Christmas Eve Homily - 2011

I'm a little behind in my blog posting. How is it that life can be so very busy? Well, I am now trying to catch up. Here you go...

A Sermon for Christmas Eve (RCL Year B) 12-24-2011

Offered by Nathan Ferrell for Trinity Episcopal Shared Ministry

Texts:              Isaiah 62:6-12; Psalm 97; Titus 3:4-7; Luke 2:1-20

Title:               Behold What You Are

Well, it has finally arrived, my dear friends. The sun has set on December 24, and our long Advent season of waiting has come to an end. And now our feast has begun!

Who here is excited that Christmas has arrived?

There is a nearly palpable feeling of hope and joy in the air during these days. It is a magical time of year and it feels easy to get swept up into the feeling. That is, if - of course – you are able to avoid the miles of traffic leading to the malls and the long lines at all of the cashiers in the grocery stores!

There can be no question that our Christmas celebration has been overtaken by advertisers and retailers in their frantic effort to make as much money as possible. Just watch the television commercials and anyone can see that what they are selling has nothing at all to do with the Christ Child in the manger in Bethlehem.

What began with St. Nicholas sharing some of his inheritance with poor girls in his town in order to save them from a life of shame and degradation has now blossomed into a frenzied rush of shoppers searching for the best deals and the perfect gifts.

This is unfortunate, and it is right for us in the church to distance ourselves from all of that consumerism, to hold it at arms length as we re-capture the true essence of our Christmas feast.

But it is true and right that Christmas is in fact all about gift-giving.

“For God so loved the world that he gave his only-begotten Son.”

Tonight, we receive once again the most perfect gift of all: Emmanuel, God with us.

In Cambridge, Massachusetts, there is the Abbey of the Society of St. John the Evangelist. These Episcopal monks are commonly known as the Cowley Fathers, because their order was begun in an English town named Cowley. Oftentimes, when these men celebrate the Holy Eucharist, the consecrated Bread and Wine are presented to the gathered community as the presiding priest says, “Behold what you are!” To which all those gathered respond, “May we become what we receive.”

We will do the same tonight, and throughout the seasons of Christmas and Epiphany. The words are printed in your bulletin in the order of service, just after the Lord’s Prayer. Do you see them? Let’s practice it once together now:

            “Behold what you are!

            May we become what we receive!”

The Body of Christ was given birth by blessed Mary, and this is what we celebrate now.

But we also receive that same Body of Christ here at the Altar.
And the reason why we receive this Body is so that we might become that Body!

For by the grace of God, we are the Body of Christ! Us! Here! Can you believe it?

We are the Body of Christ active and working in the world today.

In the beginning of John’s Gospel, we hear the amazing summary of the Incarnation: “The word became flesh and dwelt among us.”

There is a trajectory in the Scriptures, a macro-movement of God’s interaction with the world, of word becoming flesh.

Once God spoke from above, a voice out of the dark cloud filled with fire and lightning.

But here we see God living among us, a baby crying and hungry and being soothed with his mother’s milk.

This is still the direction of God’s action in the world – taking the ideas, the hopes and dreams of God and making them real in flesh-and-blood human beings.

The Body of Christ here today. We embody that movement today. We are the ones who are called to take this amazing good news of Emmanuel – God with us in love and compassion and mercy – to take this news and to make it a reality in our daily lives.

Not just now, not just in December and January during this special season. But also in March and in July and in September. In every day in which the sun rises over us.

So now it’s time for us to give our gifts.

Our gift back to Jesus is to become what we receive!

After all, it is Jesus’ birthday! Give him the gift of letting his Word become flesh in you.

Give him the gift of becoming what you truly are! The Body of Christ taken, blessed, broken and given in order to love your enemies, to feed the hungry, to visit the prisoners, to set the captives free.

Trust me when I tell you that giving this gift to Jesus is also the perfect gift that you can give to your loved ones as well.

When we become the Body of Christ alive today, we become a channel of God’ grace and compassion and forgiveness and love to those around us.

Tonight, tomorrow, during these 12 days of celebration and joy, as you look into the manger, as you look to the Child who is born as the Prince of Peace, slow down and behold what you are!

And may we all become what we receive from his grace and love!

