a little hut. No one ever spoke with him, but the monks felt somehow assured by his prayerful presence.
As the leader, the Abbot of the monastery agonized over the future, it occurred to him to go visit the rabbi. Perhaps he could offer some word of advice. So one day after morning prayers, the Abbot set out to visit the rabbi.
As he approached the hut, the Abbot saw the rabbi standing in the doorway, his arms outstretched in welcome. And the rabbi motioned the Abbot to enter.
They sat there for a moment in silence, until finally the rabbi said: “You and your brothers are serving God with heavy hearts. You have come to ask a teaching of me. I will give you this teaching, but you can only repeat it once. After that no one must say it aloud again.”
The rabbi looked straight at the rabbi and said, “The Messiah is among you.” For a while all was silent. Then the rabbi said, “ Now you must go.” The abbot left without a word.
The next morning, the abbot called his monks together in the chapter room. He told them he had received a teaching from “ the rabbi who walks in the woods”, and that after he told it his teaching was never again to be spoken aloud. Then he looked at each of his brothers and said, “ The rabbi said that the Messiah is among us!”
In the days, and weeks, and months that followed, the monks pondered this riddle, and wondered what it could mean. The messiah is among US? Could he have possibly have meant one of us here at the monastery? If that is the case then which one of us is it? Do you suppose that he meant the Abbot? If he meant anyone then he must have meant the Abbot. He has been our leader for more than a generation.
On the other hand he might have meant brother Thomas. Certainly brother Thomas is a holy man. Everyone knows and respects brother Thomas’ keen spirituality and insight.
Certainly he could not have meant brother Elred. Elred gets very crotchety at times. But, when you look back on it, Elred is almost always right, often VERY right. Maybe the rabbi did mean brother Elred.
But surely not brother Phillip. Phillip is so passive, a real nobody. But then, almost mysteriously, he has a gift for somehow always being there when you need him. Maybe Phillip is the messiah.
As they contemplated in this manner, the old monks began to treat each other with extraordinary respect, on the off chance that one of them might actually be the messiah.
As time went by there was a gentle, whole-hearted, human quality about them which was hard to describe but easy to notice. They lived with each other as people who had finally found something. But they prayed and read the Scriptures together as people who were always looking for something.
Now, because the forest in which it is situated is very beautiful, it so happened that people did still occasionally come to visit the monastery. They came to picnic on the lawn, to wander among the paths, even now and again to go into the dilapidated chapel to meditate. Hardly knowing why, they began to come back to the monastery more frequently – to picnic, to play, to pray. As they did so, even without being conscious of it, they sensed this aura of extraordinary humility and respect that now began to surround the old monks, and seemed to radiate out from them and permeate the place. There was something strangely attractive, even compelling about it. They began to bring friends to show them this special place. Before long, people were coming from far and wide to be nourished by the prayer life of the monks.
Some of the younger men who came to visit started talking to the old monks. After a while one asked if he could join them. Then another. And then another. More and more young men were asking, once again, to become part of the community. Within a few years, the monastery had once again become a striving order and, thanks to the rabbi’s gift, a vibrant center of light and spirituality in that area.”
God is among us. What difference does it make in our lives? Do we see Christ in those around us? Do they see Christ in us? May we hear and respond to God’s call! Amen.
Readings: 1 Samuel 3:1-10; Psalm 139:1-6, 13-18; 1 Corinthians 6:12-20; John 1:43-51
During the season of Epiphany the theme of call is a recurring motif. Today’s readings are no exception. There is the story of God’s call to the child Samuel in the Shiloh temple. Then the psalmist reflects on God’s infinite care of all of humanity. There is a sense in the psalm that there is no way to avoid God’s call, for our God is inescapable. Even when we are developing in the womb God knows us. God sustains us throughout our lives. At night when our problems loom in the darkness, God is with us. From birth to death, God is there, sustaining us. In the New Testament Paul reminds the Christian community in Corinth of their call to abide by God’s law. It is a call to holiness, to live our lives differently from the way the world lives, to be accountable to God. And the Gospel focuses on Nathanael, called by God even though he scorns the very idea that Christ or Christianity could have any bearing on his life. In all of them, there is that sense that our inescapable God continues at every stage of our lives to call us into relationship.
