Dorothy Tronnes funeral

The Funeral Liturgy for

Dorothy Tronnes

(June 19, 1023-January 9, 2016) 

Hanson-Runsvold Funeral Home
Fargo, North Dakota

January 12, 2016

+ As I said earlier, it is a real honor for me to be here and to officiate at this service. As I said at the beginning of the service, I am a cousin of the family. Dorothy has been a very important and vital part of our family for a very long time.

I loved Dorothy, as most of us did who are here today. And I am going to miss her very, very much. Although we all knew this day was coming, although there is a relief that Dorothy isn’t suffering anymore, I gave to say: this is hard. I don’t want to be saying goodbye to Dorothy today. Yes, I know she had a long life. Yes, I know she was tired. I know it was time for her to go.  But, it’s still so hard. And I am going to miss her very much.

I will miss so much about her. Every time I would visit her, she would always be so happy to see me. She would brighten right up when I would I come in to see her. And I enjoyed that. I have always been very grateful for that.  And I will miss that.

As I said, I, like everyone here,  will miss Dorothy dearly. I will miss her laugh—that smile of hers. I will miss her great sense of humor.  And I will miss her strength.

I know that her life wasn’t always easy at times. There were set-backs in her life.  But, she was a great example to us of how, even despite hardships, even despite difficulties, these hard things in life won’t defeat us.  She could be tough and very strong. And that always impressed me.  And we saw that strength in her dying as well.

I can tell you that she was prepared. Last Thursday I went to Villa Maria and spent some time with her. I prayed with her, I anointed her and just spent some time with her.  And I have no doubt that, as she was making that transition to the next life, we was fully prepared. She knew what awaited her after this life. And it did not frighten her.

As she approached the end of her life, she knew she was loved—and loved deeply—here, by her family and all of us who loved her. But she was ready to go and be with her one, true love—Oscar.

And that is where she is right now. She is there. She left here surrounded in love and she arrived there surrounded in love.

That thought comforts us today. For us who did love her, this is still hard. But, as difficult as it is right now,  the reality is this. We are saying goodbye, yes. But it is only a temporary goodbye. It is a goodbye until we see each other again. Dorothy, I can tell you, had a very deep faith and belief that we would, one day, all see each other again.

The scripture readings we have today speak clearly to us. Our reading from Proverbs could have been written with Dorothy very much in mind. For some reason, we don’t hear this particular scripture very often. And I don’t  understand why, because I think it’s beautifully. 

In it, the author writes,

“An excellent wife who can find?
    She is far more precious than jewels.

She dressed herself with strength

    and makes her arms strong.”

That’s Dorothy, if I ever heard it!  A bit later we hear,

“Strength and dignity are her clothing,
    and she laughs at the time to come.”

Dorothy was certainly clothed in strength and dignity—and anyone who is certainly does not fear the future or anything this life can throw at us.  A bit later we hear,

“She looks well to the ways of her household
    and does not eat the bread of idleness.
Her children rise up and call her blessed;
    her husband also, and he praises her…”

I don’t think I need to add much to that. Anyone who knew Dorothy knew she definitely did not eat the bread of idleness. And no one is praising more loudly today than her children. And yes, even Oscar today is praising Dorothy.

Yes, this was the Dorothy we knew and loved. And the consolation we can take away today is that the God she knew has now gathered all that was good and strong and joyful about her into the land of unending Light. All that joy, all that love, all that life that was contained within her—all of that is not gone today. It is not lost.

Today, all the good things that Dorothy Tronnes was to us—that woman of life and strength and joy—all of that is not lost. It is not gone. Rather all of that is alive and dwells now in a place of beauty and Light inaccessible. All of that dwells in a place of peace and joy, where sorrow and pain are no more, neither sighing, but life everlasting.  In a place in which, there never again be any more tears. Dorothy will never cry another tear again.

Sadly, we’re not at that point yet in our own lives. We will shed more tears. Certainly today and tomorrow we will shed more tears.

But, for us who are left, we know that that place awaits us as well. That place of light and joy awaits each of us as well.  And we will have the opportunity to dwell there.

Yes, I am brutally honest today. I will miss Dorothy very, very much. We will all miss her and will feel her loss for a long time to come. But, on this day in which we bid her this temporary goodbye, let us also be thankful. Let us be thankful for this woman whom God has been gracious to let us know and to love.  Let us be thankful for her example to us.  Let us be thankful for all that she has taught us and continues to teach us.  Let us be grateful for the love she felt for us and the love we felt for her. And let us be grateful for all she has given us in our own lives.