O come, let us adore him. Amen.

the celebrants of life - Schmemann

Fr. Alexander Schmemann

A profound meditation on eucharist as the lens through which we understand all of human life, written by the great (late) Alexander Schmemann, orthodox Dean of St. Vladimir's Seminary:

We already know that food is life, that it is the very principle of life and that the whole world has been created as food for [humanity]. We also know that to offer this food, this world, this life to God is the initial "eucharistic" function of [humanity], [our] very fulfillment as [humans]. We know that we were created as celebrants of the sacrament of life, of its transformation into life in God, communion with God. We know that real life is "eucharist", a movement of love and adoration toward God, the movement in which alone the meaning and value of all that exists can be revealed and fulfilled. We know that we have lost this eucharistic life and, finally, we know that in Christ, the new Adam, the perfect [human], this eucharistic life was restored to [humanity]. For he himself was the perfect Eucharist; he offered himself in total obedience, love and thanksgiving to God. God was his very life. And he gave this perfect and eucharistic life to us. In him, God became our life.

They Have No Wine!

Sermon for 2 Epiphany RCL 2010, Offered by Nathan Ferrell for Trinity Episcopal Shared Ministry

Texts: Isaiah 62:1-5; Psalm 36:5-10; 1 Corinthians 12:1-11; John 2:1-11

When the wine was all consumed at the wedding feast in Cana of Galilee, the mother of Jesus came to her Son, who was enjoying the feast there with his new disciples, and said, “They have no wine.”

Who is it that intervenes to help in this situation? It is the mother, of course. No great surprise there. But in this story, it is not the mother of the bride, but rather the Mother of God. Mary explains the situation to Jesus, and it seems that she expects him to immediately jump to fix the problem, but he is not inclined to this. His hour has not yet come. He was not ready to respond, not yet ready to jump into action and to start his ministry of power among the people.

But there is no one who has as much of a claim upon the heart of a son as his mother. Jesus is prevailed upon to display his glory through the insistence of his mother, Mary.

Mary’s direction to the servants is paramount: “Do whatever he tells you.” Do whatever he tells you. God despises coercion. The blessing of the wine for this feast, the miracle of water changed into wine, depended entirely upon the servants taking orders from someone who had no standing at all there in the wedding, no position of influence. For all that they knew, Jesus was simply the son of a woman who was a friend of the family. Why take orders from him? Let’s remember: carrying 150 gallons of water in heavy stone jars is no small task! Besides, I am certain that there were many other things to be done. But, they listened to Mary’s guidance and they did as Jesus asked. And God’s glory was revealed.

How often is God’s blessing not poured into our lives because of our unwillingness to listen to what the Mother of God says, because of our unwillingness to do what Jesus tells us? The truth of our life is that God has given us all of the guidance that we need to live full, joyful, abundant, fulfilled lives. The task is ours to put this guidance into practice.

Just look at what happens when people listen simply and directly to what Jesus says. This amazing story is about abundance, extravagance, and transformation.

The amazing abundance of wine is a sign. The Hebrew prophets had often used the image of overflowing wine as a sign of the endtimes when God would restore the fortunes of the people or even simply as a sign of God’s tremendous goodness. Remember the beloved 23rd Psalm: “You have anointed my head with oil; my cup runs over.”

Here we see Jesus at the very beginning of his earthly ministry miraculously providing a huge amount of wine. 150 gallons of good, fine wine! And here at the end of the feast when most of the guests were already drunk!

It is clear that the Gospel writer intends for this story to be astounding. It is meant to teach us something very important. When the wine of life runs out, Jesus provides a superabundance of grace beyond anything that our human minds can comprehend.

It is no coincidence that in our lives today as disciples of Jesus we experience grace upon grace bestowed upon us in the amazing feast of the Eucharist which is itself beyond anything our minds can comprehend. At the wedding feast in Cana of Galilee, the water is changed into wine, and here at this weekly feast the wine is changed into the life-giving blood of Christ our Lord.

God’s glory, divine power, and grace is offered to us in many diverse ways, but pre-eminently here at this table. Jesus calls us, his family, to gather at the table to feast, but we must do whatever he tells us. “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood have eternal life, and I will raise them up on the last day” (John 6:54). True life is freely offered to us, but it is our task to get up and get out the door to gather where this grace is so freely offered.

The Gospel reading this morning ends by saying: “Jesus did this, the first of his signs, in Cana of Galilee, and revealed his glory; and his disciples believed in him.” In the Church, Jesus does thing, an amazing sign each time we gather, and he reveals his glory among us; and we believe in his power and goodness.

