We were just ordinary men trying to make a living - out in the fields all night, guarding the flock, keeping watch. We had seen a lot of strange things, at night, out in the fields. We had our share of bear stories, wolf stories; we'd fought lions.
But we had never seen anything like this. Right in the middle of an ordinary night, right in the middle of an ordinary job, something broke through from a realm beyond our sight.
A choir of heavenly messengers filled our eyes. Unto you, they sang - unto you! Salvation comes, the king is born, God has fulfilled his promise. Go and see: go into the town and look for a baby, an ordinary baby, all wrapped up and ready for bed, but sleeping in a manger -- that's him.
That BABY is God incarnate: a baby lying in a manger, gently breathing, his folks standing by. This is the sign of God that everyone has been waiting for. This is the Messiah, the King of Kings, the Son of David, Christ Almighty -- don't you want to tell somebody about it?
We're no angels. We're just shepherds, working the night shift on a far hillside. The mother herself saw no angels tonight, only us -- bringing the message, confirming what she knew in her heart, that today, in the City of David, is born a Savior, who is Christ the Lord.
How then on an ordinary day are you to recognize the Christ Child? How is he born in your life -- in your town?
You go about your business in your ordinary way -- and yet: something extraordinary is happening even now, in your heart, in your life, in your will. Christ is being born. God has sent his Redeemer to you, to establish the way of peace, to bring righteousness and peace to the world he has made, to the person he has made, to you.
JRL+
Christmas, Christmas Eve, Luke 1:1-20, John 1:1-14 (15-18), Isaiah 9:2-7, Titus 2:11-14,Isaiah 62:6-7, Psalm 96, Psalm 97, Psalm 98, Titus 3:4-7, Hebrews 1:1-4
Herbert O'Driscoll, The Word Today (Anglican Book Centre)
Fred B. Craddock et al., Preaching through the Christian Year (Trinity Press International)
St Alban's Episcopal Church
Edmonds, Washington
Monday, December 24, 2007
Sunday, December 23, 2007
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
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
Sunday, December 16, 2007
first cousins, once removed
John came like Elijah through the wilderness, calling the people to turn away from falsehood, to turn back to their true allegiance, to Almighty God. He called them to repent: to start clean, to be washed in the waters of the Jordan as their spiritual forefathers had when first they walked into the land of the promise.
He called them. He was a “voice crying out in the wilderness: ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.’” He was the herald, the fore-runner: coming before, bearing glad tidings. The message he brought, to prepare the way of the Lord, is a message of impending – JOY.
And his joy is to be made complete in the coming of the Christ. “Are you the one we have been waiting for?” he asks Jesus; and the answer is YES! Look around you: see what is going on, what is happening. It is just beginning, but it is beginning to break through: the kingdom of heaven is at hand!
We look ahead this Sunday from the midst of Advent’s expectation to its fulfillment in the joy of Christmas. We light the pink candle. Today is “Gaudete Sunday”; “guadete” means REJOICE! Rejoice in the coming of the Savior. In the words of the 14th Century hymn:
Rejoice! Rejoice! Christ is born of the Virgin Mary: rejoice!
The time of grace has come for which we have prayed; let us devoutly sing songs of joy.
God is made man while nature wonders; the world is renewed by Christ the King.
Therefore let our assembly sing praises now; at this time of preparation, let it bless the Lord. Greetings to our King!
Rejoice! Rejoice! Christ is born of the Virgin Mary: rejoice!
And so we have a messenger who calls on us to prepare the way, to make room in our hearts and in our lives for the coming of the true King.
Let me read you a story. It is a story of some people, a boy and two girls, and some animals – beavers – who are traveling through a winter-bitten frozen landscape, running from the evil witch who has cast a spell on the land, where now it is “always winter and never Christmas!”
They run, and they hide, and they spend the night in a lonely cave, and even in their dreams they are pursued by the White Witch in her sledge drawn by tiny reindeer the color of snow.
They wake, and they do hear the bells of a sleigh. Mr. Beaver goes out to investigate. The children, and Mrs. Beaver, hear voices. They are alarmed. Is it the White Witch? Then comes Mr. Beaver’s reassuring voice:
[The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, by C. S. Lewis, chapter 10]
And so you see Santa Claus came to Narnia. And he brought presents: TOOLS NOT TOYS – to equip the humans for the tasks ahead.
