Showing posts with label CEpiphany5. Show all posts
Showing posts with label CEpiphany5. Show all posts

Sunday, February 9, 2025

The marvelous peace of God



They Cast Their Nets in Galilee

1 They cast their nets in Galilee
just off the hills of brown;
such happy, simple fisher-folk,
before the Lord came down.

2 Contented, peaceful fishermen,
before they ever knew
the peace of God that filled their hearts
brimful, and broke them too.

3 Young John who trimmed the flapping sail,
homeless, in Patmos died.
Peter, who hauled the teeming net,
head-down was crucified.

4 The peace of God, it is no peace,
but strife closed in the sod.
Yet let us pray for but one thing-
the marvelous peace of God.

https://hymnary.org/hymn/EH1982/661
William Alexander Percy, 1885-1942 (alt.)
The Hymnal 1982, #661


Some years ago a man born in the Tyrolean Alps of Italy wanted to go on an adventure. He wanted to follow in the footsteps of the saint he was named for. He was named after Francis Xavier, an adventurous saint who had travelled from his native Spain to the farther side of the planet, to India and the shores of China… who in turn was named for Francis of Assisi, who centuries before had traveled to the Holy Land and back and traveled the roads of his native land, following the call of Jesus and the promptings of the Holy Spirit, proclaiming the peaceful reign of God.

Our Tyrolean friend wanted to adventure too, to answer the call of God, and to follow Francis Xavier in going to China. So he became a Jesuit — and the order sent him to the far ends of the earth, but not to China. They sent him the other way round, to the Sonoran Desert. They sent him here.

You know who I mean by now: Eusebio Francisco Kino. Father Kino established a series of mission posts — by simply stopping, preaching, celebrating the Eucharist, and moving on. X marks the spot — all over what is now northern Sonora and southern Arizona, what he called Pimeria Alta — are the spots where he stopped and planted churches.

This all happened before 1711 when he at last dedicated a chapel in Magdalena and then breathed his last, and his bones were laid beside the altar.

He had gone on adventure indeed - and he had answered the call of Christ. It drew him to unexpected places.

That is what the call of Jesus does. Do you think Simon, Andrew, James, and John knew what they were getting into when they left their nets and followed Jesus? No — and yes.

They did not know where he would lead them, or the pain they would suffer, or the glory that awaited. They saw only - only enough: a simple fisher folk by the lake, who put out one more time into deeper water after a night of frustration, on trust, and were shown a miracle.

It was something they could understand - in that it was a lot of fish - but beyond the possibility they knew. What they did know, right then, was not where they were going, or what they would see, but who they were going with. And that was enough — enough to terrify, enough to compel, enough to begin the adventure.

Was it about their worthiness? Was that what qualified them for this all-expense-required trip to the unknown Kingdom? No. What they had was a beginning, the beginning of faith — maybe  starting smaller than the seed of a mustard plant — but it grew as they traveled with Jesus on the way.

Isaiah had said he was a man of unclean lips. Paul saw he was not worthy. Peter called himself a sinful man. But all knew they were in the presence of the Holy - a vision of the Holy One on the throne or a burst of light on the Damascus road or a net full of fish - and they knew something else: they were called, to make the proclamation, to gather in the people, for the Lord was near.

What? No miraculous catch of fish in our life? No burning coal on your lips? No Damascus Road light burst? No, but perhaps God is calling us, you and me and all of us, still to put out once more, even into deep waters, to put our trust in him as they did along that lakeshore far away.

For what happens when we follow God’s call is not up to us, and what we know is not the sonar assurance of a shoal of fish, what we know is that we are with the one we can trust, who reveals to us the presence of God’s glory, in a touch of a healing hand, in a mention of a name in prayer, we are no less than ancient fisher folk invited on an adventure that will carry us — to a place we have never seen, that yet is our home. 

He is the way. He is the truth. He is the life. He is the journey and the destination. The one with us is the one who expects us and welcomes us home.

When I was far from home I went to visit an old friend and told him my reluctant story — that years after seminary I was still despite my uncertainty feeling a desire to pursue ordination — but I did not know if I could or should or what would happen if I tried. And he asked, is it a question of unworthiness?

Unworthiness.

Because that, my friends, as it turns out, is a chief qualification.