Into paradise may the angels lead you, Dorothy.

At your coming may the martyrs receive you, and bring you into the holy city Jerusalem.

Amen.

1 Epiphany

Baptism of Our Lord

January 10, 2016

Luke 3.15-17, 21-22

+ I know it’s not something we want to hear about today, on this bitterly, bitterly cold morning. In fact, just thinking about it makes us even colder. But there’s no getting around it. If there’s a theme for this Sunday it’s…

Water.

And it’s a very good thing to be considering. It is probably the natural element we most take for granted. And yet it is one of our most vital. We depend upon water.  It nourishes us. It cleans us. It delights us.

In our Western society, we take for granted the fact that our water is clean.  In other parts of the world, water isn’t so clean. In other parts of the world, water sometimes is a source of illness. In some parts of the world they have little idea of the luxury of something like cold water—or even ice for that matter. 

As we’ve known here in this part of the country over the years, water can also be a destructive force when it comes to the matter of floods. Water, as vital as it is, can also destroy. It can destroy property, hopes, dreams and even lives.

For us, as Christians, water truly is the source of our spiritual lives.  Throughout Scripture, we find ourselves nourished by and reminded of the importance of water.  The authors of our scriptures, coming as they did from such an arid place as the Middle East, no doubt appreciated water in ways we don’t. And that appreciation certainly affected their spirituality.  Certainly, we find the image of water returning again and again in scripture. Each time Scripture references water, it does so as a source of life, as a source of renewal, as a source of God’s saving grace—even in the instance of Noah’s flood.

Water is important to us as humans. And it is important to us as Christians.

In today’s Gospel reading, we find probably the most profound expression of how important water is to us as Christians. We find that first great example being set. As Jesus comes out of those waters, as the Spirit, like a dove, descends upon him, he hears the words:

“You are…my Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

Here the standard is set. Here the breakthrough has happened. From now on, this is essentially what has been spoken to each of us at our own baptisms:

“You are my Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

For most of us, we have no doubt taken for granted our baptisms, much as we have taken for granted water itself. We have viewed baptism as no more than a christening service for babies—a kind of dedication ceremony.  Baptism is, obviously, much, much more than that. Baptism is THE defining moment in our lives as Christians.  Whether we remember the event or not, it was the moment when our lives changed. It was the moment we became new. It was, truly, our second birth.  When some Christians ask you, “Have you been born again?” you can tell them in no uncertain terms: “Oh, yes!”

But event that doesn’t truly convey what baptism is for us. What happened to Jesus in those waters, happened to us as well. In the waters of our baptism, we were reborn as children of our loving and caring God. We became what was Jesus is. We became children of God.  We can, from the very moment of our baptism, trace our relation with God our Parent—the God who recognizes us and loves us and accepts us and embraces us.

I have preached this so much over the years about this, but because of this relationship formed in our baptism, our own baptisms are important to us. You have heard me many times encouraging people to celebrate the anniversary of their baptism much as they would celebrate any other important anniversary in their lives. I always encourage people to find out the date of their baptism.  Or, I encourage them to let me help them find out. That is why here, at St. Stephen’s, we remember the anniversary of our baptismal dates in our intercessions during the Eucharist.

Now, my baptism date is February 8.  I actually framed a copy of my baptismal certificate and have hung it on my wall, along with those other certificates of meaning for me—my certificates of ordination to the diaconate and priesthood, my masters degrees, my oblation certificate from when I became an Oblate of St. Benedict.  In fact, my baptismal certificate is probably more meaningful in many ways that any of them because without my baptism I wouldn’t have most of those other certificates. Well, except for maybe one of my Master’s Degrees.  I also celebrate the anniversary of my baptism, as well as the baptism anniversaries of my loved ones.  And whenever I baptize anyone, I write down the date in my own personal ordo of dates and pray for them on the anniversary.

So, why the importance of this one single event?  Well, the bond that is made at baptism is one that truly can never be broken. That relationship that was formed with God in those waters is eternal.

In baptism, we become God’s child.  Forever. 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.

Now, we might not want to have this bond anymore.  Some of those babies who grow up will make clear later on that they don’t want this bond anymore.  But, no matter how much we may turn our backs on God, God never turns away from us.

