Lent 1B

A reflection on the readings for Lent 1B by the Rev. Jacqueline Schmitt Apologies, all for the lateness of this! And everyone has already preached!! Parish life can be distracting, especially at the time of changing seasons, when liturgies and schedules all have to be rearranged, etc etc. This Lent in Year B has some difficult lessons in it appointed for Sundays, with going from the wilderness to “get behind me Satan” to the overturning of the tables of the money changers. I was intrigued, therefore, by a reading of the wilderness in Mark as not such an inhospitable place. It was Sarah Henrich’s commentary on Working Preacher that got me thinking about the wilderness with allusions to the peaceable kingdom. May Lent for all of us be a wilderness of such refreshment, clarity and focus. We’ve read about this wilderness before; in the other gospel accounts, in Matthew and Luke, we get a lot more detail about what Satan thinks will tempt Jesus to leave this mission behind and take up the easy life. We read nothing here about stones becoming bread, nothing about daring God to rescue him if he were to jump from the Temple roof, nothing about how all the powers and principalities of the world would be his to command if only Jesus would worship Satan. In this gospel the temptations are left up to our own imagination. It’s all there together, perhaps for the whole 40 days: the wilderness, the temptations, the wild beasts, the angels. When we read this story, we can write our own temptations into it: what struggles do we have which threaten to take us away from what God wants to do with our lives, which undermine our assurance that we are God’s beloved child? We think of the Spirit in our lives as a good thing. In the old Prayer Book language we would say, “The Lord be with you,” and reply, “And with thy Spirit,” as though that were something comforting. But the Spirit in this Gospel passage is anything but comforting. The Spirit appears first in the violent tearing of the heavens. And then the Spirit drives Jesus into the wilderness – literally, the word in Greek, is “to throw.” The Spirit, no gentle, soft thing, throws Jesus, pitches him like a fastball into the wilderness, into the arms of Satan, into the company of the wild beasts, into the care of the angels. And here again, the story is so spare, so parsimonious on details, that we can imagine our own life against this scrim of a gospel: with what power is the Spirit working in our lives? Is the affirmation we hear from God, about our beloved identity, accompanied by the soundtrack of our lives being torn apart? In these gospels, there is something about the wilderness experience that prepares Jesus for his mission – to proclaim good news, to bring about healing and wholeness. There is something about being there – with Satan, and wild beasts, and angels – that made him ready to recognize that the time was right. When John was arrested, it seems, the whole operation is set in motion. The kingdom of God is no longer in the distance; it is near, here, present tense, good news, time to believe that things are getting better. What went on in the wilderness that made Jesus ready to face the bad news of John’s arrest with the Good News that God’s reign has begun? Curious, isn’t it, that this Gospel story is paired with the end of the story of the flood – with God’s promise to Noah that the world would never be destroyed, that God would live in harmony with the world he created. Every living creature can live in safety under that covenant – that never again would God’s anger be so great as to destroy it. Such a human longing, this is, this vision of the peaceable kingdom. The prophet Isaiah spoke of it, that God would never let anything be hurt or destroyed on the holy mountain. Utopian dreamers like Edward Hicks would base their fantastical paintings on this promise of a created world in which all live in harmony. Could that peaceable kingdom be what Jesus experienced in the wilderness? A place where the reality of wild beasts and angels and the beloved Son of God living in such harmony drove out the devil himself? What are we doing in our places of wilderness? We can find them as places of trial and difficulty, the dark night of the soul, the battles we must fight to earn our “hero’s badge.” Or we can see the wilderness as a place of preparation, a place apart from the rest of our lives, where we can see God’s purpose clearly, where God’s harmony is revealed, where we live with wild beasts and where angels take care of us -- a place where we can hide out for a while from the Spirit, until that day when something big happens, when the plan is set in motion, and we know, with clarity and strength, just what God would have us do.