Because it means you are developing a proper sense of awe.

And yet you need to know it is not about your worthiness. It is about his glory and his call to you.

From now on leave behind the tangling anxieties that pull you down. For you will be catching - gathering - bringing into the kingdom - the living souls of people.

This is not a gospel message for preachers only, of course, or for times when only religion is on your mind.

In every ordinary thing we do God can be revealed and proclaimed, beyond our arrangement or understanding. Our imaginations are inadequate to the surprise of his revelation.

What I have experienced since that now-distant visit to an old friend is not a straightforward journey, nor a progression of triumphs, but a return again and again, to the faithful presence of the Holy in small things as well as great, in the progress or the plod, plod, plod of weary feet, following the path.

Imagine the far travels of Father Kino across unknown deserts, or the oceans crossed by Francis Xavier, or the humble begging of Saint Francis, or the cruel confrontations faced by Peter, and yet imagine, see, God with them, Christ in them, the hope of Glory - and the promise of faith.

Lord give us nets that do not break - by the Christ of the sea may we be caught in the nets of God - and may we in turn catch others.



You just don’t know what you’re getting into when you follow Jesus, do you? It sounds like a pretty good deal. From now on you will be catching people. Sounds like success. Sounds like prosperity. Sounds like – fame.

Not.

But maybe yes.

We do remember these simple fisher folk, as the hymn calls them.

We remember what happened to them. As we imagine it.

More than that, we remember what they taught us, what they testified to, and their deeds – of spreading the word, and their own mouths’ confessions – are what has built the faith we know.

The abundance, beyond expectation, of catch or harvest, that comes with knowing and following God, is part of the story.

There is another part. What happened to these faithful men? How did it end for them?

Did it end in glory? Not for them, not yet. What they do is follow. What happens to them, what is going to happen to them, what happens to them, now, is not their concern. Follow me, and I will make you fishers of people. (Mark 1:16-20//Matthew 4:18-22)

I have a job for you.

That is what it is about. That is what they know. They do not yet know what the job will require, but they have a pretty good sense of who is calling them to do it. And they go.

Saint Peter to Rome, Saint Mark to Egypt, Saint Thomas to India, Saint John to Patmos.

Those are legendary destinations of some of the simple fisherfolk and their friends. Paul wanted to go to Spain, but ended up in Rome, under arrest and on trial. 

In prison or in the marketplace, these early followers, these messengers, of Jesus’ word, had a story to tell, good news to convey. Whether you expected him or not, the one who will bring peace to you and the world has come. 

It is not peace as the world has known it, not as we might have hoped for or expected. It is not a miraculous transformation – it is the simple peace that comes with following God. It is the marvelous peace that comes before – and after – all else. 

In the hymn “They cast their nets in Galilee” we sing some of this story. The song invites us to ask for nothing less than that marvelous peace of God. And warns us of the cost of discipleship.

We can receive the gift, the marvelous peace of God, that is, the kingdom of heaven, only as a gift. We didn’t deserve it. We don’t own it. It is grace alone. And that is what we live by.

We will not, probably, end up like Peter or John. Although some have. We will probably face, continue to face, the workaday cost of discipleship: prayerfully doing the right thing, in prayer doing the next right thing, the thing we know to be right in the present moment. 

Even seeking to know what that right thing is : guided by the Spirit and by the gifts of the Word, as well as our God-given, Spirit-inspired reason, and in a community, if need be, of discernment. There are large things and small, immediate or long-range, that we do.

In these we follow Jesus. In these, we leave our nets, and follow him on the Way. And in these simple things, we begin to ‘catch’ what it is that it means to be his people. Amen.


The Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany. 

Set us free, O God, from the bondage of our sins, and give us the liberty of that abundant life which you have made known to us in your Son our Savior Jesus Christ; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen. (BCP collect)

CEpiphany5 2025 Santa Cruz Lutheran Church, Tucson. 9:30am

Prayer of the Day
Most holy God, the earth is filled with your glory, and before you angels and saints stand in awe. Enlarge our vision to see your power at work in the world, and by your grace make us heralds of your Son, Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord. Amen.

