Temptation

An image of Don Quixote in Cordoba, Spain.

(c) John Leech. 2024.

Three temptations. And Jesus passes up on all of them. But they would be so easy to succumb to - and who could blame the old Adam if the new Adam did not partake?

First of all there is security - and there is power. What a temptation! If I could turn this stone into bread, think what else I could do. I could be like Midas only better. And one hopes, gluten-free.

After all, bread goes stale. Gold, however. That is bankable. Or perhaps you would prefer bitcoin? Conjure all you want! You won’t be alone.

Power - power to make one mad, or rich. Security - any time I want I can have plenty to eat. 

“Give us this daily bread” - for we do not depend on bread, or the baker, but on God, and on the Word that comes forth from his mouth. In that Word is life. Ironically, that Word is Jesus himself.

How about Door number Two? Dominion. Subordination. Just worship me and all is yours. Of course that allegiance belongs to God alone. But what has he done for you lately? All the kingdoms of the world. Wealth, power, prestige. And what would you do with them?

Such a temptation was presented to, of all people, Sancho Panza, right-hand man of Don Quixote himself.

The dolorous knight Don Quixote had long assured his faithful squire Sancho Panza that he would some day reward him with governorship of an island, since being a knight errant such gifts would surely be within his power to bestow before much longer in the course of their adventures. And then they met a noble lord who promised to award the island governorship straight away - but before Sancho could go, the knight gave him some astonishingly sound and sober advice, enough to make him as wise as Solomon, as impartial as the judge of the Caucasian Chalk Circle, and as knowing of human nature as the Wife of Bath. 

Judge fairly. Would this be likely, given the provenance of the gift? Worship me - and rule all the kingdoms of the world. Or dispose of them to the highest bidder. Then retire, and play golf. Entertain your buddies, if you think that is what they are, those people who gather around you.

No thanks. Jesus is not interested. “Worship the Lord and him only.” Another opportunity passed by.

At last: come on if you really are - if you really have faith - would not God save you, from whatever scrape you get yourself into? But to be sure - best put him to the test. Put God in the untenable position of saving you - or letting the one he calls Beloved plunge needlessly to his death. Test him. Prove it. Look how well it worked out for Adam and Eve. Take a bite. Or a leap.

But that is not the blind faith, the leap of faith, that persuades Jesus. Nothing does. He sends away all these opportunities, bread, kingdoms, and test, and is left alone. He has nothing but God. 

And that is all he needs.

If that does not prove he is the son of God, what would?

What we see from then on, is Jesus acts of compassion, words of truth to power, and ability to give from apparently nothing but faith a greater abundance, suzerainty, and self-confidence, than any tempter could provide. Strength in faith. 

Give us this daily our daily bread. Thy kingdom come. Thy will be done. The power, the kingdom, the glory: all are yours O God. 

Those are the three temptations in reverse. Power, Kingdom. Glory. All of which belong to God.

And Jesus is content to rest in the same hands that hold those three realities. 

How do we in our world acknowledge that the power, the kingdom, and the glory belong to God? How do we see that kingdom come in our lives? Our world? Our community? Our church? 

How do we reveal our dependence on God for our daily sustenance, thank him, and share it? How do we share the gifts of providence, thinly spread or overwhelmingly abundant, that we have received?

How do we acknowledge that all things come from him, and in that knowledge offer our gifts?

And do we stop, look at the sunset, or the smile on the face of a neighbor, or the happy sound of a confident child, or the shape of a rose, and remember, that all these reflect the glory of God? How do we render our praise in the face of his majesty, his gentleness, his care, his share in our sorrow and our joys? In little things and big ways, how do we give God the glory?

Finally there is the extra-biblical last Temptation, as imagined by the novelist Nikos Kazantzakis, which Jesus meets with obedience. In the garden of Gethsemane, when he was sweating blood in fearful supplication, let this cup pass from me - but what thou wilt not I - what if, offered an ordinary life, a wife, a family, just some simple things, Jesus had said, yes. But he did not. In fearful obedience, frightening to contemplate, he stood his ground. He kept the faith. 