John the Baptist, as he called on people to prepare the way, provided a gift of a different sort: a clearing out, a ‘re-set’, and a readiness to start over and start fresh. Then the gifts become real. They become necessary – as the Savior comes.
Jesus, when he approached, began with the working of healing: the blind see, the deaf hear, the lame walk, and this last: the poor are gladdened. They are glad because the Kingdom is coming, the reign of God on earth when all will be put to rights.
If you know your Narnia you know this is Aslan’s job: to overthrow the false reign of the White Witch, to set everything to rights, to release captives, to warm the frozen, to restore the lost, and to protect the innocent.
This is indeed the Day of the Lord that John proclaimed.
Son of Elizabeth, Mary’s cousin, John grew up as one set apart, with a duty to perform. He was the one to prepare the way: and to herald the coming of the Messiah.
And this is what Mary was expecting Jesus to do: in her magnificent song of expectation and of triumph, she proclaims the greatness of God, who looks with favor on his lowly servant, and who brings to her and through her – in the bearing of the Christ Child – the time of grace for which we have prayed.
Therefore let our assembly sing praises now at this time of preparation; let us bless the Lord: Greetings to our King!
Rejoice! Rejoice! Christ is born of the Virgin Mary; rejoice!
______________
C. S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (Macmillan, 1950) Chapter Ten: The Spell Begins to Break.
The Shorter New Oxford Book of Carols, edited by Hugh Keyte and Andrew Parrott (Oxford University Press, 1993), Carol 24, Gaudete!
David Adam, Clouds and Glory (SPCK, 2001) 3rd Sunday of Advent.
Isaiah 35:1-10, James 5:7-10, Matthew 11:2-11, Canticle 15
He called them. He was a “voice crying out in the wilderness: ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.’” He was the herald, the fore-runner: coming before, bearing glad tidings. The message he brought, to prepare the way of the Lord, is a message of impending – JOY.
And his joy is to be made complete in the coming of the Christ. “Are you the one we have been waiting for?” he asks Jesus; and the answer is YES! Look around you: see what is going on, what is happening. It is just beginning, but it is beginning to break through: the kingdom of heaven is at hand!
We look ahead this Sunday from the midst of Advent’s expectation to its fulfillment in the joy of Christmas. We light the pink candle. Today is “Gaudete Sunday”; “guadete” means REJOICE! Rejoice in the coming of the Savior. In the words of the 14th Century hymn:
Rejoice! Rejoice! Christ is born of the Virgin Mary: rejoice!
The time of grace has come for which we have prayed; let us devoutly sing songs of joy.
God is made man while nature wonders; the world is renewed by Christ the King.
Therefore let our assembly sing praises now; at this time of preparation, let it bless the Lord. Greetings to our King!
Rejoice! Rejoice! Christ is born of the Virgin Mary: rejoice!
And so we have a messenger who calls on us to prepare the way, to make room in our hearts and in our lives for the coming of the true King.
Let me read you a story. It is a story of some people, a boy and two girls, and some animals – beavers – who are traveling through a winter-bitten frozen landscape, running from the evil witch who has cast a spell on the land, where now it is “always winter and never Christmas!”
They run, and they hide, and they spend the night in a lonely cave, and even in their dreams they are pursued by the White Witch in her sledge drawn by tiny reindeer the color of snow.
They wake, and they do hear the bells of a sleigh. Mr. Beaver goes out to investigate. The children, and Mrs. Beaver, hear voices. They are alarmed. Is it the White Witch? Then comes Mr. Beaver’s reassuring voice:
[The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, by C. S. Lewis, chapter 10]
And so you see Santa Claus came to Narnia. And he brought presents: TOOLS NOT TOYS – to equip the humans for the tasks ahead.
John the Baptist, as he called on people to prepare the way, provided a gift of a different sort: a clearing out, a ‘re-set’, and a readiness to start over and start fresh. Then the gifts become real. They become necessary – as the Savior comes.
Jesus, when he approached, began with the working of healing: the blind see, the deaf hear, the lame walk, and this last: the poor are gladdened. They are glad because the Kingdom is coming, the reign of God on earth when all will be put to rights.
