Homily Epiphany 4 Yr. B
It was a time of uncertainty. A time of conflict. A time of destruction. A time of fear. But it was also a time of hope that a new vision would emerge from the ruins of the old.
The time I am talking about was about 70 years after the birth of Jesus. Jews in Palestine were in revolt against their Roman occupiers. In response the Temple of Jerusalem, rebuilt once before, was destroyed by the Romans.
Followers of Jesus, still a sect within Judaism, were caught in between the violence of Roman, and the violence of the Jewish militants.
It was at this time the first Gospel, the Gospel of Mark, which we use in the lectionary frequently this year, was written down. We now know nothing like Mark’s Gospel had ever been written down before.
Gospel literally means “good news.” It was not history, or biography. Mark started with the Baptism of Jesus in the wilderness, and covered the last three years of his life in a sparse account.
There is a sense of urgency in Mark’s account. He uses the word “immediately” often to move the action forward. The story is told in narrative style without the lengthy stories and discourses used in the other three Gospels.
Everything is condensed in Mark. There are only 16 chapters, and the Gospel ends with the empty tomb, and without any post-Resurrection appearances by Jesus.
Mark is the source for Luke and Matthew, but they add other material.
You’ll notice if you read Mark looking the teaching of Jesus, you won’t find much, although Mark refers to Jesus as a teacher 11 times, and mentions him teaching 16 times.
Take today’s Gospel. The people are astounded at the power and authority of the teaching of Jesus, yet what he is teaching is not recorded.
Jesus brings a new kind of authority, an authority which is different than what people are used to from the scribes and Pharisees—who Jesus is in conflict with throughout Mark’s narrative.
The messianic calling of Jesus is not proclaimed in Mark. Indeed Jesus often tells followers and those he heals to keep his identity a secret.
As in our reading from Deuteronomy, the messianic calling is embodied—for Jesus in acts of healing, casting out demons, acts of compassion and love.
Jesus is teaching us how to live by setting an example, as Paul does when he talks about what Corinthians should do if they are offered food left over from pagan sacrifices.
The book of Deuteronomy is a farewell message from Moses. He has led his people in the wilderness, and even seen the promised land from a mountain top but he will never get there.
In today’s reading we see anticipation that Israel will see a future prophet, one with authority. We see the yearning of the Hebrew people for a Messiah.
It is significant in today’s Gospel passage that Jesus makes his first public appearance at Capernaum. When he teaches in the synagogue there, the people recognize his authority. They are astounded by his teaching, Mark reports.
The encounter with the man with the unclean spirit is all about authority too.
“What have you to do with us Jesus of Nazareth. Have you come to destroy us. I know who you are, the Holy one of God.”
But rather than arguing, Jesus responds with compassion, healing the man, and casting out the spirit. By that act, he is defying the authority of the Scribes and Pharisees.
But Mark doesn’t want us to see Jesus simply as an exorcist, or miracle worker. Jesus wants his followers to look deeper into the symbolic nature of his acts of compassion.
How do we apply this in our lives?
Perhaps the most important lesson we can draw is that our Christian faith must be embodied in all parts of our lives—our work, our leisure activities, our relationships. Our life in the community.
Our faith is not a matter of believing a number of propositions. It is in living out the faith in the Risen Christ, who calls us to love God and love our neighbour as ourselves. Everything flows from that embodied faith.
We also need to prayerfully discern what we are called to do, at this time and in this place.
Our scriptures are not a historic document of events which happened 2,000 years ago. It is a living testimony of faith, which must be studied and applied.
We can be distracted from that task, and the task of living out our faith by many things: materialism, greed, addictions, anger, selfishness.
Yet it is in our life together with others that we can also live out our faith, caring and serving.
Our society often treats faith, or religion as an individual matter. But there is no escaping the social dimension.
In the next scene in Mark’s account, Jesus moves to bring healing to the “whole city” who are gathered at the place he is staying.
Then, as now, people are hungry for healing, and for hope.
Sunday, 29 January 2012
Sunday, 22 January 2012
A Whale of a Tale: Forgiveness and repentance
Homily Epiphany 3 Yr. B 2012
You might not think of the Bible as a place where you will find satire. But what else can we make of the story of Jonah, which was written about the sixth century before Christ, when the Hebrew people were in exile in Babylon.
While today’s first reading only includes a few verses from the Book of Jonah, it is the only time we encounter Jonah in our three year lectionary. Since Jonah was included in our canon of scripture for a purpose, it’s worth considering the story.
To start off with here is a brief outline of the story, which only takes four brief chapters. Jonah is called by God to go and preach to Nineveh, a wicked and disobedient city.
But unlike the other prophets of the Hebrews, Jonah flees. Instead of going to Nineveh he jumps on a ship to escape God. So God sends a great storm. Jonah blames himself for the storm when confronted by the sailors, and they throw him into the sea. Then the storm stops.
God provides a large fish—we usually assume it was a whale—to swallow Jonah and he lives in the belly of the fish for three says and nights. He prays to God, expressing his faith and thanksgiving, and is answered when the fish spews Jonah out on land.
Then God speaks to Jonah again, and tells him to get to Nineveh, and proclaim the message of repentance that God wants him to proclaim. Jonah, having survived the fish, finally does what God asks and surprise, the people repent in sackcloth and ashes, including the king. They turn from their evil ways, and God does not bring a calamity on them.
This is where the story takes a twist. Instead of being happy to do God’s work, and see the people of Nineveh repent and turn away from Evil, Jonah is mad. He asks God to take his life.
Jonah retreats out of the city and waits to see what happens, camped under a bush God gave him to protect him from the sun. But the next day God sends a worm to attack the bush, so it withers. And the sun beats down on Jonah, bringing him again thoughts of dying.
So the story ends with God asking Jonah why he should be angry about the bush, and why God should not be concerned about Nineveh, a great city of 120,000 people who had lost their way.
Now what are we to make of this rather unusual story.
Jonah can be seen as sort of an anti-prophet. The only prophetic thing he says to the people of Nineveh ids a warning from God: “Forty days more and Nineveh shall be overthrown.”
Jonah hardly covers himself with glory in the story. He first refuses God’s call, and jumps a ship. Then he sleeps through a storm until others wake him. Then he ends up throwing a tantrum when God forgives the repentant people of Nineveh.
