Lent 1C, 3/9/2025: Why Lent? Why is this part of the church calendar, and why do we observe it each year, just before Easter?
The thought behind the question, and why I start that way, is that I have heard from a number of Episcopalians throughout the years that they don’t like Lent. It is too dark, too solemn, too unhappy. The joy of Easter and Christmas are great, the elevated vibe of Epiphany and Pentecost are good, even the middling vibe of Advent is good –Jesus’ birth is great, the warnings of the Second Coming, meh but brief.
But Lent, I’ve been told, is just a drag. Its theme is repentance and its message is that we are sinners before a holy God who does not tolerate evil. Therefore we need to repent and make a turn from our ways in order to be approved by God. And that’s a message that one, is not fun or joyful, and two you may not relate to in your understanding of what God is like.
I get it, it can be a drag. It can be a real bummer.
To address that, I want to read for you the part of the Ash Wednesday service called the “Invitation to the observance of a Holy Lent.” Part of that prayer reads this way: paraphrasing here, because Easter was a day to baptize converts to the faith and restore to full communion those who had been separated from communion because of sin, quote, “the whole congregation was put in mind of the message of pardon and absolution set forth in the Gospel of our Savior, and of the need which all Christians continually have to renew their repentance and faith.
“I invite you, therefore, in the name of the Church, to the observance of a holy Lent, by self-examination and repentance; by prayer, fasting, and self-denial; and by reading and meditating on God’s holy Word.“
If Easter is about forgiveness and new life from God, then Lent is about remembering what needs repenting and turning away from. It is a time of reflection and self-examination, to find the areas in us and in the world around us that aren’t in alignment with the will and desires of God so that we know how and where to turn godward in order to make it right.
Lent reminds us that there is brokenness in the world, and sometimes within us, and that this should not be, and should not be allowed to continue in that state. It helps us from skipping over the process of repentance that leads to forgiveness and straight to the new life from God.
It’s not a fun process, nor an easy one sometimes, but it is an important one. How can you have restoration without repentance, after all?
So here’s the to-do for us these next weeks of Lent; consider where one of the spiritual disciplines may be used to engage the meaning of the season of Lent. Spiritual disciplines is a fancy way of saying different practices that Christians have used to engage their spiritual sides, and taking from what I said before about the observation of a Holy Lent, they include quiet moments of self-examination, regular times of prayer, fasting & abstaining, and reading & meditating on holy writings.
Maybe these next weeks you can set aside 5 minutes in the morning before you start your day for quiet prayer, so that your day will be holy and good. Or end each day with the compline service from the prayer book. It takes less than 10 minutes to pray that service. Or pray the morning office from the prayer book, which takes about 15 minutes. If you’re interested in these but don’t know who to do it or where to start, let me know and I can help you with that.
Maybe these next weeks you want to try regular fasting as a part of prayer, and a reminder that our dependance is on God, or abstaining from something as a way to make new habits that are healthier for your heart, soul, and well-being. Abstaining from things that are not good for your soul can do tremendous good for one’s mental health, and Lent is an appropriate time to do so.
Or maybe these weeks you would want to regularly read each morning something from the Bible or another writing that inspires you to good thoughts and to love those around you more – something that helps you to bring more goodness into the world, whether that be poetry or the writings of people who are working to bring peace, justice and love to the world. You have about 6 weeks to read through the four Gospels. Two chapters a day, probably 10 minutes, should be just about right to get you to Easter.
My invitation, and my own intention for these 40 days of Lent, is to take this season seriously. To not just let it pass by like any other week of the year, but to be intentional about it and engage in the disciplines, in order that it may reach down into our hearts and souls, that we would be inspired to turn godward and find joy and life in God.
So together with you, my friends in Christ, may we find this season to be not simply a bummer, but to be holy. May we make room in our schedules and in our lives for God’s spirit to speak to us and to turn our hearts. And in doing so may we find even greater joy and life as God revealed it to us through Jesus Christ.
Ash Wednesday, 3/5/2025: In the reading of our Gospel today, we hear Jesus say, “Beware of practicing your piety before others in order to be seen by them; for then you have no reward from your Father in heaven.” And then he goes on to say when you give alms, when you pray, and when you fast, to do so in private and not publicly like hypocrites.
And at the end of this service you will be walking out of here with ashes on your forehead in the shape of a cross…
(hopefully, depending on my dexterity and how closely they look to a cross and not a smudge like you were changing a tire on your car)
And going out into the world, publicly showing everyone what you did today.
So, are we being hypocritical, and doing exactly what Jesus told us not to do?
I don’t think so. Consider what Jesus said about almsgiving, the first of his three warnings: “Whenever you give alms, do not sound a trumpet before you, as the hypocrites do in the synagogues and in the streets, so that they may be praised by others. Truly I tell you, they have received their reward.”
Notice in there that the reason for being vocal and public with the giving of alms is so that they may be praised by others. The prohibition is against doing these acts in order to gain the praise, affirmation, and respect of other people. That’s the warning, and therefore the admonition to do so privately.
For how many of you, do you walk out of here thinking how awesome other people will think you are because you went to an Ash Wednesday service? Rather, I think you are either going to go about it sheepishly and hope no one says anything, or else you’re wondering how long you’re contractually obligated to keep it on before you wipe it off in the bathroom or in your car.
Maybe I’m wrong, but I don’t think many people in this service are here so that other people around Menlo Park will think you’re an amazing person because of the ashes on your forehead.
So no, I don’t think we’re being hypocritical.
But why are we here?
What we do here is to remind us that life is short, and that our lives are not our own. At the creation of humankind in Genesis, God took the dust of the earth and with it formed the man, Adam. Even his name is related to the Hebrew word for dirt, earth. He was created from the dust. And when he died, he was buried and his both returned to the dust from which he came.
He did not live forever as was God’s intention, to live in harmony with God and all creation, but he and Eve, the woman with him, sinned against the command of God, and for that they both died. They were made of the dust of the earth, and their bodies returned to the dust.
And we continue to do the same, to live the years we get and then to return to the earth. Life is short.
And our life is not our own. It has been given to us by God. In the garden at the creation of humankind, God breathed life into the dust and life sprang forth. The life of God was infused in the life of Adam and Eve.
Then, when Christ appeared, he came that we may be given eternal life. He came to give us the life that was lost through the sin of our ancestors. Paul, in his first letter to the Corinthians, wrote that Jesus became the second Adam for us: The first Adam became a living being, Jesus is the second Adam, a life-giving spirit.
So though we are destined to return to the dust when our breath gives out, we have hope for a life after this life because of the life promised to us through Jesus.
Our life is not our own. It has been given to us by God. And after we have been gathered to the earth, we will breathe the new life that is in Christ.
So together with you, my friends in Christ, may we remember that this life is precious, and to not waste the breath that has been given to us. May we have hope in the new life in Christ that there will be a life after this life. And may this be a holy Lent for us, that we would turn our hearts godward more and more each day.
Last Sunday after Epiphany, 3/2/2025: Today is a special day in the Lectionary, the calendar of readings that instruct us which scripture readings go with any given Sunday, feast days, and fast days.
It’s most familiar name to us is the Last Sunday after the Epiphany. That’s the name on our bulletins and most commonly used in the Episcopal Church. But there’s really around six names for this Sunday:
But there are some much, much more fun ones:
As you can hopefully tell from this, today is the last Sunday before Lent begins on Wednesday. Historically it was a season of feasting preceding the fast of Lent, and an opportunity to use up that which would go bad during Lent: Meat, dairy, and other perishables that were historically forbidden from consumption during Lent.
