Joseph

 

These days if you are out in a boat on the sea of Galilee you may be buzzed by a C-130, or if you are in the small hill town of Nazareth by an F-16. Back in Joseph’s day when Zebedee was out on the lake with his two small boys, James and John, teaching them to mind the nets and watch the currents, and when Joseph was using his hands to hew a piece of furniture for a neighbor or build a wall for the nearby new town of Caesarea Philippi, there were no airplanes. There were, however, powerful forces that you could not ignore. 

And that had been true before, and Joseph knew it. In the time of Isaiah the prophet, when Ahaz was king in Jerusalem, the powerful forces that threatened were from the north, the then kingdom of Assyria, and trouble was brewing. Joseph would have known about this, perhaps, and then he would have known about the prophecy that Isaiah gave to his king. Ahaz was probably trembling in his boots - or sandals - knowing much larger kingdoms were arrayed against him, threatening his little hilltop capital. And he would have hoped, as Will Willimon puts it, for an army. But that is not what the Lord sent him. 

And that is not what the Lord sent Joseph, in his day. Joseph lived in the time of Roman occupation and Roman overlordship. Sure, there might have been a king in Jerusalem - but he was Caesar’s buddy Herod. And Caesar had troops handy, as close as Damascus, or closer, to back up Herod. 

So what did the Lord send Ahaz, trembling in his boots, looking to the hills, wondering from whence his help would come? No army. No present help at all, but a promise: a hope. A baby. For behold, a virgin shall bear a child. And that child shall be called “God with us”. 

Linger on that for a moment. Take a break from the threat, the lowering clouds. God with us. That is a promise. That is what the people of God always looked for, always look for: the presence of God among us. That is where salvation lies.

And that is what Isaiah the prophet promised his king. God is with us. And in yet a little while, the threat you fear shall be gone, as certain as the summer sun melts the snow. “Before the child shall know to refuse the evil, and choose the good,” the threat you worry about will be past.

Joseph may have known this history. Of course he knew the rest of history and he knew that history was not over. There was a more modern threat in his time, one more systematic, organized. It was the hegemony of an empire that lasted a thousand years. Rome. (Add another thousand, if you count Constantinople.)

And it was not to be turned over lightly. (Indeed, it was to be shaken - and changed.) 

But there was that promise again. A young woman, a girl, shall conceive and bear a child.

It sounds so passive. All Joseph had to do was wait, right? The summer sun would melt the snow, the oppressive occupiers would fade away, and all would be well.

Not so fast.

And not so easy.

The kingdoms that Isaiah faced, and the empire that Joseph faced, did not disappear with only a promise. Joseph had a hand in what happened next. He took on the challenge. He was not passive, but powerful, with the power only a pair of hands that shaped a future could hold. 

He did not merely accept a promise, and an unwanted challenge, he rose to take them in those work-worn hands of his, and made a future, and made a family. With the family God gave him, he made a future. A future not only for them but for Israel, for the whole people of God.

*** 

In his gospel, Matthew tells the story of the birth of Christ with five significant dreams, and four significant dreamers. The first dreamer, and four of the dreams, belong to Joseph. 

(The other dream, and dreamers, come with the arrival of magi from the East. There will be another dream, and dreamer, in Matthew's Passion.) 

Joseph's first dream was monumental and simple.

Do not put away this woman. Marry her. Raise her son. For in him and in her is the hope of ages. And you have a job to do, a role to play, that is essential to its fulfillment.

And he did.

Joseph, in his dreams, takes place toward the end of the long line of prophets, prophets including Noah, Moses, Elijah, and others. The warning dreams - flee, go back, turn aside - could be those of a troubled man tossing and turning, deciding what to do - and finding the answer in emerging consciousness. The first dream, however, is this and more: for Joseph sees beyond the moment to its deeper meaning.

A professor of mine used to distinguish between what is happening - like little waves on the surface of a lake - and what is really going on - in those deep currents and upwellings of great significance that breach the surface of time in critical moments.

This, Joseph perceived, was one of those moments. This was not just an ordinary occurrence, the unexpected pregnancy of a young woman. If it had been, his initial plan of 'putting her away quietly' - so she could bear her child in rural obscurity - would have been the familiar and highly recommended route. But there was more going on than what just appeared to be happening on the surface. This was the beginning, if Joseph was as docile to the spirit's leading as Mary had been, of the redemption of time.

A woman gets serious about life when she marries, that same professor of mine once said. And a man when he becomes a father. 

Twenty years later his widow, with a wink, said that was certainly true in his case. 

