The Temple of Jesus’ day was the hub of the Jerusalem community. So much so that, far beyond the Temple’s provision for sacred worship, it had become a convenient and popular gathering place for many daily events. Jesus was incensed that the recognition of God’s presence had been obscured by these mundane and worldly activities, demonstrated by the peoples’ shuffling through and trampling down of this sacred space in pursuit of their misaligned priorities. No longer was the Temple a visible and constant reminder of God’s abiding presence. Rather, the Temple had become a marketplace.
I feel a sense of that deep sadness as I witness our awe-inspired church chancels littered with glaring lights, tangled cords, and numerous cameras and microphones; our altars obscured by the necessary stage equipment to produce weekly electronic worship. The appearance is that of a Hollywood movie set.
Yet, as sad as it might make us feel, the lights and cameras are not for our own personal glory; the cause is good; numerous faithful worshippers throughout the world have been able to stay connected through weekly virtual participation. When finally, the unsightly obstacles can be removed, when we are no longer shut out and we can move about with free access to the special places, and worship in person once again, the sanctity of these spaces will have fresh new meaning and attraction for each of us. We will lift our praise and thanksgiving with new fervor; we will have deeper reverence for these outward signs and traditions that draw us closer to God.
Perhaps like the people of Jerusalem, the world has needed to witness an angry Jesus. We’ve needed our self-seeking daily activities upturned. The Apostle Paul asks the question: “Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world?”
We’ve watched loved ones die from illness and isolation; we’ve experienced the frustrations of being shut out; our suffering in exile has made us hungry for God. Perhaps, now, we better understand the necessity of dying to our earthly selves and being raised anew with Jesus Christ – the true temple, the true gathering place of our faith, the true presence of God, unobscured by the world.
The Temple of Jesus’ day was the hub of the Jerusalem community. So much so that, far beyond the Temple’s provision for sacred worship, it had become a convenient and popular gathering place for many daily events. Jesus was incensed that the recognition of God’s presence had been obscured by these mundane and worldly activities, demonstrated by the peoples’ shuffling through and trampling down of this sacred space in pursuit of their misaligned priorities. No longer was the Temple a visible and constant reminder of God’s abiding presence. Rather, the Temple had become a marketplace.
I feel a sense of that deep sadness as I witness our awe-inspired church chancels littered with glaring lights, tangled cords, and numerous cameras and microphones; our altars obscured by the necessary stage equipment to produce weekly electronic worship. The appearance is that of a Hollywood movie set.
Yet, as sad as it might make us feel, the lights and cameras are not for our own personal glory; the cause is good; numerous faithful worshippers throughout the world have been able to stay connected through weekly virtual participation. When finally, the unsightly obstacles can be removed, when we are no longer shut out and we can move about with free access to the special places, and worship in person once again, the sanctity of these spaces will have fresh new meaning and attraction for each of us. We will lift our praise and thanksgiving with new fervor; we will have deeper reverence for these outward signs and traditions that draw us closer to God.
Perhaps like the people of Jerusalem, the world has needed to witness an angry Jesus. We’ve needed our self-seeking daily activities upturned. The Apostle Paul asks the question: “Has not God made foolish the wisdom of the world?”
We’ve watched loved ones die from illness and isolation; we’ve experienced the frustrations of being shut out; our suffering in exile has made us hungry for God. Perhaps, now, we better understand the necessity of dying to our earthly selves and being raised anew with Jesus Christ – the true temple, the true gathering place of our faith, the true presence of God, unobscured by the world.
Our visit to the Mount of Temptation last year at this time was on a day much like those we have had recently – wind-blown rain and piercing cold. There was no temptation for our group on this day to make the cable car journey to the top of the mountain. It would have been the worst of times to imagine being exiled in the wilderness and, heaven forbid, shadowed by the intense presence of the Devil as was Jesus in the days here following his baptism.
The Mount of Temptation towers above the town of Jericho in the Judean desert’s West Bank. It is an incredibly steep foreboding sight – rocky and barren. It makes you shiver even in nice weather. To be left alone in this place at the mercy of the elements, how could any of us resist the temptations of creature comforts offered by Satan, if only we would fall to our knees and give our souls to him?
We are told specifically that Jesus remained in this desolate foreboding place for 40 days, tempted by Satan and accompanied by wild beasts. Yet, angels were ever-present.