 No matter how much we try to turn away from God, to deny God, to pick God apart and make God something other than who God is, God never turns away from us. God never denies us. Why?  Because that bond, formed in those waters, is eternal and binding. And God will never turn away one of God’s children.

What Baptism shows us, more than anything else, is that we always belong to God.  It is shows us that God will never deny us or turn away from us. It shows us that, no matter what we might do, we will always belong to God.  Always.  For ever.

In this way, Baptism is truly the great equalizer.  In those waters, we are all bathed—no matter who we are and what we are. We all emerge from those waters on the same ground—as equals. And, as equals, we are not expected to just sit around, hugging ourselves and basking in the glow of  the confidence that we are God’s own child.  As equals, made equal in the waters of baptism, we are then compelled to go out into the world and treat each other as equals. We are called to go out into the world and make a difference in it. And we are called to act like Children of a loving God.

That means we have to fight ourselves sometimes. We have to fight to not become negative people. We, as loved children of a loving God, must work hard to not be manipulative, controlling, gossipy, backbiting, unloving people. We must not be what our critics accuse of us being.

We must love and respect each other equally.  Our baptism doesn’t set us apart as special people. It forces us out into the world to be a part of the world and, by doing so, to transform the world.

So, in those waters of baptism, something truly incredible happened for us. We went into those waters one person, and emerged from those waters as someone else completely.  It was an incredible moment in our lives, just as it was in the life of Jesus, who led the way and showed us that Baptism was an incredible outpouring of God’s love and light into our lives.

So, with this knowledge of how important it is, let us take the time to meditate and think about your own baptism and the implications it has in your life.  And when we do, let us remember and celebrate the bond that was formed with our loving God in those waters on that marvelous day we were baptized.  Find out the date of your baptism and celebrate it.

In a few moments, I will come through the nave and will sprinkle you with water. As that water touches, remember how God loves you and cherishes you. And when you enter this church, and when you leave it, pay attention to the baptismal font in the narthex and the blessed water in it. Touch that water, bless yourselves with it, and when you do, remember it as a reminder of that wonderful event in your life which marked you forever as God’s very own.

Those words spoken to Jesus on the day of his baptism are being spoked to us again and again.  Let us listen to those words. Let us believe those words.  And let us celebrate those words that Gods speaks to each of us—

“You are my Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

Epiphany

January 3, 2016

Matthew 2.1-12

+ Now, I try. I try very hard to read the “signs” when I see them or hear them. God sends us signs as times in our lives. Little reminders.  Sometimes, those signs in our lives are blaring at us. Other times, they are so subtle, we wonder: is that a sign from God? Should I be responding to it in some way?

I wish I could have a sign like these wise men.  I mean, look at them.  A star! Not very subtle.  

Still, even if a star like that appeared as a sign, I’m still not certain I would follow it.  I doubt any of us would.  We certainly wouldn’t follow a star with some vague notion of a king being born. It probably wouldn’t mean much to us, prophecy or not.  It would take great faith and great bravery to load up everything, including valuable like gold and spices into that time of high jacking and robbery and just head off into the unknown.

But these men did just that. These “wise” men did something that most of us now days would think wasn’t that wise—in fact, it was naïve and dangerous.

Originally, of course, the word used 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 of them for all we know. But, I love the whole story.  

Certainly, it might seem strange that I am talking about the Christ child and the Magi. It’s the beginning of January, after all.   Christmas happened almost two weeks ago.   Most of us have put away our Christmas decorations.  Trees came down quickly in the first few days after Christmas, the rest in the days immediately after New Years. Since we’ve been hearing about Christmas for months, we are maybe a little happy to see the Christmas season go away for another by this time.   I, for one, am happy we don’t have Christmas commercials and songs all over the place.

We’re ready to put those trappings aside and move on. The other day I saw St. Patrick’s decorations for sale. So, we’re definitely ready to move on. The fact is: the Christmas season, for the Church, began on Christmas Eve and ends on Wednesday evening with the actual feast of Epiphany, which we re celebrating today.  

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 has appeared to us.  And in the story that we hear today, 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. 

Epiphany is 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 our understanding of this event.  Epiphany is the realization that God is among us. Not in some blazing cloud. Not in some pillar of fire. But in the person of this little 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 the Gospel, the wise men 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 wise men 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 winter, as mild as it has been.  But it is there—just around the corner. 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 though and, in this moment, we have this warm reality.  God has appeared to us, as one of us.  When we look upon the face of the child Jesus, what do we see? We see ourselves. But we see more.  We see God as well.  