When I think about Joseph this week I think about the trust that was handed to him. The tremendous gift and responsibility of being a husband to Mary and raising her son. The joy and the sorrow that were to come. Of perhaps seeing ahead to her widowhood and bereavement. 

For now though and for years to come he had a wife to care for and a boy to raise. 

Not just any boy. For in him was embodied the promise of ages.

Joseph had an extraordinary trust. This child to raise. This woman to protect, and to love.

God had entrusted him with this charge. It would change the world. And it would change him.

What would it mean, one can only guess, to realize what his dream meant. What a solution it was to the apparent dilemma he had gone to bed with. What a challenge it meant on waking. 

This one, after all the ages, will carry forward what God had been doing all along.

For Joseph was, as a scion of the house of David, an heir to the promise to Israel of a new hope, a messiah, one anointed to bring them freedom from fear, freedom to worship, freedom of speech, freedom from want. Those days of destitution, of oppression, were to end. Freedom as a people. 

It was not to be, not yet. But in this hope of Israel was carried a greater hope: that the joy of God, the life of people in communion with their creator, redeemer, and sanctifier, would encompass all the people of the earth. 

Come to me all ye that are weary and heavy laden, the son would say, and I will give you rest.

Israel had all these centuries carried the trust, the hope and joy and burden and sorrow, of being God’s people, chosen to bear witness to the truth and bear it forward into the world.

God is one. One who loves what God has made. One who does not forget his promise. One who brings hope to the world.

In Jesus, in what he did, the signs and splendors of that hope became visible in the world. It was not the end of suffering but it was the presence of God with us in the midst of travail. 

It was the beginning of the completion of the hope begun in Eden and carried on the cross at Calvary and discovered at the side of an empty tomb, and awaited everywhere after Easter.

The one who was, the one who is, the one who is to come. The hope of the world. 

And it all began with this little baby.

Hold him Joseph, hold him close. And hold his mother beside you.

JRL+

DREAMERS

Purify our conscience, Almighty God, by your daily visitation, that your Son Jesus Christ, at his coming, may find in us a mansion prepared for himself; who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

To keep a Dream Journal was the one requirement of an 'easy pass' course at my college, until the lecturer added a preface to the list. You missed so much if you only took the easy way out. The teacher himself was a poet, and incantatory only begins to describe the recitations of his own poetry that occasionally broke through the drowsy fog of my inattention. The lectures were all recorded, videotaped and transcribed, and published by Black Sparrow Press as "Birth of a Poet" (1982). Yes, these were the lectures of William Everson, beat poet and correspondent of Thomas Merton, known in religion as Brother Antoninus. He believed in dreams' power to speak to us: he was a Jungian, and recommended reading "Three Archetypes" to inform our understanding of ourselves. There was more to the class and to him than I grasped but I do know now that he sought to invite us into our dreams, and into our desires they revealed, and into our own nature in its depths of unconscious longing and fulfillment. 

There have been great dreams. And nightmares. Did you think I would begin with Martin Luther King, Jr., speaking at the Washington Monument in 1963? Or perhaps a 'nightmare' portrait of Romance? But Joseph's dream was different, even unlike the dream of Joseph's interpretation in the land of Egypt, or Jacob's at the bank of the Jordan. It was monumental and simple.

Do not put away this woman. Marry her. Raise her son. For in him and in her is the hope of ages. And you have a job to do, a role to play, that is essential to its fulfillment.

And he did.

*** 

In his telling, his gospel, Matthew tells of the birth of Christ with five significant dreams, and four significant dreamers. The first dreamer, and four of the dreams, belong to Joseph. (The other dream, and dreamers, come with the arrival of magi from the East. There will be another dream, and dreamer, in Matthew's Passion.) 

Joseph, in his dreams, takes place toward the end of the long line of prophets, prophets including Noah, Moses, Elijah, and others. The warning dreams - flee, go back, turn aside - could be those of a troubled man tossing and turning, deciding what to do - and finding the answer in emerging consciousness. The first dream, however, is this and more: for Joseph sees beyond the moment to its deeper meaning.

That same professor of mine used to distinguish between what is happening - like little waves on the surface of a lake - and what is really going on - in those deep currents and upwellings of great significance that breach the surface of time in critical moments.

This, Joseph perceived, was one of those moments. This was not just an ordinary occurrence, the unexpected pregnancy of a young woman. If it had been, his initial plan of 'putting her away quietly' - so she could bear her child in rural obscurity - would have been the familiar and highly recommended route. But there was more going on than what just appeared to be happening on the surface. This was the beginning, if Joseph was as docile to the spirit's leading as Mary had been, of the redemption of time.