If you know your Narnia you know this is Aslan’s job: to overthrow the false reign of the White Witch, to set everything to rights, to release captives, to warm the frozen, to restore the lost, and to protect the innocent.
This is indeed the Day of the Lord that John proclaimed.
Son of Elizabeth, Mary’s cousin, John grew up as one set apart, with a duty to perform. He was the one to prepare the way: and to herald the coming of the Messiah.
And this is what Mary was expecting Jesus to do: in her magnificent song of expectation and of triumph, she proclaims the greatness of God, who looks with favor on his lowly servant, and who brings to her and through her – in the bearing of the Christ Child – the time of grace for which we have prayed.
Therefore let our assembly sing praises now at this time of preparation; let us bless the Lord: Greetings to our King!
Rejoice! Rejoice! Christ is born of the Virgin Mary; rejoice!
______________
C. S. Lewis, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe (Macmillan, 1950) Chapter Ten: The Spell Begins to Break.
The Shorter New Oxford Book of Carols, edited by Hugh Keyte and Andrew Parrott (Oxford University Press, 1993), Carol 24, Gaudete!
David Adam, Clouds and Glory (SPCK, 2001) 3rd Sunday of Advent.
Isaiah 35:1-10, James 5:7-10, Matthew 11:2-11, Canticle 15
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
Sunday, November 4, 2007
for all the saints
All Saints 2007
One of the great joys and benefits of observing the holidays of the days of the dead is our gratefulness for our connection with them through the communion of saints, which is for the glory of God. We anticipate All Saints Day on All Hallows Eve – the eve of All Saints – and continue our worship November 1st in the feast of All Souls, or All Faithful Departed – a memorial day for remembering those who have gone before us in obtaining “those ineffable joys” spoken of in the Collect. I like to say, “It is always tea-time somewhere in the Anglican Communion” – that our bonds of affection and common heritage include this enjoyment, and that somewhere in the world someone is praying for me as I pray for you and for them.
And yet this fellowship extends beyond space into time – the saints of ages past share our hope for things to come. And we share in their hope, in their love, through our fellowship with Christ, in Christ, memorialized and brought to present life in the sacraments – the body and blood of Christ – the head of whose body we make up the members – and through and with him be all honor and glory to God, including that fellowship which is his joy – the church which is his body – the fullness (fulfillment) – of him who fills all in all.
This all boils down however to some practical behavior, most succinctly and most famously stated in the Golden Rule, the last sentence of today’s gospel reading: Do as you would be done by.
Imagine yourself a buckaroo from Paradise – that is, a cowboy from the Paradise Valley in Nevada. You raise mules. You have a day job: construction work on the interstate, building bypasses around Elko, Battle Mountain, and Winnemucca. You are on the way to work – you have about 80 miles to go. It is Sunday, late afternoon, the sun is setting slowly over the sage, and you are headed up a mountain pass about 8 miles west of Carlin.
On the side of the road, hood up, is an old car – a 1964 Pontiac Tempest. You stop. The young people inside think they have a mechanical problem. You have a simpler explanation and with a siphon hose prove it. “Yep, bone dry.” They are out of gas.
You drive them back to Carlin, make sure they get some gas, follow them to the next town, Battle Mountain, to make sure they are okay. As you leave, you give your parting benediction: “Make sure to stop and gas her up once in a while.”
To them you are an angel – a messenger of God – or someone who has followed the Golden Rule. Who wouldn’t want to be treated the way you have just treated them?
I was not the cowboy. But I was there. And I am sure glad he stopped.
Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.
It sounds so simple – and sometimes it is.
In practice this is carried out in as many ways as the engineer’s dictum Murphy’s Law – if it can go wrong it will – is manifested in the real world. As there are many examples and applications of Murphy’s Law, so there are many of the Golden Rule.
Here is one example. For pastors and their congregations, there are issues of communication, straightforwardness and honor of each other, which come into play.
When I spoke to Greg Rickel, bishop of Olympia, four weeks ago, I asked him if I could use the 10 Rules for Respect in communication he'd introduced at his parish as rector - and he readily gave his permission.
Before I share them with you, though, a disclosure – in the form of a story.
Donald Nicholl, the English Catholic layman who taught me so much at UCSC, loved to tell the story of Gandhi and the little girl. Her mother brought her to the great man complaining of her addiction to sweet foods, and asking Gandhi to do something about it. Gandhi told her to come back in two weeks.
