Presentation

Almighty and everliving God, we humbly pray that, as your only-begotten Son was this day presented in the temple, so we may be presented to you with pure and clean hearts by Jesus Christ our Lord; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

Today we celebrate a feast that bears a variety of titles: The Presentation of Christ in the Temple, commonly called The Purification of Saint Mary the Virgin, aka Candlemas - or in Spanish, Candelaria, and also known as The Meeting, as in the meeting of Simeon and Anna with Jesus.

All these titles have meaning, all converge on this day, the feast at the beginning of February, forty days after the Nativity. And on this day, both the day of the parish annual meeting, and of considerable turmoil in our society, there is much to learn from each title.

The Purification:

As Leviticus 12 provides, a mother giving birth is ritually impure and “shall not touch any holy thing or come into the sanctuary until the days of her purification are completed” - in the case of a male child, forty days after she bears her son. Then she shall make an offering at the Temple, including a lamb, or, “If she cannot afford a sheep, she shall take two turtledoves or two pigeons, one for a burnt offering and the other for a purification offering, and the priest shall make atonement on her behalf, and she shall be clean.” 

[“A person in a state of impurity is not allowed to touch holy objects, enter the Temple precincts, partake of sacred foods, or (in the case of a menstruating woman, a woman after childbirth, or a woman with a flux of blood) have marital contact.” ODJR 350] 

In accordance with the law, Mary makes a sacrifice so that she is cleansed from the state of ritual impurity that comes as a result of childbirth. Now she will again be able to participate in the full ceremonial life of her community.

None of this implies sin, just ritual impurity. The point is that she, and Joseph, are completing the fulfillment of the law, as in this as in all things, they are faithful people. Throughout his life, this child, Jesus, fulfills the law, and fulfills the expectation of humanity and the promise of God.

The Presentation:

In presenting her firstborn son to the Lord, Joseph and Mary fulfill the law as laid out in the book of Exodus. 

“Consecrate to me all the firstborn; whatever is the first to open the womb among the Israelites, of human beings and animals, is mine.” (13:2)

“The firstborn of your sons you shall give to me.” (22:29b)

Again the gospel makes the point that in all things Jesus is the fulfillment of the law. 

He is also the fulfillment of promise, and the promise of future fulfillment. 

Anna the prophet “began to praise God and to speak about the child to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem,” – looking for a Savior, the Messiah, to free them from the oppression of sin and the fear of death.

The Meeting: 

And Simeon, “righteous and devout, looking forward to the consolation of Israel,” saw in this child what he had been looking for, even living for. And he took the child into his arms and said a prayer of praise and blessing. 

Anna and Simeon welcomed the child and offered God their blessings and praise. But in their prophetic words was not only hope but a warning. 

A savior for all is not welcomed by some. Having sung his Nunc dimittis, his song of blessing and farewell, Simeon goes on to say to Mary, “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed – and a sword will pierce your own soul too.” 

It will become personal. It may touch you directly. And that is a warning we ourselves may take to heart as well. 

Candlemas/Candelaria:

Over the centuries of the Church, a tradition has formed, to enter the sanctuary in procession on this festival day carrying candles newly blessed, and singing a song - the Nunc dimittis. We bless the candles in worship this Candlemas, this Candelaria, for use throughout the year. These little lights of thine and mine sing out the glory of the Lord, the light of Christ. 

In him appeared life and this life was the light of humankind. The light still shines in the darkness and the darkness has never put it out. (John 1:3-5)

As we bear forth this light into the world we bring with us the good news of the redemption of the world through Christ. And we carry with us the joy and the warning of the prophets. 

[“The messenger of the covenant in whom you delight-- indeed, he is coming, says the Lord of hosts. But who can endure the day of his coming, and who can stand when he appears? For he is like a refiner's fire …”]

We may be called upon to bear uncomfortable witness. In our calling to bear his light into the world, we may ourselves encounter darkness, despair, and fear. But we are not alone, and we are not the first. We follow our Savior’s footsteps.

When Simeon gave his blessing to the Holy Family, I wonder what he said to them. The words most appropriate might well have been these, which the child grown to adulthood said to his own chosen family, his disciples:  

“Blessed are the poor in spirit, for yours is the kingdom of heaven.