So Jonah is hardly what think of as a prophet—fearful, bitter, angry, depressed. In the end Jonah just can’t let go. Instead of rejoicing when the Ninevites are spared God’s wrath, he is shocked, and dismayed. He is more interested in punishing sinners, than seeing people turn towards God and away from evil.
So what does this story of Jonah—the reluctant, and angry prophet—have to say to us, living in such a different time and place.
Perhaps the best way to approach this is what Jonah might have meant to the Hebrew people in the sixth century BC.
It was a time of great upheaval for the Hebrews. They’d been driven out of their homeland, and they feared they might never be able to return. They wanted to maintain their identity against other cultures and religious faiths in the Persian empire. Some Hebrews wanted to separate into their own communities to resist integration. They also struggled with their fate as exiles. Was it a punishment by God?
The story of Jonah sets up Nineveh as a symbol of evil and wrongdoing. And when Jonah finally passes on God’s message of impending judgment, Jonah is expecting the God of the Hebrews will show no mercy and punish these evildoers.
When instead they repent, from the king on down, it shatters Jonah’s preconceptions, about the people of Nineveh, about God, and about himself, so hetells God it is better for him not to live.
But what Jonah considers undeserved forgiveness on God’s part has been shown throughout history to that time in God’s merciful treatment of the Hebrew people, despite their disobedience.
One of the themes raised by Jonah therefore becomes God’s acceptance of all people, regardless of their backgrounds, provided they repent and believe.
Jesus provides a contrast to Jonah as a prophet. He willingly accepts God’s call, and is baptized, and preaches to all a message of repentance and fogiveness. He also spends three days, not in the belly of the whale, but in between his death by crucifixion, and his rising again to new life.
The part of the Jonah story which most relates to our lives in the 21st century is the reluctant prophet…God calls us to live out our faith—to proclaim the Gospel, share the good news.
Yet at a time when that Good News is needed more than ever, we are reluctant. Like Jonah we are easily discouraged, and angered. We would sometimes, like Jonah, like to jump on a ship and go to sleep to avoid God’s calling.
Instead God calls us during this season of Epiphany to awaken to the light of Christ, and to shine that light into a world which is sometimes far too dark.
You might not think of the Bible as a place where you will find satire. But what else can we make of the story of Jonah, which was written about the sixth century before Christ, when the Hebrew people were in exile in Babylon.
While today’s first reading only includes a few verses from the Book of Jonah, it is the only time we encounter Jonah in our three year lectionary. Since Jonah was included in our canon of scripture for a purpose, it’s worth considering the story.
To start off with here is a brief outline of the story, which only takes four brief chapters. Jonah is called by God to go and preach to Nineveh, a wicked and disobedient city.
But unlike the other prophets of the Hebrews, Jonah flees. Instead of going to Nineveh he jumps on a ship to escape God. So God sends a great storm. Jonah blames himself for the storm when confronted by the sailors, and they throw him into the sea. Then the storm stops.
God provides a large fish—we usually assume it was a whale—to swallow Jonah and he lives in the belly of the fish for three says and nights. He prays to God, expressing his faith and thanksgiving, and is answered when the fish spews Jonah out on land.
Then God speaks to Jonah again, and tells him to get to Nineveh, and proclaim the message of repentance that God wants him to proclaim. Jonah, having survived the fish, finally does what God asks and surprise, the people repent in sackcloth and ashes, including the king. They turn from their evil ways, and God does not bring a calamity on them.
This is where the story takes a twist. Instead of being happy to do God’s work, and see the people of Nineveh repent and turn away from Evil, Jonah is mad. He asks God to take his life.
Jonah retreats out of the city and waits to see what happens, camped under a bush God gave him to protect him from the sun. But the next day God sends a worm to attack the bush, so it withers. And the sun beats down on Jonah, bringing him again thoughts of dying.
So the story ends with God asking Jonah why he should be angry about the bush, and why God should not be concerned about Nineveh, a great city of 120,000 people who had lost their way.
Now what are we to make of this rather unusual story.
Jonah can be seen as sort of an anti-prophet. The only prophetic thing he says to the people of Nineveh ids a warning from God: “Forty days more and Nineveh shall be overthrown.”
Jonah hardly covers himself with glory in the story. He first refuses God’s call, and jumps a ship. Then he sleeps through a storm until others wake him. Then he ends up throwing a tantrum when God forgives the repentant people of Nineveh.
So Jonah is hardly what think of as a prophet—fearful, bitter, angry, depressed. In the end Jonah just can’t let go. Instead of rejoicing when the Ninevites are spared God’s wrath, he is shocked, and dismayed. He is more interested in punishing sinners, than seeing people turn towards God and away from evil.
So what does this story of Jonah—the reluctant, and angry prophet—have to say to us, living in such a different time and place.
Perhaps the best way to approach this is what Jonah might have meant to the Hebrew people in the sixth century BC.
It was a time of great upheaval for the Hebrews. They’d been driven out of their homeland, and they feared they might never be able to return. They wanted to maintain their identity against other cultures and religious faiths in the Persian empire. Some Hebrews wanted to separate into their own communities to resist integration. They also struggled with their fate as exiles. Was it a punishment by God?
The story of Jonah sets up Nineveh as a symbol of evil and wrongdoing. And when Jonah finally passes on God’s message of impending judgment, Jonah is expecting the God of the Hebrews will show no mercy and punish these evildoers.
When instead they repent, from the king on down, it shatters Jonah’s preconceptions, about the people of Nineveh, about God, and about himself, so hetells God it is better for him not to live.
But what Jonah considers undeserved forgiveness on God’s part has been shown throughout history to that time in God’s merciful treatment of the Hebrew people, despite their disobedience.
One of the themes raised by Jonah therefore becomes God’s acceptance of all people, regardless of their backgrounds, provided they repent and believe.
Jesus provides a contrast to Jonah as a prophet. He willingly accepts God’s call, and is baptized, and preaches to all a message of repentance and fogiveness. He also spends three days, not in the belly of the whale, but in between his death by crucifixion, and his rising again to new life.
The part of the Jonah story which most relates to our lives in the 21st century is the reluctant prophet…God calls us to live out our faith—to proclaim the Gospel, share the good news.
