St. Mary’s Episcopal Church

Happy Easter! It is truly a joy to be with you all today as we gather together to celebrate the Resurrection of our Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ. But before we talk about that, we need to talk about something else. We need to talk about Christmas. Christmas? Just bear with me for a moment.

Christmas is the celebration of the Incarnation, that is, when God became human. Incarnation means enfleshment, when God took on flesh, when Divinity came down to be in humanity so fully that God actually became a person. God made us. God made all creation, it was all good. When God made humans, there was something special about them. God placed God’s very image onto people. God wanted this close relationship with us, but we turned away from Him, we strayed, we got far away from God. We neglected, we rejected, we abused that image of God in each other and in ourselves. We, who were made in God’s image, the God who is love, were implanted with that, and did not live up to the expectations that one would expect for a creature made in God’s image.

So God wanted to reconcile us, and God tried all kinds of ways to get us to come back to Him. And finally God said, I will go out there to the people to achieve reconciliation. And that is the Incarnation, God going to us in humanity. But it is not just the birth of Jesus that is the Incarnation. It is just the beginning of it that we celebrate on the Feast of Christmas. The Incarnation is Jesus’s whole life. It is the fact that he was a vulnerable baby nursing at his mother. It was the fact that he was a surly teenager who made his parents worry. It was the fact that he had work to do in this world. It is the fact that he embraced humanity so fully that he enjoyed all the things we enjoy. Jesus liked a good party. That is one of the chief criticisms of him by his opponents. They said he ate too much and drank too much. He was a glutton and a drunkard, they said. To fully enter humanity he enjoyed all that, but he also had to enter into the suffering and the pain, the agony and the disappointment, the loneliness and the abandonment. He went to the cross on Good Friday, which is a profound implication of what it means to become human. For God to enter into humanity, God had to go down unto death. Not just any death, not a calm, peaceful death, but the worst kind of death that was imaginable. In the crucifixion, God would fully enter into the suffering that we experience in this world.

All of the Incarnational stuff from Christmas to Good Friday is the first part of what God is doing to reconcile humanity to God. God is going to humanity in its fullness. This is Part I.

Today is the beginning of Part II, the Resurrection. This is God coming up. This is God saying that death does not get the final word. While God went to humanity, embracing everything we experience, in the Resurrection and on to the Ascension, that human Jesus is now going back up into divinity, and pulling us along with him. Before he died, Jesus, in John’s Gospel, says, I will lift up all people unto me.

These two things, the Incarnation and the Resurrection, are working together to bring us back into full relationship, to be reconciled fully to God, the God who is love. Imagine a wound on a body and the surgeon sutures it by going down and up and down and up to pull the skin back together to heal that wound. That is what God is doing in the Incarnation and the Resurrection. God goes down to pull us up, to bring us back together, to bridge that gap, to allow the wound to heal.

So we celebrate, not just that Jesus Christ is risen, but we celebrate this amazing work of reconciliation that God is trying to achieve in this world through Jesus. We have Part II and Part II.

And there is a Part III. That is the part where we, who by virtue of our baptism died with Christ and we rose with Christ, are invited to engage in that work of reconciliation. To draw close to others, and to love. To embody that original vision and dream that God had when He implanted us with God’s image. To live in a world in which we have healing and unity and reconciliation. It is not easy work. It feels like it is harder work than ever. We are isolated from each other by technology, politics, and culture that pull us apart. But God is inviting us to a different way, a way to pull close to each other, and to love.

When the surgeon stitches up the wound, that is not the end of the project, that is when the healing begins. That is the work that we are engaged in at this time. We have a God who so loves and adores us that God came here in the Incarnation so that no matter how much we strayed, God would find us. No matter how far we went away, God would come to where we were and pull us in, and invite us to be healed and to help heal. In the name of the risen Christ, God invites us to be incarnate, to be resurrected, to help reconcile this world in love.

AMEN.

Let us pray: Come Lord Jesus, be with us in our grief as you accompanied Mary and Martha and all who mourned. Speak through these words and call us to new life in you. Amen.

In this season of Lent, as we consider our own mortality, “remember that you are dust and to dust you shall return,” as we journey with Jesus toward Jerusalem, crucifixion and death, it’s a very fitting time to talk about life and death, to talk about grieving and loss, both individual and collective. During this three-plus year period of the COVID pandemic, we have accumulated SO many losses that it may be hard to even keep track of them all. Many have gone unacknowledged, these life events that have been postponed, diminished, or simply dismissed. Funerals have been put off, we have been reduced to saying our last goodbyes on Zoom, or even worse, unable to say goodbye or to be with loved ones as they died, or after they died, such heartache and immense sorrow. Weddings have been postponed, the important people in our lives yearning but not able to be present, in-person celebrations have been cancelled, we have missed out on the joy of welcoming new babies, birthdays have been missed, no embracing, no rejoicing, many important milestones have gone uncelebrated. And for our young people: no high school proms, no final sports seasons, quinceañeras, birthday celebration sleepovers, play dates, summer camps, and on and on and on.

We have LOTS to grieve. And each and every one of these events missed, diminished, or postponed, are worthy of recognition. They are losses. Things that we longed for that never happened. And it is right and a good and healthy thing to name them, and grieve their loss. Yes, after three plus years, we all have much sorrow and loss in our lives. This is our new reality.