“Blessed are you that mourn, for you shall be comforted.

“Blessed are the meek, for you shall inherit the earth.

“Blessed are you that hunger and thirst after righteousness, for you shall receive fullness.

“Blessed are the merciful, for you shall receive mercy.

“Blessed are the pure in heart, for you shall see God.

“Blessed are the peacemakers, for you shall be called children of God.

“Blessed are those who are persecuted for righteousness’ sake, for yours is the kingdom of heaven.

“Blessed are you when people revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward is great in heaven, for in the same way they persecuted the prophets who were before you." 

• Matthew 5:1-12

• Malachi 3:1-4
• Hebrews 2:14-18
• Luke 2:22-40
• Psalm 84
• or Psalm 24:7-10

First Sunday after Christmas

Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s the one to rule them all?

[— and in the darkness bind them!]

In the name of God, source of all being, eternal word, and holy spirit. Amen.

Almighty God, you have poured upon us the new light of your incarnate Word: Grant that this light, enkindled in our hearts, may shine forth in our lives; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen. 

(BCP 1979. Contemporary Collect for the First Sunday after Christmas Day)

Almighty God, who hast given us thy only-begotten Son to take our nature upon him and as at this time to be born of a pure Virgin: Grant that we, being regenerate — born anew – and made thy children by adoption and grace, may daily be renewed by thy Holy Spirit; through the same our Lord Jesus Christ, who liveth and reigneth with thee and the same Spirit, ever one God, world without end. Amen. 

(BCP 1662)

Eternal light, scatter the darkness from our hearts and minds, enlighten our lives with your glory, and give us the power and wisdom to live as sons and daughters of God;  — as children of light — through Jesus Christ our Lord, who is alive and reigns with you, O Father, and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

David Adam, Glimpses of Glory (SPCK, 2000) 18.

What does it mean to be children of light? The first chapter of the gospel of John presents a very different Jesus to our eyes. Christmas morning there was a Baby. Today, the first Sunday after Christmas, we hear that “in the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God” – and that the Word has become flesh: the uncreated source of all being greets us from the cradle. 

Before the beginning the Word was with God. The presence of God among us, Emmanuel, is the Word through whom all things came to be. But the Word was there before – before there was a before! God expressed himself: and that self-expression was with God, and that self-expression was God, for only God could be that Word.

Yet that which caused all things to be, came among us, in the form of Jesus, in whom the fullness of God was pleased to dwell. And for all those who choose to receive him, that very fullness becomes available to us. We can receive it, into ourselves. And live its reality. 

Beyond the duties of church and family and nation, beyond our duties to ourselves, is the gift of following the one true light, found in Christ Emmanuel. God with us. That uncreated light, that presence, is present to us. 

And we can become children of light: as we accept its radiance. 

What does it mean to be children of light? Today when darkness is around us, how do we take in the luminous presence of God and let it shine forth in our lives? 

Only a few days ago the literal darkness of the winter night began to recede as the longest night of the year receded into the past. Only a few days ago the brightness of the everlasting dawning which is the presence of our Savior became manifest, once again, as we welcomed the child Jesus. 

And now we can become children ourselves again as we welcome again the presence of the Lord, the presence of the light, as we receive grace upon grace, love beyond love, in our inner lives – and in our outer lives as well.

Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who’s the one to rule them all? There are plenty of self-nominated candidates who seek to answer this question. In our own past century Mao, Stalin, Saddam Hussein, and others, who put up vast posters of themselves, and statues, pushed themselves forward. Memento Park in Budapest is full of Soviet-era statues of self-nominated angels of light.

Back in the days of the Nativity, there was one simple answer to who is the one to rule them all: “In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus…”

Caesar Augustus was ubiquitous, his image – and his troops – everywhere. Client kings like Herod the Great and his dubious offspring knew who was the boss. All the world — that is, the Roman, ‘civilized’, subjugated, world, knew who was boss. 

He was even proclaimed “savior of the world’ – that Roman world; for he has solved the problem of internecine war and inter-office bickering. No more civil war. Because he had won. He had defeated, and slaughtered, his rivals. Peace. 

