Part of a new family

FIRST SUNDAY AFTER CHRISTMAS

(Christmas Sunday)

Readings:

Galatians 4:1-7

Luke 2:(25-)33-40

Key Verses (using the World English Bible):

Gal. 4:1-2: “So long as the heir is a child, he is no different from a bondservant, though he is lord of all; but is under guardians and stewards until the day appointed by his father.”

Luke 2:34-35: Simeon said to Mary, “Behold, this child is set for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and for a sign which is spoken against.  Yes, a sword will pierce through your own soul, that the thoughts of many hearts may be revealed.”

Reflection

A few weeks ago, a video began to circulate on my Facebook page: “He saved 669 children during the Holocaust… and he doesn’t know they’re sitting next to him.” You may have seen it, too.  It’s the story of a man named Nicholas Winton who, at the dawn of World War II, was responsible for the evacuation of 669 Jewish children out of Nazi Germany’s grip, and their relocation to foster families in Great Britain.

Besides those with whom he worked, Mr. Winton never told anyone—not even his wife.  Then fifty years later, in 1988, she found a scrapbook with the list of those children.  That same year, the BBC show “That’s Life!” staged a surprise reunion between Mr. Winton and all the children he saved—the clip above.

Children are some of the most helpless and vulnerable people in our human family.  They must live under the guardianship of grown-ups, looking to them for guidance, example, and care, until their appointed day of adulthood. And, as in Nazi Germany, not every grown-up has the best intentions for the next generation.  Not even Christmas ignores this harsh reality.  Even as we receive the Christ-child with glad tidings of joy and peace, this sacred season also includes the tale of innocent children, pierced by the swords of a paranoid and power-hungry king Herod; a tale which sadly refuses to stay in the past.

But, for me, there’s a lesson in these two opposing sides of Christmas, in which moments of profound elation and of unimaginable horror co-exist.  For the central teaching of the Incarnation is that, somehow, God entered into our world just as it is, and just as we do, as a helpless and vulnerable child.  It’s a message of hope, a reminder that, as James Dillet Freeman wrote during World War II, “wherever you are, God is”.  Our lives are always in the hands of him who gave us life, and who came to share in our life, to give us new life, to be an example of how to really live, and what to live for.

Sir Nicholas Winton not only saved the lives of 669 would-be victims of the Holocaust—he also, you might say, gave them new life.  He became their new father, and, as one of the saved children remarked on the show, “We are part of his family.” But at the same time, the children’s recognition of Winton’s deeds in turn gave him a new life, one of fulfilled purpose and meaning.  Don’t we all want to know our lives had a purpose, that we lived for something?  How would we look at our lives if we knew exactly what that was?  How would we live from that moment on?  I think that’s what it must be like to be “born again”.  And that’s exactly what Christmas needs to be to us—not just the solemn remembrance of a life born 2000 years ago, but also the promise of a new birth, being born again into a new way of living as God’s people, God's family; a way that over and over again is ours for the taking, if only we let it in.

Prayer of the Day

Almighty and everlasting God,

direct all our actions according to your good pleasure,

that, in the Name of your beloved Son,

we may be deemed worthy to abound in all good works;

through the same Jesus Christ, your Son, our Lord,

who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,

one God forever and ever.

Amen.

—Adapted from the Collects of the “Sixth Day from Christmas” in The Sarum Missal (1868), and the “Sunday within the Octave of Christmas” in The Roman Breviary (1879)

Or,

Almighty God,

you have poured upon us

the new light of your incarnate Word.

Grant that this light,

enkindled in our hearts,

may shine forth in our lives;

through Jesus Christ our Lord,

who lives and reigns with you,

in the unity of the Holy Spirit,

one God, now and for ever.

Amen.

—From the Collect of the First Sunday after Christmas Day in the Book of Common Prayer, 1979

Hymn: “Let the earth now praise the Lord”

(Words: “Gott sei Dank durch alle Welt”, Heinrich Held, 1620-1659; translated to English by Catherine Winkworth, 1863; adapted by Joseph A. Soltero, 2014)

Tune: ‘Posen’, by Georg Christoph Strattner, 1691)

Let the earth now praise the Lord,

Who has truly kept his word,

And at last to us did send

Christ, the sinner’s help and friend.

What the fathers most desired,

What the prophets’ heart inspired,

What they longed for many a year

Stands fulfilled in glory here.

Welcome, O my Savior, now!

Joyful, Lord, to you I bow.

Come into my heart, I pray,

You yourself prepare the way!