In this Child 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. And this Child reminds us that we are Children of this God as well.

Today, we are definitely being reminded that we are children of God. Today, we celebrate the baptism of Parker. Our baptism reminds us very clearly that we are children of a loving and caring God.

The Episcopal priest and biblical scholar, Bruce Chilton, once wrote about baptism:

“Baptism…was when…God sends [the] Son into every believer, who cries to God, ‘Abba, Father.’ The believer becomes a [Child], just as Jesus called upon his father…The moment of baptism, the supreme moment of faith, was when we  discovered one’s self as a [Child] of God because Jesus as God’s Son was disclosed in one’s heart.”

For now, we are able to look at this Christ Child and see God in our midst. But we are also able to look at this holy Child and see ourselves as well. And, in looking at this Child, we see ourselves as holy too. We are able to see ourselves as truly loved children of our loving God.  That was made possible through the waters  of baptism.

Today, as Parker is reminded that he is a beloved child of his God and is washed in those waters of life, so we are reminded of our own special relationship with God. Epiphany is the realization that Christ has appeared to us where we are—here in our own midst. Christ has appeared to us, in us. We realize at Epiphany that we often find Christ in our own mirrors, staring back at us.  

And this is what we can take away with us this morning.  This is the consolation we can take with us as we head through these short winter days toward Lent. No matter where we are—no matter who we are—Christ is here with us and within us. Christ is with us in all that we do and every place we look.

So, like those wise men, let us look for him. Let us, like them, see him in your midst—here in your life. Let us adore him as he stares back at us from our very own eyes.  And whenever we recognize him—that is our own unending feast day of Epiphany.

New Year's Day 2016/Holy Name

I did something I don’t think I have ever done in my entire life: after a very fine supper out with friends and a nice drive around town to look at fireworks, I went home…and went to bed fairly early on New Year’s Eve. And… I woke up early this morning. I woke up to a beautiful New Year’s morning! It was an amazing experience—waking up early on New Year’s Day. With no alcohol and definitely no hang-over, I greeted 2016 with a clear mind—an open mind. This is the real way to begin the year on a very positive note.

I don’t now why I have never done this before. I don’t know why I’ve never heard anyone share this little bit of simple wonderfulness before. I have always been at a loss at how to begin the New Year in a proper way. I have hosted parties. I have went out on the town.

And here I am, at 46, just starting to figure it out. Two years vegan. Not a drop of alcohol for eight months (eight months today). I have never felt this healthy and this clear-headed before in my life.

I have no idea what 2016 is going to hold for me, but I can say I am greeting the right way for me.

Of course, today is also the feast of the Holy Name, which is also has been

one of my favorite feasts.

I found two wonderful little prayers from the New Zealand Prayer Book that really sum up the beauty of this day:

God of time and eternity, as we enter this new year day by day open us to your new age.

Eternal God, to whom a thousand years are no more than a moment; renew us in your Holy Spirit so that we may serve with courage while we have life and breath; through the grace of Jesus your Son.

St. Stephen (observed)

December 27, 2015

+ I know. You’re wondering, why are we commemorating St. Stephen today? His feast day was yesterday.  It’s the First Sunday after Christmas. Where’s our Gospel reading from the first chapter of John?

We come to church and everything’s red. What’s going on, Fr. Jamie? Get it together! Are you insane?  

Well, trust me. There’s a method to all this madness. As there always is.

First of all, we are celebrating St. Stephen for the very important reason that he is our patron saint of course. So, we transferred his feast from yesterday so we could all enjoy St. Stephen. Why wouldn’t we? We very proudly bear his name. I’ll get into all of that in a moment.

But, there’s another important reason we’re commemorating him today. We have transferred his feast from yesterday because I really do think it’s important to remind ourselves how important St. Stephen is to all of us.

And…

I would like to, at this time, officially open our 60^th year. I christen it, shall we say?  Today, do we officially begin our 60^th year as a congregation. This is something very important to commemorate. 60 years of amazing ministry in the Diocese of North Dakota.

Bishop Emery and those first founders of church were a smart bunch. They were a prophetic bunch. Naming our church after St. Stephen was a smart thing. Of course, the reason they came to this name was because St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church in Casselton, ND had just closed in 1956. And we inherited much of their furnishings.

