Let It Be

A Sermon for the 4^th Sunday of Advent (RCL B) 12-18-2011

Offered by Nathan Ferrell for Trinity Episcopal Shared Ministry

Texts:              2 Samuel 7:1-11,16; Canticle 15; Romans 16:25-27; Luke 1:26-38

Themes:         Mary, Theotokos, change, discomfort
Title:               Let It Be

Let the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our Strength and our Redeemer. Amen +

Before you sit down, my friends, I will ask you to do one thing. Please move forward one pew. OK? Before you sit down, everyone please move into the pew in front of you. Just one pew forward, that’s all. OK?

There. You did it! Excellent work! Now, was that a bit uncomfortable? Was my request an inconvenience? Good, because today is our time to reflect together upon Mary, the Mother of God, and especially upon how God so completely interrupted and inconvenienced her life.

Our entrance hymn this morning was an old classic appointed for the Feast of the Annunciation on March 25: “The angel Gabriel from heaven came, his wings as drifted snow, his eyes as flame.”

I love this carol. It is quaint, lovely, pious poetry from an old Basque carol, but – to be honest – I doubt very much that this is how it actually occurred.

White wings, flaming eyes, blazing light! Is this how angels really appear?

Well, what about that admonition from the Letter to the Hebrews which calls us to practice hospitality “for by doing that some have entertained angels without knowing it” (Hebrews 13:2)?

This is more likely, I think. Angels – those messengers of God – are more likely to come among us without fanfare, without flaming eyes, to walk among us as strangers.

I picture Gabriel walking into Mary’s home looking like an ordinary Jewish man, but as a stranger.

And in that part of the world, women have long been discouraged from conversing with strange men, lest they bring dishonor upon their family by suspicion of wrongdoing.

The message brought by this stranger is itself a strange one, and troubling. What is worse still, it was quite inconvenient.

To be pregnant while still engaged to be married? Before the wedding itself? And to have God as the Father of the child? Who could ever believe her story?

This is not at all how Mary had pictured her life to be. 

Gabriel had said that she had found favor with God, but this angelic news was difficult and troubling and uncomfortable.

This should be no great surprise, of course, because that is God’s specialty, after all.

God is the Inconvenient One.

God is the One continually interrupting our lives. God is continually inconveniencing us with plans and goals and purposes which we have not yet chosen for ourselves.

But that, my friends, is a good thing, a very good thing indeed.

Because the basic struggle and challenge of our lives is learning how to deal with change.

Why is it that the ordinary, instinctual human response to change seems to be resistance and anger?

We live in a world, and in a universe or a multiverse, that is constantly changing. Everything is in motion; everything is continually shifting and moving and changing.

Long ago, the Greek philosopher Plato spoke of God as “the unmoved Mover”, the unchangeable Being that set everything else in motion. But given what we know of reality today, it is more fitting to think of God as “the Moving Mover”!

Everything is in flux and motion, and in the midst of all of this movement, God is present, working out plans and purposes that we cannot comprehend.

It is an illusion for us to cling to those few things which only appear to be unchanging around us, as if we can hold onto them and wrestle some security for ourselves out of them by the sheer force of our will!

But this is a lie. The Gospel calls us to truth, and the truth is that everything is changing continually and we have no control over that whatsoever.

What we do have control over is ourselves, at least, this is what we are working on!

There are very few of the major changes of life that are within my control, but I can control how I respond – how I think and feel and act in response to these things.

There is another song that comes to my mind when I hear this story of the Annunciation, a song that is very different from the hymns and carols of the church. It was first sung by a young man named Paul. Most of you know it. You can join in, if you like.

When I find myself in times of trouble,

Mother Mary comes to me,

Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.

And in my hour of darkness,

She is standing right in front of me,

Speaking words of wisdom, let it be.

Let it be, let it be, let it be, O let it be.

Whisper words of wisdom, let it be.

(If you don't know this song,...ouch! You need to hear it. Look here: Let It Be on YouTube)

Now, if you know the story, Paul McCartney is not singing of Mary, the Mother of God. He is speaking here of a dream in which he saw his own deceased mother who visited him and gave him a word of comfort during a difficult time.

But when I hear this song, I can’t help but to think of our Mother Mary and of her response to Gabriel in the midst of her own time of trouble: “Let it be.”

“Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word” (Luke 1:38).

And here, my sisters and my brothers, is our example of one who lives in accordance with the truth.

We speak of Mary as the Blessed Virgin, the Mother of God. All of the Church acclaims her as the Theotokos – the God-bearer. David desired to build God a house on earth, but she is the divine Tabernacle, the true Temple, in which God came to dwell on the earth. She is the new Eve, who overcame, by her trust and confidence, the disorder wrought by the ego-centered choice of the first Eve. It is her body which was taken up by Jesus and through which the world was redeemed.

She is worthy of honor, worthy of praise. But don’t misunderstand! Mary had a choice to make.

God brought drastic and sudden and unexpected change into her life. She did not ask for it. She was not preparing for it. And when it came, she had a choice to make. How would she respond to this change?

