**this sermon is based, in large part, on an essay written by Kae Evensen in the 2.23.10 issue of The Christian Century
+I am no astronomer but I do know that the night sky, the beautiful wash of stars we see above are actually the stars as they existed thousands and in some cases millions of years ago, The light which emanates from these stars, most of which are millions of miles from earth can take many thousands of light years to reach earth. Now be careful…if you are anything like me, trying to wrap your brain around this information may make you dizzy. The bottom line is, the light produced by the stars Abram gazed upon? It quite possibly has not reached earth yet. The light, which holds that promise of God, has yet to arrive. God’s promise is still unfolding!! God was and is and is to come, and just when we think we’ve gotten a handle on what this whole God thing means to us, we hear something like the speed of light and what that means about the sky we think we are seeing as it is RIGHT now, and our whole perspective is blown to bits.
Homiletics professor and Lutheran pastor Kae Evensen says that the light of that sky, the sky of Abram and Sarai, the sky of Genesis, the sky of that promise, that first covenant of God, is the promise of things to come. All that has happened from Abraham and Sarah to Mary and Joseph to all our ancestors, to all those who have walked before us, fuels what is to come.
Even the doubts.
Abram, a man of deep faith who clearly had found favor with God, had doubts. The world, as he experienced it, was often overwhelming. We hear it today, after his encounter with God, when Abram falls into a deep sleep and a “deep and terrifying darkness descended upon him.” Abram was scared out of his wits. Abram, was having a dark night of the soul. A night so dark, that even the promise of God couldn’t keep the fear at bay.
Oddly, I find this comforting. That all of who have come before, even the greatest prophets of all, had doubts. Jesus himself had doubts. The human condition promises that we’ll doubt, we’ll fear, that we’ll have our share of dark nights and terrifying dreams. And so, like many who have come before us, and, I’m sure, those who will come after, we try very hard to keep those fears and doubts ---which lurk just around the corner of our consciousness—at bay.
And we do this by being busy, by keeping the volume of our lives turned way up. We do this by avoiding silence, by resisting the quieting of our souls.
The nature of our humanity is to fear the silence, to resist the dark and to recoil from the reaching out of God’s embrace. But, as one author has put it: God’s habit is to draw near. God does not want to and will not stay out of reach in the heavens.
While it may be difficult for us to fathom the extent of God’s love for us, I think the metaphor of mother hen, which is used several times in scripture and is referenced by Jesus in today’s Gospel, is helpful. For whether you are a mother, or have witnessed the love a mother has for her children , this image rings true. Have you ever gotten in between a mother and her chicks, cubs, pups, child? Have you ever mistakenly suggested to a mother how she may better parent her child? Have you ever, whether inadvertently or not, ticked off a mother?
It isn’t pretty.
Because a mother’s love for her child is an instinctual gut level love. There isn’t anything intellectual about it. It just is.
God’s love for us is the same: God desires nothing more than to gather us—each of us---under the loving expanse of God’s wings, protecting us from harm, holding us close.
It’s warm under those wings, cozy….but before you know it, that warmth, that coziness begins to stifle, our own reach feels stymied and we struggle to break free and to wander out on our own. And God, like any loving parent, let’s us go because God knows that is just what we need to do….for God also knows that one day, when perhaps we’ve wandered just a tad too far and we no longer feel sure, when we’re engulfed in a deep darkness, when we no longer feel safe, we’ll come running back, eager to scurry under those outstretched wings, ready to feel the comforting embrace of our creator.
Jesus’ use of this image comes as he laments all that Jerusalem has seen all that Jerusalem has done, and all that has yet to happen there to him. Jesus cries this lament with his face firmly turned toward that city of his forebears, that city which destroys prophets, that city which has rejected God’s love time and time again. I don’t know how much Jesus knew about his fate in Jerusalem. Yes, he knew that he would be martyred there, and perhaps he even knew that his friends would abandon him one by one. But I wonder, did Jesus realize how much all of that would hurt? Did Jesus realize how painful abandonment is, how scary loneliness is, how dark the night would become in Gethsemene?
Did God know how much all of this would hurt Jesus? Did God know how much that hurt would pain Him?
Does any parent?
This vulnerable flesh and bones incarnation of God had a dark night. This God in the person of Jesus, felt the terror of Abram. Jesus felt the loneliness of an existence where God can seem so far away, so absent. And Jesus, this God made man, knew how terrifying silence could be. But Jesus also walked through that dark night. Jesus endured that silence and came out the other side. Jesus dove into the depths of death, emerging from it so that we, no matter how lost we may feel, no matter how scared we may be, no matter how mad we may act, can look into the night sky and remember that no matter how far we feel from God, God is, always has been and always will be right here. Sometimes we just have to get quiet enough, still enough and sometimes, scared enough, to notice.
In the darkest of nights, we need only look to the stars and realize that the light we see from those stars is the light of Abraham, it is the light of our ancestors. No matter how lost we may feel, how lonely it might seem how long and hard the road is, we have the company of all those who have gone before us, all those who, themselves, had many a dark and lonely night. And somewhere, through the darkness, they, too were warmed by the light of those who had gone before. +
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Sunday, February 14, 2010
Life Happens in the Valley TranSfiguration Sunday 2010
Today is a day of bookends. With the Transfiguration of Christ we have a glimpse-- along with Peter, James and John-- Christ’s glory, to be fully revealed on Easter morning. But with the Transfiguration and God’s proclamation that this Jesus is His Chosen and we are to listen to him reminds us of God’s anointing of Jesus at his baptism. On this last Sunday in Epiphany, the season of Christ manifested in the world, on this Sunday before Lent, our 40 day journey to Calvary; we look ahead, we glance behind and we take stock of where we are in our own faith journeys, considering how Christ’s glory is manifested in our daily lives.
