Emmanuel (Isaiah 7, Romans 1, Matthew 1)

 

    
     Readings for the fourth Sunday of Advent (Isaiah 7, Romans 1, and Matthew 1) give us many rich texts to contemplate in this, the final week of our approach to the Nativity of Our Lord.
      We begin with the prophecy of Isaiah, "The Lord himself will give you a sign: Look, a virgin is with child, and shall bear a son, and shall name him Emmanuel." Emmanuel, as we all know, means "God with us." This is the core theme of the Christian religion: God with us, God taking on our humanity, entering our world, and in his life, death, and resurrection, showing us the true nature and destiny of the human race. And we respond to God's taking our humanity into himself, by opening ourselves to him in repentance, prayer, and worship. Especially we participate in eucharistic worship, in which God effects our transformation, our transfiguration, into the humanity which he wishes us to be, so that, as the Second Letter of Peter says, we "may become partakers of the divine nature." This is our high destiny, which we prepare for during Advent, and which we celebrate at Nativity, when our Savior, who is both divine and human, comes into our world.
     Today's reading from the opening verses of Paul's Letter to the Romans, reads like a credal statement, a summary of what may be called the Gospel, the Good News, according to Paul.
Paul presents his own experience as part of his Gospel: first he says that he is set apart for the Good News of God, and then goes on to say what that Gospel is: the good news concerning God's Son. This reading from Romans is actually one long sentence. Paul packs a lot into this sentence, a summary of the good news as he has received it: Jesus is descended from David in the flesh and is Son of God by the Spirit. Jesus rose from the dead. Paul received grace from the Son of God to offer faith in Jesus to the Gentiles.
     Matthew presents what he knows about the birth of the Messiah. This story could actually be called "The Annunciation to Joseph." We all know the Annunciation in Luke's Gospel, in which the angel Gabriel announces to Mary the approaching birth of Jesus.  Angels are very important in Luke's Gospel, and they are also important in Matthew's Gospel, but there they appear to Joseph. And Mary doesn't do any talking in Matthew's narrative; all the initiative is with Joseph and the angels. Luke, of course, balances the male-centered story of Matthew, with a story in which women are the main actors. The sequence in Matthew's narrative is interesting. Mary is found to be pregnant "by the Holy Spirit" before she and Joseph live together.  We can imagine what Joseph thinks of this when he first hears it. Joseph plans to "dismiss her quietly," as the text says.
     The prophecy of Isaiah reappears here: "Emmanuel, God with us."  Even in the extremity of a potentially humiliating situation for both Mary and Joseph, God is with them. That is why Matthew is careful to say at the beginning of his reading, that Jesus is the Messiah, the Anointed One, the Christ, the expected King and Deliverer of the Hebrews from foreigners, the Romans. The people expect a strong and glorious earthly king, who will deliver them from the oppressors and rule a great kingdom. He is to be a descendant of David, who will bring the whole world under his sway. The people of Israel have been looking for this deliverer from the time of their captivity in Babylon, and are even more eager for a deliverer from their oppression under the Romans.
     But the Messiah, in Matthew's Gospel, although he is of the House of David, is not strong and glorious in earthly terms. No, he is a baby born to an obscure couple, to a woman whose pregnancy, in the eyes of most people, would be at best questionable, and the fatherhood of the child unknown or unbelievable. Our text says, however, that Joseph was a just man, so he did not react in a way that we might expect. Into this doubtful situation the Messiah is born, quite unlike the grand expectation that many people had, and have, of what a deliverer, a Messiah, is supposed to look like.
     The very ordinariness, the improbability of the situation, are clues to what God is revealing to us here. Our deliverance, our salvation, are not to be found in grand world-changing schemes. Our salvation is in the local, the particular, the ordinary, the very human world around us. God chose poor, unknown people in a backwater corner of the Roman empire, put them into a situation in which they could rely only on Him, and they responded with faith. They took what God gave them in the situations in which they found themselves, and did what God asked them to do. With faith and courage they gave up conventional understanding, in this case the usual view of a suspicious pregnancy, and allowed God to lead them to a new understanding. And we are here today as a consequence of their willingness to open themselves up to a new awareness of God working in them and in the world.
     Likewise, we too are being given an opportunity by God, this Nativity and always, to open ourselves to the new situation which he has promised us: Emmanuel, God With Us, our true destiny, transformation into the people God wishes us to be.
     In nomine etc..

Christ the King

A homily for the Vigil of the Feast of Christ the King.
     In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.
     We've reached the last Sunday after Pentecost, or the last Sunday after Trinity, the Feast of Christ the King, here in the church named for Christ's past and future appearance, his Advent, in his Incarnation, and his appearance, his parousia, at the end of time. On the Cross we see his title "King of the Jews," and in the statue before us, we see him robed as a king in western medieval European style, wearing a crown and carrying an orb. In the Cross, the statue of Christ the King, and in the fact of our gathering here today, we see the signs of Christ's kingship, fully arrayed. "Jesus proclaimed the coming of God's Kingdom and the fulfilment of Israel's...hopes." All were, and are, called to repent and to believe in the good news. The Kingdom, in this teaching, is the action of God, when his sovereignty and power are manifested. To enter God's Kingdom is to experience his power. 
     The Kingdom of God has already begun, it has already been realized, but the end has not yet come, and so the Kingdom has not yet been fulfilled. With the coming of Christ, God's reign has been inaugurated. It arrived with the coming of the Son of Man. Origen, the third-century theologian, says that Jesus himself was the Kingdom, by whom the blind received their sight, the lame walked, lepers were cleansed and the deaf heard, the dead were raised up, and the poor had good news preached to them. The miracles were fulfilments of God's promises and signs that the Kingdom was present. 
     The Kingdom is in the future as well. We ask for the Kingdom to arrive in the Lord's prayer: adveniat regnum tuum, your Kingdom come. At the very end of the Revelation to John, we read "Maranatha!" "Come, Lord!" The Son of Man who has come is the Son of Man who will come. With the Second Coming, Christ's work will be consummated. We can understand New Testament teaching of the Kingdom by being aware of the tension between the Kingdom that is already here and the Kingdom that has not yet arrived. 
     These two aspects of the Kingdom, the 'already here' and the 'not yet,' are distinct but not separate. The victory over death has been won by Christ, but his reign will appear fully at the end. The coming of the Kingdom will be the second coming of the Son of Man. With the coming of the Son, eternal life has already begun. As John's Gospel says, in chapter 3, "Whoever believes in the Son has eternal life." But there will also be a future resurrection, a last day, a final judgment, and a future coming of Jesus. Jesus says, "I will come again, and take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also." As preparation for the final coming of the Kingdom, Jesus exhorts his followers to be ready, to watch, to have patience, to be confident. As Paul says in today's reading from the Letter to the Colossians, "May you be prepared to endure everything with patience, while joyfully giving thanks to the Father...[who has] transferred us into the Kingdom of his beloved Son." 
     Jesus proclaimed the Kingdom in parables which reveal that the day of salvation has arrived, that the new age has begun, that the new wine is available, that the Messiah has come. For example, in one parable, the Kingdom is like a tiny mustard seed which becomes a tall tree. The Kingdom grows and transforms from  a small beginning, under God's power and guidance. 
     In the parables, Jesus gave his disciples "the secret of the Kingdom of God," which was the knowledge that the end of the age had already arrived. This secret was to be revealed and proclaimed to all who would hear it. To learn the secret, Jesus's hearers were called to repent and believe the Gospel.   
     The miracles of Jesus also point to the present and future Kingdom of God. Jesus performed healings, exorcisms, resurrections, and transformations of nature. These are all manifestations of the powers of the age to come. They are signs of the Kingdom. They are not faith-healing, or examples of the power of mind over nature, or magic. They are signs of God's presence in his own creation; they are also, of course, demonstrations of Jesus's Messianic activity.
     Jesus's exorcisms also bear witness to the Kingdom of God. Jesus defeats the demons, and by extension defeats the powers of Satan and death. The nature miracles, like the feeding of the five thousand and walking on water, show that God can and does control nature and human life. The miracles of Jesus are manifestations of the saving power of God and the revelation of Jesus as the bearer of the Kingdom of God. They reveal the arrival of the Messianic age, and the kind of Messiah Jesus is.
      Between Jesus's calling of the Twelve, and the Resurrection, he brought a new community, the New Israel, into existence. It is worth noting that in this New Israel, Jesus showed a new, radical attitude toward women: he conversed with them, he healed them on the Sabbath day, he travelled with them, and he came to those who did not travel with him, to stay with them and to teach them.
      After Jesus's death and resurrection, and the descent of the Holy Spirit, the Church came into existence. Saint Paul in his First Letter to the Corinthians, refers to this new community as "us on whom the ends of the ages have come." The Letter to the Hebrews mentions those who "have tasted the goodness of the word of God and the powers of the age to come." The Church, as the Body of Christ and the Temple of the Holy Spirit, exists in the period between Jesus's resurrection and his second coming.
     The Kingdom and the Church are related, but they are not identical, although many Christians down the centuries have been tempted to think so. Rather, the Church proclaims the Kingdom, and is a sign of its presence, both now and in the future.
      And so we have, in the Scriptures, and in the Church, clear signs and teachings of Christ, our King and our God, and of his Kingdom. Maranatha. Come, Lord Jesus. Remember us O Lord, when you come into your Kingdom. 
     In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.