It meant the fulfillment of the promise of ages, that Zechariah had greeted in the birth of his son John, and that Anna and Simeon would embrace at the dedication of our Lord in the Temple; that the wise men from the East came and sought, and found, in a cradle. 

http://www.lectionarypage.net/YearA_RCL/Advent/AAdv4_RCL.html

http://edgeofenclosure.org/advent4a.html

https://members.sundaysandseasons.com/Home/TextsAndResources#resources

Donald Nicholl, Holiness in World Religions. Course at the University of California, Santa Cruz, 1979.

 

getting serious

 

A woman gets serious about life when she marries, a college professor of mine once said. And a man when he becomes a father. 

Twenty years later his widow, with a wink, said that was certainly true in his case. 

When I think about Joseph this week I think about the trust that was handed to him. The tremendous gift and responsibility of being a husband to Mary and raising her son. The joy and the sorrow that were to come. Of perhaps seeing ahead to her widowhood and bereavement. 

For now though and for years to come he had a wife to care for and a boy to raise. 

Not just any boy. For in him was embodied the promise of ages.

Joseph had an extraordinary trust. This child to raise. This woman to protect, and to love.

God had entrusted him with this charge. It would change the world. And it would change him.

What would it mean, one can only guess, to realize what his dream meant. What a solution it was to the apparent dilemma he had gone to bed with. What a challenge it meant on waking. 

This one, after all the ages, will carry forward what God had been doing all along.

For Joseph was, as a scion of the house of David, an heir to the promise to Israel of a new hope, a messiah, one anointed to bring them freedom from fear, freedom to worship, freedom of speech, freedom from want. Those days of destitution, of oppression, were to end. Freedom as a people. 

It was not to be, not yet. But in this hope of Israel was carried a greater hope: that the joy of God, the life of people in communion with their creator, redeemer, and sanctifier, would encompass all the people of the earth. 

Come to me all ye that are weary and heavy laden, the son would say, and I will give you rest.

Israel had all these centuries carried the trust, the hope and joy and burden and sorrow, of being God’s people, chosen to bear witness to the truth and bear it forward into the world.

God is one. One who loves what God has made. One who does not forget his promise. One who brings hope to the world.

In Jesus, in what he did, the signs and spenders of that hope became visible in the world. It was not the end of suffering but it was the presence of God with us in the midst of travail. 

It was the beginning of the completion of the hope begun in Eden and carried on the cross at Calvary and discovered at the side of an empty tomb, and awaited everywhere after Easter.

The one who was, the one who is, the one who is to come. The hope of the world. 

And it all began with this little baby.

Hold him Joseph, hold him close. And hold his mother beside you.

Ahaz

Isaiah 7:10-16 (Common English Bible)

Again the Lord spoke to Ahaz: “Ask a sign from the Lord your God. Make it as deep as the grave or as high as heaven.” But Ahaz said, “I won’t ask; I won’t test the Lord.” Then Isaiah said, “Listen, house of David! Isn’t it enough for you to be tiresome for people that you are also tiresome before my God? Therefore, the Lord will give you a sign. The young woman is pregnant and is about to give birth to a son, and she will name him Immanuel. He will eat butter and honey, and learn to reject evil and choose good. Before the boy learns to reject evil and choose good, the land of the two kings you dread will be abandoned.

These days if you are out in a boat on the sea of Galilee you may be buzzed by a C-130, (“reminding you who’s boss”, as one of my fellow pilgrims said in January 2015), or if you are in the small hill town of Nazareth by an F-16. Back in Joseph’s day when Zebedee was out on the lake with his two small boys, James and John, teaching them to mind the nets and watch the currents, and when Joseph was using his hands to hew a piece of furniture for a neighbor or build a wall for the nearby new town of Caesarea Philippi, there were no airplanes. There were, however, powerful forces that you could not ignore. 

And that had been true before, and Joseph knew it. In the time of Isaiah the prophet, when Ahaz was king in Jerusalem, the powerful forces that threatened were from the north, the then kingdom of Assyria, and trouble was brewing. Joseph would have known about this, perhaps, and then he would have known about the prophecy that Isaiah gave to his king. Ahaz was probably trembling in his boots - or sandals - knowing much larger kingdoms were arrayed against him, threatening his little hilltop capital. And he would have hoped, as Will Willimon puts it, for an army. But that is not what the Lord sent him. 