Episcopal priest Adam Thomas, writing in a recent issue of the Christian Century magazine, says that the Transfiguration isn’t so much about the change in Jesus’ appearance, or about the appearance of Moses and Elijah, or even about the proclamation of God in the cloud. …instead, says Thomas, the Transfiguration is about how a glimpse of the Holy, an experience of the Divine, transformed the disciples, and how it can transform us. There is no doubt that exposure to the Holy, to the Divine, casts a physical change—Moses’ skin shone, Jesus’ face and clothes glisten with a whiteness beyond description—but the real change, the everlasting change, is what happens internally, spiritually, when one confronts the sacred--is in the presence of the Holy. What matters is how that experience changes us, how we carry that experience with us in our day-to-day lives.
According to Biblical scholar Fred Craddock, mountain top experiences are fine and dandy , but where the rubber really meets the road is what happens when we come down off the mountain, when we enter the valley; where the light has faded, the sheen dulled and the dirt and grime of daily life takes over.
Craddock and Thomas are on to something here…because Christianity isn’t about mountaintops, it’s about valleys. If it was about mountaintops then Jesus wouldn’t have been born in a barn, to peasant parents from a backwater town. If our faith was about mountaintops Jesus would not have been executed like a common criminal, hung on a tree, mocked and scourged. If our faith was all about mountaintops Jesus’ followers wouldn’t have been a doubting band of disciples who fell asleep at a drop of a hat, doubted at the slightest turn of fortune or denied their teacher in times of greatest need. No this faith of ours is definitely the faith of the valley. This faith of ours gets lived out in our day-to-day lives because Christianity is less about fancy and more about simple.
Unfortunately we often forget that even down here in the valley, sacred things happen all the time. The Holy can pop up anywhere.
The retired Bishop of Maine, Chilton Knudsen, recently posted an article about her visit with Rev. Fernande Sanon Pierre-Louis, the only woman priest in Haiti, principal of Holy Trinity School and a survivor of last month’s earthquake. Bishop Chilton visited Mother Fernande in Montreal where she is recuperating at her son’s home. Chilton remarked that, while visiting this woman of grace and courage, she felt as if she should remove her shoes, for surely, to quote Bp Chilton, it was Holy Ground where this simple unassuming woman of God walked. The sacred isn’t usually glamorous and the Holy needn’t be in some transfigured glory. Usually, God is just right here, walking with us on our journey through the valley of life.
But, who can blame Peter for wanting to erect tents, to freeze the moment of glory atop the mountain, to linger in the wisdom and wonder of Elijah, Moses and Jesus? That’s far more appealing than going back down among the demanding, misunderstanding crowds. Peter must think—this is it…Jesus will be crowned King and soon all the oppressors, the high priests, the governor and the emperor will be brought down to their knees and they, this rag tag band of tentmakers, fishermen tax collectors and women will rise to glory, led by the King of Kings. Once again Peter says the right thing but then does the wrong thing. Because Peter, just like all of us, sees the Transfiguration but fails to feel the transformation.
Everyone has experienced this in one form or another---we have some momentous experience—a moment when we feel that we have been truly touched by God and we swear, we swear that this is it, we will change our ways, we’ll never forget this, we’ll turn over a new leaf…but it doesn’t last. It doesn’t last because the high of that moment, the amazing moment of awareness that shining moment of enlightenment cannot be sustained. It can’t be sustained because it isn’t on the mountaintop where life happens, it’s down in the valley.
That’s why our Gospel reading today is so long. The designers of our lectionary allow us to end the Gospel reading just as Jesus James John and Peter are heading down the mountain, but today we keep going, we listen to the “rest of the story. “ They arrive at the foot of the moment to a throng of people, especially a father crying out to Jesus to heal his demon-afflicted son. A healing the other disciples had been unable to achieve.
And it is here, at this point of our Gospel lesson, that the true meaning of transformation becomes clear. All the experiences of the Holy, all the sacred feelings, all the Transfigurations will not heal this world. What heals this world is a people who do as God directed on the mountain, to Listen to His Son, his Chosen One. We are to love one another as he loves us, we are to love our God with all our heart and with all our soul and with all our mind. We are to find the sacred in the mundane, we are to find the holy in the ordinary and we are to be transformed by the routine. For our faith is not the faith of royalty, it is the faith of peasants. Ours is not the faith of the powerful, it is the faith of the weak and it is not the faith of the mountaintop it is the faith of the valley.
So today we put our alleluias away for awhile and we live into the fullness of the incarnation as we journey with Jesus to Jerusalem, the cross and the tomb. Today we climb off the mountaintop of the nativity and the Epiphany to walk this walk in the valley, not a walk of despair and hopelessness but a walk of faith, faith that we are following the Chosen One and that we, along with him, are God’s beloved.
Amen
Episcopal priest Adam Thomas, writing in a recent issue of the Christian Century magazine, says that the Transfiguration isn’t so much about the change in Jesus’ appearance, or about the appearance of Moses and Elijah, or even about the proclamation of God in the cloud. …instead, says Thomas, the Transfiguration is about how a glimpse of the Holy, an experience of the Divine, transformed the disciples, and how it can transform us. There is no doubt that exposure to the Holy, to the Divine, casts a physical change—Moses’ skin shone, Jesus’ face and clothes glisten with a whiteness beyond description—but the real change, the everlasting change, is what happens internally, spiritually, when one confronts the sacred--is in the presence of the Holy. What matters is how that experience changes us, how we carry that experience with us in our day-to-day lives.
According to Biblical scholar Fred Craddock, mountain top experiences are fine and dandy , but where the rubber really meets the road is what happens when we come down off the mountain, when we enter the valley; where the light has faded, the sheen dulled and the dirt and grime of daily life takes over.
Craddock and Thomas are on to something here…because Christianity isn’t about mountaintops, it’s about valleys. If it was about mountaintops then Jesus wouldn’t have been born in a barn, to peasant parents from a backwater town. If our faith was about mountaintops Jesus would not have been executed like a common criminal, hung on a tree, mocked and scourged. If our faith was all about mountaintops Jesus’ followers wouldn’t have been a doubting band of disciples who fell asleep at a drop of a hat, doubted at the slightest turn of fortune or denied their teacher in times of greatest need. No this faith of ours is definitely the faith of the valley. This faith of ours gets lived out in our day-to-day lives because Christianity is less about fancy and more about simple.