So here we are, Quinquagresima. The Last Sunday after the Epiphany. Transfiguration Sunday.
I’m grateful that it’s Transfiguration Sunday for two reasons today. First, because the Transfiguration is one of my favorite moments in the life of Christ. It is the moment when the veil was momentarily lifted for Peter, James, and John as they saw Jesus’ hidden glory revealed on the holy mount. And such an occasion allows me to dig into my reflections lately that we all probably could focus a bit more together on encountering the divine together.
First, the Transfiguration. You’ve just heard the story from Luke’s Gospel, where Jesus ascends the mountain with the three, and while there his appearance is changed – transfigured – before them, and his clothes become dazzling white. Then Moses and Elijah appear, and speak with him about his departure – his Exodus. After Peter speaks, the cloud overshadows them and the hear the voice, entreating them to listen to the beloved Son of God.
It’s a brilliant moment for the three. They are privileged that they were able to see Jesus in this way, the only time in all the Gospels that Jesus’ appearance is changed into the divine glory as it was. For the the curtain between heaven and earth was pulled back for just a moment, and they could start to see Jesus for who he truly is.
Because it is such a unique and special moment in the lift of Christ, it has been frequently represented in iconography. The various representations are quite similar in their depictions. Jesus is top center with Moses and Elijah at his side. They are standing at the top of the mountain, with separate peaks for each. Below are the three disciples, falling down the mountain head first, awe-struck, as if they have been overthrown why the sight of it all. And behind Jesus is the aura of divine glory.
As expected, the divine glory is presented as a light behind him, white, or yellow, or blue. But sometimes, the divine glory is black, and the aura behind Jesus is not bright, but dark.
It’s puzzling at first, maybe even off-putting. Why should the glory of God be presented as black?
But icons are not meant to be understood, they are to be interpreted. They are meant to make one ponder, and to think, and to wonder. They exist to make us contemplate the divine, and to pause and spend time meditating on what God is like, and to be inspired and filled with awe. They are not art per se. They’re more like Scripture, prayers, or devotionals than art.
The black aura of the transfigured Jesus is there to make us reflect on the divine glory. Perhaps even to surprise us. And to skip to the point, here’s my interpretation of the dark aura of holy light: the majesty of God is beyond human comprehension, and the magnitude of God’s glory is beyond our ability to grasp beyond the little that has been given to us. The blackness is a reflection of our inability to understand just how wonderful is our God. Just as our eyes are unable to perceive God’s glory, our minds are unable to understand it. And the disciples who were present for this are overthrown by it and cast down from seeing God’s glory.
What I like so much about the story of the Transfiguration is how the very human Jesus that we see in his life and teaching and deeds in the Gospels is, for a moment, revealed to have more going on in the divine realm than normally meets the eye, and for that point in time the three disciples were able to see what had been hidden from their eyes as they travelled with their teacher.
That’s the main point for today. Here’s the second: I read an article about the decline of mainstream Christian denominations in which the author gave an assessment of the cause for the decline. I read plenty of these, but one section in this caught my attention where it discussed “the rise of progressive ideology in Christian churches.” Here’s the first sentence: “The tension between ideology and theology in the church raises an urgent question: What happens when the church becomes more focused on movements and agendas than on fostering genuine encounters with God?”
I can relate to that. That got me, because I recognize that I can tend that way myself in our Sunday worship. What is the one part of our worship that isn’t scripted for us as Episcopalians and can be shaped however we wish? The sermon. And what do most of my sermons do? I try to take the teachings of Jesus and use them to derive at a call to action of how we are to live.
By far most this call to action is most often about how we treat one another. The teachings of Jesus largely focus on how we treat others, and how to love our neighbor. The Sermon on the Mount, which we are discussing at length in SoulWork, is almost entirely focused on how we live; not what we believe or learn about God, but how we conduct ourselves toward one another. So that’s where I end up most times: ideology and agenda.
But that stuck with me: “What happens when the church becomes more focused on movements and agendas than on fostering genuine encounters with God?” The author goes on to write that “this is not to say that social welfare or social justice programs are not important. Rather my point is that the order is reversed.”
The Church is not a social justice organization that worships. It is a worshipping community that loves its neighbor. Especially in this season of Epiphany, where the glory of God was made manifest to the world through Jesus, I am struck by that reminder that we are about having genuine encounters with the living God, and bring reminded of the glorious presence of God with us – even when it’s difficult to perceive or difficult to understand. Because that is the God we love and who created us, and called us to walk in love as Christ loved us.
So may you, my friends in Christ, see the divine glory of God and be awestruck at it. May you be changed into the likeness of Christ, just as Moses’ face shone radiant after he encountered God on the holy mountain. And may we all be a worshipping community that loves all our neighbors.
Epiphany 6C, 2/16/2025: In each of today’s scripture readings from our lectionary we are presented with a duality: “This” or “that” is true.
The Prophet Jeremiah shares God’s Word: Cursed are those who trust in mere mortals, blessed are those who trust in the Lord.
Our Psalm, Psalm 1, the first verse of all the Psalms begins with: Happy are those… who delight in the law of the Lord. It continues, Cursed are those… who walk in the counsel of the wicked.
In 1 Corinthians, either Jesus has been raised from the dead, or we are all dead in our sins.
In the Gospel text, Jesus mirrors the blessings and curses to one another as he says, Blessed are you who are poor, who hunger, who weep, and are poorly regarded… But woe to you who are rich, full, happy, and are well-spoken of.
Many of us find dualities hard to swallow. I tend to, I think. Sometimes I’m prone to either/or thinking, but more often I get mired down in the greyness of life. There are always an exception, or questions about what-if’s that pop up that make such hard and fast yes/no situations difficult to adjudicate.
And so we may tend to embrace some “both/and” thinking, or desire to, rather than getting stuck in “either/or.” We don’t want to be boxed in, and we very much don’t want to be judgmental. It wouldn’t be Episcopalian of us to do so!
Our resistance to such dualities has roots deep in our Anglican spirituality. Our institutional DNA was formed by the Elizabethan Settlement back in 1559 that sought a via media, or middle way, between Rome and Geneva, between Roman Catholics and Calvinist Reformers. Episcopalians are known for continuing to embrace ambiguity as part of a life of faith. We are cautious about rigid “black and white” thinking, more comfortable than many of our fellow Christians with the metaphorical “grey.”
Thanks be to God that there is room in the Anglican tradition for people to be open and honest about their doubts! That was one of the most appealing parts of the Episcopal faith for me when I first found St. John’s in Farmington, NM. The ability to ask questions, to have my doubts, and to find encouragement in my journey from black and white, either/or thinking from my earlier years in Christian churches was a breath of fresh air.
And so, amid our embrace of the ambiguity and greyness of our lived experience of this life, our Scriptures present us with these dualities before us today.
The blessings are easy enough to accept. Blessed are those whose trust is in God. Blessed are those who have hope in the resurrection. Blessed are those whom God approves of and has come to their aid in this life.
The curses, those can be harder to accept. Does God, or will God, bring harm upon those who don’t live up to such a standard? Will God curse and punish those who do not hold the “correct” beliefs about God and what God is like?
That’s at the core of what we will be discussing at Pizza Theology this week. What does God want for us to know about God, and to believe about God, and what, if any, are the consequences for getting it wrong? And then what do we do with the creeds, such as the one that we recite together each week, if they do not line up with our own personal understanding of God?
Is life as much a binary as the Scriptures sometimes present?