And that is not what the Lord sent Joseph, in his day. Joseph lived in the time of Roman occupation and Roman overlordship. Sure, there might have been a king in Jerusalem - but he was Caesar’s buddy Herod. And Caesar had troops handy, as close as Damascus, or closer, to back up Herod. 

So what did the Lord send Ahaz, trembling in his boots, looking to the hills, wondering from whence his help would come? No army. No present help at all, but a promise: a hope. A baby. For behold, a virgin shall bear a child. And that child shall be called “God with us”. 

Linger on that for a moment. Take a break from the threat, the lowering clouds. God with us. That is a promise. That is what the people of God always looked for, always look for: the presence of God among us. That is where salvation lies.

And that is what Isaiah the prophet promised his king. God is with us. And in yet a little while, the threat you fear shall be gone, as certain as the summer sun melts the snow. “Before the child shall know to refuse the evil, and choose the good,” the threat you worry about will be past.

Joseph may have known this. Of course he knew the rest of history and he knew that history was not over. There was a more modern threat in his time, one more systematic, organized. It was the hegemony of an empire that lasted a thousand years. Rome. (Add another thousand, if you count Constantinople.)

And it was not to be turned over lightly. (Indeed, it was to be changed.) 

But there was that promise again. A young woman, a girl, shall conceive and bear a child.

It sounds so passive. All Joseph had to do was wait, right? The summer sun would melt the snow, the oppressive occupiers would fade away, and all would be well.

Not so fast.

And not so easy.

The kingdoms that Isaiah faced, and the empire that Joseph faced, did not disappear with only a promise. Joseph had a hand in what happened next. He took on the challenge. He was not passive, but powerful, with the power only a pair of hands that shaped a future could hold. 

He did not merely accept a promise, and an unwanted challenge, he rose to take them in those work-worn hands of his, and made a future, and made a family. With the family God gave him, he made a future. A future not only for them but for Israel, for the whole people of God.

****

A version of this article, entitled "Look for the presence of God", was published in the Keeping the Faith feature of the Arizona Daily Star, Sunday, December 25, 2022.

https://tucson.com/lifestyles/faith-and-values/look-for-the-presence-of-god/article_5d25ab5c-8079-11ed-8162-bfebc05400f5.html

_______

1911 Encyclopædia Britannica/Caesarea Philippi: CAESAREA PHILIPPI, the name of a town 95 miles N. of Jerusalem, 35 miles S.W. from Damascus, 1150 ft. above the sea, on the south base of Hermon, and at an important source of the Jordan. It does not certainly appear in the Old Testament history, though identifications with Baal-Gad and (less certainly) with Laish (Dan) have been proposed. It was certainly a place of great sanctity from very early times, and when foreign religious influences intruded upon Palestine, the cult of its local numen gave place to the worship of Pan, to whom was dedicated the cave in which the copious spring feeding the Jordan arises. It was long known as Panium or Panias, a name that has survived in the modern Banias. When Herod the Great received the territory from Augustus, 20 B.C., he erected here a temple in honor of his patron; but the re-foundation of the town is due to his son, Philip the Tetrarch, who here erected a city which he named Caesarea in honor of Tiberius, adding Philippi to immortalize his own name and to distinguish his city from the similarly-named city founded by his father on the sea-coast. Here Christ gave His charge to Peter (Matt. xvi. 13). Many Greek inscriptions have been found here, some referring to the shrine. Agrippa II. changed the name to Neronias, but this name endured but a short while. Titus here exhibited gladiatorial shows to celebrate the capture of Jerusalem. The Crusaders took the city in 1130, and lost it to the Moslems in 1165. Banias is a poor village inhabited by about 350 Moslems; all round it are gardens of fruit-trees. It is well watered and fertile. There are not many remains of the Roman city above ground. The Crusaders’ castle of Subeibeh, one of the finest in Palestine, occupies the summit of a conical hill above the village.

Getting Ready for the Baby

This is the season of Advent – a season of joyful preparation and solemn anticipation. We know that the Child will come – but the season begins with portents of the end of time.

We know that at the end of all things, when the constructions of the last empire are down for good and all creation groans for redemption, our savior comes. He comes to judge and he comes to redeem.

He comes, not on our timetable, not when or where we want him to come, nor how. He does not come riding to our rescue in the last reel of the movie. Much as we want him to.

He comes to us, first, not in power and might, but in mystery and quiet.

He comes to us, he is already here.

Here, in our hearts – if we follow the one true God, adoring and worshipping him who created all things.

Here, in our hearts – if we ask him to come.

If we are ready.

On my mother’s kitchen bulletin board is a snapshot of a mother with three children, one standing and looking toward the camera, one squirming out of her lap, and another holding in his hand a cowboy hat on top of a stick. Why?