We are used to calls, at least the kind that come over the telephone. These days we do not leave home without our cell phones. We are constantly in communication with family and friends, not just with a call, but even more likely by text. But when it comes to talking to God, to being in communication with God, we don’t even understand what it means. To be called by God! What does it mean? How does it happen? The answer is of course, in as many ways and through as many people as it takes God to get through to us.
The call of Samuel is a wonderful example of how God uses others to help us respond. When Samuel was three years old his mother Hannah took him to live in the Shiloh temple fulfilling her promise to God. Eli had two sons who served in the temple. However, their greed had given the temple a bad name. Eli had not spoken out about their misbehaviour, and was in disfavour with God. He may have been in disfavour, but the lamp of God had not gone out in his life. When the child, Samuel heard God speak, Eli was able to help him understand that it was God speaking. As Samuel lay in the dark of the night he heard his name spoken. He went in to Eli to see what the old man needed. “I didn’t call you,” Eli told him. “Go back to bed.” It was not until the third time that Samuel came into him that Eli realized that it was the voice of God Samuel was hearing. Eli’s sight may have been dim, but he still had insight. “If God calls you again,” he said, “you shall say, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.” Samuel responded to God’s call and became a faithful servant.
Not that it was easy for Samuel, for God told Samuel about his displeasure at the behaviour of Eli and his sons. It is difficult to be a prophet, to speak the truth that God wants us to speak. It is even more difficult to speak it with grace and love. And so we are told that Samuel became a trustworthy prophet, one who “let none of his words fall to the ground.”
But of course, that is then and this is now. God speaking directly to a little boy! Could that possibly happen in our day and age? I do not know whether this story is true, but it rings true. A young woman was sitting in an airport terminal, waiting to board a plane. She saw a stewardess pushing a wheelchair. In it sat an old man. He was unkempt, his long white hair in a tangled mess. God spoke to her. “Go and brush that old man’s hair.”
She tried to ignore the voice, but it kept nagging at her. She went over to the man and asked if she could brush his hair. He was rather hard of hearing, so she had to ask several times. By this time, everyone waiting to board the plane was watching. She was embarrassed, but she knew it was what she had to do, and so she persisted.
He agreed that she could brush his hair. She realized that she had no brush. The old man said to her, "Look in the bag hanging on the back of my chair, there is a brush in there." She began to brush all the tangles out of his hair. As his hair was being brushed, the old man began to cry.
He said to her, "You know, I am on my way home to go and see my wife. I have been in the hospital recovering from surgery. My wife couldn't come with me, because she is so frail herself." He said, "I was so worried about how terrible my hair looked, and I didn't want her to see me looking so awful, but I couldn't brush my hair, all by myself."
As they were boarding the plane the stewardess said to the young woman, “What made you do that?” She explained that God had spoken to her. She had simply responded.
But you know! My experience is that God is not always that direct. God finds other ways to get us to respond. Take for example, the call of Nathanael! Nathanael’s first response to Jesus is scorn. “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” It could very well have ended there. However, Philip invited him to come and see, to find out more about this Jesus he serves, to change his mind about Nazareth. Philip did not argue with him. He did not preach at him. He knew the good that is in Jesus. He also knew that no amount of arguing could ever change Nathanael’s mind. Instead he issued an invitation. “Come and see!” See for yourself. Nathanael’s curiosity was piqued. He accepted the invitation.
It is an invitation to do more than just come for a visit. It is an opportunity to gain insight into the mind and purpose of God. For Nathanael it was truly a miracle, an epiphany. Nathanael opened up his heart to the grace of God. He came into relationship with God. It was an epiphany that apparently changed his life, for he was one of the disciples who was there as a witness to the resurrection.
