Today, January 6, is the traditional date of Epiphany - the twelfth day of Christmas. In the United States, we transfer the liturgical celebration of Epiphany to the nearest Sunday, but today still has a special significance. One of the many traditions associated with Epiphany is the proclamation of the date of Easter and all other moveable feasts for the coming year. This tradition is a holdover from the days before computers and calendars, but it is still a nice tradition. The Epiphany Proclamation below as read after communion at all of our parish Masses this past weekend.
2009 Epiphany Proclamation
Dear brothers and sisters, the glory of the Lord has shone upon us,
and shall ever be manifest among us, until the day of his return.
Through the rhythms of times and seasons
let us celebrate the mysteries of salvation.
Let us recall the year’s culmination, the Easter Triduum of the Lord:
his last supper, his crucifixion, his burial, and his rising celebrated
between the evening of the 9th of April.
and the evening of the 12th of April.
Each Easter— as on each Sunday—
the Holy Church makes present the great and saving deed
by which Christ has for ever conquered sin and death.
From Easter are reckoned all the days we keep holy.
Ash Wednesday, the beginning of Lent, will occur on the 25th of February.
The Ascension of the Lord will be commemorated on the 24th of May.
Pentecost, the joyful conclusion of the season of Easter,
will be celebrated on the 31st of May.
And this year the First Sunday of Advent will be on the 29th of November.
Likewise the pilgrim Church proclaims the Passover of Christ
in the feasts of the Holy Mother of God, in the feasts of the Apostles and Saints,
and in the commemoration of the faithful departed.
To Jesus Christ, who was, who is, and who is to come,
Lord of time and history,
be endless praise, for ever and ever.
Amen.
Tuesday, January 6, 2009
Sunday, January 4, 2009
The Wisest of the Wise
Homily for The Epiphany of the Lord, Year B
Isaiah 60.1-6 Psalm 72 Ephesians 3.2-3a, 5-6 Matthew 2.1-12
They are called kings, sometimes, these strangers from the East who wander into the home of Mary and Joseph. But the gospel does not call them kings – it calls them magi – a word used most often for astronomers and philosophers, those who were renowned throughout the world as the wisest of the wise. These wise men, these magi, travel far from their homes to visit a child – a child whose birth had been foretold. But what made these men so wise? They certainly had a lot of knowledge – they knew the Jewish scriptures, even though they weren’t Jewish; and they knew how to observe the movements of the stars and the planets. But this knowledge did not make them wise – simply knowing facts is not the same as wisdom. The magi also seemed to have some kind of wealth – they were able to bring with them expensive gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. But, certainly, wealth does not make you wise. So if the wisdom of the magi does not come from knowledge or from wealth, what makes them so wise?
The picture that most of us have in our minds of the magi, the picture contained in most Nativity scenes, is deceiving. We usually picture the magi standing or kneeling in front of Jesus, offering their gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. But that’s not what the gospel tells us. The gospel tells us that the magi prostrated themselves in front of the child – they laid down flat on the floor in front of him – they didn’t stand, they didn’t bow, they didn’t even kneel. When you lie prostrate, you are completely vulnerable – you have no way of protecting yourself. When you lie prostrate, you are completely humble – you become the lowest of the low. The true wisdom of the magi is right there in their gesture before the King of Kings. The true wisdom of the magi is that, with all their great wealth and knowledge, they had the humility to admit that they are nothing in the presence of a little child, who they know to be God himself. The true wisdom of the magi is that they know that there is always someone else who is wiser than they are. The magi are the wisest of the wise because they can lay down their lives in front of a helpless child, who is the source of their wisdom. I wonder what we would do in the presence of that child?
Isaiah 60.1-6 Psalm 72 Ephesians 3.2-3a, 5-6 Matthew 2.1-12
They are called kings, sometimes, these strangers from the East who wander into the home of Mary and Joseph. But the gospel does not call them kings – it calls them magi – a word used most often for astronomers and philosophers, those who were renowned throughout the world as the wisest of the wise. These wise men, these magi, travel far from their homes to visit a child – a child whose birth had been foretold. But what made these men so wise? They certainly had a lot of knowledge – they knew the Jewish scriptures, even though they weren’t Jewish; and they knew how to observe the movements of the stars and the planets. But this knowledge did not make them wise – simply knowing facts is not the same as wisdom. The magi also seemed to have some kind of wealth – they were able to bring with them expensive gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. But, certainly, wealth does not make you wise. So if the wisdom of the magi does not come from knowledge or from wealth, what makes them so wise?