But St. Stephen was a great saint for us to have as our patron.  In the Orthodox and Roman traditions of the Church, the patron saint of a church is viewed as more than just a namesake. They are seen as special guardians of that congregation.   And so, it is especially wonderful to celebrate a saint like St. Stephen, who is our guardian and who is, no doubt, present among us this morning, with that whole communion of saints, who is always present with us at worship.

St. Stephen, of course, was the proto-martyr of the Church “Proto” is the important word here. Proto means, essentially, first. He was the first martyr of the Church. He was the first one to die for his open proclamation of  Christ.

He also is considered a proto deacon in the church.  In this year in which we are raising up two prospective deacons in our congregation, this is especially meaningful as well.  He is a special patron saint of deacons—and of all people who share a ministry of servitude to others.

What better saint can we claim as our patron that St. Stephen?  He was the first to do many things.  Just like we, as a congregation, have been the first in doing many things.  St. Stephen, in his stance on a few issues, was not popular always obviously.

There is a reason they dragged him out and stoned him. Well, neither are our opinions and our stances on some issues. (I’m not going to go into detail on those today) And making the stance we have in the past and the reaction we have received from others, let me tell you, I can feel for St. Stephen.  So, again, talk about a perfect saint for us.

It’s appropriate that this congregation that has been the first to do many things, is named after St. Stephen. When we look back at our 60 year history, just think for a moment about all those people who came through the doors of this church. Think about how many of those people who have been hurt by the Church.  Think about how many were frustrated with the Church.  And more often than not, their relationship with God has suffered for it.   But they came here searching. Searching for true religion. Searching for a welcoming and open community.

So what this true religion?   I see the Episcopal Church, and specifically St. Stephen’s,  as making a real solid effort at true religion.  For me, St. Stephen’s personifies in many ways, what true religion is.  The Church should be like a dinner to which everyone is invited.   And St. Stephen’s has always been the place that knows this one blunt fact: The only thing there is no room for in true religion is for those who cannot love each other.  St. Stephen’s is a place very much like a family.  We don’t always choose the people God has brought into our lives, but we always—ALWAYS—have to love them.

So what is true religion?  True religion begins and ends with love.  We must love one another as God loves us.  True religion begins with the realization that, first and foremost, God loves each and every one of us.   When we can look at that person who drives us crazy and see in that person, someone God loves wholly and completely, then our relationship with that person changes.  We too are compelled to love that person as well.   Love is the beginning and end of true religion.  

Certainly, St. Stephen’s has always been a place of love.   Love has never been a stranger here. God’s love has been offered not only on this altar, but among the pews and in the undercroft and in the entryway and in the parking lot.   And most importantly in the lives of our members out in the larger world.  That Love that God has commanded us to share has went out from here into all the world.  

We who are gathered here have been touched in one way or the other by the love that has emanated from this place and these people.  We are the fortunate ones—the ones who have been transformed and changed by this love.  We are the lucky ones who have—through our experiences at St. Stephen’s—been able to get a glimpse of true religion.

But our job now is not to cherish it and hold it close to our hearts. Our job now is to turn around and to share this love with others. Our job is take this love and reflect it for everyone to see.

So, in a very real sense, we, at St. Stephen’s, are doing what that first St. Stephen did.  We have set the standard. We have embodied who and what St. Stephen the Martyr stood for. Even when it was not popular. Even when people felt it wasn’t time. Even when people said, “wait. There’s no rush. Why do this now?”

We have stood up again and again for what we have felt is our mission to accept all people in love. We have journeyed out at times into uncharted territory. And most importantly, we have, by our love, by our compassion, by our acceptance of all, been a reflection of what the Church—capital C—is truly capable of.

This is how we begin our 60^th year. We begin it by doing what we have always done. We do it as St. Stephen’s did it—with our eyes firmly set on Christ, with our lips singing and praying, with our head held high, with love in heart, even if stones and rocks are falling around us.

We do so affirmed in our many ministries. We do so, hopefully, thankful for the ordained ministries of two new deacons to serve here, and for the ministry of a new priest to serve the larger Church. We do so thankful for the ministry of Bishop Gallagher. We do so thankful or our continued place in the Episcopal Diocese of North Dakota. We do thankful for our prophetic past. And we do so thankful for an amazing future.

It is an amazing time to be at St. Stephen’s. Those founders of our church would only be amazed at what this congregation they envisioned in 1956 would one day be.