We are like her. God brings change into all of our lives  - sudden, drastic, unexpected. It comes into all of our lives, and rarely – if ever! - do our lives progress the way that we had envisioned.

When change is brought to us, we have a choice to make. How will we handle it?

We can complain. We can fight the change. We can pout. And so we can continue on in our spiritual immaturity, clinging to the falsehood of our own desire to control.

Or we can choose to see in each change an opportunity to grow, a chance to become more than what we are now.

When confronted by the unwanted changes in life, we can in fact choose to respond with trust and confidence, like Mary, and so to give praise to God who fills the hungry with good things.

May it always be so among us and among all who are preparing to greet the festival of Christ’s birth with joy. Amen.

"We See a Gardener"

"We See a Gardener":
 a prayer-poem for the Paschal Season by Jennifer Heckart
found in Women's Uncommon Prayers (p. 29).

Risen Lord,
so often encountered,
so seldom recognized,
you meet us in the gardens of our hearts,
on the lonely roads of our lives,
on empty beaches, and greet us.
But in our blindness,
we mistake you for someone else.
Through our tears, we see a gardener;
in our weariness and wariness, a stranger.
But you call us back to ourselves.
Forgive us our hard-heartedness,
our lack of understanding.
Open our eyes and our ears to you,
wherever you are found,
and give us grace to love you with abandon,
to throw ourselves into your service,
as Mary threw herself at your feet,
as Peter threw himself into the sea.
Amen.

Those Who Wear Soft Robes

A Sermon for the Third Sunday of Advent (A RCL 12/12/2010),

offered by Nathan Ferrell for Trinity Episcopal Shared Ministry

Texts: Isaiah 35:1-10; Canticle 15; James 5:7-10; Matthew 11:2-11

 

My brothers and sisters: What does it mean to be a prophet?

What is the peculiar gift, the particular calling of a prophet? During this Advent season, we are called to remember the prophets, to recall the special gift of the prophet’s voice. They are the ones we recall now as preparing the way of the Lord, making the way clear for Jesus to come into the world as the long-promised Messiah.

But what exactly is a prophet? How do we define this calling? If you consult with secular authorities, they may say that a prophet is one who predicts future events. But, within the biblical sense, a prophet rather is one who speaks who special authority from God, one who is chosen to be a dedicated mouthpiece through which God can speak to humanity. Predicting events of the future, of course, is only secondary, peripheral to the task of communicating truth, to the mission of bringing light into places of darkness.

If you ever attend a Pentecostal or charismatic worship event, then you might discover that there are people even today in these congregations who claim to speak with a prophet’s authority. I heard a story of one such woman who stood up during worship, claiming that God had given her a word of prophecy for the congregation. Everyone listened with attention as she stood in a trance-like state and then spoke with a deep, commanding voice of authority and said: “Thus says the Lord – even as Moses led the animals into the ark, even so shall I lead my people to safety, if they will trust in me!”

Then she sat down, but people in that gathered community immediately started whispering amongst themselves. “Did she say Moses? I think she said Moses!” And suddenly, after a few minutes, the supposed prophetess stood up again and, once again in her trance-like state she declared: “Thus says the Lord – it wasn’t Moses, it was Noah!”

And everyone tried as hard as possible to muffle their laughter!

But it’s not just the way they speak that defines a prophet. James points to the prophets as showing us the way of faithfulness not only with their words but also in their lives: “As an example of suffering and patience, beloved, take the prophets who spoke in the name of the Lord” (James 5:10).

John the Baptist surely qualifies in that regard. Thrown into prison, he patiently waited for Jesus to reveal himself as the Messiah. But he was only human after all, and it seems that eventually even his patience began to run out!

There’s a new commercial running right now for the new Windows phone. I bet that many of you have seen it. They call it “a phone to save us from our phones”.

Windows 7 Phone commercial

The commercial shows a number of people doing ridiculous things while distracted on their phones. The things they are doing are ridiculous, but also common in the sense that we have seen others doing similar ridiculous things. And all the while in the commercial, puzzled bystanders are watching and asking the question: “Really?”

Well, this is John the Baptist’s “really?” moment. He’s in jail now. He cannot be active in his ministry any longer. And so as a puzzled bystander, he is watching and he is asking the question: “Really? Really, Jesus? Is this it? Is this what you are up to after all?”

It must have been hard for John the Baptist. After all, he is your classic Type-A personality, doing everything with precision, by the book. Don’t you get that sense when you imagine John the Baptist? Eating only locusts and wild honey, wearing very odd, rough clothing. Only sleeping out-of-doors. Never swaying from his task of bringing God’s message to the people with seriousness and sternness. If God is going to call him to be a prophet, then he’s going all out to be the best prophet possible!

But he is sent to prepare the way for Jesus, after all. And the Lord Jesus comes, and what does he do? He eats dinners with prostitutes and tax collectors! He drinks wine with Pharisees! This is not quite what John the Baptist had in mind! Can you blame him for being a bit perplexed and confused?