Mystical Transformation

A reflection on the readings for Last Epiphany, The Feast of the Transfiguration: 2 Kings 2:1-12, Mark 9:2-9

A delightful video appeared on the news Saturday morning. The story told of a couple of young men in St. Pete Beach, Florida, who were wakeboarding – water skiing on a single board, without the accompanying ropes, in the wave created by a speed boat – one young man was filming the other as he skied.
Suddenly two dolphins appeared, leaping high out of the water then diving back in. The dolphins raced along in the wave near the man skiing, with a playful intentionality, with no other purpose than to have fun. And then quite easily the dolphins caught up with the speed boat, astonishing everyone who watched.

The video is pure delight – catching the dolphins in and out of the water – simply playing. Moments like these, when the beauty of nature breaks into the world of human beings, surprising us and delighting us, are mystical moments. Caught by surprise mystical moments burst open our sense of life and give us a new, deeper understanding of what is possible. Mystical moments point us to God, and the reality that there is so much more to this world than we normally see.

Mystical moments of the in-breaking of God are what we hear in our scripture readings this morning. In the reading from 2 Kings we have the story of Elisha and Elijah. These two prophets are well known in Hebrew stories as the prophets who point the way toward the coming of the Messiah. The story of Jesus’ transfiguration in the presence of Peter, James, and John, like the story of the ascension of Elijah, is meant to break open our understanding of who God is, how God works in the world, and invite us into a deeper relationship with God.

No doubt mystical moments, when we are able to perceive them as such, sustain and deepen our faith. But more often we live in a world of skeptics, or as Mark is fond of saying, a world in which we fail to see God’s presence around us.

The Huffington Post Religion page had an article on Saturday by Diana Butler Bass. Bass was reflecting on her latest book, “Christianity After Religion, The End of Church and the Birth of a New Spiritual Awakening.” Bass writes:

Something startling is happening in American religion…
…In 1999, when survey takers asked Americans "Do you consider yourself spiritual or religious," ….54 percent responded that they were "religious but not spiritual." By 2009, only 9 percent of Americans responded that way. In 10 years, those willing to identify themselves primarily as "religious" plummeted by 45 percentage points.

In the last decade, the word "religion" has become equated with institutional or organized religion. Because of crises such as the Sept. 11 terrorist attacks and the Roman Catholic abuse scandal, Americans now define "religion" in almost exclusively negative terms.

….There may be hope, however, regarding the future of faith. Despite worry about the word, "religion," Americans are extremely warm toward "spiritual but not religious" (30 percent) and, even more interestingly (and perhaps paradoxically), the term "spiritual and religious" (48 percent). While "religion" means institutional religion, "spirituality" means an experience of faith. Large numbers of Americans are hankering for experiential faith whereby they can connect with God…”

"Americans are searching for churches -- and temples, synagogues, and mosques -- that are not caught up in political intrigue, rigid rules and prohibitions, institutional maintenance, unresponsive authorities, and inflexible dogma but instead offer pathways of life-giving spiritual experience, connection, meaning, vocation, and doing justice in the world..” (Huff Post Religion, Saturday, Feb. 18, 2012: Diana Butler Bass)

I find this excerpt from Bass’ article intriguing because it segues with discussions taking place in various churches on the idea of mission and purpose. What are doing in the world? How are striving to be relevant, to stimulate the senses of those who come seeking a deeper relationship with God? How are opening up the creative imagination within ourselves and others? How are we staying stuck on the mountain? Or, are we finding ways to follow Jesus off the mountain and out into the wild terrain to encounter people yearning for God? How are we seeking to engage the mystery and journey through that mystery, which will surely transform us in the process? How are we walking with others, that as communities of faith, we might be transformed?

Lent, which begins this week, is a season that journeys through mystery and transformation: mystery of what God is doing in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus; and the transformation that is the result of God’s in-breaking Spirit.

Lent is distinctive and beckons us to take notice.