King of glory, enter in,

Cleanse my heart from guilt and sin,

Save me, I am yours alone,

And my heart is yours to own.

Be my comfort, strength, and cheer.

Set me free from doubt and fear.

Let me cling to you in faith,

Safely kept through life and death.

Then when you will come again,

As the glorious King to reign,

I with joy may see your face,

Freely ransomed by your grace.

"Rejoice... Again, I say, rejoice!"

FOURTH SUNDAY OF ADVENT

Readings:

Philippians 4:4-9

Luke 1:26-38

Key Verses (using the World English Bible):

Php. 4:4-5: “Rejoice in the Lord always! Again I will say, ‘Rejoice!’ Let your gentleness be known to all… The Lord is at hand.”

Luke 1:28: “The angel [Gabriel] said to [Mary], ‘Rejoice, you high favored one! The Lord is with you. Blessed are you among women!”

Reflection

The Annunciation has to be one of our most familiar stories.  We hear it at least once a year around this time—maybe a second time during Lent, when the Feast of the Annunciation officially falls.  The Angel Gabriel’s greeting to Mary has worked its way into popular devotions such as the Catholic rosary, as well as the Orthodox mystical poem, “Salutation to the Mother of God” (aka, “Akathist to the Theotokos”).

No matter how many times I hear it, I always find this story profound and humbling.  A large part of it is because Mary, in her humility and respect, reminds me so much of my own mother.  But a larger part is because the Annunciation narrative weaves together themes of promises about to be fulfilled, of age-old burdens being lightened, of God about to work in the world in a direct, visible, and even tangible way.  And I know that’s something that all of us who seek God yearn for deep in our hearts.  It’s a yearning that comes from the knowledge that the world is not okay, and that only something larger than we are can make it right.

And, up to this point, Advent has called us to live in that yearning, by summoning us to be watchful, to repent, to cast off sin and darkness, and to forgive—but now, on this Sunday before the coming of the Christ-child, it calls us to rejoice.  Note how Scripture is quick to make a connection between the arrival of the Lord and joy.  Gabriel’s first words to Mary are: “Rejoice… the Lord is with you!”  And Paul reminds—you might even say commands—us to “Rejoice in the Lord always!  Again I will say, ‘Rejoice!’… the Lord is at hand.”  God’s presence, God’s nearness, “God-With-Us” should, and must, always be a cause of joyous celebration.

This is such an important connection to make because it’s so easy to forget.  Even in the Bible, manifestations of God to his people are almost always accompanied by fear and guilt, even dejection and unworthiness—and that’s natural.  It’s all too human to fear and flee from what we can’t understand, from what’s larger than life.

But what if we looked at it from Mary’s angle?  Most us just hear the story, but we must also “be doers of the word, and not only hearers”.  Do put yourself into the narrative.  That angelic greeting wasn’t just for her—it’s for you, too.  Consider “what kind of salutation this might be”: the Creator of all things, the Beginning and End of all that is; the eternal One of infinite power and wisdom, whose very name means “causing to exist”—that God, for no other reason except love, wants to be with you; to come into your life and live it as you do; to be born into your heart, and to be born(e) by you into the hearts of others.  God is inviting you to participate in an unbroken, unceasing chain of existence, forever flowing into and out of itself through all that’s ever lived, through all that even now is alive.  Is that what it means to be “full of grace”?  To be “overshadowed” by the Most High?  With such a salutation, how can there be room in the inn for anything else except joy?

Like Mary, though, we too have to say yes.  We have to choose to receive God; God will never push himself on us.  But the good news of Christmas is that we have that choice every day.  Every day, we can receive God into our being, and be transformed into a living manifestation of everything that God stands for.  And when we do, the God of peace, with whom nothing is impossible, will indeed be with us forever.

Prayer of the Day

O Lord, we pray you,

raise up your power, and come among us,

and with great might, come to our aid;

that, whereas through our sins and wickedness,

we are sorely hindered in running the race set before us,

your bountiful grace and mercy

may speedily help and deliver us;

through the satisfaction of your Son, Jesus Christ our Lord,

to whom with you and the Holy Spirit,

be honor and glory,

forever and ever.

Amen.

(From the Book of Common Prayer, 1662;

used for Advent 3 in the 1979 edition)

Or,

Waken our hearts, O Lord,

so that we may prepare the way for your only-begotten Son.

Graciously keep us in your service,

and cleanse our hearts for his coming;

through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen.

