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.

tamales and menudo

Tamales and Menudo: (traditionally) what to bring to the party on Candelaria. Candlemas. That is, the feast of the presentation. That is, today.

In the story of Anna and Simeon, of Joseph and Mary and the baby, we see observance of the Levitical law that a woman, having given birth, brings her child to the temple and there enacts a ritual of purification.

Not moral purification, simply the laws allowing her to recover from the birth and retake her place in the worshiping community. 

Many life events required ritual purification: even childbirth, however wonderful and beneficial, painful, dangerous, and joyful that childbirth could be, called for this ritual.

The end of it was indeed a celebration: the return of the mother  to society after weeks of isolation, with her health hopefully restored, and her child, by now getting used to life outside the womb among us, welcomed too. 

And there beside them, was Joseph, almost an angel, protecting, covering, comforting, accompanying.

And there to greet them were a faithful widow, the prophet Anna, who had been at the temple many years, and Simeon, a devout and righteous man, who had been anticipating, awaiting this day.

A child is born, a mother is returned to health. And yet more was happening this time, for this time, the child was Jesus. 

Hail thou long expected Jesus: as Joshua your namesake who led the people into the land of promise, Jesus lead us into the future of promise now becoming real. Hail thou long expected Jesus, come to set your people free.

What Simeon saw and Anna praised was the hand of God at work, bringing to his people peace: peace, not as the world expected it and not a magical transformation, but the simple peace of knowing and loving God in each other and ourselves. 

The temple where they awaited the savior was only a waiting place. Now they had to find the holiness they sought in the presence of God within each other and themselves.

In obedience to the law of love came the fulfillment of the promise.

The kingdom of heaven is like this: parents bring a child to the temple, where they are welcomed.

The kingdom of heaven is like this: fulfilling the role of the law brought them the savior who freed them for love.

It’s just a little child. A boy, in this case, circumcised and named eight days after his birth, and his mother, purified 33 days later.

If you do the math, that's eight days from December 25 to January 1 and 33 days from January 1 to February 2, fitting our worship calendar.

Nowadays, we don’t enact a ritual of purification as in the old days. The old prayers were for the churching of women after childbirth. Now we pray a prayer of Thanksgiving for the birth of a child. Now we add to the prayers our joy.  

The joy the parents felt that day in the temple all parents should feel, as well as the dread and anticipation of sorrow that will pierce our own souls too. 

We yearn for the transcendent joy that comes knowing God has come to us, bringing no ordinary deliverance or transitory kingdom, but the eternal reign of grace, of hope, of love, of peace.

  

But what does that look like today of all days, this year of all years?

A kingdom of peace? A reward for patient faithfulness?

I don’t want to wait until I am 84 years old. I don’t want to work for 80 years. People have, people do.

The kingdom of heaven is upon us already, but not yet, and the waiting and the working, the soul-searching patience, and the steadfast love that we await from God seems far away, and not close at hand, especially on some despairing days. 

We do see things of hope go away, but we also see what has always been faithful service continuing. 

Funding for social service can be fickle, from government or private sources. Casa Alitas has shut down. But we see that each day, each week, Samaritans venture into the desert looking for the lost. That is one example of continuing steadfast, faithfulness.

Faithfulness endures. Some years ago in another country in difficult times more difficult than ours. A man said to his friends that what is left at the ultimate moment is to pray and do what is right.

If we are that simple and that humble, we are on the right track.

Prayer sustains us, keeps us connected to what matters. And without fanfare, sometimes but rarely we can see far ahead, but usually we do know the next right thing to do, and by doing that, we move forward.

The promise of ages that Mary and Joseph and Simeon and Anna held in their arms was fragile. A promise just coming into being, but a promise beginning something wonderful – and how does it end? In a scene beyond dreams: when that child, enthroned in glory, will say:

To the people who simply prayed and did the next right thing:

I was hungry and you fed me. I was thirsty and you gave me a drink. I was naked and you clothed me. I was imprisoned and you visited me. I was sick and you visited me. I was captive in my heart and you made my soul free.

Let us in dark days or happy times not lose the heart for joy or the patient faithfulness that is not ours to accomplish but a gift to receive.

Now, Lord: the fulfillment of the promise, let it begin, with me. Amen.

Christ the King Episcopal Church, Tucson. 
Saturday 1 February 2025 6pm and Sunday 2 February 8 & 10:30am.

https://ctktucson.org/sermons/tamales-and-menudo/

https://www.youtube.com/live/VfO8G-gdIEk?feature=shared

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

From A Service of Prayer for the Nation, January 21, 2025, 
The Cathedral Church of Saint Peter & Saint Paul:

Prayers for Our Common Life

Grant, O God, that your holy and life-giving Spirit may so move every human heart and especially

the hearts of the people of this land, that barriers which divide us may crumble, suspicions disappear,

and hatreds cease; that our divisions being healed, we may live in justice and peace; through Jesus

Christ our Lord.