When she did, he took the little girl aside and in a few simple words told her how to break the habit. The mother asked, why did you not tell her this two weeks ago? Because, madam, two weeks ago I was still addicted to sweet foods myself!
In other words practicing the Golden Rule takes – practice!
So with some trepidation... here are the 10 Rules for Respect in communication between a congregation and its pastor:
10 Rules for Respect
1. If you have a problem with me, come to me (privately).
2. If I have a problem with you, I will come to you (privately).
3. If someone has a problem with me and comes to you, send them to me. (I’ll do the same for you.)
4. If someone consistently will not come to me, say to them, “Let’s go to him together. I am sure he will see us about this.” (I will do the same for you.)
5. Be careful how you interpret me – I’d rather do that. On matters that are unclear, do not feel pressured to interpret my feelings or thoughts. It is easy to misinterpret intentions.
6. I will be careful how I interpret you.
7. If it’s confidential, don’t tell. This especially applies to Vestry meetings. If you or anyone comes to me in confidence, I won’t tell unless a) the person is going to harm himself/herself, b) the person is going to physically harm someone else, c) a child has been physically or sexually abused. I expect the same from you.
8. I do not read unsigned letters or notes.
9. I do not manipulate; I will not be manipulated; do not let others *manipulate you. Do not let others manipulate me through you. I will not preach “at” you on Sunday mornings. I will leave conviction to the Holy Spirit. (She does it better anyway!)
10. When in doubt, just say it. The only dumb questions are those that don’t get asked. We are a family here and we care about each other, so if you have a concern, pray, and then (if led) speak up. If I can answer it without misrepresenting something, someone, or breaking a confidence, I will.
*******
This is one example of how we are to put into effect the golden rule, not only to refrain from doing to others what we would not want others to do to us, but positively to treat others as we want to be treated ourselves.
The gospel lesson contains some paradoxical sayings. Jesus seems to be turning worldly wisdom on its head – give to whoever asks of you, invite beggars to your banquets, go the extra mile – and in some ways I think he is suggesting this as a revolutionary, non-violent protest action. The people of Palestine were, after all, deeply oppressed, and violent protest would lead, as it did, to disaster and destruction. What Israel held most precious, the Temple in Jerusalem, was torn down stone by stone.
Our own pretences of worldly wisdom, canniness and morality, are confounded by Jesus’ sayings – and by the reality of the in-breaking kingdom of God. Jesus is not after all selling us a bill of goods, pie in the sky, nor is he trying to get us killed – though living his way can lead to the cross. What he is doing is trying to get us to live into the kingdom, to begin to conduct ourselves as citizens of the city of God.
It looks topsy-turvy, through the eyes of the world. With the eyes of the heart opened, it is a glimpse of paradise.
Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.
Bishop Gregory Rickel’s biography and answers to search committee essay questions, Diocese of Olympia (http://www.ecww.org/inthenews/rickel.pdf)
Donald Nicholl, Holiness (Seabury, 1981)
C All Saints RCL
The Lessons Appointed for Use on All Saints' Day - Year C - RCL
Daniel 7:1-3,15-18
Psalm 149
Ephesians 1:11-23
Luke 6:20-31
The Collect
Almighty God, you have knit together your elect in one communion and fellowship in the mystical body of your Son Christ our Lord: Give us grace so to follow your blessed saints in all virtuous and godly living, that we may come to those ineffable joys that you have prepared for those who truly love you; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns, one God, in glory everlasting. Amen.
One of the great joys and benefits of observing the holidays of the days of the dead is our gratefulness for our connection with them through the communion of saints, which is for the glory of God. We anticipate All Saints Day on All Hallows Eve – the eve of All Saints – and continue our worship November 1st in the feast of All Souls, or All Faithful Departed – a memorial day for remembering those who have gone before us in obtaining “those ineffable joys” spoken of in the Collect. I like to say, “It is always tea-time somewhere in the Anglican Communion” – that our bonds of affection and common heritage include this enjoyment, and that somewhere in the world someone is praying for me as I pray for you and for them.