Today’s gospel story is all about loss and grief. This great story about Mary, Martha, and Lazarus shows us how Jesus enters into our lives, into our emotions. Jesus is present with Mary and Martha and everyone who knew Lazarus who are grieving his death. Jesus enters this space that is full of sorrow and loss. And Jesus is moved. John tells us two times that he was “greatly disturbed” and “deeply moved.” Jesus weeps at the loss of his friend Lazarus. Jesus wept at the pain and sorrow that this loss brought his sisters and his community. Jesus hurt. Jesus felt the sting of the death of a close friend. Jesus is our example of the acceptability, of the appropriateness, of the healthy aspect, of grieving losses in our lives. Jesus loved his friend Lazarus and his sisters Mary and Martha and it hurt him that Lazarus had died. Jesus KNOWS our grieving. Jesus knows our losses and Jesus mourns with us in our pain and sorrow. Ours is a God who is intimately acquainted with the pain of being human and suffering losses.

In our lives, we face heartache and pain. Jesus knows. He enters into it with us, present with us, accompanying us through it all. And Jesus reminds us that there is hope, there is light, and that there can and will be joy again. Yes, we mourn our losses as we should, this is healthy and helpful, AND we find hope to carry us forward in the words of Jesus whose love is more powerful than death itself: “I am the resurrection and the life. Those who believe in me, even though they die, will live, and everyone who lives and believes in me will never die.” Love has the final word. Love conquers even death itself. The power of God is at work in our world resurrecting, recreating and renewing, bringing new life.

Together we look for this pattern of God at work in our lives and in our world, resurrecting, unbinding, calling forth new life all around us.

“Lazarus, come forth!” “Unbind him!”

Our lives are made up of this tension between grief and hope, loss and new life, sorrow and resurrection. This is Lent and Easter. This is humanity and divinity. This is the Paschal mystery, the awful death and the glorious resurrection of our redeemer and sustainer, Jesus the Christ.

There is a note about funerals in our book of common prayer that sums us the duality of our sorrow and hope quite well. It reads:

The liturgy for the dead is an Easter liturgy. It finds all meaning in the resurrection. Because Jesus was raised from the dead, we too, shall be raised. The liturgy, therefore, is characterized by joy, in the certainty that "neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord." This joy, however, does not make human grief unchristian. The very love we have for each other in Christ brings deep sorrow when we are parted by death. Jesus himself wept at the grave of his friend. So, while we rejoice that one we love has entered into the nearer presence of our Lord, we sorrow in sympathy with those who mourn.

Siblings in the compassionate love and understanding of Jesus, may you grieve and mourn your losses this Lent and in the seasons to come, remembering with love and affection those people, places and things that you have lost, may you know deep in your hearts that none of us can ever be separated from God’s love, and may your eyes and hearts be open to the hope of resurrection, rebirth, and new life in the world all around us.

Amen.

 I’ve been there, or at least I think I have if the Biblical scholars and archeologists are correct. On my trip to the Holy Land in 2014 we stopped at Jacob’s well, which is located near the city of Nablas in the occupied territory of Palestine. In the late 1800’s a Greek Orthodox church was built around it, so these days the well is to be found in a very small room the walls of which are covered with icons, paintings, and a display of souvenirs for sale behind a small counter. We drew water from the well and sampled it. I remember being surprised at how cold it was. Still, even after tasting the water I had to close my eyes to try to picture the well out in the open on a hot sunny day with a man sitting next to it waiting for someone to come along who could draw him water. The man in my mind’s eye of course was Jesus, while the woman who eventually did come by remains nameless like many women in the Bible, and so is known to us simply as the Samaritan woman or sometimes the woman at the well.

 It’s hard for me to imagine how this woman must have felt at finding a strange man sitting by the well, a man who upon speaking to her turned out to be a Jew. Her surprise at the situation notwithstanding, the woman did converse with Jesus, though initially that didn’t go terribly well. As in conversations Jesus had with Nicodemus, a well-educated Pharisee and member of the Sanhedrin, to those he had with his disciples who traveled with him and on some levels knew him well, what Jesus said to the woman and what she heard were definitely not the same thing. If you knew with whom you are speaking you would ask me for water and I would give you living water and you would never be thirsty again. Well, by all means give me some so I don’t have to keep coming here to draw water. Jesus offers her eternal life and the woman hears a way to get out of one of her more onerous daily tasks. But does that really surprise us? Who, coming here for the first time, really understands everything that is said and done? Throughout the Gospels we hear of many occasions where the things Jesus is reported to have said to people weren’t all that clear to his listeners upon first hearing. But as during his conversation with Nicodemus, Jesus doesn’t lose patience with the woman in today’s reading, or dismiss her for her lack of understanding. Rather he shifts the conversation to talking about her, and she realizes then that this is no ordinary man. We watch her surprise at a Jewish man speaking to her in the first place morph into confusion at what he had to say then change to amazement when he’s able to tell her so much more about herself than would seem reasonable. She senses she’s speaking with a prophet. What an effective way to connect with someone, talk with them about things they know, and nothing’s going to be more familiar to anyone than themselves. Once a connection has been made, the person may be better able to hear and internalize topics more abstract, more spiritual in nature. Indeed, Jesus and the woman do go on to briefly discuss the Jewish versus Samaritan perspectives on where the faithful should worship. Once again the woman doesn’t fully understand all of what Jesus is saying, but she does declare that she knows the Messiah is coming to which Jesus replies, I am he, the one who is speaking to you. Before we have a chance to hear how the woman responds to this remarkable declaration, or even to make certain that she actually heard what Jesus said, the disciples show up, having gone to town for food. At that point the woman, maybe feeling a bit overwhelmed by a whole group of Jewish men, leaves her water jar and goes back to the city.