The picture that most of us have in our minds of the magi, the picture contained in most Nativity scenes, is deceiving. We usually picture the magi standing or kneeling in front of Jesus, offering their gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. But that’s not what the gospel tells us. The gospel tells us that the magi prostrated themselves in front of the child – they laid down flat on the floor in front of him – they didn’t stand, they didn’t bow, they didn’t even kneel. When you lie prostrate, you are completely vulnerable – you have no way of protecting yourself. When you lie prostrate, you are completely humble – you become the lowest of the low. The true wisdom of the magi is right there in their gesture before the King of Kings. The true wisdom of the magi is that, with all their great wealth and knowledge, they had the humility to admit that they are nothing in the presence of a little child, who they know to be God himself. The true wisdom of the magi is that they know that there is always someone else who is wiser than they are. The magi are the wisest of the wise because they can lay down their lives in front of a helpless child, who is the source of their wisdom. I wonder what we would do in the presence of that child?
Thursday, January 1, 2009
Mary in the Nativity Scene
Homily for Solemnity of Mary, the Mother of God
Numbers 6.22-27 Psalm 67 Galatians 4.4-7 Luke 2.16-21
If you have had a chance to take a good look at our church Nativity set this year, you may have noticed that there is a new figure. For each of the past two years, we have been able to add a new piece to this beautiful set. Last year, we added a woman named Rachel, who is carrying a basket of fruit. This year, we added a woman named Judith, who is carrying water jugs. Just about everyone who has seen and noticed these new figures has had the same response: “I don’t remember Rachel or Judith from the Christmas story; where did they come from?” Of course, you won’t find either of these two women mentioned in the stories of the birth of Jesus in the Bible. These particular figures are a creation of the company that makes these Nativity scenes. I like to think of them as coming along with the shepherds – the shepherds we do hear about in Scripture certainly must have had family or friends who may have accompanied them to the manger. Or, perhaps, they are among the other residents of Bethlehem who heard the shepherds’ news that the Messiah had been born. If nothing else, these extra figures are a reminder that the birth of Jesus was not an event just for the few people who are mentioned in the Bible as having been there. The birth of Jesus was meant for all humanity, and Rachel and Judith can remind us of that.
But there’s another side to the story of our parish Nativity scene. We could very easily take Rachel and Judith away from the scene – and it would still be complete. We could even take away the shepherd boy and his sheep, the donkey and the cow, the magi and their camel, and even the angel – and left with just Mary, Joseph, and Jesus, the scene would still be complete. The Holy Family is still the Holy Family, even without the animals, shepherds, and magi surrounding them. But we could go even further. If we take Joseph out of the scene, leaving only Jesus and Mary, his mother, the Christmas story could still be told. Because the heart of the Christmas story is not about those important but extra people, but about a child, the Son of God, born of a woman, born under the law, as Paul says to the Galatians.
But then we have to ask – can we take the next step. Can we go one step even further in reducing the Nativity scene and take away Mary, leaving only the child Jesus. On the one hand, of course we can – Christmas is about Jesus, the Son of God, born for us – and all our celebrations of Christmas focus on the person this child is. We could just have the infant Jesus, lying in a manger – and our Nativity scene would be complete. But, on the other hand, we would still be missing something. We do need Mary there, because we can’t ignore the fact that Jesus was born of Mary, that she is his mother. The child we worship is not God alone – he is also fully human, and we have to include Mary in the picture to remind us of her Son’s humanity. That’s why images of the Madonna and Child have been so popular throughout history – because by picturing Mary and Jesus, we can sum up everything we believe about the Word made flesh, God made man. And that’s what we celebrate today on this Feast of Mary, the Mother of God. Just like all the other figures in the Nativity scene, just like all Christians through the ages, Mary’s gaze is focused on the child in the manger – he alone is the reason for our celebration and the focus of our worship. But we can’t completely take Mary out of the picture, because her “yes,” her response to the angel’s message is an indispensable part of God’s plan. She is a loving mother, she is the perfect disciple – always leading people to her Son, the Son of God. And we can never take her out of the picture of Christmas.
