Homily for Sunday, May 26, 2013

The Trinity: A Unity of Love

Lessons:

Psalm 8

Proverbs 8: 1-4, 22-31

Romans 5: 1-5

John 16:12-15

Since we’ve last met, the Easter season has ended and the season of Pentecost has begun.  As the time approached for his death and departure, Jesus tried to prepare his disciples for the difficulties that lay ahead, and he told them he would not leave them alone, that he would send an Advocate to be with them always. This Advocate he called “the Spirit of Truth,” or as we have come to know the Advocate, the indwelling Holy Spirit. Jesus in fact tells the disciples that he has to leave in order for the Advocate—the Spirit—to come to his followers.

On the fiftieth day of Easter, May 9^th, we celebrated the Ascension—when the resurrected and risen Christ, having appeared to his disciples and continued his ministry among them, finally leaves the earth—the human realm—and rises to heaven as the astonished disciples watch. 

Last Sunday, May 19^th, was Pentecost Sunday, when the church officially celebrates the arrival of the Advocate.  The Spirit falls as tongues of fire on the disciples, and they are able to speak in all the languages of those who hear them. As Christ had foretold, in this way the followers of Jesus, strengthened and guided by the Advocate (the Holy Spirit) were able to spread the Good News throughout the world.  A salvation that the Hebrew people, the chosen children of God, originally believed would only be offered to them became available to all tribes of people.  We worship here today in Graves Mill because our ancestors were beneficiaries of that spreading word, just as the prophet Isaiah had foretold: “It is too small a thing that you should be my servant to raise up the tribes of Jacob and to restore the survivors of Israel; I will give you as a light to the nations so that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth.” The Spirit entered the disciples, and the light of the salvation of Jesus Christ made it all the way to this end of the earth!

Now we have arrived at Trinity Sunday, which, as we say, celebrates “God in three persons, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.” Since it is difficult for us to grasp an intelligent, communicative being who is not human, we attribute personhood to God.  I think that attribution, considering God to be some extremely smart person, may be the source of our common confusion about the Trinity. God is God, far beyond any human’s ability to comprehend or explain, and as such, is ultimately a mystery to us. Dividing the powers of God among three persons has been our human way of deciphering the mystery.

Even as we continue with a discussion of the Trinity, it will be good to remember that we are simply using the tools available to us—human words and human characteristics—to bring God to our level of comprehension. God, thankfully, is willing to meet us there.

I heard of a child once, who in that wonderful way children have of cutting straight to the heart of a matter, explained the Trinity to his Sunday school teacher. She had been attempting to explain the concept of the three persons to the class, when this little boy said: “Oh, I think I see. It’s sort of like the way my mom is my mother, but she is a daughter to Grandma and a sister to Uncle Roy.”  One God, but different roles, depending on the situation—that’s a simple way to look at it. St. Patrick, who famously used a three-leaved shamrock to explain the concept of a three-in-one God, emphasized that the Trinity is a Unity of love.  What holds the three aspects of God together and plants God within each of us is love. A simple Irish invocation illustrates the function of love in the Trinity in this way:  “O Father who sought me, O Son who bought me, O Holy Spirit who taught me…”

By all means necessary, the eternal God ever seeks us and calls us home.

Amen!

Homily for Sunday, April 28, 2013

 The Disciple’s Way                                                                           Graves Chapel                              

The Collect for the 5^th Sunday of Easter

 Almighty God, whom truly to know is everlasting life: Grant us so perfectly to know your Son Jesus Christ to be the way, the truth, and the life, that we may steadfastly follow his steps in the way that leads to eternal life; through Jesus Christ your Son our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

The Gospel for today:

John 13:31-35

At the last supper, when Judas had gone out, Jesus said, "Now the Son of Man has been glorified, and God has been glorified in him. If God has been glorified in him, God will also glorify him in himself and will glorify him at once. Little children, I am with you only a little longer. You will look for me; and as I said to the Jews so now I say to you, 'Where I am going, you cannot come.' I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another."