We begin our 40-day journey into and through the season of Lent with this foreboding image of the Mount of Temptation. And, as if a year-long pandemic is not enough to deplete our sunny dispositions and hopes for brighter days, it seems we are now faced with 40 days of 40-degree temperatures, endless rain, and cloudy skies. But, God sends his angels to be ever-present with us as well.
How appropriate that our lectionary for this first Sunday of Lent includes this account of Noah. With God’s help, Noah and his family had endured the flood – another familiar 40-day
sojourn in the wilderness. The Flood had destroyed the earth; all God’s creation had been wiped out with the exception of the remnant preserved in the ark that Noah and his sons had crafted under God’s direction. A remnant of all living creatures sequestered in the ark had sojourned along with Noah for the forty days of rain and flood. Together, this remnant of creation had persevered to begin again to repopulate the earth.
Never again would God destroy the earth by flood. As a sign of God’s covenant with all flesh of the earth, God set his bow in the clouds. And, as my grandmother used to say, it takes both sun and rain to make rainbows. As we look out onto our dreary rain-drenched surroundings, somewhere in the clouds there is a rainbow; God’s angels are tending us; God keeps his promises.
This past year of isolation has tested us. Week after week of Sunday worship in our pajamas has tempted us to forego return to Sunday morning gathered worship. The Devil grows bolder with his temptation as we spend more and more time physically separated from one another. We are tempted to dwell on our animosities as we are allowed less and less time for sharing in the bountiful goodness of our human relationships. The Devil is sneaky. We are not even aware of our movement toward the pinnacle of temptation. How easily we succumb to the selfish creature comforts that detract us from our call to mission and ministry. How quickly Lent passes without our attention to the disciplines of more intentional prayer and humble fasting and faithful almsgiving.
We are assaulted by many temptations. God knows the weaknesses of each of us. As never before, this season of Lent is a time to persevere as the remnant of God’s people who will revitalize our post-pandemic world. It is a time to seek out the angels who are ever-present with us in our wilderness as they were ever-present with Jesus in his wilderness. It is a time to look beyond the clouds to the ever-present rainbow that marks God’s covenant with all flesh of the earth. God is mighty to save.
“The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.” [Mark 1:15]
Our visit to the Mount of Temptation last year at this time was on a day much like those we have had recently – wind-blown rain and piercing cold. There was no temptation for our group on this day to make the cable car journey to the top of the mountain. It would have been the worst of times to imagine being exiled in the wilderness and, heaven forbid, shadowed by the intense presence of the Devil as was Jesus in the days here following his baptism.
The Mount of Temptation towers above the town of Jericho in the Judean desert’s West Bank. It is an incredibly steep foreboding sight – rocky and barren. It makes you shiver even in nice weather. To be left alone in this place at the mercy of the elements, how could any of us resist the temptations of creature comforts offered by Satan, if only we would fall to our knees and give our souls to him?
We are told specifically that Jesus remained in this desolate foreboding place for 40 days, tempted by Satan and accompanied by wild beasts. Yet, angels were ever-present.
We begin our 40-day journey into and through the season of Lent with this foreboding image of the Mount of Temptation. And, as if a year-long pandemic is not enough to deplete our sunny dispositions and hopes for brighter days, it seems we are now faced with 40 days of 40-degree temperatures, endless rain, and cloudy skies. But, God sends his angels to be ever-present with us as well.
How appropriate that our lectionary for this first Sunday of Lent includes this account of Noah. With God’s help, Noah and his family had endured the flood – another familiar 40-day sojourn in the wilderness. The Flood had destroyed the earth; all God’s creation had been wiped out with the exception of the remnant preserved in the ark that Noah and his sons had crafted under God’s direction. A remnant of all living creatures sequestered in the ark had sojourned along with Noah for the forty days of rain and flood. Together, this remnant of creation had persevered to begin again to repopulate the earth.
Never again would God destroy the earth by flood. As a sign of God’s covenant with all flesh of the earth, God set his bow in the clouds. And, as my grandmother used to say, it takes both sun and rain to make rainbows. As we look out onto our dreary rain-drenched surroundings, somewhere in the clouds there is a rainbow; God’s angels are tending us; God keeps his promises.
