November 28, First Sunday of Advent, 2010, notes for 10:30 sermon:
a thief in the night
that's all I got
+
Showing posts with label Isaiah 2:1-5. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Isaiah 2:1-5. Show all posts
Sunday, November 28, 2010
O Come, O Come, Emmanuel
O Come, O Come, Emmanuel
During Advent we greet the gospel singing verses of the hymn "O Come O Come Emmanuel”— based upon the O Antiphons, ancient Latin refrains adapted for our congregational use. In these verses we are singing a 19th century translation of a 12th century version of 9th century lyrics based on the first century words of Matthew which cite the Old Testament prophet Isaiah.
These words, so old and so new, bring us right to the present moment - the moment of freedom God has given us in Christ Jesus - and beyond into the fullness of the completion of his work in the world: his kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven.
We greet the coming Christ in a variety of titles, drawn from Old Testament prophecy and writings, from the Torah and from the Gospels. They include Wisdom, Lord of might, off-spring of Jesse, Key of David, day-spring from on high, desire of nations, Son of God, teacher, King of Peace. They begin and end with the name Emmanuel: God (is) with us.
come thou unexpected Jesus
come and set your people free
we have been waiting for you a long time
not for ourselves only; for everyone
the days are cold and brief to begin with
night comes without fail to put an end
to our day’s striving
in the middle of the night
in the cold the dark the forgotten
you come
you come to us, unexpected Jesus
in the least likely moments
of our lives
we’re not ready; we’re always ready
it’s up to us
to open our eyes and awaken
to get used to the fact
to be there when you arrive
ready to greet you
whatever your appearance
however you name yourself,
or are named, this time –
you come to us in so many
guises, so many faces, so many ways
for each of us is made in your image
our souls bear your stamp
not of bondage but of freedom
for your mark, the mark of a
believer in you, that mark is love
If we practice it everyday
we just might find it indelible
when we seek you
we just might see you
when you arrive
we might know you
for the secret is
we are all seeking the same thing
and the same thing is seeking all of us
we may greet you differently
call you by different names
- Wisdom from on high
- Lord of might
- God with us
but we all know we want to know you
as you know us
we wish to be known
in the breaking of the bread
and in the prayers
in the apostles’ teaching
and in fellowship
in our lives our work our hands
our family friends and strangers
we seek you we wish to know you
we want to come to you
but you have already come to us
already but not yet
you are present among us
in the hope in the promise in the
ready way your world is made
to greet you when you arrive
come to us Lord Jesus come and
ransom your people captive to sin
we await you in a foreign land
where we cannot sing the songs of home
unless you are there with us in the
midst of our trials, our struggles,
our fears, the fires of temptation
we await, we anticipate, you
make yourself known to us
reveal yourself, be active, show up
we rejoice and are glad of the
promise of salvation
you will come and help your people
you will come and set us free
come to us Spirit of Wisdom
in you all things have (found) their being
from the beginning you set them in order
all creation bears the pattern
you imposed
you yourself are the light and the path
show us how to be wise in our folly
that we, following you, may find home
Breath of God breathe on us
breath in us
be our guide to life
show us the right way
lead us into truth
the truth of your love
the truth of your light
show us the way and
be with us upon it
God Emmanuel God with us Amen
In ancient times to ancient ones
you gave your ancient law
in a cloud
you hid yourself, in a cloud
you showed yourself – shielding
us from the pure brightness of
your glory and still in the hiding
in the very mystery calling us
beyond it in your light
I AM you said
I am the one who is
I am the One whom Jacob saw
struggling obscurely in the night
wrestling with angels on the bank
of the river
I am the one whom Moses saw
who led him (to be) shepherd of his people
I am the one who Abraham saw
counting the endless stars at night
knowing each star bore your promise
a promise of his fulfillment
in your faithfulness
in the knowledge of your glory
I am the One you said who
saved Isaac from the
ram’s place in the thicket
I pulled him out and sent
him on his way
not an abject sacrifice
but an obedient servant
A Son like my own giving my self
I am the One you said
who sets you free
who leads you now
from despair to hope
from sin to grace
from death to life
Come to us Lord Jesus
and lead us by unexpected ways
and hidden paths that we
may know you in the
full pleasure of your glory
you give us sustenance and hope
on the way
you give us the bread we need today
and the promise of tomorrow
of a Kingdom there beyond our hope
beyond our plans
beyond our believing
even what we know is to follow you
what we know is you are the way
make us ready
keep us awake
that we may see you
or not seeing you
greet you all the same when you come
and Do come O Lord thou unexpected Jesus
Come home to your homeless people
that we may find our rest in thee
Call us to your home to be your people
make us restless until we rest in thee
not in our own ways
our own deeds
our own knowledge
that are foolish lost false failing
without you
they are without meaning
But with you and in you
and with you
may we follow on the journey
the path to life
and in every step on the way
may we be coming to know you
even if we know it not
be with us in doubt
be with us in faith
be with us
Lord Jesus
Amen.