Our nation has now suffered another dreadful terrorist attack, this time perpetrated by young men who were both home-grown and Islamic extremists.  We ask why and how this could happen, and there are no good answers. We wonder how any religion could condone the murder and mutilation of innocent people, including young children.  Our government will respond to this event as it must. But how do we respond? How can we process yet another national tragedy?

It is worth remembering at such a time that the three great world religions of Middle Eastern origin all trace their roots to the city of Jerusalem and, in essence, all worship one God. On that most basic level, Christians, Jews, and Muslims are blood relatives.  As Christians, we know we share our faith history with Jews; our Old Testament is Hebrew scripture and contains the law, history and literature of the Jewish people. Jesus himself was a Jew, and the first Christians were all Jews who came to believe that Jesus was the long-awaited Messiah, the Saviour of His people.

So how do Muslims fit into this family history?  The Father of the Hebrew people was Abraham, and we remember that Abraham proved his faithful obedience to God when he nearly sacrificed his only son Isaac.  As you recall, God intervened and stayed Abraham’s hand, providing a ram instead for the sacrifice. Isaac would go on to be the father of Jacob and Esau, and through Jacob, renamed Israel, the entire genealogy of the Jews is traced. 

But think again. Isaac was not Abraham’s only son, although it can be said he was Abraham’s only legitimate son. When Sarah, Abraham’s aging wife, believed she would not be able to bear a son for her husband, she gave her servant woman Hagar to her husband, who fathered Ishmael with her.  According to Genesis, Ishmael was about thirteen years old and beloved by his father Abraham when Sarah finally gave birth to Isaac.  Jealous of Ishmael’s relationship with his father, Sarah insisted that Isaac had to be designated the only rightful and legitimate heir of Abraham. Sarah demanded that Hagar and Ishmael be sent away.  And Abraham did indeed send them out into the desert, where an angel intervened and saved their lives, telling Hagar, “Do not be afraid, for God has heard the voice of the boy where he is. Come, lift up the boy and hold him fast with your hand, for I will make a great nation of him.”  Those verses are from Genesis 21:17-18. There it is, in Hebrew scripture, the place where God sends an angel to say that a great nation of people would descend from Ishmael. Arab Muslims would tell you that they are that great nation. They consider Ishmael to be the direct ancestor of the Prophet Muhammed.

There is a long history of reasons why these members of the same family—Jews, Christians, and Muslims—have often become alienated from one another.  I won’t go into that sad history now. It is also equally true that there are many places in the world where people of the three faiths live in peaceful harmony. As with the Boston Marathon bombing, it is usually the extremists of any one of these religions who want to impose their version of their faith on everyone around them.

That is as true of Christians as it is of Muslims. Adolph Hitler called himself a Christian when he massacred 6 million Jews in the Holocaust.  The Rev. Fred Phelps of the Westboro Baptist Church persecutes his fellow Americans, among them many Christians, when he brings members of his church to picket funerals. Rev. Phelps even planned to picket funerals of the children killed in December’s Sandy Hook school shooting. He calls himself a Christian pastor? He is a religious extremist. His way of hateful vengeance is not the Lord’s way.

In 1993, the Oslo Peace Accords were signed, a milestone agreement between the Jews and the Palestinians paving the way for potential peace in the troubled state of Israel.  Yitzhak Rabin of Israel and Yasser Arafat shook hands on the agreement, and the two men were awarded the Nobel Prize for Peace in 1994.  There was hope at last for Jews and Muslim Palestinians to broker a peaceful settlement of their long conflict. Then, in 1995, before the peace could be finalized, a radical Jewish extremist who opposed the Oslo accord assassinated Rabin. 

As Christians, if we but look at the words of the founder of our faith, Jesus Christ, we will see that the way of hatred and violence, the way of extremists, is not His way. Nor did Christ ever suggest that we respond to such hatred in kind.  He told us to love our enemies and to turn the other cheek.  Jesus, as we are reminded in today’s collect, called himself “the way, the truth, and the life.”  The way of Jesus is fundamentally the way of love, mercy, and forgiveness. In a world beset by war and cruelty, by terrorist attacks, that way may seem to be a difficult way. (Boy, is it hard to turn the other cheek!)  Sometimes it can be difficult to love our own family members, but love them we must.  We may certainly find it impossible to love the young men who perpetrated the bombings in Boston, but we can work at holding back our hatred of them and of Muslims in general. Their extreme position in no way represents all American Muslims. If nothing else, we can begin the healing between Christians and Muslims by working toward better mutual understanding.