This past year of isolation has tested us. Week after week of Sunday worship in our pajamas has tempted us to forego return to Sunday morning gathered worship. The Devil grows bolder with his temptation as we spend more and more time physically separated from one another. We are tempted to dwell on our animosities as we are allowed less and less time for sharing in the bountiful goodness of our human relationships. The Devil is sneaky. We are not even aware of our movement toward the pinnacle of temptation. How easily we succumb to the selfish creature comforts that detract us from our call to mission and ministry. How quickly Lent passes without our attention to the disciplines of more intentional prayer and humble fasting and faithful almsgiving.
We are assaulted by many temptations. God knows the weaknesses of each of us. As never before, this season of Lent is a time to persevere as the remnant of God’s people who will revitalize our post-pandemic world. It is a time to seek out the angels who are ever-present with us in our wilderness as they were ever-present with Jesus in his wilderness. It is a time to look beyond the clouds to the ever-present rainbow that marks God’s covenant with all flesh of the earth. God is mighty to save.
“The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.” [Mark 1:15]
Jesus came to Galilee, proclaiming the good news of God, and saying, “The time is
fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.”
The Apostle Paul alerts his brothers and sisters in Corinth, “The appointed time has
grown short… the present form of this world is passing away.”
Time marches on. Sometimes, time is on our side. Other times, time is our enemy.
Time waits for no man. Yet, time heals wounds. The sundial reminds us, “Suns rise; time flies.”
So, how do we respond to Paul’s words, “the appointed time has grown short?” Do we
keep on sweeping the house and caring for loved ones? Or, do we leave all and go sit on a 3
mountaintop in hopes of being the first to be greeted by our returning Lord? What are we called
to do with this time that grows so short?
Paul believed that the Second Coming of Christ would occur very soon after the
Ascension, perhaps even in his lifetime. Some, within the churches that Paul had founded, had
become lazy in their ministry, so confident they were that Christ would return soon and their
daily accomplishments would be all for naught.
Whether we see the coming of Christ in our lifetime or we live a long full life, our time
on earth is not even a tiny pinprick on the timeline of eternity. What difference can we make?
Even so, God calls us to specific and meaningful ministry during our time on earth.
And, what would humanity be without time limits – if we were not aware that time is
fragile and far too short? We would take for granted those we love if we were not well aware
that the time is coming when we will be separated by death. What would the squirrels eat all
winter if they had not rushed so frantically to hide the acorns in the autumn months?
Time belongs to God; the world’s time is not to claim us as its own, we are God’s. We
are to be in the world, but not of the world. Our earthly livelihoods and relationships are in the
world, as we are to be in the world, but our obedience is to God; our time belongs to God; our
time is not for the purpose of the world.
Through our faith and our prayer life, we have some sense of right time – The time is
right to change jobs; the time is right to begin or end a relationship; the time is right even for
death. Through faith, we put our time in God’s hands.
From our Old Testament lesson, we learn that the time was right for Jonah to go to
Nineveh. We know and love the account of Jonah, called by God to proclaim the need for
repentance to the people of pagan Nineveh. It was a frightening call. Jonah tried to run from
God; Jonah tried to circumvent God’s time. But, Jonah was on God’s time and God intervened
drastically and persistently. God does the same when we try to circumvent his time.
The writer of Mark tells us that after John had been arrested, Jesus came from Galilee
proclaiming the will of God. We are told that at this point in time of the beginning of Jesus’
ministry, God’s time had been fulfilled; the kingdom had come near.
As Jesus called his first disciples, they dropped their nets and followed. There would be
others to fish the sea; the time was fulfilled for these ordinary men to fish for people. God’s time
was the right time for this cataclysmic world-transforming life and ministry of Jesus Christ to
come into the world. Jesus was in the world but not of the world. And still, we mark our time
before and after the birth of Christ.
Time is a great paradox. We can think obsessively of the time when the Lord will come
again to the point that we fritter away our time of call to mission on earth. We can grasp time
arrogantly and selfishly on our own terms, mistakenly assuming it is limitless. Or, we can place
our time on earth in God’s hands that our time might be fulfilled, that we might experience the
nearness of the Kingdom, that we might follow the call to discipleship.
The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near… Immediately [Jesus] called them; and they left their father Zebedee in the boat with the hired men, and followed him.
Feedback! Do you get impatient with incessant feedback? Is there someone in your life who has a negative or argumentative comment to everything you say??