(From the Lund Missal, 1514, Advent 2;

translation by Joseph A. Soltero)

Hymn: “Rejoice, rejoice in God the Lord”

(Words: ‘Op glædes alle, glædes nu’, by Thomas Kingo, 1689; translated from Danish by Joseph A. Soltero, 2014

Tune: ‘Alt, hvad som fuglevinger fik’, by Thomas Laub, 1915)

Rejoice, rejoice in God the Lord,

Arise and sing with one accord,

The dawn yourself awaken!

For God the Son again comes near,

And, as in love he holds us dear,

Our human form has taken.

Away with gloom! Away with sin!

The joy of God now we let in,

As we embrace our Jesus

In prayer of heart, in thanks of soul;

In Christ is all our hope made whole,

The hope which ever frees us.

The peace, O God, you freely give,

With open hearts may we receive,

And there to leave us never,

That in your Son we may abide

On this and every Christmastide

With joy that lasts forever.

 Or, “O come, O come, Emmanuel”

(Words: “Veni, veni, Emmanuel”, 12^th cent.; English translation by John M. Neale, 1851; Adapted by Joseph A. Soltero, 2014)

Tune: ‘Veni Emmanuel’, 15^th cent., French Franciscan processional )

O come, O come, Emmanuel,

And ransom captive Israel,

That mourns in lonely exile here

Until the Son of God appear.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel

Shall come to you, O Israel!

O come, O Wisdom from on high,

Who order all things far and nigh,

To us the path of knowledge show,

And teach us in her ways to go.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel

Shall come to you, O Israel!

O come, O come, great Lord of might,

Who to your tribes at Sinai’s height

In ancient times once gave the law

In cloud, and majesty, and awe.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel

Shall come to you, O Israel!

O come, O Root of Jesse’s tree,

Free them from Satan’s tyranny

That trust your mighty power to save,

And give them victory o’er the grave.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel

Shall come to you, O Israel!

O come, O Key of David, come,

And open wide our heav’nly home.

The way above make safe and free,

And close the path to misery.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel

Shall come to you, O Israel!

O come, O Day-spring, come and cheer

Our spirits by your advent here.

Disperse the gloomy clouds of night,

And death’s dark shadows put to flight.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel

Shall come to you, O Israel!

O come, Desire of nations, bind

In one the hearts of humankind.

O bid our sad divisions cease,

And be yourself our King of peace.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel

Shall come to you, O Israel!

O come, O come, Emmanuel,

And ransom captive Israel,

That mourns in lonely exile here

Until the Son of God appear.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel

Shall come to you, O Israel!

Sunday of NO Judgment

THIRD SUNDAY OF ADVENT

Readings:

1 Corinthians 4:1-5

Matthew 11:2-10

Key Verses (using the World English Bible):

1 Cor. 4:3b-5: “With me it is a very small thing that I should be judged by you, or by [human] judgment.  Yes, I don’t judge my own self.  For I know nothing against myself.  Yet I am not justified by this, but he who judges me is the Lord.  Therefore judge nothing before the time, until the Lord comes…” 

Matt. 11:2-3: “When John heard in the prison the works of Christ, he… said to him, ‘Are you he who comes, or should we look for another?”

Reflection

It is the Third Sunday of Advent.  That means we’re halfway through the season, halfway closer to Christmas.

Traditionally, this Sunday is known as “Refreshment Sunday”, because today the rules of fasting and abstinence were relaxed.  If this sounds a little bit like Lent to you, specifically like the Fourth Sunday in Lent, I assure you that the parallel is most likely on purpose.  The early Church found it appropriate to introduce the “Time of the Coming” to await Christ’s birth, and the “Time of the Forty [Days]” to prepare for his resurrection.  To underscore the relationship and similarity between these two seasons of self-examination and penitence, their liturgical color is purple—except today, when rose may be used.

Most of us associate words like “penitence” or “abstinence” with a kind of “timed” guilt, the imposed obligation to feel sorry for the wrong we’ve done, the forced reminder that we can, and should, do better.  Maybe some years, we really and sincerely feel these things.  Maybe other years, it’s more like a chore, and we just go through the motions, anxious to skip ahead to the joy of Christmas or Easter.  Maybe in most years, we question the need for these times of reflection.  After all, what good is it to feel sorry for yourself, to berate yourself for natural human imperfection, to brood over our mistakes, when a little more “positive thinking” may be more productive?

Advent—along with Lent—can be many of these things, but Paul reminds us today of one thing it must never be.  As a servant of Christ, and a “steward” of God’s mysteries, Paul tells the Church of Corinth that he is not subject to any human judgment, including—remarkably—his own:  “I don’t judge my own self.  For I know nothing against myself.”  Really, Paul?  Not judging himself is one thing, but not knowing anything against himself is another.