First Reading: Isaiah 6:1-8 [9-13]
1 In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord sitting on a throne, high and lofty, and the hem of his robe filled the temple. 2 Seraphs were in attendance above him; each had six wings: with two they covered their faces, and with two they covered their feet, and with two they flew. 3 And one called to another and said,
 “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts;
 the whole earth is full of his glory.”
4 The pivots on the thresholds shook at the voices of those who called, and the house filled with smoke. 5 And I said, “Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips, yet my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!”
  6 Then one of the seraphs flew to me, holding a live coal that had been taken from the altar with a pair of tongs. 7 The seraph touched my mouth with it and said, “Now that this has touched your lips, your guilt has departed and your sin is blotted out.” 8 Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” And I said, “Here am I; send me!” 

[9 And he said, “Go and say to this people:
 ‘Keep listening, but do not comprehend;
 keep looking, but do not understand.’
 10 Make the mind of this people dull,
  and stop their ears,
  and shut their eyes,
 so that they may not look with their eyes
  and listen with their ears
 and comprehend with their minds
  and turn and be healed.”
 11 Then I said, “How long, O Lord?” And he said,
 “Until cities lie waste
  without inhabitant,
 and houses without people,
  and the land is utterly desolate;
 12 until the Lord sends everyone far away,
  and vast is the emptiness in the midst of the land.
 13 Even if a tenth part remain in it,
  it will be burned again,
 like a terebinth or an oak
  whose stump remains standing
  when it is felled.”
 (The holy seed is its stump.)]

Psalm: Psalm 138
Refrain: I will bow down toward your holy temple. (Ps. 138:2)
 1 I will give thanks to you, O Lord, with | my whole heart;
  before the gods I will | sing your praise.
 2 I will bow down toward your holy temple and praise your name, because of your steadfast | love and faithfulness;
  for you have glorified your name and your word a- | bove all things. R
 3 When I called, you | answered me;
  you increased my | strength within me.
 4 All the rulers of the earth will praise | you, O Lord,
  when they have heard the words | of your mouth.
 5 They will sing of the ways | of the Lord,
  that great is the glory | of the Lord.
 6 The Lord is high, yet cares | for the lowly,
  perceiving the haughty | from afar. R
 7 Though I walk in the midst of trouble, you | keep me safe;
  you stretch forth your hand against the fury of my enemies; your right | hand shall save me.
 8 You will make good your pur- | pose for me;
  O Lord, your steadfast love endures forever; do not abandon the works | of your hands. R

Second Reading: 1 Corinthians 15:1-11
1 Now I want you to understand, brothers and sisters, the good news that I proclaimed to you, which you in turn received, in which also you stand, 2 through which also you are being saved, if you hold firmly to the message that I proclaimed to you—unless you have come to believe in vain.
  3 For I handed on to you as of first importance what I in turn had received: that Christ died for our sins in accordance with the scriptures 4 and that he was buried and that he was raised on the third day in accordance with the scriptures 5 and that he appeared to Cephas, then to the twelve. 6 Then he appeared to more than five hundred brothers and sisters at one time, most of whom are still alive, though some have died. 7 Then he appeared to James, then to all the apostles. 8 Last of all, as to one untimely born, he appeared also to me. 9 For I am the least of the apostles, unfit to be called an apostle, because I persecuted the church of God. 10 But by the grace of God I am what I am, and his grace toward me has not been in vain. On the contrary, I worked harder than any of them, though it was not I but the grace of God that is with me. 11 Whether then it was I or they, so we proclaim and so you believed.

Gospel: Luke 5:1-11
1 Once while Jesus was standing beside the Lake of Gennesaret and the crowd was pressing in on him to hear the word of God, 2 he saw two boats there at the shore of the lake; the fishermen had gotten out of them and were washing their nets. 3 He got into one of the boats, the one belonging to Simon, and asked him to put out a little way from the shore. Then he sat down and taught the crowds from the boat. 4 When he had finished speaking, he said to Simon, “Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch.” 5 Simon answered, “Master, we have worked all night long but have caught nothing. Yet if you say so, I will let down the nets.” 6 When they had done this, they caught so many fish that their nets were beginning to burst. 7 So they signaled their partners in the other boat to come and help them. And they came and filled both boats, so that they began to sink. 8 But when Simon Peter saw it, he fell down at Jesus’s knees, saying, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man!” 9 For he and all who were with him were astounded at the catch of fish that they had taken, 10 and so also were James and John, sons of Zebedee, who were partners with Simon. Then Jesus said to Simon, “Do not be afraid; from now on you will be catching people.” 11 When they had brought their boats to shore, they left everything and followed him.