I think of Lent as a feminine season - like a woman pregnant - the mystery of life growing inside, transformation taking shape in ways unseen. The unseen transformation eventually ripens and burst forth, new life!

Part of our mission as people of faith is to engage in creative energy. Lent will stimulate our senses in a particular way. Lent invites us to use our imaginations, and to be attentive to the ways God is breaking into our lives. Lent invites us into the mystery of death and life. Into the mystery of examining the ways we are broken and the ways God breaks in and heals us.

For God’s presence is essential to our lives, like breathing – in and out, willingly and unwillingly, consciously and unconsciously, we breathe and go on breathing – and so it is with God – always present whether we know God’s presence of not, filling our lives with God’s sustaining love, whether we know it or not. Inviting us to be playful, like dolphins in the waves, in a faith journey that engages all our senses and imagination. The great season of Lent is upon us. May it be a mystical journey of faith.

EPIPHANY 4B

A reflection on the readings for Deuteronomy 18. 15-20, Psalm 111, Revelation 12. 1-5a, Mark 1.21-28 by the Rev. Dr. Sarah Rogers

I can still remember the first time I preached. It was while I was going through the selection process for ordination. My Vicar was going on holiday and needed me to cover evensong and he thought it would be a good idea if I had a go at preaching as well. It was pretty nerve-wracking – my head was full of all sorts of thoughts. Will they yawn? What if someone looks at their watch? What if I clam up? Well, it didn’t go too badly, I suppose, but, I'm afraid that I fell into the trap that many a novice preacher falls into - I put too much in...it was Trafalgar Day, so Nelson so it included a good sea story about Nelson, it was also Bible Sunday, so I think I preached on all of the readings including the Psalm. Although the vicar wasn't there a trusted friend came along to support me. Thankfully, it wasn’t until afterwards I discovered that the couple sat in the front row wearing Grimsby football shirts were in fact the bishop of Grimsby and his wife who had been to watch Grimsby play Cardiff...!

I wonder what Jesus would have felt like that day. We at least get a reasonable time to prepare our sermons. We know what the readings are in advance, we have time to think, to pray, to read commentaries, to clarify our thoughts before we preach.

Jesus would have walked into the synagogue been handed a scroll and been asked to read - then he would have taught on what he had just read. It probably wasn’t the first time he had taught in the Synagogue, although it is the first time we hear about him doing so in Mark’s gospel. So, yes, I wonder how Jesus felt that day. It was probably similar to how a new teacher feels when they stand in front of a new class, or a preacher in front of a new congregation. Jesus was perhaps a new face in Capernaum, although perhaps his reputation had preceded him. Can you imagine turning up to a new church and being asked to preach (or even read the lesson) as soon as you walked through the door?

Jesus spoke with authority. I'm pretty sure he was succinct - brief and to the point. His authority was becoming established very quickly. Here we are now at the last Sunday of Epiphany, very soon our attention will be turning towards Lent and the journey to the cross and the resurrection. For now, we are just reminding ourselves of how quickly Jesus’ ministry began once the appointed time had arrived. Jesus has been baptised by John in the river Jordan, he has chosen his first disciples and he has performed his first miracle at Cana of Galilee. Now he is teaching with authority in the Synagogue at Capernaum, and things take a turn – enter those who will oppose him. His teaching in the Synagogue doesn’t raise any challenges, but clearly he has made an impact, he teaches in a different way to the scribes. That is bound to cause conflict before too long. Then he is confronted with a man with an unclean spirit. The unclean spirit knows who they are encountering, the Holy one of God. But again Jesus speaks with clear authority. ‘Be silent, and come out of him!’ I can’t help feeling that the unclean spirit was the easier to deal with, they responded to Jesus’ authority and the man was healed. The scribes however, would not have responded in the same way, indeed it soon becomes clear that they don’t. Indeed, they are threatened by Jesus’ authority. I wonder whether they realise that it is they who have been stifling the faith of those around them? Probably not. What they do see is someone who challenges their authority, they see the way people respond to Jesus and how his popularity is spreading and they want to quash it.