Because this is to be a photograph of my mother with all her children – and the one with the hat knows a fourth child is coming. So he represents the fourth child with a cowboy hat. He does not know much else about the coming child – he just knows that the child is coming and that the family is getting ready for the baby.

The family with the snapshot (you can see Dad’s shadow from behind the camera) knows they want their new member to be safe, and they want to get the stuff together they will need to welcome the baby. They are getting excited.

Maybe they will paint the baby’s room – not sure whether to paint it pink or blue they might paint it yellow or green. They are going to be getting gifts – things they will need to take care of the baby, things that will be fun or silly, toys for the baby to play with, or objects that it will admire.

They will want to nurture the baby. And they will be thinking about names.

Mary and Joseph had a slightly different situation. They knew some things about the baby that was on the way. In fact, a lot, if they had been reading the Hebrew Scriptures.

They had already received a suggestion of what to name the baby – Emmanuel, “God with us.” They probably counted on a boy. They certainly wondered if the baby would be safe. And if they had any ambitions about painting the baby’s room first they would need to know where that room would be.

They were soon to be amazed with an array of gifts. Gifts were coming that would tell them a lot about their baby – or confirm for them what they already suspected.

Strangers would deliver the gifts they were going to receive: first came shepherds and angels, and then Magi, wise people from the East who had “seen his star.” (Other visitors would come but they would come too late – and miss the baby.)

This baby was bound to cause excitement. All babies do. And each baby is special. This one had some extra excitement to generate.

The wise people came to adore him. They greeted him as King of the Jews.

Nobody else would call him that for a long time. And when anybody did again, it would be – a sign that he was not safe, and confirmation that his name really mattered and that he really was King.

But for now – there is a baby on the way.

A baby – not very royal looking at all. A baby – defenseless, quiet or crying, in need of nurture and safety and warmth, and in need of love.

A baby – in whom the hopes of all humanity are raised.

A baby…

The One who will come in power, the one who will bring with him the consummation of time – the Alpha and the Omega – first comes to us like this.

He comes to us, quiet, mysterious, in longing for us just as we are longing for him.

How shall we get ready for the baby?



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tveucharist.org for broadcast the first Sunday in Advent 2011

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I don't think so, said Ahaz....

O God, make speed to save us: O Lord, make haste to help us.

What if he doesn’t show up?

What if he does?

Imagine what it was like. Ahaz, king of Judah, sees himself being surrounded. The king of Israel – the northern kingdom - and the king of Damascus have formed an alliance, to counter the giant power of the time, Assyria. They want Ahaz, and Judah, to join their alliance.

I don’t think so, says Ahaz.

So they plot his overthrow, and to replace him with a puppet king.

Isaiah the prophet tells Ahaz not to worry – soon all these people will be dead and gone. Do not put your trust in earthly powers…

If you do not stand firm in faith, you shall not stand at all.

Ask for a sign, Ahaz, anything at all, high or low.

I don’t think so, says Ahaz.

I will not ask, and I will not test the Lord.

Exasperated with Ahaz’ intransigence, the prophet says fine, God will give you a sign anyway, by himself.

A girl is going to have a baby.

A girl is going to have a baby! That’s all you got?

My kingdom is about to be overrun – by my friends, thank you very much – if my enemies don’t get here first.

Maybe (he muses) I should cut a deal…

And he does. Ahaz cuts a deal – with Assyria, and becomes a vassal to their king, and Judah a client state of the Assyrian Empire.

Ahaz did not listen to Isaiah or ask for the sign – or see the sign – of God’s promise. He gave up.

If you do not stand firm in faith, you shall not stand at all.

Assyria absorbs the Northern Kingdom, the kingdom of Israel. Not long after, within a generation, Babylon captures Judah and its people, its leaders, go into exile and slavery.

Centuries go by. Now the people of the promise are under the thumb of Rome and its client ruler Herod.

A prophet went to Ahaz. An angel comes to Joseph.

Joseph was troubled. His betrothed was pregnant.

A girl is going to have a baby.

That’s the message the angel gives him.

A girl is going to have a baby.

Your girl.

What should he do?

The angel - the messenger of God - says to Joseph, don’t worry. Marry the girl. Her child will be the savior of his people. He will be the truth of the prophet Isaiah, “God is with us.”

Joseph says, Amen.

And so it was – and is.

Obedience, not fears, carries the day. Joseph accepts the promise and acts to carry it to fulfillment. In faith he takes Mary as his wife. And as the angel commanded he names the child Jesus, which means, GOD SAVES.