Numbers 6.22-27 Psalm 67 Galatians 4.4-7 Luke 2.16-21
If you have had a chance to take a good look at our church Nativity set this year, you may have noticed that there is a new figure. For each of the past two years, we have been able to add a new piece to this beautiful set. Last year, we added a woman named Rachel, who is carrying a basket of fruit. This year, we added a woman named Judith, who is carrying water jugs. Just about everyone who has seen and noticed these new figures has had the same response: “I don’t remember Rachel or Judith from the Christmas story; where did they come from?” Of course, you won’t find either of these two women mentioned in the stories of the birth of Jesus in the Bible. These particular figures are a creation of the company that makes these Nativity scenes. I like to think of them as coming along with the shepherds – the shepherds we do hear about in Scripture certainly must have had family or friends who may have accompanied them to the manger. Or, perhaps, they are among the other residents of Bethlehem who heard the shepherds’ news that the Messiah had been born. If nothing else, these extra figures are a reminder that the birth of Jesus was not an event just for the few people who are mentioned in the Bible as having been there. The birth of Jesus was meant for all humanity, and Rachel and Judith can remind us of that.
But there’s another side to the story of our parish Nativity scene. We could very easily take Rachel and Judith away from the scene – and it would still be complete. We could even take away the shepherd boy and his sheep, the donkey and the cow, the magi and their camel, and even the angel – and left with just Mary, Joseph, and Jesus, the scene would still be complete. The Holy Family is still the Holy Family, even without the animals, shepherds, and magi surrounding them. But we could go even further. If we take Joseph out of the scene, leaving only Jesus and Mary, his mother, the Christmas story could still be told. Because the heart of the Christmas story is not about those important but extra people, but about a child, the Son of God, born of a woman, born under the law, as Paul says to the Galatians.
But then we have to ask – can we take the next step. Can we go one step even further in reducing the Nativity scene and take away Mary, leaving only the child Jesus. On the one hand, of course we can – Christmas is about Jesus, the Son of God, born for us – and all our celebrations of Christmas focus on the person this child is. We could just have the infant Jesus, lying in a manger – and our Nativity scene would be complete. But, on the other hand, we would still be missing something. We do need Mary there, because we can’t ignore the fact that Jesus was born of Mary, that she is his mother. The child we worship is not God alone – he is also fully human, and we have to include Mary in the picture to remind us of her Son’s humanity. That’s why images of the Madonna and Child have been so popular throughout history – because by picturing Mary and Jesus, we can sum up everything we believe about the Word made flesh, God made man. And that’s what we celebrate today on this Feast of Mary, the Mother of God. Just like all the other figures in the Nativity scene, just like all Christians through the ages, Mary’s gaze is focused on the child in the manger – he alone is the reason for our celebration and the focus of our worship. But we can’t completely take Mary out of the picture, because her “yes,” her response to the angel’s message is an indispensable part of God’s plan. She is a loving mother, she is the perfect disciple – always leading people to her Son, the Son of God. And we can never take her out of the picture of Christmas.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Holy Families
Homily for the Feast of the Holy Family, Year B
Genesis 15.1-6; 21.1-3 Psalm 105 Heb. 11.8, 11-12, 17-19 Luke 2.22-40
On this Feast of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I’d like to tell you the story of another family – a woman named Maria, a man named Luigi, and their four children. Maria Corsini was born in the mid-1880s in Florence, Italy. She was a military kid – her father was in the Italian army – and so they moved around quite a bit as Maria grew up. For a time, Maria attended a Catholic school, but her father had a disagreement with some of the nuns who ran the school, and so he withdrew Maria and sent her to a public school. She became a volunteer nurse with the Red Cross, eventually serving in both the First and Second World Wars, and she liked to write in her spare time on music and education. In 1905, Maria married Luigi Beltrame Quattrocchi. He was a lawyer, working for the Italian version of the IRS, and together they had four children. Their family life was always full – sports, vacations to the ocean, large gatherings with an extended family. Friends used to say that their house was particularly noisy at mealtimes. But this family never let their pastimes and busy-ness get in the way of their faith – Luigi, Maria, and their children attended mass daily; they prayed the rosary together every night; and they regularly participated in all-night vigils and weekend retreats. Their lives were in no way extraordinary – but they were full of life, full of faith, and full of love. Luigi died of a heart attack in 1951, and Maria died in 1965. Less than fifty years later, in 2001, Pope John Paul II beatified the couple – they are now Blesseds Luigi and Maria, one step away from sainthood. They made history as the first married couple in the life of the Church to be beatified together, and to be beatified primarily because they lived the best married life possible. Pope John Paul said in the homily at their beatification mass that Maria and Luigi “lived an ordinary life in an extraordinary way.” They became holy as husband and wife, as parents, as children of God living through the regular ups and downs of life.