And yet this fellowship extends beyond space into time – the saints of ages past share our hope for things to come. And we share in their hope, in their love, through our fellowship with Christ, in Christ, memorialized and brought to present life in the sacraments – the body and blood of Christ – the head of whose body we make up the members – and through and with him be all honor and glory to God, including that fellowship which is his joy – the church which is his body – the fullness (fulfillment) – of him who fills all in all.
This all boils down however to some practical behavior, most succinctly and most famously stated in the Golden Rule, the last sentence of today’s gospel reading: Do as you would be done by.
Imagine yourself a buckaroo from Paradise – that is, a cowboy from the Paradise Valley in Nevada. You raise mules. You have a day job: construction work on the interstate, building bypasses around Elko, Battle Mountain, and Winnemucca. You are on the way to work – you have about 80 miles to go. It is Sunday, late afternoon, the sun is setting slowly over the sage, and you are headed up a mountain pass about 8 miles west of Carlin.
On the side of the road, hood up, is an old car – a 1964 Pontiac Tempest. You stop. The young people inside think they have a mechanical problem. You have a simpler explanation and with a siphon hose prove it. “Yep, bone dry.” They are out of gas.
You drive them back to Carlin, make sure they get some gas, follow them to the next town, Battle Mountain, to make sure they are okay. As you leave, you give your parting benediction: “Make sure to stop and gas her up once in a while.”
To them you are an angel – a messenger of God – or someone who has followed the Golden Rule. Who wouldn’t want to be treated the way you have just treated them?
I was not the cowboy. But I was there. And I am sure glad he stopped.
Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.
It sounds so simple – and sometimes it is.
In practice this is carried out in as many ways as the engineer’s dictum Murphy’s Law – if it can go wrong it will – is manifested in the real world. As there are many examples and applications of Murphy’s Law, so there are many of the Golden Rule.
Here is one example. For pastors and their congregations, there are issues of communication, straightforwardness and honor of each other, which come into play.
When I spoke to Greg Rickel, bishop of Olympia, four weeks ago, I asked him if I could use the 10 Rules for Respect in communication he'd introduced at his parish as rector - and he readily gave his permission.
Before I share them with you, though, a disclosure – in the form of a story.
Donald Nicholl, the English Catholic layman who taught me so much at UCSC, loved to tell the story of Gandhi and the little girl. Her mother brought her to the great man complaining of her addiction to sweet foods, and asking Gandhi to do something about it. Gandhi told her to come back in two weeks.
When she did, he took the little girl aside and in a few simple words told her how to break the habit. The mother asked, why did you not tell her this two weeks ago? Because, madam, two weeks ago I was still addicted to sweet foods myself!
In other words practicing the Golden Rule takes – practice!
So with some trepidation... here are the 10 Rules for Respect in communication between a congregation and its pastor:
10 Rules for Respect
1. If you have a problem with me, come to me (privately).
2. If I have a problem with you, I will come to you (privately).
3. If someone has a problem with me and comes to you, send them to me. (I’ll do the same for you.)
4. If someone consistently will not come to me, say to them, “Let’s go to him together. I am sure he will see us about this.” (I will do the same for you.)
5. Be careful how you interpret me – I’d rather do that. On matters that are unclear, do not feel pressured to interpret my feelings or thoughts. It is easy to misinterpret intentions.
6. I will be careful how I interpret you.
7. If it’s confidential, don’t tell. This especially applies to Vestry meetings. If you or anyone comes to me in confidence, I won’t tell unless a) the person is going to harm himself/herself, b) the person is going to physically harm someone else, c) a child has been physically or sexually abused. I expect the same from you.
8. I do not read unsigned letters or notes.
9. I do not manipulate; I will not be manipulated; do not let others *manipulate you. Do not let others manipulate me through you. I will not preach “at” you on Sunday mornings. I will leave conviction to the Holy Spirit. (She does it better anyway!)
10. When in doubt, just say it. The only dumb questions are those that don’t get asked. We are a family here and we care about each other, so if you have a concern, pray, and then (if led) speak up. If I can answer it without misrepresenting something, someone, or breaking a confidence, I will.
*******
This is one example of how we are to put into effect the golden rule, not only to refrain from doing to others what we would not want others to do to us, but positively to treat others as we want to be treated ourselves.