Jesus – Joshua – Y’shua: GOD SAVES.

And so the Holy Family begins its journey – its journey of faith, where the word of God led them. They travel where Israel traveled, down to Egypt to exile and return, and they come to settle down in a village in the north country called Nazareth.

From there the word goes out – the living Word, Jesus: GOD SAVES.

And he does. And he will.

God is active in the world, moving his people to salvation, moving them from despair to hope, from insufficiency to prosperity, from fear to freedom.

God saves. Joseph believes it –

May we like Joseph welcome the immanent birth of the Christ Child. May we welcome the news that something extraordinary is being borne into the world at Christmas. May we husband the bearers of that gladness, and nurture its small beginnings until great things are done.

Fragile, powerful, the gift of grace comes towards us –

Shall we respond like Ahaz? I don’t think so.

Or shall we respond like Joseph? And follow the message of the Lord.

Restore us, O God of hosts; shine upon us and save us. Let your hand be upon the Son of Man, the one you have sent. Give us life that we may praise your name.

Paul served Christ as a messenger, an apostle,
sent forth for the good news of God,
good news of the Son of Man,
the Son of God,
the one through whom we receive grace,
the one who sends us out into the world with good news,
who calls us into obedience,
who calls us into belonging,
who invites us to be his own,
and who gives us the strength,
the grace,
the peace,
to be his people,
to live in faith,
and stand in faith:
living into his promise,
our assurance is this:
God is with us.


You and I are called
to belong to Jesus,
to spread the good news,
to live the good news,
to be the good news of Jesus,
in this place,
in this time,
to each other,
to the people around us,
to the world beyond –

We are called
and we are promised:
God is with us.

Restore us O God of hosts, show the light of your countenance, and we shall be saved, and we shall live to praise your name. Amen.

Come, Lord Jesus.



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Isaiah 7:10-16
Psalm 80:1-7, 16-18
Romans 1:1-7
Matthew 1:18-25

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a little lower than the angels

Most High, glorious God,
enlighten the darkness of my heart
and give me true faith,
certain hope and perfect charity,
sense and knowledge, Lord,
that I may carry out
Your holy and true command.

Job was blameless and upright, he feared God and shunned evil, and yet he experienced sudden disaster. He did not despair, he trusted God. He even accepted God as the source of all being, and so of both good and evil. He kept faith; he knew God would – somehow.

The psalm in response today, Psalm 26, gives voice to someone like Job: I have lived with integrity, I have walked faithfully with you, through faith my foot stands on level ground – I stand on solid ground.

The letter to the Hebrews reminds us of another human being, a son of man: blameless, upright, God-fearing and obedient, he too experienced disaster, and yet he did not despair, he trusted God, and he accepted from God both good and evil. Even in the darkest night still his trust was unwavering.

It is this one whom we celebrate today, and every week – in his sacrifice and his redemption of our souls, in his resurrection and ascension – Jesus Christ.

Hebrews gives us a veritable hymn of praise to the Son of God:
• the heir of all things,
• through whom God created all worlds;
• the reflection of God’s glory,
• the exact imprint of God’s very being;
• through his mighty word he sustains all things;
• he sat down at the right hand of the Father, the Majesty on high;
• he is above all angels …
and yet, he became one of us

What kind of God is this? Why does God bother with us?

What is man, that thou art mindful of him *
and the son of man, that thou visitest him?
Thou madest him lower than the angels *
to crown him with glory and worship.
Thou makest him to have dominion of the works of thy hands *
and thou hast put all things in subjection under his feet;

(Psalm 8:4-6, Coverdale translation)

And yet the holy one who sits at the right hand of the Father came to us, became himself for a little while lower than the angels, that he might take us with him into glory. He led the way, through death to eternal life. God for whom and through whom all things exist, sent his only begotten one to save us – that is, to bring us with him into the heavenly kingdom, the right relationship with God, that is purchased for us with his own sacrifice.

This is the one whom the Pharisees tested – once, asking if it were lawful to give tribute to Caesar (“render unto Caesar what belongs to Caesar”); now, posing the puzzler is it lawful for a man to divorce his wife? Damned if you do, damned if you don’t: flout the Torah, or offend the king— for Herod Antipas had married Herodias, his brother Philip’s wife. It seems there were two schools of thought – that the only grounds for divorce were adultery, or that pretty much any thing would do, if a man wanted to change wives.

