Holy Cross Monastery, West Park, NY
Brother Bernard Delcourt, OHC
BCP – Advent 3 C - Sunday 17 December 2006
Zephaniah 3:14-20
Philippians 4:4-7(8-9)
Luke 3:7-18
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O Eternal One.
(adaptation from Ps 19: 14)
*****
Rejoice, rejoice; for the Kingdom of God is at hand! The justice and peace of God, the truth and love of God are within our reach. They are within us. With God’s grace, we can make the choices that bring them about.
That is the light of Advent in the darkness of this oncoming winter. No matter how short the days get and how dark the newscasts become, a shining light pierces through it all; beckoning us to make our way towards an authentic, a righteous, a peaceful and a loving world.
John the Baptizer’s voice rings through the darkness. Repent, change your heart and mind, change your ways and bear “fruits worthy of repentance”. Now this latter statement is quite the agenda. John the Baptist calls us to walk the talk.
Yes, we’ve been saved. We are children of God; now let’s show it!
Let’s not fall asleep on the fact that we were baptized in water and the Holy Spirit. Although we were made “Christ’s own” in baptism, we haven’t been issued a visa to the Kingdom of God with nothing more to be or to do.
Bearing the name of Christian is not enough. To paraphrase John: “God is able from these floorboards to raise Christians!”
Just because we made our most important appointment at baptism, it does not mean that we are invited to sit down in the waiting room of life and relax with a magazine before courteously being led into heaven.
Our baptism was a visible sign of God’s grace in enabling us to start a life of ongoing conversion, of ongoing repentance whenever we backtrack. When we repent, we turn ourselves towards the light. And the light cast our shadow behind us.
Conversion leads us into co-creating the world that God wants us all to live into. That is: “The World According to God’s Love”. As we do that, the time that separates us from the Second Advent whittles away. As more of us incarnate God’s love more often, I believe the Second Advent comes closer.
Not because of our self-will or intrinsic power, but because of the will of God being worked through God’s children, at this very moment, in history, and in the future.
So I invite you and I to recognize the shower of graces that drench our lives like fertile furrows. Deep down, we know God’s love. Deep down, we feel impelled to answer this love in our lives. We can turn from “The World According to our Shadow’s Greed”.
We are loved and we can love God and each other. Yes, it’s here. It’s within us. We can find it when we turn to the light and make our way in its direction. And that’s an invitation that even John the Baptist had a hard time discerning.
He saw repentance as a way to escape a wrathful God’s vengeance at the end of times. John eventually had to have messengers ask Jesus: “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?” (Luke, chapter 7)
God’s love for all of creation, in Jesus, is revealed to be radical beyond words.
So let’s keep turning our hearts and minds towards the light and bear fruit worthy of repentance, worthy of our conversion.
The writer of the Gospel, the Gentile physician known as Luke suggests some medicine for this turnaround as he reports John’s preaching:
- Share what you have,
- Be fair and honest with everyone,
- Don’t abuse power.
Just in case you think you are doing all of this already; and in case you think this is addressed to whomever happens to be more wealthy and more powerful than you deem yourself to be; think again.
If we should think that way, let’s remind ourselves of the rich young man who asked Jesus “teacher what else must I do to inherit the Kingdom of God?” We often think we have done enough already.
On a global scale, all of us here are wealthy and powerful. Our everyday decisions and choices (conscious or less so), our decisions as citizens of the wealthy and powerful nations of the world all bear on the Global community.
Of the 6 Billion humans currently alive, 3 Billion live on less that $2 a day. That comes down to less than $800 a year. Of those, 1 Billion people live on less than $1 a day.
In the meantime, we uphold a global society where the wealthiest and the poorest are growing further apart from each other in the life they experience.
“Earth provides enough to satisfy everyone's need,” said Mahatma Ghandi, “but not everyone's greed.” How do we participate of this greed and injustice?
Would love mandate that we find out what we can do to change such a situation? God loves the three poorest billion humans; just as much as the others. How can we emulate that love? How can we be the instruments of God’s love in the world?
I know; we’ll need to chew on that one… And let’s remember to pray about it. Eventually, we’ll know what things we can and must do. Let us bear the fruits worthy of conversion.
The distractions and hurriedness of our lives can separate us from our true vocation and the wisdom that cradles deep within us. While shopping Christmas away and indulging in all our favorite foods, it’s easy to loose the focus of the incredible good news: God is coming to tarry amongst us.
In amazing love for the creation, God will judge all of us. He will hold the mirror of our judgment to ourselves and we will have to face whatever truth we see.