As we begin this 60^th year, let us do with gratitude to God and one another in our hearts. Let us shake off the negativity and that nagging doubts that have plagued us over these months. And let us, like St. Stephen, be strong and firm in our faith in God and our convictions of serving others in love. And may our God—that source of all love, that author and giver of all good things—continue to bless us with love and goodness. May we continue to flourish and grow.  And may we continue to venture bravely forward in  all that we continue to do here among us and throughout the world.  Amen.

Christmas Day

December 25, 2015

  

+ I’m a church geek. You know how you know I’m a church geek? Because one of my greatest pleasures in life is doing the Christmas morning Mass.  Yes, I know. Christmas Eve is beautiful. But Christmas morning.  I don’t know. It’s just just…something special. I think that is what Christmas Day is all about. This sense of it all being just…a bit more holy and complete.

The great Trappist monk and poet, Thomas Merton, once wrote this poem. I love it:

Make ready

for the Christ

whose smile,

like lightning

sets free

the Song

of everlasting

glory

that now sleeps

in your paper

flesh like

Dynamite.

For me, that captures perfectly this strange feeling I have experiencing this morning how I LOVE a Christmas Day mass And now—this morning— Christmas is here.  This morning, we celebrate the Light.  And we celebrate the Word.

We celebrate the Light that has come to us in our collective and personal darkness.  We celebrate the Light that has come to us in our despair and our fear, in our sadness and in our frustration. And we celebrate this Word that has been spoken to us—this Word of hope.  This Word that God is among us. We celebrate this

“Christ

whose smile,

like lightning

sets free

the Song

of everlasting

glory

When we think long and hard about this day, when we ponder it and let it take hold in our lives, what we realized happened on that day when Jesus was born was not just some mythical story.   It was not just the birth of a child under dire circumstances, in some distant, exotic land.  

What happened on that day was a joining together—a joining of us and God.  God met us half-way.  God came to us in our darkness, in our blindness, in our fear—and cast a light that destroyed that darkness, that blindness, that fear.

God didn’t have to do what God did. God didn’t have to descend among us and be one of us.  But by doing so, God showed us a remarkable intimacy.

Last night at Mass I shared a great quote from the great Dominican theologian, Meister Ekhart:

“What good is it  if Mary gave birth to the Son of God [two thousand years ago]? I too must give birth to the Son of God in my time, here and now. We are all meant to be the mothers of God. God is always needing to be born.”

I love that quote and I think it’s very true.  We need to be the people through whom God is born again and again in this world. We need to bring God into reality in this world again and again.  

Why?  Because God is a God of love.  Because we are loved by God. Because we are accepted by God. Because we are—each of us—important to God.  We are, each of us, broken and imperfect as we may be some times, very important to God. Each of us. And because we are, we must love others.

We must give birth to our God so others can know this amazing love as well.  Knowing this amazing love of God changes everything.  When we realize that God knows us as individuals.  That God loves us and accepts each of us for who we are, we are joyful. We are hopeful of our future with that God. And we want to share this love and this God with others. That is what we are celebrating this morning. Our hope and joy is in a God who comes and accepts us and loves us for who we are and what we are—a God who understands what it means to live this sometimes frightening uncertain life we live.  This is the real reason why we are joyful and hopeful on this beautiful morning.  This is why we are feeling within us a strange sense of longing. This is why we are rushing toward our Savior who has come to visit us in what we once thought was our barrenness.

Let the hope we feel today as God our Savior draws close to us stay with us now and always. Let the joy we feel tonight as God our Friend comes to us in love be the motivating force in how we live our lives throughout this coming year. God is here.  God is in our midst today.  God is so near, our very bodies and souls are rejoicing. And God loves us.

The great Anglican poet Christina Rosetti put it more eloquently:

 Love came down at Christmas,

love, all lovely, love divine;

love was born at Christmas:

star and angels gave the sign.

That is what we are experiencing this day. Love came down.  Love became flesh and blood. Love became human. And in the face of that realization, we are rejoicing today.  We are rejoicing in that love personified.  We are rejoicing in each other.   We are rejoicing in the glorious beauty of this one holy moment in time.

Christmas Eve

December 24, 2015

Isaiah 9.2-7; Titus 2.11-14; Luke 2.1-20

+ I don’t know about you, but it sure feels different tonight. Even those of us who might be scrooges about Christmas, even those people know—there’s something special and beautiful about this evening. You can feel it. It’s all around us.

Christmas.