As we strive to live in love, as Christ loved us, it is important to remember that His is not a way of weakness. Turning the other cheek takes great courage, and God’s immense power is best demonstrated in love.  As Jesus prepared his disciples for his imminent death, he said, “I give you a new commandment, that you love one another. Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another.” 

We demonstrate to a troubled world that we are true disciples of Jesus Christ in this one way: by our love.

AMEN.

Homily for the Easter Vigil, March 30, 2013 Graves Chapel

Tonight, in the Old Testament stories about God’s rescuing of the Israelite people, how Moses led them out of Egypt, we see a God who goes to great lengths to demonstrate his abiding love to his people. The same God who sent Moses to rescue the Israelites from slavery in Egypt sent his Son into the world to save all people through the power of love.

In St. John’s gospel, in Chapter 12, Jesus enters Jerusalem for the last time, riding a borrowed donkey.  Palm Sunday is the commemoration of that triumphal entry, when the people thronged the streets to see the great teacher, shouting “Hosanna!” His followers must have exulted at the prospect that their beloved Lord would finally take the reins of political leadership, but that was not what Jesus—or the Father--had in mind.  Later that day, Jesus says to his disciples, “Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.”  Jesus explains the necessity of his approaching death.  His disciples, who refused to believe he would die, didn’t get it. 

Like the disciples, we may not fully understand or accept why every human life, at some time or another, endures the darkness of pain, suffering, fear, or grief, but we know such agony is unavoidable. Now, two millennia after the life of the carpenter from Nazareth, maybe we can agree that what Jesus said about his death bearing fruit was extraordinarily accurate: Today, according to the Pew Research Center, there are 2 BILLION, 180 MILLION Christians in the world. Why are so many still attracted to the Christian way?

In the name of radical love, Jesus died a cruel death so that his followers would have assurance that death is not the final human reality.  Christ’s resurrection promises the ultimate salvation. His beloved followers, even the majority who were not present with Him near the cross, had their fears and doubts removed by their encounters with the resurrected Jesus. Thanks to Mary Magdalene and the other women who first saw the risen Lord, the disciples were called into action and founded the early church. They finally understood the power of Christ’s love to bear fruit. The church rests on a love that denies the self for the greater good of others.

 The words LOVE and CHURCH both imply community. It takes at least two people—the one who loves and the beloved—for love to happen. Church is a fellowship of Christians, and the church universal is one very large family. The church is called the “bride of Christ” to suggest the ideal closeness borne of Christian love.  Father Edmond Browning, former Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church, has this to say about community: “There is nothing more important than community. We are in community from the moment of conception, dependent upon our mother, our bodies sustained by her heartbeat. The mysterious doctrine of the Trinity is really all about this fact: Even God has never been alone. The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, that incomprehensible three–in-one that has always been and will always be—God is a relationship.”  Isn’t that a wonderful thing to ponder?

This Holy Week I’ve been especially conscious of Jesus as a member of that special kind of relationship we call a family. March 25^th is always celebrated in the church as Annunciation Day, the day when the angel appeared to Mary and told her that she would bear the son of God.  This year, Annunciation Day fell on the Monday of Holy Week, and it was a good reminder of how Mary was with her son from beginning to end.  From Bethlehem to Golgotha, Mary was a constant in Jesus’s life. She was one of the few gathered beneath the cross.  We can only try to imagine how much pain she suffered watching her son die in that terrible way. Let’s go a step further and try to imagine God’s anguish over the pain his son endured.  As did Jesus, God knew this pain was necessary and would bear fruit.  Knowing that didn’t make it less painful.

So here we are at last to the fulfillment of the promise: Easter morning is upon us, and the Lord Jesus will rise to new life. Jesus’s experience on the cross, his entering into the darkness of death, is the revelation of God’s covenant with us. God KNOWS how much we hurt, and God chooses to be with us, to comfort us, in all our suffering. That Trinity, which Bishop Browning called a relationship?  We are invited to join it.  In fact, we are already members of the body of Christ whether we choose to be or not.  The promise of eternal love is always extended in our direction, in this life and the next. That is why when we turn our hearts toward God, we find God, Jesus, and the Holy Spirit already there, awaiting us. Maybe they are saying, “What took you so long?”