+
As John Wesley, the preacher and hymnodist, lay dying, he lifted his arms and rejoiced, “The best of all, God is with us.”
Amen. Come, Lord Jesus! The grace of the Lord Jesus be with all the saints. Amen. (Revelation 22:20-21)
+
Sources
The Hymnal 1982, (New York: Church Hymnal Corporation, 1982) Hymn 56.
The Hymnal 1982 Companion, Raymond F. Glover, ed., (New York: Church Hymnal Corporation, 1994) Hymn 2.
A Theological Word Book of the Bible, Alan Richardson, ed., (New York: Macmillan, 1950) esp. “Emmanuel” by J. Y. Campbell and “Magnify” by J. S. McEwen.
The Hymnal 1940 Companion, ed. 3 (New York: Church Pension Fund, 1940, 1951)
http://www.oremus.org/hymnal/o/o084.html
http://godspace.wordpress.com/2010/12/06/o-come-o-come-emmanuel/
Sermon for 8 o'clock,
2010 November 28, First Sunday of Advent,
St Alban's Episcopal Church, Edmonds, Wash.
JRL+
+
During Advent we greet the gospel singing verses of the hymn "O Come O Come Emmanuel”— based upon the O Antiphons, ancient Latin refrains adapted for our congregational use. In these verses we are singing a 19th century translation of a 12th century version of 9th century lyrics based on the first century words of Matthew which cite the Old Testament prophet Isaiah.
These words, so old and so new, bring us right to the present moment - the moment of freedom God has given us in Christ Jesus - and beyond into the fullness of the completion of his work in the world: his kingdom come on earth as it is in heaven.
We greet the coming Christ in a variety of titles, drawn from Old Testament prophecy and writings, from the Torah and from the Gospels. They include Wisdom, Lord of might, off-spring of Jesse, Key of David, day-spring from on high, desire of nations, Son of God, teacher, King of Peace. They begin and end with the name Emmanuel: God (is) with us.
come thou unexpected Jesus
come and set your people free
we have been waiting for you a long time
not for ourselves only; for everyone
the days are cold and brief to begin with
night comes without fail to put an end
to our day’s striving
in the middle of the night
in the cold the dark the forgotten
you come
you come to us, unexpected Jesus
in the least likely moments
of our lives
we’re not ready; we’re always ready
it’s up to us
to open our eyes and awaken
to get used to the fact
to be there when you arrive
ready to greet you
whatever your appearance
however you name yourself,
or are named, this time –
you come to us in so many
guises, so many faces, so many ways
for each of us is made in your image
our souls bear your stamp
not of bondage but of freedom
for your mark, the mark of a
believer in you, that mark is love
If we practice it everyday
we just might find it indelible
when we seek you
we just might see you
when you arrive
we might know you
for the secret is
we are all seeking the same thing
and the same thing is seeking all of us
we may greet you differently
call you by different names
- Wisdom from on high
- Lord of might
- God with us
but we all know we want to know you
as you know us
we wish to be known
in the breaking of the bread
and in the prayers
in the apostles’ teaching
and in fellowship
in our lives our work our hands
our family friends and strangers
we seek you we wish to know you
we want to come to you
but you have already come to us
already but not yet
you are present among us
in the hope in the promise in the
ready way your world is made
to greet you when you arrive
come to us Lord Jesus come and
ransom your people captive to sin
we await you in a foreign land
where we cannot sing the songs of home
unless you are there with us in the
midst of our trials, our struggles,
our fears, the fires of temptation
we await, we anticipate, you
make yourself known to us
reveal yourself, be active, show up
we rejoice and are glad of the
promise of salvation
you will come and help your people
you will come and set us free
come to us Spirit of Wisdom
in you all things have (found) their being
from the beginning you set them in order
all creation bears the pattern
you imposed
you yourself are the light and the path
show us how to be wise in our folly
that we, following you, may find home
Breath of God breathe on us
breath in us
be our guide to life
show us the right way
lead us into truth
the truth of your love
the truth of your light
show us the way and
be with us upon it
God Emmanuel God with us Amen
In ancient times to ancient ones
you gave your ancient law
in a cloud