Wrestling with God (Luke 18 Genesis 32, 2 Timothy)

A homily. Jacob wrestles with an angel (Genesis 32: 22-31), Paul instructs Timothy (2 Timothy 3:14 - 4:5), and a widow importunes an unjust judge (Luke 18:1 - 8).
     In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.

     Today's readings, the story of Jacob wrestling with the angel, some instructions of Paul to Timothy, and the parable of the widow and the unjust judge in Luke's Gospel, at first reading do not appear to have much to do with each other. But in fact they do have a common thread, and they do parallel each other to a certain extent. It is their common thread that I want to talk about this morning. 

      Jacob is alone at night, and, our text says, wrestles with a man until daybreak. At least, at the beginning of the wrestling match, Jacob's partner is a man, but by the end of the reading, it is clear that he is more than a man; he is an angel, or even God himself. The angel, or God, does not overpower Jacob, but matches him evenly, and, toward the end, Jacob is very much in control. The angel, or God, is eager to be on his way, but Jacob does not let him go without asking for a blessing. He receives one, and God or the angel leaves as dawn breaks. There is a struggle here, a contest, there is resistance, even a kind of relationship, and in the end a resolution, the achievement of a new state of being, a new awareness, a new step in spiritual life which apparently had not been experienced before. Jacob says, "I have seen God face to face, and yet my life is preserved." "The sun rose upon him as he passed," our story says.

     This story is about an insight which Jacob experiences, a revelation which comes to him. And the insight, the revelation, is this: that in the darkness of struggle with the unknown, that in our coming to know God, we will see God and live. Jacob's growing awareness of this revelation, is indicated by the breaking dawn, by the sunrise. Jacob's dark night of struggle ends with the light of a new life with God, a God he has known, experienced, and seen. A God of mystery and darkness becomes a God of light, warmth, and life. God does not overpower Jacob, but allows him to come to knowledge of him gradually in the darkness, then in the breaking dawn of new realization, and finally in the full light of  day, of full understanding. As Christians we know the fulfillment of this revelation. In Christ we know the warmth and light of new life in God, reached after the struggle of the Passion, and signified by the dawn of the day of Resurrection. Jacob struggles with God, and God allows Jacob to see him. All through this struggle, Jacob remains strong, determined, focused (as we say nowadays) and never loses control of himself or forgets what he wants, which is God's blessing. God gives him that, and more.

     So, too, in Paul's charge to Timothy, there is an awareness of struggle, and expectation. Paul expects Timothy always to be sober, to endure suffering, all in expectation of the appearing of Jesus and the coming of the Kingdom. Paul expects persistence regardless of circumstance, steadfastness, patience. Jacob has all these in his encounter with God, and the same pattern appears in the life of a Christian, and in the letters of Paul.

     In today's Gospel we have the themes of persistence, resistance, struggle. The reading presents its conclusion at the beginning, and a hint of another not-quite-so-obvious conclusion at the end.

     "Then Jesus told them a parable about their need to pray always and not to lose heart." Pray always, and do not lose heart. Pray always. We all pray, one way or another. Some of us pray the Daily Office, some use selections from the Prayer Book, some use St Augustine's Prayer Book or other devotional books, and still others are accomplished in spontaneous prayer without the aid of texts. And of course, we all pray in church, in the Liturgy and other services. We remember that Paul says, in the First Letter to the Thessalonians. "Pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances, for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you."

     How do we do this, in lives which are filled with many activities, of which prayer is only one? I think that the answer is actually in our mere persistence, like that of the widow who keeps coming to the unjust judge. Her focus is continually on one thing, whether she is actually in court or not. Now the Gospel doesn't say anything about why the widow is in court. We are left to imagine a back story. Perhaps she is suing a tenant who hasn't paid his rent, or she is contesting a will, or she is seeking the return of land. The judge is unjust, perhaps because he wants to be bribed, or he is simply incompetent, or he usually rules in favor of the rich and the powerful, and ignores ordinary people. Jesus's followers know stories like this, so he doesn't have to spell out the widow's situation. So what matters in the story is not detail like this, but the attitude, the determination, the struggle of the widow to obtain justice. Just as Jacob would not let the angel, or God, go, until he received a blessing, just as Paul tells Timothy, and us, to continue, to be persistent, to endure suffering and so on, so the Gospel urges relentless persistence in pursuit of God's justice, his Kingdom and righteousness. This is how we pray always, pray unceasingly. And the dawn will break, the day will come, when we will see God face to face, and live. 

     Then comes this astonishing remark in the Gospel, a remark which appears to have no connection to what comes before or after it, as it were dropped into the narrative. "And yet, when the Son of Man comes, will he find faith on earth?"  Did Jesus actually conclude his parable with this, or did Luke put this saying here, because he couldn't find another spot for it?  I don't have an answer to this, but the mere fact that this remark is here it itself a message, which we must consider as part of the Gospel message, and the message of the whole Scripture. The fact that we have to be told to be persistent, to endure suffering, to keep wrestling with God until he gives us a blessing, reminds us that it is easy to give up, not to bother, to do the comfortable thing, and just let go. Not to persist, not to endure, to forget that God is there to be wrestled with, to forget that God will in fact give us a blessing when dawn breaks, is always possible. Our Lord, and Luke, are warning us not to rest easy, but to continue to put ourselves in the way of God's blessing, to be there when the dawn breaks, to be there when God's justice, that is, new life in him, comes to his chosen ones. And we are all his chosen ones, called to wrestle with him, and to demand a blessing of him.
     In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.