Allelujah! Amen.

Homily for Good Friday, March 29, 2013

Shall We Follow?

Today, Good Friday, is Ground Zero of the church year. On this day the Alpha and the Omega are revealed to us, the pinnacle of divine love and the depth of utter despair.  When the Son of God entered the city of Jerusalem along palm-strewn streets, he knew where his journey was taking him, although none of his disciples knew, or even wanted to know. The Holy Prince astride a donkey said of himself, “I am the way, the truth, and the life.”  Yet the way that Jesus took, amid the sounds of loud hosannas, was the way toward silence, darkness, and the tomb. As his followers, we are asked to join him on his way. Shall we?

This way is a way of pain—immense pain and suffering.

The Roman soldiers flog Jesus.

They place a crown of thorns on his head,

implanting it so deeply that blood streams down his face.

They take his hands roughly in their own, pressing each hand against the jagged wood of the cross. 

The blows of the hammer reverberate as the nails

penetrate his palms.

Then, they nail each of his feet to the cross.

Hoisting it above Golgotha, the soldiers ram the cross into the hard earth.

Helpless to support his own weight,

the torso of Jesus slumps forward.

In this position, it becomes very hard for him to breathe.

The longer he hangs there, the harder it becomes.

Beneath the cross, a few of his loved ones—very few—are gathered. 

Knowing they suffer to see him on the cross,

his suffering is increased.

This way is a way of betrayal and abandonment.

Jesus sees his aunt, his mother, Mary Magdalene,

and his beloved disciple John in the crowd.

But where are the others?

Judas had betrayed him, as Jesus had predicted.

In his anger over Jesus’s arrest,

Peter cut off the ear of the high priest’s slave.

Yet, Peter betrayed him, too, and is nowhere to be seen.

As he moves closer to the predetermined end,

Jesus believes himself to be completely abandoned.

St. Matthew tells us that he says, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”

This way is a way of utter loneliness and isolation.

The handful of beloved witnesses weeping beneath the cross

cannot accompany Jesus into his death.

The human Jesus, a man alone, is now revealed in his mortality.

“It is finished,” he says.

A man’s broken, bloodied, and pierced body, lifeless and limp,

is lowered to the ground below.

The way of Jesus is a way that relinquishes all attachments.

In his willing acceptance of the cross, Jesus let go of everything.

He surrendered the things he loved.

From the cross, he gives the care of his mother to John, saying

“Woman, here is your son.”

Yes, this is a statement of love for both of them.

But what pain did it cost Jesus to leave his beloved behind?

This way is a way of deep darkness, fully entered.

And then, there is the tomb itself.

Joseph of Arimathea lays Jesus gently in a nearby tomb,

a cave hewn into earth and rock, a place both cold and damp.

Sealed shut by an immense stone, the cave is inescapable.

And dark. Very dark.

As we follow the way of the cross with Jesus, let us remember that He experienced the utter darkness of the tomb because darkness is part of every human life.  Darkness, of one kind or another, is unavoidable.  The intertwining of human lives  renders both great joy and great sorrow.

Richard Rohr, Franciscan priest and author of the book Everything Belongs explains the crucifixion in this way:

“The cross is not the price that Jesus had to pay to talk God into loving us. It is simply where love will lead us. Jesus names the agenda. If we love, if we give ourselves to feel the pain of the world, it will crucify us.”  

Again:

“The cross is not the price that Jesus had to pay to talk God into loving us. It is simply where love will lead us. Jesus names the agenda. If we love, if we give ourselves to feel the pain of the world, it will crucify us.”

As he took leave of his disciples at the Last Supper, Jesus commanded them, “Just as I have loved you, you also should love one another.” Jesus tells us love is required. He shows us love is worth the pain it causes.

Amen.