Yet at a time when that Good News is needed more than ever, we are reluctant. Like Jonah we are easily discouraged, and angered. We would sometimes, like Jonah, like to jump on a ship and go to sleep to avoid God’s calling.
Instead God calls us during this season of Epiphany to awaken to the light of Christ, and to shine that light into a world which is sometimes far too dark.
Sunday, 15 January 2012
God's Call and Our Response
Homily Second Sunday After Epiphany Year B, 2012
When were you called by God?
That’s a question which is raised when we think about today’s reading from Samuel, parts of the 139th psalm, and the passage from John’s Gospel.
We often think in terms of our lives as consumers, customers, making informed choices about education, leisure pursuits, friends, activities, and even what we believe about politics and faith issues.
And yet this idea of call and response is at the centre of today’s scriptural teaching.
That’s not to say we don’t have free will. As Christians we believe God creates us with free will. God also is present with us. God cares for us. God sent his son Jesus to share in our humanity, and the holy spirit to give us strength.
So we don’t believe our lives are all mapped out, and we don’t have any choices. We are not simply marionettes. Like many other Christians we do not believe in what is called pre-destination.
Having said that Samuel, the psalmist and John all remind us of God’s call, and the power of that call in our lives, if we respond.
Think of those powerful words in the psalm: “You created my inmost being; You knit me together in my mother’s womb. My frame was not hidden from you, When I was away in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, Your eyes saw my unformed body.”
So our intimacy with God is both inspiring, and frightening. That’s what makes Christianity different from other monotheistic religions, we believe in God who is both omniscient—over all the universe---and personal. To be on intimate terms with the creator of the universe is frightening.
There is nothing we can hide from God. Some people feel threatened by that.
During the past two thousand years since the calling of those first disciples outlined in John’s Gospel, call and response have been at the centre of our lives as Christians.
This is how we have grown from a small Jewish sect in an outlying corner of the Roman Empire to the largest body of religious believers in the world, some 2.3 billion people. While our numbers are somewhat in decline in the affluent west-Europe and North America, they are growing in South America, Africa and Asia.
“Your works are wonderful, O Lord. Lord you have searched me out and known me; you know my sitting down and my rising up; you discern my thoughts from afar,” says the psalmist.
That’s a hard concept to grasp. Maybe it is more difficult for us in an age of affluence and technological progress, since we think we can do it all ourselves. Our human pride doesn’t allow us to conceive of God as co-creator of the ongoing life of the world.
God didn’t just create the universe, then sit back and let things happen. We believe in God who created, and is creating, through the Holy Spirit.
God calls us over and over, as he did the young Samuel. God knows us before we know him, as Nathaniel found out.
Philip had been called by Jesus, and Philip in turn witnessed to Nathaniel about Jesus. Nathaniel initially doubted—hence the famous line—can anything good come out of Nazareth?” But Philip persists: “Come and See.”
Nathaniel does meet Jesus, and comes to faith.
The style of evangelism Philip used has always been the most effective. You can tell someone what a difference your faith has made, and how much your faith community, your parish means to you. However in order to evangelize, or share the good news, you have to ask them to “come and see.”
Our scripture readings today stress the importance of making that invitation.
When I think of how I got involved again with a parish after finishing university and moving out west, it was based on an invitation. Some friends who I worked with were members of the Cathedral choir in Edmonton. I had never sung in a choir since grade school—too busy with other things, but I had never been invited.
And when I turned up I found quite a mix of people from choir boys still in elementary school to seniors. The choirmaster was a crusty Australian, Hugh Bancroft who had come to Canada and made his home as musician—playing organ and directing choirs in Anglican Cathedrals in Winnipeg then Edmonton. We use his hymn “There’s a Voice in the Wilderness” during Advent.
So I found a home in All Saints Choir and when I moved to Calgary, was asked again to join the choir at the first parish I joined there.
So call has been important in my life—not only in terms of being a choir member and active in parish life, but in later discerning a call to ordained ministry after 20 years as a journalist.
We can all be called to different ministries in the church, and we can respond to that call in some way no matter what our age, or what the circumstances are.
Our parish is in the midst of a challenging time of discerning its call to ministry, and how that might look, both in the short term, and in the longer term. We are working as a parish council, and as a congregation to look at the future, and what kind of parish we will be, and what that would entail—in terms of change.
Might we become partners with another parish? Could we share priestly ministry?
How would we make best use of buildings and other assets?
How do we move forward with a committed but heavily taxed group of lay volunteers—now combined with a full-time priest and part-time organist, secretary and janitorial staff---but in the fall looking at part-time clergy coverage.
There are no easy solutions, and Archdeacon Millward told the parish council and other interested parishioners yesterday that of the 34 parishes he supervises as archdeacon—thirteen will have vacancies by the fall. So there will be a shortage of clergy, at least for the short term.
But it all comes back to call. This is a major time of change for the church, and we are not alone in facing these difficult challenges. We have to discern our call to ministry and how we can build sustainable parishes.
As the Archdeacon told us, there is no master plan that would close this parish or any other. That decision is up to the parish.
Parishes do face the challenge that if they don’t make positive decisions to change, they will be left in a position where there is simply no other alternative.
Whatever happens we need to remember that none of this is our fault. The parish faces a radically different society, and a radically different mission field than during its heydays in the 1950’s. Sundays are no longer for church for most people—even nominal Christians use Sundays—including Sunday mornings as a day for sports, family time, social activity, and community events.
With two income families, time is in short supply for parents of young children, and even the evangelical churches have a somewhat older demographic than they used to.
So let us accept the things we cannot change, as the old saying goes, and realize that this parish has a rich history, which we give thanks for, and a future which is uncertain. Let us pray for wisdom and patience as move into a wilderness time where we are clearly seeking direction, and God’s blessing.
When were you called by God?
That’s a question which is raised when we think about today’s reading from Samuel, parts of the 139th psalm, and the passage from John’s Gospel.
We often think in terms of our lives as consumers, customers, making informed choices about education, leisure pursuits, friends, activities, and even what we believe about politics and faith issues.
And yet this idea of call and response is at the centre of today’s scriptural teaching.
