Advent 4 2015

4 Advent 2015 (Year C)

“Blessed are you who believed what was told to you…”

Recently a colleague friend of mine sent me this short recruitment video from the Dominican Order of Preachers. The video follows quickly three or four men professing their vows, and has interview clips of members of the order explaining what it means to them. But the whole video begins with (I suppose) the abbot preaching at the profession service, and paraphrasing the words we heard today—the words of encouragement that Elizabeth  offers to Mary. “Blessed are you who believed what was told to you.”

Actually the whole reading is a good one. The Gospel writer has already told about the Annunciation—when the Angel Gabriel came to Mary and told her she was being asked to bear the Son of God. In spite of being a virgin, and being as-yet-unmarried, the young woman said “yes” to God’s invitation, and she became pregnant.

Of course, in those days, it would have been a very dangerous thing to be pregnant and unwed. So, like any good, upstanding family from the 1950s, Mary was sent to stay with a distant relative to keep her out of trouble. However, for whatever kind of fear or danger Mary may have been facing, we see in our Gospel reading today that Mary is greeted with such care and joy. Luke’s Gospel tells us that as soon as she enters the house of Zechariah and Elizabeth, Elizabeth’s own unborn child leapt in her womb. And after greeting Mary as an honored person, Elizabeth ends with these words of encouragement: “Blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.”

The reason I think this is such a profound statement—not just in the context of the reading—but likewise with regard to the video from the Dominicans is because I think all of us tend to forget that there is something ‘blessed’ about holding on to belief about what God has told us.

The point is that in our lives, especially if we’re serious about practicing our faith, there are places in which God speaks to us, even calls us certain places and actions. The difficult thing about this, of course, is trying to discern whether or not what we’ve heard is really from God to begin with—but likewise holding on to the trust that whatever has been told to us is worthy of believing.

Personally, I remember looking for work after college, and realizing that I might be called to the priesthood. Of course, we were already poor and in debt, and really the idea of being scrutinized and processed, and then still 3 years of graduate school did not sound terribly appealing. And while there were times throughout the whole process when I thought I wanted to quit, or even thought I should have my head examined for ever starting the whole adventure—I did in fact make it through, and still believe I followed the correct path.

Now, I suppose it’s easier to imagine God speaking promises, or calling people to religious vocations than it is to believe that God might be speaking things into our lives all the time. But, I’ve heard a number of people who’ve told me that they believe God is calling them to leave a job, or take another. Some have talked about hear God’s leading with regard to family situations, or even financial issues. The point is, if we’re listening (especially in some of the more seemingly desperate situations in life), God speaks to us, and even leads us if we’re willing to hear.

But then there are those places where we hear from God, and then we find ourselves having to wait—sometimes years—before we ever see the fulfilment of what has been told to us. In these situations, I think it’s most important to hold on as best we can to what we believe we’ve  understood God to be saying, continue to pray for clarity—even ask others for help in discerning and understanding it—and then, it’s been my experience that even those things will come to pass. And perhaps it’s not simply a matter of timing, but it may also be that the exercise of faithful prayer and discernment with other people may be what is most needed for us. All the same, blessed are you who believed what was told to you.

Anyway, as this Advent season is winding down, and our sights are set on Christmas—maybe we’re a little less cognizant of this being a time of preparation, and anticipation for the return of Jesus. And yet, there is still something reflective about this tie of year that does make us take stock of some things—perhaps its New Years resolutions, or promising to be nice to your cousins at Christmas dinner—whatever. But, what about taking time to consider, or even ask God what you might be called to…

I mean, as people of God, and as the Body of Christ, we already have a certain set of directives—certainly for us the Baptismal Covenant, but also the call to love God ad love our neighbor as ourselves. But, as individuals, redeemed by God and called Christ’s own—what talents may God be calling forth for us to use to live more fully into our call to Christian life? What gifts might God be calling us to share with others that would share the life and love of Christ? How might God be calling us to take our share in Kingdom work?

My hope for all of us in this season, and the New Year, that we’ll ponder these things in our hearts—just as Mary did when the angel gave her his message. I hope we’ll take these questions seriously, and that we’ll do what we can to understand the things God may be telling us. And may we continue to be encouraged by the words of Elizabeth: “Blessed are you who believed what was told to you.”

Advent 3 2015

3 Advent 2015 (Year C)

Today, the Third Sunday of Advent, is the Sunday traditionally known as “Rose Sunday” or “Gaudete Sunday.” You see, as it turns out, Advent is one of the times in the Church year that is observed as a time of penitence. So, while blue is an accepted liturgical color for Advent, purple is likewise used just as we do in Lent.

Anyway, during both the season of Lent and Advent, there is an optional Sunday that may be observed as a kind of “refreshment” from the rigors of fasting, and hair shirts (so, you are welcome to step out at any time in the service to take off your hair shirts—but just for today).

Actually, the truth is that Advent was originally 40 days of fasting in preparation for Christmas, and began after the Feast of St. Martin (November 11^th), and Advent was even referred to as “St. Martin’s Lent.” This was the tradition as early as the 5^th Century.

Eventually, around the 9^th Century, Advent was shortened to 4 weeks, but this idea of a Sunday for refreshment from penitence was still a carry-over. So, even though Advent isn’t really maintained as a season of penitence (although the Orthodox, and some Roman Churches still do), we still have this Sunday—Rose Sunday in the 3^rd week of Advent.

  

Well, I suppose given the hectic pace that most of us are expected to keep during this season, maybe a day of refreshment is not such a bad idea… Our Old Testament reading reflects the restoration of all things with the coming of the Messiah, and all of Creation’s hopes are realized. That’s certainly a nice image. And, then , we have this lovely quote from the Letter to the Philippians about remaining joyful, thankful, and at peace. So far things are looking really good and refreshing.

However, things sort of change tone when we get to the Gospel reading—here things get a little less comforting. This, of course where we hear the familiar words of John the Baptist crying out, “You Brood of Vipers! Who warned you to flee the wrath to come?” (Personally, I would be open to renaming Gaudete Sunday “Brood of Vipers Sunday.” We could get really cool banners made.) I also still think this is the best sermon ever.

Anyway, John calls out to the people to bear fruits worthy of repentance. He warns them not to be too comfortable because of their ethnic heritage, simply being children of Abraham is not enough. After all, God can raise up children of Abraham from the very stones. “No,” John persists, “this is the time to take seriously the demands that come with being people of God.” And “[e]ven now the ax is laying at the root of the trees,” and any that do not bear fruit will be cut down and thrown into the fire. (Really great stuff this. I love it.)

  

Well, in spite of hearing this, and even being called a brood of vipers, the people find their way out to the riverside all the same. They’re drawn to John’s message. But, as they begin to do some soul searching, these people begin to freak out—what can they do? I mean axes are laying at roots, being children of Abraham doesn’t amount to much, and now John is saying a fruitless life is one that is to be cut down and thrown onto the garbage heap. This no longer feels very refreshing.

However, John the Baptist (in spite of his title, perhaps) explains that the way of salvation is actually quite easy… He explains, if you have more than one coat, or more than enough food—share it with those who have none of those things. Tax collectors, he says, shouldn’t take more money than is required—and soldiers shouldn’t extort money from people, and be satisfied with their wages.

Now seeing as how our culture isn’t really set up to enable tax collectors and soldiers to do the kinds of things John describes—I suppose it makes things that much simpler. I know I have more than one coat, and I know that I have more than enough food. Perhaps I can be saved?! All I need to do is share.

