3 Epiphany

 

January 21, 2024

Mark 1.14-20

 + A few weeks ago I mentioned that I am shocked and appalled by the rise of antisemitism in this country and the world.

 I also said that it was something that I simply did not understand.

 I do not understand how Christians, who follow and worship the Jewish Son of God can be antisemitic.

 By doing so, we essentially deny everything about who we are and where we came from.

 It is important for all of us to view our Christian faith with a Jewish lens.

 After all, I am amazed how we have forgotten—and I mean, really forgotten—our Jewish roots as Christians.

 And reading scripture with this Jewish lens—both the Hebrew scriptures and the New Testament—really changes that perspective to some extent.

 Changes it in a wonderful way.

 Even seeing Jesus himself from a Jewish perspective is amazing.

 Seeing Jesus as a Jew—this Jewish Jesus, seeing him as a fulfillment of the Jewish expectations of the Messiah, the Son of God, the Anointed One of God, just gives it all more meaning, more depth, more purpose and more history.

 We are inheritors of a truly rich legacy!

 And it’s wonderful.

 To some extent, when we do so—when change our perspective—it feels we’ve turned around and seen all of this for the first time.

 It was all right there.

 We just needed to turn and see it.

 Certainly, this perspective, this “turning around” is what Jesus calls us to do again and again throughout the Gospel.

 And in today’s Gospel is no exception.

 In it, we find Jesus essentially doing the same thing.

 He’s asking his followers—and us—to turn around, to wake up, to see anew.

 And he does it with one little word.

 “Repent.”

 I think in our contemporary Christian Understanding, we have found this word hijacked a bit.  

 Repent is often seen as a shaming word.

 We seem to hear it only in the context of “repenting” of our sins. 

 And certainly that’s a correct usage of the word.

 When we turn from our sins—from all the wrongdoings we’ve done in life—we are repenting.

 But I think it’s a good thing to examine the word a bit closer and see it in a context all of its own. 

 The Greek word we find in this Gospel is μετανοειτε (metanoiein), which means to change our mind.

 But the word Jesus probably used was probably based on the Hebrew word, Shubh, which the  great theologian, Reginald Fuller, translates as “to turn around 180 degrees, to reorient one’s whole attitude toward Yahweh in the face of the God’s coming kingdom.”

 When we approach this word with this definition, all  of a sudden it takes on a whole new meaning and attitude.

 What is Jesus telling us to do?

 Jesus is telling us to turn around and see, for the Kingdom of God is near.

 Wake up and look, he’s saying

 We must turn round and face this mystery that is God. 

 We must adjust our thinking away from all the worldly things we find ourselves swallowed up within and focus our vision on God. 

 Or, rather, we should adjust our thinking, our vision of the world, within the context of God.

 However you want to look at it, it is about seeing anew.

 It is about adjusting to a new perspective.

 It is about changing the way we think and see and do things.

 As you can imagine, this kind of command isn’t a popular one.

 We don’t like change of this sort.

We are a complacent lot for the most part.

We enjoy our predicable, daily lives.

I certainly am the most guilty of this.

I find a certain comfort in my daily schedule.

And having to see everything anew from this uniquely Jewish perspective is sometimes hard.

It’s hard to re-see things I thought I knew.

It’s hard to have readjust and redefine things that I thought I knew well.

I was happy in my complacency.

I was fine when I didn’t have to think too deeply about God…or anything else for that matter.

This of course brings up probably our biggest point.

For the most part, we don’t think. 

We don’t have rational, concentrated thoughts about our faith or the world.

We are usually thinking about what is right before us right now.

We are thinking about what we are going to do next, what we are going to eat or drink for lunch or supper.

We think about what our children are doing or not doing or about what our spouses are doing or not doing, or about the work at hand. 

We are thinking about what needs to be thought about at that moment.

And there’s nothing wrong with any of that.

But, in that crush of thoughts, thoughts of God don’t come up so easily.