Sometimes we can look at the life of the Holy Family – the family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph – or even the families of the saints as being too perfect or too out of reach for us and our families. It’s true, our own families will never completely be like the Holy Family. But there are some lessons we can learn from their life in Nazareth that can shape our lives today, lessons that all holy families have learned through the ages. We can learn the lesson of silence – there are few words and few stories of the Holy Family recorded in Scripture. The silence of the gospels on the life of the Holy Family reminds us that we, too, need to find time in our busy lives for recollection, study, prayer, and reading. It is in silence that we grow spiritually, intellectually, and emotionally. It is in silence that a family can learn how to communicate well. We can also learn the lesson of sorrow. Simeon told Mary that a sword would pierce her heart; even the perfect life of the Holy Family was not without pain and sorrow, all the way to Mary standing at the foot of her son’s cross. But from the right perspective, we can learn from our suffering and grow stronger because of it. And finally, we can learn the lesson of faith. Mary and Joseph took the child Jesus to the Temple because that was part of their religious tradition. We are all called to do everything we can to make our faith the point around which our entire family life rotates. When a family prays together – in the home as well as in the community of the Church – it is much easier to find the strength and wisdom to live a family life that is holy.
Of course, the reality is not the ideal. There are countless ways that our families are not like the Holy Family. We know all too well the pain of broken families, the challenges of single parents, the struggles of mistrust, infidelity, and heartache. But, with God’s grace and with conscious effort, we can make our families holy, no matter what the family looks like. With a foundation in faith, we can live very ordinary lives in an extraordinary way.
Genesis 15.1-6; 21.1-3 Psalm 105 Heb. 11.8, 11-12, 17-19 Luke 2.22-40
On this Feast of the Holy Family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I’d like to tell you the story of another family – a woman named Maria, a man named Luigi, and their four children. Maria Corsini was born in the mid-1880s in Florence, Italy. She was a military kid – her father was in the Italian army – and so they moved around quite a bit as Maria grew up. For a time, Maria attended a Catholic school, but her father had a disagreement with some of the nuns who ran the school, and so he withdrew Maria and sent her to a public school. She became a volunteer nurse with the Red Cross, eventually serving in both the First and Second World Wars, and she liked to write in her spare time on music and education. In 1905, Maria married Luigi Beltrame Quattrocchi. He was a lawyer, working for the Italian version of the IRS, and together they had four children. Their family life was always full – sports, vacations to the ocean, large gatherings with an extended family. Friends used to say that their house was particularly noisy at mealtimes. But this family never let their pastimes and busy-ness get in the way of their faith – Luigi, Maria, and their children attended mass daily; they prayed the rosary together every night; and they regularly participated in all-night vigils and weekend retreats. Their lives were in no way extraordinary – but they were full of life, full of faith, and full of love. Luigi died of a heart attack in 1951, and Maria died in 1965. Less than fifty years later, in 2001, Pope John Paul II beatified the couple – they are now Blesseds Luigi and Maria, one step away from sainthood. They made history as the first married couple in the life of the Church to be beatified together, and to be beatified primarily because they lived the best married life possible. Pope John Paul said in the homily at their beatification mass that Maria and Luigi “lived an ordinary life in an extraordinary way.” They became holy as husband and wife, as parents, as children of God living through the regular ups and downs of life.
Sometimes we can look at the life of the Holy Family – the family of Jesus, Mary, and Joseph – or even the families of the saints as being too perfect or too out of reach for us and our families. It’s true, our own families will never completely be like the Holy Family. But there are some lessons we can learn from their life in Nazareth that can shape our lives today, lessons that all holy families have learned through the ages. We can learn the lesson of silence – there are few words and few stories of the Holy Family recorded in Scripture. The silence of the gospels on the life of the Holy Family reminds us that we, too, need to find time in our busy lives for recollection, study, prayer, and reading. It is in silence that we grow spiritually, intellectually, and emotionally. It is in silence that a family can learn how to communicate well. We can also learn the lesson of sorrow. Simeon told Mary that a sword would pierce her heart; even the perfect life of the Holy Family was not without pain and sorrow, all the way to Mary standing at the foot of her son’s cross. But from the right perspective, we can learn from our suffering and grow stronger because of it. And finally, we can learn the lesson of faith. Mary and Joseph took the child Jesus to the Temple because that was part of their religious tradition. We are all called to do everything we can to make our faith the point around which our entire family life rotates. When a family prays together – in the home as well as in the community of the Church – it is much easier to find the strength and wisdom to live a family life that is holy.