 It is in the city that the most important action of this story takes place. The woman could have kept what she had just experienced to herself, fearing people might condemn her for talking with a strange man, no less a Jew. Or she might have kept silent worried they would think she was crazy if she shared the conversation she’d just had with this stranger by the well. Yes, she could have kept silent but she didn’t. Instead she said to everyone she encountered, Come and see a man who has told me everything I have ever done! Furthermore, we learn that she did hear what Jesus said at the end of their conversation because she adds, He can’t be the Messiah, can he? The story concludes by telling us that initially the people believed this man was special because of what the woman told them, but after encountering Jesus personally they were sufficiently moved by what he had to say that they invited him to stay with them, which he did for two days. By the time he left it was no longer because of what the woman had told them but rather because of what they experienced themselves while in Jesus’ presence that led them to believe that indeed this man truly was the Savior of the world.

 During Epiphany Bingham preached about how early in Jesus ministry John the Baptist effectively lent his credibility to Jesus. At the time Jesus came to John to be baptized John was famous and had a large following. By telling his followers that this is the man I’ve been telling you about, you need to follow him, John effectively jump started Jesus’ earthly ministry. As Bingham explained, it was a matter of John saying to his followers you trust me and I trust him, so I’m asking you to trust him too. Bingham described that as the heart of evangelism. We see the same sort of thing happening in events in today’s Gospel with one huge difference. John was a well-known, flamboyant religious figure of his day. Of course he could influence what people did. So could Billy Graham or +Desmond Tutu. I remember hearing Bishop Ladehoff describe how moved he was when he heard Graham preach at one of his revivals. I remember how Bingham responded when he was interviewing for the assistant priest’s position here at St. Mary’s and someone asked him when he first sensed that he wanted to be a priest. He replied that it was when he was thirteen years old after hearing Desmond Tutu speak. There have unquestionably been countless people down through time who have become followers of Jesus or whose Christianity was immeasurably deepened by encountering a charismatic Christian leader. However, I would submit that many more people have come to know Jesus because of interactions with ordinary Christians.

 Which brings us back to the woman in today’s Gospel. This nameless Samaritan was an ordinary woman, her rather unusual marital history notwithstanding, which should be both a comfort and a challenge to us, because it shows that an ordinary person, most likely far from perfect, could make a difference in other people’s lives. Her testimony led many people from her city to go out to see Jesus and to then invite him to stay with them, which he did. In the end they believed in him because they listened to Jesus, but the only reason they encountered Jesus in the first place was because of the woman’s invitation to “Come and see this man who told me everything I have ever done.”

 Rather than living as faithful Episcopalians are notorious for doing, keeping our church involvement totally to ourselves because we’re worried the people who know us in other settings will think less of us somehow if they find out we’re people of faith, we need to be open to those moments when it seems appropriate to say Come and see…. Come make sandwiches with me on Saturday. You’ll be amazed how many other people will be there doing the same thing. Come to Journey Fellowship with me Sunday, it’s really fun. Why don’t you bring your kids to church this week and they can go to Sunday School with our kids. See how they like it. Maybe your friends will come, maybe they won’t. Maybe they’ll come once and then bow out. Or maybe, just maybe, they’ll find a connection here that will bring them back long enough to develop a faith every bit as deep as your own.

 I will never forget Sunday, February 6, 2011. That was the day after the two Mr. Axemen candidates were swept into the ocean near Yachats and drowned. After coming together in horrified disbelief midday on Saturday and spending the rest of the day and the night together, the high school students from South who belonged to St. Mary’s brought their friends to church with them on Sunday morning. There were two full pews of young people sitting right over there, two full pews of utterly devastated young people. The nonmembers of St. Mary’s didn’t come back as far as I know, but I sincerely believe that they’ll remember for the rest of their lives the time they spent here that Sunday, first in church for the service itself and then with Bingham after the service. Who knows, years from now, maybe at another crushingly difficult moment in their lives when they don’t know where else to turn for help, or when they’ve started a family and realize they want their children to experience something of what they remember experiencing here that day long ago, they’ll decide they need to come back to St. Mary’s and they’ll bring their family with them. If that happens it will be because they had high school friends who weren’t afraid to invite them to come to church when those friends believed church was where they all most of all needed to be. They would come back because they had friends, like the woman at the well, who were willing to say, Come, Come and see….. Amen.

A couple of months ago in the middle of January, in early Epiphany, there were a couple of weeks when we heard Gospel readings about the first disciples, how they encountered Jesus for the first time, and how they came to follow him. The portrait of these early disciples that the Gospels painted for us is one rather enthusiastic bunch. It does not take much for them to leave everything behind, families, jobs, responsibilities, and go and follow Jesus. There was a little bit of reticence in Nathaniel when he first heard about Jesus from Phillip. From Nazareth? Really? Can anything good come out of Nazareth? But Phillip said, come and see, and as soon as Nathaniel met Jesus, he also left everything and followed Jesus.

The portrait that the Gospels paint of the enthusiasm to follow Jesus does not translate into an enthusiasm to actually listen to Jesus. Like when Peter pulls Jesus aside and rebukes him for what he is teaching, and Jesus rebukes Peter right back. In the Gospel a few weeks ago up on the Mountain of Transfiguration we heard the voice say this is my beloved son with whom I am well pleased, listen to him. The disciples don’t do a very good job of this. The most epic failure of listening is at the cross. Jesus told them time and again he was going to have to die, and it’s going to be by a cross. It actually happens, and the disciples all disappear. There were a couple of disciples who hung back with Jesus, but the really enthusiastic ones, the first disciples we heard about in the Gospels, none of them stuck around. They abandoned him in that moment.