It goes way back to that first temptation. Because he lived not for himself but for us. He did not betray us for a crust of bread. He did not sell us out to rule as the dominant megalo-monarch. He did not need to prove anything, for himself or for us, and in that he showed the strength of faith that he gave us. He did not surrender to temptation. And he kept the faith to the end. 

God of the desert, as we follow Jesus into the unknown, may we recognize the tempter when he comes; let it be your bread we eat, your world we serve, and you alone we worship. Amen.

(New Zealand Prayer Book, 573)

First Sunday in Lent

• Deuteronomy 26:1-11

• Romans 10:8b-13

• Luke 4:1-13

• Psalm 91:1-2, 9-16

He did not betray us for a crust of bread.

--Ladislaus Boros, In Time of Temptation (translated by Simon and Erika Young)

http://edgeofenclosure.org/lent1c.html

https://ctktucson.org/sermons/

https://stmatthewtucson.org/

Miguel de Cervantes Saavedra, Don Quixote, Part 2, Chapter 52 (?).

Ash Wednesday

Coffin Ship Memorial, Ireland.

https://media.fotki.com/2vzrMuWTx36q9C.jpg

What if it’s not all about me? What if my death is not the only thing to contemplate? Surely this is the day to take up the invitation to meditate upon one’s own mortality. But does not that very invitation lead to wider thoughts? If I am but dust then is not the dust to which I shall return the very same that all mortal beings cling to, are made of, and to which all in their turn revert? 

God promises immortality. Probably not the kind we are waiting for. Unless we are very grand or very humble, we probably have some idea of what we hope eternity holds for us. But we do not know. Nor can we grasp it. 

Like Lincoln on the battlefield, consecrating - or rather, acknowledging the consecration - of that sacred ground at Gettysburg, our own words seem of little significance, if placed beside the suffering, sacrifice, futility, and annihilation awaiting all flesh.

This Monday morning I looked at images, and contemplated words, offered by my friend Suzanne Guthrie, as appropriate for an Ash Wednesday meditation. There was one she left out. 

It was the image of a coffin ship memorial at the foot of the mountain called Croagh Patrick, in western Ireland. No fault of hers. But as I begin to wonder if there is not more to it than me, that is, more to death and life, that image that comes to me from memory more than the internet, comes forward. As with many horrors, there is more to it than can be grasped. And that includes the mortal hope of those on board such a ship that they will survive and reach the new world and a new life. That new world, and that new life, that survivors indeed shared with their descendants. People like me.

When we inventory our antecedents we think sometimes of those who lived. The replete gentleman who could afford accommodation above steerage on his way across the Atlantic. The slaveholder’s son who was shot not fatally at Shiloh. The revolutionary boy, a hale and hearty lad, who did not freeze to death at Valley Forge. The prisoner who did not starve, forgotten. 

Yet all of these could be among our ancestors as they are part of the human family, just as much as those who died on coffin ships or slave ships or desert marches across the southwest. 

Morbid. I know. Because there is also gratitude to be remembered among the dead. We remember some of them, perhaps wrongly: memory is fickle and hope is inventive. And we ourselves must each join the parade, of those who have fallen, forgotten or remembered, honored or not.

Some traditions name a newborn child after someone who has recently died, that their name will live on. This can be an intention to the point of an expected duty. Not to be squandered. We may hope to be among those remembered by others; family, friends, readers of a donor plaque.

But we are remembered, already, where it counts. In the ineffable place in the heart of the universe, in the timeless mind of God. Already if not yet we are present in the heart of God.

That is what Jesus means. Today you will be with me in paradise. You already are. 

Time has no meaning there; there is neither sorrow nor weeping. And when we go to join them, we will, as the poet says, find ourselves welcome in a city we never knew. But it knew us. 