In one way Jesus is a calming influence, in that he frees the man of the unclean spirit, the spirit puts up a bit of a challenge, there is convulsing and crying out, but the spirit leaves and peace is restored. On the other hand Jesus also confronts and challenges the opposition. He doesn’t do so directly in this instance and there appears to be no reproach, no reciprocal challenge, but clearly the challenge is there and it will soon become a clear threat to those in authority.

That word authority. Whose authority? Jesus spoke with authority which would soon challenge those in authority, the scribes and the Pharisees. What is authority? How should we, how do we respond to authority? In thinking about that question I can’t help thinking about the challenges that face the Street Pastors on a Saturday night here on the streets of Caerphilly. When people are drunk and confrontational the authority of the police doesn’t go down to well, their intervention may make a situation worse. And yet, the Street Pastors, uniformed to identify who they are, but also signifying authority, bring a calming influence to problematic situations. That relationship is no less complicated that the situation that Jesus found himself in. However, the authority of the Street Pastors as a Christian organisation is treated with much more respect by the general public than ‘the Authorities’ (the police). That perhaps is not dissimilar to the situation Jesus found himself in and the impact he had on the community and the effect that had on the Authorities. Thankfully, 2000 yrs on Street Pastors are seen as working with (rather than against) the authorities – that is quite a major change.

As Christians we are called to emulate Christ, we are called to submit to His authority. Street Pastors do that in a very effective way, and thankfully they aren’t met with the opposition that Christ was. In doing so, the Street Pastors show the love of Jesus in this community. Jesus showed his love for his community by bringing them the new gospel, the new authority of the new commandment to ‘love one another as I have loved you.’ We as Christians are all called to emulate Jesus and bring the gospel to others by loving them as Jesus loved us. For those who followed Jesus in those early days that love was so energising that they simply obeyed and followed his example and that is what we too must do, here today.

Epiphany 3B

A reflection on Jonah 3:1-5, By Rev. Dr. Kate Hennessy-Keimig

In my day job as a psychotherapist, I often have the opportunity to hear people’s stories, to sit with them while they puzzle out and try to make sense of the things that happen, the directions things take, and often to try to answer those most puzzling of questions about the “why” of things in their lives.

Recently I was having a conversation with one of my clients who is about to begin school in order to follow her dream of becoming an artist and painter. I asked her how she had come to know that this was what she wanted to do with her life. She said, “Well, you know, I was going through a really bad time in my life, and for some reason I had this urge to draw and paint. At first it was just to get through it, a part of the healing process. As I started feeling better, I realized that this was more than just therapy for me, it went much deeper somehow and I just had this sense that it was right, like it was something I was just meant to do.” Her journey forward from that day has not been without obstacles. This is in fact the “third time” attempt to begin her studies that she is hoping will be the charm. One earlier effort had to be abandoned for financial reasons, and even this enrollment has been postponed. But I believe that she will persevere and follow what seems to be a clear call on her life.
Scripture is full of stories about people who have some experience of a sense of being called to something. In the stories, in a moment in time, someone is given the opportunity to make a choice that, whether they know it or not, will change their lives forever. We may be able to think about such moments in our own lives, too. Times when we somehow felt pulled or drawn in one way or another…to choose this person, this job, this place over that one.

We may or may not think about these moments as having anything to do with “being called.” Perhaps we ask (in the language of that great spiritual director’s question), “where is God in all of this,” or maybe that doesn’t even occur to us. And even when we may have some sense that God is in the mix here, we may not respond with whole-hearted acceptance or enthusiasm. Our response might be more like…”Um, no thanks”…. Or “Oh, God, I don’t think you mean me….surely you must be mistaken.” Or, “God….you must have me mixed up with someone who is truly suited for the task….someone brighter or better or stronger or holier.”