Feedback permeates our society and shuts down our conversations – arguments, opinions, elitist political talking points, finger pointing, labeling, narrowly-focused mindsets – the steady din of crippling verbal assault on those from a “lesser place” so far beneath our own moral high-ground. Never-ending feedback, like being locked for hours in a room with a loud staticky radio. Sometimes we just want to cover our ears and scream to block out the banging clatter.
We thought the magic of 12:01 a.m. January 1, 2021 would bring glimmers of relief from the pandemic and the nasty political bloodbaths. Now, we find that that was just another day and the battles and the argumentative feedback continue.
Our ongoing requirement of physical distance and lack of social contact within the muck of our nasty political climate exacerbates our animosities. Not being able to exchange conversation as we look into each other’s eyes drives us further apart. Social media giants seek to control our thoughts. We are too easily crippled by our lack of the mystical experience of kneeling side by side at the Communion rail at the foot of the Cross. So, the divisive feedback grows louder.
Nathanael, in our Gospel account, is best known for his divisive feedback. “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?”
Isn’t it uplifting to observe these frailties among the original disciples of Jesus? Was Nathanael a social bigot? That’s a pretty narrow perspective from someone who was in the selection process for becoming one of Jesus’ closest followers.
Even Nathanael has bought into the class warfare. Yet, his companion Philip did not bow to the cynical feedback; Philip simply said, “Come and see.” And, Nathanael did just that.
Like the eager young Samuel of our Old Testament lesson, Nathanael stepped forth in faith. Living into God’s call means turning away from our narrow mind-sets and stepping forward into the unknown, stepping out with faith alone – faith that the voice that draws us even amidst the din of the deafening static is the powerful voice of God. Listen along with the young Samuel. Come and see along with Nathanael.
God leads us from the negativity-driven feedback that divides us into the calm of our common ground as people of God united in the mission of Jesus Christ.
The Episcopal Church is launching a new campaign on Martin Luther King’s birthday, which we observe tomorrow. Quoting from the website: “The campaign is a conversation called “From Many One: Conversations Across Difference.” The initiative comes from the Latin phrase E Pluribus Unum (from many, one) and hopes to teach, model and foster conversations with those who think differently from us.”
However formally or informally you might choose to participate in this campaign, I invite you to focus on the four vital questions that are highlighted as conversation starters particularly with those who we perceive as thinking so differently from us. Consider and share these four questions:
1. What do you love?
2. What have you lost?
3. Where does it hurt?
4. What do you dream?
Conversations focused on these four questions allow us to hear God’s unifying call to see Christ in one another – the greater good – from many, one.
Fortunately, as always, Jesus saw the good in Nathanael. Fortunately, Nathanael could not resist his friend’s gentle nudge to come and see. To see the good in one another requires opening our hearts, our ears, and our hands as well as our eyes.
Away from the negative clatter that divides us, through the mercy of Christ we find unity with one another in our loves, our losses, our hurts, and our dreams. Come and see.
Per our liturgical calendar, we celebrate the Baptism of our Lord each year on the Sunday following the Epiphany. Like most things Anglican, it makes sense chronologically to celebrate the baptism of our Lord just following the Epiphany – Epiphany being the day on which we acknowledge God’s disclosure of Jesus Christ as the Messiah. Christmas celebrates his birth; Epiphany, defined and symbolized by the arrival of the Magi, celebrates his acknowledgement as the Messiah for all people and by all the known world.
Now, the visible tangible work of salvation begins.
Only one passage from Luke’s Gospel reveals any of the details of Jesus’ boyhood – that being his teaching in the temple at the age of twelve, which was the account included in last week’s Gospel lesson. For the most part, we know nothing of Jesus’ activities between his birth and his baptism by John in the Jordan. Baptism, being the traditional rite of purification, was at this time a repeated ritual for faithful Jews seeking forgiveness and cleansing from their sins.
Mark tells us quite simply that Jesus, too, came to take his place among the penitent sinners to be baptized by John in the Jordan. It is on this day of Jesus’ baptism that his earthly mission and ministry begin.
Our mission, too, begins with our baptism into the Communion of the Body of Christ.