In our Gospel today we have the beginning of a different portrait about a different kind of disciple. It is about Nicodemus. Nicodemus is a man full of faith, he is a well respected community and religious leader, he is wealthy. He has been hearing about Jesus and is intrigued. He knows there is something about God going on in this, but doesn’t quite know what to make of it. So Nicodemus goes at night when it is dark so that people can’t see him. And, since this is John’s Gospel, light and dark are always a metaphor, so this also has something to do with Nicodemus’s internal sense, some sense of darkness in his confusion, his lack of understanding. He is looking for the light, the clarity. So he goes to Jesus by night and starts asking questions. Unlike those first disciples who it seems at Jesus’s first word were ready to leave everything, Nicodemus isn’t so sure. He asks more questions, he probes, but those beautiful lines from Jesus don’t set right with him. He leaves the conversation. He is not quite sure what he makes of Jesus at this point.

Fast forward several chapters, and Jesus, in John’s Gospel, goes back and forth between Galilee and Jerusalem. But now Jesus is back in Jerusalem, where Nicodemus lives, for the Festival of Booths. Jesus is teaching and people are coming to him and begin referring to him as the Messiah. This is getting the leaders scared, understandably so, because their understanding of the Messiah is someone who will lead an armed rebellion against their oppressor. If they get this wrong about who the Messiah is, it will not be good for them because Rome will come and squash the movement. The leaders don’t want to jump behind someone they are not convinced is the Messiah. So the leaders, who are quite unhappy, want to do something about Jesus. They have made up their mind he is not the Messiah. They want him arrested and are upset it hasn’t happened yet. Nicodemus is one of these leaders. He doesn’t give a full throated defense of Jesus. It is like he sticks his toe in the water to defend Jesus. Nicodemus asks, doesn’t he at least deserve a trial? Shouldn’t there be some due process. This is the bare minimum, and even that effort gets the leaders to turn on Nicodemus. They say no, what are you talking about? We don’t need a trial. We already know the answer. He is obviously not the Messiah, and this is going to be bad for us. Besides, he is from Galilee. Are you from Galilee, Nicodemus? They are trying to pin guilty by association on him just for requesting a trial. Nicodemus is getting the point that it will be dangerous for him to be a follower of Jesus.

Let’s fast forward again. Jesus goes back to Galilee, then returns to Jerusalem, this time for the Festival of Passover, which also happens to be when he goes to the cross and he dies. All of those super enthusiastic Disciples have all run away, but who is there? Nicodemus. When push comes to shove, he shows up and he does the right thing. He brings a hundred Roman pounds, about thirty-four pounds as we understand it today, of perfumes and oils to anoint Jesus’s body in preparation for burial. This is an extravagant amount, which shows Nicodemus’s wealth, but it also shows his affection, his care, his love for Jesus. This is more than the bare minimum that he now offers. He is signaling to everybody that he is a follower of Jesus.

We have these two portraits of different Disciples. The super enthusiastic ones and the reticent ones. I’m not trying to suggest that one is better than the other, I simply want to say that there are different paths that a follower of Jesus can take. If you are like St. Peter and are one of those super enthusiastic ones, God bless you. That is wonderful. I think it’s fantastic. But do make sure you listen. Don’t let your enthusiasm get in the way of your listening like those other guys did. And if you find yourself a bit like me, more reticent at times, that’s OK, too. That is a good and valid path as well. One that is willing to continue to ask questions, to push and to wonder.

When push comes to shove, the important thing is where are we on Good Friday? In the end what really matters is not which path we take, but that we try our best to put our trust in God as we understand it in Jesus Christ, his Son. In the beautiful words we heard in the Gospel, God so loved the world that he gave his only Son so that everyone who trusts him may not perish, but have eternal life. Indeed, God did not send the Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world may be saved through him. In the end, it is about what Jesus does for us in God’s love that matters the most.

So keep trying to follow, enthusiastically or with reticence, joyfully or full of questions, or both at the same time. It’s all good because God loves you.

AMEN.

May this be in the name of our loving, liberating, life-giving God, Creator, Redeemer, and Sustainer. Amen.

Happy Third Sunday of Advent to you! This third Sunday is also known as Gaudete Sunday or Rose Sunday. The Episcopalchurch.org glossary provides more insight: Gaudete Sunday is: “The third Sunday of Advent…The term is derived from the Latin opening words of the antiphon, “Rejoice (Gaudete) in the Lord always.” The theme of the day expresses the joy of anticipation at the approach of the Christmas celebration…It was appropriate for the celebrant of the Mass to wear rose-colored vestments on this day instead of the deeper violet vestments that were typically used in Advent. This Sunday was also known as “Rose Sunday.” This custom is reflected by the practice of including a pink or rose-colored candle among the four candles of an Advent wreath. (https://www.episcopalchurch.org/glossary/gaudete-sunday/)

We don’t have any pink vestments here at St. Mary’s, but I’ve seen some pretty sweet looking ones in pictures online. But we do light our pink or rose-colored candle today and our theme is one of rejoicing. Rejoice in the Lord always! Again, I say, rejoice! We rejoice, as our collect says, in the bountiful grace and mercy with which our God comes among us to speedily help us and deliver us. And we rejoice in the powerful imagery of restoration provided by the prophet Isaiah.

The lost and dried-up areas of our lives, Isaiah tells us, will be made glad, the desert shall rejoice and new life will bloom, like crocuses sprouting up all over, singing songs as they pop their multi-colored blossoms out of dormant soil. This new joy will strengthen hands that have grown weak, and make wobbly knees sturdy. And people who are afraid will be encouraged to take heart, because God is here and comes to save.