Pax Romana. Pax Augusta. Peace in his time. In his way. Under his authority. 

Not.

The little baby we greeted this week of Christmas had something else to say. 

Before Augustus was, I AM. Before the beginning, when there was no light, no life, he was life, and light, and love. What Caesar Augustus ruled was darkness, not light: but there was light beyond.

What came into being

     through the Word was life,

    and the life was the light for all people.

The light shines in the darkness,

    and the darkness doesn’t extinguish the light.

Before Augustus was, I AM. 

Through him all things came to be. The logos, “the eternal word manifest in the reason and order of the cosmos of which it was the creative agent,” was not a new concept to first-century people. 

(Massey Shepherd, The Oxford American Prayer Book Commentary, 1963, 97)

But now– something new. The Word has become flesh, and dwelt among us. 

“This pre-existent, eternal and divine word has now been manifested in the flesh, in the person of Jesus Christ. And that life gives not only light to the understanding,” - intellectual knowledge - “that we may know the truth, but also power to the will, that we may be obedient sons [children] of God. For in Him [Christ] the glory of God was revealed in the fullness of ‘grace and truth.’”

(Massey Shepherd, loc. cit.)

The light still shines in the darkness and the darkness has never put it out.

The creator is not remote; he is Emmanuel: God with us. The word, eternal, became flesh. With us he dwells and so we see his Glory. Glory - light, shining, and more than light: life in essential union with its source. 

Right now, this morning, we remember the child, and the infinite possibility he seems to awaken in us, an infinite possibility for hope and joy. And love.

This little child is revealed in radiance, in sharp contrast to Caesar Augustus, as far from imperial pomp as what power is really all about: a creative, redemptive, power, made perfect in weakness, that means eternal, abundant life, and a light that both illuminates and empowers. 

This little light of mine, comes from that light. To carry that light into the world is our joy and our task. 

Today there are plenty of people who put themselves forward to tell you who is the one to be the leader. Who will the mirror reflect? Who is the one to rule them all? Is it the one we hope to see when we gaze into the mirror? 

If I controlled the clicker that chose the images that the mirror, the flat-screen, on the wall, projected, who would I see? Would I see myself? What would I do to shape that image? What would I not do?

Mirror, mirror, on the wall, who is the one to rule them all?

[– and in the darkness bind them!]

And yet beyond the mirror is the reality of the light. The light that was before all being, creating all and illuminating all. And in that harsh light, that glare of reality and truth, any puny effort to ‘rule them all’ is evident to fail.

We may want to count the cost. To submit ourselves to him, to become children of light, is to give up being our own back-lit mirrors. It is to accept the reality that in him is life and this life is the light of all people. There is no other source. He is the one. 

Thank God.

Eternal light, scatter the darkness from our hearts and minds, enlighten our lives with your glory, and give us the power and wisdom to live as sons and daughters of God;  — as children of light — through Jesus Christ our Lord, who is alive and reigns with you, O Father, and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

David Adam, Glimpses of Glory (SPCK, 2000) 18.

Christmas1

First Sunday after Christmas

● Isaiah 61:10-62:3

● Galatians 3:23-25; 4:4-7

● John 1:1-18

● Psalm 147 or 147:13-21

https://lectionarypage.net/YearABC/Christmas/Christmas1.html

https://ctktucson.org/ 

https://www.facebook.com/ctktucson

JRL+

Be ware of darkness that casts itself as light.

small words

 In the name of God, source of all Being, eternal Word, and holy Spirit. Small words. Big meanings. Spirit. Word. Being. God.

Our first words as children sound small and seem simple. Hot, cold, brother, sister, mine, papa. Mama. But the meanings loom large. When we are small, is there anything more important than what those small words convey? 

The first words of the gospel of John are small words. 

Small words. Large meanings. Light. Life. Word. Flesh.

And then there are the words at the beginning of the four gospels. Matthew begins with a genealogy. Luke begins with birth announcements. Mark starts straight out with the Baptist in the wilderness. The gospel of John begins, “in the beginning” - or rather before. 