It is the kingdom of God. 

***

Ash Wednesday 

• Joel 2:1-2,12-17
• or Isaiah 58:1-12
• 2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10
• Matthew 6:1-6,16-21
• Psalm 103 or 103:8-14

http://edgeofenclosure.org/ashwednesday.html

From Sundays and Seasons:

Prayer of the Day

Almighty and ever-living God, you hate nothing you have made, and you forgive the sins of all who are penitent. Create in us new and honest hearts, so that, truly repenting of our sins, we may receive from you, the God of all mercy, full pardon and forgiveness through your Son, Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

Amen.

Prayer of the Day (Alternate)

Gracious God, out of your love and mercy you breathed into dust the breath of life, creating us to serve you and our neighbors. Call forth our prayers and acts of kindness, and strengthen us to face our mortality with confidence in the mercy of your Son, Jesus Christ, our Savior and Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever.

Amen.

The First Day of Lent commonly called Ash Wednesday (BCP 1662)

The Collect

Almighty and everlasting God, who hatest nothing that thou hast made, and dost forgive the sins of all them that are penitent: Create and make in us new and contrite hearts, that we worthily lamenting our sins, and acknowledging our wretchedness, may obtain of thee, the God of all mercy, perfect remission and forgiveness; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

Dust

Dust

We bless you, O Lord our God, creator of the Universe, for the gift of earth, from whence we come and to which we shall return. We ask your blessing on the ancient peoples who first enjoyed this land and ask your blessing upon us as we join the traditional stewards of this land in its ongoing care. And care for us, Lord, as we contemplate our mortality, our absolute dependence upon you, and as we prepare ourselves for life beyond death in the hope of the resurrection.

Remember that you are dust of the earth and to that earth you shall return.

(Reprinted from sermonoats, Monday, February 15, 2021)

with shining faces

Jesus and the disciples go up the Galilee side of the mountain and come down the Jerusalem side. http://edgeofenclosure.org/epiphanylastc.html

You have to wonder how it felt there. He had walked with them a long way and talked with them and taught them many things and now he was going up the mountain, and he went up the mountain to talk to God. Then later, we learn, he came back down and had some more ordinary experiences, and they had some more ordinary experiences. We could be talking about Moses or Jesus.

When we’re talking about Moses on the mountain, he had lead the people through the desert in an exodus, a departure from Egypt and from slavery, and a departure into freedom and a new land and indeed a new relationship with God – because now their leader had spoken to God face-to-face… that is, had prayed, and then returned to them.

By the time of this episode he had already brought them the 10 “words” or 10 Commandments.

What we see in both this story and the story of the Transfiguration is that it is the experience of the followers, the people who followed their leader, that we are told about.

Moses did not know that his face was shining. They did.

Jesus did not pay any attention to his own appearance. They did.

Jesus like Moses had led his followers on a long wandering walk, and now had gone up the mountain to pray and talk to God.

When his disciples saw him, they saw that his clothes were whiter than an earthly laundromat could make them, and his face was shining.

That is what they saw. That is what they experienced.

And that is what we hear about in both of these two stories that have been read to us this morning. The experience not of the leaders but of their followers.

Like those followers, we recognize that what we have, what we own, is our own experience of what has happened and what it reveals about who our leader is and what their message is to us.

What is astonishing about the stories we heard today, about Moses and Jesus, was the agreement between witnesses, on what had happened and what it meant, though this did not come to them all in a rush at the very moment that it happened. 

The disciples did not at the time even talk about what had happened. Peter, James, and John didn’t say a word to anybody until after Jesus was resurrected.

As you may recall, after they experienced the Resurrection, Mary Magdalene and the other women didn't say a word to anybody at first. 

It took a while to figure out what was really going on below the surface of what had happened, what they had seen and heard and what it meant.

But they, like the men on the mountains, did come away with some experiences, reflected on them, and then taught their insights to others.