What Jesus is telling us in today’s Gospel, when he tells us to repent, is, essentially, this:

He is telling us to be mindful.

Be mindful of God.

Be mindful of the good news.

And what is the good news?

The good news is that the Kingdom of God is near.

God has drawn close to us.

God is near.

So, be aware. 

What we find here is a very simple lesson in how to live fully and completely. 

Essentially, Jesus is telling us,  

Repent.

Wake up.

Turn around and see.

God is here. 

Jesus is saying to us, Stop living foggy, complacent lives. Repent.

He is saying, Quit being drones, mindlessly going about your duties. 

Wake up and think.

Open your eyes and see. 

God is with you.

God is here, speaking to you words of joy and gladness.

Listen.

Hear what God is saying.

Look.

See God walking in your midst.

And when we see God, when we hear God speaking to us, we find that we too want to do what those disciples in our Gospel reading for today did.

We want to follow after the One God sent to us.

We want to be followers of Jesus—this Jewish Messiah.

And we want to help others be followers of Jesus.

We want to help others see that God is near.

Being followers of Jesus means that we are awake and we see.

So let us truly follow Jesus in our lives.

We don’t need to do it in a flamboyant fashion.

But we can do it in flamboyant fashion if that works for us.

We can truly follow Jesus by striving to be spiritually awake.

We can follow Jesus by allowing ourselves to spiritually see.

And when we hear and see—awake, aware, not sleeping spiritually—it is then that we can become truly effective fishers in helping others see as well.

Let us pray.

Holy God, God of Israel, God of our ancestors, let us heed the words of your Messiah, your Chosen One. Help us to repent, to turn around, and see so that we can be aware of the fact that your Kingdom is drawing close to us, and that you are walking in our midst. We ask this in the name of Jesus our Messiah. Amen.

 

 

 

 

 

The Baptism of Our Lord

 

January 14, 2024

 

Isaiah 42.1-9; Matthew 3.13-17

 

+ Today, of course, we’re celebrating the Baptism of Jesus!

 

And because we are, it is important for us to reminded of how important the event of our baptism was in the ministry we do and the work we are called to do as a congregation.

 

Because this is what it’s all about for us as Christians.

 

All ministry—the ministry we all do together—stems from that transformative event of our Baptism.

 

 In fact, to be baptized means, essentially, to be called to ministry.

 

When we look at our spiritual lives and our ministries in the “big picture,” we cannot do so without seeing that big picture circling and being centered on the singular event of our baptism.

 

For those of you who have visited my office  you have no doubt seen my baptismal certificate on my wall.

 

It is there to remind me and to help me commemorate that incredible event in my life 54 years ago next month—on February 8^th—this event that changed me and formed me as a Christian, as a follower of Jesus.

 

And, this gives me another opportunity to remind you, if you haven’t done so yet, to do a bit of detective work and find the date of your baptism as well and to share it with me or James so we can commemorate it and celebrate it.

 

After all, everything we do as Christians should come from the joy and amazing beauty of that simple event.

 

As you all know, as you have heard me preach from this pulpit many, many times, probably to the point you start rolling your eyes, Baptism, for me anyway, is not a sweet little christening event for us as Christians.

 

It is not a quaint little service of dedication we do.

 

For us Episcopalians, it a radical event in our lives as Christians.

 

It is the event from which everything we do and believe flows.

 

It was the day we were welcomed as loved children of God.

 

And it was the day we began following Jesus.

 

And when we look at the actual service of Baptism in the Book of Common Prayer, the words of that service drive home to us how important that event is.

 

For example, after the Baptism, when the priest traces a cross on the newly baptized person’s forehead, she or he says, “You are sealed by the Holy Spirit in Baptism and marked as Christ’s own for ever.”

 

You have heard me preach on those words many times before.

 

And trust me, I will preach them again and again.

 

Because, these words are important.