Jesus kicks out both possibilities. He puts the whole thing on a higher plane. The purpose of marriage is not self-gratification or social convenience; it is part of the plan of God for humankind. The man – note, the husband and not the wife – will leave his family of origin and become one with his wife. They are now one flesh. So do not drive apart those God has joined together.

The law is a guide to conduct but it is inadequate in itself, as are we. The spirit must guide us into grace, whether we are married or separate or single.

We may practice grace wherever we are, whatever our situation.

This is carried through in the next section of the gospel, when Jesus rebukes the disciples who are shooing away parents seeking a blessing from him.

People were bringing little children to him in order that he might touch them [so they would receive a blessing]; and the disciples spoke sternly to them.

But when Jesus saw this, he was indignant and said to them, ‘Let the little children come to me; do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs. Truly I tell you, whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it.’ And he took them up in his arms, laid his hands on them, and blessed them.

What is it about these kids that makes them worthy when grownups aren’t—or think they’re not? Is it their innocent, humble, obedient, trusting nature?

Remember, Jesus was a kid himself— so don’t try to kid him on this one.

More likely it was that the kingdom of heaven, the establishment of God’s eternal reign of peace and justice on earth, needed to begin with a child. It needed to begin with the least of the least of humankind, the most vulnerable — for in that society, children were almost invisible, and often bore the brunt of adult behavior they could not control or defend themselves from.

Ched Myers, citing family systems therapists like Alice Miller, observes: “The child is always the primary victim of practices of domination within the family.” If there is something wrong at home, the child pays the price. This cycle of oppression and depression, that many a child knows first-hand, leads to rage, mourning, … or reconciliation, transcendence, if somehow the child learns first-hand of unconditional love, of acceptance, here and now.

There was a child who knew this from the inside, not in a particularly violent way, but in a still typically sad way, with loneliness (on both sides) and misunderstanding. In the town of Assisi in Italy, there lived a cloth merchant with a pious wife – his name was Pietro, hers was Pica. They had a son, whom the church baptized Giovanni, until his father came home and got it changed to Francesco.

That’s Francis, the little Frenchman – because the dad had a plan for him.

Francis became the clotheshorse, the runway model, the shill, for his father’s products, all imports from France. Francis became a walking showroom. And his father set him up, with finery and money, so that he could makes friends for himself, and customers for his father, among the rich young men of the town.

The plan worked— for awhile… Francis became the life of the party, the popular one among the popular. He sang French songs, troubadour songs, of love and romance and high adventure.

He dreamt of going on crusade— the opportunity came, and his father kitted him out. But there was something missing. And after one mishap or another, something in Francis gave way. He began to have a series of visions, of a larger life, a stronger vocation, than the one his father had in mind for him, or he had for himself. There was another Father with another plan.

God called Francis out of this difficult relationship with his father in a rather dramatic way. Francis got the idea to help rebuild a rundown little chapel, San Damiano, and so he loaded up his horse (his father’s horse, really) with cloth from his father’s shop and rode off to the next town, where he sold – for an honest price – both goods and pony. He walked back with the money, which he offered to the priest in the little church. Something fishy. The gift was turned back – and Francis threw the money in a corner. Drama.

Dad hauled him before the bishop, and in the middle of the town square, in front of God and everybody, demanded: Give me back everything you’ve had from me! All right. Francis, realizing that everything he had, down to the clothes on his back, had been supplied by his father, gave it all back – down to the clothes on his back. There he stood, completely naked and out of luck, in the middle of the town square, alone – in front of everybody, and God.

The bishop clothed him quickly in his own chasuble, and Francis later dug out an under-gardener’s cast-off cloak, on which he happily chalked a cross.

Dramatic and a bit weird, Francis embodied in his own way the utter dependence on God alone that really lies underneath all our lives. While it is not necessary for most of us to reject all we have had from Mom and Dad – it is necessary to realize that we are not sufficient in ourselves. The law is inadequate in itself, and so are we. We cannot make it on our own. We need help – we need grace. And by Christ we receive it – by this very one who was humble enough, obedient enough, truly innocent and totally faithful, who accepted on our behalf sufferings beyond the sufferings of Job – this one whose passion exceeded any human patience, took on himself a cross, and gave his life that we might find ours at last in his self-offering love.

Welcome to the family of Christ. Welcome to the kingdom of God.

With Christ our brother and the love of God before us, we can let go of the false hopes of self-sufficiency, acknowledge our dependence on the one beyond all names, and receive with gladness the everlasting gift of life.

Most high, omnipotent, good Lord, grant your people grace to renounce gladly the vanities of this world; that, following the way of blessed Francis, we may for love of you delight in Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.