A historian at a recent academic conference evaluating a presidency said, “Not surprisingly, people mix their opinion of what they think should have happened with what really did happen.” It takes a while to sort it out.

There is another should that matters today and that is how we should respond to the stories and to what the leaders had passed on to their followers from what they had already taught them on the way and what they brought down with them from the mountain top experience.

And you have to have some sympathy for the leader. 

On his first return from the mountaintop Moses found the people had strayed far from what he had taught them, threw down the first copy of the 10 Commandments in disgust and then had to go back up and ask for another set — from God.

And it was after his mountaintop experience that Jesus had to step in and do what he thought the disciples at this point should’ve been able to do for themselves and heal a child.

But however they responded, however they reacted, however they experienced or recollected their experience or related to it or understood it over time, the disciples of Jesus and the followers of Moses had some questions that would sound very familiar to us today.

Not just : what happened and what did it mean? But also : now what? What is next?

Of course we are not caught in the moment between ascending a mountain from Galilee and then descending toward Jerusalem, or ascending Mount Sinai and then descending toward the promised land. 

When we are at an in-between place, it may not feel like a mountain top to us but rather a valley. Like the Israelites left to their own devices in the camp, or disciples waiting for the Big 4 to return from Mount Tabor.

In some ways, it can be very exciting to be on your own and trying to figure out what was that and what’s coming next.

In other ways, it can be disconcerting and provide a source of anxiety.

In the in-between time, we realize that who our leader was following is the one whom we really need to learn from.

Moses’ face shines as it reflects the glory of God; Jesus’ shines as he reveals the glory of God.

In both of the readings, with Moses and with Jesus, the person who led them on their long wandering, who then went up the mountain to pray to God, was revealed to them as the messenger of God chosen for that moment. In the first case, the leader was Moses, who brought them the 10 ‘words’ of the law. In the second case, it was Jesus who was himself the Word, the embodiment of the reign of God.

So what are we to make of it when leaders are with us for a time and then make their departure?

One thing we know for sure is that they have given us a model to follow, which is whether you up on a mountaintop or down in a valley, to turn our faces toward God – God, where the source of all that light reflected in their faces, shining faces, came from in the first place and we like them should pray.

There is a prayer written, especially for our kind of situation, a prayer for the calling of a new minister, and of course it’s a prayer for them as well as us. Now Moses was certainly not appointing his successor when he was on the mountain, and Jesus simply said after me will come an Advocate to help you and be with you forever— 

What we are expecting is that we will be guided by the Spirit into the future with a new understanding of what we have learned not only from past leaders, but from our God, and we will continue in the teachings and in the prayers. That incidentally is how the disciples carried on. They continued in the teachings and fellowship, in the breaking of bread and in the prayers: so should we.

Almighty God, giver of every good gift: Look graciously on your Church, and so guide the minds of those who shall choose a rector for this parish, that we may receive a faithful pastor, who will care for your people and equip us for our ministries; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.

At this point in the Christian year, we are at the hinge point, the bridge from the revelations of Epiphany season, when the reality of Jesus became more and more apparent;  his true nature shining through and the disciples beginning to grasp it, and what happened once that truth was revealed in one extra extraordinary experience after another. Now crossing into Lent we accompany Jesus as he sets his face – so recently shining – towards Jerusalem and his mission to be accomplished there. 

That mission will end not in defeat but in his glorification and the glory of God his father. And as we seek to follow Jesus, not up the mountain of shining faces but down the road to the events of Holy Week, we seek his face in the darkness of Good Friday as well as in the light of Easter. And God’s glory will be reflected in our faces.

*** 

Last Sunday after the Epiphany

• Exodus 34:29-35
• 2 Corinthians 3:12-4:2
• Luke 9:28-36, [37-43a]
• Psalm 99

http://edgeofenclosure.org/epiphanylastc.html

* These are the same readings as for the feast of The Transfiguration (August 6) except on that day the Epistle is: 2 Peter 1:13-21 *

https://www.nytimes.com/2025/02/26/arts/writing-history-biden-presidency-trump-era.html

Blessed are

“Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.”