That - in itself - could be sufficiently hellish to many. When the already-present Kingdom will be made universally and unavoidably tangible, all of the world will heal its past wounds.
As the prophet Zephaniah told us this morning: “God is in our midst… The Most High will rejoice over us with gladness, he will renew us in his love. The Eternal will exult over us with loud singing as on a day of festival.”
I can’t wait to hear God sing, to hear Jesus laugh! It sounds like Christmas, wouldn’t you know it.
*****
Come Lord Jesus, come. Amen.
Sunday, December 17, 2006
Tuesday, December 12, 2006
BCP - Advent 2 C - 10 Dec 2006
Holy Cross Monastery,
West Park, NY
Robert Magliula, p/OHC
BCP – Advent 2 C - Sunday 03 December 2006
Baruch 5:1-9
Philippians 1:1-11
Luke 3:1-6
There is one kind of person society cannot figure out---and certainly cannot control. And that is an ascetic. Think about it. The wheel of culture is turned by business, education, family, government, and organized religion. These hold little or no interest for the ascetic. In all these areas that make up society, the ascetic is like a fish out of water.
He or she is not on a salary, and doesn’t need one. An ascetic is not much interested in marketing things or selling services for a profit or crunching numbers to reach a bottom line. Ascetics don’t care about living in a upscale community, driving a fancy car, or building a 401K account.
An ascetic might be educated, but generally could care less about being validated by an institution of higher learning. An ascetic has little need to be degreed. And when capital campaigns are launched by these educational institutions, ascetics aren’t among the hot prospects. An ascetic is not likely to be a cornerstone member of organized religion either. Not many have been interested throughout history in climbing an ecclesiastical ladder---Or supporting the ladder once they have climbed it.
Things like maintaining buildings and making budgets don’t appeal to them. They have little desire to win friends and influence people, so they are not apt to be in politics. They are not good at raising money. They could care less about taking polls, or making decisions around what they say. They don’t pay taxes because they have no money, and they are not big flag-wavers. Other matters claim their interest.
The gospel of Jesus begins with John the Baptist, and John was an ascetic. He wasn’t on a salary. He didn’t live in a comfortable house. He wasn’t a member of a family of four. He had no 401K plan or educational degrees. He did not belong to the temple religion. In fact he had some harsh things to say about it and its leaders. John was as apolitical as you can get. He drew crowds but had no capacity to tell people what they wanted to hear. Finally, his detachment from political concern led him to confront King Herod about his sex life---a decision which cost John his head.
How strange of God to begin the way of Christianity with this untamed and uncivilized man. How peculiar to begin our preparations for this coming season---this time in which commerce and education and politics and religion all cozy up together---with a focus on an ascetic from the Judean wilderness.
And yet, why not begin the cycle of preparation- incarnation-manifestation with John, whose only concern in life was to give voice to what God told him to say. To announce to the people what God was doing in the world, and to wake up the people and call them to respond to what God was doing.
Because John had cleared a wide pathway for God in his own life, the people could recognize the voice of God behind John’s own voice. He offered them the opportunity to get clean with God through his baptism of repentance. Through it, they would be prepared to receive the one more powerful than John.
Ascetics can’t be bought off, so they constitute living reminders that idolatry is not the way. They remind us that the world of commerce and government and education and family and religion---all the things that have such impact on our lives---are not ends in themselves. They exist to serve us; we are not to serve them. That place belongs only to God. John by his words and life make it clear that no human being or institution can take the place of God.
During Advent we are invited to let go, to open up---not to forsake the things we love and want for our lives, but to forsake them as idols. That means learning to hold them lightly, and to be willing to give them up when it becomes clear that they are taking up too much room. John stands before us, bold and loud, demanding that we check our spiritual compass. His witness and prodding certainly challenge me in this new chapter of my spiritual journey.
As my brothers can attest, in the last six months, I've cleared out a lot of stuff, physically ---by moving from two houses to one small cell and emotionally---by letting go of a life I've loved and all that entails---yet John prompts me to keep asking myself---"What is taking up too much room in me?" "What might new life look like for me, if I allow it to take root and flourish?" What might new life look like for you? What is taking up too much room in you?
If we're heading in the wrong direction, now is the time to turn around and change direction. John assures us that it is not too late to change so that we will not miss the new life that God is promising to birth in us. If we want God to come humanly, simply, into our lives, then we need to get ready. We need to prepare, to repent, to change.
John speaks uncomfortable words to us as we approach a season when we yearn to be comfortable. But only by following his example---by clearing a pathway out of the many things that dominate us—can we begin to prepare our hearts to receive the One who is to come.