Baptism is a primary sacrament of the Church. A sacrament is defined as the outward and visible sign of inward and spiritual grace. For baptism, then, the outward and visible sign of the water and liturgical actions by us human participants acknowledge the inward and spiritual grace of God’s creative and salvific actions throughout our earthly lives. Our Catechism defines “The inward and spiritual grace in Baptism [as our] union with Christ in his death and resurrection, birth into God’s family the Church, forgiveness of sins, and new life in the Holy Spirit.” [p. 858]
All Christian faith traditions include Baptism. Baptism unites us as Christians; but our theology and practices associated with baptism often divide us as Christians. The primary issue that divides is the timing. Is there a sense of urgency to baptize as soon after our births as possible, or rather, is it necessary to wait to baptize at the assumed time of an individual’s mature profession of faith?
Battles have been fought over this distinction. And, so, we give careful thought to our theological determination of the essentials of the sacrament of baptism.
The Book of Common Prayer defines baptism as “full initiation by water and the Holy Spirit into Christ’s Body, the church. God establishes an indissoluble bond with each person in baptism.” Thus, through the presence of the Holy Spirit, we believe that this one baptism accomplishes all that God intends to be accomplished as we are established in this indissoluble bond of our one baptism. Regardless of our journey through different faith traditions, our one baptism marks us as Christ’s own forever. We are called regularly to confess our sins and reaffirm our baptismal covenant, but never to be rebaptized.
The Book of Common Prayer explains further, “God adopts us, making us members of the church and inheritors of the Kingdom of God (BCP, pp. 298, 858). In baptism we are made sharers in the new life of the Holy Spirit and the forgiveness of sins.” In closing, “Baptism is the foundation for all future church participation and ministry.”
In summary, we believe in one baptism that visibly binds us to God through the work of the Holy Spirit and solidifies our membership in the Body of Christ.
The Catechism notes: “Infants are baptized so that they can share citizenship in the Covenant, membership in Christ, and redemption by God.” As Anglicans, we believe that this outward visible sign of our citizenship within the church should take place as early and possible after our birth. The baptismal promises are made for infants by their parents or sponsors, “who guarantee that the infants will be brought up within the Church, to know Christ and be able to follow him” (BCP, pp. 858-859). All who witness our baptism make this vow to support us in our life in Christ. These are serious commitments that we make to one another.
As Jesus was baptized, so we are baptized – an experience of dying to our old selves and being raised again in our new life within the Body of Christ. As we are baptized, our mission and ministry in the life of the church begins and continues with ongoing renewal.
I invite you now to join me in the renewal of our Baptismal Covenant.
And Jesus increased in wisdom and in years, and in divine and human favor.
This passage from Luke’s Gospel brings us the only glimpse of Jesus’ early life. Jesus’ experiences during the thirty years that transpire between the birth and the beginning of his ministry at his baptism by John in the Jordan are, otherwise, a mystery.
Thus, we can only imagine Jesus’ youth, a young child playing street games with the neighboring children in Nazareth; his teenage years, taking on more adult responsibilities as he learned the craft of carpentry from his devoted earthly father; his early adult years, surely by then there were definite signs of his Messianic calling. Only this account from the latter part of Luke 2, addresses any portion of this 30-year hiatus of Jesus’ life story between birth and ministry that began at age 30.
In this account, the twelve-year-old Jesus has journeyed with his parents from Nazareth in Galilee to Jerusalem along with other families for the yearly Feast of the Passover, one of the three principal feasts for which traditional Jewish families aspired to make pilgrimage to Jerusalem. In mass, on their return trip, it was easy to assume that, like most willful 12-year-olds, Mary and Joseph’s preteen would prefer to travel in the company of anyone other than his parents. But, after a day or so had passed without finding Jesus among the group, Mary and Joseph determined it necessary to return to Jerusalem to search for their son.
Significantly, upon arrival in Jerusalem, three days passed before Mary found Jesus among the teachers in the temple. Luke expresses the amazement of the temple teachers toward Jesus’ outstanding capacity to understand the in-depth discussion of the tenets of the Jewish faith that would have been the subject matter of their teaching in the temple. Luke tells us, too, that Mary and Joseph were astonished at the sight of Jesus so deeply and competently engaged in this exchange with the most learned teachers of the Jewish faith.