The gospel lesson contains some paradoxical sayings. Jesus seems to be turning worldly wisdom on its head – give to whoever asks of you, invite beggars to your banquets, go the extra mile – and in some ways I think he is suggesting this as a revolutionary, non-violent protest action. The people of Palestine were, after all, deeply oppressed, and violent protest would lead, as it did, to disaster and destruction. What Israel held most precious, the Temple in Jerusalem, was torn down stone by stone.
Our own pretences of worldly wisdom, canniness and morality, are confounded by Jesus’ sayings – and by the reality of the in-breaking kingdom of God. Jesus is not after all selling us a bill of goods, pie in the sky, nor is he trying to get us killed – though living his way can lead to the cross. What he is doing is trying to get us to live into the kingdom, to begin to conduct ourselves as citizens of the city of God.
It looks topsy-turvy, through the eyes of the world. With the eyes of the heart opened, it is a glimpse of paradise.
Do unto others as you would have them do unto you.
Bishop Gregory Rickel’s biography and answers to search committee essay questions, Diocese of Olympia (http://www.ecww.org/inthenews/rickel.pdf)
Donald Nicholl, Holiness (Seabury, 1981)
C All Saints RCL
The Lessons Appointed for Use on All Saints' Day - Year C - RCL
Daniel 7:1-3,15-18
Psalm 149
Ephesians 1:11-23
Luke 6:20-31
The Collect
Almighty God, you have knit together your elect in one communion and fellowship in the mystical body of your Son Christ our Lord: Give us grace so to follow your blessed saints in all virtuous and godly living, that we may come to those ineffable joys that you have prepared for those who truly love you; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns, one God, in glory everlasting. Amen.
communication
When I spoke to Greg Rickels, bishop of Olympia,
four weeks ago, I asked him if I could use the
10 Rules for Respect in communication he'd
introduced at his parish as rector - and he
readily gave his permission.
Donald Nicholl, the English Catholic layman who
taught me so much at UCSC, loved to tell the
story of Gandhi and the little girl. Her mother
brought her to the great man complaining of her
addiction to sweet foods, and asking Gandhi to do
something about it. Gandhi told her to come back
in two weeks. When she did, he took the little
girl aside and in a few simple words told her how
to break the habit. The mother asked, why did you
not tell her this two weeks ago? Because, madam,
two weeks ago I was still addicted to sweet
foods myself!
So with some trepidation... the 10 Rules for
Respect in communication between a congregation
and its pastor:
10 Rules for Respect
1. If you have a problem with me, come to me
(privately).
2. If I have a problem with you, I will come to
you (privately).
3. If someone has a problem with me and comes to
you, send them to me. (I’ll do the same for you.)
4. If someone consistently will not come to me,
say to them, “Let’s go to him together. I am sure
he will see us about this.” (I will do the same
for you.)
5. Be careful how you interpret me – I’d rather
do that. On matters that are unclear, do not feel
pressured to interpret my feelings or thoughts.
It is easy to misinterpret intentions.
6. I will be careful how I interpret you.
7. If it’s confidential, don’t tell. This
especially applies to Vestry meetings. If you or
anyone comes to me in confidence, I won’t tell
unless a) the person is going to harm
himself/herself, b) the person is going to
physically harm someone else, c) a child has been
physically or sexually abused. I expect the same
from you.
8. I do not read unsigned letters or notes.
9. I do not manipulate; I will not be
manipulated; do not let others manipulate you. Do
not let others manipulate me through you. I will
not preach “at” you on Sunday mornings. I will
leave conviction to the Holy Spirit. (She does it
better anyway!)
10. When in doubt, just say it. The only dumb
questions are those that don’t get asked. We are
a family here and we care about each other, so if
you have a concern, pray, and then (if led) speak
up. If I can answer it without misrepresenting
something, someone, or breaking a confidence, I
will.
Adapted from Bishop Gregory Rickel’s biography
and answers to search committee essay questions
Diocese of Olympia
http://www.ecww.org/inthenews/rickel.pdf
Donald Nicholl, Holiness (Seabury, 1981)
four weeks ago, I asked him if I could use the
10 Rules for Respect in communication he'd
introduced at his parish as rector - and he
readily gave his permission.