Fear not, Little Flock (Luke 12)

A homily on Luke 12: 32 - 40. Jesus teaches his disciples not to fear.
     In the name of God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.
     Today's Gospel contains a number of instructions: 1. Do not be afraid. 2. Sell your possessions. 3. Give alms. 4. Make purses that don't wear out. 5. Be dressed for action. 6. Have your lamps lit. 7. Be like those waiting for their master, and, to sum up, 8. You must be ready.
     2, 3, 4 can be summed up as "Sell your stuff and give away the proceeds." 5 through 8 can be summed up as "Be prepared." And it is the first instruction, "Do not be afraid," that makes the other instructions possible. Only the lack of fear that Our Lord is talking about releases us from the possessions that tie us down, and makes it possible for us to be ready for whatever God wants us to do next.
     "Do not be afraid." Those are also God's words to Abraham in Genesis 15, verse 1, in today's first reading. Abraham has just returned from a battle with the king of Sodom, and he is blessed by Melchizedek, king of Salem, to whom Abraham gives one-tenth of his goods. And after Abraham promised the king of Sodom that he would not take his king's possessions, God says to Abraham, "Do not be afraid...I am your shield. Your reward shall be very great." We learn that in return for his restraint toward the king of Sodom, Abraham will be given descendants, and they, we hear in verse 14, will have great possessions. Our Lord parallels this exactly in Luke's Gospel: "Do not be afraid, little flock, for it is your Father's good pleasure to give you the kingdom." The "little flock" probably feared what Abraham feared: that they would have no possessions and no descendants either. These verses, after all, are in a section of the Gospel which the New Revised Standard Version calls "Do not worry," which contains the lines we have all heard many times: "Do not worry about your life, what you will eat, or about your body, what you will wear...consider the lilies...they neither toil nor spin...and do not keep striving for what you are to eat...and drink...instead...strive for his kingdom, and these things will be given to you as well." For Abraham in the Genesis story, the concern has been for earthly descendants and possessions. In Luke's Gospel, the emphasis is on letting go of earthly possessions, and any anxiety about them, for the sake of a future kingdom, the new heaven and the new earth.
     I don't want to sidetrack myself here, not unnecessarily anyway, but I do want to look at a few words in this story which have been puzzling me. Our Lord says, "Sell your possessions, and give alms." Sell them to whom? Give alms to whom? It seems to me that there are two groups here: the little flock to whom the Father will give the Kingdom, and everybody else, whom the little flock will leave behind. Does Our Lord intend this? Is there really only going to be a part of the human race, the "little flock," who will receive the Kingdom? Furthermore, is the little flock really supposed to sell everything to the remainder, and give away the proceeds? Where do the proceeds go?
     The beginning of an answer comes in the next line of the Gospel reading. "Make purses for yourselves that do not wear out, an unfailing treasure in heaven, where no thief comes near and no moth destroys." I want to look at the Greek word which our translation renders as "purses." The Greek is 'ballantia' which derives from a verb 'ballo,' which, my dictionary says, means 'throw, put, place, offer, give, pour, sow, invest, deposit,' and many more extended meanings somehow related to 'throw' or 'put.' The 'ballantia' then, are places where we put, or deposit, our treasures. But our text actually says that the 'ballantia' the purses, are the "unfailing treasure in heaven." What, then, is in the 'ballantia,' the purses, the treasure in heaven? In our consumerist, materially prosperous period, we naturally think of money and material possessions, and they can indeed be obstacles to perceiving the will of God.  But I think that our story is actually directing us to look at possessions and alms more closely.
     Remember the summary of the three groups of instructions in today's Gospel: Do not be afraid. Sell your stuff and give away the proceeds. Be prepared. It occurs to me that selling, and giving away, and being prepared, are exactly what we need to do in order not to be afraid. Our Lord is telling us how to let go of fear, so that we will be able to receive the Father's gift of the Kingdom. We let go of fear by letting go of the stuff that we think we need. They could be material things, as the literal surface meaning of the story suggests, or they could be ideas, notions, wishes, dreams, any intellectual or emotional obstacle at all, that get between us and God. And when we "sell" them, that is, when we let them go, we get back freedom. Freedom is what we have to give away...the alms of the story are...freedom. When we do that, we have treasure in heaven, which can't be stolen or eaten by moths. That freedom is what goes into the 'ballantia,' the purses, and it's that freedom in God that makes them treasures.
     Being prepared is the other way not to be afraid. When we are prepared for anything, then there is nothing to be afraid of. "Be dressed for action," "open the door for him as soon as he comes and knocks." There is nothing to be afraid of when we are prepared for God's arrival at any time.
     We remember that it is our "Father's good pleasure to give us the Kingdom." Our Lord tells us how to prepare for this, but the Father's good pleasure has been decided in advance. We don't earn it by doing what Our Lord commands, but we do give ourselves up to it. There is a paradoxical double movement here: we are not to fear and therefore let go of possessions and make sure that we are prepared, and, also, doing those things liberates us from fear. We have the Father's promise that, either way, it is his good pleasure to give us the Kingdom. The only condition really is that we "open the door for him as soon as he comes and knocks." But that he will come is clear, and all we have to do is be ready for him, and he makes that readiness possible. "You must be ready, for the Son of Man is coming at an unexpected hour." He makes it possible for us to be ready, and our readiness makes it possible for the Kingdom to appear.
     In the name of God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Jesus cures a woman on the Sabbath (Luke 13)

A homily on Luke 13: 10 - 17. Jesus cures a woman on the Sabbath.

     In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.

     The most striking thing about today's Gospel is the remark by the leader of the synagogue in verse 14, when he says, "There are six days on which work ought to be done; come on those days and be cured, and not on the Sabbath day." The leader sounds like he is taking a number of things for granted, and apparently he believes that his hearers do too. The first thing he takes for granted is: curing apparently goes on all the time. The second is: curing is a form of work. The third thing he takes for granted is: six days a week are enough time for it.

     There is no hint in the Gospel that there is anything unusual about such a cure. Nowadays, in the heyday of scientific medicine, we are liable to be skeptical, and perhaps more than skeptical, of reports of cures by religious teachers. But our time is also the heyday of great Christian shrines like Lourdes and Saint Anne de Beaupre and many others, where people go to pray for a cure, and where many receive healing from God. And the Roman Church, as we know, has a rigorous procedure for verifying miraculous cures in the process for confirming the holiness of those thought to be saints. So, even in our age, although we may not take cures for granted in quite the same way as the leader of the synagogue does in today's Gospel, we are aware that such events apparently do occur, and we don't necessarily dismiss stories of such events without examining them. So we can appreciate somewhat the attitude of the leader of the synagogue in today's story, for whom such a cure is not out of the ordinary.

     Curing is also work. It's a job, and of course it is, as any medical doctor or nurse or anyone working in a hospital would say. And like any job, there are rules and expectations around it. And one of those expectations is that the worker, Jesus the healer in this case, takes one day off a week like everybody else. Surely, six days out of seven are enough to work cures! The leader of the synagogue takes this for granted, as I said, and reminds his hearers of it, just in case they have forgotten.
     Notice how he does this. The leader says, "Come on those days and be cured, and not on the Sabbath." "Come on those days and be cured." He is actually addressing the cured woman, as well as the crowd. He doesn't speak directly to Jesus. The leader is saying that the woman has broken the rule by accepting the cure, not Jesus by performing it. Note that the woman does not ask for a cure either; she simply appears in the synagogue, and Jesus calls her to him and lays hands on her. Jesus takes the initiative here, not the woman. I'm willing to speculate that the woman takes her condition for granted, as an unchangeable part of her life, just as the leader of the synagogue takes the conditions of his life and society for granted as well.
     The next sentence is equally interesting: "But the Lord answered him and said, 'You hypocrites!' "  "The Lord answered him," singular, and said, "You hypocrites!" plural. In contrast to the leader, who evades expressing his indignation at Jesus by speaking instead to the crowd, and to the woman as part of the crowd, so Jesus makes sure that he addresses everybody: the leader and the crowd.
     Jesus accepts the leader's understanding that the cure is work. But he upends the prohibition against it, by pointing out that some activities not thought to be work actually are, and they occur on the Sabbath, and so curing the sick can occur on the Sabbath as well. In other words, an exception for some other forms of work on the Sabbath allows an exception for this particular form of work, and so people can be cured on the Sabbath. "And ought not this woman...be set free from this bondage on the Sabbath day?" Jesus does not seek to overturn the Sabbath law, but he does point out that it is not as exclusive as the leader of the synagogue believes it to be. The Sabbath is about freedom from bondage, and is not about submitting to the bondage of exclusive rules.
     Then Luke writes, "When he said this, all his opponents were put to shame, and the entire crowd was rejoicing at all the wonderful things that he was doing." This sentence introduces an element, or rather elements, into the story, who haven't been there up until now. "All his opponents were put to shame," it says. Where do these opponents come from? They aren't there at the beginning of the reading, and they aren't anywhere else in it either. All of a sudden, they appear. "And the entire crowd was rejoicing." The opponents aren't part of the crowd?
     We don't actually know what the opponents oppose. Presumably they oppose the cure, as the leader does, but the text doesn't actually say that. But there is no need, however, to worry about this curious, vague interruption of the text, because there is always an element that opposes good, that seeks to undermine it, that seeks to restrict freedom, and that resents the rejoicing of people freed from bondage. So Luke reminds us of this presence, this opposition, without having to be too specific about it.
     And therein lies a lesson that we can take from this story. Into a situation where the woman does not question her condition or seek to do anything about it, a situation where the leader of the synagogue assumes that almost anything anyone does on the Sabbath is forbidden, and a situation in which there is very little face-to-face communication among the participants, and where there is an opposition ready to object no matter what, into these assumptions and routines and conventional and traditional understandings, comes Jesus. And what happens? A woman's life is transformed, the leader's understanding is changed, Jesus's opponents are stopped, for a time, and, as the Gospel says, "the entire crowd was rejoicing at all the wonderful things he was doing." The free act of God in Jesus shakes everyone, or almost everyone, loose from what they take for granted, from what they think they know, and a new thing, freedom in God, comes into their lives. And the crowd, and the woman, respond in the only way, the best way, they can. They rejoice.
     In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.