That’s not to say we don’t have free will. As Christians we believe God creates us with free will. God also is present with us. God cares for us. God sent his son Jesus to share in our humanity, and the holy spirit to give us strength.
So we don’t believe our lives are all mapped out, and we don’t have any choices. We are not simply marionettes. Like many other Christians we do not believe in what is called pre-destination.
Having said that Samuel, the psalmist and John all remind us of God’s call, and the power of that call in our lives, if we respond.
Think of those powerful words in the psalm: “You created my inmost being; You knit me together in my mother’s womb. My frame was not hidden from you, When I was away in the secret place. When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, Your eyes saw my unformed body.”
So our intimacy with God is both inspiring, and frightening. That’s what makes Christianity different from other monotheistic religions, we believe in God who is both omniscient—over all the universe---and personal. To be on intimate terms with the creator of the universe is frightening.
There is nothing we can hide from God. Some people feel threatened by that.
During the past two thousand years since the calling of those first disciples outlined in John’s Gospel, call and response have been at the centre of our lives as Christians.
This is how we have grown from a small Jewish sect in an outlying corner of the Roman Empire to the largest body of religious believers in the world, some 2.3 billion people. While our numbers are somewhat in decline in the affluent west-Europe and North America, they are growing in South America, Africa and Asia.
“Your works are wonderful, O Lord. Lord you have searched me out and known me; you know my sitting down and my rising up; you discern my thoughts from afar,” says the psalmist.
That’s a hard concept to grasp. Maybe it is more difficult for us in an age of affluence and technological progress, since we think we can do it all ourselves. Our human pride doesn’t allow us to conceive of God as co-creator of the ongoing life of the world.
God didn’t just create the universe, then sit back and let things happen. We believe in God who created, and is creating, through the Holy Spirit.
God calls us over and over, as he did the young Samuel. God knows us before we know him, as Nathaniel found out.
Philip had been called by Jesus, and Philip in turn witnessed to Nathaniel about Jesus. Nathaniel initially doubted—hence the famous line—can anything good come out of Nazareth?” But Philip persists: “Come and See.”
Nathaniel does meet Jesus, and comes to faith.
The style of evangelism Philip used has always been the most effective. You can tell someone what a difference your faith has made, and how much your faith community, your parish means to you. However in order to evangelize, or share the good news, you have to ask them to “come and see.”
Our scripture readings today stress the importance of making that invitation.
When I think of how I got involved again with a parish after finishing university and moving out west, it was based on an invitation. Some friends who I worked with were members of the Cathedral choir in Edmonton. I had never sung in a choir since grade school—too busy with other things, but I had never been invited.
And when I turned up I found quite a mix of people from choir boys still in elementary school to seniors. The choirmaster was a crusty Australian, Hugh Bancroft who had come to Canada and made his home as musician—playing organ and directing choirs in Anglican Cathedrals in Winnipeg then Edmonton. We use his hymn “There’s a Voice in the Wilderness” during Advent.
So I found a home in All Saints Choir and when I moved to Calgary, was asked again to join the choir at the first parish I joined there.
So call has been important in my life—not only in terms of being a choir member and active in parish life, but in later discerning a call to ordained ministry after 20 years as a journalist.
We can all be called to different ministries in the church, and we can respond to that call in some way no matter what our age, or what the circumstances are.
Our parish is in the midst of a challenging time of discerning its call to ministry, and how that might look, both in the short term, and in the longer term. We are working as a parish council, and as a congregation to look at the future, and what kind of parish we will be, and what that would entail—in terms of change.
Might we become partners with another parish? Could we share priestly ministry?
How would we make best use of buildings and other assets?
How do we move forward with a committed but heavily taxed group of lay volunteers—now combined with a full-time priest and part-time organist, secretary and janitorial staff---but in the fall looking at part-time clergy coverage.
There are no easy solutions, and Archdeacon Millward told the parish council and other interested parishioners yesterday that of the 34 parishes he supervises as archdeacon—thirteen will have vacancies by the fall. So there will be a shortage of clergy, at least for the short term.
But it all comes back to call. This is a major time of change for the church, and we are not alone in facing these difficult challenges. We have to discern our call to ministry and how we can build sustainable parishes.
As the Archdeacon told us, there is no master plan that would close this parish or any other. That decision is up to the parish.
Parishes do face the challenge that if they don’t make positive decisions to change, they will be left in a position where there is simply no other alternative.
Whatever happens we need to remember that none of this is our fault. The parish faces a radically different society, and a radically different mission field than during its heydays in the 1950’s. Sundays are no longer for church for most people—even nominal Christians use Sundays—including Sunday mornings as a day for sports, family time, social activity, and community events.
With two income families, time is in short supply for parents of young children, and even the evangelical churches have a somewhat older demographic than they used to.
So let us accept the things we cannot change, as the old saying goes, and realize that this parish has a rich history, which we give thanks for, and a future which is uncertain. Let us pray for wisdom and patience as move into a wilderness time where we are clearly seeking direction, and God’s blessing.
Sunday, 8 January 2012
The Light of the World
Epiphany 2012
Often the story of the three wise men gets mixed in with the rest of the Christmas story, as if the wise men showed up at the stable in Bethlehem shortly after the shepherds departed, just as in our Sunday School Christmas pageants in days past.
And of course there’s the old joke that answers the question--what if the wise men were wise women?
If there had been three wise women...
They would have asked for directions
They would have been on time
They would have assisted with the birth
They would have cleaned the stable
They would have brought more practical gifts and held a potluck!
As we mark Epiphany today we celebrate both a feast day and a season in the church year, which is an important part of the larger narrative, and not just a colourful footnote to the story of the birth of Jesus.
What Matthew was drawing on when he told this story is prophetic tradition of the Hebrew Scripture, as we heard this morning in the passage from Isaiah.
Isaiah says nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your dawn, and he mentions two of the three gifts that will come from the Magi from the east—gold and frankincense.
So we have a story that dramatizes the cosmic impact of the birth of Jesus Christ.
Matthew doesn’t say exactly when the Magi arrive. Our best guess is that Jesus was still an infant under two years old when they approached Herod, and then found the child in Bethlehem with his parents and brought their gifts.