Donald Nicholl, the English Catholic layman who
taught me so much at UCSC, loved to tell the
story of Gandhi and the little girl. Her mother
brought her to the great man complaining of her
addiction to sweet foods, and asking Gandhi to do
something about it. Gandhi told her to come back
in two weeks. When she did, he took the little
girl aside and in a few simple words told her how
to break the habit. The mother asked, why did you
not tell her this two weeks ago? Because, madam,
two weeks ago I was still addicted to sweet
foods myself!
So with some trepidation... the 10 Rules for
Respect in communication between a congregation
and its pastor:
10 Rules for Respect
1. If you have a problem with me, come to me
(privately).
2. If I have a problem with you, I will come to
you (privately).
3. If someone has a problem with me and comes to
you, send them to me. (I’ll do the same for you.)
4. If someone consistently will not come to me,
say to them, “Let’s go to him together. I am sure
he will see us about this.” (I will do the same
for you.)
5. Be careful how you interpret me – I’d rather
do that. On matters that are unclear, do not feel
pressured to interpret my feelings or thoughts.
It is easy to misinterpret intentions.
6. I will be careful how I interpret you.
7. If it’s confidential, don’t tell. This
especially applies to Vestry meetings. If you or
anyone comes to me in confidence, I won’t tell
unless a) the person is going to harm
himself/herself, b) the person is going to
physically harm someone else, c) a child has been
physically or sexually abused. I expect the same
from you.
8. I do not read unsigned letters or notes.
9. I do not manipulate; I will not be
manipulated; do not let others manipulate you. Do
not let others manipulate me through you. I will
not preach “at” you on Sunday mornings. I will
leave conviction to the Holy Spirit. (She does it
better anyway!)
10. When in doubt, just say it. The only dumb
questions are those that don’t get asked. We are
a family here and we care about each other, so if
you have a concern, pray, and then (if led) speak
up. If I can answer it without misrepresenting
something, someone, or breaking a confidence, I
will.
Adapted from Bishop Gregory Rickel’s biography
and answers to search committee essay questions
Diocese of Olympia
http://www.ecww.org/inthenews/rickel.pdf
Donald Nicholl, Holiness (Seabury, 1981)
all saints
All Saints 2007
One of the great joys and benefits of observing the holidays of the days of the dead – los dias de los muertos, en español; in English, All Saints’ Eve, All Saints’ Day, and All Souls’ Day – that is, All Faithful Departed – is our gratefulness for our connection with them through the communion of saints which is for the glory of God. We anticipate All Saints Day on All Hallows Eve – the eve of All Saints – and continue our worship November 1st in the feast of All Souls, or All Faithful Departed – a memorial day for remembering those who have gone before us in obtaining “those ineffable joys” spoken of in Ephesians. I like to say, “It is always tea-time somewhere in the Anglican Communion” – that our bonds of affection and common heritage include this enjoyment, and that somewhere in the world someone is praying for me as I pray for you and for them. And yet this fellowship extends beyond space into time – the saints of ages past share our hope for things to come. And we share in their hope, in their love, through our fellowship with Christ, in Christ, memorialized and brought to present life in the sacraments – the body and blood of Christ – the head of whose body we make up the members – and through and with him be all honor and glory to God, including that fellowship which is his joy – the church which is his body – the fullness (fulfillment) – of him who fills all in all.
One of the great joys and benefits of observing the holidays of the days of the dead – los dias de los muertos, en español; in English, All Saints’ Eve, All Saints’ Day, and All Souls’ Day – that is, All Faithful Departed – is our gratefulness for our connection with them through the communion of saints which is for the glory of God. We anticipate All Saints Day on All Hallows Eve – the eve of All Saints – and continue our worship November 1st in the feast of All Souls, or All Faithful Departed – a memorial day for remembering those who have gone before us in obtaining “those ineffable joys” spoken of in Ephesians. I like to say, “It is always tea-time somewhere in the Anglican Communion” – that our bonds of affection and common heritage include this enjoyment, and that somewhere in the world someone is praying for me as I pray for you and for them. And yet this fellowship extends beyond space into time – the saints of ages past share our hope for things to come. And we share in their hope, in their love, through our fellowship with Christ, in Christ, memorialized and brought to present life in the sacraments – the body and blood of Christ – the head of whose body we make up the members – and through and with him be all honor and glory to God, including that fellowship which is his joy – the church which is his body – the fullness (fulfillment) – of him who fills all in all.
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