+Amen.
West Park, NY
Robert Magliula, p/OHC
BCP – Advent 2 C - Sunday 03 December 2006
Baruch 5:1-9
Philippians 1:1-11
Luke 3:1-6
There is one kind of person society cannot figure out---and certainly cannot control. And that is an ascetic. Think about it. The wheel of culture is turned by business, education, family, government, and organized religion. These hold little or no interest for the ascetic. In all these areas that make up society, the ascetic is like a fish out of water.
He or she is not on a salary, and doesn’t need one. An ascetic is not much interested in marketing things or selling services for a profit or crunching numbers to reach a bottom line. Ascetics don’t care about living in a upscale community, driving a fancy car, or building a 401K account.
An ascetic might be educated, but generally could care less about being validated by an institution of higher learning. An ascetic has little need to be degreed. And when capital campaigns are launched by these educational institutions, ascetics aren’t among the hot prospects. An ascetic is not likely to be a cornerstone member of organized religion either. Not many have been interested throughout history in climbing an ecclesiastical ladder---Or supporting the ladder once they have climbed it.
Things like maintaining buildings and making budgets don’t appeal to them. They have little desire to win friends and influence people, so they are not apt to be in politics. They are not good at raising money. They could care less about taking polls, or making decisions around what they say. They don’t pay taxes because they have no money, and they are not big flag-wavers. Other matters claim their interest.
The gospel of Jesus begins with John the Baptist, and John was an ascetic. He wasn’t on a salary. He didn’t live in a comfortable house. He wasn’t a member of a family of four. He had no 401K plan or educational degrees. He did not belong to the temple religion. In fact he had some harsh things to say about it and its leaders. John was as apolitical as you can get. He drew crowds but had no capacity to tell people what they wanted to hear. Finally, his detachment from political concern led him to confront King Herod about his sex life---a decision which cost John his head.
How strange of God to begin the way of Christianity with this untamed and uncivilized man. How peculiar to begin our preparations for this coming season---this time in which commerce and education and politics and religion all cozy up together---with a focus on an ascetic from the Judean wilderness.
And yet, why not begin the cycle of preparation- incarnation-manifestation with John, whose only concern in life was to give voice to what God told him to say. To announce to the people what God was doing in the world, and to wake up the people and call them to respond to what God was doing.
Because John had cleared a wide pathway for God in his own life, the people could recognize the voice of God behind John’s own voice. He offered them the opportunity to get clean with God through his baptism of repentance. Through it, they would be prepared to receive the one more powerful than John.
Ascetics can’t be bought off, so they constitute living reminders that idolatry is not the way. They remind us that the world of commerce and government and education and family and religion---all the things that have such impact on our lives---are not ends in themselves. They exist to serve us; we are not to serve them. That place belongs only to God. John by his words and life make it clear that no human being or institution can take the place of God.
During Advent we are invited to let go, to open up---not to forsake the things we love and want for our lives, but to forsake them as idols. That means learning to hold them lightly, and to be willing to give them up when it becomes clear that they are taking up too much room. John stands before us, bold and loud, demanding that we check our spiritual compass. His witness and prodding certainly challenge me in this new chapter of my spiritual journey.
As my brothers can attest, in the last six months, I've cleared out a lot of stuff, physically ---by moving from two houses to one small cell and emotionally---by letting go of a life I've loved and all that entails---yet John prompts me to keep asking myself---"What is taking up too much room in me?" "What might new life look like for me, if I allow it to take root and flourish?" What might new life look like for you? What is taking up too much room in you?
If we're heading in the wrong direction, now is the time to turn around and change direction. John assures us that it is not too late to change so that we will not miss the new life that God is promising to birth in us. If we want God to come humanly, simply, into our lives, then we need to get ready. We need to prepare, to repent, to change.
John speaks uncomfortable words to us as we approach a season when we yearn to be comfortable. But only by following his example---by clearing a pathway out of the many things that dominate us—can we begin to prepare our hearts to receive the One who is to come.
+Amen.
BCP - Advent 1 C - 03 Dec 2006
Holy Cross Monastery,
West Park, NY
Brother Joseph Brown, n/OHC
BCP – Advent 1 C - Sunday 03 December 2006
Jeremiah 33: 14-16
1 Thessalonians 3: 9-13
Luke 21: 25-36
I was perusing the Internet for some insight into today’s readings and discovered that there are 1,753,566 hits for “Day of Judgment”. And since this is the start of the Holiday shopping season, I thought I would let you know that the Apocalypse is available at Wal-Mart for $19.95.