There is a hymn that in some contexts seems almost cruel. It begins, “If you but trust in God to guide thee…” and seems to promise that if you do that everything will work out.

Well, it does, if you take the long-run view. After all, everything will work out, as a friend reminded me, because Revelations says so. 

If you don’t want to wait until the end of time, or if you are pressed by present circumstance, that can be a long wait.

Ask anyone who is in distress or anxious or worried or or or – 

The psalmist and Jesus, both, say to us, the meek shall inherit. Eventually.

That is to say, right now, things may be going very wrong for us, the meek. The poor, the bereaved, the unemployed, the destitute, the homeless, the frightened, the disinherited, those about to lose their jobs, those about to be deported. Those about to die.

What God promises can be found, in part, in today’s psalm. There is a lot about the wicked. They are not wicked because they are rich, Clint McCann pointed out, they are rich because they are wicked. 

Good to know it does not go both ways.

In any case it is easy to look across at the wicked as they prosper and wonder where God has gone, or when he is coming.

The psalm assures us that he will.  So that leaves us to trust the promise.

And - to do a little more. To work toward that blessed day, to live our lives with active faith.

In present circumstances, if you will, our moment requires some active trust work.

We have inherited something wonderful: democracy, justice, the rule of law. Not just as a promise, an active expectation, but as something we have actually experienced. Not because it came plopping down from the clouds but because people worked for it.

Here is what a few of them have had to say about it:

George Washington (and this is his birthday):

“The preservation of the sacred fire of liberty and the destiny of the Republican model of Government are staked on the experiment entrusted to the hands of the American people.” – George Washington, inaugural address. 1789.   

“The basis of our political systems is the right of the people to make and to alter their constitutions of government. But the Constitution which at any time exists, till changed by an explicit and authentic act of the whole people, is sacredly obligatory upon all. 

The very idea of the power and the right of the people to establish government presupposes the duty of every individual to obey the established government.

“All obstructions to the execution of the laws, all combinations and associations, under whatever plausible character, with the real design to direct, control, counteract, or awe the regular deliberation and action of the constituted authorities, are destructive of this fundamental principle, and of fatal tendency. 

They serve to organize faction, to give it an artificial and extraordinary force; to put, in the place of the delegated will of the nation the will of a party, often a small but artful and enterprising minority of the community; and, according to the alternate triumphs of different parties, to make the public administration the mirror of the ill-concerted and incongruous projects of faction, rather than the organ of consistent and wholesome plans digested by common counsels and modified by mutual interests.

“However combinations or associations of the above description may now and then answer popular ends, they are likely, in the course of time and things, to become potent engines, by which cunning, ambitious, and unprincipled men will be enabled to subvert the power of the people and to usurp for themselves the reins of government, destroying afterwards the very engines which have lifted them to unjust dominion."

-- George Washington, farewell address, 1796. 

‘I do not pretend to understand the moral universe, the arc is a long one, my eye reaches but little ways. I cannot calculate the curve and complete the figure by the experience of sight; I can divine it by conscience. But from what I see I am sure it bends towards justice. Things refuse to be mismanaged long.’ – Theodore Parker, sermon. 1853. Of Justice and the Conscience.

“It is for us the living… to be dedicated …to the great task remaining before us -- that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom -- and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.” – Abraham Lincoln, Gettysburg Address, 1863. 

‘Evil may so shape events that Caesar will occupy a palace and Christ a cross, but that same Christ arose and split history into A.D. and B.C., so that even the life of Caesar must be dated by his name. Yes, “the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” – Martin Luther King Jr., in The Gospel Messenger, 1958.