Not only are the gifts symbols, but the Magi themselves are symbols. The church has celebrated the season of the Epiphany as Jesus Christ manifested to the gentiles, for the first time.
We see the story of the nativity of Jesus becoming a turning point, not only for the people of Israel, but for the whole world.
The story of the Magi or Wise Men is somewhat sketchy on details. The church in the west has established three as the number, based on the gifts, and even given the wise men names. But that isn’t in Matthew. The Orthodox church believes there were actually 12 wise men.
The idea that the wise men who visited were three in number comes from the travels of Marco Polo, a diary dictated by the explorer while imprisoned in the 12th century in Genoa.
Marco Polo visited the tombs of three Persian kings in his travels. The story told to him by locals was that these three kings travelled to Judea with three gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh to determine if Jesus was a king, god or healer. If he accepted the gold, he was a king, the frankincense, a god and the myrrh, a healer. According to the story told to
Marco, the baby Jesus accepted all three.
Part of the symbolism in the story that has become part of our Epiphany celebration has been the idea that they were kings…so that the kings from the east come to bring tribute to Christ, the new born King.
However, because of the star being charted, they could also have been astrologers.
Another character in the story is definitely historical. Herod was Rome’s puppet ruler. He was a murderous and jealous man who killed his own family members to retain power.
The response to the wise men is not surprising. Herod’s scheming, and jealousy prompt him to order the execution of male babies under two, and Joseph, warned in a dream takes the Holy family to Egypt.
The gifts the Magi bring—gold for a king, frankincense for worship, and myrrh, a burial spice—foreshadowing the death of Jesus.
So we have a story full of symbolism which can be taken on many levels.
But at the centre is that Jesus was born, not just for the Jewish people in one small corner of the Roman Empire, but for all humanity, for all time.
The details aren’t as important as that central truth. And as we celebrate this season of Epiphany we have to think about our calling as Christians—to focus outward. To share the good news with others we meet.
That is one message of Epiphany.
Another is provided by the Wise Men, however many there were, and however they came to Jesus. These were learned men, who studied their own traditions, and the patterns of the stars in the skies, to learn that this cosmic event would happen.
They knew this was something remarkable. Something worth journeying to, a sign they could follow to confirm what they only supposed to be true.
They actually did ask for directions, contrary to the joke,
and they were wary of Herod when he tried to use them for his own purposes.
When their journey led to Jesus, they were full of gratitude and gave thanks for the chance to bring their gifts.
Perhaps the Wise Men also give us an example in Christian journey. First, they studied, then they discerned a new truth, which they wanted to test.
Then, in order to discover the reality of the new truth, they had to go on a journey, with all its pitfalls.
Our journey as followers of Christ is not easy. There are many ups and downs as we try to be faithful. In our own lives, in our families, in our communities and in the wider world we try to follow the teaching of Jesus.
We follow the light of Christ in this season of Epiphany, of new understanding, of new birth. The light shines in the darkness and it can not be extinguished.
Often the story of the three wise men gets mixed in with the rest of the Christmas story, as if the wise men showed up at the stable in Bethlehem shortly after the shepherds departed, just as in our Sunday School Christmas pageants in days past.
And of course there’s the old joke that answers the question--what if the wise men were wise women?
If there had been three wise women...
They would have asked for directions
They would have been on time
They would have assisted with the birth
They would have cleaned the stable
They would have brought more practical gifts and held a potluck!
As we mark Epiphany today we celebrate both a feast day and a season in the church year, which is an important part of the larger narrative, and not just a colourful footnote to the story of the birth of Jesus.
What Matthew was drawing on when he told this story is prophetic tradition of the Hebrew Scripture, as we heard this morning in the passage from Isaiah.
Isaiah says nations shall come to your light, and kings to the brightness of your dawn, and he mentions two of the three gifts that will come from the Magi from the east—gold and frankincense.
So we have a story that dramatizes the cosmic impact of the birth of Jesus Christ.
Matthew doesn’t say exactly when the Magi arrive. Our best guess is that Jesus was still an infant under two years old when they approached Herod, and then found the child in Bethlehem with his parents and brought their gifts.
Not only are the gifts symbols, but the Magi themselves are symbols. The church has celebrated the season of the Epiphany as Jesus Christ manifested to the gentiles, for the first time.
We see the story of the nativity of Jesus becoming a turning point, not only for the people of Israel, but for the whole world.
The story of the Magi or Wise Men is somewhat sketchy on details. The church in the west has established three as the number, based on the gifts, and even given the wise men names. But that isn’t in Matthew. The Orthodox church believes there were actually 12 wise men.
The idea that the wise men who visited were three in number comes from the travels of Marco Polo, a diary dictated by the explorer while imprisoned in the 12th century in Genoa.
Marco Polo visited the tombs of three Persian kings in his travels. The story told to him by locals was that these three kings travelled to Judea with three gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh to determine if Jesus was a king, god or healer. If he accepted the gold, he was a king, the frankincense, a god and the myrrh, a healer. According to the story told to
Marco, the baby Jesus accepted all three.
Part of the symbolism in the story that has become part of our Epiphany celebration has been the idea that they were kings…so that the kings from the east come to bring tribute to Christ, the new born King.
However, because of the star being charted, they could also have been astrologers.
Another character in the story is definitely historical. Herod was Rome’s puppet ruler. He was a murderous and jealous man who killed his own family members to retain power.
The response to the wise men is not surprising. Herod’s scheming, and jealousy prompt him to order the execution of male babies under two, and Joseph, warned in a dream takes the Holy family to Egypt.
The gifts the Magi bring—gold for a king, frankincense for worship, and myrrh, a burial spice—foreshadowing the death of Jesus.
So we have a story full of symbolism which can be taken on many levels.
But at the centre is that Jesus was born, not just for the Jewish people in one small corner of the Roman Empire, but for all humanity, for all time.
The details aren’t as important as that central truth. And as we celebrate this season of Epiphany we have to think about our calling as Christians—to focus outward. To share the good news with others we meet.
That is one message of Epiphany.
Another is provided by the Wise Men, however many there were, and however they came to Jesus. These were learned men, who studied their own traditions, and the patterns of the stars in the skies, to learn that this cosmic event would happen.
They knew this was something remarkable. Something worth journeying to, a sign they could follow to confirm what they only supposed to be true.