Today we mark the beginning of the liturgical year with the season of Advent-meaning "arrival."
This is a good time, then, to take stock of one's challenges and accomplishments, as well as how one has responded to the life of faith during the past year. It is a time to reflect on how one's faith was lived. Where did I fall short and what can I do about it? These are particularly challenging questions in light of the many events occurring in the world.
The apocalyptic language of today's readings seems to take on a heightened sense of prophecy given the frightening uncertainty stirred up by recent events. Terrorism, war, corporate corruption, the abandonment of peace as an option, and, for many, events of a more personal nature lead to the feeling that life today is neither safe nor secure. Yet, no matter where one finds oneself, one thing is certain: our hope is in the coming of the Word Made Flesh, Jesus the Christ. The readings for today speak of a future when, in the words of Luke, "you know that the kingdom of God is near." Here is /good news/ in a time of despondency.
Our first reading today is from the book of the prophet Zechariah. He was speaking to the people of Israel who had recently returned to their land. Zachariah believed that Israel stood at the eve of the messianic age and he encouraged the completion of the temple in preparation for the arrival of the Messiah. Zechariah delivered a message of hope to a group of dispirited people who felt they were about to face more difficult times. It is at bleak times like these that hope-filled prophesies of salvation are proclaimed by God's messengers. And so it was with Zechariah.
In his Gospel, Luke writes of a time when nations are perplexed at the signs in nature. When men faint "with fear and with foreboding of what is coming on the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken." The reading ends with the sprouting of the fig leaf as a sign of an upcoming summer-the season of growth and life and is in stark contrast to the dead of winter. In those times when life leaves us feeling hopeless, there can spring forth, like a fig leaf at the end of winter, new life.
In my own life, I experience times that are so devastating that it feels as if the sun and the moon, the very things we count on to be constant from day to day, and year to year begin to crumble and become dark. Fear and distress become my constant companions. I am tossed about by the waves of emotion. I feel as if all the powers of heaven were shaken, and that life has become so hopeless that only direct intervention from God could save it. The most devastating blow is that all I could “do” during these times was to trust in the faithfulness of God. But God, being God, would act in God’s time and in God’s place. All I could do was wait for the advent. Despair and hope go hand in hand, as do death and resurrection. Luke's gospel is one that includes the full despair of reality and the unflinching hope of faith. To quote John Colone “Faith is not a vaccine that prevents the disease of despair. Faith is the seed of new life, from which hope can grow out of a winter of anguish and desolation.”
Destruction-redemption, death-resurrection. Over time, I have learned to see the signs of an impending judgment day more clearly. When I am rocked by emotions, when I see the familiar supports no longer are working, when the rigidity of old ritual becomes brittle and is no longer capable of holding me up, I know (most of the time only in hindsight) that /_a_/ day of judgment is coming. I know my redemption is near. And I know that it will happen again and again and again.
But probably not in the way I expect. Israel was awaiting the warrior king, who would ascend to the throne of David and conquer the nations. He would be great in deeds of battle, ruling the nations with a rod of iron. The psalms we chant everyday are full of references to this great and terrible messiah who’s strength would break bars of iron and crush doors of bronze. Peoples would do him honor and service, and on the great day of his reign, blood would flow to avenge the righteous and destroy the wicked. This was what they expected and what they waited for it. They waited through the time of destruction. They waited through a second kingdom, and through exile to Babylon. And they waited. And God did act.
But the great warrior king was born in a cave amid animals, straw and filth. His kingdom was a backwaters patch of land called the Galilee. His mighty army was a band of uneducated, stubborn and uncouth day-laborers and tax-collectors. The people of his kingdom were the crippled, the blind, the hopeless and taboo. The only rod of iron he knew was the one used to strike him, the only bronze doors, those of Pilate’s palace when they closed behind him as he was led out to die. And somehow, in the bloody murder of a young man in Jerusalem, all was made right. God’s judgment came, but not is way that anyone would have expected. It came as vulnerability and compassion, perfect mercy and justice. Could God have acted more contrary to their expectation, to *_my_* expectation?
God’s intervention in my own life is never what I expect. My handbook of appropriate actions is too small. I can not see how the loss, grief and pain of a moment or of a season could be the in-breaking of God’s dominion. I feel only the darkness. But my faith, that sometimes tiny cinder of light, is there, waiting for the breathe of God to give it life. And all of this not for my own personal happiness, my own personal comfort, but to bring me to that most terrifying Kingdom of God’s love in my own heart.