  

It would even seem that if any of you have an extra coat and more than enough food, and any of you also gave to those who don’t have those things—any of you can be saved, too?! Honestly, it isn’t as bad as it seems, actually. In fact, the choice is pretty easy, we can be a brood of vipers who are saved by helping those who cannot help themselves—or we can end up cut down like fruitless trees and thrown into the fire… (It is still a Baptist sermon—I just didn’t want you to forget.)

Kidding aside, however, the thing is, it may very well be that this message that John preaches is exactly the kind of refreshment we need. In a way it’s like instead of the promise of chocolate, fuzzy slippers, a bottle of wine and a marathon of The Vanilla Ice Project to try and recover from the stress and woes of life; we’re given a real curative. John’s message is not one of hopelessness, but it is a cold cup of coffee—it’s a wake-up call to put away excuses; put away entitlement; and put away the illusions of insulated life. This sermon is one in which John, as a prophet, calls all of us back to our senses, and our purpose as people of God. And the message is simple: we’re meant to change the world with the salvation that Jesus Christ has given us, and if we’re not even willing to work for that change in even the simplest, most obvious ways, then our salvation is worthless.

We mourn the troubles and darkness of the world. Personally, I’m tired sick of political candidates using fear and ignorance to tempt us to close-off, and shut the world out for some illusion of safety. We’re tempted to believe that there isn’t enough for everyone, so we need to snatch and hoard all that we can to take care of our own. We’re given to believe that the world, with all of its dysfunction and trouble isn’t worth our small attempts at helping.

 But John is here in this message to tell us that we are very much part of the solution to all of that trouble and all of that darkness. Gandhi said, “Be the change you wish to see in the world.” Jesus says, “You are the Light of the world.” Our contribution then is a simple one, be forgiven, then help and care for those who can’t help and care for themselves.

Perhaps Advent isn’t so much a season of penitence for us anymore, and the idea of a Sunday for refreshment may seem a little strange; Advent remains a time of anticipation, and the theme of Rose Sunday, or Gaudete Sunday is joy.

However, it could be that the joy and refreshment comes to us in the form of John the Baptist telling us the truth—we need forgiveness, we need to not be so self-focused. And while it may not mean unquenchable fire for those who refuse to change their hearts, I would say that to ignore our responsibility to share, and love one another, and care for one another is serious business. I think it’s especially troubling when the answer to all of it is so simple.

Maybe you won’t see the words “You Brood of Vipers!” on Christmas cards any time soon, but I would offer the possibility that John the Baptist’s words are more than refreshing. His is a truth that wakens us up to reality, the world is in trouble—but the solution, as he presents it, is more than simple: the business of our salvation is the business of caring for others.

Advent 2 2015

2 Advent 2015 (Year C)

One of the aspects of the Advent season, along with preparation, is this idea of enduring hope, and even the trust that all things will be made well in God’s time. So, like in our reading from Baruch, we’re given glimpses of promises—promises that God will restore all things, that justice and peace will abound, and that even those who are cast down will be lifted up to places of honor. And I think it’s this sort of thing—this hope—that we remember, and even try to rehearse in this season. So, whether it’s charitable giving, or volunteering our time, people respond to the ideals of compassion, and generosity. Likewise, we know that most television shows will have a dedicated episode where the virtues of hope, charity and faith play out in some manner. And no matter how cheesy it may be, we sort of enjoy it, because deep down, we love stories about these things.

At the same time, I suppose to some people believing such things, trusting such things, and even hoping for such things seems terribly naïve. After all, evidence of how difficult the real world is plays on a constant loop in the background of our lives.

We continue to ignore the irreparable damage we’re doing to our world, which continues to have broader consequences—not only animal and plant species, but even those who are most poor in the world.

We watch, seemingly powerless as individuals amass unimaginable wealth, all the while families of employees, or those the companies have laid-off, struggle financially.

We know there are children neglected and abused, and we know there are people who, for whatever reason, cannot have children, but want them desperately. And all of this just within our own country, without even considering matters concerning race, gender, or sexual orientation.

We inhabit a terribly convoluted world, one with untold dangers and complexities that can shake the faith of anyone. In fact, if our faith doesn’t get shaken once in a while, we’re perhaps not paying enough attention. As Bob Dylan says, “It’s not dark yet, but it’s gettin’ there.”

Maybe it’s this feeling of imminent darkness that seems to obscure the goodness and generosity of God. Maybe this is even the reason that faith in general seems so minute and insignificant when compared to all the factors in the world that test our mettle. Maybe this is why it’s difficult to let our little lights shine, as the song says—because, after all, what difference would it make in so much dark?

But, then again, it may well be that the reason we feel like our little lights are not all that bright is because it’s just not dark enough. See, this is sort the irony of the Advent season. For us in the Northern Hemisphere, we’re moving into the darkest part of the year. The weather is cold, nights are longer, days are shorter. And so, we use candles not only to give extra light, but also to mark time—one candle for each week of Advent, and if they were wax, we’d see them each getting smaller as the season went on. Technically, I suppose they could even last through to the Spring.

Anyway, before Christianity, there were a number of ways in which people in different cultures marked this time. Candles were used, but other things were included as a sign of hope and promise that life wouldn’t stay this way—cold and dark… So many people did things like hang sprigs of evergreen in their houses—evergreens, obviously being plants that remain green year round. Again, this was not only a reminder that winter would end, but also that there is always hope of rebirth, and eternal life.

Within the Christian faith, symbols of hope and eternal life are of course signs that are important and familiar to us. This is why we’ve adopted things like decorating with evergreens in Advent and Christmas. And in the same way that these things are used to remind us and help us focus on hope and new life—the candles likewise remind us that there is still light in this dark season. In fact, as the season gets darker, we light more candles, and the light continues to get brighter. But, the interesting thing is, if the season weren’t dark enough, we might very well miss how bright the light of these candles really are…

If you picked up one of the Living Compass Advent books, you might have read one of the recent meditations written by Scott Stoner. He talks about one night when the power went out in his house, and suddenly he realized that he was completely disoriented. He was in his own kitchen, in his own house, but he couldn’t even see his own hand it was so dark. Maybe you’ve experienced this feeling too—I know have.

Anyway, he eventually finds a candle and is again able to find his way around. What he was writing about was a bit different than my point, but what I was struck by, was thinking about how almost painful it is to go from being in pitch darkness, and then to suddenly have the light of a candle flame. Even such a small light as a candle flame can be almost blinding when the darkness is at its thickest…

And really, this is the main theme for Advent—sure there is preparation, but what we prepare for is that which is largely unseen. It is the assurance of hope that all things will be made new. But in the meantime, our work is this business of light—to share the light of hope, and in our way to remain little lights in a world that appears to be getting dark around us.

In fact, John’s Gospel says this is what Jesus was like when he was coming into the world—a Light—one which was small enough that it could easily have been missed, and was missed. And yet, in his brief ministry, the light that Jesus gave to his disciples was kindled by generations of others who in turn shared their light. It’s no mystery why we give newly baptized people a candle, and it’s no surprise that we tell them to receive the Light of Christ. We even call the largest candle in our Advent Wreath the Christ Candle—and at the Easter Vigil, we’ll chant the words “The Light of Christ” as we process the Pascal Candle into the church.

  

The point is, if we begin to take the business of faith seriously—make it a priority—it can begin to dispel the darkness in our lives. What’s more, if we get this Light into our heads and into our hearts; if we allow it to transform us, we find that we, ourselves become a light of hope. Soon our conversations begin to speak as much hope as the words of the prophets. Soon, our actions and way of life become a confession of faith; and soon, our lives become illuminated by love.