Those who are blind will be able to see again, and those who can’t hear, their ears will be opened. People unable to stand will spring up and dance, and people who couldn’t speak will suddenly start talking up a storm of praise for the healing, restoring, and saving God.

What was a desert, will be filled with gushing water, streams and pools. Formerly arid land will now be abundant with fresh-flowing springs. And where there was no path through the dark and treacherous way, a wide, clear, smooth highway will appear, it will be named, “The Holy Way” and it will be for all of God’s people, and there won’t be any way to take a wrong turn and lose the path. All paths will lead to God’s loving care. No one will have to worry about any dangers on this path, it will be full of everyone who has been made whole, redeemed, and healed. And all those who had been sent away, or barred from entering, lost, or held back, will all join the path together singing and rejoicing in God’s healing way.

On their heads they’ll all have ten-gallon hats of joy that never fade, and they’ll be glad, oh so glad to be on this highway together, all of their sorrow and sighing long gone, blown away, forgotten for good. Woah!

These are the images that Isaiah provided for the people of Israel during the toughest of their times. These image of God’s restoration, protection, and abundant healing love to come. As it was for them in their despair and pain, so it is for us in ours, whatever it may be. During this season of Advent, we are called to look forward, to watch together for the coming of our loving God, for the outpouring of God’s love onto our fractured world, for the strength and encouragement for this journey on earth as we travel together, seeking the time, the place, the way of rejoicing foreshadowed in the coming of a young woman. A young woman pregnant and travelling, carrying her worries and concerns, our worries and concerns, pregnant with hope, with the expectation of the coming joy that this new birth, this special baby will bring.

John the Baptist new these images from Isaiah as he and others of his time watched and waited. And the life and ministry of this Christ child caused him to question and to ask if Jesus was the indeed one to come, the Messiah, or if they should keep watching and waiting. Jesus responds with echoes of the health and restoration foretold by Isaiah: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk,

the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them. What do you think? Look at God’s love in action in peoples’ lives, healing, and restoration. This is the one about whom it was written, ‘See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare the way before you.’ The Christ child born in Bethlehem comes to prepare the way for us ALL, to traverse the deserts of our lives, and through the bountiful grace and mercy of our loving God, to transform them. To transform them into oases. To transformed them into blooming new life. To transform them into strength. To transform them into new vision, new hearing, new speaking. To transform them into new joy and rejoicing.

Siblings in the hope and joy of Christ, let us travel this highway, this Holy Way together, confident in the redemption of our lives through the coming of the Christ child. Rejoice in the Lord always! Again I say, rejoice! Gaudete! Amen.

Let us pray: May these words bring encouragement, inspiration, and hope in the name of our loving God who was and is and is to come. Amen.

“Whatever was written in former days was written for our instruction, so that by steadfastness and by the encouragement of the scriptures we might have hope” (Romans 15:4). So that by steadfastness, or a “steady and unwavering course in love, allegiance, or conviction,” ( https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/steadfastness) and the encouragement of the scriptures, we might have hope. That we might have hope. Ooof, sometimes, in these times, it can be pretty tough to find, hold on to, hold out any, cling to, or have, hope. Things can get, and have gotten, pretty hopeless in our world today. I’m not going to even try and deny it. Whether in the deterioration of this fragile earth our island home, the polarization of our society and politics, the ongoing pandemic and war, increase in the number of people without houses, increase in the number of people suffering from addiction, increase in the number of people, especially young people, besieged with mental illness and contemplating suicide, to say nothing of the difficulty and complexity of our own families, friends, and relationships and the knots they wrap us up in. Life is hard. Life is messy. Family is complicated. Relationships with others and with ourselves are tough. And, it’s hard to stay hopeful. For some among us, the holidays can be the bleakest and toughest of times as they bring back past trauma, potential new trauma, and the bitter pain of the loss of loved ones. I invite you to be gentle and tender with yourselves and with others, remembering that the holidays are not all happy, joyful, and hopeful times for many people, and that’s OK. In our human lives here on this earth there are no simple, clearcut answers, no easy solutions to fix and tidy everything up, no bow to tie around it all. But…today’s lesson and this season of Advent, this season of waiting, and watching for what is to come, invite us to squint our eyes, turn our heads to the side, and open our ears, hearts and minds, to be encouraged and reminded by what happened in that tiny little town of Bethlehem so long ago. If ever there was a life-changing, awe-inspiring, hope-creating event, it has to be the birth of a new baby. A true miracle of life. The precious fragility, tiny perfection, and limitless possibilities to come, a new beginning, a new future, a new hope.

What Paul reminds us of today is that these stories, and our traditions at this dreary and cold time of the year, are meant as lights for us, guiding, encouraging, reminding us of what is to come, offering hope. The coming of God into our world in the form of a human baby, the Creator of the Universe incarnate, dwelling here among us, as one of us, has ENORMOUS and everlasting implications. And not just this single event of a baby’s birth, but beyond the manger, star, shepherds and angels, forward to the teaching, healing, status-quo upending, ultimate love-sacrificing life of Jesus, and the glorious love-over-death resurrection. In these stories of God’s love come down to earth, we find instruction, teaching for our lives, encouragement as we get to know and understand God’s dream for us and our world, and ultimately, hope. Hope that we so desperately need in our lives. Hope to get us through, hope that invites us to look toward the future, toward what is to come, to the advent of what God’s love will achieve in our world.