Truth be told, most of us are much more Jonah than Simon and Andrew and James and John when it comes to feeling called by God. We are much more likely to be on the next boat heading off in the other direction, than we are to drop everything in response to an invitation to “come and follow me.” We don’t feel worthy. We don’t feel ready. Or we just plain don’t want to. We aren’t inclined to drop or add anything, to take a risk. Life is fine just as it is, and who needs the complication!

Jonah was called by God to go save people he did not like from complete and total destruction. Imagine that if you can. Call up in your mind someone who has hurt you or someone you love. Or maybe just someone who is so foreign to you, so “other” that you cannot imagine that you could ever have anything to say to them that would matter or even make sense. And you get this task…this “call” that says go tell this person something. And not just any message, but one that you are pretty sure is not going be good news for them. Like the message that God gave Jonah to deliver, “God asked me to tell you that you need to repent or you and your entire country will be destroyed in forty days.” Well, of course Jonah tries everything NOT to do this task, including boarding a ship going in the opposite direction. But in the end, after being accused of being responsible for the near wreck of the ship, and spending some time cooling his heels in the belly of a whale, Jonah does follow God’s call and finds himself delivering the prophetic message heard in this morning’s Old testament reading….”Forty days more and Nineveh shall be overthrown.” Now the fact that this was heard and taken seriously may have had a whole lot more to do with God than it did with the messenger, Jonah, but it took and everyone did repent, and God did not destroy Nineveh. There is another piece of the story that we did not hear today that tells us more about Jonah’s response to God’s decision to spare the Ninevites. You might think that Jonah would be pleased that his prophetic message was heeded, and all ended well, but this was not the case. Actually Jonah was quite upset with God about this change of mind and heart that spared these, in his mind at least, awful people. God was not seeing it his way, doing it his way.

Some commentators think that Jonah suspected all along that God was going to spare those horrible Ninevites, and that was why he wanted no part of this thing and fled in the first place. He hated these folks, and he wanted no part in their deliverance. God, was far more merciful than he could ever be towards his enemies, and initially he simply could not see himself as part of the plan. But God continues to work on him and by the end of the story Jonah appears to accept the radical notion that not even a Nineveh (or a Jonah) is beyond God’s compassion and ability to transform.

We all have our own stories of being called by God. Perhaps we have not named them as such. Perhaps we have not been ready to claim them. Perhaps when we hear God’s call, we are like Jonah, boarding the first boat for Tarshish, needing a little time out in the belly of the fish to reconsider things, and even then, still struggling to get our heads around God’s incredible capacity for love and compassion and forgiveness.

Whatever else we are called to in life, as Christians we are all called by baptism to be co-creators with God in building God’s kingdom. We know that God desires that this is a kingdom of mercy and justice, peace and compassion. We know that we are called to love God and love our neighbors, especially those we feel we might have nothing to say to, nothing in common with. We do not have to be perfect in our efforts. Those who went before surely were not!

A Hunger for God

A reflection on the readings for Epiphany 2: First Samuel 3:1-10, John 1:43-51, by The Rev. Terri C. Pilarski

The Hunger Games, is the first book in a trilogy of books based on a time some 100 years in the future. Following the apocalypse and a complete collapse of the world as we know it a new country rises up in North America. Instead of the United States there are twelve districts, all tightly controlled by the Capital, and each focused on the natural resources of the district. Most of the districts are very poor, a few have ample resources. In order to remind the districts that they are under the strong arm of the President and Capital, the Hunger Games are held once a year. The games, looking like something out of reality television and the Olympics, requires each district to randomly select one boy and one girl, called “TRIBUTES,” between the ages of twelve and eighteen, to compete in the games. The Hunger Games are a survival of the fittest battle through extreme wilderness experiences with only one person, one tribute, allowed to win. All of the children competitors must battle each other and the elements until one remains, with the entire event being televised. Everyone in every district is required to watch the games. The district with the winning child receives notoriety, extra food, and benefits for a year, until the next Hunger Games.