Homily for Sunday, February 24, 2013

Jesus: Mother Hen

Today’s Lesson: Luke 13:31-35

Some Pharisees came and said to Jesus, "Get away from here, for Herod wants to kill you." He said to them, "Go and tell that fox for me, 'Listen, I am casting out demons and performing cures today and tomorrow, and on the third day I finish my work. Yet today, tomorrow, and the next day I must be on my way, because it is impossible for a prophet to be killed outside of Jerusalem.' Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing! See, your house is left to you. And I tell you, you will not see me until the time comes when you say, 'Blessed is the one who comes in the name of the Lord.'"

In today’s passage from Luke, Jesus calls Herod a fox and compares himself to a mother hen. Instead of his usual parables, it seems that he is about to tell a fable. If Herod is a fox, then who would expect a chicken to survive in a contest between the two creatures? Yet Jesus suggests that the hen will be triumphant.

My dear aunt, Mabel Estes, who, like my mother, was born just down the road at the Estes homeplace, was a first grade teacher, avid gardener, and amateur bird watcher.  Many of my most significant childhood memories center around Aunt Mabel, with whom I spent much of every summer at the farm. From Mabel I learned many things about the natural world.  There was an extensive garden at the farm in those days, including lovely flower beds and all of the customary vegetables (potatoes, tomatoes, beans, and corn) as well as strawberries, rhubarb, asparagus, and even a patch of bamboo for the would-be fisherman. I was Aunt Mabel’s gardening assistant, and I remember her teaching me how to pick strawberries (very carefully!) and arrange flowers.

When I was seven years old, Mabel gave me an illustrated book of birds and began teaching me the names of the common ones that were then plentiful here in the valley.  The first bird I learned to identify was the catbird, a sort of plain little gray bird, but with its “meow” and little black cap, it was easily distinguishable from its cousin, the mockingbird.  Knowing the birds by name opened a new window on our world for me. I loved to hear the bobwhites calling in the sunny summer fields. At night, the whippoorwills’ shrill cries echoed from the mountainside. One summer, a wild mama turkey and her brood made a regular trek past our kitchen window every morning.

I still love watching and listening to birds, a great pleasure I owe to Aunt Mabel. Considered by some to be the only surviving dinosaurs, birds are remarkable in so many ways—most notably, in their gifts of feathers, flight, and song.

All those things considered, it seems both surprising and wonderful that of all the birds Jesus could have compared himself to, as he does in today’s lesson from Luke, Jesus chose an ordinary chicken. Not just a chicken, but a mother hen!

The chickens of my childhood were so plain and everyday, smelly and underfoot, that it was hard not to take them for granted, as we do today. They had to be fed and tended; every now and then you’d see one running around without its head.  I’m not sure I even thought of them as being in the same species as the beautiful redwing blackbirds or the soaring hawks.  I believe that’s exactly the point Jesus is making.

Chickens were first domesticated by humans some 2000 years before the birth of Jesus. No other bird is as present in the lives of humans as is the chicken, and in his teachings, Jesus reminds his followers that He, in the form of the Advocate (or Holy Spirit) will be ever present with them. Knowing how we humans take God for granted and turn our backs on him, even in our need for him, Jesus cries out to Jerusalem, “How often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood under her wings, and you were not willing!”

 Surely in saying this, Jesus is making reference to the many psalms that include verses about God sheltering humans in the shadow of his wings. Most of those verses seem to imply a big strong bird of prey, such as an eagle, capable of defending us from all enemies. Here Jesus is telling us something very different about the power of God’s love to protect us: God is maternal and, like any mother, God will shelter and save us, even at great cost to himself.  As we know, Jesus paid such a cost in his duel of wits with Herod, and yet, Jesus (the mother hen) has the final word through his resurrection.

Today, our Lord continues to offer us the shelter of his wings. If we listen, we may hear God clucking over us! 

Amen.