Remember, now, that we are still in the season of Epiphany. The Feast of Epiphany that kicks off this season between Christmas and Lent is symbolized in the star that guided the wise men from the East to the infant Jesus. So light becomes a metaphor for the truth brought by Jesus into the world. The baby Jesus is proclaimed the light of the world. Jesus is the light that shined in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it. And this light continues to illuminate our hearts and our world so that all may see and know God. The light is the truth of God coming into the world.
Remember also that epiphany means “manifestation” or “revelation.” It is the revealing, or the unveiling, of Jesus to the world. That the world is learning about Jesus, discovering who he is. He hasn’t changed, but he was unknown until he appeared at the Jordan to be baptized, until he changed water to wine at Cana, until he preached his message of God’s favor for the poor, the blind, the imprisoned, the sick, and the oppressed. He existed, but he wasn’t known.
And God is like that. God exists, but we struggle to know what God is like, and what we know is certainly incomplete, lacking, and likely to be wildly off, if God is truly the almighty, the infinite, the unknowable, the ineffible.
Perhaps the Via Media in all this is not that God’s favor expressed toward us isn’t an in/out, yes/no situation, but that our lived experience tends toward the blessings and the curses based upon how we are living in light of the revelation that has been given to us, of the light that we have received.
Another Episcopal priest connected these readings to a proverb by Hatiian Christians: “The full stomach has no need of God.” Applied to the context of Luke’s Gospel, and the blessings given are to those who know and understand their need for God’s grace; the woes are directed to those whose self-sufficiency and contentedness shield them from recognizing their need of divine grace in their lives.
For a long time, I’ve believed that the point of this life is to do the best that we can with what has been given to us.
Sometimes we are sitting amidst abundance. Sometimes we are sitting amidst our poverty and lack. And that applies not only to wealth, but to life in general.
Do the best that we can with what has been given to us.
If it is in revelation about what God is like, to receive that with acceptance and to respond in faith as we move forward from that light that we have received. And if we are lacking in understanding, to do our best with what we have seen and understood about the Holy one and to live faithfully with what we know and believe.
If it is in our possessions and in our wealth, that we are generous with the abundance that we have been given from God. And if we see someone who is lacking in their daily needs, to open our hearts to them and to share our abundance freely so that their needs will be met. If we are lacking ourselves, to find peace in contentment and to allow ourselves to ask for help when we need it.
If it is in our relationships, to learn from our experiences, to be forgiving and patient, and to help others to grow as well. And if we have been harmed and our souls broken by others, to learn how to trust those who are safe and to protect ourselves against those who would harm us.
And now where does that put us in relation to our readings today?
Well, it’s still Epiphany, so what do we learn about God and about Jesus in what we heard read today?
That God wants us to listen, to learn that which is good and to discern how to distinguish it from that which is evil, to promote the good, and to not become complacent, to take it for granted, or to isolate ourselves from others who are in need or suffering in this life. That there is a point to our lives, that there are things that God desires from us and of us, and that there are blessings and joy to be found in these things. And if we don’t, that there are blessings that we will miss out on, because walking in the way of Jesus is the best possible way to live.
So may you, my friends in Christ, trust in the Lord that you may experience God’s blessings upon your life. May you delight in the revelation of God to you, that you may seek and find the goodness of God as you are freed from the power of sin and death. And may your hunger, your poverty, your mourning be turned to joy and abundance in all the blessings of our Lord Christ Jesus.
Epiphany 5C, 2/9/2025: You may have noticed in recent years, like the past decade or two, that superhero movies have dominated the blockbuster movie business. Whether from the Marvel or the DC comic universe, each year pumps out multiple movies based on superheroes from comic books. There’s superman, spiderman, batman, Iron Man — lots of men, apparently. But there’s also Captain Marvel, Wonder Woman, Black Widow, and plenty of women getting headlines too.
Why are superheroes so popular?
I think that, first of all, Superheroes continue to be so popular because, to quote an online author, “In times of trouble, people tend to wish for someone who is bigger than them to help them. Superheroes are strong, tough, and can kick some serious butt. They are always fighting the “bad guys” whether that be the Nazis or aliens. They help people. They make sure they stand up for the common man. And ultimately, they save people.”
They’re the good guys who have an altruistic desire to help people in trouble. And they have incredible powers to do so.
But not only that, I believe their popularity stems from the sense we want to be like them. We want to be able to do what they do. To reach outside of ourselves, to be bigger than we are, to be stronger, more capable, better versions of ourselves. To do the extraordinary, because at the core we find ourselves too ordinary, too incapable. But if anything, our Scriptures show us that God does not work with extraordinary people.
God does not call extraordinary people, but God does call upon ordinary people to do the extraordinary work of God.
Peter, for example, was by no means an extraordinary person. When Jesus meets him, he is working with his father as a fisherman, alongside his brother Andrew, and also James and John. That is an important fact. It shows just how ordinary Peter was. Like most all Jewish boys and girls at the time, he was likely well-versed in the Torah, having committed much of it to memory. And for only a select few of the brightest and best learners, they would be selected for further instruction and learning to become a rabbi themselves. These children would be invited to become a rabbi’s apprentice, and to continue to study with that person and follow them in all they did.
When Jesus met Peter, he wasn’t one of these select few. He wasn’t studying and being taught in the Scriptures. He wasn’t a disciple of a rabbi. He was working, like the vast masses of people who were never selected to study under a rabbi, but instead went to work and to live a normal, ordinary life.
Until he met Jesus.
In Luke’s Gospel, Jesus meets Peter at the shores of the Sea of Galilee, also called Genessaret as we have in Luke’s Gospel, and as the crowd presses in on Jesus, he gets into Peter’s boat and has him push the boat out a little ways off the shore. This is apparently because the sound of Jesus’ voice would carry better over the water due to the effect it has on acoustics versus speaking over solid land. But then, after addressing the crowd, Jesus tells Peter and those working with him to go further into deep water and let down their nets, which when they do so they make the miraculous catch of so many fish.
Peter, then, has the most curious of responses to this. He turns to Jesus and tells him to go away. “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.” He can’t bear to think of his unworthiness in the presence of this Holy Man, with whom God is clearly at work doing the extraordinary.
But perhaps it’s not so curious. It is the same response that Isaiah had when he encountered the Almighty God in a vision. Upon seeing the Lord and hearing the angels calling out, “Holy, Holy, Holy Lord,” Isaiah bewails that he is a sinful man who is standing in the presence of a Holy God.
It’s the same response that Paul had, when he was walking along the road to Damascus in Acts 9, still known by his birth name as Saul, and encountered the risen Jesus on the path. Saul was on his way to Damascus to arrest the Christians there when a blinding light appears and he hears a voice say, “Why do you persecute me?” When Saul asks “Who are you Lord,” he hears “Jesus of Nazareth,” and from then on he no longer persecuted the faithful, but became one of the foremost apostles, alongside Peter.
In these three circumstances, after these men have seen the greatness of God and lamented their sinfulness before a great and holy God, God then calls them to serve him.
Saul the persecutor becomes Paul the missionary. Isaiah, the man of unclean lips, is called to be a prophet speaking the very words of God. And Peter, the fisherman, is called to leave his nets to follow Jesus of Nazareth and to be a “fisher of men” as Jesus calls it. They were ordinary people, who were called to do the extraordinary work of God.
And that’s where we find ourselves. That this same God is calling you and me, appallingly ordinary people, to do the work of God in this world. To worship, to pray, to bring peace and justice to all the world, to care for the poor and the broken-hearted.