This is the story that the Gospel of John presents to us today. But to be honest, my friends, it feels very difficult to talk about God’s abundant grace in these days. Our country is dealing with financial trouble, with many in our communities still unemployed. Our congregations wrestle with meeting our financial burdens and taking care of our facilities. And of course, we have just witnessed a horrendous earthquake to strike Haiti and cause human pain and suffering on a massive scale. This earthquake is likely to go into the record books as one of the 10 deadliest natural disasters in recorded history.

In addition to the grim statistics, it is right for this disaster to affect us Episcopalians even more deeply. The Diocese of Haiti is the largest, most numerous diocese in The Episcopal Church. And in an era of falling church attendance and the closing of churches, Haiti has been our brightly shining exception. The Episcopal Diocese of Haiti has continued to open new missions and new churches, and their attendance has been steadily increasing. At least in Haiti in recent years, the mission and message of our church has been appreciated and received by many.

But we know that Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today and forever (Hebrews 13:8). So if this is the same Lord who made such a super-abundance of wine available at this wedding feast in Cana, we must ask the question: what can He do now in Haiti? If this Lord had the ability then to change ordinary water into the most excellent wine, then what can He do with the immense destruction of Haiti?

O Lord, our hearts are troubled and we ask you: can you change that immense pain into new hope? Can you, Lord alter that devastation so that it becomes a place of healing and new life?

After all, that is the mystery that we are talking about here. When Jesus first replies to his Mother’s concern, he states: “My hour has not yet come.” In the Gospel of john, that is a clear reference to the Passion of the Lord. Later in the 12th chapter, Jesus makes the connection clear: “Now the hour has come for the Son of Man to be glorified” (John 12:23). In His Passion, the Lord takes a brutal and horrible death and turns it into a source of unending life and healing. THAT, we believe, is how God works! Bringing light into dark places, bringing life into places of death.

At this wedding feast at Cana, there was no great suffering, no terrible human need that called out the Lord’s response. They ran out of wine! So what?! I think they would have survived. But here…here in this dire situation in Haiti, the need is clear. And billions of prayers are being made each day now for the people of Haiti. Will the Lord hear and respond?

The answer may be up to us. After all, we are the body of Christ.

The collect for today has expressed this truth: Grant that your people, illumined by your Word and Sacraments, may shine with the radiance of Christ’s glory. And why? What happens when we do this? “That [Christ] may be known, worshiped, and obeyed to the ends of the earth.” So may the Lord listen to the prayers of his people, and also make us listen faithfully to Christ and do whatever he tells us, for the healing of the nations. Amen.

Understanding to Discern What is Right

Sermon for Proper 15 B (RCL), Offered by Nathan Ferrell at HS, Bellmawr & St. Luke’s, Westville

Texts: 1 Kings 2:10-12+3:3-14; Psalm 111; Ephesians 5:15-20; John 6:51-58

There is an old Irish story about St. Moling, who was the head of the monastery at Glendalough in the Wicklow mountains of Ireland sometime after the passing of St. Kevin.

Once a young musician with a harp came to the monastery and asked if he could play music for the monks. All of them were in the refectory then eating their supper, all except for Moling. After playing his beautiful music, he joined them in their meal. And after the meal, he asked which one of them was the famous Moling, who was known throughout the land for his holiness. The brothers told him that Moling was praying in the church, for this was one of the three days each week when the abbot fasted. So the young man took his harp to the church in order to play for Moling. The monks shook their heads, however, and smiled to themselves, because they knew that Moling never allowed himself the pleasure of hearing music.

The young man entered the church and saw Moling kneeling in prayer, so he sat next to the altar and began to play his harp. Moling did not even life his head or open his eyes, but took out 2 balls of wax from his pocket and stuffed them into his ears. The young man smiled and continued to play, and amazingly, the wax in Moling’s ears began to melt. Even though the saint tried to push the wax back in, it was no use, as it melted down his neck.

At this point, the young musician brought out a small stone and began to scrape it back and forth across the harp strings. This produced horrible screeching and Moling found it unbearable. He winced and writhed in agony. In a minute, the young man discarded the stone and played again so sweetly on the harp, that the saintly abbot was soothed and filled with great joy at the beauty of the music.