you hid yourself, in a cloud
you showed yourself – shielding
us from the pure brightness of
your glory and still in the hiding
in the very mystery calling us
beyond it in your light
I AM you said
I am the one who is
I am the One whom Jacob saw
struggling obscurely in the night
wrestling with angels on the bank
of the river
I am the one whom Moses saw
who led him (to be) shepherd of his people
I am the one who Abraham saw
counting the endless stars at night
knowing each star bore your promise
a promise of his fulfillment
in your faithfulness
in the knowledge of your glory
I am the One you said who
saved Isaac from the
ram’s place in the thicket
I pulled him out and sent
him on his way
not an abject sacrifice
but an obedient servant
A Son like my own giving my self
I am the One you said
who sets you free
who leads you now
from despair to hope
from sin to grace
from death to life
Come to us Lord Jesus
and lead us by unexpected ways
and hidden paths that we
may know you in the
full pleasure of your glory
you give us sustenance and hope
on the way
you give us the bread we need today
and the promise of tomorrow
of a Kingdom there beyond our hope
beyond our plans
beyond our believing
even what we know is to follow you
what we know is you are the way
make us ready
keep us awake
that we may see you
or not seeing you
greet you all the same when you come
and Do come O Lord thou unexpected Jesus
Come home to your homeless people
that we may find our rest in thee
Call us to your home to be your people
make us restless until we rest in thee
not in our own ways
our own deeds
our own knowledge
that are foolish lost false failing
without you
they are without meaning
But with you and in you
and with you
may we follow on the journey
the path to life
and in every step on the way
may we be coming to know you
even if we know it not
be with us in doubt
be with us in faith
be with us
Lord Jesus
Amen.
+
As John Wesley, the preacher and hymnodist, lay dying, he lifted his arms and rejoiced, “The best of all, God is with us.”
Amen. Come, Lord Jesus! The grace of the Lord Jesus be with all the saints. Amen. (Revelation 22:20-21)
+
Sources
The Hymnal 1982, (New York: Church Hymnal Corporation, 1982) Hymn 56.
The Hymnal 1982 Companion, Raymond F. Glover, ed., (New York: Church Hymnal Corporation, 1994) Hymn 2.
A Theological Word Book of the Bible, Alan Richardson, ed., (New York: Macmillan, 1950) esp. “Emmanuel” by J. Y. Campbell and “Magnify” by J. S. McEwen.
The Hymnal 1940 Companion, ed. 3 (New York: Church Pension Fund, 1940, 1951)
http://www.oremus.org/hymnal/o/o084.html
http://godspace.wordpress.com/2010/12/06/o-come-o-come-emmanuel/
Sermon for 8 o'clock,
2010 November 28, First Sunday of Advent,
St Alban's Episcopal Church, Edmonds, Wash.
JRL+
+
Sunday, December 2, 2007
Pilate slept in
Pilate slept in. Pontius Pilate had made a late night of it – in fact, he had turned in not long before dawn. He had washed his hands of the latest “Messiah” in the early hours of last Friday, called it good, and walked away. The nights since had been full, full of celebration – of a kind: reveling and drunkenness, debauchery and licentiousness, quarreling and jealousy, all the fleshly indulgence the apostle Paul so well describes. He was a creature of this night: the night at the end of the week. Pilate slept in.
It was early on the first day of the week, and it was still dark.
Across town, though, things were beginning to stir. Just quietly, a few women (Mary of Magdala, Mary the mother of James, Joanna, Salome, perhaps a few others) gathered together ointments and spices and made their way out of their houses and down through the pre-dawn streets, to pay their last respects to their friend, do their last duty to their master. And so they made their way to the tomb of Jesus son of Mary, Jesus of Nazareth. They thought they knew what they would find there.
It was dawn minus thirty. Day was coming; dawn was soon to break.
Imagine a desert landscape half an hour before dawn. A star glimmers in the east. As you move out into the open you see the moon, almost full, in the west, illumining the landscape – nearby trees, houses, hills, and the mountains beyond. The star in the east has a companion, a lesser satellite, still shining with brightness from the night before. There is a rustle here and there of night sounds. A campfire flickers: it can be rekindled.
The night is far along now, and the day is about to dawn.