 

I will preach about them because they are probably the most important words we are ever going to hear in our lives.

 

You are marked as Christ’s own forever!

 

That is not just some nice little sentiment.

 

Those words convey that something transformational and amazing has happened in the life of that person.

 

This is essential to our belief of what happens at baptism.

 

In baptism, we are marked as Christ’s own.

 

For ever.

 

It is a bond that can never be broken.

 

We can try to break it as we please.

 

We can struggle under that bond.

 

We can squirm and resist it.

 

We can try to escape it.

 

But the simple fact is this: we can’t.

 

For ever is for ever.

 

On this Sunday on which we commemorate Jesus’ own baptism—on this Sunday in which we remember the fact that Jesus led the way through those waters of baptism and showed us a glimpse of all that happens in this singular event, we should remember and think about what happened at own baptisms.

 

Yes, we might not actually remember the actual event.

 

But the great thing about baptism is that, our own individual baptismal event was, for the most part, just like everyone else’s.

 

In those waters, God spoke to us the words God spoke to Jesus in today’s Gospel reading.

 

“This is my child, my beloved, in whom I am well pleased.”

 

In those waters, the words we heard in our reading from Isaiah were affirmed in us as well.

 

Here is my servant, whom I uphold,
   my chosen, in whom my soul delights;

 

Those words are our words.

 

Those words were spoken to us in those waters.

 

In those waters, we were all made equal.

 

In those waters, the same water washed all of us—no matter who are.

 

In those waters, there are no class distinctions, no hatred, or discrimination or racism or homophobia or transphobia or sexism or ableism  or war or violence. Or walls.

 

In those waters, we are all equal to one another and we are all equally loved.

 

In a few moments, we will process back to the baptismal font and renew the vows we made at baptism.

 

When we are done, I will sprinkle you with water from the font.

 

The sprinkling of water, like all our signs and actions that we do in this church, is not some strange practice a few of Anglo-Catholic-minded people do.

 

That water that comes to us this morning is a stark reminder of those waters we were washed in at Baptism—those waters that made us who we are as Christians, those waters in which we all stand on equal ground, with no distinctions between us.

 

Here at St. Stephen’s, all of our ministry—every time we seek to serve Christ and further the Kingdom of God in our midst—is a continuation of the celebration of baptism.

 

Sometimes we lose sight of that.

 

Sometimes we forget what it is that motivates us and charges us to do that wonderful work.

 

Sometimes we forget that our ministry as baptized people is a ministry to stand up and speak out against injustice.

 

The water of our baptism is a stark reminder to us of our call to the ministry of justice.

 

There is a reason the baptismal font in the narthex—the place we actually baptize—is always uncovered and always filled with fresh, blessed water.

 

Again, this is not some quaint, Anglo-Catholic tradition that spiky Fr. Jamie introduced here.

 

This is a very valid and real reminder that in that place, in those waters, we began to do the radical things we are called to us as Christians.

 

It is good for us to take that water and bless ourselves, and with it to be renewed for our call to justice.

 

It is good for us to be occasionally sprinkled with water as a reminder of what we must still do in this world

 

It is good to feel that cold water on our fingers and on our foreheads and on our faces as a reminder of our equality and our commitment to a God of love and justice.  

 

And, as you have heard me say many, many times, it is good to remember the date of our baptism and to celebrate that day, just as we would a birthday or a wedding anniversary.

 

Today, on this first Sunday in Epiphany, we start out on the right note.

 

We start out celebrating.

 

We start our commemorating the baptism of Jesus in the river Jordan.

 

And by doing so, we commemorate our own baptism as well.

 

In our collect today, we prayed to God to “Grant that all who are baptized into [Jesus’] Name maybe keep the covenant that they have made, and boldly confess him as Lord and Saviour.”

 

That should be our prayer as well today and always.

 

We pray that we may keep this Baptismal covenant in which we seek to follow Jesus and serve all people equally and fully in his name, no matter who they are.