Paul has many things that could be brought against him.  I don’t think he’s trying to cover them up here, though, because he wasn’t afraid to admit some of them to another church.  To the Galatian Church, Paul confesses that he once “persecuted the assembly of God, and ravaged it” (Gal. 1:13).  Luke adds in the Book of Acts, that Paul was present at the stoning of the first Christian martyr, Stephen, keeping watch over the cloaks of those killing him—and that Paul approved!  Paul also confesses to the Galatians (Gal. 2:11-14) how he called out the Apostle Peter on his “hypocrisy” in front of everyone—“resisted him to his face”, as Paul puts it almost smugly—probably not the most Christian way to handle a disagreement.

We’ve all wronged someone at one time or another, and yes, we should feel sorry about that.  But we’re called to never pronounce judgment on ourselves, because when we do that, we inevitably sentence ourselves to that same prison that John found himself in—a prison of doubt and fear; a prison where he forgot how one day the heavens were opened, and a voice declared that he had just met God’s beloved Son.  Judgment, Paul says, belongs to that same beloved Son, not to us.  Now, of course, mastering the art of forgiving ourselves does not free us of God’s judgment.  But that’s precisely Paul’s point.  We confess a God of mercy, whose judgment therefore will always be merciful, whereas our judgment is inclined to be merciless, especially towards ourselves.  I think Paul realized this when he considered that, after all the wrongs he had done, God still called on him.  No wonder he later tells the Corinthians to “be imitators of me, even as I also am of Christ” (1 Cor. 11:1).  It’s not hubris—it’s sobering advice from firsthand experience.

Our liturgy can be filled with some of the most beautiful and poetic words of self-deprecation that you will ever read.  But I don’t think it’s an accident that these readings were long ago selected for “Refreshment Sunday”.  If, as Whitney Houston once sang, “learning to love yourself is the greatest love of all”, then not judging oneself is probably the hardest way to get to that love.  But Advent reminds us that we can in fact do just that.  And that is very refreshing indeed.

Prayer of the Day

O Lord Jesus Christ,

at your first coming, you sent your messenger

to prepare the way before you.

Grant that the ministers and stewards of your mysteries

may likewise make ready your way,

by turning the hearts of the disobedient

to the wisdom of the just,

so that, when you judge the world at your second coming,

we may be found an acceptable people in your sight;

you who live and reign with the Father and Holy Spirit,

one God, forever and ever.

Or,

O Lord, we pray you,

arise in your might and come.

Summon your strength,

hasten to our rescue,

and assist us with your grace,

for we are immersed in sin without escape.

Look gently upon us in your forbearance,

so that once again we can live, move, and have our being;

through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen.

(From the Lund Missal, 1514, Advent 4;

translation by Joseph A. Soltero)

Hymn: “On Jordan’s bank, the Baptist’s cry”

(Words: Latin “Jordanis oras praevia”, Charles Coffin, 1676-1749; translated to English by Charles Winfred Douglas, 1867-1944, after John Chandler, 1806-1876; adapted by Joseph A. Soltero 2013

Tune: ‘Winchester New’, melody from Musicalisches Hand-Buch, 1690; harmony by William Henry Monk, 1823–1889)

On Jordan’s bank, the Baptist’s cry

Announces that the Lord is nigh.

Awake and hearken, for he brings

Glad tidings of the King of kings.

Then cleansed be every soul from sin,

Make straight the way for God within,

And let each heart prepare a home

Where such a mighty guest may come.

For you are our salvation, Lord,

Our refuge and our great reward.

Without your grace, we waste away

Like flowers that wither and decay.

To heal the sick, stretch out your hand,

And bid the fallen sinner stand.

Shine forth, and let your light restore

Earth’s own true loveliness once more.

To you, eternal Son, praise be:

Your advent sets your people free,

Whom with the Father we adore,

And with the Spirit evermore.

Amen.

We are sheep

SECOND SUNDAY OF ADVENT

Readings:

Romans 15:4-13

Luke 21:25-36

Key Verses (using the World English Bible):

Rom. 15:7: “Accept one another, even as Christ also accepted you, to the glory of God.”

Luke 21:33: “Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will by no means pass away.”

Reflection

“The Pope is shepherd of his flock.

What animal does that make his followers?  Sheep.

What’s the dumbest animal in the country?  Sheep.

I rest my case.”

These words greeted me on my morning subway commute to church about three weeks ago.