When the music stopped, Moling asked the young man: “Are you a devil sent to tempt me, or an angel sent to bless me?”

“You must make your own judgment”, the young man replied. “When I scraped my harp with a stone, it made the noise of the devil. And when I played it with my fingers, it made the sound of an angel. Music, like food and drink, can be an agent of evil, or a source of goodness.” Then the young man took his harp and left.

And from that time forward, Moling welcomed all musicians to play at the monastery. And he gave up fasting, except on the mandatory fast days when everyone fasts. And his brothers at the monastery noticed that from then onward, he became more gentle and kind, and that he had even acquired a sense of humor (Celtic Fire, ed. Robert Van de Weyer, p.200-204).

It’s an odd, old story perhaps, but one that illustrates the challenge of gaining wisdom by one of the saints of God. For today, the Church calls us to consider living with wisdom as a crucial part of the new life we have in Christ.

Here in our reading today from the First Book of Kings, we read of the famous request of the young King Solomon for wisdom. In his dream, God spoke to Solomon, offering him whatever his heart desired. Solomon asked not for wealth, not for victory over his enemies, not for a long life. He asked for practical wisdom in making prudent decisions on behalf of the nation.
This request pleased the Lord. God says that Solomon will indeed receive understanding to discern what is right. It seems on the surface to be an incredibly unselfish action by the new king. Solomon is known generally as the acme of wisdom in the Bible. But we do well to remember the larger picture of Solomon’s life. In order to secure his throne, Solomon had to kill his opponents; even one of his half-brothers, Adonijah, he had assassinated.
The truth is that we are never able to remove entirely the selfish impulse from our efforts. Every human being is selfish; it is in our nature to pursue self-preservation. We seek to protect ourselves and those we love from harm.
Solomon desired to be known as a great and wise King, one who faithfully led his nation. This is a worthy goal, but it is not entirely self-less.
The same is true of St. Moling, the Irish saint we heard about earlier. Surely, he was proud of his rigorous devotion. His ego was stroked by his widespread fame as a holy man.
As it was for Solomon, and for the saints of God, it is impossible for any of us to remove entirely our selfish motives from even the most generous of acts.

And this is why we need God’s wisdom so desperately. We need understanding to discern what is right, to see clearly our motives for what they are, to truly know ourselves. God’s wisdom then strengthens us to minimize the harmful effects of our selfishness by opening our eyes to see reality at a deeper level.

Saint Paul’s admonition today is right on target: “Be careful then how you live, not as unwise people but as wise, making the most of the time.” And if you reflect on this, you see how this can cut two ways. Some hear Paul’s words as a call to austerity, a demand for increased seriousness.

But the story of St. Moling shows how God’s wisdom leads us to a more balanced life. The musician-messenger sent to Moling helped to open his eyes to his own selfish pride in rejecting the good gifts that God provides in creation.

All of this points us back to the Living Bread which comes down from heaven and gives life to the world. As St. Paul states elsewhere, Christ IS the wisdom of God (1 Corinthians 1:24).

Now, this passage from St. John’s Gospel has long been a starting point for debate about the true nature of the eucharist. John’s Gospel speaks in such literal terms about the body and blood of Christ, that many in the first century and all of the centuries since have had difficulty in accepting them on face value. Many tomes have been written concerning these words to provide support for, or to deny, the idea of transubstantiation.

But that is not the point of John’s Gospel here. What Jesus offers is a radically different avenue to a relationship with God. To be with God is to be alive! To walk with Jesus through this life is to have access to the wisdom of God.

It is not enough simply to give mental assent to the idea of the real presence of Christ in the sacrament and to receive communion with faith. What good is it to do this and yet to not have the heart changed by the wisdom of God? Unfortunately, many of my fellow Roman priests have demonstrated this. How many of them have daily received Christ in his body and blood, and yet have then walked out and daily committed heinous crimes against innocent and defenseless children?

“Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them” (John 6:57).

Surely to have Christ abide in me means than simple ritual. It means that I am changed on the inside; that God’s wisdom has altered my outlook on the world; that my selfish impulses can be seen for what they are, and placed to the side in order to serve those around me.

To share my life with the life of Jesus Christ means that my heart is open so that he can live through me, weak and foolish and selfish though I may be.

It was the great Martin Luther who said: “God rides the lame horse and carves the rotten wood.” And that is good news for all of us. Amen.