Unfortunately we often forget that even down here in the valley, sacred things happen all the time. The Holy can pop up anywhere.
The retired Bishop of Maine, Chilton Knudsen, recently posted an article about her visit with Rev. Fernande Sanon Pierre-Louis, the only woman priest in Haiti, principal of Holy Trinity School and a survivor of last month’s earthquake. Bishop Chilton visited Mother Fernande in Montreal where she is recuperating at her son’s home. Chilton remarked that, while visiting this woman of grace and courage, she felt as if she should remove her shoes, for surely, to quote Bp Chilton, it was Holy Ground where this simple unassuming woman of God walked. The sacred isn’t usually glamorous and the Holy needn’t be in some transfigured glory. Usually, God is just right here, walking with us on our journey through the valley of life.
But, who can blame Peter for wanting to erect tents, to freeze the moment of glory atop the mountain, to linger in the wisdom and wonder of Elijah, Moses and Jesus? That’s far more appealing than going back down among the demanding, misunderstanding crowds. Peter must think—this is it…Jesus will be crowned King and soon all the oppressors, the high priests, the governor and the emperor will be brought down to their knees and they, this rag tag band of tentmakers, fishermen tax collectors and women will rise to glory, led by the King of Kings. Once again Peter says the right thing but then does the wrong thing. Because Peter, just like all of us, sees the Transfiguration but fails to feel the transformation.
Everyone has experienced this in one form or another---we have some momentous experience—a moment when we feel that we have been truly touched by God and we swear, we swear that this is it, we will change our ways, we’ll never forget this, we’ll turn over a new leaf…but it doesn’t last. It doesn’t last because the high of that moment, the amazing moment of awareness that shining moment of enlightenment cannot be sustained. It can’t be sustained because it isn’t on the mountaintop where life happens, it’s down in the valley.
That’s why our Gospel reading today is so long. The designers of our lectionary allow us to end the Gospel reading just as Jesus James John and Peter are heading down the mountain, but today we keep going, we listen to the “rest of the story. “ They arrive at the foot of the moment to a throng of people, especially a father crying out to Jesus to heal his demon-afflicted son. A healing the other disciples had been unable to achieve.
And it is here, at this point of our Gospel lesson, that the true meaning of transformation becomes clear. All the experiences of the Holy, all the sacred feelings, all the Transfigurations will not heal this world. What heals this world is a people who do as God directed on the mountain, to Listen to His Son, his Chosen One. We are to love one another as he loves us, we are to love our God with all our heart and with all our soul and with all our mind. We are to find the sacred in the mundane, we are to find the holy in the ordinary and we are to be transformed by the routine. For our faith is not the faith of royalty, it is the faith of peasants. Ours is not the faith of the powerful, it is the faith of the weak and it is not the faith of the mountaintop it is the faith of the valley.
So today we put our alleluias away for awhile and we live into the fullness of the incarnation as we journey with Jesus to Jerusalem, the cross and the tomb. Today we climb off the mountaintop of the nativity and the Epiphany to walk this walk in the valley, not a walk of despair and hopelessness but a walk of faith, faith that we are following the Chosen One and that we, along with him, are God’s beloved.
Amen
Sunday, January 17, 2010
The Exquisite Love of God, Bursting Out All Over Epiphany 2 Yr C
Mom. C’mon. Stop It. Mom, just leave me alone. It’s a familiar drill. A young adult accompanies his mother to a family event—Thanksgiving, Christmas, a funeral, a wedding---and mom wants junior to show off for the guests. …..the mom is proud as can be and wants the world to know. The son is mortified, preferring to remain in the background, to do his familial duty and then get out of there. Conflict ensues. It’s a drama played out over and over again in our lives.
The Wedding in Cana is no different. Mary feels for the host, who has run out of wine and sees a perfect opportunity for Jesus to reveal his glory and help the host save face. A fully human family conflict played out within the Holy Family.
This story of water being turned into wine is one in a series of Epiphany tales, beginning with the visit of the magi and ending with Jesus’ transfiguration on the mountaintop. Each of these stories point toward one truth of Jesus’ nature—his divinity…but today’s Gospel does something more-- it also discloses his humanity. Jesus responds to his mother with the irritation common in most young adult-parent relationships. While the miracle aspect of this story garners the most attention, the wedding in Cana also serves as a post script to the nativity story, proof that Jesus was fully human as well as fully divine.
Besides today’s Gospel, another familiar story illuminates the fullness of Jesus’ humanity within the fullness of his divinity: the Boy Jesus in the Temple. You remember that story---Jesus and his family travel to the temple for the Passover . As the family heads for home, Mary and Joseph realize Jesus isn’t with them,. Three frantic days later they find him sitting among the teachers, discussing and asking questions. Jesus is incredulous when his mother rebukes him for worrying them feeling that her hysteria was an over-reaction. A typical adolescent response to the worry of a parent.
So, while becoming aware of Jesus’ divinity---the promised messiah--is the usual task in Epiphany, we musn’t forget his humanity.
Since Advent we’ve been told that this was going to happen, a boy, born of a woman would come among us as the Son of God. Fully God, Fully Human.
But hearing this and “getting it” are two different things.
And, that’s what epiphanies are all about ---getting it.
Getting that Jesus is God in the flesh. Getting Jesus feels all that we feel, experiencing the world as a human , while also, through his divinity, transforming us into something altogether new.
And that’s where the miracle at the wedding comes into play. That’s when this miracle—this sign as John calls it---shows us that through the very human person of Jesus, God has chosen to dwell among us, to experience his creation first hand. At a wedding.
But, the wine is running out and the wedding host is in danger of being shamed in a very public way. Although Jesus doesn’t feel that his time has arrived, he acquiesces and saves the day.
But, the miracle at Cana isn’t done simply to save the wedding day….it’s done to show us that this Son of God is here to save us in a completely new way.
The water used in the miracle is in large stone jars used for Jewish rites of purification---a cornerstone of the old covenant… From the restrictions of the old emerges the hope and joy of the new.