A love that appreciates beauty, but does not have to own it. A love that cares more for the health and well-being of the other than the cost in time or effort. A kingdom love that showers the broken, the blind and even my enemies with a mercy that has no need of revenge or an evening up of accounts. A kingdom love that really believes that God’s love is so total and so expansive that there is enough for you and for me. A kingdom love that flows like living waters to the east and to the west, over all the earth. That knows no summer of uncontrolled passions or a winter of cold indifference. And on that day the Lord will be One, and we will be one with God.
This I believe is the message of the advent of God. This is God's call to us this Advent season. To hope against the darkness. To see in the chaos of the world and in the darkness of our own souls, that God is present and active. Dawn follows the night, summer follows winter and the smallest and dimmest of sparks can set the world ablaze.
In the name of Jesus Christ, who was and is and is yet to be. Amen.
West Park, NY
Brother Joseph Brown, n/OHC
BCP – Advent 1 C - Sunday 03 December 2006
Jeremiah 33: 14-16
1 Thessalonians 3: 9-13
Luke 21: 25-36
I was perusing the Internet for some insight into today’s readings and discovered that there are 1,753,566 hits for “Day of Judgment”. And since this is the start of the Holiday shopping season, I thought I would let you know that the Apocalypse is available at Wal-Mart for $19.95.
Today we mark the beginning of the liturgical year with the season of Advent-meaning "arrival."
This is a good time, then, to take stock of one's challenges and accomplishments, as well as how one has responded to the life of faith during the past year. It is a time to reflect on how one's faith was lived. Where did I fall short and what can I do about it? These are particularly challenging questions in light of the many events occurring in the world.
The apocalyptic language of today's readings seems to take on a heightened sense of prophecy given the frightening uncertainty stirred up by recent events. Terrorism, war, corporate corruption, the abandonment of peace as an option, and, for many, events of a more personal nature lead to the feeling that life today is neither safe nor secure. Yet, no matter where one finds oneself, one thing is certain: our hope is in the coming of the Word Made Flesh, Jesus the Christ. The readings for today speak of a future when, in the words of Luke, "you know that the kingdom of God is near." Here is /good news/ in a time of despondency.
Our first reading today is from the book of the prophet Zechariah. He was speaking to the people of Israel who had recently returned to their land. Zachariah believed that Israel stood at the eve of the messianic age and he encouraged the completion of the temple in preparation for the arrival of the Messiah. Zechariah delivered a message of hope to a group of dispirited people who felt they were about to face more difficult times. It is at bleak times like these that hope-filled prophesies of salvation are proclaimed by God's messengers. And so it was with Zechariah.
In his Gospel, Luke writes of a time when nations are perplexed at the signs in nature. When men faint "with fear and with foreboding of what is coming on the world, for the powers of the heavens will be shaken." The reading ends with the sprouting of the fig leaf as a sign of an upcoming summer-the season of growth and life and is in stark contrast to the dead of winter. In those times when life leaves us feeling hopeless, there can spring forth, like a fig leaf at the end of winter, new life.
In my own life, I experience times that are so devastating that it feels as if the sun and the moon, the very things we count on to be constant from day to day, and year to year begin to crumble and become dark. Fear and distress become my constant companions. I am tossed about by the waves of emotion. I feel as if all the powers of heaven were shaken, and that life has become so hopeless that only direct intervention from God could save it. The most devastating blow is that all I could “do” during these times was to trust in the faithfulness of God. But God, being God, would act in God’s time and in God’s place. All I could do was wait for the advent. Despair and hope go hand in hand, as do death and resurrection. Luke's gospel is one that includes the full despair of reality and the unflinching hope of faith. To quote John Colone “Faith is not a vaccine that prevents the disease of despair. Faith is the seed of new life, from which hope can grow out of a winter of anguish and desolation.”
Destruction-redemption, death-resurrection. Over time, I have learned to see the signs of an impending judgment day more clearly. When I am rocked by emotions, when I see the familiar supports no longer are working, when the rigidity of old ritual becomes brittle and is no longer capable of holding me up, I know (most of the time only in hindsight) that /_a_/ day of judgment is coming. I know my redemption is near. And I know that it will happen again and again and again.
But probably not in the way I expect. Israel was awaiting the warrior king, who would ascend to the throne of David and conquer the nations. He would be great in deeds of battle, ruling the nations with a rod of iron. The psalms we chant everyday are full of references to this great and terrible messiah who’s strength would break bars of iron and crush doors of bronze. Peoples would do him honor and service, and on the great day of his reign, blood would flow to avenge the righteous and destroy the wicked. This was what they expected and what they waited for it. They waited through the time of destruction. They waited through a second kingdom, and through exile to Babylon. And they waited. And God did act.