We are waiting: you and I, together. We are waiting for the new dawn, the day of the Lord, the day when righteousness and peace will embrace, when swords will be beaten into plowshares and never will nation learn war anymore. We wait for the day when the poor are justified, and receive their due; when the widow and the orphan are protected.
And we are moving: we are not waiting passively, but actively, expectantly, we begin to move into this new day. Because something happened that morning as Pilate slept in; something that Salome and Mary and Joanna did not expect to happen. When they got to the tomb they found not the beginning of eternal night but the rising of a new day, the day of the Lord, just beginning, the day breaking into night’s dominion, bringing peace.
They ran to bring the news of this new day to all the disciples so that they could begin living in it, living into it, living it, as soon as possibly joy could allow.
And so we too are moving, running walking climbing, making our way into the world to let it know that Jesus is alive: the King has come home, the true King, the Messiah indeed, at last, is coming to his own – and his own shall know him and be set free.
He comes to us, this unexpected Jesus, in a form unsuspected: where we look for a king, a royal birth, we find a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger. Where we look for a warrior we find a man of peace. Where we look for a master we find one who empties his self of all majesty and serves. Where we look for an answer, a question:
How are we to live in this new day, the day of the Lord? How are we to announce it?
Every year it comes back around to us, at the top of the year, as we face both backwards into the past – the Nativity of our Lord– and forwards into the future – the Return of the King; and yet at this present moment, when we stand on the precipice of time, we live in the moment of freedom: to find ourselves and define ourselves anew, as people of the passing night or as the people of God, Christ’s children, the Church.
How are we to live at this moment? Whiling away the waning hours of night? Or shall we begin, even now, in this moment, to live as children of the day?
To live as children of the day is to begin to live into God’s kingdom – to take the values Jesus has taught us and without waiting for a big sign in the sky – like the one that says, “Welcome to Las Vegas!” – to say, “Eternal life starts here”, to begin to live that way. O house of Jacob, come, let us walk in the light of the Lord!
We cannot be again what we once were, but we can become what we should be, can be, and are called to be. We cannot recapture lost time, but we can stay focused, keep together, and move forward in the name of Christ, into the redeeming of time: future, present, past – all are made new and whole in the light of Christ.
The ways of the Lord are so precious and true, so giving of life, that Isaiah predicts all nations will come seeking instruction, to learn to walk in the ways of God, and to be shown his pathways. God through the Holy Spirit – and through the Body of Christ – teaches us the way. It is a way that leads to justice, that finds peace, that sees an end to the strife between people and nations – a time so confident of its fruitfulness that the tools of war are no longer needed and can be turned into the tools of productive abundance.
We are his hands and his feet in the world, his voice and his ears, and we are gathered here in this place in this time to embody to the world his message of peace. As we bear forth his message – even in the absurd and timeless form of a baby – we bring the greatest force to bear that the world has ever known: and that force is the love of God.
Irresistible, it moves mountains; immemorial, it lasts forever; inconceivable, it is real… the most real thing of all.
This is the season of advent, of new beginnings, for you, for me, for all of us who live in this world – a new hope is dawning as surely as the light is rising in the East, beyond the mountains, unseen, but closer every moment.
We experience that new hope in our own lives, even in the midst of sorrow. Where Pilate would find only the end of night, the women of Jesus found a new dawn. Where the world runs out its string, there faith begins to take hold. Jesus is with us, even in the darkest hour, just before dawn. And he is our light.
And if we are transparent enough, the light of the love of the Lord shines through us, a beacon for others, beckoning them to join us in this new day.
O come, let us walk in the light of the Lord.
JRL+
The First Sunday of Advent: December 2, 2007
The Church of Saint Alban, Edmonds, Washington.
God, who ever comes to you, draw you to his love, draw you to his light, draw you to himself; and the blessing of God Almighty, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, be among you and remain with you always. Amen.
(David Adam, Clouds of Glory, Year A, Advent 1)
Isaiah 2:1-5, Psalm 122/Canticle 15, Romans 13:11-14, Matthew 24:36-44
It was early on the first day of the week, and it was still dark.
Across town, though, things were beginning to stir. Just quietly, a few women (Mary of Magdala, Mary the mother of James, Joanna, Salome, perhaps a few others) gathered together ointments and spices and made their way out of their houses and down through the pre-dawn streets, to pay their last respects to their friend, do their last duty to their master. And so they made their way to the tomb of Jesus son of Mary, Jesus of Nazareth. They thought they knew what they would find there.
It was dawn minus thirty. Day was coming; dawn was soon to break.
