Presentation

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

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

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

The Purification:

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

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

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

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

The Presentation:

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Meeting: 

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

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

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

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

Candlemas/Candelaria:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

• Matthew 5:1-12

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

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

After the Angels Have Gone

 

Landscape with the Flight into Egypt, Adam Elsheimer, 1609

We have heard the Christmas story of shepherds abiding in their fields, of angels in their glory, of a mother and child warm in a room full of fragrant animals. After the angels have gone, and the shepherds have returned to their flocks, the holy family is quiet. 

And then a series of strange events interrupt their peace. First wise men appear, bringing gifts for a king - not a newborn child - and they include not only gifts of royalty but gifts of royal burial. Anticipation indeed, to match Mary’s dread, as she had treasured the words of the archangel Gabriel in her heart. This as yet unsuspecting child will do something great and like Achilles will not have a long life but a glorious one. 

But then an angel does return, in a dream to Joseph, warning him to take Mary and Jesus and flee from Herod into a far land.

What calls to me today about all this is that the magi are pilgrims and the family are refugees. 

People move; that’s what they do. They come here to southern Arizona, for example, for all sorts of reasons: they are coming for a better life or a job or the climate or a family reuniting. 

They come as immigrants, seeking to become new Americans. They come seeking asylum, seeking a respite from danger, persecution, violence. They come as resettling refugees, some leaving behind persecution or war, civil strife, or natural disaster. Some stay; some move on.

But all of them are worthy of respect, and welcome. And they receive it here, from some. For others, Scrooge’s retort “are there no workhouses?” still sums up the operative philosophy.

What would we think if we discovered we had been harboring a king? Making welcome for awhile the hope of the universe, the promise of ages, the one to come not simply for his own people but for all peoples of the earth?

The magi, it has been pointed out, are the first Gentiles, the first representatives of the nations and peoples outside of Israel, to bear witness to who Jesus is. It is the first epiphany. Other epiphanies follow, as when Simeon and Anna bless the child at his Presentation or when Jesus is found in the Temple discussing theology with the rabbis even before his Bar Mitzvah.

For now the baby is sleeping. But he will awake. And what he will bring, as he gathers people to himself, is an extraordinary revolution. For no one, from now on, will really be a refugee - for we will all be at home in our father’s house, his father’s house. But for that to happen we must join the party. Begin the celebration. Start the work. Build better than just back better, build new on old foundations something profound and deeply rooted. The kingdom this child will proclaim has been proclaimed in the stars; now it must become true in ourselves.

What that means in our time is making room - making room in our hearts and making room in our communities, for those who come to us with strange news, like the magi, or wonder, like the shepherds, or a song of glory, like the angels, or like a group of people traveling to a new home. 

May they find it with us, if God calls them to turn aside and settle here, even if only for a while. May they find food for the journey, companions for the way, if their pilgrimage takes them farther. 

And may we, returning home again after our own journeys, exiles, pilgrims, refugees, find our last true home with that child, who began life so quietly and yet so wondrously.

• Jeremiah 31:7-14

• Psalm 84

• Ephesians 1:3-6,15-19a

• Matthew 2:1-12 , 13-15

• https://www.lectionarypage.net/YearABC/Christmas/Christmas2.html 

When the Song of the Angels Is Stilled

When the song of the angels is stilled, When the star in the sky is gone, When the kings and the princes are home, When the shepherds are back with their flocks, The work of Christmas begins: To find the lost, To heal the broken, To feed the hungry, To release the prisoner, To rebuild the nations, To bring peace among people, To make music in the heart.

(Howard Thurman)

https://fcjsisters.wordpress.com/2013/01/11/when-the-song-of-the-angels-is-stilled-howard-thurman/

http://edgeofenclosure.org/holyinnocentschrstms1a.html

Hope in a Dark Time

MATTHEW 2:13-15

And when the wise men were departed, behold, the angel of the Lord appeareth to Joseph in a dream, saying, Arise, and take the young child and his mother, and flee into Egypt, and be thou there until I bring thee word: for Herod will seek the young child to destroy him.
When he arose, he took the young child and his mother by night, and departed into Egypt:
And was there until the death of Herod: that it might be fulfilled which was spoken of the Lord by the prophet, saying, Out of Egypt have I called my son. (Matthew 2:13-15)

Hospital bed counts are surging; pandemic deaths are on the rise; and yet there is hope in a dark time. The vaccines are beginning to appear and county by county decisions are being made, and health care givers and others are receiving their first dose of two. (These are still experimental vaccines. Nobody knows how long immunity lasts, and it certainly does not mean letting down your guard - or your neighbors - on mask, distance, outdoors, sanitize your hands - just before you touch your face), or test, treat, trace... 