Much like new wine bursts old wineskins, God, through Jesus bursts out of the old in a big, abundant and extravagant way. It wasn’t that Jesus created a few extra bottles of wine out of water. Jesus created gallons and gallons of wine---exquisite, fabulous wine, out of those stone jars. This first miracle of Jesus is not just a little something. It’s a whole lot of something big. It’s abundant and it’s bursting out all over.
Because that’s what God gives us. Not just enough, but plenty. Not just ok, but exquisite, not just ordinary but extraordinary.
God as among us in Jesus is abundant, all encompassing and never ending. And through Jesus, we’ve become vessels for God’s love in this world.
Do we understand this? Do we get it? Have we had this epiphany? Does the story of Jesus at this wedding help shake us out of our old way of thinking---does the promise of God’s extravagant abundant love as symbolized in the gallons of exquisite wine—help us realize the truth: That with God and through God we can---and we must---bring hope to the world? Do we get that we CAN make a difference by allowing ourselves to be vessels of God—bursting with an abundance of grace, truth and love?
Jesus walked among us to show us that we, each of us, is a vessel for God in the world. Each and every day we have opportunities to be an overflowing, bursting vessel of God in the world. Whether it’s a kind word to a lonely neighbor, a helping hand to a hurting child, reaching out to a refugee or a donation to Episcopal Relief and Development to assist the rescue work in Haiti, the world always has room for more of God’s love.
For if there is one thing we can take from the humanity of Jesus is that when God’s creation hurts, as the people of Haiti do today, God hurts. And if there’s one thing we can learn from the divinity of Christ it is that each one of us, through prayer and action, can make the devastation of Haiti, the hurting throughout this world bearable.
Today, through the manifestation of God in the person of Jesus Christ, we have the ability to show others the abundance of God’s grace.
May God among us through the person of Jesus Christ give us the strength and the determination to burst out, overflowing with God’s abundant exquisite and extravagant love.
Amen.
The Wedding in Cana is no different. Mary feels for the host, who has run out of wine and sees a perfect opportunity for Jesus to reveal his glory and help the host save face. A fully human family conflict played out within the Holy Family.
This story of water being turned into wine is one in a series of Epiphany tales, beginning with the visit of the magi and ending with Jesus’ transfiguration on the mountaintop. Each of these stories point toward one truth of Jesus’ nature—his divinity…but today’s Gospel does something more-- it also discloses his humanity. Jesus responds to his mother with the irritation common in most young adult-parent relationships. While the miracle aspect of this story garners the most attention, the wedding in Cana also serves as a post script to the nativity story, proof that Jesus was fully human as well as fully divine.
Besides today’s Gospel, another familiar story illuminates the fullness of Jesus’ humanity within the fullness of his divinity: the Boy Jesus in the Temple. You remember that story---Jesus and his family travel to the temple for the Passover . As the family heads for home, Mary and Joseph realize Jesus isn’t with them,. Three frantic days later they find him sitting among the teachers, discussing and asking questions. Jesus is incredulous when his mother rebukes him for worrying them feeling that her hysteria was an over-reaction. A typical adolescent response to the worry of a parent.
So, while becoming aware of Jesus’ divinity---the promised messiah--is the usual task in Epiphany, we musn’t forget his humanity.
Since Advent we’ve been told that this was going to happen, a boy, born of a woman would come among us as the Son of God. Fully God, Fully Human.
But hearing this and “getting it” are two different things.
And, that’s what epiphanies are all about ---getting it.
Getting that Jesus is God in the flesh. Getting Jesus feels all that we feel, experiencing the world as a human , while also, through his divinity, transforming us into something altogether new.
And that’s where the miracle at the wedding comes into play. That’s when this miracle—this sign as John calls it---shows us that through the very human person of Jesus, God has chosen to dwell among us, to experience his creation first hand. At a wedding.
But, the wine is running out and the wedding host is in danger of being shamed in a very public way. Although Jesus doesn’t feel that his time has arrived, he acquiesces and saves the day.
But, the miracle at Cana isn’t done simply to save the wedding day….it’s done to show us that this Son of God is here to save us in a completely new way.
The water used in the miracle is in large stone jars used for Jewish rites of purification---a cornerstone of the old covenant… From the restrictions of the old emerges the hope and joy of the new.
Much like new wine bursts old wineskins, God, through Jesus bursts out of the old in a big, abundant and extravagant way. It wasn’t that Jesus created a few extra bottles of wine out of water. Jesus created gallons and gallons of wine---exquisite, fabulous wine, out of those stone jars. This first miracle of Jesus is not just a little something. It’s a whole lot of something big. It’s abundant and it’s bursting out all over.
Because that’s what God gives us. Not just enough, but plenty. Not just ok, but exquisite, not just ordinary but extraordinary.
God as among us in Jesus is abundant, all encompassing and never ending. And through Jesus, we’ve become vessels for God’s love in this world.
Do we understand this? Do we get it? Have we had this epiphany? Does the story of Jesus at this wedding help shake us out of our old way of thinking---does the promise of God’s extravagant abundant love as symbolized in the gallons of exquisite wine—help us realize the truth: That with God and through God we can---and we must---bring hope to the world? Do we get that we CAN make a difference by allowing ourselves to be vessels of God—bursting with an abundance of grace, truth and love?
Jesus walked among us to show us that we, each of us, is a vessel for God in the world. Each and every day we have opportunities to be an overflowing, bursting vessel of God in the world. Whether it’s a kind word to a lonely neighbor, a helping hand to a hurting child, reaching out to a refugee or a donation to Episcopal Relief and Development to assist the rescue work in Haiti, the world always has room for more of God’s love.
For if there is one thing we can take from the humanity of Jesus is that when God’s creation hurts, as the people of Haiti do today, God hurts. And if there’s one thing we can learn from the divinity of Christ it is that each one of us, through prayer and action, can make the devastation of Haiti, the hurting throughout this world bearable.
Today, through the manifestation of God in the person of Jesus Christ, we have the ability to show others the abundance of God’s grace.