Sunday, February 10, 2019

unworthiness

Some years ago a man born in the Tyrolean Alps of Italy wanted to go on an adventure. He wanted to follow in the footsteps of the saint he was named for. He was named after Francis Xavier, an adventurous saint who had travelled from his native Spain to the farther side of the planet, to India and the shores of China… who in turn was named for Francis of Assisi, who centuries before had traveled to the Holy Land and back and traveled the roads of his native land, following the call of Jesus and the promptings of the Holy Spirit, proclaiming the peaceful reign of God.

Our Tyrolean friend wanted to adventure too, to answer the call of God, and to follow Francis Xavier in going to China. So he became a Jesuit - and the order sent him to the far ends of the earth, but not to China. They sent him to Sonora, Mexico. They sent him here.

You know who I mean by now: Eusebio Francisco Kino. Father Kino established a series of mission posts - by simply stopping, preaching, celebrating the Eucharist, and moving on. X marks the spot — all over what is now northern Sonora and southern Arizona, what he called Pimeria Alta - are the spots where he stopped and planted churches.

This all happened before 1711 when he at last dedicated a chapel in Magdalena and then breathed his last, and his bones were laid beside the altar.

He had gone on adventure indeed - and he had answered the call of Christ. It drew him to unexpected places.

That is what the call of Jesus does. Do you think Simon, James, and John knew what they were getting into when they left their nets and followed Jesus? No — and yes.

They did not know where he would lead them, or the pain they would suffer, or the glory that awaited. They saw only - only enough: a simple fisher folk by the lake, who put out one more time into deeper water after a night of frustration, on trust, and were shown a miracle.

It was something they could understand - in that it was a lot of fish - but beyond the possibility they knew. What they did know, right then, was not where they were going, or what they would see, but who they were going with. And that was enough — enough to terrify, enough to compel, enough to begin the adventure.

Was it about their worthiness? Was that what qualified them for this all-expense-required trip to the unknown Kingdom? No. What they had was a beginning, the beginning of faith — maybe  starting smaller than the the seed of a mustard plant — but it grew as they traveled with Jesus on the way.

Isaiah had said he was a man of unclean lips. Paul saw he was not worthy. Peter called himself a sinful man. But all knew they were in the presence of the Holy - a vision of the Holy One on the throne or a burst of light on the Damascus road or a net full of fish - and they knew something else: they were called, to make the proclamation, to gather in the people, for the Lord was near.

What? No miraculous catch of fish in our life? No burning coal on your lips? No Damascus Road light burst? No, but perhaps God is calling us, you and me and all of us, still to put out once more, even into deep waters, to put our trust in him as they did along that lakeshore far away.

For what happens when we follow God’s call is not up to us, and what we know is not the sonar assurance of a shoal of fish, what we know is that we are with the one we can trust, who reveals to us the presence of God’s glory, in a touch of a healing hand, in a mention of a name in prayer, we are no less than ancient fisher folk invited on an adventure that will carry us — to a place where we are long expected, a city we have never seen, that yet is our home. He is the way. He is the truth. He is the life. He is the journey and the destination. The one with us is the one who expects us and welcomes us home.

When I was far from home I went to visit an old friend and told him my reluctant story — that years after seminary I was still despite my uncertainty feeling a desire to pursue ordination — but I did not know if I could or should or what would happen if I tried. And he asked, is it a question of unworthiness?

Unworthiness.

Because that, my friends, as it turns out, is a chief qualification.

Because it means your are developing a proper sense of awe.

And yet you need to know it is not about your worthiness. It is about his glory and his call to you.

From now on leave behind the tangling anxieties that pull you down. For you will be catching - gathering - bringing into the kingdom - the living souls of people.

This is not a gospel message for preachers only, of course, or for times when only religion is on your mind.

In every ordinary thing we do God can be revealed and proclaimed, beyond our arrangement or understanding. Our imaginations are inadequate to the surprise of his revelation.