Yet, Luke tells us that upon at last encountering her son, Mary’s emotions boil over a bit as would any mother so confused and worried for her son’s wellbeing. Mary expresses a mixture of relief and exasperation and anger to which Jesus’ response is calm and challenging. “Hey Mom, I’m twelve now; I’m now of age to be responsible to my religious heritage and the vows I take. Remember the words of the shepherds who brought the astonishing message of the angels to Bethlehem? Remember the Magi who travelled from the East alerted of my birth by the phenomenal star? Remember the prophecy of Simeon when I was presented in the temple 40 days after my birth? Do you not yet understand that it is necessary for me to be about my father’s affairs?
Luke tells us that once reunited, Jesus returned with his parents to Nazareth where it seems the life of this growing young man, reared in a traditional Jewish home was for all outward appearances quite ordinary. Yet, as Jesus grew, he increased in wisdom and in years, and in divine and human favor.
Even after all these signs, Mary and Joseph were astonished at this child’s confirmation that it was necessary that he be in his Father’s house fulfilling his Father’s calling. Luke tells us that Mary and Joseph did not yet understand, and that Mary “treasured all these things in her heart” as she had treasured the words of the shepherds at the time of Jesus’ birth.
We, too, are astonished at the magnificence of God’s plan. We, too, are astonished at the magnitude of God’s grace and mercy. We, too, are astonished at God’s love, so powerful and unconditional that he willingly came to earth in the human person of Jesus – this twelve-year-old of our Gospel account, to redeem our sinfulness and save us from evil and death. Even Mary found it beyond her understanding. We, too, find it beyond our understanding.
The twelve days of Christmas are passing once again. Now, we anticipate the Feast of the Epiphany, which will follow the 12th night of our season of Christmas. Each year is a fresh Epiphany. Each year during these days of Christmas we strive to grow our understanding of the Incarnation more deeply, treasuring the message of the Word made flesh as did Jesus’ mother Mary. Each year, to our great astonishment, time after time, Jesus is confirmed as the Messiah and our astonishment at this epiphany grows even more.
In closing let us hear again Paul’s prayer for the Ephesians and for us:
“I pray that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you a spirit of wisdom and revelation as you come to know him, so that, with the eyes of your heart enlightened, you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance among the saints, and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power for us who believe.
This fourth Sunday of Advent in Year B is the one Sunday of all of our three-year lectionary cycle that we focus specifically on Mary. Luke’s Gospel is the only one of the four Gospels that focuses on the conception and birth of Jesus through the eyes of Mary. Matthew, the only other Gospel that includes the story of the nativity, presents the story from Joseph’s perspective.
The Blessed Virgin Mary has inspired numerous works of art over the centuries; seldom is she depicted without the Christ Child in her arms. To stand before one of these many art renditions of Mary and to meditate deeply on the words of this morning’s Gospel, is to be entranced by Mary’s meek ordinariness and to be humbled profoundly by the power of her simple and single-minded reply: “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.”
To be young, unmarried, and not yet the bearer of children, Mary held little value in her Jewish culture. Imagine her astonishment at the visit of the Angel Gabriel. She is troubled and perplexed by his words that she would conceive and bear a son. How could this happen? What will the neighbors say?
But, as Mary struggles to take in this miraculous revelation she is assured that she is not to be afraid or confused and that she is not alone – “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you.” Upon her reply, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word,” the young virgin of so little value to her earthly culture, would become the mother of God – Theotokos – God bearer. The young virgin would be called upon by God to be the vehicle in the fulfillment of His promise to redeem the world. The sin that had separated all creation from God would be overcome. As the angel Gabriel had promised Mary that the Lord would be with her, so the Lord would come in human form to live among all creation, to overcome sin, to repair the breach in man’s relationship that separates us from God.
It is quite natural that we would appeal to Mary’s maternity to draw us closer into the presence of God. Shouldn’t it be natural for us to draw from Mary’s strength to look away from our fears and place our hand in the hand of God that is forever reaching out to us? Mary, as we know, puts away her fears and places her hand securely into the hand of God, becoming God’s vessel for the coming to earth in human form of the Son of God.
As 2020 draws to a close, we are well aware that history is marked by this year. Perhaps even, in future years, we will think of our past in terms of pre-COVID/post-COVID. Fortunately, after months of anguish over this unseen enemy, research has provided tools for our defense and response to the virus. This week the trucks have begun rolling to deliver the vaccine across the country.