The Lord bless you and keep you;
the Lord make his face to shine upon you, and be gracious to you;
the Lord lift up his countenance upon you, and give you peace.

(Numbers 6:24-26)




St Alban’s Episcopal Church, Edmonds, Wash.,
October 4, 2009, the 18th Sunday after Pentecost, Year B, Proper 22, RCL:

Job 1:1; 2:1-10
Psalm 26
[or Genesis 2:18-24, Psalm 8]
Hebrews 1:1-4; 2:5-12
Mark 10:2-16

JRL+

in the waiting room

Last Tuesday I made a mistake: I went to Urgent Care without my copy of War and Peace. I had a long wait. I am not sure I used it as well as I could.

Waiting for the Christ to come may feel a bit like waiting to be treated in Urgent Care. You get a few promises up front, and are told to wait.

Hours go by. What is going on? When will I be seen? Have I been forgotten? When will I be treated? When will I be whole again?

But that’s not it. There is more to the story.

Waiting for the Christ to come may feel even more like reading War and Peace. While you are in it, it is totally absorbing. Then eventually you finish the book.

All those characters, all those people you have met, even friends you have made among them, now disappear into a past memory, only a haze. You are no longer in the world of the novel: now you are in the “real world.”

Of course characters in a novel are merely shadows in a play. But we might feel like that ourselves, sometimes. This world may seem a brief and transitory place. Real life lies ahead, as well as all around us (though hidden), in the mystery of Christ and of the Resurrection.

And this is like Paul’s comment, “now we see as through a glass darkly: then we shall see face to face.” Imagine what it will be like to see Christ in person.

Every week when we take communion, and at holiday times like Christmas when we remember loved ones, we put ourselves in touch with not only those who like us see through a glass darkly, those who are living, but also with those who have gone on before us to see God face to face. We ourselves are not ready, we protest, for such a blessing. Just a little bit more time, please.

In his mercy God is preparing us so that when we do meet him face to face, in the life to come, we will be able to stand it. That “glass darkly” is a little like the smoked glass you used to watch an eclipse through; it kept you from being dazzled by too much light.

These eyes, that dazzled now and weak,
At glancing motes in sunshine wink,
Shall see the King’s full glory break,
Nor from the blissful vision shrink:

In fearless love and hope uncloyed
For ever on that ocean bright
Empowered to gaze; and undestroyed
Deeper and deeper plunge in light.

(John Keble, “Fourth Sunday in Advent”, The Christian Year)

We need to be prepared, so that—not on our own merits but by the grace of Christ—when we see God face to face we will be able to stand it.

A foretaste of that glory is ours today, in the mystery of the coming of Christ. And a foretaste of that mercy is ours as well, for God came to us not in the form of a ruler or a man of power (much as we might have hoped for that) but in the form of a helpless baby. He comes as prince of peace.

As Luther said, “Divinity may terrify us. Inexpressible mystery will crush us. That is why Christ took on our humanity, save for sin, that he should not terrify us but rather that with love and favor he should console and confirm. …he is come, not to judge you, but to save.”

(Roland H. Bainton, ed., The Martin Luther Christmas Book, Philadelphia: Fortress Press, 1948, p. 40)

Salvation, however, does not wait. The message of Jesus, and the joy of life with him, is not postponed until some later time, after death or the second coming. It is present with us here and now, brought forth for us first in the tiny manger-dweller we meet on Christmas morning.

In this humble and innocent form comes to us the majesty of God. In other words, we find God not in inaccessible realms of glory but in day-to-day, even humble, form.

And we continue to find him, in practical terms, in loving God in our neighbor.

“You have Christ in your neighbor. You ought to serve him, for what you do to your neighbor in need you do to the Lord Christ himself.” (Luther, p. 38)

Even as we place our neighbor in the place of Christ, serving God in our neighbor, we begin to take on the characteristics Christ showed for us on Christmas morning.

He, the Son of God, being above all angels, did not take equality with God as a thing to be grasped onto, but allowed himself to be emptied into the form of a child, a helpless human infant. And then he began to serve.

“For unto you is born this day—that is, unto us. For our sakes he has taken flesh and blood from a woman, [so] that his birth might become our birth. I too may boast that I am a son of Mary. This is the way to observe this feast—that Christ be formed in us.” (Luther, p. 44)

And this is the secret: Christ in you, the hope of Glory. This is the season of a new birth—not only the birth of the Messiah 2000 years ago but also his emergence within our lives, as we become formed into the people God has called us to be.


JRL+

December 23, 2007
Saint Alban’s Episcopal Church
Edmonds, Washington