Katniss, the lead character in the series, is a sixteen year old girl from District 12, a poor coal mining district. Following the death of her father from a coal mining accident, Katniss becomes the family caretaker – hunting for meat and collecting berries to support her mother and younger sister. She adores her sweet younger sister, Primrose.
Here is an excerpt from the book, with Katniss as the narrator, as the town prepares to learn who will be the tributes from their district:

“It’s time for the first drawing. Effie Trinket says as she always does, ‘Ladies first!’ and crosses to the big glass bowl with the girl’s names. She reaches in, digs her hand deep into the ball, and pulls out a piece of paper. The crowd draws a collective breath and then you can hear a pin drop, and I’m feeling nauseous and so desperately hoping that it’s not me….Effie….reads out the name in a clear voice. And it’s not me. It’s Primrose….There must be some mistake. This can’t be happening. Prim has her name on one piece of paper in thousands! Her chances of being chosen are so remote that I haven’t even bothered to worry about her…..with one sweep of my arm, I push her behind me. ‘I volunteer! I gasp, I volunteer as tribute!”

It is no surprise that when the younger sister is chosen to be the tribute Katniss insists on going in her place. Take me, she proclaims. The story that unfolds is gripping, moving, and challenging to read.

Our readings this morning all focus on the idea of being chosen by God, called to serve God, and our response to that call. The readings offer us a number of ways in which people hear God’s call and follow, reflecting that each of us is called, in different ways, and each of us responds in our own way.

Samuel, although a small boy, is called to become a "trustworthy prophet of the Lord." The Gospel of John tells the story of Philip and Nathanael leaving everything behind to follow Jesus. These readings connect to the theme of the Gospel for this year – “Where is God?” with the idea that God chooses to be made known in and through us.

None of us has the exact same call from God, each call is unique to who we are. Which reminds me of this story:

A rabbi named Zusya died and went to stand before the judgment seat of God. As he waited for God to appear, he grew nervous thinking about his life and how little he had done. He began to imagine that God was going to ask him, "Why weren't you Moses or why weren't you Solomon or why weren't you David?" But when God appeared, the rabbi was surprised. God simply asked, "Why weren't you Zusya?"

How are we to become fully who God calls us to be? Samuel reminds us that God calls both children and adults. God’s call might come as a whisper, or small voice in the night, as a dream, a thought, an idea, or something said to us by another person. God’s call comes in and through the context of all the voices in our lives.

And so, sometimes we need help discerning which voice is the authentic voice of God. Samuel seeks the guidance of Eli. People discerning a call to ordained ministry need to have that call confirmed by a community of people who, after spending a number of weeks and months in prayer and conversation, can affirm a call or redirect the person toward another understanding of their call. Each of us has a calling, and for many of us it manifests in the work we do every day, whether that is our paid profession, our volunteer work, or our role as a parent or grandparent, lawyer, doctor, nurse, or teacher.

Martin Luther King, Jr. whose feast day we celebrate today, knew his call from God. A minister and an activist for social justice, particularly as one who spoke out against racism and prejudice, Dr. King literally put his life on the line to follow God. Unlike the Hunger Games where one person survives, King worked hard for the survival of people of color – for all of society to recognize the inherent value of all human beings – loved by God and worthy of equal opportunities in all avenues of life. Dr. King points us to consider how our call, like his call, is a movement toward the fulfillment of the kingdom of God, or what it means to love God, love self, and love others. Our call may not look as extreme or as intense as his, but that doesn’t mean it is less important to the kingdom of God.