They actually did ask for directions, contrary to the joke,
and they were wary of Herod when he tried to use them for his own purposes.
When their journey led to Jesus, they were full of gratitude and gave thanks for the chance to bring their gifts.
Perhaps the Wise Men also give us an example in Christian journey. First, they studied, then they discerned a new truth, which they wanted to test.
Then, in order to discover the reality of the new truth, they had to go on a journey, with all its pitfalls.
Our journey as followers of Christ is not easy. There are many ups and downs as we try to be faithful. In our own lives, in our families, in our communities and in the wider world we try to follow the teaching of Jesus.
We follow the light of Christ in this season of Epiphany, of new understanding, of new birth. The light shines in the darkness and it can not be extinguished.
Monday, 2 January 2012
What's in a name?
Homily Naming of Jesus 2012
What’s in a name? The biblical answer to that question is everything.
Names were so important to the Hebrew people that they would not even speak the name of God—it was so sacred.
Today we celebrate the naming of Jesus, mentioned only in Luke’s Gospel.
The name Jesus is rooted in the Hebrew name Joshua. That’s important because it was Joshua who took over leadership of the people of Israel from Moses after they wandered in the wilderness for 40 years, and finally led them to the promised land.
Jesus would have been known as Jesus bar Joseph, or Jesus of Nazareth—to indicate either family or place ties. The word Christ is actually a title—like Messiah, Lord, King.
One of the reasons Luke mentions the naming of Jesus is the emphasis on continuity between the Hebrew tradition of the Torah and other sacred texts of the Hebrew Scriptures and the life and witness of Jesus which is the focus of Luke’s Gospel.
So like any good Jewish infant, Jesus is named eight days after he is born, and he is circ umcised. His mother Mary also follows Hebrew customs of purification for mothers who have just given birth.
The one difference of course is that the name Jesus is given by the Angel before Jesus was conceived by the Holy Spirit.
So the birth and naming of Jesus fulfilled divine revelation in the Hebrew scripture. Luke also wanted to emphasize that the law handed down to Moses was being followed.
We are reminded of the Jewishness of Jesus. We have to remember during most of the first century there was no separate Christian church. The followers of Jesus were a sect within Judaism. Jesus asked his followers to preach the good news to all the world. He didn’t specifically call for the formation of the church.
This Sunday as we remember the naming of Jesus, perhaps we need to think more about the Jewish roots of Christian faith, and honour that part of our tradition.
Sadly throughout history many Christians have been guilty of anti-Semitism---mis-reading John’s Gospel and viewing Jews in an extremely negative light.
As we learn more an more about ancient history from archeological finds, we can reach a much better understanding of where our faith tradition came from.
The other part of this day which marks the naming of Jesus is the celebration of Mary’s role in the birth of Christ. Mary’s courage, her wisdom, and her obedience is celebrated in Luke’s telling of the birth story.
While we may not elevate Mary to the role the orthodox have for her—Theotokos or God bearer, or follow the pietism of the Roman catholic Church in its Marian tradition, we can recognize that in Mary we have young woman who was chosen by God for a very special special role of mother of Jesus.
In that sense we need to celebrate Mary as the first saint of what would later become the company of saints of the church. Another name to be revered in our rich Judeo-Christian faith tradition.
What’s in a name? The biblical answer to that question is everything.
Names were so important to the Hebrew people that they would not even speak the name of God—it was so sacred.
Today we celebrate the naming of Jesus, mentioned only in Luke’s Gospel.
The name Jesus is rooted in the Hebrew name Joshua. That’s important because it was Joshua who took over leadership of the people of Israel from Moses after they wandered in the wilderness for 40 years, and finally led them to the promised land.
Jesus would have been known as Jesus bar Joseph, or Jesus of Nazareth—to indicate either family or place ties. The word Christ is actually a title—like Messiah, Lord, King.
One of the reasons Luke mentions the naming of Jesus is the emphasis on continuity between the Hebrew tradition of the Torah and other sacred texts of the Hebrew Scriptures and the life and witness of Jesus which is the focus of Luke’s Gospel.
So like any good Jewish infant, Jesus is named eight days after he is born, and he is circ umcised. His mother Mary also follows Hebrew customs of purification for mothers who have just given birth.
The one difference of course is that the name Jesus is given by the Angel before Jesus was conceived by the Holy Spirit.
So the birth and naming of Jesus fulfilled divine revelation in the Hebrew scripture. Luke also wanted to emphasize that the law handed down to Moses was being followed.
We are reminded of the Jewishness of Jesus. We have to remember during most of the first century there was no separate Christian church. The followers of Jesus were a sect within Judaism. Jesus asked his followers to preach the good news to all the world. He didn’t specifically call for the formation of the church.
This Sunday as we remember the naming of Jesus, perhaps we need to think more about the Jewish roots of Christian faith, and honour that part of our tradition.
Sadly throughout history many Christians have been guilty of anti-Semitism---mis-reading John’s Gospel and viewing Jews in an extremely negative light.
As we learn more an more about ancient history from archeological finds, we can reach a much better understanding of where our faith tradition came from.
The other part of this day which marks the naming of Jesus is the celebration of Mary’s role in the birth of Christ. Mary’s courage, her wisdom, and her obedience is celebrated in Luke’s telling of the birth story.
While we may not elevate Mary to the role the orthodox have for her—Theotokos or God bearer, or follow the pietism of the Roman catholic Church in its Marian tradition, we can recognize that in Mary we have young woman who was chosen by God for a very special special role of mother of Jesus.
In that sense we need to celebrate Mary as the first saint of what would later become the company of saints of the church. Another name to be revered in our rich Judeo-Christian faith tradition.
Sunday, 25 December 2011
In the Beginning was the Word
Homily Christmas Day Proper 3
When the Bishops of the church meeting together in the fourth century had to choose the Canon of scripture, that is the books that they judged were worthy of being sacred texts, inspired by God, they settled on four Gospels—all different accounts of the life and teaching of Jesus Christ.
Today’s Gospel is John’s alternative to the birth narratives in Matthew and Luke, and the absence of a birth narrative in Mark, which begins the life of Jesus with his baptism by John.
Instead of story, John uses poetry in what is often called the prologue to his Gospel.