What I have experienced since that now-distant visit to an old friend is not a straightforward journey, nor a progression of triumphs, but a return again and again, to the faithful presence of the Holy in small things as well as great, in the progress or the plod, plod, plod of weary feet, following the path.

Imagine the far travels of Father Kino across unknown deserts, or the oceans crossed by Francis Xavier, or the humble begging of Saint Francis, or the cruel confrontations faced by Peter, and yet imagine, see, God with them, Christ in them, the hope of Glory - and the promise of faith.

Lord give us nets that do not break - by the Christ of the sea may we be caught in the nets of God - and may we in turn catch our friends.
O God, you have made of one blood all the peoples of the
earth, and sent your blessed Son to preach peace to those
who are far off and to those who are near: Grant that people
everywhere may seek after you and find you; bring the
nations into your fold; pour out your Spirit upon all flesh;
and hasten the coming of your kingdom; through Jesus
Christ our Lord. Amen.

Lord Jesus Christ, you stretched out your arms of love on
the hard wood of the cross that everyone might come within
the reach of your saving embrace: So clothe us in your Spirit
that we, reaching forth our hands in love, may bring those
who do not know you to the knowledge and love of you; for
the honor of your Name. Amen.

On the sea of Galilee you can see a boat like the ones Peter and James and John and the other fishers of men sailed upon during the first century of our era. It is preserved inside a museum at the kibbutz of Ginosar, a fertile place surrounded by banana trees and other fruitful plants. There it rests, between Magdala and Capernaum, on the western side of the sea. It is not far from Tabgha where German Benedictines watch over the church of the multiplication of loaves and fishes and the church of the primacy of Peter ("Peter, do you love me?").

This is the kind of boat that Jesus was in - one with disciples, uncertain, unknowing, faithful; ready to put out into deep water and again try to do something they knew very well might not work. That did not stop them - and they who had followed him as soon as he called them, came up - not empty, but full beyond their hopes. A boat full of fish. From deep water.

Far from land, not safe, not safe at all: where the storms blew up fast and the waves were steep and close together when the wind rose, they cast their nets once again. And this is what they found: God is faithful - and he knows what he is doing.

 (Howard Hayden fly-casting on the Stillaguamish River)

The lessons from the Old Testament, both Isaiah and the responsorial psalm, talk about the glory of God. This resonates with the admonition of Paul the Apostle, in the letter to Colossians (1:27): Christ in you, the hope of Glory.

The praises of all Creation resound with the name of God and his Glory. His shining- forth, that is, his Epiphany, or revealing, to all people. In this week's fifth Sunday of Epiphany, the revealing is of Christ as a bringer of abundance, a maker of miracles. But he has something more in mind: not showing off a divine ability but revealing the glory of God in an ordinary (until then) moment.

They have been fishing - and have gotten nowhere. They have nothing to show for their work. Until he provides for them, and shows them, that there is something beyond their current calling, a new work for them to do. Now they are to fish for people.

I think they get it. When they go out into perilous places beyond safe limits they will find abundance.



Sources:
Howard Hayden
Suzanne Guthrie, Edge of Enclosure
David Bartlett and Barbara Brown Taylor, eds., Feasting on the Word

Sunday, February 4, 2007

guystuff

guystuff - notes for a sermon

Judges 6:11-24a

The angel greets Gideon, "The Lord is with you, you mighty warrior!"
He replies, "WHO, ME?"
"Go in this might of yours," the angel says, "I hereby commission you!"
Gideon protests: "But I am the last and least of my little people."
"But I will be with you," says the Lord.
"SHOW ME A SIGN!" Gideon pleads. And boy does he get one.
"Help me, Lord!" he cries. "For I have seen the angel of the Lord face to face."
And the Lord says, "Peace. Do not fear." The Lord is peace.

1 Corinthians 15:1-11

In Paul's letter to the Corinthians, he tells of the tradition he has passed
down to them - and thence to us, the good news that, in accordance with the
Scriptures, Christ died for our sins, he was buried, and he was raised on the
third day. Now Paul puts himself into the story - as the last of those who saw
the resurrected Jesus, and the least of his messengers. Yet God used him, by the
grace of God, to bring the message, the good news. God's grace we proclaim; you
have come to believe in God's grace, and to put your faith in the Messiah.