Just as a small candle flame can be used to ignite other candles; it is our job as people of faith—Advent People and People of God—to encourage and share this light of Jesus Christ. Even the smallest light can be blindingly bright, and even a tiny flame can dispel the dark. It can even be used to ignite still more flames. So, as the season darkens, and apparently so does our world, let your light so shine that people may see our good works and give glory to God. Simply put, be the light you are (no matter how small you think that light may be), so that the light of Christ can illuminate even the darkest places of the world.

Advent 1 2015

1 Advent 2015

At the beginning of this month, as some of you may recall, Christianity in America came under yet another grievous attack. Coffee juggernaut and cultural beverage icon Starbuck’s fired the first shot of this year’s War on Christmas by introducing plain red cups for the season.

Advocates and watchdogs for the Christian faith, thankfully, spoke out against this outrage pointing out that such cups not only watered down the message of faith inherent in Christmas, but simply ignored it. 

Since the events of early November, a number of Evangelicals (seeking no attention for themselves, I’m sure) have made statements in media and written articles about this attack. Their fear, and all of our fears could very well be realized in our own day, that without the winsome designs of snowpeople, frolicking reindeer, and Santa Claus—the faith that is central to this season may continue to see its decline. How can we hope to share the stories of our faith with others, or even our children if the images so essential to this season and our faith are missing from Starbucks’ cups?  And given the lack of response from the general public, it would seem that the Christian faith may simply have to suffer this persecution in silence.

Of course, there would be some people who might consider this sort of thing with Starbucks’ to be signs of the “End Times.”  Nevermind that throughout the centuries Christendom has experienced any number of real dangers—persecution by Rome, regular hordes of invading barbarians, the Spanish Inquisition (which no one ever expects…).

But make no mistake, so long as there are companies who offer seasonal décor for their products—there will doubtless be some outcry from a particular segment of Christendom claiming an affront. Usually it’s the same segment in these cases.

Kidding aside, however, what I do think this incident with Starbucks’—or even a couple of years ago when everybody was getting yelled at for saying “Happy Holidays” instead of “Merry Christmas”—what I think all of this does highlight is how (maybe not difficult), but how weird it is to live out one’s faith intentionally. What I mean by this is that whether it’s perceived affront to our faith, or even the industry of religious products that are supposed to make our faith more fulsome and focused—the way of being faithful is not self-evident, and it takes work, especially for those of us who want to live out this faith in a real way.

I’ve just started to re-read a book called Benedict’s Dhamra: Buddhists Reflect on the Rule of St. Benedict. As many of you know The Rule of St. Benedict is a sixth century monastic rule of life. And though there have been reforms within the Benedictine tradition, The Rule itself remains a constant in a number of monastic communities.

Anyway, in this book, four different Buddhist practitioners from different Buddhist traditions have written essay reflections of different parts of Benedict’s Rule. Interestingly enough, they all talk about how familiar The Rule sounds to them, even from their religious context. This familiarity they say is the difficulty of balancing religious life and practice with the demands of daily life and work.

As the books states “Monastic life is structured to implement renunciation (2).” One writer, Joseph Goldstein, points out that “the Buddha said, ‘The monastic’s way is easy.’ The layperson’s way is hard. In American culture, renunciation isn’t reinforced at all. It’s not considered a virtue (2).”    

In other words, monastic lifestyle is structured to carve out space and time to focus on the life of faith. It is shaped by certain expectations and commitments which are shared and embodied by other monks—and together this community works toward spiritual growth as they conform their lives to the Rule of life.

What’s interesting is that the Latin and Greek roots of the “Rule” (in the case of The Rule of St. Benedict) translates as “trellis.” So, ideally rather than the rule of life being applied to one’s life, instead we allow our lives to grow upon a rule of life (a “trellis”) so that it can be supported for healthy growth.

But we might wonder, for those of us who are not monks, how this either fits our experience and expression of faith—or even how something like this might be possible for people who live outside of a monastic context. After all, as one of the other writers (Judith Simmer-Brown) points out “The claustrophobia of domestic life and a job and parenthood and being married and…the demands of every aspect of…life—are really a kind of monastic discipline (2-3).”

  

Simply put, our daily lives have their rhythm and shape. Whether we live or work with other people, family members, spouses, children—or even in a close-knit neighborhood, school or even work—all of us are part of some kind of community. And whether we’re aware of it or not, we’re shaped by the people within these circles of life. So, for us, as people of faith, we find ourselves needing a pretty strong sense of discipline if we’re interested in a vital, and growing life of faith. What’s more we have to do it without any sort of “rule of life” to guide or shape us.

But then again, while we may not have a Rule, per se—we do have a kind of “trellis.” We do have a kind of structure in our lives that allow us to grow our spiritual lives, if we’re willing to apply our lives to it. We have a few things, in fact…

Probably the most concise guide we have for faith is the Baptismal Covenant. Here we have outlined the promises made in baptism which both affirm the claims of our Christian faith, but also call out the responsibilities that come with being a Christian. So, if we’re ever looking for what it is that we’re called to do or be as Christians—the Baptismal Covenant is a great reminder.

Secondly, I think we cannot forget how important a faith community is in shaping and forming  our own individual faith. Ideally our faith community is a place where we’re reminded of our identity as followers of Jesus—but we’re also reminded of those things in the world which need our attention and prayer.

We’re also called to action in church, whether it is to respond to matters throughout the world, or even respond to situations represented by the people of the congregation, we call one another to be accountable to the demands of a vital and living faith.

Finally, our tradition offers a number of other supports for us to grow our spiritual lives. We have a Prayer Book which contains not only all of the forms for our worship together—but it also has Prayer Offices which can be used up to four times a day, and include scripture readings for each day. We have liturgical worship which gives shape to the way we come together to worship God—and at the same time highlights certain aspects of our faith through ceremonials like baptism and Eucharist. We even measure our calendar with liturgical seasons, each one resonating with the natural cycles of seasons and life—but also focusing on particular aspects of our relationship to God through Jesus Christ.

The point is, I think, that while the work of cultivating and growing our spiritual lives may be difficult, even seemingly impossible for those of us who live in the world—we ought to be encouraged that we’re not left without a guide, or even a rule of life. In fact, as Episcopalians, we have a wealth of resources available to us to help us to grow in our faith. After all, Jesus warns against us being “distracted by the worries of this life,” something that is done best when we are focused, rooted, and centered in our faith.

  

What’s more, faith in America is already a pretty convoluted subject. There are always complexities that arise from different religions, ethnicities, and even varieties within ethnic and religious groups living within one country. And rather than finding combined strength from the core values of these various faith traditions—instead we find nominalism (where people don’t really care about their faith), or radicalism (where faith is twisted into something wicked and evil).

What this confirms for me is that there is no room for religion or faith that is empty. We simply cannot exist—in fact we’re just taking up room—if people of faith are not committed to grow and share the good that comes from their faith. And as people who bear the message of the transformative power of God’s love and mercy, we have no excuse for simply playing at our faith…otherwise, things like “Seasons Greetings,” or coffee cups without snowmen become matters of religious persecution, meanwhile a world starving for the transformational love of God is left neglected on our watch. This is unacceptable, and is exactly what an unbelieving world finds so unbelievable.

Today we begin the season of Advent. This is a time of preparation, and anticipating the return of Jesus. For the Church, this marks the beginning of a new liturgical cycle—a new year. May this time of preparation be for us a time of cultivating our faith, and doing our part to change the world.  

4 Advent 2014

4 Advent 2014

Today, based on the number of shopping days left for Christmas, is the 4^th Sunday of Advent. And as some of you may also know, it’s the 3^rd Sunday of Advent which is traditionally known as “Rose Sunday.”