Since John is writing to a persecuted Jewish Christian community which has been expelled from the synagogue, this prologue is an attempt to clearly establish Jesus as the Son of God, who has existed since the beginning of time as part of the Godhead.
The word, or logos, was with God from the beginning of time-the creation. The word is the light in the darkness.
John comes as a witness to the light, to testify to the light. And then Jesus, the word, becomes flesh, and dwells among us.
Yet as John’s community found, Jesus the word, was not accepted by his own people.
So John’s Gospel provides a theological view of the incarnation, the birth of Christ, the word made flesh.
While there is no birth story as such, it seems to me we need to think in larger terms about the birth of Christ, and its place in history.
Paul’s Letter to the Hebrew does this too. He reminds his readers that God has spoken through his prophets in many ways, but with Jesus, God has spoken in a new way—with an heir “of all things.”
Paul says Jesus is "the reflection of God’s glory and the exact imprint of God’s very being, and he sustains all things by his powerful word.”
This reminder to a Jewish Christian readership emphasizes the continuity between the Hebrew scriptures, and the stories which would later become the Gospels and the rest of the New Testament.
We always have to remember when Paul was writing, there was no New Testament, and Jews and Jewish Christians alike would only have had the Hebrew Scriptures and the oral tradition of stories about Jesus.
So as we celebrate the birth of Christ today, it’s helpful to add to the wonderful story of a babe in manger, the more cosmic story of John.
"In the beginning was the word, and the word was with God, and the word was God."
And the conclusion of this stirring passage—“And the word became flesh and lived among us and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.”
In a broken world, that glory, that grace and truth, reminds us of God’s gift to us—a gift that keeps giving, and kept be taken away. Thanks be to God.
When the Bishops of the church meeting together in the fourth century had to choose the Canon of scripture, that is the books that they judged were worthy of being sacred texts, inspired by God, they settled on four Gospels—all different accounts of the life and teaching of Jesus Christ.
Today’s Gospel is John’s alternative to the birth narratives in Matthew and Luke, and the absence of a birth narrative in Mark, which begins the life of Jesus with his baptism by John.
Instead of story, John uses poetry in what is often called the prologue to his Gospel.
Since John is writing to a persecuted Jewish Christian community which has been expelled from the synagogue, this prologue is an attempt to clearly establish Jesus as the Son of God, who has existed since the beginning of time as part of the Godhead.
The word, or logos, was with God from the beginning of time-the creation. The word is the light in the darkness.
John comes as a witness to the light, to testify to the light. And then Jesus, the word, becomes flesh, and dwells among us.
Yet as John’s community found, Jesus the word, was not accepted by his own people.
So John’s Gospel provides a theological view of the incarnation, the birth of Christ, the word made flesh.
While there is no birth story as such, it seems to me we need to think in larger terms about the birth of Christ, and its place in history.
Paul’s Letter to the Hebrew does this too. He reminds his readers that God has spoken through his prophets in many ways, but with Jesus, God has spoken in a new way—with an heir “of all things.”
Paul says Jesus is "the reflection of God’s glory and the exact imprint of God’s very being, and he sustains all things by his powerful word.”
This reminder to a Jewish Christian readership emphasizes the continuity between the Hebrew scriptures, and the stories which would later become the Gospels and the rest of the New Testament.
We always have to remember when Paul was writing, there was no New Testament, and Jews and Jewish Christians alike would only have had the Hebrew Scriptures and the oral tradition of stories about Jesus.
So as we celebrate the birth of Christ today, it’s helpful to add to the wonderful story of a babe in manger, the more cosmic story of John.
"In the beginning was the word, and the word was with God, and the word was God."
And the conclusion of this stirring passage—“And the word became flesh and lived among us and we have seen his glory, the glory as of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.”
In a broken world, that glory, that grace and truth, reminds us of God’s gift to us—a gift that keeps giving, and kept be taken away. Thanks be to God.
The Messiness of the Birth of Christ
Christmas Eve Homily 2011, Proper 1
There is a tendency to romanticize the story of the birth of Jesus found in Luke’s Gospel. We think of Christmas card images…shepherds in handsome robes, gathered around a fire…a sky full of stars, one of which is immense and hangs over Bethlehem…a baby in a manger with fresh hay in the stable and a pastoral scene of animals quietly grazing.
But we have to remember those images present a somewhat unrealistic idea of what actually happened that first Christmas eve.
One key to the story is that it happens at night, a time of fear, a time of danger.
The shepherds lived under Roman occupation, as did Joseph and Mary.
And historians tell us shepherds, who were the first witnesses of Jesus birth were outcasts from society, looked down on, poor…just the kind of people Jesus talks about reaching out to in his ministry three decades later.
The angels, messengers of God, don’t appear to rabbis, or landowners, or even shop owners, they appear to lowly shepherds, and it’s no surprise the shepherds are fearful.
So the angels first words are “Be not afraid.”
And those words are still at the heart of the Christian Gospel, the Gospel of Christ, more than two thousand years later.
Around our world we see danger and fear—of many things—from natural disasters, to climate change, to war, to persecution, to homelessness and starvation.
Yet the message of Christmas, the message of Jesus is that God is with us, bringing light into the darkness.
Our brothers and sisters in Christchurch, New Zealand are celebrating Christmas with outdoor services, reports Bishop Victoria Matthews.
An earthquake, the latest of many, hit Christchurch on Dec. 23. It was not as damaging as the earthquake that destroyed much of the city’s downtown earlier this year, but it has renewed fears of ongoing quakes which threaten efforts at reconstruction.
The Bishop writes the outdoor services aren’t about: “buildings falling down but about having large numbers of people from the very young to the elderly in close quarters in the event of another tremor. Outdoors, away from buildings will allow for community, but not crowding. I know it isn’t what most expected, but that first Christmas was very messy also, and there was a life saving outcome from that extraordinary gathering.”
The first Christmas was very messy, and dark, and dangerous. It wasn’t like a Hallmark Christmas card.
Herod feared the birth of Jesus, and Matthew tells us the story of the Holy family fleeing to Egypt to avoid persecution. So they were refugees.
And as New Zealand Christians gather for the torchlight (they call flashlights torches) services, they will undoubtedly be very conscious of the darkness and danger of the first Christmas eve.