May God among us through the person of Jesus Christ give us the strength and the determination to burst out, overflowing with God’s abundant exquisite and extravagant love.
Amen.
Saturday, January 9, 2010
Baptism---a thought or two.
One of the greatest pleasures of the priesthood is administering the sacrament of baptism. There is the wonder of an infant--all soft and sweet and full of potential-- but then there's also the joy a baptism brings. It isn't that many of us think this baby is doomed to eternal limbo without the sacrament, there is no sense that this little baby has sinned in any way shape or form...no the joy is that "thing" babies bring to the table. Innocence? Possibility? The miracle of life? I don't know what it is specifically, but I do know that, for me, when that child is sealed as Christ's own forever, it is very hard for me to maintain my composure. Of course he is already Christ's own forever, but by publicly annointing him, I get the immense privilege of proclaiming that to the world. The day this doesn't choke me up is the day I should hang up the collar.
God bless Colin and all the innocent, beautiful children of this world.
God bless Colin and all the innocent, beautiful children of this world.
Friday, January 1, 2010
Named by God, Sealed in Christ--Feast of the Holy Name January 1, 2010
+Toward the end of seminary my liturgics professor decided it was time to share some horror stories of being a priest….of the time he spilled an entire chalice of red wine down a brand new, very expensive altar frontal. Of the time instead of throwing a fistful of dirt onto a casket in a graveyard he threw his prayer book, of the various and sundry mishaps common in baptisms—screaming babies, throwing up babies, babies who are so wiggly you pray that you won’t drop them into the font…but one story really sticks out for me. He said that often, especially at a big service like the Easter Vigil when you can have a number of baptisms, and especially nowadays when children are given unfamiliar names, you can, as the priest—or the Bishop---forget the name of the child you are baptizing. It eventually happens to everyone—we have a brain cramp--but this professor of mine said he had a sure fire way to get you out of this awkward situation—just as you are about to administer the baptism say to the parents and Godparents, in a booming and God like voice: “Name this Child.” Now besides getting the priest out of a sticky wicket, this action can be very moving for all involved. This act of initiating the child into a faith while also naming the child, is reflective of our Jewish roots. You see in baptism we, like in the Jewish rite of circumcision, commit the child to our faith tradition and we name the child. These two actions: the naming and the commitment are, for good reason, linked in the circumcision and baptismal rites. For our name says a lot about us, as does the way we choose to worship our creator. Through the action of circumcision and the action of baptism those who love us are saying, this is who this child is and this is how he or she will be known. The commitment to an identity is sealed through our naming ceremony, and the ceremony is determined by our faith. So whether the tradition is of the old covenant or the new, the naming ceremony is important.
The story of the incarnation, the coming of God in the flesh to dwell among us—is all about the old leading us into the new. For the incarnation was then and is now, an ever-unfolding event. We don’t know what will happen next, neither did Mary and Joseph. They had been given snippets but the reality of it all was still unfolding for them. We’re told throughout the Nativity story that, Mary pondered all these things in her heart. No doubt wondering, what in the world does all this mean, what will happen next?
Out of their faith, Mary and Joseph commit themselves and their son to a new way, a new life. Through their repeated acts of faith Mary and Joseph set forth a chain of events that takes us from the wood of the crib, to the wood of the cross, from the Covenant of Moses to the New Covenant of Christ.
Progressing from the old into the new is an appropriate theme for this, the first day of a new year. Mary and Joseph as they have throughout this Advent and Christmas journey, are leading the way out of the old and toward the new. Mary and Joseph follow the traditions of their faith by circumcising and naming their son on the eighth day. But besides honoring the traditions of the old this action also gives us a glimpse into the new--for by calling their son Jesus instead of the more traditional Joseph, Mary and Joseph respond to the directive of God given to them through the angel Gabriel….honoring the old while opening the way for this new thing---this God coming to us in the flesh--Jesus.
Through their faith Mary and Joseph risked everything to follow God’s directive…even though it would take their son from the stable in Bethlehem to that hill in Calvary.
How easy it would have been to ignore Gabriel’s directive, to name Jesus Joseph and to return to Nazareth to raise him with his brothers and sisters a carpenter’s kid, a faithful Jew. A good and simple man. But Mary and Joseph didn’t do this. When asked to name their child, they gave him the name which was given to them. A name which held no family connection, a name they wouldn’t have chosen on their own. A name which from that day forth, became a name to be written on the hearts of generations of the faithful. A name which allows us a glimpse of God, and allows God a glimpse of us. A name which serves as a window between this world and the next, a name which saves us. …a name which seals us as God’s own forever. A name at which every knee shall bend and every head will bow. A name which is written on our hearts and in our souls, a name we carry as we strive to be instruments of God’s justice and mercy in all whom we encounter.
Mary and Joseph took the old: a traditional ceremony of circumcision and naming to unleash something altogether new: the promised messiah, a savior for all people.
Through the actions of the Divine and the response of the lowly today we have been given a new name, we have been marked, sealed as God’s forever. Today a child has been named and through that name God has come to dwell among us, to save us and to shine upon us, forevermore. +
The story of the incarnation, the coming of God in the flesh to dwell among us—is all about the old leading us into the new. For the incarnation was then and is now, an ever-unfolding event. We don’t know what will happen next, neither did Mary and Joseph. They had been given snippets but the reality of it all was still unfolding for them. We’re told throughout the Nativity story that, Mary pondered all these things in her heart. No doubt wondering, what in the world does all this mean, what will happen next?
Out of their faith, Mary and Joseph commit themselves and their son to a new way, a new life. Through their repeated acts of faith Mary and Joseph set forth a chain of events that takes us from the wood of the crib, to the wood of the cross, from the Covenant of Moses to the New Covenant of Christ.