Homily for January 27, 2013

Fulfilling the Law With Love

Lessons:

Nehemiah 8: 1-3, 5-6, 8-10

Psalm 19

1 Corinthians 12: 12-31a

Luke 4: 14-21

The Collect:

Give us grace, O Lord, to answer readily the call of our Savior Jesus Christ and proclaim to all people the Good News of his salvation, that we and the whole world may perceive the glory of his marvelous works; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

“Give us grace, O Lord, to answer readily the call.”  What is it exactly the Church and we Christians are called to do?  How are we supposed to proclaim the Good News?  I believe we proclaim it best by living it. Jesus told his disciples they would be known by their love, and we are called to love one another and to love our neighbors as ourselves. Today’s world, however, often seems to be sorely lacking in love. According to a survey conducted recently by Duke University, one in four Americans cannot name even one person they consider a close friend or confidante. How can that be? Surely there aren’t that many lonely people all around us.

Andi Tillmann, a young woman who works for the Diocesan development program, shared that information with us last Sunday at Buck Mountain Church. She says she is haunted by the statistic: one in four Americans believes himself or herself to be friendless. She also said that what churches have to offer a lonely world is community.

“Just as the body is one and has many members, and all the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ. For in the one Spirit we were all baptized into one body--Jews or Greeks, slaves or free...” Isn’t this Saint Paul’s way of saying “It takes a village”? A true Christian community welcomes everyone because we understand that each of us has something to offer, that each of us is necessary to complete the whole.  We know that we need one another. We understand that we, as the body of Christ in the world, are placed here to do the work of the Lord. We also seem to require some rules to live by, insurance that we will treat one another with respect and consideration.

Psalm 19 includes these verses about God’s law:

The law of the LORD is perfect
and revives the soul; *
the testimony of the LORD is sure
and gives wisdom to the innocent.

8

The statutes of the LORD are just
and rejoice the heart; *
the commandment of the LORD is clear
and gives light to the eyes.

In giving humans laws to live by, our spiritual ancestors believed God made it possible for them to live peaceful, prosperous, and productive lives in community with one another. The law lays a foundation for what we have come to know as civilized life, and in the Old Testament, we see a people chosen by God and led by the law-giver Moses as they are transformed from nomadic primitives to founders of the great city of Jerusalem.  David, the first king to reign in that city, penned the words of Psalm 19 in praise of the mercy in God’s law.

            In today’s lesson from the Book of Nehemiah, the priest Ezra is asked to read the book of the law before the assembled people.  This is the context of the situation: Nehemiah has returned to Jerusalem, along with many of the people who had been in exile. Having served as an official in the court of the Persian emperor who liberated the Israelites from Babylonian captivity, Nehemiah convinced the emperor to send him to Jerusalem to rebuild the walls and reestablish God’s law in the city. Moved by Nehemiah’s story of his homeland, the emperor names him governor of Judea and sends him with an escort and funding for his mission.  At the point when the priest Ezra stands before the people to read the law, the wall has been rebuilt and the people have been reunited under Nehemiah’s leadership. Having lived through captivity and exile (and for those who had remained in Judea, rebellion and chaos), it is not surprising that the people weep to hear these words that remind them they are the children of a just, merciful, and loving God.

In today’s gospel lesson from Luke, David’s descendent Jesus returns to Nazareth, to the village he called home, where he goes to the synagogue on the Sabbath.  He stands to read from the scroll he is handed, and these prophetic words of Isaiah are the ones he shares:

"The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,

because he has anointed me

to bring good news to the poor.

He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives

and recovery of sight to the blind,

to let the oppressed go free,

to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor."

If he had just read these words and taken his seat again, it would have seemed like any other Sabbath to his neighbors from the community of Nazareth. But he doesn’t just sit down. He makes a very startling statement: "Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing."  Among the people who have known him for his whole life, in the small town of Nazareth, the carpenter’s son announces that He himself is the fulfillment of the law. He himself is the anointed one, the Son of David.  Through the prophet’s words, Jesus tells us exactly what God has sent him to do.  And what is that?  Not to rule as a king would rule—Jesus has not been sent to live in wealth and splendor and majesty as his ancestor David had done. No, he has been sent to bring mercy, justice, and love to all, but especially to the most isolated members of the community, the ones who are usually relegated to the lonely margins of society: the poor, the imprisoned, the sick and disabled, the victims of injustice and abuse. These may very well have been the one-in-four of the society of Jesus’s world, those who had no close friends or confidantes. Jesus came to show them the love they had never experienced. We are called to do the same for their counterparts today. It is not an easy calling.