Of course, the reality is not the ideal. There are countless ways that our families are not like the Holy Family. We know all too well the pain of broken families, the challenges of single parents, the struggles of mistrust, infidelity, and heartache. But, with God’s grace and with conscious effort, we can make our families holy, no matter what the family looks like. With a foundation in faith, we can live very ordinary lives in an extraordinary way.
Friday, December 26, 2008
Earth Meets Heaven
Homily for Christmas Eve and Christmas Day, Year B
On Christmas Eve in 1943, a young German pastor named Dietrich Bonhoeffer found himself imprisoned in a Nazi concentration camp. About a week before Christmas, Bonhoeffer wrote a letter to his parents. This is what he wrote: “Of course, you can’t help thinking of my being in prison over Christmas, and it is bound to throw a shadow over the few hours of happiness which still await you in these times. All I can do to help is to assure you that I know you will keep it in the same spirit as I do, for we are agreed on how Christmas ought to be kept. … For a Christian there is nothing peculiarly difficult about Christmas in a prison cell. I daresay it will have more meaning and will be observed with greater sincerity here in this prison than in places where all that survives of the feast is its name. … That God should come down to the very place which men usually abhor, that Christ was born in a stable because there was no room for him in the inn – these are things which a prisoner can understand better than anyone else. For the prisoner, the Christmas story is glad tidings in a very real sense. … It will certainly be a quiet Christmas for everybody, and the children will look back on it for long afterwards. But for the first time, perhaps, many will learn the true meaning of Christmas.”
The true meaning of Christmas. Certainly, that is what we are all here to celebrate. It is a story we need to hear over and over again, because it never gets old, and it never loses its meaning. The story of Christmas tells of a child born this day who is much more than a child – he is God himself.
What child is this, who, laid to rest, on Mary’s lap is sleeping?
Whom angels greet with anthems sweet, while shepherds watch are keeping?
This, this is Christ the King, whom shepherds guard and angels sing;
Haste, haste to bring him laud, the babe, the son of Mary.
(William Dix, What Child Is This, verse 1)
What we celebrate this day is truly life-changing and world-changing. The birth of Christ marked the turning point in human history – it was the beginning of an earthly life that would end in an empty tomb that had once held the body of a crucified man. But this birth was meant for the whole human race, too. The birth of this child marked the beginning of the end of death – for us; the beginning of the end of sin – for us; the beginning of the end of selfishness, pride, and anxiety –for all of us. The promise of this day is nothing less than the promise of heaven – God became man not to live as a child, but to show us how to get to heaven, to teach us how to love God and neighbor here in this life with one eye always fixed on the life to come.
And our eyes at last shall see him, though his own redeeming love;
For that child so dear and gentle is our Lord in heav’n above:
And he leads his children on to the place where he has gone.
(Cecil Frances Alexander, Once in Royal David's City, verse 5)
And so what is the true meaning of Christmas? It’s the story of a child born in humble circumstances, born right in the midst of our poverty and suffering, born to live and die and rise from the dead in order to open for us the gates of heaven. On that holy night, earth and heaven were joined together – not just for a brief moment, but forever. And now, today, in whatever circumstance we find ourselves, we can still glimpse heaven; we can reflect the eternal in the love we show to God and in the love we show to those around us. Today, we can still glimpse heaven in the gifts we give, not to one another, but to the one who came to save us.
What can I give him, poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb:
If I were a wise man, I would do my part,
yet what can I give him – give my heart.
(Christina Rossetti, In the Bleak Midwinter, verse 4)
On Christmas Eve in 1943, a young German pastor named Dietrich Bonhoeffer found himself imprisoned in a Nazi concentration camp. About a week before Christmas, Bonhoeffer wrote a letter to his parents. This is what he wrote: “Of course, you can’t help thinking of my being in prison over Christmas, and it is bound to throw a shadow over the few hours of happiness which still await you in these times. All I can do to help is to assure you that I know you will keep it in the same spirit as I do, for we are agreed on how Christmas ought to be kept. … For a Christian there is nothing peculiarly difficult about Christmas in a prison cell. I daresay it will have more meaning and will be observed with greater sincerity here in this prison than in places where all that survives of the feast is its name. … That God should come down to the very place which men usually abhor, that Christ was born in a stable because there was no room for him in the inn – these are things which a prisoner can understand better than anyone else. For the prisoner, the Christmas story is glad tidings in a very real sense. … It will certainly be a quiet Christmas for everybody, and the children will look back on it for long afterwards. But for the first time, perhaps, many will learn the true meaning of Christmas.”