I wonder, in these times of Advent can we begin to imagine, to envision together the coming of God’s reign here on earth? God’s gracious rule, when and where, the prophet Isaiah tells us, a little green tendril will push up and grow and grow. And this new life, this messiah, the anointed one to come will bring justice to the poor and equity to those who are overlooked. In this advent, natural enemies, predator and prey will hang out together in harmony, wolves with lambs, leopards with goats, calves with lions, and a vulnerable little child will be the one to lead them all. And there will be no more hurting or destruction, because the whole earth will fully know God’s goodness and love, it will be inundated, soaked in it like the waters of the Pacific. This is certainly an awesome and amazing picture of the hope that is to come---advent.

And in this season, as we journey with Mary and Joseph, let us seek encouragement and hope in what has been written about the coming of the baby Jesus and in these future images of unity, peace, and harmony. Paul instructs us to do our part to usher in this dream of God, to kindle and grow this hope of what is to come, by doing our best to live in harmony with one another, by working to welcome one another the way that Christ welcomes us, with open and loving arms, shining the light of God’s hopeful, caring connectivity, on the desolation, hurt, and hopelessness of our world today. Where we do the best that we can to live in harmony with others, to see them as God sees them, to show them, as Jesus showed them: dignity, value, belovedness. Where we welcome one another as Christ has welcomed us, as children, adopted, invited, claimed, beloved. In so doing, we make God smile. And we join in helping bring about God’s loving plan for us. We bring hope. We offer hope. We live together in hope.

Siblings in Christ, prepare yourselves for the coming of Jesus. Take encouragement and regain hope from the stories of what has come, what is coming now, and what will come. Wait, and watch, and hope together this Advent for what is to come. And may the God of hope fill you with all joy and peace in believing, so that you may abound in hope by the power of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Today is the First Sunday of Advent, the first Sunday of a new season. Not only that, it is the first Sunday in the Church Year. So Happy New Year. I hope you had a big party last night, opened the bubbly, and watched the ball drop.

Advent is the start of our journey through the Church Year. It is a journey with Christ. A journey starting with his birth in the manger in Bethlehem, on to his baptism, on to his teaching and healing. We go with him to the mountain of transfiguration when he turned his face to Jerusalem. We come down with him and go with him to Jerusalem, through Good Friday and his death, on to Easter and his resurrection, and to his Ascension. In that practice of the Church Year, going through week by week and remembering his story, we are learning about his life more deeply. We, who are the Body of Christ, take time, half a year, going through Christ’s life so we can understand more deeply what it means to be his Body, to align our own bodies with his body.

We start that journey now on this First Sunday in Advent. The word advent means arrival, but not just any arrival. We don’t talk about the advent of the relatives at Thanksgiving. The word advent is for the kind of arrival that is big and transformative, like how historians talk about the advent of television that changed the world. Advent is that big sort of arrival. The arrival that we are preparing for during Advent is an even bigger one than that, and that is the advent, the arrival of Christ into this world, the Incarnation of God that changed everything.

During the season of Advent we are preparing for that arrival, but there is not just one Advent. There are three Advents going on, all at the same time. The first is what we might call the Historical Advent, the coming of Christ into the manger at Bethlehem. That’s the one most of our attention is focused on as we get ready for Christmas and all the wonderful ways we prepare by decorating our homes and our church with all the greens and decorations and the tree. We get all the gifts and cook all that wonderful food. All of these preparations are to celebrate Christ’s birth in Bethlehem. That is the first Advent, the Advent of History.

The second Advent we might call the Advent of the Future. That is when Christ will come again in great glory. Sometimes we call this the Second Coming, although you might get the idea from later in this sermon that the phrase Second Coming probably isn’t quite right for us to use. But it is a coming that is in the future. Your big theological term for the day is eschatological. The eschatological coming is the one way out there. This is the stuff of apocalypse and end times, but not the Rapture. Rapture is a popular word, but it is an idea that is less than two hundred years old, understood by a small minority of Christians who have very loud voices. People think the Rapture is a part of historic Christianity, but it is not. The fear created around Rapture theology is not what we are talking about when we talk about the eschatological second coming of Christ. Rather than calling it the Advent of the Future, I would like to call it the Advent of Hope. Because that is what we are looking towards, the moment when Christ will come back to restore, to make new, to bring justice where there has been injustice, to bring healing where there has been brokenness. That is what we are preparing for in Advent so that we can, in the words of the Eucharistic prayer, prepare for Christ to come without shame or fear. The eschatological Advent is not an advent of fear, it is not to scare us, it is meant to bring us hope. So we have the Advent of History, which brings us so much joy, and the Advent of the Future of hope.

The third Advent is the Advent of the Present, the Advent of Now, the arrival of Christ into our lives today. We are preparing ourselves, our hearts, our minds, and our souls, to recognize when Christ shows himself to us now. Keep awake, the Gospel said, not just for the eschatological Advent, but keep awake because right now Christ is coming into your life. We need to work to recognize him.

These three advents are not unrelated to each other. For instance, in a lot of the eschatological literature, the apocalyptic literature, it talks about Christ being a stranger. The reality is that we find Christ in the stranger today. In every person we welcome, Christ is present in them. The three Advents are all talking to each other. We celebrate and learn and find joy in the history, and we look forward in hope to the future because it is teaching us how to recognize Christ right now in the vulnerable, recognize Christ in justice and healing work, and recognize Christ in the person sitting next to you in the pew today. We are learning how to recognize Christ in all things.

So, my friends, this Advent season, decorate your homes, get the gifts ready, bake those cookies as important preparations for Christmas. But also prepare your hearts and minds and souls for the Advent of hope for the future, and recognize Christ’s presence with you right now, in this very moment, today.