It is worth considering that the birth of Jesus was announced only to his immediately family, to John the Baptist and his family and to the Shepherds and the wise men.
Otherwise, the birth is unheralded. The religious leaders, and wealthy people who held authority in Israel were not told.
The birth of Jesus, came not in a palace, but in a rough stable. Jesus was born to ordinary parents, not of noble birth.
What are we to draw from this simple yet powerful story of Christ’s birth in such an unexpected way, in such an out of the way place.
Perhaps it is that power and wealth aren’t what really count. It is what is in our hearts that matters. The good news the angels announce is the beginning of what would become a call to repentance, a call to hope and a call to a new way of life in harmony with God and other human beings.
We, as Christians, are called to live in community, to model the life of Christ, to live in peace and justice and to love each other.
As the prayer book service says, quoting scripture: “This is the first and great commandment, that thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and all thy soul and all thy strength. This is the first and great commendment. The second is like unto it. Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.”
Living that out is far from easy. One term, that has been used to describe our western society in recent years, is “affluenza.”
We get so caught up in materialism, in shopping in consuming ever more that we lose our compass. We don’t care for others as we should. We allow too many riches to be concentrated in too few hands while others struggle without jobs, food, proper shelter, or hope.
Christ was born in poverty, and throughout his ministry he lived as an itinerant preacher, teacher and healer, with few possessions but the clothes on his back.
He reminds us that it isn’t ultimately what you have in riches which matters, but the spirit in our hearts and minds.
When I think of Christmas stories outside the Bible, I often come back to the Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens.
Ebenezer Scrooge learns through his encounter with spirits of Christmas past, present and future, that accumulating wealth does not bring happiness. Instead, it can bring loneliness and despair.
We, like Scrooge, can find new enjoyment of life if we seek opportunities to help others, build relationships and seek to live out our Christian faith.
Hope, grounded in faith is what sustains us as Christian people in this broken world. Jesus is the light of the world, a light no darkness can extinguish.
There is a tendency to romanticize the story of the birth of Jesus found in Luke’s Gospel. We think of Christmas card images…shepherds in handsome robes, gathered around a fire…a sky full of stars, one of which is immense and hangs over Bethlehem…a baby in a manger with fresh hay in the stable and a pastoral scene of animals quietly grazing.
But we have to remember those images present a somewhat unrealistic idea of what actually happened that first Christmas eve.
One key to the story is that it happens at night, a time of fear, a time of danger.
The shepherds lived under Roman occupation, as did Joseph and Mary.
And historians tell us shepherds, who were the first witnesses of Jesus birth were outcasts from society, looked down on, poor…just the kind of people Jesus talks about reaching out to in his ministry three decades later.
The angels, messengers of God, don’t appear to rabbis, or landowners, or even shop owners, they appear to lowly shepherds, and it’s no surprise the shepherds are fearful.
So the angels first words are “Be not afraid.”
And those words are still at the heart of the Christian Gospel, the Gospel of Christ, more than two thousand years later.
Around our world we see danger and fear—of many things—from natural disasters, to climate change, to war, to persecution, to homelessness and starvation.
Yet the message of Christmas, the message of Jesus is that God is with us, bringing light into the darkness.
Our brothers and sisters in Christchurch, New Zealand are celebrating Christmas with outdoor services, reports Bishop Victoria Matthews.
An earthquake, the latest of many, hit Christchurch on Dec. 23. It was not as damaging as the earthquake that destroyed much of the city’s downtown earlier this year, but it has renewed fears of ongoing quakes which threaten efforts at reconstruction.
The Bishop writes the outdoor services aren’t about: “buildings falling down but about having large numbers of people from the very young to the elderly in close quarters in the event of another tremor. Outdoors, away from buildings will allow for community, but not crowding. I know it isn’t what most expected, but that first Christmas was very messy also, and there was a life saving outcome from that extraordinary gathering.”
The first Christmas was very messy, and dark, and dangerous. It wasn’t like a Hallmark Christmas card.
Herod feared the birth of Jesus, and Matthew tells us the story of the Holy family fleeing to Egypt to avoid persecution. So they were refugees.
And as New Zealand Christians gather for the torchlight (they call flashlights torches) services, they will undoubtedly be very conscious of the darkness and danger of the first Christmas eve.
It is worth considering that the birth of Jesus was announced only to his immediately family, to John the Baptist and his family and to the Shepherds and the wise men.
Otherwise, the birth is unheralded. The religious leaders, and wealthy people who held authority in Israel were not told.
The birth of Jesus, came not in a palace, but in a rough stable. Jesus was born to ordinary parents, not of noble birth.
What are we to draw from this simple yet powerful story of Christ’s birth in such an unexpected way, in such an out of the way place.
Perhaps it is that power and wealth aren’t what really count. It is what is in our hearts that matters. The good news the angels announce is the beginning of what would become a call to repentance, a call to hope and a call to a new way of life in harmony with God and other human beings.
We, as Christians, are called to live in community, to model the life of Christ, to live in peace and justice and to love each other.
As the prayer book service says, quoting scripture: “This is the first and great commandment, that thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy heart, and all thy soul and all thy strength. This is the first and great commendment. The second is like unto it. Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself.”
Living that out is far from easy. One term, that has been used to describe our western society in recent years, is “affluenza.”
We get so caught up in materialism, in shopping in consuming ever more that we lose our compass. We don’t care for others as we should. We allow too many riches to be concentrated in too few hands while others struggle without jobs, food, proper shelter, or hope.
Christ was born in poverty, and throughout his ministry he lived as an itinerant preacher, teacher and healer, with few possessions but the clothes on his back.
He reminds us that it isn’t ultimately what you have in riches which matters, but the spirit in our hearts and minds.
When I think of Christmas stories outside the Bible, I often come back to the Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens.
Ebenezer Scrooge learns through his encounter with spirits of Christmas past, present and future, that accumulating wealth does not bring happiness. Instead, it can bring loneliness and despair.
We, like Scrooge, can find new enjoyment of life if we seek opportunities to help others, build relationships and seek to live out our Christian faith.
Hope, grounded in faith is what sustains us as Christian people in this broken world. Jesus is the light of the world, a light no darkness can extinguish.
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