Bruce Epperly, an author and Spiritual Director suggests that our call is a

“call to adventure – to see God everywhere, to experience God in our daily lives, to honor embodiment, and welcome revelation whenever and wherever it occurs…In the questioning, inspired by a sense of holiness in all moments and all creatures, we will discover God’s voice amid the voices…"

Katherine Hawker at liturgyoutside.net wrote this prayer, A Litany of Call:

A child once dreamed the Voice was calling his name… 'Samuel';
Fisherman once heard the Voice when a young man bid them follow;
And still the Voice beckons today… can you hear?
Here I am. Send me.

Moses protested vehemently as the Voice spoke at the burning bush;
Mary stood amazed as the Voice proclaimed impending birth;
And still the Voice beckons today… can you hear?
Here I am. Send me.

Rosa Parks followed the Voice to the front of the bus;
Martin Luther King, Jr. heard the Voice as the bullet shattered;
And still the Voice beckons today… can you hear?
Here I am. Send me….

A timid believer pauses to listen to the Voice;
A struggling church hears the Voice and turns;
And still the Voice beckons today… can you hear?

Listen. The Voice is calling you, too…

The Holy Name

A reflection on the readings for Christmas I/Holy Name by the Rev. Camille Hegg

Numbers 6:22-27; Psalm 8; Galatians 4:4-7 or Philippians 2:5-11; Luke 2:15-21

Names are important. In many ways they characterize and define those bearing them. Nicknames sometimes come about because they fit better than the name given at birth and pronounced at baptism, in Jewish celebrations or other rituals of all cultures.
I am one of many women who have gone through a process of whether to change my last name at marriage. I know someone who, when she went through a divorce, decided to name herself something completely different from her birth or marriage names. She took the first names of her two sons, played with spellings, sounds and rhythms, and came up with a new last name. Immediately after the court case, she legally changed her name.
I think of pets and the various names in our family and with friends. I had some friends who had a fun sense of humor. Their black and white dog they did not name Spot. They chose Stain. Stain was a great dog, and the coloring of Stain was more like stains than merely spots.
January. 1, New Year’s Day is the celebration of The Holy Name of Jesus. Luke says Mary and Joseph took Jesus to the temple for the naming of the baby. This was a vital part of Hebrew culture. A liturgy that was enacted by Jewish couples over and over. His name was to be Jesus, as the angel had told Mary with the annunciation and as Joseph had also been told. Mary and Joseph did not name this child; the naming was part of God plan of salvation. Mary and Joseph took their places in this plan by doing as they had been told. Going to the Temple for the naming of the baby fulfilled Mosaic law and reminds us that we, too, are children of God.
Naming is only part of rearing a baby. Apparently Mary and Joseph took their roles seriously. Look how he turned out as an adult. Joseph taught him his trade; both taught and modeled compassion and generosity. He fulfilled the attributes of the one who would come. His mother was in his life from before his birth and through his ministry. She was with him through the trial and his murder and was there at the grave. Her penchant for pondering perhaps enabled Jesus to ponder and pray. It was probably this pondering and praying that led him to understand that the laws of the Sabbath were meant for humans. That was why he could break the law and heal on the Sabbath, for instance.
His name is significant; the rearing is invaluable; the faith in God came to fruition in him. Hre was all that scripture prophesied: Wonderful Counselor, Prince of Peace, Emmanuel, God saves, Christ, intecessor, friend and more.



.
Names are important. There is a beautiful African folk tale written down and illustrated by Ashley Bryan. For Africans in this book Turtle is a very special God like character. Turtle goes under the sea, on the land. Turtle makes it his business to know the names of all the people in the village. They have a naming ceremony at the time children can learn to say their names. They all go to the sea and the child tells the village, teaches, the village her or his name. After the naming ceremony the child can go outside alone because….everyone knows the child, the parents and grandparents and where he or she lives.
In this story the boy becomes very discouraged because he has such a long name. His Granny teaches him, very patiently and it does take a long time. She always encourages him to keep trying, reminding him that he does have a long name, but it is not the longest name.
After his beach name dance, he goes out but no one wants to say his name. They tease him, refuse to learn it. The animals can’t say it. So, he goes to the beach and is sitting on the sand putting his hands and feet in the water. Turtle swims up on the beach and says the boy’s name. The boy is ecstatic that someone knows his name. He asks how Turtle knows and Turtle says,
“I learn names from the beach name dances;
I remember them well because I take no chances.
I swim up and listen, you don’t see me.
Then I spell your name in shells at the bottom of the sea.”