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The Word was with God in the beginning. Everything came into being through the Word, and without the Word nothing came into being. What came into being through the Word was life, and this life was the light for all people. The light still shines in the darkness and the darkness has never put it out… The Word became a human being and lived among us. We have seen his glory, glory like that of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.” John 1:1-4, 14.

What this passage has personally meant to me has changed and grown over the years since I first read it. In high school days, “read the gospel of John first” was common advice to prospective converts. 

This advice held for many years for me, until at the suggestion of Carl F. H. Henry, the Key ‘73 initiative chose Luke-Acts for widespread distribution. 

Luke has the familiar Christmas story, with angels and shepherds and all. And Matthew has the magi.

Inter-Varsity used to tell people to read Mark first as the shortest and earliest. Read it without notes or advice, they said, as if it were in a sealed envelope you were opening for the first time.

Which would leave us to read it each with our own peculiar prejudices - or ones easily supplied. 

John however is admittedly abstract - where are we? In the cosmic vision of Christ Pantocrator, all-ruler, as in those Byzantine ceilings. His serene serious visage looms over us, grand and remote. The human Jesus appears later in John, but appear he does.

At first though we have some basic precepts to lay down. The creator is not remote; he is Emmanuel: God with us. 

Jesus was there from the beginning, in fact the beginning of all things began with him: he was already there and all that came into being came through him. Whoa! Heady concept. And how cool is that?

At least I thought so, as a teenager. And I thought I’d got it. At least a grasp on the coattails. How long could I, have I, chewed over the meaning of this passage ever since? And how long and how often have you?

However often we hear it we just seem to spiral deeper into its meaning. Once, some Sundays ago, Deacon Jefferson Bailey and I agreed that when we read the gospel in church, every time it says something new to us - and with the prolog to the gospel of John something deeper emerges. 

Indeed I like what Lesslie Newbigin calls it: not so much a prolog (as to a Shakespeare play) as an overture, as to an opera. And indeed John has everything in it - except the kitchen sink. 

Though it comes close even to that. 

The whole cosmos - the whole created order - is in there for sure, in just the first five sentences.

Julian’s hazelnut or cosmologist’s infinitesimal particle have nothing on John: before it began, he was - he, Jesus, as the Son of God, pre-existed, existed before, anything was made that was made… and so the mind-blowing (as we said in the sixties) phrase … ‘and all that came into being came into being through him.’

Through him all things came to be. The logos, “the eternal word manifest in the reason and order of the cosmos of which it was the creative agent,” was not a new concept to first-century people. 

(Massey Shepherd, The Oxford American Prayer Book Commentary, 1963, 97)

But now– something new. The Word has become flesh, and dwelt among us. 

It all sounds so abstract: source of all being, eternal Word, holy Spirit. 

If you had asked Mary on December 26th if it felt abstract you might have gotten a short answer. Joseph might remark that the organizing principle of the cosmos had just wet himself. 

[We have just heard on Christmas Eve the story of the manger, about the humanness of Jesus, and all of heaven’s glory in a little room. Shepherds kept their watch by night; and angels sang.]

“This pre-existent, eternal and divine word has now been manifested in the flesh, in the person of Jesus Christ. And that life gives not only light to the understanding,” - intellectual knowledge - “that we may know the truth, but also power to the will, that we may be obedient sons [children] of God. For in Him [Christ] the glory of God was revealed in the fullness of ‘grace and truth.’”

(Massey Shepherd, The Oxford American Prayer Book Commentary, 97)

Words. Simple, small, profound: light, life, truth, grace. All in Him.

Water, air, breath, earth, sun : light and life. 

Brother, mother, family, friend, guest : simple small words.

The great ideas are learned early. And last. 

In our lives, in our lives in Christ.

The simple small words of the Gospel, repeated, almost redundant, like the cards laid on the table one by one, or bricks laid one at a time, row by row – or stones, building slowly, row by row, into a great temple. 

Mind, spirit, heart.

The word, eternal, became flesh, and his tabernacle, his tent of meeting, he raised in the midst of the camp, as the sacred central place in the midst of the people of Israel on Sinai. With us he dwells and so we see his Glory. Glory - light, shining, and more than light: life in essential union with its source.