But the great warrior king was born in a cave amid animals, straw and filth. His kingdom was a backwaters patch of land called the Galilee. His mighty army was a band of uneducated, stubborn and uncouth day-laborers and tax-collectors. The people of his kingdom were the crippled, the blind, the hopeless and taboo. The only rod of iron he knew was the one used to strike him, the only bronze doors, those of Pilate’s palace when they closed behind him as he was led out to die. And somehow, in the bloody murder of a young man in Jerusalem, all was made right. God’s judgment came, but not is way that anyone would have expected. It came as vulnerability and compassion, perfect mercy and justice. Could God have acted more contrary to their expectation, to *_my_* expectation?
God’s intervention in my own life is never what I expect. My handbook of appropriate actions is too small. I can not see how the loss, grief and pain of a moment or of a season could be the in-breaking of God’s dominion. I feel only the darkness. But my faith, that sometimes tiny cinder of light, is there, waiting for the breathe of God to give it life. And all of this not for my own personal happiness, my own personal comfort, but to bring me to that most terrifying Kingdom of God’s love in my own heart.
A love that appreciates beauty, but does not have to own it. A love that cares more for the health and well-being of the other than the cost in time or effort. A kingdom love that showers the broken, the blind and even my enemies with a mercy that has no need of revenge or an evening up of accounts. A kingdom love that really believes that God’s love is so total and so expansive that there is enough for you and for me. A kingdom love that flows like living waters to the east and to the west, over all the earth. That knows no summer of uncontrolled passions or a winter of cold indifference. And on that day the Lord will be One, and we will be one with God.
This I believe is the message of the advent of God. This is God's call to us this Advent season. To hope against the darkness. To see in the chaos of the world and in the darkness of our own souls, that God is present and active. Dawn follows the night, summer follows winter and the smallest and dimmest of sparks can set the world ablaze.
In the name of Jesus Christ, who was and is and is yet to be. Amen.
Monday, December 11, 2006
RCL – Advent 1 C - 03 Dec 2006
Christ Episcopal Church, King and Queen Parish, Chaptico, MD
Sermon by Brother Joseph Brown, n/OHC
RCL – Advent 1 C - Sunday 03 December 2006
Jeremiah 33: 14-16
Psalm 25: 1-9
1 Thessalonians 3: 9-13
Luke 21: 25-36
*****
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O Eternal One.
(adaptation from Ps 19: 14)
*****
Let us pray:
Christ was born. Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again.
Amen.
I added the first term to this well known memorial prayer. The liturgical period of Advent (which we start today) focuses on the beginning and on the end of this short memorial prayer; Christ was born, on the one hand, and Christ will come again, on the other.
The birth of Jesus is what we celebrate at Christmas. Yes, yes, despite all the hoopla around us; that still is what Christmas is about! The future return of Jesus is a hope we hold as Christians for all of humanity. It is often referred to as the Parousia, or the Second Coming. And both of these occurences, the birth of Christ and the Parousia, are transformative events.
Through the incarnation of God, we were made whole; we were healed; we were saved. The incarnation made us children of God by adoption.
Through the Parousia, we hope to further be redeemed. Let me tell you more about these two words I just used here: “Parousia” and “to be redeemed” or “Redemption”.
Parousia comes from the Greek language. In the antiquity, it referred to the appearance of a king or a queen and to their subsequent presence with the people on an official visit. So the hope of Parousia is for Jesus and all of humanity to be together again, in a very tangible way. Christ the King will visit and tarry with his people.
And in this being together again, we hope to receive our redemption from God. The words used in the original gospel for “redemption” are the ones that were used to indicate the change in status of a slave made into a free person.
We have to remember how much of a transformation this was at the time of the gospel being written. Slaves were seen as belongings rather than persons. In many ways, they were considered like cattle. In redeeming a slave, a person buying the slave’s freedom was turning the slave into a person, a free person.
So, despite all the awe-inspiring signs (dare I say, the distracting signs?), the important message in today’s apocalyptic passage is that God is coming back to dwell with us, with all of us.
And this novel reality will transform us beyond what we know and understand now; we will be redeemed into something new. It will be so new that it will feel like the end of the reality we know now.
What is promised in this Gospel is nothing less than an end to our current nature and a profound transformation.
Call that an end of the world if you want to, but don’t ask me what, when or how, I don’t know… Jesus himself cautions us that no one knows the time but our heavenly Father. All I can do about knowing the Parousia is marvel at how incredibly marvelous it will be!