Luke 5:1-11

Peter shows us an early example of that faith at work, as he goes ahead, taking
Jesus at his word, into his boat, out a little ways, then farther into deep
water. And then, on land, he embarks on a riskier journey yet - taking on a new
way of living, of being. No longer is he the captain of his fate, the pilot of
his own boat: he has turned the helm over to Jesus.

And now - he will follow him; From now on - he will be catching people:
And the nets he will haul in - or others for him - will be full of joy.


What we experience when we take on the new way of being, the new life in Christ,
is no less radical. It may come to us in familiar, gentle, ways, in the course
of our daily livelihood - and we pass it on others there as well - but it takes
us on a new adventure, like fishermen out of water.


At the office where I worked, one Friday I asked a co-worker,

--Hey Walter, what are you going to do this weekend?
--Oh, you know, go to a bar, have a few brews, watch the game. You know,
guystuff.

A couple of weeks later, I asked again,

--Walter, what are you going to do this weekend?
--Oh, you know, pick up my kid, take him to the park, play with him. You know,
guystuff.

Walter taught me a new word - guystuff - and he taught me what it meant: stuff
guys like to do... and he taught me what that really means: not just stuff guys
like to do like watch the Super Bowl, hang out with their buddies, swap lies,
drink beer, smoke cigars... but other stuff guys like to do too, like be a
father, be a responsible, caring parent, spend time with their children, show
them some love, enjoy them. Guystuff - the stuff guys like to do - is a human
thing: like fishing all night with your friends, and turning up empty in the
morning, pulling in your nets. It's also taking a preacher out in your boat, a
little way from shore, so the people on the banks of the inlet can hear him
clearly. And, it turns out, it can also mean a bit more. It's a human thing,
guystuff - and it can be a God thing. What Jesus had in mind, to proclaim the
word of God, to let the crowd hear the good news, and let some of the good news
be caught by those on the boat as well, then to put out into the deep waters, --
requires a real act of courage, trust, faith on Peter's part - and put down the
nets once again. Something quite ordinary is no longer so ordinary after all.

God fills the boat - our lives - to over-abundance, the measure of devotion like
an ephod of grain shaken down and spilling over. God's grace comes aboard.

What will we do with it? Will we, like Peter, respond with joy, with awe, with
acceptance, dedication, a new purpose in life? Will we know when it is time to
pull the boat up onto the beach, to leave what we were doing and come follow
him? What would this look like - for you today?

If you are going to do guystuff this afternoon - drink a few brews, watch the
game, play with your kid, catch a few fish - [or] will you be ready, when the
call comes, to drop everything, become fishers catching people from now on? In
abundance, beyond promise, without measure? Are you perhaps already doing it?

Maybe unconsciously, you have begun to venture out a little farther, into the
deeper water, using the tools you have been given, the ordinary tools of your
life, to begin something extraordinary. God took the ordinary stuff of regular
guys - a bunch of guys who had been out fishing together, no less - and
transformed the ordinary stuff of their lives, showing them what was behind it -
God's hand at work - revealing to them the Messiah, present, right there, on the
lakeshore with them.

Gideon, the last and least of his people, God greets as a mighty warrior.
Knowing him better than he knew himself, God told him, "Don't be afraid."

Paul passes on the good news, that Christ died for our sins, he was buried and
he was raised on the third day. He protests that "I AM THE LEAST and last of the
Apostles," but by the grace of God, he says, "I AM WHAT I AM." It is by God's
grace that he serves, and his grace is not in vain. "Grace we proclaim; Grace
you have come to believe."

The people come to hear the WORD of GOD. Jesus coaxes Peter, "Put out a little
way...Put out into the deep..." When he sees what is going on, Peter pleads, "Go
away! I AM A SINFUL MAN." But the Lord says, again, "Do not be afraid. From now
on you will be catching people."

Right here with us, on an ordinary day, God is taking what we bring, bread and
wine and water and oil -- and ourselves, as God made us - and turning them
somehow into extraordinary stuff: the food and drink of everlasting life, the
present reality of God with us.



St. John's, Chico, California
February 4, 2007.

CEpiphany5 BCP
Judges 6:11-24a, Psalm 85 or 85:7-13, 1 Corinthians 15:1-11, Luke 5:1-11