Martha and Mary. (Luke 10)

A homily on Luke 10: 38-42. Martha and Mary wait on Jesus.

     In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.

     Our lectionary provides us with an interesting combination of readings for this Sunday: from Genesis, the story of the appearance of Lord to Abraham, in the form of three angels (whom we refer to as the Old Testament Trinity) by the oaks at Mamre, and from the Letter to the Colossians, a stirring statement of an exalted Christology, which Paul proclaims as his Gospel. Then, unaccountably it seems, after the two glorious readings we have just mentioned, we have the short, not very exalted, rather down-to-earth reading of an encounter among Martha, Mary, and Jesus, which appears, on the surface, to be nothing more than a spat between two sisters, in which Jesus appears, somewhat unsatisfactorily, to side with one over the other. After the impressive readings from Genesis and Colossians, we have been brought to earth with a thud, into a world of ordinary domestic labor and sibling resentment.
     There is a painting by Vermeer which presents very effectively the conventional understanding of this story, which one commentator described as "the most famous sibling rivalry of all time." In the painting, Martha is setting down a loaf of bread before Jesus, while Mary is in repose at his feet, absorbing his teaching. Martha, while setting down the bread, is glaring at Jesus; she is clearly annoyed by the situation. The standard view of ancient and medieval commentators is that of two rival sisters, models of two different kinds of devotion, the one a contemplative, a monastic, and the other in active ministry in the world. Even today, this interpretation of the story is probably the most common. And there is even a tendency to take the story to mean that the contemplative way is superior to the active way.
     Luke doesn't tell us the whole story. There is in John's Gospel an much fuller account of the relationships among Jesus, Martha and Mary, which can help us to understand better the account in Luke. In chapters 11 and 12 of John, the account of the raising of Lazarus and its aftermath, Martha and Mary are very prominent. And of course, Lazarus, whom Jesus raises from the dead, is their brother.
     When Lazarus their brother is ill, Martha and Mary both send a message to Jesus, presumably asking Jesus to heal Lazarus. But Jesus does not come immediately, and in the meantime Lazarus dies. And as we know, when Jesus finally gets there, Lazarus has been dead four days. It is in this encounter that we find out what Martha and Mary are really made of.
     When Jesus shows up, Martha goes to meet him, while Mary stays home. Martha challenges him, "Lord, if you had been here, my brother would not have died." But Jesus says that her brother will rise again. Then we hear one of the great "I am" sayings of John's Gospel: "I am the resurrection and the life." Jesus says to Martha, "Do you believe this?" And Martha replies, "Yes, Lord, I believe that you are the Messiah, the Son of God, the one coming into the world." This parallels what we call the Confession of Saint Peter, which we hear in Matthew's Gospel, chapter 16, in which Peter says, "You are the Messiah, the Son of the living God." The Church commemorates the confession of Peter on January 18. There is a commemoration of "Mary and Martha of Bethany" on July 29, which merely repeats today's Gospel. It seems to me that we could elevate this event beyond a mere commemoration, with the appropriate Gospel from John, since it is connected with one of the great events of the Gospel.
     In John's Gospel, we learn more about what Mary is made of too. Jesus goes to dinner, again, at the home of Martha and Mary and Lazarus. Note that this is a dangerous thing for them to do, since the authorities are looking for Jesus and Lazarus. But Martha and Mary are willing to make themselves and their home, which they own, available to Jesus. The courage and faith of these women are very important in the development of the Christian community. And we see the depth of Mary's faith when she anoints Jesus's feet with costly perfume. This is a clear sign that she  knows very well who Jesus is, and what he, and they, are facing.
     So we see that the events in John's Gospel in which Martha and Mary appear are way beyond the disconcerting household resentment, which is the conventional interpretation of the story in Luke's Gospel. And when we bring what we have learned from John's Gospel back into Luke's story, we find in Luke a few things which perhaps we did not notice on first hearing.
     Our translation, the New Revised Standard Version, obscures a few terms which could lead us into deeper understanding of what Luke is telling us here, and which John's Gospel supports. In John's Gospel, we hear of the faith, leadership, and service, of Martha and Mary, of their importance to Jesus and his mission. These are present in Luke's story too, which a closer look at his words make clear to us. I choose just a few.
     Jesus says, "Martha, you are distracted by many things." The Greek for "by many things" is "peri pollen diakonian." Actually, this says, "about much service," or, "about much diakonia." The service, the diakonia, here is not just table service, but all her work as a leader in the community, to which John's Gospel points. Luke reinforces the point when he quotes Martha as saying, "Do you not care that my sister has left me to do all the work by myself?" "Do all the work by myself" in the Greek is "monen me katelipen diakonein." "Diakonein" in this case is also not just "to wait on tables." It also means her ministry as a whole, her diakonia in the Christian community. That is why Jesus says, "there is need of only one thing," which is the devotion of Mary, which he points to. We remember that Martha welcomed Jesus into her home, which confirms her importance to Jesus, and his importance to her. And Martha rises to the occasion, as we see in John's Gospel, when she proclaims her faith in him as Messiah and Son of God, the Resurrection and the Life. Martha has absorbed what Jesus taught her. Jesus saw that Martha was on the brink of full understanding , full awareness of the nature of Jesus and of her own nature; Jesus gave Martha that extra push, that final word for which she was ready, and she opened to full understanding. Mary, indeed, does help Martha to do the work after all, the work of knowing Jesus for who he is. This knowing is not merely a form of words, an idea only, a theological statement, but a deep spiritual experience which Mary had reached, and the readiness for which Jesus perceived in Martha. 

     In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.

The Coming of the Holy Spirit (John 14)

A homily on John 14: 23-29. The coming of the Holy Spirit, the Advocate.

     In the name of God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

     "And now I have told you this before it occurs, so that when it does occur, you may believe." Today's Gospel reading is a selection from the long Last Supper Discourses in John's Gospel, in which our Lord teaches his disciples about his, and their, relationship to the Father, what is required to maintain that relationship, and about the Holy Spirit, the Advocate, whom the Father will send in Jesus's name, and who "will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you."
     The nature and purpose of the Christian life are summarized in these lines. The reading prepares us for the near approach of Ascension, Pentecost, and Trinity Sunday, reminding us that Christians live in and for the Trinity. Jesus is preparing his disciples for that life, in his teaching in today's Gospel. We, nearly two millennia after these words were spoken, and after the events they refer to, benefit from all the following centuries of thought and Christian experience which enrich our knowledge of the life to which Jesus , in our text, is introducing his disciples. We are, perhaps, too familiar with what we have read and heard. The disciples are at the beginning of this new life; perhaps our text can awaken us to the newness of this experience, to something like what the disciples experienced when they heard these words for the first time.
      Perhaps, when we think of God, we think of an abstraction, an impersonal concept like the Prime Mover or the First Cause, or the answer to a metaphysical question like, "Why is there something rather than nothing?" - a question to which "God" is supposed to be the answer. Perhaps you have heard of, or remember, the Douglas Adams books The Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy and The Restaurant at the End of the Universe. In one or other of those books, I don't remember which, there is the famous question, "What is the answer to the question of life, the universe, and everything?" The answer, I believe, was...42! This answer, of course, pokes fun at metaphysical speculation and philosophical pretensions to describe the nature and goal of the universe, but it is also asserting that, perhaps, there is no answer to the question at all, and so the question itself should be made fun of.
     For Christians there is an answer, and it is not an abstraction. In the first line of today's Gospel, we hear, "Those who love me will keep my word, and my Father will love them, and we will come to them and make our home with them." These words are taken from ordinary family experience. They are rich with meaning, at least for people who had, or have, happy experiences of family life, and for those who did not, they are promises that happy experiences of that kind are what life with God really is. The inner life of God, in other words, is like the life of a family, whose members know each other intimately, and whose members are able to communicate that knowledge, that experience, to the rest of us, who are invited and enabled to participate in it.