 

We pray that, in keeping this covenant, we may continue to welcome all those who need to be welcomed, love each other and those who come to us, to respect and serve each other, and, yes, to honor the lives of those who have been cast off and abandoned by this world.

 

And we pray that we may boldly live out our covenant by all that we do as Christians in seeking out and helping others in love and compassion and justice.

 

May we always celebrate that wonderful baptismal event in our lives.

 

And may we each strive to live out that baptism in our radical ministry of love and service of God and of one another.

 

Amen.

 

Epiphany

January 7, 2024

 Matthew 2.1-12

+ We just heard in our Gospel reading this very strange but very familiar story about these wise men who traveled a great distance under worse conditions than anything I could even imagine.

You gotta give the Magi credit.

It would take great faith and great bravery to load up everything, including valuables like gold and spices into that time of hijacking and robbery, and just head off into the unknown. Following a star.

But these Magi did just that.

These “wise” men did something that most of us now days would think was actually naïve and dangerous.

Originally, of course, the word used for these men was “astrologers,” which does add an interesting dimension to what’s occurring here.

Astrologers certainly would make sense.

Astrologers certainly would have been aware of this star that appeared and they would have been able to see in that star a unique sign—a powerful enough of a sign that they packed up and went searching for it.

And it certainly seems like it was a great distance.

They probably came from Persia, which is now modern-day Iran.

And they would’ve come in a caravan of others.

These Magi are mysterious characters, for sure.

We popularly see them as the three wise men, but if you notice in our Gospel reading for today, it doesn’t say anything about there being three of them.

There might have been four or five or even two of them for all we know.

Certainly, it might seem strange that I am talking about all of this today.  

Why are we talking about the Christ child and the Magi?

It’s the beginning of January, after all.

Christmas already feels long over.

Most of us have put away our Christmas decorations.

Christmas trees came down quickly in the first few days after Christmas, the rest in the days immediately after New Years.

(New Years seems like a long time ago too)

Since we’ve been hearing about Christmas for months, we are maybe a little happy to see the Christmas season go away for another year by this time. 

 We’re ready to put those trappings aside and move on.

 The fact is: the Christmas season, for the Church, began on Christmas Eve and ended yesterday, on January 6.

 Yesterday was the feast of the Epiphany, which we are commemorating today.

 Until Epiphany, extended one day, it’s still Christmas officially.

 The greens are still up (at least until after Mass today)

 But, I think Epiphany is important for us, and so we’re gonna talk about it today.

 And we’re still gonna Proclaim the Date of Easter, Bless the Chalk, mark the lintel and have 3 Kings Cake.

 So, what is the Epiphany really? 

 Well, the word itself—Epiphany—means “manifestation” or “appearing.”

 In this context, it means the manifestation of Christ among us. 

 God’s own Christ, God’s own anointed One, God’s very Son, has appeared to us.

 And in the story that we hear this morning, it is the appearing of God not only to the Jews, but to the non-Jews, as well, to the Gentiles, which we find represented in the Magi—those mysterious men from the East. 

 That is also is very fortuitous to us on this Sunday in 2024.

 If you watched the news and paid close attention, you no doubt heard about the awful rise of anti-Semitism in our country and in the world over the last several months.

 I have to say, anti-Semitism is something I simply do not understand.

 I do not understand how Christians—people who profess to be followers of Jesus—can be anti-Semites.

 I hate to break this news to those Christians with anti-Semitic beliefs but—Jesus was a Jew.

 And not just any Jew.

 He was the King of the Jews.

 And that title alone, inscribed on the board affixed to the cross on which he died, could also be viewed as a form of anti-Semitism.

 I am going to be blunt on this Sunday.

 You cannot be a Christian and be anti-Semitic.

 You cannot be a Christian and a Nazi.

 You just can’t.

 It’s just not possible.

 We are all inheritors of Judaism.