And in this we find that God does not need us to be extraordinary, but to be faithful. Like the Apostle Paul, who chalked it up to the grace of God, and the kindness and goodness of God, to make use of his ordinariness and to overcome his shortcomings.
And that is the grace of God, to accept us and to use us, just the way that we are, as servants in the Kingdom of God, to share that same hope and love, and to bring healing and restoration to the world.
So may you, my friends in Christ, hear God’s call to spread the message of God’s love far and wide. May you respond in extraordinary faith, knowing that God can use your ordinariness to do wonderful things. And may your lives be an inspiration to others of what God can do through those who respond in faith.
Epiphany 4C, Presentation of our Lord in the Temple, 2/2/2025: I am especially delighted to be worshipping with you today, because today is one of my favorite feast days of the Christian calendar: Groundhog Day.
This is a day that we only get to celebrate together on average once every 7 years, as it needs to fall on a Sunday. The last time that Groundhog Day fell on a Sunday, however, was in 2020, so it has come around extra early.
I shared what I’m about to share with you two years ago, which I’m a little bummed that I did that. It takes the wind out of my sails a little to think that this isn’t all new, and that I did so on a day that was NOT Groundhog Day, but I’m going to repeat it anyways because it is a delightful thing to reflect on.
To do so, a little history is in order on this feast day.
You know the basics of Groundhog Day – that on February 2nd, if the groundhog sees its shadow – which it did this morning! – there will be 6 more weeks of winter, but if it does not, then spring will come early. But here’s what you probably don’t know.
According to legend, Punxsutawney Phil, from Punxsutawney Pennsylvania, is the same groundhog that has been predicting the weather since 1887, supernaturally kept alive by drinking Groundhog Punch every October at the annual groundhog picnic. And early on the morning of February 2nd, the members of the Inner Circle (the ones wearing tuxes and top hats) find out from Phil if he’s seen his shadow. Phil tells the
But this was not a tradition born in Pennsylvania, or even in the United States. This is a tradition that arrived with German settlers to the New World, whose celebrations involved whether or not a badger would cast a shadow on this date, February 2nd. Originally it had been if a bear saw its shadow, but as the bear population declined, it was replaced by badgers.
Interesting note: In other European cultures, similar traditions and superstitions existed as well, and in Scotland, the tradition was if a hedgehog saw its shadow it would be a hard winter ahead.
Why hedgehogs, bears, and badgers? Because they all hibernate, or rather enter into torpor which is sort of a less deep sleep than hibernation. And if the weather is mild enough they will come out of their hiding places to look for food.
All this, though, developed from the observation of the Christian feast of Candlemas, where tradition arose that if the weather on Candlemas was good, on February 2nd, then the rest of winter would be harsh. I Scotland the saying was “If Candlemas be fair and clear, there’ll be ‘twa winters in the year.”
Now, what is Candlemas? It is the traditions around the celebration of the Christian feast, the Presentation of our Lord in the Temple. 40 days after the nativity of Jesus, after Christmas Day, our calendars mark the journey of the Holy Family to Jerusalem where the Jewish customs around the birth of the firstborn male child in each family. And on this journey, the Holy Family is greeted by Simeon, who declares that Jesus is the light of the world in the familiar words of the Nunc Dimittis.
He holds the child and says, “Lord, you now have set your servant free to go in peace as you have promised; For these eyes of mine have seen the Savior, whom you have prepared for all the world to see: A Light to enlighten the nations, and the glory of your people Israel.”
A light to enlighten the nations, and the Feast of the Presentation evolves to be a celebration of light, and for the followers of Christ this day to celebrate by bringing their candles to be blessed by the priest, that they may bring light to their homes, just as Jesus brought light to the world.
So we move from the feast of the Presentation of Jesus in the Temple to Candlemas to Groundhog Day. Groundhog Day is directly descended from the feast of the presentation.
Now, taking heed from our collect for the day, just as Jesus was presented to God as holy, and redeemed before the lord as holy, redeemed by the price of the lives of the two birds, so too does Jesus present us as holy to God, redeemed by the price of Jesus’ life. A significant price too. Which should cause us all the more to want to be holy people. Our other readings reflect this. Malachi describes God as the fire that melts gold and silver to remove inpurities from it and leave the pure, precious metal behind. To be honest, that sounds downright unpleasant, but the purpose is to arrive at the end result–purity.
The author of Hebrews presents Jesus as a high priest, like us in every way so that he could make atonement for sin and present us holy to God, releasing us from the power and fear of death, so that we might be free to be a godly people.
This is our Lord. This is the light, that enlightens all the world, prepared for all the world to see!
So may you, my friends in Christ, rejoice in Jesus, the light who was prepared for all the world to see. May you be made holy through the grace of our Lord, who is a refining fire to make his people pure. And may you spread the light of Christ to all who could use a little light in their lives.
Epiphany 3C, 1/26/2025: The bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Washington created quite a stir this week, didn’t she?
I’ll catch you up on it if you don’t know. On Tuesday, the National Cathedral held their traditional Service of Prayer for the Nation following the presidential inauguration. They do it every year, and this year as always it was held with the President, Vice President, Speaker of the house, members of Congress and the Supreme Court, and many others in positions of power in the federal government present, and Bishop Budde of the Diocese of Washington caught the nation’s attention with her sermon. At the conclusion of it, she implored the President to consider how he might be merciful to people who were scared this day.
For some, it was a glorious moment, to speak to power and to speak on behalf of the vulnerable and those who are afraid of what is to come and how it will affect or hurt them. Similar to when Presiding Bishop Michael Curry preached at the Royal wedding of William and Kate and caught the world’s attention as he spoke on the power of love, Bishop Budde did the same with her plea for mercy toward the vulnerable amongst us.
For others, it was an unwelcome mixing of politics and religion, and out of place for the bishop to import such language into a service that was supposed to be about unity.
For that, I’m glad that we have our Gospel reading this morning, as I think it speaks wonderfully to our current situation.
As it is the Season of Epiphany, we come to Jesus’ first sermon. Jesus, just having returned from the wilderness where he was tempted by Satan, has been going about the Galilean countryside, teaching in the synagogues. Now he comes to Nazareth, his hometown where he grew up. And on the Sabbath, he enters the synagogue, opens the Isaiah scroll, and reads:
“The spirit of the Lord is upon me. I speak with the authority of God, and act in the power of God. The poor among you shall be lifted up. The imprisoned shall no longer be locked up. The captives shall be set free. Those who can’t see shall see again. And all must know, this is the year that God has come to make all this come about.” He stops reading and says to them, “And now you must know, God is using me to make it happen.”
And all those who heard it thought, “Let’s murder him.”
They heard these words Jesus spoke, of his call to turn the world order upside down, to bring restoration and healing, and hearing it, they rejected it, and when they heard that God’s mercy would be withheld from them in the hardness of their hearts, but that those they found contemptible would find God’s love and healing, they drove him out of town to a place where they planned to kill him.
Bishop Budde is in good company, is she not? She made her plea, that those who are scared would find mercy in their plight, and for it she has received death threats and calls for her resignation and to take back her nasty words. After all, Jesus’ message so disturbed those in power that in due time they executed him for it, rejected by the Jewish rulers and condemned to death by the Romans.
It also reminds me of a phrase spoken on more than a few occasions by a man who was a member of my previous parish. Ed would, on occasion, say that the point of the Gospel is to comfort the uncomfortable and to upset those who are comfortable. To comfort the uncomfortable, and to upset the comfortable. If the Gospel is doing its work, it’ll do those things. The lowly and the outcast will be raised up and brought in, the proud and the arrogant will be pulled down and cast out.