Traditionally, Rose Sunday (or Gaudete Sunday) was a day of refreshing during the penitential season of Advent. Apparently, there is also one such Sunday in the Season of Lent—but we’ll worry about that then.

Anyway, Rose Sunday, in Advent became known also as “Mary Sunday,” and is likely because it was also the day that the lectionary reading recounted either Mary going to stay with her relative Elizabeth (the mother of John the Baptist); or, like today, the story of the Annunciation.

Well, as you may remember, last Sunday’s Gospel reading was not about Mary, the Annunciation, or any of those things—it was about John the Baptist. And lest we become more confused by this, I decided to save the rose color for today…

Right! So, Rose Sunday—Mary Sunday… Honestly, many people who have grown up with a Protestant background probably are not really sure what to do with Mary… Certainly, she has an important role in the birth of Jesus, and the Nativity story (which is convenient). So, like Santa Claus, Mary shows up for many of us only around Christmas time.

Only, I would imagine there are many Protestants who are more comfortable with Santa Claus than they are with Mary…

And this is probably due to any number of things. That rugged Protestant sensibility that demands evidence of Mary’s importance in Scripture. As inheritors of Martin Luther’s Sola Scriptura (or Scripture alone), anything which might fall outside of biblical narrative (even Church tradition) is cast in suspicion.

However, for some of you who have come from a Roman Catholic tradition, you may fell you’ve had a bit too much of Mary. After all, in some places in the Roman Catholic world, Mary is spoken of, and venerated in ways that sometimes seem to obscure devotion to God. In fact, in some circles Mary is spoken of as a co redemptrix(which refers to Mary’s role in the redemption of humanity, but as you can imagine could get pretty murky, theologically speaking).

Anyway, there are obviously some very different feelings about Mary in the Christian faith, and with that some very strong feelings which often cause division. But, as one of my colleagues from Ohio said in one of his sermons, we have to be able to talk about Mary without the threat of breaking into Protestant hives… Because, after all, there really is a lot about Mary which is important to us, and our lives of faith.

But, then, how do we strip away years of distrust; or even centuries of indoctrination to try to get at some meaning from the life of this woman who understood Jesus in ways we can’t possibly comprehend? How do we, at the very least, begin to unravel so much mythology about Mary, so that we can begin to understand why she did take on such a prominent role, even in the earliest time of the Church?

Well, to start, I think we need to begin with Scripture to begin to get a picture of who Mary is in this context.

Now, as you well know, the Bible doesn’t say a whole lot about Mary. Much of what we have about her comes from the birth narrative in Luke’s Gospel, followed by small vignettes of her interactions with Jesus. But even in these small glimpses, we can learn a lot.

We know she was betrothed to Joseph (which is even more binding than our modern understanding of engagement). We’re also told that she is devout in her faith, and by context, we can assume she was relatively young. So, if we can put aside the two-dimensional, greeting card version of the Annunciation; we might be a bit more surprised at Mary’s response to the angel’s request to bear the Son of God…

From other accounts in the Gospels, Mary seems sort of unclear about the meaning and identity of Jesus. She seems a bit surprised that he would wander into the Temple away from the family. She seems to miss the point when Jesus refuses to leave his disciples and return home with her and his brothers… So, we may wonder where so many claims about her devotion come from.

Well, considering that no one really knew what to do with Jesus in the Gospel narratives—I suppose we should cut Mary a little slack. What’s more, I think that, whether she realized the full import of who Jesus was to be, or not—it’s my sense that she did what any mother would do, and tried to keep her son out of trouble.

Besides, there are a number of other things that speak very clearly to Mary’s insight. Obviously she knew Jesus well enough to know he could do something about the wine running out at the wedding feast in Cana. (In fact, she doesn’t even give him an option to refuse to do anything…she just tells the servants to do whatever he tells them). More than this, Mary is one of the few people willing to follow Jesus all throughout his Passion. She follows Jesus along the way as he carries his cross; later she stands with a few other women who were close friends with Jesus—as well as John—at the foot of the cross watches her son die. She even receives his body after Joseph of Arimathea has paid to have it taken down from the cross…

In some accounts, she is with the other women who go to the tomb to prepare the body of Jesus, only to find that he has burst forth in resurrection glory… And, finally, Mary is among those who is in the Upperroom on the Day of Pentecost (after Jesus has Ascended back to the Father). There, along with the closest of Jesus’ disciples, Mary received the Holy Spirit.

  

Tradition tells us then, that after the events at the cross—where Jesus commends Mary to the care of John—that she and John retired to a quiet place in Ephesus. And even if that’s true, we could imagine that she was the source for any number of stories of Jesus, as well as an important figure in the Early Church.

As to Mary’s preeminence in subsequent centuries—this came mostly from the Early Church councils which did their best to figure out what Jesus meant  to our understanding of God… And, if Jesus is the Son of God…well, naturally we can reason that Mary would have some pretty important role, as well. And once the councils had (for the most part) settled into the idea that Jesus is both fully human and fully divine; in 431, the Council of Ephesus affirmed Mary as the Mother of God—a title which still gets some people a little squirrelly.

Now, admittedly, some Marian devotion has gotten out-of-hand. During the Late Middle Ages, during times of plague, famine and war; many people throughout Europe began to believe that the Church was being punished. So, because Jesus was angry and wreaking havoc throughout the known world—many of the faithful began to turn to Mary as a Mediator to her Son. Likewise, Mary took on any number of qualities and patronages which previously had belonged to pagan goddesses, and before anyone knew it, Mary had become something of a cult unto herself…which isn’t good. But this is to say, that if we through her out with all of the conjecture and legend that has grown up around her, we lose a lot.

After all, in Mary, we see what a pure devotion to God can mean—this doesn’t mean that God will send an angel to tell us we’re going to get pregnant our of wedlock—but it does show what God can do in the world when we’re willing to say “yes.” And in Mary’s case, she was willing to say “yes” to God when humanity often responds with “no.”

Likewise, Mary is an example of stalwart faith. Even after the disciples have abandoned Jesus, Mary risks a lot to follow him on the road to Calvary—and it’s likely that in this more related to her motherhood than her faith in Jesus. But, even in this, we learn how to love very well.

Finally, looking back, we can see that Mary was present at most all of the important turning points in the life and ministry of Jesus. She seems to affirm his divinity, but always—always is the reminder of his humanity—the fact that while he is the Son of God, he still very much belongs to us…

And while I don’t know whether or not anything that I’ve said here has changed your thoughts about Mary; I will say that when we try to figure out how we’re supposed to live as examples of Jesus—I think that either we can become discouraged at how impossible a task it feels. But, then, if we were to perhaps try to understand our lives to be lived a bit more like Mary’s…well, we might still feel that it seems a pretty high calling—but, if nothing else, we might learn that living a faithful life to God begin most simply by saying “Yes.”     

4 Advent 2013

4 Advent 2013

Over these past few years, my Dad has been in the process of putting together our family tree. If any of you have gone through this process for your own family, you know that there exists in families the history and identity that everyone shares in stories. And then there is the ‘real history’ that is based in historical record and census information.

In my family’s case, where we had always assumed that we were German because of our last name, we found out instead that we’re, in fact, very, very English—incurably so. And in my dad’s case, he gets it from both parents—with the addition of a Scotsman who we assume took his wife’s name because he was a horse thief. But, you know, that’s how families work. They’re never perfect, and sometimes society tries to define us by our heritage for good or ill.

In our Gospel reading today, we read just a snippet about the family heritage of Jesus—however, what is omitted from the reading is the longer genealogy that comes before.