Ian Rankin wrote a book just before the pandemic hit his native Scotland, A Song for the Dark Times, with an epigram from Bertolt Brecht:

In the dark times
Will there also be singing?
Yes, there will also be singing.
About the dark times.

And sometimes it feels like that is the best we can hope for - but we have friends, from the past, and hopefully from the future, who know how it feels. We meet some of them in the story of the three kings, notably magi, Mary, Joseph, and a child. They are briefly near each other, as the planets Saturn and Jupiter have been briefly near each other this past couple of weeks, but soon they are headed in widely different directions: the magi back to their own country, the holy family headed to the land of the Nile. There they will sojourn until they get the word Big Herod is dead.

But as we learn, there is a little Herod, or two, waiting in the wings. And that may be so in our own dark times too. 

What we do have, as they had, is the faithfulness of God, and his keeping his promise, in extraordinary ways. We do not expect this Messiah, the one we get in Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. If we needed another hero we may be disappointed. And he does not just make it all go away like magic. 

Mask, distance, outdoors, wash hands; test, trace, treat... still. And for months to come. 

What will we have learned? What will we have left behind? Whom shall we be mourning by then?

In the dark times,

there is singing:

"Nations will stream to your light and kings to the brightness of your dawning".

"A light to the nations and the glory of your people"

"The light shines in the darkness and the darkness has never overcome it."

Prophets and apostles, and the ever ending casts of Messiah, and we too, are singing -- in the darkness, but not simply of the darkness. Like the wise virgins in the parable that very child will later tell, we keep our lamps trimmed and burning, not because the darkness is not there, but because it is - and we have hope.

Hope in a dark time.

• Jeremiah 31:7-14
• Psalm 84
• Ephesians 1:3-6,15-19a
• Matthew 2:1-12 , 13-15
• https://www.lectionarypage.net/YearABC/Christmas/Christmas2.html

A Song for the Dark Times. Video intro with the author. https://youtu.be/FQ3PWZ7D2lU

https://www.goodreads.com/quotes/46223-motto-in-the-dark-times-will-there-also-be-singing

Christina Rossetti

Christina Georgina Rossetti
5 December 1830 – 29 December 1894
Poet and inspiration.

What I know (and love) best about Christina Rosetti is her poetry/hymnody. She was the model for the figure of Mary in her brother Dante's depiction of the Annunciation. But her poetry... 

Hymn 112 (The Hymnal 1982) we sing at Christmas. "In the bleak midwinter, frosty wind made moan, earth stood hard as iron, water like a stone; snow had fallen, snow on snow, snow on snow, in the bleak midwinter, long ago...."

Christina Rossetti was the model for the figure of Mary on the right. Painting by her brother Dante. Ecce Ancilla Domini! (The Anunciation) 

https://www.bl.uk/romantics-and-victorians/articles/the-pre-raphaelites

Psalm 84
Exodus 3:1-6
Revelation 21:1-4
Matthew 6:19-23

Hymnal 1982, #112 "In the bleak midwinter"
https://hymnary.org/hymn/EH1982/112
https://hymnary.org/text/in_the_bleak_midwinter
https://hymnary.org/person/Rossetti_CG

Author of "Goblin Market and other poems" (1862)

revolutionary baby

Have you ever been present at the birth of a baby? … Oh yes you have! 

There’s a lot going on - excitement or hush, quiet, fuss, anxiety, hope, sorrow, wondering what happens next. Rarely do you have to make a run for it…as if having a baby were some sort of criminal activity, John Dillinger in diapers — or a threat to the state, a subversive activity — so you had to go on the lam into hiding, or exile. But with this baby— 

Maybe there is a threat! A threat to the old regime, the old order of doing business.