When the people around Jesus begin to question how it is that Jesus, whom they know and whose family they know, could say these things, he replies that in the times of the prophets it was on occasion the Gentiles that experienced God’s blessings, not the people of Israel, and not the children of the covenants. It wasn’t simply being part of Israel that led to God’s favor, but it was those who responded in faith, regardless of who they were. Sometimes, even the outsider and the contemptible were the ones who experienced the kindness and mercy of God. Because, as it turns out, they were only outsiders and contemptible to those who thought they were insiders. In reality, they were loved by God and found favor from the Lord, and thus healing and restoration.
The surprise we find in Jesus is that God’s love and mercy extend much further than we assumed God was capable of. While we thought we had an understanding of God pinned down, God surprised us with the expansiveness of divine love.
That’s been my experience. I was raised to believe that God’s mercy was conditional, and was limited to the insiders and those who came in through the front door. As it turns out, though, God not only loves those who came in through the back door, he also loves those who came in through the window, and those who are still outside.
And that is why our call as those walking in the way of Jesus to bring healing and restoration to the world extends beyond these walls – because the love of God extends to those who are beyond these walls. Just as I have been created in the divine image, so have you, and so have everyone else out there. And that’s why God’s spirit in us is calling us to love them as well. And to be merciful to them, and to show extraordinary loving-kindness.
Not “a lot of love, or a lot of kindness,” but an extra-ordinary love, and extra-ordinary kindness. One greater than that which is ordinary, that which was modeled to us in Jesus, who gave his entire life for us, even life itself.
So with you, my friends in Christ, may we find the Gospel to be a comfort to us in our time of need, and a challenge when we are in need of correction. May we show extraordinary love and kindness to all, especially in their hour of need. And may we be a community in which there is room for all who make up the various parts of this family of God.
Epiphany 2C, 1/19/2025: We are now in the second week of Epiphany, the church season between Christmastide and Lent that focuses on the beginnings of Jesus’ ministry. It is about Jesus being revealed to the world, of being made manifest to the people.
And today, we have the miracle at the Wedding at Cana, of Jesus turning water into wine.
The Gospel authors are masters of subtlety. They are not known to drive the point home, but instead to leave things understated for the reader to work out or discover. This is especially true of John’s Gospel, and today’s reading is no exception.
Likewise, it is sometimes, if not typically, the case with a biblical text that one can draw multiple points from it that we can learn from and which shape our understanding of our faith. This is again the case with our Gospel reading for today. There are a number of points or sub-points we can draw from this passage, many of which I think distract us from perhaps the main point. So let’s see how that goes now with this story of “The Wedding at Cana.”
Here we have Jesus, going to a wedding in a town called Cana in Galilee, where Nathaniel, the disciple of Jesus, was from, and not that far from Nazareth where Jesus grew up, and not far from Capernaum, where he essentially made his home and his base for his ministry. And not only is Jesus there, but so are Mary, his mother, as well as his disciples. And a few main, obvious themes or motifs going on here include: That he is at a wedding, his reticence to get involved, and his eventual miraculous “sign” of turning water into wine.
The actions and the drama here have led people to draw several conclusions. One such conclusion that is that Jesus’ intention is to affirm the institution of marriage. That he is blessing this marriage by his presence, and by supporting the festivities by supplying more wine. And thus, by extension, Jesus continues to be present at Christian weddings and blesses Christian marriages to this day. That is true, and one potentially valid takeaway from this reading, but there’s more.
I mean, it’s John’s Gospel, there’s always more to it than that.
Before moving on, interestingly, there is a tradition that Thomas Aquinas promoted, that the groom was the author of the Gospel according to John – a tradition that goes back to the Venerable Bede himself! So Thomas Aquinas was taking from our very own Bede for this tradition.
That’s all.
There’s also the interaction with Jesus’ mother. She finds out that the big wedding celebration, one which would last for days, has run out of wine. That’s a disaster in the making. It would be an embarrassment to the couple and their families to run out of wine at a celebration of this magnitude. It may even be the case that they are relatives of Mary and Jesus which prompts her to want to help. So Mary goes to her son, Jesus, and asks him if he can do anything about this. Apparently, she realizes that her son has the authority and the power, from God, to be able to do something in these circumstances. She thinks he can help, which makes one wonder why she thinks he can do anything at all. But even though he appears to blow her off she tells the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.” It shows Mary to be a model of faith, a role model for the church. Would that we all had the faith of Mary to say about Jesus, “Do whatever he tells you.” The story presents Mary in a subtle but magnificent light.
Next, the miracle itself. Jesus tells the servants to pour water into some jugs. It was a great deal of water, and–poof!–wine! So Jesus turns water into wine, and, there you go, no more wine shortage. What we see is that Jesus clearly has power from heaven to do this mighty miracle. No one else could do this. Jesus is at least, minimum, a prophet sent by God, suddenly made manifest to those who knew what had happened, that Jesus had turned water into wine.
But there’s one almost insignificant detail to this story that is missing from all of what we’ve already discussed. Which makes sense for John’s Gospel, that there is a deeper meaning at play which is found in the small details of the story, in the subtle clues and seemingly needless little detail. And here is it: John writes, “Now there were six stone water jars there for the Jewish rites of purification, each holding twenty or thirty gallons.
And the fact that this made 150 gallons of wine is only incidental to the point here:
He says that these are six stone water jars used “for the Jewish rites of purification.” Now, he didn’t need to mention that, but he does. The jars to be filled with wine are water jars for Jewish rites of purification.
The Jewish people had various self-ablutions, various washings, to render themselves ritually clean and to get rid of certain types of uncleanness. We read elsewhere in the gospels, that the Jews, the Pharisees, would have particular washings–hand-washing, for instance–to make themselves clean. Thus the presence of these six stone jars for ritual purification.
It will be helpful to remind ourselves of two other places in Scripture where wine is a significant part of the story.
The first is a parable about putting new wine into old wineskins. In response to a question about why John the Baptist’s disciples fast while Jesus’ disciples eat and drink, Jesus replies that while he is present here, in this life, it is like a wedding banquet. And furthermore, he told a parable that that no one puts new wine into old wineskins, because the old wineskins have become brittle with age and will break if unfermented wine were put into them.
In this parable, wine is a metaphor for the teachings and the traditions of the Pharisees compared to the life-giving teachings that Jesus was sharing with those who would listen to him. This new wine symbolizes the good news that Jesus preached and the life that he came to give. Wine is a symbol of Jesus’ ministry and the works and teachings that he brought.
The second notable role of wine in the story is as one of the central elements of the final meal that he shared with his disciples, when he took the cup, blessed it, and shared it with his disciples saying, “Drink this, all of you: This is my Blood of the new Covenant, which is shed for you and for many for the forgiveness of sins. Whenever you drink it, do this in remembrance of me.”
Now here we have wine as a symbol and sacrament of the blood of Christ, and the life that was given in order to bring peace between God and humanity, healing the rift that existed between us and God.
Thus we see, that when Jesus turned water into wine inside these jars that were used for purification, we see more fully what’s going on in the background here. That the death and resurrection of Christ is for our purification from evil and from sin. That so early on in Jesus’ ministry, that his first miracle and sign in John’s Gospel, is telling us not only that Jesus has been given power by God to do such things, but that it prefigures and points us forward to a greater reality, that Jesus has come to bring our purification, our sanctification, our being made whole again, through the power of God and through the life of Jesus Christ.