Progressing from the old into the new is an appropriate theme for this, the first day of a new year. Mary and Joseph as they have throughout this Advent and Christmas journey, are leading the way out of the old and toward the new. Mary and Joseph follow the traditions of their faith by circumcising and naming their son on the eighth day. But besides honoring the traditions of the old this action also gives us a glimpse into the new--for by calling their son Jesus instead of the more traditional Joseph, Mary and Joseph respond to the directive of God given to them through the angel Gabriel….honoring the old while opening the way for this new thing---this God coming to us in the flesh--Jesus.
Through their faith Mary and Joseph risked everything to follow God’s directive…even though it would take their son from the stable in Bethlehem to that hill in Calvary.
How easy it would have been to ignore Gabriel’s directive, to name Jesus Joseph and to return to Nazareth to raise him with his brothers and sisters a carpenter’s kid, a faithful Jew. A good and simple man. But Mary and Joseph didn’t do this. When asked to name their child, they gave him the name which was given to them. A name which held no family connection, a name they wouldn’t have chosen on their own. A name which from that day forth, became a name to be written on the hearts of generations of the faithful. A name which allows us a glimpse of God, and allows God a glimpse of us. A name which serves as a window between this world and the next, a name which saves us. …a name which seals us as God’s own forever. A name at which every knee shall bend and every head will bow. A name which is written on our hearts and in our souls, a name we carry as we strive to be instruments of God’s justice and mercy in all whom we encounter.
Mary and Joseph took the old: a traditional ceremony of circumcision and naming to unleash something altogether new: the promised messiah, a savior for all people.
Through the actions of the Divine and the response of the lowly today we have been given a new name, we have been marked, sealed as God’s forever. Today a child has been named and through that name God has come to dwell among us, to save us and to shine upon us, forevermore. +
Saturday, December 26, 2009
Christmas Day, 2009: "It's Just for You."
“What’s this?” “A present for you.” “For me?” “Yes, it’s for you.” “Why?” “ Because I love you very much.”
I’m not sure of the exact words, but this is a reasonable facsimile of a conversation I had with my niece, probably 18 years ago. It was either Christmas or her birthday and I was giving her a present. Presents were kind of new to her, and she didn’t quite get that this was for her. To keep. She was delighted beyond belief with the gift. But it wasn’t the doll or the book or the toy, it wasn’t even the thrill of receiving a gift from another. No for that little girl it was (and I might say, still is for the 21 year old woman she has become) the love which led me to want to give her something. That’s what gave her such a thrill. Out of that love came her unbridled innocent response of joy: “For me? Especially for me?”
Re-reading today’s Gospel story reminded me of this . For what struck me was that this gift as announced to the shepherds in the field that night, is a gift given just for each of us, out of God’s immeasurable love.
And that, the expression of God’s love for us through the birth of Christ, is what the Christmas story is all about.
We hear it loud and clear in today’s Gospel.
-But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people. No need to question, no need to doubt, there is Good News to be had, and it is especially for you and especially for me, and especially for everybody!
-To you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This isn’t just a telling of some removed event --no today a savior has been given to us-- especially for you and especially me.
Luke continues: -This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger."
This savior, this babe wrapped in cloth and lying in a feeding crib is not some out of reach messiah available only for the rich and the powerful, the devout and the pious. This child is especially for us. Especially for you and me.
It is really hard to imagine isn’t it? A messiah not only for the Jews, a savior not only for the Gentiles, a Redeemer who redeems everyone, not only the most pure of hearts, a Lord not only for the most devout but also for the most lax among us, the lost, the doubting, the hurt and the angry. This messiah whose birth we praise today is a gift given especially to you and me. Especially for each everyone of us.
Like Alyssa all those years ago, it’s hard to accept this gift… how did we deserve this wondrous gift?
Of course we didn’t, we haven’t. This gift of Jesus is not anything we earn, it’s not anything we deserve. It is given to us out of love.
And like Alyssa, The appropriate response is to squeal with glee.
And like the shepherds, the appropriate response is to go searching for this savior and to look upon the baby with great awe and wonder.
And like Mary and Joseph the appropriate response is to love this child with all our heart and with all mind and with all our soul.
So this Christmas story is not just a story about how Jesus came into the world…it’s a story which reminds us that God has given us a gift beyond all measure and God picked it especially for you and for me.
But not unlike, our own children who will play with their new toy for a week or so and then discard it, we too can forget and discard this gift. But even if we stop noticing it, even if we cast is aside, this gift never goes away, this gift is always with us, because God, through the birth of Christ is right here, right now. God was here yesterday, God is here today and God will be here tomorrow. Whether we notice or not.
That’s the wondrous thing about this Christmas gift-- no matter how many times we forget the gift of Christ, no matter how far back on the shelf we place it, no matter how long we go between remembering it, this gift is always there, ready for us to notice again, ready for us to unwrap again. And every time we notice, every time we unwrap it we’ll find that it’s still the perfect gift, it’s still exactly what we wanted, exactly what we needed.
That’s the miracle of this Christmas story, that even though our needs vary person to person, year to year the gift of our Savior fits us like a glove. For unto us this day a child has been born and onto that child we may lay our hopes and our dreams, our sorrows and our concerns, our happiness and our despair. For on this day, in the city of David, a King has been born and this king, is a gift which is ours for the unwrapping, and the only requirement for accepting it is that we strive to love each and every person as much as that baby and the God who gave him to us, loves us.
So Merry Christmas and enjoy your gift of Christ, given especially for you. +
I’m not sure of the exact words, but this is a reasonable facsimile of a conversation I had with my niece, probably 18 years ago. It was either Christmas or her birthday and I was giving her a present. Presents were kind of new to her, and she didn’t quite get that this was for her. To keep. She was delighted beyond belief with the gift. But it wasn’t the doll or the book or the toy, it wasn’t even the thrill of receiving a gift from another. No for that little girl it was (and I might say, still is for the 21 year old woman she has become) the love which led me to want to give her something. That’s what gave her such a thrill. Out of that love came her unbridled innocent response of joy: “For me? Especially for me?”
Re-reading today’s Gospel story reminded me of this . For what struck me was that this gift as announced to the shepherds in the field that night, is a gift given just for each of us, out of God’s immeasurable love.