     Jesus goes on to say, "I have said these things to you while I am still with you. But the Advocate, the Holy Spirit, whom the Father will send in my name, will teach you everything, and remind you of all that I have said to you." It is interesting that we need reminding, and that that reminding is the job of the Holy Spirit. We forget easily. This is why we celebrate the eucharist once or twice a day, why we say the daily offices, two, three, four or more offices a day, with their rounds of daily, weekly, monthly, yearly commemorations and repetitions of prayers and psalms and readings. Because we forget. We forget that God loves us, we forget that we are to love our neighbors as ourselves, we forget that what we do to the least among us, we do to our Lord. The Holy Spirit teaches us, usually the same things, over and over, and reminds us, over and over, who we are and what our vocation is. Our vocation is, lest we forget, to make our home with the Father and the Son, on the basis of love, as they have promised to do with us. And the Mother of God, we remember, made her home available (if "available" is the right word) to the Holy Spirit, who brought her into the most intimate possible relationship with the Son.
     "And now I have told you this before it occurs, so that when it does occur, you may believe." When I read this sentence the other day, it puzzled me somewhat. I wasn't sure what "it" is. Is it Jesus's going to the Father? Is it the coming of the Advocate, the Holy Spirit? And what does Jesus mean when he says, "when it does occur, you may believe?" Believe what?
     Today's reading doesn't provide clear answers, at least not obviously. But the meanings do become clear in the chapter as a whole, which is mostly about the relationship between Jesus and the Father. The first line of the chapter says, "Believe in God, believe also in me." Later, Jesus says to Philip, "Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me?" So Jesus is asking his disciples to believe that he is the way to the Father, that his words and works are those of the Father in him, that the Father will be glorified in him. The closeness, the intimacy, of the Father and the Son is what the disciples, and we, are to believe.
     Jesus's going to the Father, and the coming of the Spirit are almost the same event. The Spirit comes because the Son has gone to the Father. The Spirit's work is, in effect, about that relationship between the Father and Son, which is love, which the Spirit continuously keeps before us and among us. The Spirit continuously reminds us of all that Jesus has said to us, and the Spirit makes it possible for us not only to hear it, but to remain in, and act on, the love between the Father and the Son.
     In the name of God, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. Amen.

One hundred fifty-three (John 21)

A homily on John 21:1-19. The miraculous draft of fishes.

     In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.

     Our Lectionary for tonight and tomorrow, the Third Sunday of Easter, has assembled an impressive set of readings, each of which provides more than enough material for several sermons. The Hymn to the Lamb in Revelation 5, the story in Acts of the Damascus Road experience and the conversion of St Paul, and of course, the Gospel, containing as it does two stories: the Miraculous Draft of Fishes, and the three commands to Peter. Since the rather long Gospel reading affords so much material, I will concentrate on that, and bring out only a few features which caught my attention.

     First, a reminiscence. I believe that I last preached on this text, at the induction service for a rector in Newfoundland, some thirty years ago. I was rather nervous about it, for two reasons. Firstly, the Bishop had asked me to preach because he wanted to hear me for himself. People had evidently been grumbling about my preaching, and he wanted to know what the fuss was about. Secondly, I would be talking to people (outport Newfoundlanders who lived by fishing) who knew a lot more about fishing than I did. Our story begins with seven disciples fishing unsuccessfully. I was sure that my congregation could have given the disciples good advice, and that anything I said about fishing would be foolish.
     I remember, in fact, one afternoon riding in a pickup with a priest who was also a fisherman, along a still stretch of water which looked quite ordinary and featureless to me. He stopped the truck, gestured over the water, and pointed to some ripples which indicated, apparently, the presence of a school of fish, evidently quite large. He even told me what kind of fish they were, although I've forgotten that detail. He regretted that he wasn't able to hop aboard a boat, and haul in the fish, right that minute! It's an incident like that, indicating intimate knowledge of the fishery, to which tonight's Gospel points.
     In any event, the Bishop was happy with what he heard, and the congregation were generous to their young preacher, who was, as the Bishop said, "right green out of college!" I think I remember one or two remarks I made in that sermon all those years ago. I appreciate the present opportunity possibly to quote myself!
     Tonight's Gospel begins with seven disciples, only three of whom are named (note that number: three), fishing, or at least attempting to fish, on the Sea of Tiberias. The three named disciples are Simon Peter, Thomas the Twin, and Nathanael of Cana. Peter and Nathanael are among the first disciples of Jesus, whose names appear in the first chapter of John's Gospel. The parallelism is intentional, and reinforces the importance of the disciples, especially Peter, for understanding what tonight's reading is about. And that number, three, will come up again.
     Here we have another, post-Resurrection appearance (the third appearance, that is) of Jesus, in which his disciples don't recognize him. The first to realize who he is, is the "disciple whom Jesus loved," when Jesus directs them to where fish may be found. But Peter, when he hears this, jumps into the sea. The story doesn't actually say why he does this. Is he trying to get to Jesus, to get away, or to get to shore? But we hear shortly that he made it to shore, and boarded the boat again, to haul in the net.
     Notice what is happening here. Peter announces that he is going fishing, he leaps off the boat when he sees Jesus, and he goes back aboard the boat to unload it. The Scripture says Peter "hauled the net ashore, full of large fish, a hundred fifty-three of them." The appearance of this number in the story is very striking. Have you ever stopped to wonder why this unusual number appears in our story?
     One hundred fifty-three is the product of three times fifty-one. Fifty-one is the product of three times seventeen. Three, like seventeen, is a prime number. It is not accidental that the number three appears in this story several times. It emphasizes the importance of three persons: Jesus, Peter, and the disciple whom Jesus loved, that is, John. We recall the back-and-forth in chapter 20 between Peter and John at the tomb of Jesus. John outruns Peter and looks in the tomb, Peter actually goes in first, then John goes in. The twenty-first chapter also develops the importance of this pair.
     The number three comes up again, in the three questions, and the three commands, to Peter. The three questions and the three commands tell the disciples, and us, that Peter is very important to Jesus and his disciples, in a special way, as is John.
     Had I been sorting out the Gospel readings for the current lectionary, I would have laid out this chapter, John 21, a little differently. I would have had two readings, the first to be the story of the miraculous draft of fishes, and the second to include the three questions to Peter, and the concluding verses about John. Such a selection would make it easier to bring out the contrast between the two, as well as their mutual importance in the earliest Christian community. As it is, the current arrangement emphasizes Peter more.
     Since tonight's Gospel points so clearly to Peter, we need to find out what qualities he had that make him important to Jesus, to the other disciples, to the writer of the Gospel, and to us.
     Firstly, he is willing to go fishing in the dark. The others trust him enough to follow him, even though they have no success at first. That kind of courage is essential; the other disciples have it too, and it is a quality that every Christian needs.
     Secondly, not only is Peter willing to go fishing in the dark, he is willing to jump into the sea, with clothes on, no less. His faith that he will reach the shore regardless, shows us another facet of the courage that is essential to faith.
     Thirdly, Peter is willing, and able, to haul the net ashore. Although the outcome had not seemed likely through the dark night, at dawn came the fulfilment. Peter was ready for that too. Success and discouragement, darkness and light, are the same to Peter. He is there to do what needs to be done, whatever the outcome.
     Fourthly, Peter is willing to be questioned closely by Jesus, repeatedly, about the nature of his attitude to Jesus. Do you love me? Do you love me? Do you really love me? When Jesus is sure of Peter's response, he tells Peter what this means: caring for his flock, and, in the end, being willing to give up everything, to return to that uncertainty with which our story begins. So it is for us, to be willing to be questioned and known by Jesus, to do the work he gives us to do, and, in the end, to have let it go, all for the glory of God.