The boy’s name is Upsilimana Tumpalerado. And the one with the longest name, he learns, is Granny. She is delighted when Turtle knows her name: Mapaseedo Jackalindy Eye Pie Tackarindy. The boy is astonished that Granny has another name besides Granny, but she tells him to call her Granny. And she tells him, that from then on, she is going to call him Son.
There is something so important about names, knowing and remembering them. The Feast of the Holy Name reminds us of that.



- Posted using BlogPress from my iPad

Christmas 2011

A reflection on the readings for Christmas by Janine Goodwin

This year, the lectionary offers a choice between the simple, elegant birth story in Luke and the sonorous and somewhat abstract glories of John, and despite the choices and the multiple commentaries on each, I keep being reminded of a young couple I knew when I was a music student in my early twenties.

They were no more than four years older than I, maybe less. They were good kids, thoughtful, responsible. They had gotten married the previous year, and had just had their first baby. I knew they were living on half a worn shoestring and incredibly busy, both going to school full-time, and I couldn’t imagine anything more wonderful than having a baby. My sentimental fantasies did not include diapers, screams, spit-up, or weird rashes, and I had never experienced any sleep deprivation more serious than a single all-nighter pulled on the eve of a deadline, followed by a long, peaceful daytime nap.

One day, after a rehearsal, I was busy telling the young father how happy he must be. He looked at me wearily and said, “Yes, I’m happy. I wouldn’t have it any other way, but it’s not easy. Let me tell you what it’s like to have a baby. Imagine you hear that someone you really love is coming to visit. You’re really excited and you run around getting ready and you just can’t wait to see them. Then they get here, and you’re so happy to see them and you love them so much more than you thought you could and it’s wonderful . . . and then they NEVER LEAVE. Your life is never going to go back to the way it was before.”

For the first time, I realized how tired he looked.

The story of the incarnation is the story of a huge change, not just in the lives of Mary and Joseph, but in time itself, and it is a story of change in our lives. In the presence of the Word made flesh in space and time, we find out what our illusions were and what the demands of a new life really are.

Christmas is the test of our Advent practice: it’s when we will, if we watch ourselves, find out whether we were really preparing to be open to a new thing that God is doing or indulging in a season of holy procrastination. It is possible to listen to the prophecies and be sure we know what others didn’t, to get lost in the beauty of the language and the music that has grown up around it, and forget that we, like others before us, can miss the point. It is quite possible, since we are human, that we can hear a familiar story without remembering how shocking it is, how demanding the Gospels are. It is possible to forget that Jesus offended the good people by hanging around with sinners and outcasts and took the extraordinary step of treating women as students and friends. It is possible to forget that Jesus came into the power struggles and injustices of the world and died of them because he challenged everyone’s assumptions and didn’t play by anyone’s rules. It is possible to forget that prophecies are strange, we misinterpret them, and God always surprises us and calls us in directions we could never have expected.

Should we rejoice? Yes. Should we expect everything to be happy, comfortable, and easy? No. After the infancy narratives and the one haunting vignette of Jesus as a difficult teenager comes John the Baptist, prophet and wild man. He’s already there in John, upsetting pretty much everybody. The birth of Jesus Christ is many things, but it is not an assurance that everything will go smoothly. There will be love, healing, and work that challenges us; ultimately, all will be well; in the meantime, the only guarantee is that God is with us, working in our lives, and will never leave. Emmanuel, God with us. It is enough. Are we ready for that? Are we ready for the tenderness and the mess, the fatigue and the joy, of a life with Jesus?