Now this little child is revealed in radiance, in sharp contrast to Caesar Augustus, as far from Roman pomp as what the planet is really all about: a power and a weakness that mean eternal, abundant life, and a light that both illuminates and empowers. 

It is all a bit much for the parents of a small creature, weighing a handful of pounds, and not yet the handful he will become by the age of twelve…  (Remember him in the Temple quizzing the elders?) … or the powerful teacher he will be as a full-grown man.

Here in the swaddling clothes is the mystery of the universe. A feeling common to many parents. Donald Nicholl said that a man gets serious when he becomes a father. (Dorothy, his wife, said for a woman it's as soon as she gets married.) And certainly things got serious for the first family almost immediately: shepherds, angels, soldiers, journey at night. 

Right now, this morning after Christmas morning, we remember the child, and the infinite possibility he seems to awaken in us, an infinite possibility for hope and joy. And love. 

And so as the light has come among us in this little child, this awesome beginning, we can say some more simple words, words Dag Hammarsjkold jotted down in his diary:

• For all that has been— Thanks! 

• To all that will be— Yes!

 (Hammarskjöld, Markings: 6, 83).

May it be so. Always. Amen.

The Overture of Light and Life

2021 12 26

https://www.episcopalchurch.org/lectionary/christmas-1/

Almighty God, you have poured upon us the new light of your incarnate Word: Grant that this light, enkindled in our hearts, may shine forth in our lives; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

• Isaiah 61:10-62:3

• Galatians 3:23-25; 4:4-7

• John 1:1-18

• Psalm 147 or 147:13-21

https://www.lectionarypage.net/YearABC/Christmas/Christmas1.html

First Sunday after Christmas

Episcopal Church of Saint Matthew, Tucson, Arizona. 8:00 am & 10:30 am.

https://stmatthew.azdiocese.org/ sermon on the youtube

(17:15-30:00)

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lcR12Z13dhE

read before burning

"In the beginning was the Word..."

What this passage has personally meant to me has changed and grown over the years since I first read it. In high school days, “read the gospel of John first” was common advice to prospective converts (from American nothingism). This advice held for many years for me, until at the suggestion of Carl F. H. Henry, the Key ‘73 initiative chose Luke-Acts for widespread distribution. 

Luke has the familiar Christmas story, with shepherds and angels and all. And Matthew has the magi.

Inter-Varsity used to tell people to read Mark first as the shortest and earliest. Read it without notes or advice, they said, as if it were in a sealed envelope you were opening for the first time.

Which would leave us to read it each with our own peculiar prejudices - or ones easily supplied. 

John however is admittedly abstract - where are we? In the cosmic vision of Christ Pantocrator, all-ruler, as in those Byzantine ceilings. His serene serious visage looms over us, grand and remote. The human Jesus appears later in John, but appear he does.

At first though we have some basic precepts to lay down. The creator is not remote; he is Emmanuel: God with us. 

Jesus was there from the beginning, in fact the beginning of all things began with him: he was already there and all that came into being came through him. Whoa! Heady concept. And how cool is that?

At least I thought so, as a teenager. And I thought I’d got it. At least a grasp on the coattails. How long could I, have I, chewed over the meaning of this passage ever since? And how long and how often have you?

However often we hear it we just seem to spiral deeper into its meaning. Once, some Sundays ago, Deacon Jefferson Bailey and I agreed that when we read the gospel in church, every time it says something new to us - and with the prolog to the gospel of John something deeper emerges. 

Indeed I like what Lesslie Newbigin calls it: not so much a prolog (as to a Shakespeare play) as an overture, as to an opera. And indeed John has everything in it - except the kitchen sink. 

Though it comes close even to that. 

The whole cosmos - the whole created order - is in there for sure, in just the first five sentences.

Julian’s hazelnut or cosmologist’s infinitesimal particle have nothing on John: before it began, he was - he, Jesus, as the Son of God, pre-existed, existed before, anything was made that was made… and so the mind-blowing (as we said in the sixties) phrase … ‘and all that came into being came into being through him.’

It is all a bit much for the parents of a small creature, weighing a handful of pounds, and not yet the handful he will become by the age of twelve…  (Remember him in the Temple quizzing the elders?) … or the powerful teacher he will mature to be as a full-grown man.