So Advent opens our liturgical year with a period of four weeks of preparation for the celebration of the Incarnation; God once already came to live among us; as one of us.
But beyond Christmas, Advent aims at reminding us that our whole lives are a preparation for the return of Jesus amongst us.
The gospel text of today tries to convey this message in apocalyptic style. Remember that apocalypse means “unveiling, revelation of a truth”. The apocalyptic literary genre, used in many books throughout the bible, makes use of tremendous and frightening images to convey its message.
Often this language is used to help the current underdog. It depicts the come-uppance of the wicked at the hand of an unsurpassable power. That is a rhetorical temptation that many bible scribes were unable to resist in order to boost morale amongst the marginal, exploited and hurt audience they were writing for.
Our passage from the Gospel according to Luke is no different and it probably rang a tone of truth to Luke’s contemporaries while taking a jibe at roman power. Many of Jesus’ followers had experienced worldview-crushing events. Many of them still saw themselves as belonging to the Jewish tradition. And while hoping for Jesus’ return in their lifetime, they had witnessed the crushing defeat of a Jewish rebellion against the Roman empire, the dissemination of the Jews away from Jerusalem and the destruction of the temple at Jerusalem. The world in many ways may have felt like it was ending for them. They needed to hear that, in the midst of all this havoc, there was still hope.
And that’s what the apocalyptic genre delivers. It describes a world in the throes of terrible happenings while telling of an ultimately hopeful resolution. An apocalypse is the unveiling of a thrilling truth: a truth that leaves you quivering with excitement and anticipation.
Now excitement is something all of our media try to boost in us around what is called “the Holidays Season” but not in a hopeful sense. Christmas and the Parousia are events that have been highly stylized by our popular culture. It has become difficult for us Christians to disentangle ourselves from the media soundtrack on these two events. The Christmas soundtrack runs something like this; good, warm, happy, ho-ho-ho! The Second Coming soundtrack is more like that; awe-inspiring, bone-crushing and dangerous.
Now there is plenty in scripture to support such visions on Christmas and Parousia. In a couple of weeks or so, our lectionary will start to have the tone of a celebration in commemoration of Jesus’ birth.
For a couple of weeks now, we have had readings that refer to the Parousia or to the Second Coming. A casual listening to these readings can yield an alarmist and catastrophic sensation. And taken literally, parts of these readings may work on that level. But now you know to look deeper than just the signs, no matter how ominous they may be.
Jesus exhorts us in today’s Gospel to be watchful, to be vigilant in order to be ready for the transformation of Parousia. We are not told to rest on our laurels of self-righteous Christians. Yes we are saved; we are made whole by the life, death and resurrection of Jesus.
And yet, that does not exempt us from the work of co-creating the Kingdom of God, here and now. God is here, God is with us. The Kingdom of God is at hand. Jesus keeps telling us so throughout his ministry.
The hope of Parousia is that God’s presence will become universally evident and inescapable. That’s very good news indeed.
And as Saint Paul prayed for the Thessalonians, let us pray for ourselves and for the world:
“…may the Lord make you increase and abound in love for one another and for all, just as we abound in love for you. And may he so strengthen your hearts in holiness that you may be blameless before our God and Father at the coming of our Lord Jesus with all his saints.”
Amen.
*****
Come Lord Jesus, come. Amen.
Sermon by Brother Joseph Brown, n/OHC
RCL – Advent 1 C - Sunday 03 December 2006
Jeremiah 33: 14-16
Psalm 25: 1-9
1 Thessalonians 3: 9-13
Luke 21: 25-36
*****
May the words of my mouth and the meditations of all our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O Eternal One.
(adaptation from Ps 19: 14)
*****
Let us pray:
Christ was born. Christ has died. Christ is risen. Christ will come again.
Amen.
I added the first term to this well known memorial prayer. The liturgical period of Advent (which we start today) focuses on the beginning and on the end of this short memorial prayer; Christ was born, on the one hand, and Christ will come again, on the other.
The birth of Jesus is what we celebrate at Christmas. Yes, yes, despite all the hoopla around us; that still is what Christmas is about! The future return of Jesus is a hope we hold as Christians for all of humanity. It is often referred to as the Parousia, or the Second Coming. And both of these occurences, the birth of Christ and the Parousia, are transformative events.
Through the incarnation of God, we were made whole; we were healed; we were saved. The incarnation made us children of God by adoption.
Through the Parousia, we hope to further be redeemed. Let me tell you more about these two words I just used here: “Parousia” and “to be redeemed” or “Redemption”.