I had been reciting the Daily Office, as I usually try to do on the train, headphones on, no music, because I find it keeps my mind from being distracted by others’ conversations, and the like.  I barely noticed the two older gentlemen and one woman with them who got on and sat down near me, much less what they were talking about.

The whole weekend, I had been thinking about what to write for this blog (you can see I try to plan ahead), and then, out of the blue, as if by design, the words above are what instantly and clearly stuck out at me in their entirety as they were spoken.  Pretending not to have heard him, however, I finished Morning Prayer, but definitely not with the same level of concentration and openness with which I started.

Now did that man, roughly twice my age in his 60s, say that purposely so I would hear?  I mean, if you come in and sit down near someone reading to himself from a gilded Book of Common Prayer/NRSV Bible combo, it’s pretty obvious what he’s doing.  Maybe my headphones threw him off, and he thought he could covertly make fun of me to his companions.

But he definitely got one thing right.  We are sheep.  His reference to the Roman Catholic Pope notwithstanding, all Christians confess Christ as our Good Shepherd.  And we’re not the only ones in a metaphoric pasture. “The Lord is my shepherd, I shall not want” is as much a treasured part of the Jewish faith, as it is of ours.  But just what are we saying when we call on the Lord as our Shepherd?  What kind of God are we confessing?

Today’s reading from Paul’s Letter to the Romans gives us a clear answer.  Note how, each time Paul refers to God, he’s quick to add a descriptive attribute: “the God of patience”, “of encouragement”, “the God of hope”, and “the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ”, that is to say, the Father of our Good Shepherd.  And that Shepherd, Paul continues, accepted us just as we are, becoming, of all things, a servant (in Greek, a “minister”)—not just for his own people back then, but for all people, for all time; “to the glory of God”, “for the truth of God”, “for his mercy”, for “joy and peace in believing”, for not just any hope, but for abundant hope.  And for all of these reasons, Paul calls us to follow Christ’s example and “accept one another”.

The man on the train left me with a whole range of emotions: anger, sadness, discomfort, but I mostly remember the sense of inferiority and worthlessness.  I did not feel patience, encouragement, hope, joy, nor peace.  I felt someone who smugly believed with his whole heart that he was better than me, than any person of faith.  And that's not the kind of life I want to lead; that’s not the kind of image I want to project to others.  God knows the Church, his flock, is not immune from that kind of holier-than-thou attitude.  But as this Advent season prepares us once again to receive our Savior, who came to us in humility, poverty, and even persecution, let us try to come back to the people God has called us to be.  Let us take last week’s “Christmas list”, and really reflect on the kind of God we’re confessing to our neighbor and to ourselves, so that when Christ is born again into our hearts, the God of hope may indeed fill us with all joy, peace, and abundant hope, in the power of the Holy Spirit.

Prayer of the Day

Blessed Lord,

you caused all holy Scriptures to be written for our learning.

Grant us so to hear, read, mark, learn, and inwardly digest them,

so that by the patience and comfort of your holy Word,

we may embrace and ever hold fast

the blessed hope of everlasting life,

which you have given us in our Savior Jesus Christ,

[who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,

one God forever and ever.]

Amen.

(The Book of Common Prayer, 1662)

Or,

Almighty God,

grant that your grace may always precede and follow us,

so that, with the coming of your only-begotten Son,

the chief desire of our hearts,

we may obtain from you

refuge in the present life and in the life to come;

through Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen.

(Gelasian Sacramentary, 5^th century,

used for Advent 1; translated by Joseph A. Soltero)

Hymn: “Prepare the way, O Zion”

(Words: Frans Mikael Franzen, 19^th century; translation adapted by Charles P. Price, 20^th cent, and by Joseph A. Soltero, 21^st cent.

Tune: ‘‘Bereden väg för Herran’, from Then Swenska Psalmboken, 1697)

Prepare the way, O Zion,

Your Christ is drawing near!

In every hill and valley,

A level way appear.

Greet One who comes in glory,

Foretold in sacred story.

Oh, blest is Christ that came

In God’s most holy name!

He brings God’s rule, O Zion.

He comes from heaven above.

His rule is peace, and freedom,

And justice, truth, and love.

Lift high your praise resounding,

For grace and joy abounding.

Oh, blest is Christ that came

In God’s most holy name!

Fling wide your gates, O Zion,

Your Savior’s rule embrace.

His tidings of salvation,

Proclaim in every place.

All lands will bow before him,

Their voices will adore him.

Oh, blest is Christ that came

In God’s most holy name!