And that, the expression of God’s love for us through the birth of Christ, is what the Christmas story is all about.
We hear it loud and clear in today’s Gospel.
-But the angel said to them, "Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people. No need to question, no need to doubt, there is Good News to be had, and it is especially for you and especially for me, and especially for everybody!
-To you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. This isn’t just a telling of some removed event --no today a savior has been given to us-- especially for you and especially me.
Luke continues: -This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger."
This savior, this babe wrapped in cloth and lying in a feeding crib is not some out of reach messiah available only for the rich and the powerful, the devout and the pious. This child is especially for us. Especially for you and me.
It is really hard to imagine isn’t it? A messiah not only for the Jews, a savior not only for the Gentiles, a Redeemer who redeems everyone, not only the most pure of hearts, a Lord not only for the most devout but also for the most lax among us, the lost, the doubting, the hurt and the angry. This messiah whose birth we praise today is a gift given especially to you and me. Especially for each everyone of us.
Like Alyssa all those years ago, it’s hard to accept this gift… how did we deserve this wondrous gift?
Of course we didn’t, we haven’t. This gift of Jesus is not anything we earn, it’s not anything we deserve. It is given to us out of love.
And like Alyssa, The appropriate response is to squeal with glee.
And like the shepherds, the appropriate response is to go searching for this savior and to look upon the baby with great awe and wonder.
And like Mary and Joseph the appropriate response is to love this child with all our heart and with all mind and with all our soul.
So this Christmas story is not just a story about how Jesus came into the world…it’s a story which reminds us that God has given us a gift beyond all measure and God picked it especially for you and for me.
But not unlike, our own children who will play with their new toy for a week or so and then discard it, we too can forget and discard this gift. But even if we stop noticing it, even if we cast is aside, this gift never goes away, this gift is always with us, because God, through the birth of Christ is right here, right now. God was here yesterday, God is here today and God will be here tomorrow. Whether we notice or not.
That’s the wondrous thing about this Christmas gift-- no matter how many times we forget the gift of Christ, no matter how far back on the shelf we place it, no matter how long we go between remembering it, this gift is always there, ready for us to notice again, ready for us to unwrap again. And every time we notice, every time we unwrap it we’ll find that it’s still the perfect gift, it’s still exactly what we wanted, exactly what we needed.
That’s the miracle of this Christmas story, that even though our needs vary person to person, year to year the gift of our Savior fits us like a glove. For unto us this day a child has been born and onto that child we may lay our hopes and our dreams, our sorrows and our concerns, our happiness and our despair. For on this day, in the city of David, a King has been born and this king, is a gift which is ours for the unwrapping, and the only requirement for accepting it is that we strive to love each and every person as much as that baby and the God who gave him to us, loves us.
So Merry Christmas and enjoy your gift of Christ, given especially for you. +
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
The Magnificent Counter-Cultural Mary, Advent IV Year C
+Did you know that in some circles the Virgin Mary is considered and insurgent and that her song, subversive?
Well, In Guatemala, during one of the autocratic regimes which have ruled there, reciting the Magnificat, Mary’s Song , is against the law. It is deemed so subversive---so intent on undermining the established order—that it is literally against the law to use it in worship.
Now Mary is certainly a lot of things—the Holy Mother, The God Bearer, a stalwart disciple of Jesus, usually depicted as quiet, devout, humble and simple. But an insurgent, subversive?
But the reality, when you think about it, is that Mary was pretty radical--for through Mary, God did one of the most subversive acts of all-time—the incarnation.
In choosing Mary God just did what God always does----surprising us all with an unlikely, radical and counter-cultural move. While everyone expectantly waited for the coming of the Messiah in a great show strength and glory, God chose a simple girl, from a backwater town, under compromising circumstances, to bring the Savior of the world to us. God is not one to announce his activity with trumpets and fanfare. God, you see, appears to us in the mundane, the ordinary, the difficult and the messy. Because the mundane, the ordinary the difficult and the messy is all part of who we are and God cherishes us—all of us, in all conditions, neat and tidy, messy and chaotic. God doesn’t come to us all great fanfare and fuss because God simply wants to be with us in our ordinary daily lives. God wants to dwell where we dwell and that is, more often than not, pretty ordinary, maybe even mundane!
Anyway, if God had announced the coming Messiah through a polished PR man instead of the wild and wooly locust eating animal skin wearing John the Baptist, we would have noticed wouldn’t we? We would have prepared, wouldn’t we? We would have cleaned up, tidied up and been open to receiving the messiah wearing our Sunday best and hiding the messiness of our lives. Through Mary, God shows us, yet again, that it’s the messiness of our lives, as well as the neat and tidy of our lives, in which God dwells. God loves us. Lock stock and barrel, all of us….and to show us that unconditional and all encompassing love God chose Mary as the vessel for His Incarnation. God appears in an unassuming and completely surprising manner==
God just kind of sneaks up on us--hiding, as the saying goes, in plain sight.
And if the incarnation itself, God taking on human form, is not radical enough, God accomplishes this through two women---WOMEN-- talk about hiding in plain sight—who would pay any attention to these women--one too old to be a mother and another too young? Two women who, by all appearances were devout God-loving women living their lives as normally and unassumingly as one can imagine. It is through these two devout, unassuming, God-loving kinswomen that God chooses to subvert the order of all things, through whom God decides to lift high the meek, to encourage and embolden the humble and to deflate the powerful.
It’s one thing to be chosen. It’s another thing to say yes.
Mary and Elizabeth both said yes.
They doubted, they feared, they trembled, they worried and they wondered how and why God decided to tap them, but when given the opportunity to be instruments of God’s subversive and surprising activity among us, they said yes.
Can we say the same thing? Do we say yes when God appears within the ordinariness of daily lives? Do we even see God hiding in plain sight? Do we notice that God is calling out to us, do we realize that God has chosen us?
The opportunities to be an instrument of God in this world are readily available to us. But usually these opportunities require us to shift gears, to repent—to change the direction of our lives….and that can seem too difficult, too overwhelming So instead of grabbing the opportunity to be a God-bearer we turn away, rejecting God, we say no we can’t possibly do it. Not us.