Parousia comes from the Greek language. In the antiquity, it referred to the appearance of a king or a queen and to their subsequent presence with the people on an official visit. So the hope of Parousia is for Jesus and all of humanity to be together again, in a very tangible way. Christ the King will visit and tarry with his people.
And in this being together again, we hope to receive our redemption from God. The words used in the original gospel for “redemption” are the ones that were used to indicate the change in status of a slave made into a free person.
We have to remember how much of a transformation this was at the time of the gospel being written. Slaves were seen as belongings rather than persons. In many ways, they were considered like cattle. In redeeming a slave, a person buying the slave’s freedom was turning the slave into a person, a free person.
So, despite all the awe-inspiring signs (dare I say, the distracting signs?), the important message in today’s apocalyptic passage is that God is coming back to dwell with us, with all of us.
And this novel reality will transform us beyond what we know and understand now; we will be redeemed into something new. It will be so new that it will feel like the end of the reality we know now.
What is promised in this Gospel is nothing less than an end to our current nature and a profound transformation.
Call that an end of the world if you want to, but don’t ask me what, when or how, I don’t know… Jesus himself cautions us that no one knows the time but our heavenly Father. All I can do about knowing the Parousia is marvel at how incredibly marvelous it will be!
So Advent opens our liturgical year with a period of four weeks of preparation for the celebration of the Incarnation; God once already came to live among us; as one of us.
But beyond Christmas, Advent aims at reminding us that our whole lives are a preparation for the return of Jesus amongst us.
The gospel text of today tries to convey this message in apocalyptic style. Remember that apocalypse means “unveiling, revelation of a truth”. The apocalyptic literary genre, used in many books throughout the bible, makes use of tremendous and frightening images to convey its message.
Often this language is used to help the current underdog. It depicts the come-uppance of the wicked at the hand of an unsurpassable power. That is a rhetorical temptation that many bible scribes were unable to resist in order to boost morale amongst the marginal, exploited and hurt audience they were writing for.
Our passage from the Gospel according to Luke is no different and it probably rang a tone of truth to Luke’s contemporaries while taking a jibe at roman power. Many of Jesus’ followers had experienced worldview-crushing events. Many of them still saw themselves as belonging to the Jewish tradition. And while hoping for Jesus’ return in their lifetime, they had witnessed the crushing defeat of a Jewish rebellion against the Roman empire, the dissemination of the Jews away from Jerusalem and the destruction of the temple at Jerusalem. The world in many ways may have felt like it was ending for them. They needed to hear that, in the midst of all this havoc, there was still hope.
And that’s what the apocalyptic genre delivers. It describes a world in the throes of terrible happenings while telling of an ultimately hopeful resolution. An apocalypse is the unveiling of a thrilling truth: a truth that leaves you quivering with excitement and anticipation.
Now excitement is something all of our media try to boost in us around what is called “the Holidays Season” but not in a hopeful sense. Christmas and the Parousia are events that have been highly stylized by our popular culture. It has become difficult for us Christians to disentangle ourselves from the media soundtrack on these two events. The Christmas soundtrack runs something like this; good, warm, happy, ho-ho-ho! The Second Coming soundtrack is more like that; awe-inspiring, bone-crushing and dangerous.
Now there is plenty in scripture to support such visions on Christmas and Parousia. In a couple of weeks or so, our lectionary will start to have the tone of a celebration in commemoration of Jesus’ birth.
For a couple of weeks now, we have had readings that refer to the Parousia or to the Second Coming. A casual listening to these readings can yield an alarmist and catastrophic sensation. And taken literally, parts of these readings may work on that level. But now you know to look deeper than just the signs, no matter how ominous they may be.
Jesus exhorts us in today’s Gospel to be watchful, to be vigilant in order to be ready for the transformation of Parousia. We are not told to rest on our laurels of self-righteous Christians. Yes we are saved; we are made whole by the life, death and resurrection of Jesus.
And yet, that does not exempt us from the work of co-creating the Kingdom of God, here and now. God is here, God is with us. The Kingdom of God is at hand. Jesus keeps telling us so throughout his ministry.
The hope of Parousia is that God’s presence will become universally evident and inescapable. That’s very good news indeed.
And as Saint Paul prayed for the Thessalonians, let us pray for ourselves and for the world:
“…may the Lord make you increase and abound in love for one another and for all, just as we abound in love for you. And may he so strengthen your hearts in holiness that you may be blameless before our God and Father at the coming of our Lord Jesus with all his saints.”
Amen.
*****
Come Lord Jesus, come. Amen.
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