And while I’m sure that it would tickle all of you to no end to hear me read the whole thing—instead, I’d like to take a look at just a few highlights. Specifically, I’d like to look at the really juicy parts of Jesus’ lineage, because what I think we find there is something of far more importance than just a hereditary connection to King David.

Now, I think that it is important, first of all, to understand that Matthew’s Gospel was written for a specifically Jewish audience. So, the Gospel writer is particularly interested in making connections to Jesus’ life and ministry that reflect a deeply Jewish sensibility.

Some examples of this are certain stories about Jesus that reflect the history and heritage of the Jewish people…things like Jesus spending 40 days in the desert, which is supposed to remind us of the 40 years the Israelites spent wandering—and a number of other things besides.

The point of this being that the Gospel of Matthew is designed to communicate the connections that Jesus has as Messiah to the Jewish people.

As a way of cementing this connection, then, Matthew provides us with a genealogy, which includes some important figures, like King David, and goes all the way back to Abraham. This, of course is significant, since Abraham is the progenitor of Israel, and—more importantly, it is through Abraham that God promises to bless all people.

However, what I think is particularly interesting is that with all of the dignified names on the list, there are also some which are not so dignified. For example, even though Jesus is said to be a descendant of King David, we find that he is descended by way of Bathsheba (who the Gospel Writer calls the wife of Uriah—not David).

This is not only awkward, but, if you remember, David happened to have an affair with Bathsheba while her husband Uriah was away at war (where we’re told David should have been also). And when David finds out that Bathsheba is pregnant, subsequently has Uriah put on the front lines so that he will be killed.

If this wasn’t enough, Matthew’s genealogy includes Tamar, a woman who in the Book of Genesis was married to Judah’s oldest son, who we’re told was so bad that God killed him. Tamar being left childless, then, was given to Judah’s other sons in proper order so that she could have a son and be able to keep her husband’s inheritance. And after not ever conceiving any children, Judah finally takes her as his wife (even though he thinks she’s cursed), and she finally has a son…

Well, continuing in this vein of Jesus’ dodgy family history is Ruth and Boaz. Some of you may remember Ruth (she has her own book). Ruth was the Gentile daughter-in-law to Naomi, whose husbands and sons all died tragically. And in the Book of Ruth, we read about how Ruth stays with Naomi so that they could find a way to survive in a culture that wasn’t really friendly to either of them. However, the story turns around when Ruth is able to…well, seduce Boaz who was what was known as a kinsmen redeemer. This was a male in the family who was able to marry the widows of relatives to allow them to hold on to their status in society.

  

And rather than being some sweeping romance with a courageous young woman and a valiant man who saves her. In reality it’s more like the story of a courageous woman who makes her way in a messed-up, male dominated society. And no matter how you characterize it, none of it really fits the nuclear family model. Of course, this is to say nothing really of the many male ancestors of Jesus…

By the time we finally get to the birth of Jesus in Matthew’s Gospel, we’re told that Mary had conceived—however, we’re also told that Joseph, the man that Mary was betrothed to had not yet received the memo that Mary was pregnant, and we can imagine his surprise when he realized that he had nothing to do with it.

Luckily for Joseph, there was an angelic message that told him that things were going to be alright—which makes things square for God, but for Joseph and Mary this still looks really bad. Like really bad. In fact, there’s no way in the world that they should ever be pictured on any “Focus on the Family” publications. Jerry Falwell would ban them and the Roman Church would excommunicate them—and that might simply be because they’re Jewish…

But the point is, things don’t look good for Jesus, and the Gospel of Matthew doesn’t do a whole lot to help out his image. All the warts are there, and only a few of the un-savories are left out of the genealogy.

  

All the same, part of me wonders if some early Jewish readers saw this and thought, “what a terrible Messiah…this guy has some real family issues.” And, at first blush, they would be right. There is very little about this family tree that says much positive about where Jesus is coming from. That’s to say nothing about the claim that he was conceived of the Holy Spirit to a virgin who was not yet married…

However, I have to say, that I would have an even harder time believing in a Messiah that didn’t have some kind of sordid past. I mean, any of us could be judged by the family we’ve come from, the pasts we’ve lived in—even the company we keep. With Jesus, not only were his earthly parents not married and his mother claiming to have been a virgin at his birth—but he spent all his time with really dodgy people. He even said the Kingdom of God belonged to them.

But at least he’s believable. Y’know, if someone told me that God was going to become Incarnate and live with us in a world that seems to be completely unable to get it’s stuff together; a world where people are starving, and others have more money and resources than they’ll ever need in 3 lifetimes; a world where nations go to war over things like oil, but will avoid intervening in places where genocide is taking place. If someone told me that God was going to become Incarnate to live in this world, and that this same God would choose to live as a king. Well, I can say that I would be much happier as a Buddhist.

On the other hand, if you told me that the God who loved us wanted to join us in frail humanity, and to show us a life lived in faith, hope and love. You would have my attention.

And then, if you told me that this Incarnate God loved us enough to not only live with us, but even come among us through some really iffy circumstances. You would have piqued my interest.

More importantly, if this Incarnate God was all of these things, including having a genealogy that was less than stellar; and you told me that this was so any of us could find our place in his family. Well, then, I would do my best to tell everyone else about this Incarnate God. What’s more, everything about his family history that others might find difficult to accept, I think I would have to celebrate. Because even though I do believe that Jesus’ birth was the result of Virgin Birth by the Holy Spirit and Mary; it means everything to me that nothing about his family of origin was perfect.

This should be good news to all of us, that no matter where we’ve come from, or what our family of origin looks like; we are invited to be part of the family of God. And it’s for this reason that the Gospel is Good News, and not a collection of prohibitions about why all of us are too terrible to ever know God. Instead, the Gospel, just like the birth of Jesus are our invitation to not only know of God, but to be known and loved by God.

What’s more, not only do we find in Jesus a Savior who comes among us in great humility, and hangs around with sinners and outcasts—but he’s also one who has inherited the same kind of weird family history that all of us have, and understands all of its complexity—our complexity. Yet still, he invites us to be part of the family of God no matter what.

3 Advent 2013

3 Advent 2013

The 3^rd Sunday of Advent is traditionally called “Rose Sunday,” and it’s the Sunday in Advent when we honor Mary, the Mother of Jesus.

For many people, Mary has come to be known as an almost strictly Roman Catholic personage. In fact, people often ask if we as Episcopalians ‘have Mary,’ as if she were a kind of affectation to Christian tradition. Likewise, there is regular surprise from people when they realize that Mary is even mentioned in our liturgies. And, probably, much of this sort of reaction is because of our Protestant heritage. Apparently we’re not expected to have any kind of veneration for Mary—and that, I think, is just unfortunate.

Now, obviously, I will admit that in some cases, Marian devotion has taken on an almost cultish expression. Historically, this can be linked to some attempts made by missionaries who were bringing the Gospel to cultures where feminine deities were worshipped. Unfortunately, in the attempts to try to create some cultural relevance, the message that the missionaries were trying to communicate became misconstrued. As a result, then, we see various aspects of Mary, which take on some markedly pagan attributes.

Likewise, we learn from Church History that in the Dark Ages, it was believed the reason everything in Europe was falling apart was because God was judging the world. Inevitably, the Church began to teach that because of the holy, separateness of God, and Jesus, that our only Mediator and Advocate to Jesus was his Mother, Mary.

Well, with all of these things muddying the already dusky waters of faith and devotion for the common person—it’s no wonder that the Protestant Reformation happened. And even though the original reformers (Martin Luther included) were not ready to throw Mary out completely—what we eventually see is the importance of Mary becoming progressively diminished in Protestant circles. And, for those of you who may be carrying some negative baggage from the Roman Church, you can probably understand why…

However, no matter how hard people may try to ignore Mary, she obviously will not be easily forgotten. Whether it is because of some of the sentimental imagery that her motherhood evokes, or her importance to the conversations regarding the roles of women in the Church; Mary is tough to dismiss.