The true meaning of Christmas. Certainly, that is what we are all here to celebrate. It is a story we need to hear over and over again, because it never gets old, and it never loses its meaning. The story of Christmas tells of a child born this day who is much more than a child – he is God himself.
What child is this, who, laid to rest, on Mary’s lap is sleeping?
Whom angels greet with anthems sweet, while shepherds watch are keeping?
This, this is Christ the King, whom shepherds guard and angels sing;
Haste, haste to bring him laud, the babe, the son of Mary.
(William Dix, What Child Is This, verse 1)
What we celebrate this day is truly life-changing and world-changing. The birth of Christ marked the turning point in human history – it was the beginning of an earthly life that would end in an empty tomb that had once held the body of a crucified man. But this birth was meant for the whole human race, too. The birth of this child marked the beginning of the end of death – for us; the beginning of the end of sin – for us; the beginning of the end of selfishness, pride, and anxiety –for all of us. The promise of this day is nothing less than the promise of heaven – God became man not to live as a child, but to show us how to get to heaven, to teach us how to love God and neighbor here in this life with one eye always fixed on the life to come.
And our eyes at last shall see him, though his own redeeming love;
For that child so dear and gentle is our Lord in heav’n above:
And he leads his children on to the place where he has gone.
(Cecil Frances Alexander, Once in Royal David's City, verse 5)
And so what is the true meaning of Christmas? It’s the story of a child born in humble circumstances, born right in the midst of our poverty and suffering, born to live and die and rise from the dead in order to open for us the gates of heaven. On that holy night, earth and heaven were joined together – not just for a brief moment, but forever. And now, today, in whatever circumstance we find ourselves, we can still glimpse heaven; we can reflect the eternal in the love we show to God and in the love we show to those around us. Today, we can still glimpse heaven in the gifts we give, not to one another, but to the one who came to save us.
What can I give him, poor as I am?
If I were a shepherd, I would bring a lamb:
If I were a wise man, I would do my part,
yet what can I give him – give my heart.
(Christina Rossetti, In the Bleak Midwinter, verse 4)
Sunday, December 21, 2008
The Gift of Heaven
Homily for the Fourth Sunday of Advent, Year B
2 Sam. 7.1-5, 8b-12, 14a, 16 Psalm 89 Rom. 16.25-27 Luke 1.26-38
What do you want for Christmas? There are only a few days left, and I’m sure many of us have been thinking about this question for as long as the Christmas decorations have been out in the stores, or even longer. For kids of all ages, it seems like anything to do with the Nintendo Wii is right at the top of the list this year. For technology lovers, the iPhone is still hot, or the latest iPod – or maybe it’s a fancy new digital camera. Book lovers seem to be flocking to anything to do with the Twilight series, or perhaps the latest from the Harry Potter Franchise – The Tales of Beedle the Bard, or for the more serious minded, maybe a copy of The Last Lecture. But, of course, this year is a bit different than most years in recent memory. Not a few people in this country would simply like the promise of a good job this Christmas, or the stabilization of the financial markets. We want a bailout plan that works and a future that looks promising. And, of course, who wouldn’t throw in a wish for some real and lasting peace this Christmas, a peace that in many parts of the world - even in the land of Jesus’ birth - seems elusive. What do you want for Christmas?
Alas, come Thursday, most of us will find our wishes unfulfilled. Sure, we may get the latest Wii game or a new bestseller to read, we may get a restaurant gift card or some home-baked cookies. But the greater things in life – the things that would really make a difference in our daily living this Christmas – well, there’s not much time left for miracles. This Thursday will be a great diversion – it will be a chance to spend good, quality time with those we love, thankful for what we do have, grateful that Christmas comes every year, no matter what. We will sit with the poverty of our gift-giving, knowing that there is nothing that we could wrap and put under a tree that truly speaks of the depths of our love and gratitude for the people in our lives. But still, we wish there could be more. And, as Christians, we know that there can be.