Because this is a revolutionary baby. Its birth means the old order of things is going away and something new is emerging. It’s a revolution that begins with a child — and a little family sheltering in the old home town, a visit from total strangers who smell of sheep and then some travelers who smell of strange spices, followed by a warning, in a dream, to get out of there, leave it all behind, and go far away. Over the border, across a river and a desert, to sanctuary.

Like anyone fleeing what they cannot stand and face. 

Like anyone carrying something so precious that the hope of the world, the promise of ages, depends on its deliverance.

That could be any baby. Couldn’t it, but it’s this one, right now, in the little town of Bethlehem, under the shadow of the soldiers and their towers, then into exile in some distant place then return — another dream — and then settled down in the hill town of Nazareth in Galilee. 

Not back home. Not really. The situation has changed.

And that is the threat, and the promise of this infant revolution. All is calm, and then nothing is. And we will see this child grow, as he learns who he really is, and who we really are.

Behold the child of God. And behold God’s love for all his children.

Old Herod the Great and his three dysfunctional sons and the emperor over the sea and all their minions and sycophants, — know what it takes, know what it means, for this small infant to come.

It seems fanciful, ridiculous, that a king, a great builder, and an empire could feel threat from something so small as a family, and a child. But the hope — that is great and inexorable — that is fragile and perfect, is already present in this small beginning. 

And in the small beginning each of us makes. Knowing that we too are the children of God. And that now something new, a new way of being, is coming to life.

***

Eric celebrated his 70th birthday again this year. He and his wife Viviana, my cousin, have been working together creating the Blue Ox Millworks and Historic Park in Eureka, California, since they were married. I was there for their wedding and three years ago for their fortieth wedding anniversary. That afternoon as we gathered in the yard of the Blue Ox they stood in front of their Redwood Shrine, built around a very large cross-section of a coast redwood tree. Describing it, I imagined a 16 foot diameter. Nope. More like 35. The tree that it came from was called the Fieldbrook Giant. It was more than 350 feet tall, and was felled a hundred twenty years ago on a bet. Sections were shipped as far as England. And one ended up in a Eureka tourist shop, for a hundred years, until Eric salvaged it and brought it to the Blue Ox. 

The thirteen-and-a-half ton section they took to England ended up in Cliveden, the trophy home of the wealthy man who had the tree cut down. The National Trust had an interest in studying its tree rings - but it was set in a floor and the researcher they called in, another cousin of mine, decided not to mar it. So there it was, a once living thing over a thousand years old, in pieces, one on the floor of a building in England and another propped against the back of a shop in Eureka, California.

Pretty dead huh? But the story continues… in a minute.

Matthew recalls that the Scripture says he will be called a Nazorean” - probably a conflation of two separate verses. And the meaning is unclear. A Nazirite is a person set aside, dedicated. Which fits. They are settling in Nazareth. Okay. Obvious. And last — and this is intriguing —

the word Nazorean could come from the Hebrew nezer — which means “shoot” or “branch.” The prophet Isaiah says, “A shoot shall sprout from the stump of Jesse.” (11:1) And there you are — the branch of Jesse’s tree has come to life.

Now whatever happened to that big old tree cut down in 1896? We heard about the sections here and there, distributed for the admiration of tourists. But what was left of the living tree? No way could you make anything grow again, right? Is there hope for a tree cut down?

Someone learned of a project to clone the one hundred oldest biggest trees, to make a living archive of these ancient giants - and as they were thinking about it they walked by the Blue Ox. There was the Fieldbrook Giant - or a slice of it. 

What if…? So he went in and talked to Eric, and then to the living archive people. And the tree archive people got ahold of the landowner in Fieldbrook where the stump still stood - and from the stump a shoot had sprouted and they were able to start a few new little saplings. 

One of them I saw in September, in front of that big old round off the old tree. And when I went back in early December, it had grown…

The story of the Holy Family, the Flight into Egypt, is at first a story filled with fear and apprehension, with sudden movement from safety and joy into a harsh world, and through the desert seeking refuge in a new place. 

But then it becomes again what it was when we beheld the babe in a manger - a story of extraordinary hope, revolutionary hope, of seeing beyond dreams to a new reality. God’s vision is of a future for us of hope.