That invitation is so vital. So often the message of Christianity is a negative one. It really is not difficult to get people to hear a message of repentance. If you shout loud enough and long enough people will hear. The question is will they really come and see? If we want our church to grow, people need to hear and respond to the call of God. The call to ‘come and see’ needs to be a personal invitation. If people are not interested in responding to God, are we as a church going about it in the right way? People will respond if they see something in our lives that speaks to them about the love of God. They want to see something of God’s love and power in our lives, in the things we say and do, in our love and concern. They want to see that we are living our lives in an authentic manner.
That means that the church, this church, St. George’s in Newcastle, must be a place that shows the love of God in action. Do they look at us and say “I know they are Christians by their love”? Or do they see us wrangling and fighting amongst ourselves and run in the other direction? They need to smell God on us. People are hungry for God, for that sense of peace that comes with a relationship with a God who is Emmanuel, God-with-us. It may take some soul searching on our part. It will certainly take the healing presence of God amongst us.
“There is a story told about a famous monastery which has fallen on hard times. Once a great order, it’s many buildings had been filled with young monks, but now it was nearly deserted. Visitors no longer came there to be nourished by prayer. A handful of old monks shuffled through the cloisters and praised God with heavy hearts. It was just a matter of time until their community would die out.
On the edge of the monastery woods, an old rabbi had built a little hut. No one ever spoke with him, but the monks felt somehow assured by his prayerful presence.
As the leader, the Abbot of the monastery agonized over the future, it occurred to him to go visit the rabbi. Perhaps he could offer some word of advice. So one day after morning prayers, the Abbot set out to visit the rabbi.
As he approached the hut, the Abbot saw the rabbi standing in the doorway, his arms outstretched in welcome. And the rabbi motioned the Abbot to enter.
They sat there for a moment in silence, until finally the rabbi said: “You and your brothers are serving God with heavy hearts. You have come to ask a teaching of me. I will give you this teaching, but you can only repeat it once. After that no one must say it aloud again.”
The rabbi looked straight at the rabbi and said, “The Messiah is among you.” For a while all was silent. Then the rabbi said, “ Now you must go.” The abbot left without a word.
The next morning, the abbot called his monks together in the chapter room. He told them he had received a teaching from “ the rabbi who walks in the woods”, and that after he told it his teaching was never again to be spoken aloud. Then he looked at each of his brothers and said, “ The rabbi said that the Messiah is among us!”
In the days, and weeks, and months that followed, the monks pondered this riddle, and wondered what it could mean. The messiah is among US? Could he have possibly have meant one of us here at the monastery? If that is the case then which one of us is it? Do you suppose that he meant the Abbot? If he meant anyone then he must have meant the Abbot. He has been our leader for more than a generation.
On the other hand he might have meant brother Thomas. Certainly brother Thomas is a holy man. Everyone knows and respects brother Thomas’ keen spirituality and insight.
Certainly he could not have meant brother Elred. Elred gets very crotchety at times. But, when you look back on it, Elred is almost always right, often VERY right. Maybe the rabbi did mean brother Elred.
But surely not brother Phillip. Phillip is so passive, a real nobody. But then, almost mysteriously, he has a gift for somehow always being there when you need him. Maybe Phillip is the messiah.
As they contemplated in this manner, the old monks began to treat each other with extraordinary respect, on the off chance that one of them might actually be the messiah.
As time went by there was a gentle, whole-hearted, human quality about them which was hard to describe but easy to notice. They lived with each other as people who had finally found something. But they prayed and read the Scriptures together as people who were always looking for something.