And with this cleansing, this forgiveness, this purification that only Jesus can provide, what is the result? The answer: Life. And joy. And celebration. Think of it. Where do life and joy and celebration all come together as beautifully in human experience as at a wedding. Here are two lives joined into one. Alongside the birth of a child, it’s about the most joyous kind of celebration we have in our experience. It’s a great party. There is wine to gladden the heart. And in Jesus’ time, the joy and the feasting and the celebrating went on for days. It’s no wonder that Jesus so often in his teaching compares the kingdom of heaven to a wedding feast, a wedding banquet, where humanity and the diving are brought together as one, and where joy and celebration abound at the union.
To together with you, my friends in Christ, may we be filled with joy and celebration at the redemption which God made manifest in Jesus’ life and teaching. May we be amazed at the power of God, even in the subtle ways that it comes to our lives. And may we be made pure through sharing in the cup which Jesus poured out for us in his death and resurrection.
Advent 4C, 2/22/2024: When preparing the sermon for our worship together, I most often take inspiration from our Gospel reading. Occasionally I’ll focus on the first or second readings, and on quite rare occasion I’ll look at the psalm for inspiration. And even less than that, the collect of the day.
Which I am doing today: “Purify our conscience, Almighty God, by your daily visitation, that your Son Jesus Christ, at his coming, may find in us a mansion prepared for himself; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.”
As we’ve discussed, here and in SoulWork between the services, Advent is a time of anticipation. Originally to anticipate Jesus’ glorious return at the end of the age, what is called in theological terms the “second coming.” We heard readings that reflect this original focus the first Sunday of Advent, that Jesus will come again in glory to judge the living and the dead. Then, our focus has turned to his birth, which we heard first in the birth and ministry of John the Baptist, who was a prophet called by God to prepare the way for the ministry of Jesus. And now, finally, we hear of the imminent birth of Jesus, when his mother Mary goes to visit her relative Elisabeth, who was John the Baptist’s mother.
So we have Jesus’ first coming in his birth in Bethlehem, and we have Jesus’ second coming in his return in glory. But hear the words of St. Bernard of Clairvaux’s Advent Sermon #5:
“Advent prepares not just for the first coming of Christ to Israel, or even the second at the end of time. There is a third coming between these two in which Jesus comes in spirit and power for our rest and consolation.
“We know that there are three comings of the Lord. The third lies between the other two. It is invisible, while the other two are visible.
“In the first coming he was seen on earth, dwelling among men; he himself testifies that they saw him and hated him. In the final coming all flesh will see the salvation of our God, and they will look on him whom they pierced. The intermediate coming is a hidden one; in it only the elect see the Lord within their own selves, and they are saved. In his first coming our Lord came in our flesh and in our weakness; in this middle coming he comes in spirit and in power; in the final coming he will be seen in glory and majesty.”
This is the daily visitation of our God to us that we remember in our collect for this, the 4th Sunday of Advent. Not his first appearance in human flesh, and not his final appearance coming on the clouds in glory, but quietly, in spirit, in our very midst, this very day. As St. Bernard goes on to say, “Because this coming lies between the other two, it is like a road on which we travel from the first coming to the last.”
In the first coming of Christ, he made us holy as he took on human flesh, took on matter into his being, and made the creation holy. By becoming human, Jesus made all that he touched holy, and his work of making the creation good spread out from there like a shockwave from an earthquake. In the Second Coming, we look to the final act of redemption for all creation and making all righteous as well. Not all have submitted to the goodness to which Jesus called us in his life and ministry, and we long for the day that God will make this work complete and all the world will live in kindness, compassion, and concern for others.
And today, we are on that path from the first coming to the final, encountering Christ everywhere he is present with us in our work, connections, and relationships. This is where we join in the work that God continues to do to bring about good in the world.
This, then, connects to the words attributed to Mary in the poem we call the Magnificat, as in “my soul magnifies the Lord” from the first verse, which we read as part of our Gospel.
It is a song of the repercussions in this life of the work of God in sending Jesus to be born of Mary. It’s the reality of what we see as we walk the path between the first coming and the final one at the end of the age:
God thwarts the plans and designs of the proud.
Brings down the powerful and raises up the lowly.
Provides for the hungry and brings down the rich.
Throughout these words, we see a bold proclamation of the mercy and might of God, who will turn the social order over in order to affirm and lift up the lowly—the humble, the powerless, the hungry—while the arrogant, powerful, and the rich will stand to lose greatly. Do you hear the echoes to Jesus’ later words: The first shall be last and the last shall be first?
But this is our God, revealed to us in the face of Jesus, who showed exceptional kindness and mercy to those who were suffering in this life, or who humbled themselves before God and the teachings of Jesus. These ones, like the tax collector praying in the temple, went away justified, while the others went away excluded from the blessings enjoyed by the others.
May that be a lesson to us, that as we enjoy the daily visitation of Christ in our lives, the daily Advent of Jesus to us, that we would learn from the words of Mary in this Gospel, and to appreciate the mercy of the mighty one to the humble, the lowly, and those in need.
Now, let’s not get too far ahead of ourselves, we’re still in Advent. We’re still in the time of anticipation, and even more so as Christmas and the Feast of the Nativity of Jesus approaches. And let’s not jump to celebration just yet, as we are still walking the path with Mary and Joseph to Bethlehem, where the baby is to be born and given the name Jesus, for God will save the people from their sins through him.
So together with you, my friends in Christ, may we discover God around us each and every day in the daily visitation of Christ to our world. May we look with longing expectation of the day when God will make all things right and bring true peace, joy, and love to our world. And may we with joy remember his first advent as we celebrate the day that Jesus the Christ was born to Mary and Joseph, announced by angels, and visited by shepherds.
In this morning’s readings of the Gospel, for this fourth and final Sunday in Advent, we come to the Visitation of Mary to her relative Elizabeth, both of whom are pregnant in remarkable ways. Elizabeth because she was older and had been unable to have a child until this point, when the angel appeared to her husband as he was serving in the temple. And to Mary, because she had not yet married Joseph, but was overshadowed by the Holy Spirit and conceived. And in this account of the meeting of the two, we read two remarkable things.
The first being that when Mary speaks, the baby that Elizabeth is carrying responds, as though there is something special about Mary and the baby that Mary is carrying. There is the mysterious acknowledgement, without yet receiving any news or indication as to what kind of child this will be, that there is something special going on here. And in response, Elizabeth proclaims that Mary has become blessed among women — of which Luke curiously uses a form of the word “Blessed” that is only used once, in this instance, of someone other than Jesus. There is something special going on here indeed.
If we can for a moment put aside our awareness of the rest of the story and imagine that we are hearing it for the first time, here’s the information that we have so far: That the angel appeared to Mary, a young woman engaged but not yet married to Joseph, and told her these words:
And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.
And I am fighting so hard right now to not go into a diatribe on the song, “Mary did you know?” Because, she didn’t, OK. That settles it.
But what does she hear? Essentially, that he will sit on the throne of his ancestor David, forever. Which doesn’t make a lot of sense if that’s all you’ve got to go with. No wonder Mary is said to have pondered these things in her heart.
She’s also told that her relative Elizabeth is now six-months pregnant. So she goes to Elizabeth, who greets her and tells her that when she spoke, her, Elizabeth’s baby, leapt in her womb.
It’s to this, and the proclamation of being blessed among women, and blessed is the baby inside her, that she responds in the words which we call the Magnificat — the name deriving from the Latin word for “magnifies,” the first word of her reply in Latin.