In Luke’s Gospel, where we get most of our information about the birth narrative, Mary is a young, faithful woman who is betrothed to a respectable man. We assume, contextually that she doesn’t come from a wealthy family, but tradition tells us she comes from a religious family. At the Annunciation, we see that she is a young woman who has great trust in God’s Providence—even when she hides away at her cousin Elizabeth’s house, she continues to maintain her faith in what would probably be a very difficult situation. And, of course, from the Nativity story, we gather this image of Mary, the mother meek and mild.

However, there is another side to Mary as well—a side that is less meek and mild, and more like what we’d expect from a strong mother. Not only can we guess that Mary gave Jesus an earful when he disappeared from their group of pilgrims, only to turn up in the Temple—but my favorite moment happens at the Wedding Feast at Cana.

You’ll remember that Mary, Jesus and the disciples all went to a wedding in Cana, and while they were there, the wine ran out at the feast. Well, in response to this, Mary tells Jesus that he needs to do something. And, in spite of Jesus saying that it wasn’t his place to do anything; Mary (probably holding her hand to Jesus’ face) simply says to the servants: “Do whatever he tells you…” So, there’s not even a moment where Mary doesn’t have some influence with Jesus.

However, probably the most profound example of Mary’s courage, resolve and love is in the Passion story. Here we’re told that she follows with Jesus for every agonizing step along the way to the cross. Not only does she suffer as someone who loves Jesus as the Christ; but as his mother, and knows and loves him more intimately than anyone else could.

We find Mary not only present then for the Ascension of Jesus, but she is also present with the disciples in the upper room praying and waiting for the Holy Spirit. So, here we find her not only remaining with other believers, but we see her at the very birth of the Church.

Yet, beyond the Scripture, we can also draw a number of other ways in which Mary holds an important place in our faith tradition.

As St. Paul writes in his letter to the Corinthians, that Jesus is a kind of Last Adam, who perfects the humanity that was damaged in the fall of Adam in the Garden. In a way, then, Mary, by her willingness and “Yes” to God’s invitation to bear Jesus likewise represents humanity’s own “Yes” to God, and counters the curse of humanity’s original rebellion.

In John’s Gospel, Mary is entrusted to the Beloved Disciple, and John is likewise entrusted to Mary. For theologians and scholars going back to Polycarp, this moment was considered to be Jesus giving his mother to the whole Church, and the Church being given to Mary. This is why one of the earliest Marian hymns include the words “sub tuum praesidium,” which translates as “beneath your protection.”

The places in which I find Mary intersecting our faith tradition have most to do with sacramental ministry. Where some in the clerical, priestly role think of the ministry as standing in the place of Christ as the presider at the sacraments—we may also say that we stand in the place of Mary, who is the only one who has brought Jesus into the world in a way that is not hidden the way his Presence is hidden in the sacraments.

Icons of Mary, we find, regularly have Mary pointing us to Jesus—in the same way that the meditations of the Rosary are supposed to point us to him.

The point of all of this, is that while Jesus is the model for all our lives, we are also given Mary as an example of humility, discipleship, courage and love. In her we find not only the example of faithful and committed life that we find in all of the saints—but we also find one who reflects the kind of love and adoration that can be seen best in the relationship between mother and child. And because she has been given to the Church, and (I believe continues to pray for us), we can claim her as our own—without feeling like we will break into Protestant hives every time she’s mentioned. Because, in the end, the lesson that she offers to us, by her life and example, can be summed up in her words to the servants about Jesus at the wedding feast at Cana—words which undoubtedly should shape our own lives today. She says simply, “Do whatever he tells you.”  

2 Advent 2013

2 Advent 2013

“You brood of vipers!” Quite possibly the best opening to any sermon in history, and surprisingly, a sermon which drew a number of people to John the Baptizer.

John as we know was a bit of a wild man. He dressed like a prophet, spoke like a prophet, and called people to repent and be restored to true relationship, like a prophet. However, John also had a more specific role in his prophetic call—because he was called to be the herald for the Messiah.

In our Gospel reading today, we see him paraphrase the words of Isaiah, saying that he is a voice crying out in the wilderness; called to prepare the way of the Lord and make his ways straight…

And while we know that people love a spectacle, we may all the same wonder why John could draw such a crowd when he insists on calling people a brood of vipers?

Well, in defense of John, he was not calling everyone a brood of vipers, but specifically he was calling the Pharisees and Sadducees a brood of vipers. Of course, these particular Pharisees and Sadducees happened to have come to be baptized. (But after what John said, I’m sure they’ll never set foot in his church again…)

So, even if these people were part of the religious elite who were continually badgering Jesus; why does John have to be so mean?   

Well, in response, we might ask: how can you fill a cup, which is already full, and how can you hope to see growth when the earth is not tilled for planting? In other words, how can people who live their lives as self-righteous possibly understand their need for righteousness?

Isaiah speaks of a shoot growing out of the stump of Jesse. Jesse, as you may remember, is the father of David, and King David the ancestor of Jesus. As this shoot which grows from the lineage of King David, then, Jesus is the promise and the arbiter of the renewed world where all Creation is at harmony. 

However, what these Pharisees and Sadducees represent are a religious system which cannot give up its own claim on righteousness and justification by religious law. And because they cannot give such things up, there is no space in their lives to receive the grace and hope that is offered first at the river through John’s baptism—and more importantly the hope and grace that comes through Jesus the Messiah.

The whole reason, then for readings like this in the Season of Advent is to allow us to push aside the things that distract us, or crowd our lives. We’re reminded that we have to cast off the things that we hold onto that keep us from making a place for Christ in our lives—and most importantly from receiving the grace and hope that his birth and his Second Coming bring.    

1 Advent 2013

1 Advent 2013

          As you may have guessed by the spiffy blue vestments, today is the first Sunday of the Season of Advent. Advent as many of you know is the season of preparation, and each Sunday we light a candle on the Advent wreath to remind us of how many shopping days we have left until Christmas. So, by the time we get to the pink “rose” candle, you know that you’ll have to pay extra for shipping on your internet purchases…

It is a little sad, really. And I think we laugh because even though it feels so wrong, we know it really is how things are… After all, our consumerism is fueled by a combination of thoughtfulness and obligation—all of which is a strange custom of wanting to give gifts in honor of the gift that our world is given in Jesus Christ. So, while the ends and means are at sixes and sevens; our basic intentions are good. It’s just too bad that instead of these intentions drawing us closer to God, as this season intends—we find ourselves adding more stress and anxiety to lives which already are about as stable as nervous little dogs…and that’s on a good day.

So, we may ask ourselves at the start of this season, how we might experience Advent as truly a time of preparation. I’m not talking about reciting mantras about “the reason for the season,” or scolding people for writing Christmas with an “X,” or even demanding that people wish one another a “Merry Christmas,” rather than “Happy Holidays.” I’m talking about actually using the Season of Advent to prepare a place in our hearts for the Second Advent of Christ, as we celebrate the First Advent of his birth.

Now, this can actually be a difficult thing to do—especially when our faith is already so over merchandised. I mean this is one of the worst seasons for schmaltzy religious kitsch. And there’re already enough Rosaries with football beads and pudgy little angel babies in stores without adding the seasonal stuff to the clutter.

With all of the distraction only adding to the seasonal chaos, then, we may wonder if it’s possible at all to find any grounding in our faith during the holiday season.