AMEN.

May this be in the name of Jesus Christ, the King of kings, and Lord of lords.

Today marks the last Sunday of the Church year, the Last Sunday after Pentecost, also called The Feast of Christ the King. Today we focus on the return of Christ, when evil will be defeated and Jesus will begin his reign as King of kings. This feast day offers us a glimpse into the future glory of Jesus’ great victory. We can see the victorious Jesus on the cross which is found above our chapel altar. It is the Christus Rex, Christ the King, the figure of Christ robed and crowned and reigning from the cross. The Christus Rex cross is the earliest depiction of the Good Friday crucifixion, not emphasizing suffering and agony, but rather Christ the King of Easter triumph.

Throughout Jesus’ ministry on Earth, Jesus spoke of the Kingdom of God.

Imagine you are in Palestine when Jesus was proclaiming the Good News. You are not in one of the cities or large towns. You most likely haven’t ever seen a king or a Caesar. You know the stories of King David and King Solomon. They were heroic men, but flawed. In their kingdoms there was suffering and hunger, greed and deceit. One day, a stranger comes to your village and there’s much talk about it, about his teachings and his deeds. You go to the synagogue in curiosity, and you hear him teach about the kingdom of God. It is like yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour until all of it was leavened. And you leave the synagogue perplexed at its meaning.

Imagine you are one of Jesus’ chosen followers. You hear him teach and you hear parables about the Kingdom of God. You, too, are perplexed. Probably more than once, you understand nothing about all these things. Jesus tries to make the story clearer for you, but this is not a kingdom that you recognize, and you don’t like where it leads.

Imagine you are in Jerusalem on the day of Jesus’ crucifixion. You are close enough to hear Pontius Pilate interrogate Jesus. “Are you the King of the Jews? What have you done?” And Jesus replies: “My kingdom is not from this world. If my kingdom were from this world, my followers would be fighting to keep me from being handed over to the Jewish leaders. But as it is, my kingdom is not from here.”

Imagine you are at the crucifixion. It is now about noon, and darkness covers the whole earth until about three o’clock, and the sun has stopped shining. You see Jesus placed on a cross between two criminals, one on his right and one on his left. You are too far away to hear what Jesus is saying, but others hear, and everything Jesus says is repeated through the crowds. “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.” Who is he talking about? The two criminals? The Roman authorities? The Jewish leaders? Is he talking about you? Is he talking about me? Then one of the criminals turns to him and says, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” And Jesus replies: “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” Who is he talking to? Is he talking to that one criminal, or to both? Is he talking to you? Is he talking to me?

Imagine you are a member of the church in Colossae. There have been problems. There have been rival teachings by people who didn’t know Jesus, and who have been spouting new beliefs and religious practices that compete with the gospel. A letter from Paul arrives, encouraging the members of your church to “be made strong” and to “be prepared to endure everything with patience.” You are told you are worthy to share in the inheritance of the saints in the light. You have been rescued from the power of darkness and transferred into the kingdom of Jesus, the Christ.

Throughout our lives we, too, face times of darkness. Sometimes darkness covers our personal lives, sometimes our corporate lives, and sometimes darkness seems to cover the whole earth. We people of the 21st Century have little regard for kings. They wear archaic clothes and live in castles and huge estates. Many of them no longer rule, but when they do, their people are subservient with little voice in the management of their countries, and even their lives. Yet in the midst of our cynicism, we come to church and profess our faith that Christ will come again in glory, and his kingdom will have no end. We come to church and pray, thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven. For thine is the kingdom, and the power, and the glory, for ever and ever.

Today, on the New Year’s Eve of the Church year, we may feel as if we are covered in darkness. Next week Advent and the New Year begin. The first candle will be lit on our Advent wreaths, and the first lighted candle will appear on the beautiful banners hung in our sanctuary. Our focus will turn to the lowly infant to be born, and to the light that is coming into the world, the light of victory over evil and death. The darkness will dissipate as we welcome the light of Christ.

Reimagine yourself in the presence of Christ the King, under his most gracious rule. Celebrate the kingship of Jesus Christ. Now is our opportunity to proclaim the Good News, that his coming brings joy rather than sorrow, hope rather than despair. As it is said at baptisms in our church, Receive the light of Christ, and carry it into the world, to the Glory of God. Amen.

Let us pray: Come Holy Spirit, open our ears, eyes, and hearts to the blessed hope offered in Jesus Christ made present in you holy Word. Amen.

I love the collect for today. It’s one of my favorites. I’m not as excited about the lectionary readings. They are tough. But what I hope to offer you today, with the help of the Holy Spirit, is a way to engage the Scriptures that both acknowledges the difficulty of the task, and also offers guidance and hope. Let’s take another look at the collect:

Traditional

Blessed Lord, who has caused all holy Scriptures to be written for our learning: Grant that we may in such wise hear them, read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest them; that, by patience and comfort of thy holy Word, we may embrace and ever hold fast the blessed hope of everlasting life, which thou hast given us in our Savior Jesus Christ; who liveth and reigneth with thee and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen

Contemporary

Blessed Lord, who caused all holy Scriptures to be written for our learning: Grant us so to hear them, read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest them, that we may embrace and ever hold fast the blessed hope of everlasting life, which you have given us in our Savior Jesus Christ; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.

All Holy Scriptures were written for our learning and we ask God to help us as we hear, read, mark, learn and inwardly digest them. I love this line, chewing on the scriptures. What do these words taste like? What ideas about God and about ourselves do they offer? What kind of nourishment do they provide?