Now, because the forest in which it is situated is very beautiful, it so happened that people did still occasionally come to visit the monastery. They came to picnic on the lawn, to wander among the paths, even now and again to go into the dilapidated chapel to meditate. Hardly knowing why, they began to come back to the monastery more frequently – to picnic, to play, to pray. As they did so, even without being conscious of it, they sensed this aura of extraordinary humility and respect that now began to surround the old monks, and seemed to radiate out from them and permeate the place. There was something strangely attractive, even compelling about it. They began to bring friends to show them this special place. Before long, people were coming from far and wide to be nourished by the prayer life of the monks.
Some of the younger men who came to visit started talking to the old monks. After a while one asked if he could join them. Then another. And then another. More and more young men were asking, once again, to become part of the community. Within a few years, the monastery had once again become a striving order and, thanks to the rabbi’s gift, a vibrant center of light and spirituality in that area.”
God is among us. What difference does it make in our lives? Do we see Christ in those around us? Do they see Christ in us? May we hear and respond to God’s call! Amen.
Friday, January 5, 2018
The Baptism of the Lord, Year B
The Spirit Working in Us
Readings: Genesis 1:1-5; Psalm 29; Acts 19:1-7; Mark 1:4-11
Yesterday the Feast of the Epiphany, the visitation of the Magi to the Holy Family, and the Sundays that follow it celebrate the revealing of God's incarnate self to humanity, the unfolding of the great mystery of the Incarnation. It is an unfolding, not only to the people of Israel, but also to the whole world.
Today we are focusing on the Baptism of the Lord. It is a fitting celebration as we bring Isaac into the body of Christ through baptism and renew our own baptismal promises. We read in Scripture of how God is revealed to us through the working of the Holy Spirit in our lives. In the Old Testament reading, the spirit is revealed as “a wind from God which swept over the face of the waters.” The creating spirit of God hovered over the waters, the source of life. In the reading from the Acts of the Apostles, Paul points out to the people of Ephesus that the Holy Spirit should have been the great gift of their baptism. He is surprised to find their lack of understanding at how God is revealed. He wants them to experience the Holy Spirit in their lives as a gift of grace. Finally in the Gospel, God is made manifest through the baptism of Jesus in the Jordan River.
The Jews were constantly looking for God’s revelation. But they came to a time in their spiritual life as we all do when God seemed not to be present with them. As God became more and more absent in their lives, they looked back with yearning to the days of the prophets when God had been very much a part of their experience. They felt as if the Holy Spirit had been absent since those days. The voice of God which had spoken to the prophets was heard now only as an echo. They looked for the time when the sky would be opened and God would once more speak directly to the people.
And then it happened. Jesus came to John to be baptized. The heavens opened. The dove hovered over him. God called out words of affirmation. “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” Clearly in Mark’s Gospel the voice is Jesus’ personal experience. The onlookers are unaware of what is happening. But we who read the Gospel are to understand it as a revelation, an epiphany, a manifestation to us, the people of God. Through it we are to understand Jesus’ unique relationship to God, and his call to ministry.
But we are called to understand far more. For this incident in our Lord’s life is within the experience of each of us. We are intended to experience that same descent of the dove in our lives. We are to experience God’s presence in our lives. How is God revealed to us? Where for us is the deep sense of peace, the sense that our wills and that of God are in harmony? Where is the sense of a presence from whom we receive affirmation of our call to ministry?
When I was leaving my teaching position to prepare for ordination my colleagues had a farewell for me. One of my good friends gave me a lovely gift, a glass swan on a mirror. She explained that it was intended as a ‘marker’. Her mother had always marked special occasions in her life, graduation, changes in her job and so on, with something that she could treasure and keep. She wanted me to have such a marker for my own life. I do treasure that keepsake that she gave me. Yet I know that in my life is a far more significant ‘marker’, one that in pursuing ordination I was attempting to live out. For at my baptism I was marked with the sign of the cross and made Christ’s own forever.
So I want to remind the Harper’s as they bring Isaac for baptism, that from today on there is a marker in his life. I want to remind them first of all that baptism is a sacramental act. There is an outward and visible sign, the water that is used to remind us of our need to be renewed, to be cleansed, to die to sin, to be reborn. But there is also that invisible ‘marker’, that inward and spiritual grace that is given and that carries us throughout our lives.