Honestly, speaking as a clergy person, I sometimes wonder if it’s possible to get the message out anymore during Advent…

After all, understanding the significance of the birth of Jesus to our lives is something that can’t fully be reckoned until it has been integrated into our lives—and let’s be honest, our culture is anything but “integrated.” I mean, how many of you can raise your hand to show that you have at least one, free, unplanned day this week. No meetings, activities, shopping…I’d like to see your hand. Not many…

Well, I think, the more we realize how committed our time already is, the more we have to consider that maybe we don’t even know where to begin to try to be integrated with everything else, let alone integrate the meaning of the Incarnation of God.

As I was trying to pick up on a sort of theme to present for this Advent, I was reminded (strangely) of something about St. Anthony of the Desert. For those of you who aren’t up on all of the saints from the late 3^rd/early 4^th Centuries, Anthony was one of the Desert Fathers—this group of people who left their homes to live as hermits in the desert, and did their best to live spiritually disciplined lives. There were even Desert Mothers, although very few of their teachings were recorded—but, Anthony, was probably the most famous of these hermits.

Anyway, Anthony lived in a cave in Egypt called Mt. Colzim, and even today there is a monastery at the foot of the mountain. But, as for Anthony’s cave, it’s little more than a series of indentations in the stone. So, Anthony was regularly exposed to all the elements in the desert: extreme heat in the day, and extreme cold at night. Apparently, the only place in the whole “cave” that was any real shelter was the place where Anthony would pray—and this also happened to be the only safe place when the winds would pick up, and blow through the valley. And according to some writings, Anthony would regularly have to hide in this cave, because the winds would pick up to such a force that (if he didn’t have something to hold onto), he would be blown out into the desert—and probably die from the fall. So, when the winds picked up, the safest place for him to be was in his place of prayer.

Now as far as integrated people go, we may not all agree that Anthony is a great example. However, not only did he plan his place of prayer to be his sanctuary, he also had the good sense to more fully immerse himself in his love of God at a time when religion was more about political expediency than devotion…of course, for Anthony it led him to a life of being a hermit.

However, if your life is anything like mine, becoming a hermit, no matter how much faith you have, just may not be in the cards. After all, monastic life is a calling and a vocation—but then so are many of the things that we are called to be in our own lives.

As I’ve said a number of times we have holy vocations to our families, spouses, partners, children. Many of us believe our respective careers are our vocations—and, of course, the central vocation that we have is our faith. And it’s from this central vocation of faith in Jesus Christ that we live more fully into all of the others.

The trouble is, that with all that comes along with our various vocations, often times, we neglect our vocation of faith. So, it’s up to us (hermits or not) to find our place of sanctuary when the winds of life pick up. At the same time, we’re also people of the Advent—people who live a life of wakefulness and preparation for the return of Christ. We’re to be people who live as if we expect the Kingdom of God to turn up in every time and every place.

Unfortunately, because we are not able to leave everything and find a nice cave somewhere, our biggest challenge is learning to integrate all of this into our already fragmented lives. But before we all freak out and think this is impossible, or one more thing that we can’t possibly add to our lives—I would offer this: living a spiritually integrated life begins by asking for it, and practicing it.

So, the trick to much of this is learning that we need integration of faith, and then the work is praying for it and living into it as best we can, every day. Luckily, we have a number of resources to help us with the prayer part, as well. We have Prayer Books; we have a number of small, season devotionals that can be easily carried—and who knows how many apps there probably are for smartphones. The point is, we have to begin by knowing we need it, and then asking for it.

My point is this, the Advent, or coming of Christ in his birth was a kind of end to our world. It was the end of a world where God was transcendent only, and was too holy to be in any way immanent (present).  In Jesus, we find the fulfilment of what the Temple in Jerusalem only foreshadowed—God with us. And as people who await his Second Advent, (that of his return), we prepare for that Final End—but at the same time, we live on the threshold of a world that is passing away, and a new one which is emerging as God’s Kingdom becomes manifest. And this is a powerful thing—that the Kingdom of God is at hand (yes) and is both already and not yet. But instead of focusing in on this mysterious, and wonderful promise—we get distracted. I don’t believe this to be through any fault of our own, but it’s just so easy to fall into the patterns of chaos and business as usual.

But just as our Gospel Reading says, no one—not even Harold Camping knows the day or the season. No one knows when we’ll see the fulfilment of God’s promise—but we’re to live, all the same, with intention—building one another up in faith. We’re called to ‘wake up’ and put on Christ—laying aside works of darkness, and turning our focus on the hope of a world where we will beat our swords into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks.

So, in the midst of one more holiday season, it seems our challenge is doubly difficult. Not only do we need, in the midst of the chaos and consumerism to hold on to some genuine sense of our faith—but we are also challenged to find more depth of faith, as well.

However, the grace of the Advent Season is that we’re invited to prepare a place for Christ in our hearts—to find a place of sanctuary not only for the Christ Child, but even he who is promised to come again. A sanctuary that will always be there (giving us something to hold onto) even when the winds pick up. So, may this Advent be a beginning for our work of integrating our faith more deeply into the fabric of our lives. And may we all find a prayerful place where Christ becomes ever more real, and manifest in our hearts and in our lives. 

4 Advent 2012

Advent 4, 2012

If you ever wondered about the back story to such albums as the Beatles Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band, Cream’s Disraeli Gears or The Wailers’ Catch A Fire, I have good news for you. There exists a whole series of videos called the “Classic Album” series, and includes a number of classic rock albums from the 60’s, 70’s and 80’s. In fact, I’m the proud owner of the video about Nevermind the Bollocks, an album by a particularly infamous punk band from the 70’s…

Anyway, what is great about this series, as well as other series like it, is that the artists themselves, or people close to the production of the album talk about how it came about. They talk about everything from the story behind the songs to how they were written and recorded. What this does, of course, is makes us appreciate the album and songs that much more, because we get a whole extra dimension to the work.

Obviously, for all of its novelty, this isn’t the first series to do something like this…in fact, this is just one example of a much more respected tradition. After all, musicians and music historians have travelled the world, and pored through documents trying to piece together the stories behind certain pieces of music and their composers. Like the “Classic Album” series, the work of such people offers a new depth to the music.

Now, certainly we could say the same thing about writers, artists and almost any other thing in the world. But the reason I mention music first is because, as it turns out, the largest part of our Gospel reading today happens to be a song—one which you might have recognized from our prayer book as the Magnificat.

The reason it’s in our prayer book is because it is one of a number of ancient songs used in Early Church worship called canticles; and all of them but one (the Te Deum) are taken directly from Scripture. In fact, the Magnificat, is one of the eight most ancient Christian hymns, and is likely the earliest Marian hymn.

Now while this song only appears in Luke’s Gospel, it is reflective in form of the hymns of praise in the Psalter, and has a similar structure to pre-Christian, contemporary Jewish hymns. The Magnificat also has some allusions to the Song of Hannah (the Prophet Samuel’s mother) in the First Book of Samuel—a song likewise offered by a woman surprised and thankful to be a mother.

And while scholars are not really sure whether or not Mary actually composed and sang this song, Luke’s Gospel has her almost prophetically proclaiming the hope and promise that the Child Jesus portends. So, in a sense, we see here a kind of back story to the Magnificat beginning to emerge.

However, there is a whole lot more to the context of this song than just what we’re given in the earlier section of this first chapter of Luke’s Gospel. Because if we were to add in all of the contextual background to this canticle, we would definitely have quite a picture of what this canticle means for all of us.