For today, we sit with Mary, the young virgin of Nazareth, betrothed to a man named Joseph. Today, we sit with her as we hear the voice of an angel, announcing the impossible and heralding the coming of a gift that surpasses all others. He is the Prince of Peace, we are told – but he is much more than simply a peacemaker. He is descendant of David, but he is much more than any earthly king or ruler. Gabriel, the angel, tells us that this child is the “Son of the Most High,” and that he will rule over a kingdom that will never end. His name will be Jesus, which means the Lord saves, because he will lead us in the path to salvation, he will open for us the gates to eternity. The gift of this child is nothing less than the gift of God himself, living here among us and drawing us to him. The gift of Christmas is nothing less than the promise of heaven.
Does that change our Christmas plans? We will still gather with family and friends, we will still share the bounty of our lives around a table of good food, we will still exchange gifts as signs of our love. But because we’re Christian, because we take the message of God spoken through an angel seriously, all of that is secondary. The gift of Christmas, the promise of heaven, leads us here to pray. The gift of a little child calls us together as a people of faith to give thanks and praise, to worship as one Body of Christ, here in this place. The many gifts of our Christmas pale in comparison to the one gift that God offers. And when we come together to celebrate that gift, we really can glimpse the eternal; we can welcome a savior; we can celebrate the impossible – God made man.
2 Sam. 7.1-5, 8b-12, 14a, 16 Psalm 89 Rom. 16.25-27 Luke 1.26-38
What do you want for Christmas? There are only a few days left, and I’m sure many of us have been thinking about this question for as long as the Christmas decorations have been out in the stores, or even longer. For kids of all ages, it seems like anything to do with the Nintendo Wii is right at the top of the list this year. For technology lovers, the iPhone is still hot, or the latest iPod – or maybe it’s a fancy new digital camera. Book lovers seem to be flocking to anything to do with the Twilight series, or perhaps the latest from the Harry Potter Franchise – The Tales of Beedle the Bard, or for the more serious minded, maybe a copy of The Last Lecture. But, of course, this year is a bit different than most years in recent memory. Not a few people in this country would simply like the promise of a good job this Christmas, or the stabilization of the financial markets. We want a bailout plan that works and a future that looks promising. And, of course, who wouldn’t throw in a wish for some real and lasting peace this Christmas, a peace that in many parts of the world - even in the land of Jesus’ birth - seems elusive. What do you want for Christmas?
Alas, come Thursday, most of us will find our wishes unfulfilled. Sure, we may get the latest Wii game or a new bestseller to read, we may get a restaurant gift card or some home-baked cookies. But the greater things in life – the things that would really make a difference in our daily living this Christmas – well, there’s not much time left for miracles. This Thursday will be a great diversion – it will be a chance to spend good, quality time with those we love, thankful for what we do have, grateful that Christmas comes every year, no matter what. We will sit with the poverty of our gift-giving, knowing that there is nothing that we could wrap and put under a tree that truly speaks of the depths of our love and gratitude for the people in our lives. But still, we wish there could be more. And, as Christians, we know that there can be.
For today, we sit with Mary, the young virgin of Nazareth, betrothed to a man named Joseph. Today, we sit with her as we hear the voice of an angel, announcing the impossible and heralding the coming of a gift that surpasses all others. He is the Prince of Peace, we are told – but he is much more than simply a peacemaker. He is descendant of David, but he is much more than any earthly king or ruler. Gabriel, the angel, tells us that this child is the “Son of the Most High,” and that he will rule over a kingdom that will never end. His name will be Jesus, which means the Lord saves, because he will lead us in the path to salvation, he will open for us the gates to eternity. The gift of this child is nothing less than the gift of God himself, living here among us and drawing us to him. The gift of Christmas is nothing less than the promise of heaven.
Does that change our Christmas plans? We will still gather with family and friends, we will still share the bounty of our lives around a table of good food, we will still exchange gifts as signs of our love. But because we’re Christian, because we take the message of God spoken through an angel seriously, all of that is secondary. The gift of Christmas, the promise of heaven, leads us here to pray. The gift of a little child calls us together as a people of faith to give thanks and praise, to worship as one Body of Christ, here in this place. The many gifts of our Christmas pale in comparison to the one gift that God offers. And when we come together to celebrate that gift, we really can glimpse the eternal; we can welcome a savior; we can celebrate the impossible – God made man.
Sunday, December 14, 2008
He is almost here!