In one of the parishes I served, I baptised a four year old. He came to the preparation. One of the things that I showed him was the oil of chrism that I would use on his forehead. I said that it would become a marker in his life, a permanent reminder of his baptism. That made an impression on him, for a couple of years later he showed me his forehead and asked if I could still see the marker. As we are baptised we become part of the new life in Christ. We share in Christ’s power through the baptismal covenant. We are called by baptism to serve. It is, in effect, our ordination, a beginning of our ministry.
At baptism we are promised God’s gift of grace working in our lives. However, like the Ephesians we may not even be aware that there is a Holy Spirit at work in our lives. What is more, our lack of commitment to spiritual things may make it difficult for others to see God in us. We separate the Spirit from our mainline faith traditions, relegating it to the naïve or to certain denominations. Oh! We trot the Spirit out at Pentecost! But we are suspicious of people who are overly enthusiastic about the faith. We are suspicious of people who study scripture, who pray, and who share their faith. Or we think that we simply do not know enough about our faith to share it with anyone and we are certainly not going to expose our lack of knowledge by attending a Bible Study or a Prayer meeting.
How do we recover that sense of the presence and power of the Holy Spirit as the source of our gifts? We need to experience the Holy Spirit at work in us with the understanding that such encounters with God are God’s gift to every Christian. We need to expect that God will meet us in our everyday lives. God is constantly revealed to us and in us to others. Each new discovery takes us deeper into relationship with God. It is not about knowing everything there is to know about God; it is about knowing God. What a great thing that is to experience in our lives!
No matter at what stage of our Christian life we may be, there is possible a deeper encounter with God who waits to enter our experience. We must be prepared to search and to be open to such a possibility. We cannot be self-satisfied. We must journey into a maturing and deepening spirituality. Each new discovery takes us deeper. It becomes a new beginning, a new birthing, a renewal of our baptism.
In a few minutes we will welcome into the body of Christ our newest member, Isaac. As his parents and sponsors promise on his behalf, we will renew our baptismal covenant. May it bring to us that deep sense of peace, that sense that our wills and that of God are in harmony, that sense of the presence of God in our lives, and our willingness to become all that God calls us to be. May it be a time when we understand that we are beloved children of God! May it be an epiphany for each one of us! Amen.
Readings: Genesis 1:1-5; Psalm 29; Acts 19:1-7; Mark 1:4-11
Yesterday the Feast of the Epiphany, the visitation of the Magi to the Holy Family, and the Sundays that follow it celebrate the revealing of God's incarnate self to humanity, the unfolding of the great mystery of the Incarnation. It is an unfolding, not only to the people of Israel, but also to the whole world.
Today we are focusing on the Baptism of the Lord. It is a fitting celebration as we bring Isaac into the body of Christ through baptism and renew our own baptismal promises. We read in Scripture of how God is revealed to us through the working of the Holy Spirit in our lives. In the Old Testament reading, the spirit is revealed as “a wind from God which swept over the face of the waters.” The creating spirit of God hovered over the waters, the source of life. In the reading from the Acts of the Apostles, Paul points out to the people of Ephesus that the Holy Spirit should have been the great gift of their baptism. He is surprised to find their lack of understanding at how God is revealed. He wants them to experience the Holy Spirit in their lives as a gift of grace. Finally in the Gospel, God is made manifest through the baptism of Jesus in the Jordan River.
The Jews were constantly looking for God’s revelation. But they came to a time in their spiritual life as we all do when God seemed not to be present with them. As God became more and more absent in their lives, they looked back with yearning to the days of the prophets when God had been very much a part of their experience. They felt as if the Holy Spirit had been absent since those days. The voice of God which had spoken to the prophets was heard now only as an echo. They looked for the time when the sky would be opened and God would once more speak directly to the people.