Yet, untold discoveries are yet to be assessed. What will history reveal to us in terms of the impact of fear and the impact of physical separation? There are numerous charts and statistics to reveal the healthcare implications of the virus, but determining the accurate numbers of people of all ages and income levels whose emotional health has been devastated by the pandemic’s side effects of excruciating separations and insecurities is impossible to assess. Loneliness and anxiety have taken a seemingly insurmountable toll. We have come to a greater appreciation of relationships with one another and with God.
God is present in relationship. The greatest of our fears – our only inconsolable fear – is separation from God – to be alone in this broken world without the all-powerful hand of God in which to place our own.
Our helpless and lonely separation from God brings great fear. But, as God through Gabriel assured Mary of His continued presence with her, so he assures all creation of his continued presence. Through the angel Gabriel, God sends to Mary the command that is the most frequent of all commands in the Bible. It carries the assurance most difficult to accept and is the command most difficult for us to follow, “The Lord is with you…Do not be afraid.”
To a world broken by sin, God sent his Son to be present with us. As we read earlier from the praise-filled Magnificat: “He has come to the help of his servant Israel, for he has remembered his promise of mercy, the promise he made to our father, to Abraham and his children for ever”. And, from our Old Testament lesson from 2 Samuel, God is saying to King David: “I took you from the pasture, from following the sheep to be prince over my people Israel; and I have been with you wherever you went, and have cut off all your enemies from before you; and I will make for you a great name, like the name of the great ones of the earth.”
As God did for King David and Mary, so He reaches out His hand to us. As it was for Mary, we are free to place our hand into that all-powerful hand OR to turn away. To turn away is to separate ourselves from God, to be consumed by our fears and overwhelmed by our sins of commission and omission. Yet, God is always present reaching his hand to us.
Even in uncertain and fearful times of pandemic, separation from God is all we have to fear. God says, “Do not be afraid; I am with you.” Joining with the Blessed Virgin Mary, each of us replies, ““Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.”
He will feed his flock like a shepherd;
he will gather the lambs in his arms,
and carry them in his bosom,
and gently lead the mother sheep.
Isaiah 40:11
Isaiah speaks these words of hope and good news to God’s people, long in exile. Their homeland of Jerusalem had been ravaged, the Great Temple of Solomon looted and destroyed, and they had been forced into slavery for decades in foreign lands. Now, with restored faith, carried in God’s bosom, they would be gathered home where they could begin to rebuild their lives as faithful followers of God. They had suffered through the bad news; they were ready, now, to embrace the good news.
We, too, want to embrace this good news of being gathered and carried in God’s bosom.
Thus, centuries later, John the Baptist came preaching the dire need for repentance yet again. John the Baptist is our uncomfortable companion each year during the season of Advent. John, the bristly harsh talking man of the wilderness, reminds us that we must confront and subject ourselves to the bad news before we can fully embrace and live into the good news.
Mark’s Gospel begins very simply: “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.” Then, moving swiftly to the quote from the prophet Isaiah, “I am sending my messenger ahead of you.”
John is the messenger, sent to prepare the way. John the Baptist comes to guide us in making the path straight in preparation for the Incarnation – God coming to earth in human flesh, in the person of Jesus Christ.
John wants us to recognize Jesus when he comes; John, himself, recognized Jesus the Messiah, leaping with exaltation within his mother Elizabeth’s womb when Elizabeth encountered Mary, the Theotokos – the God bearer, newly pregnant with the baby Jesus. John wants to prepare us to meet Jesus Christ with that same exaltation.
John cries from the wilderness, reminding us of our own journeys in the wilderness – long dark nights of painful struggle and anxious misdirection. We all need time of exile in the wilderness in order to come to our fullest realization of our dependence upon God alone.
John is our grating flight instructor, barking at us to follow the rules of the flight manual, obey the instructions of air traffic control, and trust our instruments rather than our own prideful sense of direction – mostly misdirection. John is most zealous in wanting us to travel responsibly and joyfully along our journey, baptized and guided by the Holy Spirit, loving and respecting our fellow travelers, sharing the good news, and arriving securely with great glory in the arms of our Lord.
A voice cries out:
“In the wilderness prepare the way of theLord,
make straight in the desert a highway for our God.”
It is John the Baptist who calls us to share the good news of this blessed Advent.
The Laying of the Corner Stone and The Opening of the Church for The Church of the Advent
September 11, 1960
The Reverend Reginald Carter Groff, B.D., Rector