Without going all the way back to Genesis, we already know that things went bad in Creation at some point. We also know that from the various stories, both good and bad, that God continued to call humanity back to right, loving relationship with God. From kings, queens, prophets, judges, priests and soldiers—even a donkey, we’ve heard the call of God to God’s People to return and be made whole. And among these people were questionable, and even shady characters—but all of them played their part in bringing to fruition the promise that God made to Creation, to Abraham, to Moses, to David, to Isaiah, to Joel, to Micah and all of those many people waiting in exile.

What’s interesting is that Matthew’s Gospel reminds us that even some of those questionable characters were even ancestors to Jesus—at one point even mentioning that King Solomon was the son of King David and Bethsheba, the wife of Uriah (ouch.).

 But even in the stark honesty that surrounds it, we see how Mary’s song is one of triumph and hope. Because just as it is in our lives today, there is a whole lot of good and bad that come together to make us who we are now, even  in this moment. What this affirms for us then is not only the incarnation of all that makes us who we are, but is also the confirmation that we also participate in this song with Mary, and it becomes our song as well.

It becomes our song in so far as we as Christians participate in the history and story from which this song emerges. As the Body of Christ, we are adopted by this history of God’s people, Israel to become part of this continuing work of salvation that is initiated in Jesus Christ.

Of course, this is to say nothing of how the Magnificat is the song of our humanity as well. Because as we share a common heritage in our race’s parents, we also share in the perfection of humanity that is Jesus—and so, it is out our diverse histories and experiences that we join Mary in giving praise to God for the promise of Jesus Christ—the one who is our hope and  our salvation.

But along with this commonality in humanity and hope that we find with Mary, we also find our own places in the continuing salvation history of God. In effect, as we claim our own salvation in Jesus Christ, and claim our common history with God’s people, we find that our own personal story becomes inter-woven with the story of Mary, even the story of Jesus, and of course the whole story of God. So that in the end, what we find in learning about the back story of the the Song of Mary, is much of our own story.

Because the back story to the Magnificat, is the story of God’s promises being fulfilled through Israel. It’s a story of God’s salvation being drawn like a thread through history using some unlikely characters. It’s a story which manifests in the center of time, but illumines all of time. Because the story of Mary’s Magnificat is the story of humanity. It is our reminder and call to always hold fast to hope, because God is faithful. And it’s our reminder that each of us plays our part in bringing about hope in this world as we work to continue Christ’s work of salvation in the world.

3 Advent 2012

Advent 3, 2012

          So when does the Good News sound like bad news? Probably when the preacher is wearing camel skins, has locust and wild honey breath and begins his sermon with the words: “You brood of vipers!”

Most likely this is a great way to stir-up a bunch of Baptists, but I would guess there are a lot of us who would shy away from this sort of preaching. All the same, Luke’s Gospel tells us that the people were already gathering to be baptized by John, and even after being called to task, they were only more eager to know what they needed to do to change.

Now there is part of our modern culture which might see this situation as a response to emotional extortion. We might feel that these poor wretched sinners are looking for repentance because they feel brow-beaten by John’s words… I can say it definitely makes preaching a sermon on it a bit tenuous—especially when we start talking about unquenchable fire (that always makes us squirm).

But the fact is that these people were showing-up well before John starts in with the fire and the chopping-off of branches stuff. What we’re witness to instead is a group of people truly responding to John’s call to repentance because they realize how badly they need it.

  

While John’s words are jarring and even frightening; it’s as if he is a kind of physician who is delivering a tough prognosis to the patients of this world. In a way he’s explaining to a weary, sin-sick people that they needn’t live this way anymore. He invites them to see that the broken world system that perpetuates greed, selfishness and violence is just a shadow, or even a husk that can be cast away. But he explains that the only treatment for our illness is repentance.

I can’t imagine the spectacle of this scene, but we’re told that there is a diverse group gathered on the banks of the Jordan River. This is evidenced by tax collectors, and soldiers who are asking what things they need to do to bear these fruits of repentance. Very simply, John exhorts them to simply be content and not strive to take from others—which is a little anti-climactic when John has spent all of this time preparing people for what sounds like the worst.

But in truth, outside of being content and taking care of others, the fruits of repentance that he speaks of are not that hard to reach. Unfortunately, as easy as all of it sounds, things are still not alright in the world, and the symptoms of this fact are terrible.

As I’m sure any of you would have expected, the tragic mass shooting that happened Friday morning in Connecticut has reshaped my sermon. Because what happened in this sleepy little town is a stark reminder that things are not alright.

We, as a culture, are not alright.

We as the human race are not alright.

In fact, what happened Friday should be evidence of our inability to pull ourselves up out of a kind of “pop culture of violence.” What I mean by this is that after the senseless murder of innocents; we will be inundated for days with new speculation into why and how such a thing could happen again. We’ll be witness to any number of multi-million dollar ad campaigns about gun control and second amendment rights. The name of the young man responsible will be immortalized as one more enigmatic piece in this puzzle of why we can call school shootings epidemic. Which is to say nothing of how tragic it is that we even have a term like “school shootings” in our daily vernacular. And while his name will be remembered in cultural memory, the names of his victims will be lost to time…

 But throughout all of it, the one thing that will be continually affirmed is that if you’re looking for a way to make a splash, and make a name for yourself, and you’re just selfish enough to commit to it—you can at least be infamous by committing this kind of evil act.

It’s not my intention to stand here today to talk about the problems of bullying in our schools that can lead to making people into predators. It’s not my intention to make this my forum to talk about gun control. Instead, I stand in the pulpit to remind us all that these things are symptomatic of a much deeper issue.

I wish that by telling kids to be nice to each other that we could stop bullying from happening. I wish that stricter gun laws would be enough to end the staggering amount of gun related violence in our country. But these are only symptoms; and our media seems to be working harder and harder to displace the blame through endless red herrings. Sadly all of this leaves us less clearly informed, and only more polarized, narcissistic and distant from one-another…separation and isolation—two of the more definitive bi-products of sin.

But it’s not only media that is to blame, because after all they’re only delivering what our culture says we want. In any case, what we find as we try to parse out the meaning of this tragedy, and every other tragedy in this life; what I’m sure we find is the choice between allowing this system to shape how we are or being freed from this system through Christ to be who we are…

The people who showed up on the river banks the day that John was preaching were not people who had fallen prey to a guy passionately preaching hellfire and brimstone. These were people who were roused by God’s Spirit to say that this is enough. These people responded to a call back to reason—a call to receive the promise of repentance.

So today, like every day we’re invited to make the choice to either fall into this broken pattern, or love God with all of our heart, soul mind and spirit; and our neighbors as ourselves…

Bearing the fruits worthy of repentance then, means that we will not allow ourselves to accept the poisonous, broken systems of this world as the only option. It means affirming the good, believing the good and inspiring the good in others. It means no longer ignoring violence of every kind—whether it’s systemic or symptomatic. It means no longer hiding behind church doors until better days come; because we know that it is our responsibility to affect the change we hope to see.

Bearing the fruits worthy of repentance means no longer ignoring the plight of the poor, the sick, the homeless, the lonely or the aged. It means no longer being content to be a sleeping giant.

John’s words to us are very simple: “Wake up!” Live life as if you had been redeemed from darkness. Live as if the negative cycles in our lives have been cast-off like wheat chaff and are waiting to be thrown into unquenchable fire.    

While we may not immediately see the positive effects of those ripples that we send out into the world through our good works and lively faith—when Jesus returns, with his winnowing fork in hand; when he returns to burn away the husk of this world so that the true world and the life giving grain can be seen: that’s when we’ll know and understand that we have made a difference in this world, because we have made a choice to bear good fruit…fruit that is evidence that our life and love of Jesus Christ means something to us.