Here in the swaddling clothes is the mystery of the universe. A feeling common to many parents. Donald Nicholl said that a man gets serious when he becomes a father. (Dorothy, his wife, reported it becomes serious for a woman as soon as she is married.) And certainly things got serious for the first family almost immediately: shepherds, angels, soldiers, journey at night. 

Right now, this morning after Christmas morning, we remember the child, and the infinite possibility he seems to awaken in us, an infinite possibility for hope and joy. And love. 

May it be so. Always. Amen.

The Words of Life

 

The Overture of Light and Life

In the name of God, source of all Being, eternal Word, and holy Spirit. Small words. Big meanings. Spirit. Word. Being. God.

Our first words as children sound small and seem simple. Hot, cold, brother, sister, mine, papa. Mama. But the meanings loom large. When we are small, is there anything more important than what those small words convey? 

The first words of the gospel of John are small words. 

Small words. Large meanings. Light. Life. Word. Flesh.

And then there are the words at the beginning of the four gospels. Matthew begins with a genealogy. Luke begins with birth announcements. Mark starts straight out with the Baptist in the wilderness. The gospel of John begins, “in the beginning” - or rather before. 

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. The Word was with God in the beginning. Everything came into being through the Word, and without the Word nothing came into being. What came into being through the Word was life, and this life was the light for all people. The light still shines in the darkness and the darkness has never put it out… The Word became a human being and lived among us. We have seen his glory, glory like that of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.” John 1:1-4, 14.

Through him all things came to be. The logos, [λόγος], “the eternal word manifest in the reason and order of the cosmos of which it was the creative agent,” was not a new concept to first-century people. 

(Massey Shepherd, The Oxford American Prayer Book Commentary, 1963, 97)

But now– something new. The Word has become flesh, and dwelt among us. 

It all sounds so abstract: source of all being, eternal Word, holy Spirit. If you had asked Mary on December 26th if it felt abstract you might have gotten a short answer. Joseph might remark that the organizing principle of the cosmos had just wet himself. 

[We hear on Christmas Eve the story of the manger, about the humanness of Jesus, and all of heaven’s glory in a little room. Shepherds kept their watch by night; and angels sang.]

“This pre-existent, eternal and divine word has now been manifested in the flesh, in the person of Jesus Christ. And that life gives not only light to the understanding,” - intellectual knowledge - “that we may know the truth, but also power to the will, that we may be obedient sons [children] of God. For in Him [Christ] the glory of God was revealed in the fullness of ‘grace and truth.’”

(Massey Shepherd, The Oxford American Prayer Book Commentary, 97)

Words. Simple, small, profound: light, life, truth, grace. All in Him.

Water, air, breath, earth, sun : light and life. 

Brother, mother, family, friend, guest : simple small words.

The great ideas are learned early. And last.

The simple small words of the Gospel, repeated, almost redundant, like the cards laid on the table one by one, or bricks laid one at a time, row by row – or stones, building slowly, row by row, into a great temple. 

Mind, spirit, heart.

The word, eternal, became flesh, and his tabernacle, his tent of meeting, he raised in the midst of the camp, as the sacred central place in the midst of the people of Israel on Sinai. With us he dwells and so we see his Glory. Glory - light, shining, and more than light: life in essential union with its source.

Now this little child is revealed in radiance, in sharp contrast to Caesar Augustus, as far from Roman pomp as what the planet is really all about: a power and a weakness that mean eternal, abundant life, and a light that both illuminates and empowers. 

And so as the light has come among us in this little child, this awesome beginning, we can say some more simple words, words Dag Hammarsjkold jotted down in his diary:

• For all that has been— Thanks! 
• To all that will be— Yes!

 (Hammarskjöld, Markings: 6, 83)

focal point

Episcopalians are a peculiar branch of the Jesus movement. 

We follow Jesus, yes. He is the Word. 

We speak the Word, sing the Word, pray the Word, eat and drink the Word. 

Jesus is 'our meat and drink' - in him is the source of life, and to receive him is to be fed by the staff of life that is the Word.

He is the Word come into the world. And in him we find the ultimate self-revelation of God.

So what is peculiar about that? It infects our worship. We center on the table where we eat and drink. 