Imagine a desert landscape half an hour before dawn. A star glimmers in the east. As you move out into the open you see the moon, almost full, in the west, illumining the landscape – nearby trees, houses, hills, and the mountains beyond. The star in the east has a companion, a lesser satellite, still shining with brightness from the night before. There is a rustle here and there of night sounds. A campfire flickers: it can be rekindled.
The night is far along now, and the day is about to dawn.
We are waiting: you and I, together. We are waiting for the new dawn, the day of the Lord, the day when righteousness and peace will embrace, when swords will be beaten into plowshares and never will nation learn war anymore. We wait for the day when the poor are justified, and receive their due; when the widow and the orphan are protected.
And we are moving: we are not waiting passively, but actively, expectantly, we begin to move into this new day. Because something happened that morning as Pilate slept in; something that Salome and Mary and Joanna did not expect to happen. When they got to the tomb they found not the beginning of eternal night but the rising of a new day, the day of the Lord, just beginning, the day breaking into night’s dominion, bringing peace.
They ran to bring the news of this new day to all the disciples so that they could begin living in it, living into it, living it, as soon as possibly joy could allow.
And so we too are moving, running walking climbing, making our way into the world to let it know that Jesus is alive: the King has come home, the true King, the Messiah indeed, at last, is coming to his own – and his own shall know him and be set free.
He comes to us, this unexpected Jesus, in a form unsuspected: where we look for a king, a royal birth, we find a baby wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger. Where we look for a warrior we find a man of peace. Where we look for a master we find one who empties his self of all majesty and serves. Where we look for an answer, a question:
How are we to live in this new day, the day of the Lord? How are we to announce it?
Every year it comes back around to us, at the top of the year, as we face both backwards into the past – the Nativity of our Lord– and forwards into the future – the Return of the King; and yet at this present moment, when we stand on the precipice of time, we live in the moment of freedom: to find ourselves and define ourselves anew, as people of the passing night or as the people of God, Christ’s children, the Church.
How are we to live at this moment? Whiling away the waning hours of night? Or shall we begin, even now, in this moment, to live as children of the day?
To live as children of the day is to begin to live into God’s kingdom – to take the values Jesus has taught us and without waiting for a big sign in the sky – like the one that says, “Welcome to Las Vegas!” – to say, “Eternal life starts here”, to begin to live that way. O house of Jacob, come, let us walk in the light of the Lord!
We cannot be again what we once were, but we can become what we should be, can be, and are called to be. We cannot recapture lost time, but we can stay focused, keep together, and move forward in the name of Christ, into the redeeming of time: future, present, past – all are made new and whole in the light of Christ.
The ways of the Lord are so precious and true, so giving of life, that Isaiah predicts all nations will come seeking instruction, to learn to walk in the ways of God, and to be shown his pathways. God through the Holy Spirit – and through the Body of Christ – teaches us the way. It is a way that leads to justice, that finds peace, that sees an end to the strife between people and nations – a time so confident of its fruitfulness that the tools of war are no longer needed and can be turned into the tools of productive abundance.
We are his hands and his feet in the world, his voice and his ears, and we are gathered here in this place in this time to embody to the world his message of peace. As we bear forth his message – even in the absurd and timeless form of a baby – we bring the greatest force to bear that the world has ever known: and that force is the love of God.
Irresistible, it moves mountains; immemorial, it lasts forever; inconceivable, it is real… the most real thing of all.
This is the season of advent, of new beginnings, for you, for me, for all of us who live in this world – a new hope is dawning as surely as the light is rising in the East, beyond the mountains, unseen, but closer every moment.
We experience that new hope in our own lives, even in the midst of sorrow. Where Pilate would find only the end of night, the women of Jesus found a new dawn. Where the world runs out its string, there faith begins to take hold. Jesus is with us, even in the darkest hour, just before dawn. And he is our light.
And if we are transparent enough, the light of the love of the Lord shines through us, a beacon for others, beckoning them to join us in this new day.
O come, let us walk in the light of the Lord.
JRL+
The First Sunday of Advent: December 2, 2007
The Church of Saint Alban, Edmonds, Washington.
God, who ever comes to you, draw you to his love, draw you to his light, draw you to himself; and the blessing of God Almighty, the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit, be among you and remain with you always. Amen.
(David Adam, Clouds of Glory, Year A, Advent 1)
Isaiah 2:1-5, Psalm 122/Canticle 15, Romans 13:11-14, Matthew 24:36-44
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