‘But as I learned… while you can’t necessarily bend history to your will, you can do your part to see that, in the words of Dr. King, it “bends toward justice.” So I hope that you will stand up and do what you can to serve your community, shape our history and enrich both your own life and the lives of others across this country.’ – Barack Obama. TIME, 2009.

Faithful people. Common purpose. Different times, different voices. 

What they have in common, and what they have in common with the book of Psalms, is the sure and certain confidence that justice and righteousness will prevail. In the long run. “Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth.”

And that they have not and would not and will not sit back. They were all of them in the fight. For justice, democracy, for the rule of law, for freedom. 

It’s a republic, if we can keep it. Shall we? 

CEpiphany7 2025. Saturday 22 February 2025. Episcopal Church of Christ the King, Tucson.

SOURCES AND RESOURCES

• Genesis 45:3-11, 15
• 1 Corinthians 15:35-38,42-50
• Luke 6:27-38
• Psalm 37:1-12, 41-42

Benjamin J. Segal, A New Psalm: The Psalms as Literature. Jerusalem: Gefen, 2013.

James Luther Mays, Psalms. Interpretation: A Bible Commentary for Teaching and Preaching. Louisville KY: Westminster John Knox Press, 1994.

J. Clinton McCann Jr., The Book of Psalms: Introduction, Commentary, and Reflections. The New Interpreter’s Bible. Volume IV. Nashville TN: Abingdon Press, 1996.

https://quoteinvestigator.com/2012/11/15/arc-of-universe/

1853, Ten Sermons of Religion by Theodore Parker, Of Justice and the Conscience, Start Page 66, Quote Page 84-85, Crosby, Nichols and Company, Boston. 

1958 February 8, The Gospel Messenger, Out of the Long Night by Martin Luther King, Jr., Start Page 3, Quote Page 14, Column 1, Official Organ of the Church of the Brethren, Published weekly by the General Brotherhood Board, Elgin, Illinois.

2009 March 19, Time, A New Era of Service Across America by Barack Obama, Time Inc., New York. 

George Washington (born February 22 [February 11, Old Style], 1732, Westmoreland county, Virginia [U.S.]—died December 14, 1799, Mount Vernon, Virginia, U.S.) was an American general and commander in chief of the colonial armies in the American Revolution (1775–83) and subsequently first president of the United States (1789–97). (britannica.com)

“middling land under a man’s own eyes, is more profitable than rich land at a distance.” 

“My wish is that the [constitutional] convention may adopt no temporizing expedients, but probe the defects of the Constitution to the bottom, and provide a radical cure.”  

Of the Constitution: “it or dis-union is before us to chuse from.” 

“first in war, first in peace, and first in the hearts of his countrymen.” 

The people of the United States have continued to glory in knowing him as “the Father of His Country,” an accolade he was pleased to accept, even though it pained him that he fathered no children of his own. For almost a century beginning in the 1770s, Washington was the uncontested giant in the American pantheon of greats, but only until Abraham Lincoln was enshrined there after another critical epoch in the life of the country.

https://www.britannica.com/biography/George-Washington 

“A republic, if you can keep it.”

--Benjamin Franklin's response to Elizabeth Willing Powel's question: "Well, Doctor, what have we got, a republic or a monarchy?"

https://www.nps.gov/articles/000/constitutionalconvention-september17.htm

https://tucson.com/opinion/column/article_0ffa6a0a-f2b1-11ef-b1c0-cb53e157808e.html

vows, blessings, and woes

As they have for many people, vows have been on my mind this week. First for me was a three-day retreat for clergy, with ordination vows the theme. Then it was Valentines’ Day which got me thinking about wedding vows and other vows couples make to each other. 

And now here we are on the sixth Sunday after the Epiphany, when Jesus talks about not vows but blessings and curses. Unlike the gospel of Matthew where the poor are softened into the poor in spirit, Luke just calls it out. 