Although Graves Chapel is quiet and empty on most days, it still serves as the physical center of this community. I can recall a time when the chapel was a more active gathering place for the people of Graves Mill. Of course, in the years after the flood when Postmistress Ruth Lillard was stationed in the back of the chapel, folks came by most days to pick up the mail or chat with one another. That interaction is a necessary part of community, but it isn’t the spiritual community that Christ calls us to be part of.  I remember being here for services as a child when the chapel was full and my mother played the piano. I could look around and name everyone sitting in the pews because they were all neighbors, friends, and family. If I closed my eyes now, I’m sure I could still see them there in my mind’s eye.  The ladies all wore their Sunday-best dresses, and the men were attired in suits. Even when I didn’t understand everything the preacher said, I knew from the very experience of being part of this worship community that God was at the center of our lives. 

God remains here in the chapel and in each of our hearts. God is still the center of our lives. God isn’t the one who has gone into exile and is missing from our world.  If it seems that we have lost God, it is only because we do not choose to see him. When we serve Christ in one another, when we look for him among the poor or sick or lonely, when we find him in the love we share, we will know that the Lord is always in our midst. That is the promise of God’s law of love. Jesus is the fulfillment of that law.    Amen.

 

Homily for December 23, 2012

Always Christmas

Lessons:

 Canticle 15: The Magnificat

Micah 5: 2-5a

Hebrews 10:5-10

Luke 1:39-45

The Collect:

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.

Well, we have once again averted apocalypse. Maybe we should keep a record of every time this happens; having such a tally might help us to maintain perspective. At this time of year, when the scripture lessons point to the end of time and the Second Coming of Christ, the added element of the ominous Mayan calendar prediction of world’s end could make anyone a bit jumpy.

I’m not sure what it is in human nature that causes so many of us to be fascinated by the idea of Armageddon, but it does appear that we greatly prefer the thought of collective annihilation to any reflection on our own personal removal from this earthly realm, a fate that will come to each of us in due time.  Our preparation in Advent for both the birth and the Second Coming of Jesus Christ may have that very purpose—to turn our thoughts to an honest appraisal of our lives, of their meaning, and of their ultimate end. Christ’s glorious birth, his brief but world-changing ministry, and his violent death at a young age are components of a larger story—a story fulfilled by his resurrection and the promise it holds for us that there will be life after this life.

So, once again, I ask the question—why do some of us  spend so much time and energy thinking about Armageddon? Why do we worry about the end of time? A prophecy like that of the Mayan calendar disrupts our usual idea of apocalypse as something that could only happen in the far-distant future. We prefer to keep it there. Yet, every generation faces its own apocalypse. All of the people of the generation that founded Graves Chapel, for example, are no longer with us. While they were here, they lived from day to day, just as we do, enjoying their blessings and enduring their hardships.  Stepping out in faith, they kept this little church going, bequeathing it to succeeding generations. They knew, as we do, that a life lived in Christ contains much more than time’s calendar can measure. That is the message and the hope of Advent. Even though we look forward to celebrating the joyous birth of an innocent baby, Advent reminds us of the rest of Christ’s story and all that it means.

When Mary goes to visit her older cousin Elizabeth, who is finally expecting a child, we imagine Mary seeks wisdom and nurturing advice. After all, Mary has just been visited by the angel Gabriel and finds herself surprisingly pregnant. The encounter between the two women, recorded in Luke 1, reveals that each of them recognized the significance of the child she bore. Yes, there is the joy and fearful anticipation all expectant mothers feel, but there is also an understanding that their sons’ lives will follow an uncommon, difficult trajectory.

Elizabeth reports that the child in her womb, who would grow up to become John the Baptist, leapt at the sound of Mary’s voice. Elizabeth exclaims, “Blessed are you among women, and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me?”  This is the blessing and affirmation Mary needs from her cousin; at this point in Mary’s story it seems likely she has not confided in anyone that she is pregnant.  Now, before she has a chance to tell Elizabeth, not only does the older woman know, but the great-prophet-to-be Elizabeth carries also knows. They know that the infant in Mary’s womb is the long-expected Lord and Savior.