And then it happened. Jesus came to John to be baptized. The heavens opened. The dove hovered over him. God called out words of affirmation. “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” Clearly in Mark’s Gospel the voice is Jesus’ personal experience. The onlookers are unaware of what is happening. But we who read the Gospel are to understand it as a revelation, an epiphany, a manifestation to us, the people of God. Through it we are to understand Jesus’ unique relationship to God, and his call to ministry.
But we are called to understand far more. For this incident in our Lord’s life is within the experience of each of us. We are intended to experience that same descent of the dove in our lives. We are to experience God’s presence in our lives. How is God revealed to us? Where for us is the deep sense of peace, the sense that our wills and that of God are in harmony? Where is the sense of a presence from whom we receive affirmation of our call to ministry?
When I was leaving my teaching position to prepare for ordination my colleagues had a farewell for me. One of my good friends gave me a lovely gift, a glass swan on a mirror. She explained that it was intended as a ‘marker’. Her mother had always marked special occasions in her life, graduation, changes in her job and so on, with something that she could treasure and keep. She wanted me to have such a marker for my own life. I do treasure that keepsake that she gave me. Yet I know that in my life is a far more significant ‘marker’, one that in pursuing ordination I was attempting to live out. For at my baptism I was marked with the sign of the cross and made Christ’s own forever.
So I want to remind the Harper’s as they bring Isaac for baptism, that from today on there is a marker in his life. I want to remind them first of all that baptism is a sacramental act. There is an outward and visible sign, the water that is used to remind us of our need to be renewed, to be cleansed, to die to sin, to be reborn. But there is also that invisible ‘marker’, that inward and spiritual grace that is given and that carries us throughout our lives.
In one of the parishes I served, I baptised a four year old. He came to the preparation. One of the things that I showed him was the oil of chrism that I would use on his forehead. I said that it would become a marker in his life, a permanent reminder of his baptism. That made an impression on him, for a couple of years later he showed me his forehead and asked if I could still see the marker. As we are baptised we become part of the new life in Christ. We share in Christ’s power through the baptismal covenant. We are called by baptism to serve. It is, in effect, our ordination, a beginning of our ministry.
At baptism we are promised God’s gift of grace working in our lives. However, like the Ephesians we may not even be aware that there is a Holy Spirit at work in our lives. What is more, our lack of commitment to spiritual things may make it difficult for others to see God in us. We separate the Spirit from our mainline faith traditions, relegating it to the naïve or to certain denominations. Oh! We trot the Spirit out at Pentecost! But we are suspicious of people who are overly enthusiastic about the faith. We are suspicious of people who study scripture, who pray, and who share their faith. Or we think that we simply do not know enough about our faith to share it with anyone and we are certainly not going to expose our lack of knowledge by attending a Bible Study or a Prayer meeting.
How do we recover that sense of the presence and power of the Holy Spirit as the source of our gifts? We need to experience the Holy Spirit at work in us with the understanding that such encounters with God are God’s gift to every Christian. We need to expect that God will meet us in our everyday lives. God is constantly revealed to us and in us to others. Each new discovery takes us deeper into relationship with God. It is not about knowing everything there is to know about God; it is about knowing God. What a great thing that is to experience in our lives!
No matter at what stage of our Christian life we may be, there is possible a deeper encounter with God who waits to enter our experience. We must be prepared to search and to be open to such a possibility. We cannot be self-satisfied. We must journey into a maturing and deepening spirituality. Each new discovery takes us deeper. It becomes a new beginning, a new birthing, a renewal of our baptism.
In a few minutes we will welcome into the body of Christ our newest member, Isaac. As his parents and sponsors promise on his behalf, we will renew our baptismal covenant. May it bring to us that deep sense of peace, that sense that our wills and that of God are in harmony, that sense of the presence of God in our lives, and our willingness to become all that God calls us to be. May it be a time when we understand that we are beloved children of God! May it be an epiphany for each one of us! Amen.
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