Today’s collect in its earliest form comes to us from Archbishop Thomas Cranmer, the architect of the first Book of Common Prayer. Cranmer was convinced that all Christians needed to be reading the Scriptures as much as they could, and so, prayer books throughout time from the first book in England in 1549, and the first American prayer book in 1789, to the 1928 prayer book, to what we have in the pews today, the 1979 prayer book, all of these began with and have continued to be based on the Scriptures. Included in the prayer book are the psalms which we sing or recite on a regular basis. Many of the expressions, sayings, and prayers from the prayer book that are familiar to you, come from the bible. The prayer book offers us a way and guides us to pray the scriptures both on our own and together, throughout the day, with morning, afternoon, evening, and end of day (compline), prayers. And of course, our Sunday services as well as special days and occasions in our lives. Our liturgical calendar connected to our lectionary, the choices of readings for each day and Sunday, lead us through the birth, life, death, and resurrection of Jesus, offering us a scriptural journey that invites us to better understand God’s relationship with humankind.

While the prayer book’s origins are hundreds of years old, it continues to evolve. There is ongoing discussion around the next revision, examination of patriarchal and colonial language and imagery, suggestions for more inclusive and gender- neutral language, the potential inclusion of new services, like services for same-sex marriages, and proposals for updates, and new translations in Spanish, French, and Haitian Creole. The process continues! Our book of common prayer is based on the Holy Scriptures and it offers us a way to be led and guided through as we hear, read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest.

If you’ve come from another denomination, or spent any time in a non-denominational or evangelical church like I did in my teens and college years, then you are probably used to seeing bibles in the pews, or of bringing your own bible with you to follow along. And during the sermon the preacher would invite you to open your bibles and turn to the book, chapter, and verse. Some, but not all Episcopal churches have bibles in the pews. Some, but not all Episcopalians have their own bibles that they carry around with them. At St. Mary’s we have our lectionary inserts. But Scriptures are a key part of every time we gather to pray and celebrate the Eucharist. We include a reading from the Old Testament, a psalm, a reading from the New Testament, and a gospel reading in every Sunday service. Following the order of our BCP, we divide our service into the Ministry of the Word, and the Ministry of the Table. We come together to hear, to sing, to listen, and to respond to the word of God. As Episcopalians, we are a people of the book. A people of the bible, guided by our book of common prayer as we journey together through the Holy Scriptures.

But how do we read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest the Holy Scriptures, embracing and holding fast the blessed hope of everlasting life given in Jesus? In this way too we are influenced by our English forebears. A few weeks ago, we celebrated the feast day of Richard Hooker, known as the father of Anglican theology. His process for reading the bible and figuring out what it means for us is based on two main ideas: context and community. The context of where, when, and how we read the Holy Scriptures, and community, the people that we do it with. Yes, we can read scriptures on our own, but…they were meant to be read out loud, listened too, talked about, pondered, shared, reflected on, WITH others! Context: the context from which these Holy words have come. This is key. As Episcopalians, we approach the Scriptures with all of the gifts made available to us by our loving God. We look at and value the scriptures themselves, we look at and value the traditions, the opinions, conclusions and ideas of all those who have come before and how they have sought to understand God through the bible. We look at and value the gifts of reason, science, sociology, psychology, the gift of our minds that we can apply to our understanding of the bible. And finally, we look at and value our own experiences with the Divine and what we have learned from them. These are the gifts that we bring to reading the bible. We don’t read the bible literally, but contextually, with the help of those who have come before us, with our current understandings of historical, cultural, and literary contexts, with our past and ongoing experience with God, and all of this through prayer, guided by the Holy Spirit.

Last Sunday I was invited to talk with our Journey to Adulthood youth class as they focused on the Old and New Testaments and their differences and similarities. As I found myself in front of this group of young people, I reflected on what I thought was most important for them to know about the bible. Here’s what I shared with them: First of all, the bible is not just one book or even two books, but it is a compilation of LOTS of different books, written at different times, by different people, for different people, edited, added to, taken away from, written in many different literary forms. There are historical books, poetry, letters, eye-witness accounts, biographies of the life of Jesus, myths, fables, allegories, love letters, historical fiction, and more! The bible is the word of God, NOT God’s literal words. The bible is inspired by God, by the Holy Spirit, but it also came through human writers, so it’s not perfect, there are mistakes, it does contradict itself. It was written and then translated in many different languages. And what we have today is a translation of a translation of a translation. It is old, but it also new, and timeless, with applications that were specific to certain people and places, and also applications for us today. It is a way to better understand who we are, who God is, and who God created us to be.

Finally, it must always be viewed and interpreted though the lens of love. The love of God for all creation, proclaimed in Genesis, and God saw all that God created and it was good, and it was good, and it was good. God is good. God created us and all that is, and it is good, we are good, loved, lovable, and called to love others. Scripture must be viewed through the lens of the love of Jesus shown in his actions and teachings, his inclusion, uplifting, and inviting of ALL, his compassion, mercy, and forgiveness.

After this session one of the leaders shared with me that a young person had asked why God had allowed slavery to exist. Wow! What a great question. Not an easy question. One that we will have to grapple with together, as we look at scripture, tradition, reason and experience, guided by the Holy Spirit. For the teacher and I, the happy moment came when we realized that these young people were comfortable enough to ask this question and to seek to understand God through exploring the holy Scriptures together.

Let us pray: Blessed Lord, we give you thanks that you have caused all holy Scriptures to be written for our learning. Please be with us as we hear, read, mark, and chew on them together, so that we may embrace and hold onto the hope you have given us in our Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.