Yes, it might be dark and cold out there. But even in this coldness, in this darkness, there is Light. We are celebrating the Light tonight—this Light hat that has come to us in our collective and personal darknesses.  We celebrate the Light that has come to us in our despair and our fear, in our sadness and in our frustration—all those things we live with in our day to day lives. And as it does, no doubt most of us are feeling two emotions—the two emotions Christmas is all about—hope and joy.

Hope—in our belief that what has come to us—Christ—God made flesh—is here among us. And Joy—at the realization of that reality. God has come among us.

As we come forward tonight to meet with joy and hope this mystery that we remember and commemorate and make ours this evening, we find ourselves feeling these emotions at our very core. This hope and joy we are experiencing this evening comes up from our very centers.  We will never fully understand how or why God has come to us as this little child in a dark stable in the Middle East, but it has happened and, because it happened, we are a different people. But, although it seems innocent, although it seems so nice and friendly, it is a momentous experience.

The event we celebrate tonight is THE event in which God breaks through to us.  The event we celebrate is the Incarnation—God coming to us in the flesh. For us, Incarnation means, God breaking through to us.  

And whenever God breaks through, it is not some gentle nudge.  It not some kind of flick. It is an event that jars us, provokes us and changes us.

For people sitting in deep darkness, that glaring Light that breaks through into their lives is not the most pleasant thing in the world. It can be blinding and can be painful. And what it exposes is sobering.

That is what God does to us. That is REAL Incarnation. It shakes us up and changes us. That is what we are commemorating tonight.

We are commemorating a “break through” from God—an experience with God that leaves us different people than we were before that encounter. And it can happen again and again in our lives.  What we experience is a Christmas that promises us something tangible. It promises us, and delivers, a real joy.

The joy we feel today, the joy we feel at this Child’s birth, at God breaking through to us and being with us and among us, is a joy that promises us some THING. It is a teaser of what awaits us. It is a glimpse into the life we will all have one day. It is a perfect joy that promises a perfect life.

But just because it is a joyful event, does not mean that it isn’t a serious event. What we celebrate is serious. It is an event that causes us to rise up in a joyful happiness, while, at the same time, driving us to our knees in humility. It is an event that should cause us not just to return home to our brightly wrapped presents, but it should also send us out into the world to make it, in some small way, a reflection of this life-changing joy that has come into our lives.

There is a great quote from the great Dominican theologian, Meister Ekhart:

“What good is if Mary gave birth to the Son of God [two thousand years ago]? I too must give birth to the Son of God in my time, here and now. We are all meant to be the mothers of God. God is always needing to be born.”

We need to be the people through whom God is born again and again in this world. We need to bring God into reality in this world again and again.  Why?  Because God is a God of love.  Because we are loved by that God.  Because we are accepted by that God.  Because we are—each of us—important to God.  We are, each of us, broken and imperfect as we may be some times, very important to God. Each of us. And because we are, we must love others, just as God loves us.  We must give birth to our God so others can know this amazing love as well.

Knowing this amazing love of God changes everything.  When we realize that God knows us as individuals. That God loves us and accepts each of us for who we are, we are joyful. We are hopeful of our future with that God. And we want to share this love and this God with others.

That is what we are celebrating this evening. Our true hope and true joy is not in brightly colored lights and a pile of presents until a decorated tree. Our true hope and joy does not come to us with the “things” that will, a week from now, be a fading memory. Our hope and joy is in a God who comes to us, with a face like our face and flesh like our flesh, who causes us to leap up with joy at this very presence.  Our hope and joy is in that almighty and incredible God who would come to us, not on some celestial cloud with a sword in his hand and armies of angels flying about him.

Our hope and joy is in a God who comes to us in this innocent child, born to a humble teenager in a dusty land.  Our hope and joy is in a God who comes and accepts us and loves us for who we are and what we are—a God who understands what it means to live this sometimes frightening uncertain life we live.

This is the real reason why we are joyful and hopeful on this beautiful night. This is why we are feeling within us a strange sense of longing. This is why we are rushing toward our Savior who has come to visit us in what we once thought was our barrenness.

Let the hope we feel tonight as God our Savior draws close to us stay with us now and always. Let the joy we feel tonight as God our Friend comes to us in love be the motivating force in how we live our lives throughout this coming year.

God is here. God is in our midst tonight.  God is so near, our very bodies and souls are rejoicing. And God loves us.  So, let us greet this Savior tonight with all that we have within us and let us welcome God into the warm shelter of our hearts. Amen.