And in this, we see not a demurring Mary, as we often see in iconography, but a bold, confident, and even a defiant woman. Because in her words, we progress from her self-reflection of her poor estate and standing, her humility before God, to the great blessings which God has given her in this moment—and she hasn’t even given birth yet to this baby! She’s barely even pregnant at this point!
But look at the language she uses of the work that God is doing through her and this moment. In it we see a God who is strong and powerful, the Mighty One. A God who is merciful and has acted on Mary’s behalf and been good to her. And a God who upturns the social order, turning it on its head.
It’s to this that I want to turn, to what we see about the God who Mary has encountered, and who this God is that is doing this curious thing through her and the children that she and Elizabeth will raise.
Because we sang the magnificat in place of the Psalm, I want to reread it from the NRSV to you. It begins:
“My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior, for he has looked with favor on the lowliness of his servant. Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed; for the Mighty One has done great things for me, and holy is his name.
This praise that Mary gives to God is remarkable already, because there’s not much that has happened at this point, as we recounted moments ago. An angel appeared to her, telling her that she would become pregnant by the Holy Spirit, he will rule over Israel, and Elizabeth is pregnant. And from just THIS, Mary acknowledges that God has done great things for her. Little does she know what lies in store — because no, she didn’t know. Not at this point.
And yet, she has a remarkable thankfulness and humility before God — an attitude of gratitude — for the love of God shown to her by affirming her and inviting her to be part of this great work of salvation to come.
Following this, we see the remarkable works and priorities that se attributes to God:
His mercy is for those who fear him from generation to generation. He has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty. He has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, according to the promise he made to our ancestors, to Abraham and to his descendants forever.
Throughout these words, we see a bold proclamation of the mercy and might of God, who will turn the social order over in order to affirm and lift up the lowly—the humble, the powerless, the hungry—while the arrogant, powerful, and the rich will stand to lose greatly. Do you hear the echoes to Jesus’ later words: The first shall be last and the last shall be first?
But this is our God, revealed to us in the face of Jesus, who showed exceptional kindness and mercy to those who were suffering in this life, or who humbled themselves before God and the teachings of Jesus. These ones, like the tax collector praying in the temple, went away justified, while the others went away excluded from the blessings enjoyed by the others.
May that be a lesson to us, that as we enjoy the daily visitation of Christ in our lives, the daily Advent of Jesus to us, that we would learn from the words of Mary in this Gospel, and to appreciate the mercy of the mighty one to the humble, the lowly, and those in need.
Advent 3C, 12/15/2024: When it comes time to give the Gospel reading in our worship, there is a certain flair that I am to put into it. To make it dignified, but not pompous, and to try to give it a little more feeling in the reading without being dramatic about it.
Sometimes that means losing a great deal of the passion and energy behind the reading, flattening the scene of what’s really going on.
Imagine the setting for our reading this morning. John is out, presumably at the Jordan River somewhat east of Jerusalem, the center of Jewish spiritual and political life, and speaking to the crowds that have come out to be baptized. And in a loud voice, yells to the crowds.
Calls them a brood of vipers. Calls them out for their inaction at turning their hearts to God. Tells them to turn from their ways and to live out what it is that God has revealed to their ancestors about how to live lives that are holy and pleasing to God.
But there’s one particular phrase from our reading about John the Baptist that I want to focus on here. It’s the last sentence from our reading:
So, with many other exhortations, he proclaimed the good news to the people.
The Good News. In Greek that’s the word euangelion, and it’s the word that is translated as “Gospel.” Which has me back once again to reflecting on the meaning of the word Gospel. It’s a word that we banter around in a few different meanings. While it began as a simple, normal word in Greek speaking areas, and it could have meant anything that was considered to be good news, or good tidings.
Then, when the Christians picked it up, it began to take on special, particular meanings. First, it’s part of the titles that we give to the four books that give an account for the life of Jesus: The Gospel according to Luke, for instance. But it has more meaning than just that, as people have wanted to distill its meaning to a main point, that there is this thing that we call the Good News of God in Christ, the Gospel.
Growing up in an evangelical setting, it had a very definite meaning: That by believing in Jesus Christ your sins are forgiven and you go to heaven when you die and not to hell.
But I have for the longest time thought that there needed to be more to it than that–let alone the questions that come from the latter portion about eternal judgment and fire and brimstone.
Look at the way our reading handles it. John’s message was one of repentance, and yes, that there would be one to follow him whose message was superior to his, one whom he was not worthy to untie the sandals from off his feet. But I sincerely doubt that John knew all the particulars about the crucifixion and resurrection that Jesus was to undergo that this usage of Gospel from our reading this morning.
Logically, that can’t be what’s going on here, labeling John’s message as “the Gospel” and to have anything like that meaning.
So taking it in a broader sense, what might be meant by this Good News that John preached to the people as he baptized them in the Jordan River?
Might it be, that the Good News is that God loves you, and cares about you, and would do the unimaginable in order to come to our aid? To help us and to lather us with grace and mercy, acceptance and approval?
That it’s not just in the resurrection, but even in the message that Jesus brought, and that John brought, and all the prophets brought? Of pointing us to the magnificence of God and the love of God for us, and of all the ways that God has come to humanity? To seek out a relationship with us, first seen in the covenant made with Abraham and reaffirmed through Moses, in the calling of the prophets to try to draw the hearts of the people back to God? In the coming of the Son of God to be with us and to show us the way? In the sending of the Holy Spirit, to strengthen and to comfort us even today as we strive to be holy and faithful to the life to which we have been called as followers of Jesus? And finally as we await the day that God will make all things right, and make a full restoration of things, healing this world from the sin and pain and darkness that infect our souls?
THAT, to me, is truly Good News!
That is a message that inspires me. That God loves me, just as I am, with no hesitation because of my shortcomings or the things in my past, or even of those I still struggle against today. And that no matter how dark the night may be, there is always a light out there, reminding me that God has not abandoned me or left me to struggle on my own.
That’s a very Advent-y message, after all. No matter how dark the night may be, there is always a light out there, reminding us that God has not abandoned us or left us to struggle on our own.
In Jesus’ Day, it meant that God had not forgotten the promise to send a savior, someone whose way was anointed to come to the rescue of the people, who longed for God’s divine intervention into the world once again, as God had in the past to come to the rescue for their ancestors.
Today, it means that God is still and always with us, and whose power and love comes to us each day to break through the darkness and to bring goodness, love, healing and restoration to a world broken by sin, jealousy, envy, greed, and hate. To live charitably with your neighbor: As John said in our reading, “Whoever has two coats must share with anyone who has none; and whoever has food must do likewise.” And to be honest in our work: take the tax collectors and soldiers were told to not extort or abuse people in their work or their actions.
The result of it all: The people were willed with expectation, and wondered if John might have been the messiah, the one anointed by God to bring freedom to the people. To which John said he wasn’t, but that his work was to prepare the way for the one who is.
That no matter how dark the night may be, there is always a light out there, reminding us that God has not abandoned us or left us to struggle on our own.
That is Good News, not only for the life of the world to come, but for this life, today.
That also makes a turn of this thing we call repentance. That our turning from evil and darkness in our world is not so that we might go to heaven when we die, as some who follow Jesus emphasize so strongly, but our turning from darkness is because we seek to align our values with God’s values, because the fruit of repentence is love, joy, peace, kindness, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. Because the way of Jesus, the way that John prepared by calling the people to repentence, is the best possible way to live.
That’s the message that I want to explore with you this morning: “Repent, for the kingdom of heaven has come near.”
What does it mean to repent anyway? It’s a nebulous (strange) word, and a little slippery to try and define. We’re going to try it anyway! And to do so, we’re going to talk languages.