     In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.

Halfway (1 Corinthians 10, Luke 13)

A homily on 1 Corinthians 10. 1 -13, and Luke 13. 1 - 9. Stern warnings from Paul and Luke.
     In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.
      Here we are, at the Vigil of the third Sunday in Lent, halfway through Lent. Holy Week is only three weeks away. Appropriately, it seems, as we approach the week of the Passion, we have some rather stern texts from Paul and Luke, containing severe warnings. The message is: repent or perish! Death is presented in these readings as punishments for misdeeds of one kind or another. In Paul's letter, the misdeeds are idolatry, sexual immorality, putting the Lord to the test, and, finally, complaining.
     In the reading from Luke's Gospel, the message is also: repent or perish! In this short section, particular offenses are not listed, but the message is the same. The text appears to say that the people who died in these incidents (whose background we don't know) were no worse than anyone else, but still, their fate will be ours if we don't repent. In other words, we are no better than they were, so watch out!
     What is a nice, easygoing San Francisco liberal like myself going to do with a message like this? It is so apparently uncompromising, its message so inescapable, that there is only one possible response: repent!
     The epistle reading ends too soon, it seems to me. It really ought to go on to include verses 14 to 22, which are about the cup of blessing which we bless, and the bread which we break. These lines balance the opening lines of the reading, which are about the spiritual food and drink of the people of the Exodus, which was Christ, Paul says, as he is food and drink in verses 14 through 22.
     We remember what is in between these two descriptions of spiritual food and drink, these two meals which are meant to bring us closer to God. Idolatry, immorality, putting Christ to the test, and, last but not least, complaining. Complaining! A friend told me just the other day that Bette Midler is supposed to have said that "God gave us language so we could kvetch!" At least, that's the gist of it. Perhaps some of you can tell me what the exact quote really is. And Jane Wagner, Lily Tomlin's partner and writer and collaborator, said, "I personally think that we developed language because of our deep inner need to complain." There is a warning here -- that we can forget how well off we are, spiritually and materially, and we can reinforce that forgetting by verbalizing it. I know that this is easy to say, coming from someone who is secure, healthy, and well-fed. All the more reason for those of us who are blessed in every way, not to sound ungrateful before God.
     Now our text says that the people who did these things were either struck down, or fell, or were destroyed by serpents, or were destroyed by the destroyer. It is not clear who or what that is. The Devil, probably. The consistent element in all these deaths is that they are presented as the work of an external agent, God, or the perhaps the Devil, or snakes, brought about by the behavior, the evil acts of those who died.
     This is a dramatic, emphatic way of saying that certain behaviors can lead to spiritual death. There is a tendency in our time, when the Christian religion appears to be in retreat or decline, at least in this part of the world, to separate our Christian commitment from the rest of our lives, as a way of navigating through an uncertain non-Christian environment. Then, perhaps, we find ourselves drifting into situations in which our Christian commitment is not evident and we risk weakening or even losing our connection to our spiritual life. We risk, in other words, spiritual death.
     What helps are available to us in this situation? For starters, there were the spiritual food and drink which were available to the people of the Exodus, which Paul says came from Christ. And Paul mentions our Christian spiritual food and drink, the cup of blessing which we bless, and the bread which we break. These help us to do what we pray for in today's Collect: "keep us both outwardly in our bodies, and inwardly in our souls, that we may be defended from all adversities which may happen to the body, and from all evil thoughts which may assault and hurt the soul."
     Furthermore, Paul says, "God is faithful, and he will not let you be tested beyond your strength." So the spiritual perils which Paul lists can be overcome, since we are not tempted beyond our powers, and those powers are strengthened by spiritual food.
     In tonight's Gospel, Our Lord is telling us, in effect, that no one is better than anyone else. We're all in this together. We don't know much about the incidents that Jesus is talking about, but we do know that he is using the same emphatic storytelling technique that Paul is using in his letter. The message is the same: we all risk spiritual death by letting ourselves forget what our real relationship to God is.
     It took me a while to understand why the parable of the barren fig tree is where it is in tonight's Gospel. It seems to be an oddly truncated item, dropped into this spot for no particular reason. It appears to end before its real ending -- it's missing a conclusion, and an explanation of its meaning.
      Perhaps we are in danger of becoming the barren fig trees in the garden, in danger of being cut down. And who is the gardener? Our Lord, of course, who is giving us another chance, another year, to make good use of the nourishment he is providing us, so that we will bear fruit, fruits of faith and good works. So, we have a year's reprieve! The parable reinforces the teaching of the first few lines of tonight's reading. Let us heed the warnings, and make good use of the opportunities we have been given!
      In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.

Laudemus viros gloriosos (Ecclesiasticus 44, Matthew 5, Revelation 7)

       In the Name..