 We are all children of the God of Israel.

 And my prayer on this Feast of Epiphany is that that very statement—one cannot be a follower of the Jewish Jesus and still be an anti-Semite—will come as an “epiphany.”

 Epiphany, after all, is all about the manifestation of God in our midst. 

 Epiphany is a moment of realization. 

 In this feast we realize that God is truly among us—all of us, no matter our race or religion or our understanding of this event.

 Epiphany is the realization that God is among us in the person of this little Jewish child, Jesus. 

 Over the last month or so, we, as the Church, have gone through a variety of emotions. 

 Advent was a time of expectation. 

 We were waiting expectantly for God to come to us.

 Christmas was the time of awe. 

 God was among us and there was something good and wonderful about this fact.

 Epiphany, however, gets the rap for being sort of anti-climactic. 

 It is the time in which we settle down into the reality of what has come upon us. 

 We realize what has happened and we accept it.

 A bit of the awe is still there. 

 A bit of wonder still lingers.

 In this morning’s Gospel, the Magi  are overcome with joy when they see the star stop over Bethlehem. 

 But, for the most part, despite the joy they felt, we are now moving ahead. 

 There are no more angels singing on high for us. 

 The miraculous star has begun to fade by this point. 

 The Magi  have presented their gifts and are now returning to home to Persia. 

 It is a time in which we feel contentment. 

 We feel comfortable in what has happened. 

 But, in a few weeks, this is all going to change again. 

 We will soon face the harsh reality of Ash Wednesday and Lent. 

 Now, I know it’s hard even to think about such things as we labor through the cold of January.

 As any of you who know; I really despise the month of January. It’s my least favorite month.

 But is there is Ash Wednesday—just around the corner. In the middle of next month.

 The time of Christmas feasting will be over. 

 The joys and beauty of Christmas will be replaced by ashes and sackcloth and, ultimately, by the Cross.

 But that’s all in the future. 

 Christmas is still kind of lingering in our thoughts today and, in this moment, we have this warm reality. 

 God’s love has appeared to us.

 God has sent us God’s love in the form of this divine child.  

 When we look upon the face of the child Jesus, we see ourselves.

 But we see more. 

 We see God’s love in the flesh as well. 

 We see how God’s very love for us lives and dwells in a unique way in Jesus.

 In this Child—God’s very divine Son—the divine and the mortal have come together. 

 And for this moment—before the denial of our bodies in Lent, before the betrayal and torture of Holy Week, before the bloody and violent murder of Good Friday, we have in our midst, this Child.

 We have God’s love appearing to us, dwelling within the most innocent and most beautiful form of humanity possible. 

 It is the Child Jesus we delight in now.

 For now, we are able to look at this Child and see God’s amazing love in our midst.

 With Lent coming upon us, we will find God manifested in other ways—in fasting, in penitence, in turning our eyes toward the Cross.

 But, for now, in this moment, we are the Magi.

 We are the ones who, seeking Christ, have found him.

 We are the ones who, despite everything our rational minds have told us, have decided to follow that star of faith we have seen.

 We, like them, have stepped out into the unknown and have searched for what we have longed for.

 We are the ones who have traveled the long journeys of all our lives to come to this moment—to this time and place—and, here, we find Christ—God’s love made human—in our midst.

 We have followed stars and other strange signs, hoping to find some deeper meaning to our lives.

 We have trekked through the wastelands of our life, searching for God.

 But our Epiphany is the realization that God has appeared to us where we are—right here in our own midst.

 And this is what we can take away with us this morning—on this day after the feast of the Epiphany.

 This is the consolation we can take with us as we head through these short, cold, snow-filled days toward Lent.

 No matter where we are—no matter who we are—God is here with us.

 God is with us in all that we do and every place we look.

 So, let us look for God.

 Let us see God—and God’s love for us—in our midst—here in our lives.

 And whenever we recognize God—that is our unending feast day of Epiphany.