This reminds me of a young adult group that foundered on age limits, and began including the young at heart. Young at heart, a term fond among Sinatra fans, means... what? Who does that not include? With the gospel of Matthew, we have the challenge of asking what it means to be poor in spirit: who hasn't been, some time or other? Or do we lack compassion for the downhearted? No. But Luke challenges us directly and concretely to consider something not only psychological but political and physical. 

From the quiet poverty of the seldom seen to the all too often seen panhandlers on street corners, undocumented laborers seeking a day's hire as they wait in a park, the people whose insurance has been cancelled, those who have lost everything in a fire, or in a divorce, or just through a concatenation of circumstances, there are those among us who are poor in spirit and body, both. 

And what is the challenge to us? We are among them, ourselves individually sometimes, as the body of Christ all the time. But let us look at happier things, still challenging: all those vows. 

Some of them are really long: I will refer you to the Book of Common Prayer for ordination vows. 

Some of them are written by happy couples for each other. Some couples as they wed recite vows that would've been familiar to Thomas Cranmer (himself married twice). 

And then before and behind the ordination vows and many others, are the vows of baptism.

What do these vows have in common? Loyalty, trust, good intentions, failure, success, forgiveness, and dependence on the grace of God for their fulfillment. We do the best we can. We fail. We pick ourselves up. We say sorry. We forgive each other. We learn, and we carry on. Hoping next time to do better.

Another thing these vows have in common is permanence, or at least longevity. We hope to stay faithful to God for a lifetime, following Christ on the Way of Life. We hope to keep covenant with our spouse, and love our children. We hope to sustain those newly baptized, or ordained, or married, in their own vows.

All of these are under the mercy, under the covering protection of a loving God. And so all of them are, in a sense, reflections of the covenants God has made with his people. Some of them, according to the Bible, are pretty explicit. Whether you feel covered by those or not, you know that God has called us to faith based on the promise of mercy and grace from the one in whom we have our being. 

When was the last time you saw a rainbow? I’d kind of hoped for one on Friday afternoon. Before that, September? August? And what did it mean to you? I’m recalling in the story of Noah that God promised no more water - and set a rainbow in the heavens as a sign of his covenant. 

Several times in the Old Testament a covenant between God and his people is announced: the promise that after the Babylonian Captivity the people would be restored to the land of promise, the Holy Land of ancient Israel. 

And perhaps most vividly the promise to Abraham that he would be the father of nations, and that they would bring the glory of God to all people. 

And in the Christmas and Epiphany readings we hear the song of Zechariah and its prophecy that the redemption of Israel was coming; a promise echoed by the prophet Anna and holy Simeon at the Presentation of our Lord in the Temple. 

And Jesus’ promise to the Good Thief, today you will be with me in Paradise. All these promises, reflecting in a sense the same thing: the grace and glory, the peace and the fullness of life under the mercy of God.

Our vows, to each other, to our church, to ourselves, echo the promises of God - promises that beyond human failure find their fulfillment, ultimately in the consummation of time, or even immediately in a kind word or a changed heart, or a providential blessing or intervention that sustains us in life and hope.

Our vows to each other, in marriage; our vows to the church, at baptism or confirmation or ordination - or the renewal of vows at Easter, and the vows to ourselves, however private, all reflect and depend upon the grace of God, the gift already given, of his merciful abundance.

May the Lord who has given us the will to do these things give us the grace and power to perform them.

We may be poor. We may be poor in spirit. We may be giddily blessed or feeling forsaken. But always God is with us. The God who made us is the God who redeems us is the God whose spirit infuses us with grace and mercy, forgiveness and wisdom, as we move forward through life. Challenges await, as we well know. So do love and hope and faith, these three: and among them what abides, always, is love.

***

16 February 2025

Sixth Sunday after the Epiphany

● Jeremiah 17:5-10

● 1 Corinthians 15:12-20

● Luke 6:17-26

● Psalm 1

Episcopal Church of Saint Matthew, Tucson. Sunday 16 February 2025. 8 & 10:30am. JRL+

The marvelous peace of God

They Cast Their Nets in Galilee

1 They cast their nets in Galilee

just off the hills of brown;

such happy, simple fisher-folk,

before the Lord came down.