      "Let us praise famous men, and our ancestors in their generation." The New Revised Standard Version of the Scriptures titles the 44th chapter of the book Ecclesiasticus, "The Hymn in Honor of our Ancestors." What a hymn it is, and what ancestors they are! And how different they are from all the saints!
     The first 14 verses list categories of ancestors. The remainder of the chapter, which is not part of today's reading, lists five prophets.
     The categories of ancestors are: firstly, "Those who ruled in their kingdoms, and made a name for themselves by their valor." That is, the first category includes kings who were not merely rulers, but also were brave, presumably in war. Those rulers, in other words, unlike our own, actually fought in their own wars.
     The next category: "Those who gave counsel because they were intelligent." (I appreciate the connection here between advice and intelligence -- quite unlike our own society, in which we hear of all sorts of counsellors, who are manifestly not intelligent,  "advising" the people and the leaders.)
     The third category: "Those who spoke in prophetic oracles." (We have oracles in our world too, warning us of our folly.)
     The fourth category: "Those who led the people by their counsels and by their knowledge of the peoples' lore." These are  people who remember history, custom, and law, and so we can call them lawyers and historians.
     The fifth: "Those who composed musical tunes."
     The sixth category: "Those who put verses in writing" -- poets, and perhaps writers in general -- storytellers.
     The seventh category, and the last in this list: "rich men."
     So, the honored ancestors of the writer of Ecclesiasticus are: kings, counselors, oracles, lawyers, historians, composers, poets, and rich men. The list apparently excludes women.
     Then this chapter takes an interesting turn. It says, "But of others there is no memory, they have perished as though they never existed." These others were not in the listed groups of famous men. They had no power, no special knowledge, no talent, no insight, and, worst of all perhaps, no money. The list, after all, begins with kings, and ends with rich men, and, in between, lists those who helped the kings and rich men rule their  societies. Not unlike society today, it seems to me. This arrangement is not accidental. But as for the unnamed others, they are extinct.
     Then our writer resumes his hymn of praise for the great ancestors: their "righteous deeds have not been forgotten;" their wealth will remain;" "their descendants stand by the covenants;" their offspring will continue forever;" "their name lives on."
     But that's all that lives on. Verse 14 says, "their bodies are buried in peace, but their name lives on generation after generation." The names of the famous ancestors are all that live on.
     The reading stops here, at verse 14, but I think that it should include verse 15, which divides that chapter between the general list of ancestors, and the named prophets that follow. Verse 15 says, "the assembly declares their wisdom, and the congregation proclaims their praise." Ecclesiasticus is telling us here what wisdom is, in his view, and what is important: power, talent, creativity, knowledge, insight, wealth, being remembered in history. Our writer knows that this is wisdom, because the assembly says so. And we, in our world, admire and value these things too, and we tell each other all the time, in our assemblies and outside our assemblies, how important they are.
     But Jesus, in today's Gospel, has a very different list of who, and what, are important."Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven." Very different from the brave kings in Ecclesiasticus, and a very different idea of the Kingdom. Jesus does not casually place the "poor in spirit" at the beginning of his list, the list we call 'The Beatitudes.' The kings in Ecclesiasticus are full of their own power and strength, and evidently don't need anything but the approval of other important people. But the "poor in spirit" are open instead to God's power, and can enter his Kingdom, which includes not merely this world but the next, not merely earthly prosperity and success, but also the transformation of this world into the new heaven and the new earth which John speaks of in the Revelation.
     We can sort the Beatitudes into two groups. The first group lists those who lack: the poor in spirit lack God, or at least, lack any idea of themselves as especially favored by God. Those who mourn have lost loved ones to death. The meek lack earthly status. Those who hunger and thirst after righteousness lack the accomplishment of their desire for justice in this world. The next three Beatitudes are very  different: blessed are the merciful, the pure in heart, and the peacemakers. They appear not to lack, as the first group does, but  have attained  spiritual awareness and maturity.
     The contrast between the Beatitudes and the list of famous men in Ecclesiasticus is striking. The famous men are admired for their power, wealth, and so on, and their posterity in this world. The blessed of the Beatitudes have none of this worldly success.
     It seems to me that the blessed of the Beatitudes are the unremembered dead of Ecclesiasticus. The unremembered dead have nothing and are nothing that the famous men would know or care about. The unremembered dead are the meek of the Beatitudes. They are those who mourn, who lost their children and so have no posterity in this world. Those who hunger and thirst after righteousness are those who are exploited by the kings and the rich, and manipulated by the counselors and the lawyers and others who work for the powerful. Jesus is including all these in the Kingdom.
     There is nothing in the Beatitudes to exclude those in the list in Ecclesiasticus. In the end, Jesus does not distinguish between the famous and the unknown, between powerful people and powerless, between those with posterity and those without it. But he is reminding us, and his hearers, that there is more to the Kingdom than the rather meager list of worthies in Ecclesiasticus.
     "Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness' sake, for theirs is the Kingdom of Heaven." "Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account." These last two Beatitudes are about persecution, reminders of what can happen, what does happen and has happened, when Jesus's hearers live according to his teachings. Persecution is possible, even likely, when people begin to live in such a way that the comfortable rulers of this world feel threatened by the coming of the new Kingdom, in which the unremembered dead, the blessed, are just as important as they are, or more important.
     Notice the turn here. The two lists talk about people in the third person, about someone else, somewhere else. But Jesus, in the last Beatitude, says "Blessed are you!" "Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you!" He moves from the third person to the second person, addressing his hearers, and us, directly. And he follows this with a command: "Rejoice, and be glad, for great is your reward in Heaven!" Jesus is telling his hearers, and us, that we are in good company, for "in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you!" Notice whose company we are NOT in: the famous men and ancestors of Ecclesiasticus. Their satisfaction with their worldly success is not the blessedness, the happiness, which Jesus is telling us is our true happiness.
     Today's reading from the 7th chapter of the Revelation to John shows us where this teaching is leading us. There is even an list of people in this reading, not clearly stated, but it is there. The people in this story are, firstly, God's servants, among whom are, secondly, the 144,000 who are sealed on their foreheads -- they are sealed with the unpronounceable name of God, YHWH, which we call the Tetragrammaton, and, thirdly, the vast throng from every nation, all the saints. All of them, however, belong to one group, as verse 14 says: "These are they who have come out of the great ordeal; they have washed their robes and made them white in the blood of the Lamb." This is the great vision of our destiny, to worship before the throne of God, in the new heaven and the new earth. Jesus in the Beatitudes, and John in the Revelation, are leading us, and all the saints, to the Lamb and to the throne, to the springs of the water of life.
     
      In the Name etc.. Amen.

Veni, Emmanuel

Homily preached on the Vigil of the Fourth Sunday of Advent. Revelation in reverse.
      In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.
      Today, the eve of the fourth, the last Sunday of Advent, is a good time to review what we have heard in the Sunday readings for the season. There is a repeated proclamation of the Lord's coming, repeated calls to prepare, and finally, in tonight's and tomorrow's readings, the near approach of the Lord.
     On the first Sunday of Advent, the prophet Jeremiah proclaims, "Says the Lord...I will cause a righteous Branch to spring up for David, and he shall execute justice and righteousness in the land." And the Apostle prays, in his First Letter to the Thessalonians, that the Lord "so strengthen your hearts in holiness that you may be blameless before our God and Father at the coming of our Lord Jesus with all his saints." Paul is talking about the Second Coming, the Parousia, stating right at the beginning one of the themes of the season. Another theme of course is the approach of the Incarnation, the First Coming or Advent of the Lord. The righteous Branch of David, the coming of Israel's King in the flesh, is proclaimed by Jeremiah, and Paul states the second theme, the Second Advent. The readings for Advent pursue these parallel expectations.
     All the Gospel readings for this season are from Luke. The first Sunday Gospel comes from toward the end of Luke, the 21st chapter, in which Jesus proclaims the coming of the Son of Man. Again the emphasis on the Second Coming.
     On the 2nd Sunday of Advent, in the book of the prophet Malachi, the Lord of Hosts says, "See, I am sending my messenger to prepare the way before me, and the Lord whom you seek will suddenly come to his temple." While Jeremiah proclaims the coming of a king to Israel, Malachi proclaims that the Lord will come to his Temple, like a priest. And Paul, in his letter to the Philippians, expects, in the future, the Day of Jesus Christ. Paul expects his people to be pure, blameless, righteous, in preparation for that day.
     In Luke's Gospel, in the third chapter this time, for the 2nd Sunday of Advent, we hear from John the Baptist, who quotes Isaiah, proclaiming that "all flesh shall see the salvation of God." Again the emphasis on preparation: "Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight."
     Zephania, the prophet whom we read on the 3rd Sunday of Advent, says "Sing aloud, O Daughter of Zion, shout O Israel, rejoice and exult with all your heart, O Jerusalem!" This is something of a change in tone in the prophetic readings -- not a warning, not just an announcement of an impending change -- but a command to get out and party, and to do that as loudly as possible. This fits well with the Apostle's exhortation in his Letter to the Philippians: Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, rejoice...do not worry about anything...the Lord is near."
     The Gospel for the 3rd Sunday, however, reverts to a sterner tone. John the Baptist says, "You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath to come? Bear fruit worthy of repentance." Again, a warning, an exhortation to John's hearers to change their ways, in preparation for the arrival of "one who is more powerful than I."
     So far, on the first three Sundays, we have heard the proclamation of the Lord's arrival as king, priest, and judge. We have been exhorted to "clean up our act" -- to be blameless, pure, to bear the fruits of repentance, to deal with each other honestly, all in preparation for the great day. And, last Sunday, we are commanded to "sing aloud," "rejoice," "exult."
     And we arrive at the 4th Sunday of Advent, with these proclamations and exhortations and commands ringing in our ears. From the prophet Micah we hear, "But you, O Bethlehem of Ephrathah...from you shall come forth...one who is to rule Israel." The proclamation of the One who is to come, the Branch of David, the Lord, the King of Israel, has become particular, local, centered on a particular place. And from tonight's Gospel, which is also the Gospel for the Feast of the Visitation, we hear that the birth of the promised one is imminent. Now we know from where, and when, the promised one is to come.
     It seems to me that the Gospels for this season have presented 'revelation in reverse!' We heard Jesus proclaiming his Second Advent at the beginning of the season, then John the Baptist proclaiming the Lord's near approach. John the Baptist does not sound like he's expecting the Lord to arrive in the form of a baby. And tonight's Gospel takes us back even further in time, before the birth of either John or Jesus. It is interesting that this season of Advent, a season of anticipation of future events, actually moves backward through time, from the promise of the Second Coming, to a time before the First Coming.
     We move backwards, as it were, from the general to the particular, from a long term view of events, to a particular, local event. We move from grand, sometimes alarming, statements about future events, and what we must do to prepare for them, to a very local, individual event, the First Advent of the Lord. This particularity, this localism, is important to understanding this season, it seems to me.
     Our faith and worship are not merely about grand generalities and the glorious future that awaits us. Our faith and worship are also about one Person, our Lord, and our relationship to him in the here and now. Today's Gospel, about the approaching births of John the Baptist and Jesus, bring us to earth in a very real, personal, local event. Our anticipation of the Second Coming is grounded in the realism, the localism, if you will, of the First Coming. The Gospel does not allow us to get lost in anticipation of a possibly remote future event, but requires us to focus on the imminence of an event in the world we know -- now, for us, an event in the historical past whose consequences still affect the world we live in. The Epistle for today, from the Letter to the Hebrews, reinforces this by bringing to mind the sacrifice of Christ, also a very real this-world event, also, historically speaking, an event in our past, with this-world consequences. As Christians, we live between the two Advents of our Lord, understanding the sacrificial nature of the life which gives meaning to them. We pray in the holy eucharist to be united to Christ in his sacrifice, that, at his Second Coming, all things will be subject to him.
      In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti. Amen.