Homily for the Third Sunday of Advent, Year A
Isaiah 61.1-2a, 10-11 Luke 1 I Thess. 5.16-24 John 1.6-8, 19-28
I hate it when people get confused. Everything thinks that I’m the one – but they couldn’t be more wrong. He’s very close – getting closer by the day. But it’s not me. I am not the Christ. I am not the Prophet. And I am certainly not Elijah. My name is John. And I am just a voice, a voice crying out in the desert, a voice calling for people to get ready for him – my cousin – the man they call Jesus.
Maybe they’re confused because I’m baptizing people. It’s definitely a powerful thing to do, to plunge a believer into the waters for the forgiveness of sins. But just because I’m the one calling these people to the water, that doesn’t mean that I’m the one forgiving sins. Only God can do that – I certainly can’t. I am not God. But he is here, and he’s not too far away.
Or maybe they’re confused because I quote from the Scriptures a lot. It’s true, I know the Scriptures well. I know that Isaiah’s prophecies are ready to be fulfilled. But I didn’t write the Scriptures. Those holy writers weren’t inspired by me – they were inspired by God himself, by the Spirit of the Lord. I am not the Spirit, but he, too, is not far away.
Or maybe they’re just confused because they’re impatient – and I can certainly sympathize with that. We want to know everything right now – we want God to show himself to us right now. It’s so hard to wait. But it’s almost here – the root of Jesse has sprung forth and is ready to blossom, the day of the Lord is dawning even as we speak. Our patience will not be in vain – the Christ will come, without a doubt. Even I can hardly take the excitement and joy of the anticipation!
And so, in the meantime, what do we do? Do we just sit around and wait? Well, we could – but there is so much work to be done. We have to get ready for this great day that is coming. We have to pray without ceasing, giving thanks and praise to God in all things. We have to listen to and obey the Spirit of the Lord, the one who will give us the wisdom we need to recognize him when he comes. We have to read the prophets and spread the good news – that the day is almost here! Our salvation is at hand! The long-awaiting Messiah is in our midst, the mighty Lord who does great things for us! When the time comes, I am ready to step aside and let him take control of the world; I am ready for the attention to turn away from me and onto him. Because he is the light, he is our Lord, he is the Christ. And even though I am nothing in his presence, I know that his coming among us will make us all holy and blessed. No, I am not the Christ – but he is almost here!
Isaiah 61.1-2a, 10-11 Luke 1 I Thess. 5.16-24 John 1.6-8, 19-28
I hate it when people get confused. Everything thinks that I’m the one – but they couldn’t be more wrong. He’s very close – getting closer by the day. But it’s not me. I am not the Christ. I am not the Prophet. And I am certainly not Elijah. My name is John. And I am just a voice, a voice crying out in the desert, a voice calling for people to get ready for him – my cousin – the man they call Jesus.
Maybe they’re confused because I’m baptizing people. It’s definitely a powerful thing to do, to plunge a believer into the waters for the forgiveness of sins. But just because I’m the one calling these people to the water, that doesn’t mean that I’m the one forgiving sins. Only God can do that – I certainly can’t. I am not God. But he is here, and he’s not too far away.
Or maybe they’re confused because I quote from the Scriptures a lot. It’s true, I know the Scriptures well. I know that Isaiah’s prophecies are ready to be fulfilled. But I didn’t write the Scriptures. Those holy writers weren’t inspired by me – they were inspired by God himself, by the Spirit of the Lord. I am not the Spirit, but he, too, is not far away.
Or maybe they’re just confused because they’re impatient – and I can certainly sympathize with that. We want to know everything right now – we want God to show himself to us right now. It’s so hard to wait. But it’s almost here – the root of Jesse has sprung forth and is ready to blossom, the day of the Lord is dawning even as we speak. Our patience will not be in vain – the Christ will come, without a doubt. Even I can hardly take the excitement and joy of the anticipation!
And so, in the meantime, what do we do? Do we just sit around and wait? Well, we could – but there is so much work to be done. We have to get ready for this great day that is coming. We have to pray without ceasing, giving thanks and praise to God in all things. We have to listen to and obey the Spirit of the Lord, the one who will give us the wisdom we need to recognize him when he comes. We have to read the prophets and spread the good news – that the day is almost here! Our salvation is at hand! The long-awaiting Messiah is in our midst, the mighty Lord who does great things for us! When the time comes, I am ready to step aside and let him take control of the world; I am ready for the attention to turn away from me and onto him. Because he is the light, he is our Lord, he is the Christ. And even though I am nothing in his presence, I know that his coming among us will make us all holy and blessed. No, I am not the Christ – but he is almost here!
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