People Amen.

O God, you have bound us together in a common life. Help us, in the midst of our struggles for

justice and truth, to confront one another without hatred or bitterness, and to work together with

mutual forbearance and respect; through Jesus Christ our Lord.

People Amen.

A Prayer for the Nation

Almighty God,

you have given us this good land as our heritage.

Make us always remember your generosity

and constantly do your will.

Bless our land with honest industry, sound learning,

and an honorable way of life.

Save us from violence, discord, and confusion;

from pride and arrogance, and from every evil way.

Make us who come from many nations

with many different languages a united people.

Defend our liberties and give those whom we have entrusted

with the authority of government the spirit of wisdom,

that there might be justice and peace in our land.

When times are prosperous, let our hearts be thankful;

and, in troubled times, do not let our trust in you fail.

We ask all this through Jesus Christ our Lord.

People Amen.

https://cathedral.org/calendar/a-service-of-prayer-for-the-nation/

https://www.youtube.com/live/PhHE8fvf92M 

Here is George L. Kline’s translation of the poem, from Joseph Brodsky, A Part of Speech (NY: Noonday, 1996), pp. 55-7:

‘Nunc Dimittis’

When Mary first came to present the Christ Child

to God in His temple, she found—of those few

who fasted and prayed there, departing not from it—

devout Simeon and the prophetess Anna.

The holy man took the Babe up in his arms.

The three of them, lost in the grayness of dawn,

now stood like a small shifting frame that surrounded

the Child in the palpable dark of the temple.

The temple enclosed them in forests of stone.

Its lofty vaults stooped as though trying to cloak

the prophetess Anna, and Simeon, and Mary—

to hide them from men and to hide them from Heaven.

And only a chance ray of light struck the hair

of that sleeping Infant, who stirred but as yet

was conscious of nothing and blew drowsy bubbles;

old Simeon's arms held him like a stout cradle.

It had been revealed to this upright old man

that he would not die until his eyes had seen

the Son of the Lord. And it thus came to pass. And

he said: ‘Now, O Lord, lettest thou thy poor servant,

according to thy holy word, leave in peace,

for mine eyes have witnessed thine offspring: he is

thy continuation and also the source of

thy Light for idolatrous tribes, and the glory

of Israel as well.' The old Simeon paused.

The silence, regaining the temple's clear space

oozed from all its corners and almost engulfed them,

and only his echoing words grazed the rafters,

to spin for a moment, with faint rustling sounds,

high over their heads in the tall temple's vaults,

akin to a bird that can soar, yet that cannot

return to the earth, even if it should want to.

A strangeness engulfed them. The silence now seemed

as strange as the words of old Simeon's speech.

And Mary, confused and bewildered, said nothing—

so strange had his words been. He added, while turning

directly to Mary: ‘Behold, in this Child,

now close to thy breast, is concealed the great fall

of many, the great elevation of others,

a subject of strife and a source of dissension,

and that very steel which will torture his flesh

shall pierce through thine own soul as well. And that wound

will show to thee, Mary, as in a new vision

what lies hidden, deep in the hearts of all people.’

He ended and moved toward the temple's great door.

Old Anna, bent down with the weight of her years,

and Mary, now stooping gazed after him, silent.

He moved and grew smaller, in size and in meaning,

to these two frail women who stood in the gloom.

As though driven on by the force of their looks,

he strode through the cold empty space of the temple

and moved toward the whitening blur of the doorway.

The stride of his old legs was steady and firm.

When Anna's voice sounded behind him, he slowed

his step for a moment. But she was not calling

to him; she had started to bless God and praise Him.

The door came still closer. The wind stirred his robe

and fanned at his forehead; the roar of the street,

exploding in life by the door of the temple,

beat stubbornly into old Simeon's hearing.

He went forth to die. It was not the loud din

of streets that he faced when he flung the door wide,

but rather the deaf-and-dumb fields of death's kingdom.

He strode through a space that was no longer solid.

The rustle of time ebbed away in his ears.

And Simeon's soul held the form of the Child—

its feathery crown now enveloped in glory—

aloft, like a torch, pressing back the black shadows,

to light up the path that leads into death's realm,

where never before until this present hour

had any man managed to lighten his pathway.

The old man's torch glowed and the pathway grew wider.

https://logismoitouaaron.blogspot.com/2009/02/nunc-dimittis.html