Inheriting Eternal Life (Mark 10)

      In Nomine etc..

      "Good teacher, what must I do to inherit eternal life?" This is a real question, asked by a genuine seeker, to use a modern word, of a well-known traveling teacher. In our time, there are numbers of traveling teachers willing to tell us how to inherit eternal life, or attain enlightenment, or discover wisdom, and most of them expect to be paid for the information. In our story in today's Gospel, a payment is indeed demanded, but the teacher is not the intended beneficiary. Although the focus of the story appears to be money and the attitude of the rich man to it, the details of the story actually lead us elsewhere in a search for what Jesus is telling us here.
     Notice what Jesus says first. He replies with another question: "Why do you call me good?" He is deflecting the rich man's courteous, respectful approach. Also, it is standard rabbinical technique to answer a question with another question. It returns the questioner to himself, perhaps to seek his answer within, and not necessarily to look for a solution outside himself, to evade having to think for himself. Then Jesus goes on to say, "You know the commandments," and  recites six of them. The questioner appears to be looking for the obvious, pat, conventional answer: follow the standard, universal moral code, the Ten Commandments, and everything will be fine. The rich man says, "Teacher, I have kept all these since my youth." No doubt he expects Jesus to say, "Then you will inherit eternal life. No problem. Nothing to worry about. Next question."
     But that is not what Jesus does. The Gospel says, "Jesus, looking at him, loved him, and said, You lack one thing: go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven; then come, follow me."
     Jesus, looking at him, loved him. Loved him! Jesus looked at him and loved him. This is a remarkable sentence. There is a lot of meaning, a lot of insight, behind these words, a meaning of which I have had only a glimmer. Perhaps we, at one time or another, have encountered another person who saw us, really saw us, really saw us, knew us, loved us as we were. It is a description of an enlightened spiritual guide. I know that not everyone has this experience, but it is at least possible. Between the seer and the seen there is no filter or barrier or misunderstanding. Between the two there is real awareness, attention, affection, love. That is what is happening here, in a flash, between Jesus and the rich man. Jesus saw him, heard him, knew him, loved him, and knew immediately what was needed.
     Go, sell what you own, and give the money to the poor, and come, follow me. Now, notice what is happening here. We hear, the rich man hears, nothing in this command of the standard, universal moral code. This is not one of the Ten Commandments. And there is, furthermore, nothing in this of what a good Episcopalian, or anyone else, would regard as prudent, responsible management of money and property. What then can we make of this sudden change of tone, from a plodding repetition of well-known rules, to a radical demand to the rich man that he turn his way of life upside down?
     It appears that there is a progression here. Jesus is telling his questioner that his basic work , his preparatory work, is done. He has fulfilled the Commandments. He has done what the moral code has required of him. He has done what God and society have expected, he has successfully completed his rudimentary education in Life, and it is time for him to move on. It is time for him to experience what we may call the paradox of success: that having succeeded in meeting the requirements, the expectations of God, society, family, school, career, and so on, it is now time for him to recognize that he no longer needs them, that he can pass his earthly treasures on to others who do need them, and free himself for new work to which Jesus is calling him. Success has freed him from the need to be successful in this world.
      "Give the money to the poor, and you will have treasure in heaven!" Treasure in heaven. We've heard this phrase many times. What does it mean? Is it just a metaphor for all the good things we do in this world, which God, or St Peter, or angels appointed to the task, remember and record to our credit, which we can draw on when we appear at the gates of heaven, to pay for our admission? I suggest that 'treasure in heaven' is not about heavenly bookkeeping, but about something else entirely, not about quantity, but about freedom from quantity. Treasure on earth is what we keep. Treasure in heaven is what we give away. Treasure in heaven is freedom even from the need to keep track of what we have, and what we have given away. Treasure in heaven is the freedom to accept Jesus's invitation to follow him.
     Well, we know what happened next. "When the rich man heard this, he was shocked, and went away grieving, for he had many possessions." Jesus saw that the rich man was ready for the next phase in his life, but the man himself did not see it, or, if he did, the insight was too much for him. Now, we wonder, why was he shocked? What was the shock, exactly? And why was he grieving? For what was he grieving? The obvious suggestion is that he feared losing his possessions, and that would be an understandable fear. But I think the shock was the realization of something else: the realization of the choice before him. He saw himself clearly, perhaps for the first time. Rooted in his identity, his conventional role and success, in his possessions, he had been given a glimpse of eternal life, of the freedom which is the real basis, the real nature of eternal life, and he recoiled from it, not because he didn't want it, but because the choice, the action required, was so sudden, so stark, and so irrevocable. Perhaps we all would be shocked, if we could catch a glimpse of ourselves in the light of eternity.
     Now, he went away grieving. We grieve for a loss like death, or for a friendship ruined by misunderstanding, for a career wiped out by economic change or, these days, by the pandemic, and so on. The man in our story went away grieving -- what had he lost? Not his possessions -- he still had them, apparently. Most of them, anyway. I think that there is one possession that he did lose: a certain idea of Jesus and himself, when Jesus did not simply confirm the rich man's understanding of himself and his place in the scheme of salvation. He had lost the assurance of eternal life by obedience to the known, stated rules. The "good teacher" had knocked the supports out from under his self-image, and he could not get it back. As far as our story goes, anyway.
     We do not know that the rich man did not eventually follow Jesus's advice. We do know that Jesus emphasized the difficulty that many possessions create for those who want to enter the Kingdom of God. And then the disciples ask a very odd question: "Then who can be saved?" Now, most people, past and present, were not and are not rich. The disciples could not have meant that everyone is so rich that they can't enter the Kingdom. But the disciples are getting at something which we need to pay attention to.
     Jesus lists, toward the end of the reading, what the "possessions" are that can get in our way: house, brothers, sisters, mother, father, children, fields -- only "house" and "fields" come close to the wealth we were thinking of at the beginning of today's Gospel. But, clearly, family relations are "wealth" too. Now we are seeing further in, as it were, to just how radical Jesus is. He wants to replace one family with another, our earthly family with our new family in the Kingdom of God, and our earthly houses and fields with new ones in the Kingdom. No wonder the rich man is grieving -- not only his properties and money, but also his entire family -- the whole works -- everything has to go.
     It is the possibility of freedom in God which prompted the rich man to ask his question in the first place. The fact that the answer shocked him means that he understood some truth, at least partially -- the shock and grief were the beginnings of his liberation, not necessarily signs of his retreat from it. The progression in this story from following external commandments in order to obtain a heavenly reward, to renunciation of earthly attachments in order to experience true freedom in God, is a path which we are all invited to follow.
      In Nomine etc..