For surely I know the plans I have for you, says the Lord, plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope. (Jeremiah 29:11)

What happens when a new tree emerges from an old stump? When a people re-emerges from captivity into new life? When we, held back perhaps by the sins of our own lives or the circumstances we are surrounded by, are able to look beyond and see that God is with us?

Then that is revolutionary indeed.

January 5

Second Sunday after Christmas

• Jeremiah 31:7-14
• Psalm 84 or 84:1-8
• Ephesians 1:3-6,15-19a
• Matthew 2:13-15,19-23

https://www.northcoastjournal.com/humboldt/redwood-reborn/Content?oid=15732133

Presentation 2012

Jesus is the Light of the World – and today, the feast of the Presentation, we celebrate him – the light of the nations, and the glory of his people. 


This is the last feast in the series that anticipates and celebrates the birth of the Christ Child, from the joyful expectations of Advent, the feast of the Nativity – Christmas itself, to the feast of the Holy Name eight days later on January 1^st, the visit of the Magi who proclaim him King of the Jews and present him with gifts, to this feast 40 days after Christmas, when we remember that Mary and Joseph presented him, the first-born son, in the Temple.

Jesus is the Light of the World – and Simeon the righteous and Anna the prophetess are there in the Temple to tell them so.

He is the One all Israel has been waiting for; indeed, the whole world has been waiting for him.

For he is the hope of the world, the One who brings light that is life to all people.

As the Gospel of John says in its very first chapter,

What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people.

Those were dark days for Israel and any glimmer of hope would have been welcome. But here was more than a glimmer – here was the source of light and life itself come into the world.

The Word that was from the beginning became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory.

This is the glory for his people. This is the light for the world. This One who came into the world: Jesus, the Christ Child whom Simeon embraced:

At last! At last! Now I can go in peace, knowing God is fulfilling the promise:

The promise of Salvation – healing, wholeness, help and hope, and liberation from the bondage of sin, the ultimate oppressor;

The promise of Redemption – no longer will God’s people live under the unbearable burden of sin;

The promise of Atonement – for God has reconciled all to himself in this One, this promised Child.

The child of the promise –

whom you have prepared for all the world to see, a light to enlighten the nations,  and the glory – the shining forth in praise of God – of the people of God.

(The Lord is our light; whom then shall we fear?)

This child, Simeon goes on to say, will see the rise of some and the fall of others – and those who will fall will not be happy. Even in this moment of joy there is a warning:

Jesus is Redeemer and he is Judge.

He is Judge – that is, the bringer of Justice – the one who establishes righteousness in the realm of God – and

the road to justice,

the road to freedom,

the road to righteousness and peace,

is not an easy road –

it will lead to the Cross,

and beyond, beyond Death, to victory even over Death,

to the final reconciliation of all people to God in his Son.

Through Christ, through this Child, the world will be judged and made right in the reckoning, and it will be led to freedom.

Anna prophesies that the redemption of Jerusalem, the renewal of God’s city, will come through this same infant.

40 days old! and already a legend – no, more than that: a living promise, a word of fulfillment.

The night is past and day is dawning – the new day illuminated by the light of Christ.

He is the light of the world, and he calls us, come and follow me!

Come and follow me! How then shall we follow him?

How shall we bear forth that light that is life?


How shall we let the light of Christ shine forth – 

from us, from this place, this gathering of God’s people?

How shall we let the light shine – the light for the world?

We begin to look at what Jesus said of his own ministry, his own work in the world, that he calls us to follow him in doing.

As he says:

The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because he has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom to the captives and recovery of sight to those who are blind, to set free the oppressed and to proclaim the year of the Lord’s jubilee.

And this Scripture, from the book of the prophet Isaiah, began to be fulfilled even in the reading.

The day of the Lord is dawning. The light has come into the world. How shall we show him shining –

-      in our lives?

-      in our hearts?

-      in our ways, of doing, and being, in the world?

That is the challenge that we face today.


Let us be carriers of his light.

Let us each take up that illumination that lasts forever,          and is not quenched,

that the light of Christ may shine forth from us,

         for all people.

                                                                                          Amen.

Malachi 3:1-4 
Psalm 84  

Hebrews 2:14-18 
Luke 2:22-40 

Feast of the Presentation 
2012


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