2 Contented, peaceful fishermen,

before they ever knew

the peace of God that filled their hearts

brimful, and broke them too.

3 Young John who trimmed the flapping sail,

homeless, in Patmos died.

Peter, who hauled the teeming net,

head-down was crucified.

4 The peace of God, it is no peace,

but strife closed in the sod.

Yet let us pray for but one thing-

the marvelous peace of God.

https://hymnary.org/hymn/EH1982/661

William Alexander Percy, 1885-1942 (alt.)

The Hymnal 1982, #661

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Unworthiness.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Not.

But maybe yes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

I have a job for you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Fifth Sunday after the Epiphany. 

• Isaiah 6:1-8, [9-13]
• 1 Corinthians 15:1-11
• Luke 5:1-11
• Psalm 138

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

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

Prayer of the Day

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

First Reading: Isaiah 6:1-8 [9-13]

1 In the year that King Uzziah died, I saw the Lord sitting on a throne, high and lofty, and the hem of his robe filled the temple. 2 Seraphs were in attendance above him; each had six wings: with two they covered their faces, and with two they covered their feet, and with two they flew. 3 And one called to another and said,

 “Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts;

 the whole earth is full of his glory.”

4 The pivots on the thresholds shook at the voices of those who called, and the house filled with smoke. 5 And I said, “Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips, yet my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of hosts!”

  6 Then one of the seraphs flew to me, holding a live coal that had been taken from the altar with a pair of tongs. 7 The seraph touched my mouth with it and said, “Now that this has touched your lips, your guilt has departed and your sin is blotted out.” 8 Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?” And I said, “Here am I; send me!” 

[9 And he said, “Go and say to this people:

 ‘Keep listening, but do not comprehend;

 keep looking, but do not understand.’

 10 Make the mind of this people dull,

  and stop their ears,

  and shut their eyes,

 so that they may not look with their eyes

  and listen with their ears

 and comprehend with their minds

  and turn and be healed.”

 11 Then I said, “How long, O Lord?” And he said,

 “Until cities lie waste

  without inhabitant,

 and houses without people,

  and the land is utterly desolate;

 12 until the Lord sends everyone far away,

  and vast is the emptiness in the midst of the land.

 13 Even if a tenth part remain in it,

  it will be burned again,

 like a terebinth or an oak

  whose stump remains standing

  when it is felled.”

 (The holy seed is its stump.)]

Psalm: Psalm 138

Refrain: I will bow down toward your holy temple. (Ps. 138:2)

 1 I will give thanks to you, O Lord, with | my whole heart;

  before the gods I will | sing your praise.

 2 I will bow down toward your holy temple and praise your name, because of your steadfast | love and faithfulness;

  for you have glorified your name and your word a- | bove all things. R

 3 When I called, you | answered me;

  you increased my | strength within me.

 4 All the rulers of the earth will praise | you, O Lord,

  when they have heard the words | of your mouth.

 5 They will sing of the ways | of the Lord,

  that great is the glory | of the Lord.

 6 The Lord is high, yet cares | for the lowly,

  perceiving the haughty | from afar. R

 7 Though I walk in the midst of trouble, you | keep me safe;

  you stretch forth your hand against the fury of my enemies; your right | hand shall save me.

 8 You will make good your pur- | pose for me;

  O Lord, your steadfast love endures forever; do not abandon the works | of your hands. R

Second Reading: 1 Corinthians 15:1-11

1 Now I want you to understand, brothers and sisters, the good news that I proclaimed to you, which you in turn received, in which also you stand, 2 through which also you are being saved, if you hold firmly to the message that I proclaimed to you—unless you have come to believe in vain.

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

Gospel: Luke 5:1-11

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