First point: You and I are English speakers and readers, translating a Greek account of a man who spoke Aramaic to people whose Scriptures were written in Hebrew. It makes sense, then, to look at what the Hebrew has to teach us.
There are two words in Hebrew to learn from. The first is schuv–literally to “turn away from.” For example, when the people of Israel made the golden calf, Moses pleads to God, “Turn from your fierce wrath; change your mind and do not bring disaster on your people.” In turning from, there is the sense of choosing to go a different way, to choose a different path, and of not continuing to do what you had been doing or intending to do.
Then there is another word, nacham, which adds the sense of regret into the conversation. Consider poor Job, who after seeing the power and magnificence of God, declared “therefore I despise myself, and repent in dust and ashes” for speaking of God in ways that did not honor the glory of the Lord. In nacham, there is more than simply turning away, but there is also the emotion of grief and sadness. We’ve now entered into the realm of the emotions, of the heart. It is now lo longer enough simply to stop, but there is an internal process of the feelings involved, and a sense of contrition involved at the acknowledgement of doing wrong.
The Greek version of the Hebrew Scriptures uses two words to translate these terms. The word used to translate schuv is typically strepho–to turn from. Seems fairly one-to-one here, schuv is to turn from, strepho is to turn from, or even to return, such as to return to the Lord after doing wrong.
Nacham, then, is usually translated with metanoeo–literally to change one’s mind. On the surface that seems a little bland. Change one’s mind. Repentance then becomes a little… heady. Cerebral. It’s all up here. But that’s not the meaning of the word nacham, which is an emotional process. Metanoeo by itself doesn’t carry that feeling, but the words that it translates from Hebrew to Greek do.
Why is this all important? Because John says… “Metano-ei-tay.”
And we might think the repentance John is calling for is good enough if we think differently, if we think differently. To change our mind. But if we use the lesson we learn from the Greek translation of the Hebrew Scriptures, we find that the call to repentance is much more than that. It is inner transformation. To feel the wrongness of what was done, and to commit to doing what is right instead. That we may become those trees that bear good fruit, whose lives bear out the goodness within one’s heart.
I’ve heard it said that most priests have one major theme that comes out in their preaching. That in time, the more you craft and deliver sermons, the more there seems to be one major theme that makes its way into the majority of sermons you preach. And I’d actually be more than a little curious to know what it is that you’ve seen and heard from me, but here’s what I’ve found–I talk a lot about “loving your neighbor as yourself”, about how we treat the people around us.
And if I were a betting man–which I’m not, because that would be sinful (wink wink)–but if I were, I would guess it’s because I came from a tradition within Christianity that didn’t know what to do about the importance of being a good person in this life. It was a tradition that emphasized the idea that we cannot earn God’s love or favor, that God loves us simply because God is loving and gracious, and became suspicious of good deeds as though you were trying to earn God’s love and affection, and therefore would nullify the concept of grace.
And for me, at this stage in life for me, perhaps I’m trying to make up for lost time, seeing the command to love one’s neighbor painted all throughout the Scriptures that we read together each week. Even here, when reading or hearing John say to those who came to him that the wheat will be gathered up together, and that the trees that bear good fruit will be spared from the ax, I hear in there echos back to the command to “Love the Lord our God with all our heart and mind and soul and strength, and to love our neighbor as ourselves.” And as we come together to worship God, that we would be encouraged to go out and be loving and kind to our fellow humanity around us.
So repent, for the Kingdom of Heaven has come near.
Advent 2C, 12/8/2024: In the story of the Bible, there is a significant gap in the records between the final writings of the Hebrew scriptures and the public ministry of Jesus in his lifetime. The last book of the Hebrew Scriptures, called the Tanak by Jews and what we commonly call the Old Testament, is Malachi. It was written to the Jewish people who had been defeated and exiled by Babylon and returned to their ancestral lands under the Persian Empire. And they returned to an occupied land, ruled by other nations and no longer free to rule themselves as they saw fit.
Malachi, sometimes known as the Italian prophet Ma-lee-chee, called upon the people to remember their God, to serve God with all their hearts, and to not forsake the covenant God made with the people. And in his call to the people to remain faithful, he describes a prophet that God will send to prepare the way for their salvation.
Thus closes the writings of the Old Testament, of the Hebrew Scriptures. Then you turn a few pages and we get the story of the life of Jesus.
In a few short pages, the world has changed considerably. But you won’t hear it from the authors of the Bible. Approximately 430 years have passed, from the writing of Malachi to the births of John the Baptist and of Jesus, with no mention of what has happened to get us to this point. It’s especially stark in Luke’s Gospel, where we hear of Roman Emperor Tiberius, Roman governor Pontius Pilate ruling Judea, brothers Herod and Philip who rule as governors over the provinces of Galilee and Itumea and Trachonitus, Lysanias ruler of Abilene, and Annas and Caiaphas ruling as chief priests.
To those reading these words, who inhabited this world, they did not need an explanation of what happened. Simply some names of notable people to anchor approximately when these events happened.
But what happened to get us here? And why is it important?
For those who joined us in SoulWork during the fall, you may already know where this is going.
In the years between the writing of Malachi and the birth of John the Baptist, which preceded Jesus by about 6 months, three major political shifts are important.
First, that the Persian Empire, which ruled over the land of Palestine at the time the book of Malachi was written, fell to the Greeks under Alexander the Great. Alexander defeated the nations north of Palestine, and the Jews and others around them capitulated to the Greeks. These Greek rulers sought to impose their culture, values, and language on those they conquered, including the Jews. They, however, we’re keen on losing their cultural identity to the Greeks, and after a period of oppression rose up against their Greek rulers and around 145 BC actually fought their way to freedom.
Civil war among the Jews later broke out, and in 63 BC some of the leaders of a party in the civil war reached out to Rome to help. General Pompey was happy to do so, claiming Palestine for Rome. It was definitely not the result that was sought by the Jews who wanted freedom, but found themselves occupied by another empire.
So when Jesus was born, it was the Romans who occupied the land. And it was for freedom from the Romans and a return to self-rule that many among the Jewish people longed for someone anointed by God to free the people from Roman rule to come to their aid. They longed for the redemption foretold by Malachi, that God would rescue the people, as the Lord had done for their ancestors when they were delivered from slavery in Egypt and led to the land promised to their forefather Abraham.
This is the messiah the people were waiting for: someone to free them from their oppressors so they would be free to live in the land.
And here’s the Good News for today:
God is listening, and God is sending a messenger to prepare the way for the coming salvation, and the advent of a messiah.
From the 40th chapter of Isaiah:
You who bring good news to Zion,
go up on a high mountain.
You who bring good news to Jerusalem,
lift up your voice with a shout,
lift it up, do not be afraid;
say to the towns of Judah,
“Here is your God!”
See, the Sovereign Lord comes with power,
and he rules with a mighty arm.
See, his reward is with him,
and his recompense accompanies him.
He tends his flock like a shepherd:
He gathers the lambs in his arms
and carries them close to his heart;
he gently leads those that have young.
God is listening, and God is sending a messenger to prepare the way for the coming salvation, and the advent of a messiah.
This is the message of the one who is to prepare us for the Day of the Lord’s coming: Here is your God.
John pointed the people to Jesus: What, in our lives, are we pointing people to?
So together with you, my friends in Christ, may we heed the prophet’s call to repentance. May we look to Jesus with longing expectation for our salvation. And may we be prepared when the advent of our savior comes, appearing in our midst.