Mary’s eloquent response, so aptly called the Magnificat, is filled with hope and exultation for all of the things this Son of hers will mean for her people—for the poor and oppressed, the downtrodden children of Israel, who have wandered for too long in a spiritual wilderness, waiting for a sign from God. “He has mercy on those who fear him in every generation,” Mary says. In this speech, a very young woman speaks about the passage and the fullness of time, as if the baby she carries has already accomplished all the things expected of him. God, in choosing her as the vessel for the savior’s birth, “has cast down the mighty from their thrones, and has lifted up the lowly. He has filled the hungry with good things, and the rich he has sent away empty.” Yes, she is speaking of the history of God’s relationship with the people of Israel. But she is also speaking of the future, when the child she carries will change the world.  As we now know, that change was not something Jesus would live to see. Nor did Mary. However, the world has now existed through two millennia with the message of Jesus Christ, a message of peace and brotherly love, still holding sway in the hearts of many. 

As the collect for today states, it is not just the words of Jesus that live on in the hearts of contemporary Christians. We believe that Christ himself, through the Holy Spirit, is ever with us and within us. Advent asks us to remember our eternal guest, to keep our souls ready and open to receive Him. “Purify our conscience, Almighty God, by your daily visitation,” the collect says. Mindful that Christ comes to us at any time we turn our hearts toward him, we are called to cleanse our interior space so “that, at his coming, He may find in us a mansion prepared for himself.”  The child born in the town of Bethlehem, in a place reserved for the beasts, deserves nothing less from us than the best lodging we have to offer.

Time’s calendar and the church’s calendar bring us full circle during this season of the year.  Our preparations for Christ’s birth and for the ringing in of a new year signal opportunities for new beginnings. That we revisit these same festivals and bring out the same old ornaments and recipes every December suggests the human need for new beginnings.  As the collect for Christmas says, “O God, you make us glad by the yearly festival of the birth of your only Son Jesus Christ: Grant that we, who joyfully receive him as our Redeemer, may with sure confidence behold him when he comes to be our Judge.” Past, present and future, Christ’s and our own, are tied together in our celebrations. In the fullness of time, time itself is redeemed for us. What a great blessing!

My little granddaughter, Lillian Grace, celebrated her 4^th birthday on Thursday, December 20^th. One of the presents I gave her is a book I bought during the Advent of her birth year, when I was waiting in great joy and anticipation for the birth of my first grandchild. The beautiful picture book is called Little One, We Knew You’d Come.  This is the way it begins:  “We hoped. We dreamed. We watched for you. We counted the days till you were due. We waited. How we longed for you and the day that you were born.”  These are the thoughts of every expectant parent or grandparent. They also must have been Mary’s thoughts. In fact, the gorgeous illustrations for the book are scenes from the story of Jesus’s birth.  In the first pages, Mary is riding a donkey led by Joseph. Then, we see them in the stable. The book says, “It was late at night. The time had come. The time for you to come, my love. You’ll be here soon. We’re ready for you and the day that you were born. Little one, we knew you’d come.”  Notice the intermingling of past, present, and future in those words. It WAS late at night. You WILL be here soon. We ARE ready.  The day that you WERE born.  Our celebrations of this season exist in that timeless way. So does the Lord, about whom we say He was, is, and ever shall be.

In the next section of Little One, We Knew You’d Come, the baby is born. “By silver stars, and golden moon, at break of dawn, you came.”  The shepherds gathered by night on the hillside and the star that leads the wise men to the stable—we have always believed the baby Jesus arrived in the night. This sweet story suggests it could have been toward the break of dawn, appropriate for the world’s new beginning. Finally, the story ends with these words: “And every year, we remember you, our miracle child, our dreams come true. Oh, how we thank heaven for you! And the day that you were born!”

Are these not the words that any parent (or grandparent) could speak on the birthday of a beloved child? Have we not all been such a child at some time in the past, and doesn’t that child, like the Christ child, still live on within us?  As we look forward to the celebration of the birth of Christ, let us never forget that the true way to honor that birth is to love each and every child of God we encounter.

I pray that we may we make the mansions in our hearts big enough to hold all God’s children.

Amen.