But God, in this surprising and subversive act of bringing the Messiah to us through such unassuming and humble means, is saying, anyone—anyone-- can be the bearer of the Good News. Anyone can help turn the order of things upside down and inside out. God is saying that anyone—all of us, everyone can subvert the order of the world, can scatter the proud and lift high the lowly.
Our task this morning is to hear Mary’s song and to live it out…in all its insurgent subversive and counter-cultural best.
Now I’m not talking about overthrowing the government or telling your boss off…but I am talking about being counter-cultural. By not accepting that in this world of plenty so many live without. That in this world, people will go to bed hungry tonight. That 10% of the people in this country are out of work. That people don’t have access to affordable healthcare. That tonight children will be cold and alone, innocent victims of drug abuse, domestic violence and a myriad of other social ills.
Being counter cultural means we no longer accept that the high remain lofty by stepping on the backs of the humble and the meek. That the rich get richer while the poor get poorer, that the powerful hold onto that power through intimidation. Being counter cultural means accepting that we are all instruments of God and each of us magnifies the Lord by saying yes to being God-bearers and no to the status quo. Being counter-cultural means heeding the message of Mary, by joining with Mary and Elizabeth to rejoice in the gift of their sons.
Our souls proclaim the greatness of the Lord, our spirit rejoices in God our savior for he has looked with favor on Mary, on Elizabeth on you and on me, his lowly servants. +
Well, In Guatemala, during one of the autocratic regimes which have ruled there, reciting the Magnificat, Mary’s Song , is against the law. It is deemed so subversive---so intent on undermining the established order—that it is literally against the law to use it in worship.
Now Mary is certainly a lot of things—the Holy Mother, The God Bearer, a stalwart disciple of Jesus, usually depicted as quiet, devout, humble and simple. But an insurgent, subversive?
But the reality, when you think about it, is that Mary was pretty radical--for through Mary, God did one of the most subversive acts of all-time—the incarnation.
In choosing Mary God just did what God always does----surprising us all with an unlikely, radical and counter-cultural move. While everyone expectantly waited for the coming of the Messiah in a great show strength and glory, God chose a simple girl, from a backwater town, under compromising circumstances, to bring the Savior of the world to us. God is not one to announce his activity with trumpets and fanfare. God, you see, appears to us in the mundane, the ordinary, the difficult and the messy. Because the mundane, the ordinary the difficult and the messy is all part of who we are and God cherishes us—all of us, in all conditions, neat and tidy, messy and chaotic. God doesn’t come to us all great fanfare and fuss because God simply wants to be with us in our ordinary daily lives. God wants to dwell where we dwell and that is, more often than not, pretty ordinary, maybe even mundane!
Anyway, if God had announced the coming Messiah through a polished PR man instead of the wild and wooly locust eating animal skin wearing John the Baptist, we would have noticed wouldn’t we? We would have prepared, wouldn’t we? We would have cleaned up, tidied up and been open to receiving the messiah wearing our Sunday best and hiding the messiness of our lives. Through Mary, God shows us, yet again, that it’s the messiness of our lives, as well as the neat and tidy of our lives, in which God dwells. God loves us. Lock stock and barrel, all of us….and to show us that unconditional and all encompassing love God chose Mary as the vessel for His Incarnation. God appears in an unassuming and completely surprising manner==
God just kind of sneaks up on us--hiding, as the saying goes, in plain sight.
And if the incarnation itself, God taking on human form, is not radical enough, God accomplishes this through two women---WOMEN-- talk about hiding in plain sight—who would pay any attention to these women--one too old to be a mother and another too young? Two women who, by all appearances were devout God-loving women living their lives as normally and unassumingly as one can imagine. It is through these two devout, unassuming, God-loving kinswomen that God chooses to subvert the order of all things, through whom God decides to lift high the meek, to encourage and embolden the humble and to deflate the powerful.
It’s one thing to be chosen. It’s another thing to say yes.
Mary and Elizabeth both said yes.
They doubted, they feared, they trembled, they worried and they wondered how and why God decided to tap them, but when given the opportunity to be instruments of God’s subversive and surprising activity among us, they said yes.
Can we say the same thing? Do we say yes when God appears within the ordinariness of daily lives? Do we even see God hiding in plain sight? Do we notice that God is calling out to us, do we realize that God has chosen us?
The opportunities to be an instrument of God in this world are readily available to us. But usually these opportunities require us to shift gears, to repent—to change the direction of our lives….and that can seem too difficult, too overwhelming So instead of grabbing the opportunity to be a God-bearer we turn away, rejecting God, we say no we can’t possibly do it. Not us.
But God, in this surprising and subversive act of bringing the Messiah to us through such unassuming and humble means, is saying, anyone—anyone-- can be the bearer of the Good News. Anyone can help turn the order of things upside down and inside out. God is saying that anyone—all of us, everyone can subvert the order of the world, can scatter the proud and lift high the lowly.
Our task this morning is to hear Mary’s song and to live it out…in all its insurgent subversive and counter-cultural best.
Now I’m not talking about overthrowing the government or telling your boss off…but I am talking about being counter-cultural. By not accepting that in this world of plenty so many live without. That in this world, people will go to bed hungry tonight. That 10% of the people in this country are out of work. That people don’t have access to affordable healthcare. That tonight children will be cold and alone, innocent victims of drug abuse, domestic violence and a myriad of other social ills.
Being counter cultural means we no longer accept that the high remain lofty by stepping on the backs of the humble and the meek. That the rich get richer while the poor get poorer, that the powerful hold onto that power through intimidation. Being counter cultural means accepting that we are all instruments of God and each of us magnifies the Lord by saying yes to being God-bearers and no to the status quo. Being counter-cultural means heeding the message of Mary, by joining with Mary and Elizabeth to rejoice in the gift of their sons.
Our souls proclaim the greatness of the Lord, our spirit rejoices in God our savior for he has looked with favor on Mary, on Elizabeth on you and on me, his lowly servants. +
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