Everything that happens in the service leads up to that, from initial prayer and praise and proclamation, through confession and word of grace, to the celebration of the goodness of God in bread and wine.

The focus of our worship is obvious from the shape of our gatherings. Central - where all eyes follow - is the table and on it the cup and the plate, the bread and the wine, the elements of the Holy Eucharist, that is, the Great Thanksgiving. 

On one side you may see the clergy and on the other the choir or servers. The people may look at them from time to time, when they are reading or leading prayers or singing or preaching. 

But all the time the eyes of all are turning to the prize - the  Eucharist, God's presence among us - and we seek no distraction from that. 

Once we have each, as many of us as can, gone up and taken bread and wine, we go out, sent by a deacon's dismissal and a priest's blessing, to carry the Word into the world.

Christmas1

This is the Sunday of Light: of the Light that shines in the Darkness and the Darkness has never put it out.

This is the Sunday we bear witness to the Light: the Light of the Good News of God.

What we have done this year, this past Advent and this ongoing Christmas season, is to bear forth into the world the Good news that is the Light of God incarnate in Jesus Christ.

We do this through our actions, as symbolic as our liturgy, and as concrete as our activity during the week, in the world. We show forth the Light, and we bear witness to it, potentially in all we do.

This past few weeks I have been the grateful witness and participant in many manifestations of the light in the midst of darkness. I have been aware of the darkness, of fear and misunderstanding and willful hate, of ignorance and exclusion and pompous piety. And I have been aware that throughout all of this we the witnesses to the light have not given up.

In fact, we have shone out! – in so many ways…

I see it in the processions – in the All Souls procession from St John the Evangelist parish church down to the mission church of San Xavier, and in Las Posadas right over on South Main Avenue with the schoolchildren of Carrillo School.

I have seen the light of Christ shining, being borne forth by his people.

I have seen it in the pointedly political bi-national Las Posadas on the border in Nogales, with the dioceses of Tucson and Nogales leading, and many people concerned with our border and immigration policy and practices taking part in a mildly long walk.

I have seen it in our Christmas celebrations, in church and community – church in community:

·     Advent Lessons and Carols

·     Bake sale at the Parade of Lights

·     Carols and Beer!

·     Longest Night service – and all our services.

When we take a gift to a friend or a greeting to a neighbor, when we wave someone ahead of us on the street or in line at the grocery store, it may not mean much to us – or to them. But it gets us going. It gets us started on another path than the one that leaves us in shadow.

When on Christmas Eve a few of us were talking through the fine points of the liturgy, Vicar Kate reminded us that the gospel book itself bears witness to the light. When it was carried first in procession, before the story of the Christ Child was read, it was the vessel of illumination. It carried a light that was leading the way – the light of the Good News of God.

As we heard that story again and for the first time that night, we could almost see the glow around the people gathered in the little town where the child lay. There in that faraway place, new Light had come into the world.

It came in dangerous times, in a risky way. It came in by the small door, not through palace gates, but in an ordinary small place.

Light comes to us sometimes without angels – or with only shepherds to witness. Sometimes we are the shepherds, the poor ones trying to keep warm on a cold night – just doing our jobs. But then…

The word comes to us and dwells among us, the word which is the light of all people.

We have a new job to do.

That job – that work – is to bear witness to the Light; what that means, how that plays out for each of us, is the daily task, and the daily opportunity, of our new lives in Christ.

May we as we go forth into the world into this new-coming year, bring with us a little bit of the glow of Christmas night, as we too, like the shepherds and angels before us, try to hold aloft the Light that reveals the truth to all, and the glory to all, of God with us.

Eternal light, scatter the darkness from our hearts and minds, enlighten our lives with you glory, and give us the power and wisdom to live as sons and daughters of God; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who is alive and reigns with you, O Father, and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

First Sunday after Christmas

Isaiah 61:10-62:3

Galatians 3:23-25; 4:4-7

John 1:1-18

Psalm 147 or 147:13-21

David Adam, Glimpses of Glory (SPCK, 2000) 18.

Preached at St Andrew’s Episcopal Church, Tucson, Arizona. Sunday 27 December 2016
JRL+