But there is another prophet who is brought before us today for our consideration. Another prophet who shows perhaps even more clearly an example of suffering and patience. For who can possibly exemplify patience and suffering better than a mother?

Even blessed Mary, the mother of the Lord, is a prophet, one who speaks with her life as well as her words. Today, in our responsive reading labeled in our Prayer Book as Canticle 15, Mary speaks to everyone with prophetic power and vision in her classic song of praise, the Magnificat.

I asked us to pray Mary’s song all together today, because I hope that you can feel the hope and the longing in her song which runs so deep in this text. Her song is our song. Her song is the church’s song. Her prophetic words reveal the two-edged sword of God’s word: it brings hope to those who suffer, but announces danger to those who are safe and secure. “God has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty.”

These two sides are always present in God’s communication with us. It is commonly said that the task of a preacher is always twofold. It is said that the task of a preacher is to comfort the afflicted, and also to afflict the comfortable.

Each person is unique, and each situation in life demands a different response. But it is possible to look at society as a whole, and to discern certain movements and attitudes which hold sway within a given human society at one time or another. And so I ask you this: from your perspective, which one of these two aspects of preaching, do you think, is most needed today, in our own time and place? To comfort the afflicted, or to afflict the comfortable? To bring a word of hope, or a word of challenge?

I’m afraid that we need a bit of affliction right now. Even in the midst of this recession, this economic downturn which has affected so many of us, even now, we as a people are very comfortable. Jesus said that “those who wear soft robes are in royal palaces” (Matthew 11:8) and in his day, this was a simple observation. But in our nation today, we all like to wear soft robes, don’t we? We don’t have royal palaces here – thank God! – but instead we all wish to live like royalty, with all the luxuries that we can get our hands on.

But what have we lost, what have we given away with our rush to acquire luxuries and soft robes and to accumulate all of the finest things in life? As a whole, we have become weak, afraid to sacrifice, unwilling to be challenged for the greater good.

Do you know that back in the early centuries of the church, in Ireland and the Celtic lands, that anyone who wished to be ordained first had to demonstrate that they had memorized the entire book of Psalms? All 150 Psalms recited from memory? By listening to the requirements today, you would think that things have gotten more difficult rather than less!

Did you also hear how the United States Army recently revised its Basic Training program for the first time in 30 years?

General Interviewed about changes

They had to change it in order to address two general problems with new recruits: lack of fitness and excessive weight. In short, this means that the average Army recruit today is not physically able to handle the Basic Training program of past generations.

Look even at our Advent observance! How quick we are to bypass the rigor of Advent’s spiritual preparation in order to jump right into the cookies and parties and celebrations of Christmas! Let’s face it: we, as a people, we have become soft and weak. And so, I believe that God calls out to us today with a challenge and a rebuke. The One who casts down the mighty from their thrones is calling us to seek the things that are above, to renew our focus upon those things that have eternal meaning and value.

May you and I be among those who are able to hear this divine challenge and respond to it with energy, enthusiasm and trust. Amen.

One in a Million

Sermon for 12 Pentecost C RCL 8/15/2010, Offered by Nathan Ferrell for Trinity Episcopal Shared Ministry

Texts: Isaiah 5:1-7; Psalm 80: 1-2, 8-18; Hebrews 11:29-12:2; Luke 12:49-56

In the Name of the Father, and the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

“Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses, let us also lay aside every weight and the sin that clings so closely” (Hebrews 12:1).

Have you ever stood in a cloud? Have you ever stood on the top of a mountain that was shrouded by a cloud? If so, then you may recall that being in a cloud is liked being embraced – being completely engulfed – by an entirely different realm. I have been in many clouds while climbing the mountains of New England, and it has always been an amazing experience.

If you can call to mind this kind of experience, I want you to hold that in mind when you hear this famous verse of scripture from The Letter to the Hebrews: “Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses”. To be surrounded by this cloud is something like, I think, being on a mountain-top in the clouds. In this cloud, we are embraced by an entirely different reality. And if we are aware and awake to this reality, then it can have an enormous impact upon our everyday lives.

But rather than the darkness which accompanies the clouds stuck upon the mountain-tops, this great cloud is one of a million lights, and there is one light which shines out far beyond the others.

My friends, on this day we are bound to speak about this one who holds the pre-eminent position in this luminous embrace – this engulfment of encouragement – in which we live and move throughout our lives.

On this day every year – August 15, the church remembers and celebrates the events which surround the death of the Mother of our Lord. This date was specifically set aside by the Roman Emperor in the year 600 AD as a feast to celebrate the falling asleep of Mary.

In Rome, they call this day the Feast of the Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary. In Moscow and Alexandria and Damascus, they call this the Dormition of the Theotokos.

In the Anglican sphere, we have tended to be much more cautious about those matters not clearly illuminated by Holy Scripture, but you can see an obvious reference to the glorious events surrounding the death of Mary even in our appointed Collect for this day, which we will pray together in just a few minutes.

But no matter what different leaders of the church might call this Feast, what we all celebrate annually on this 15th day of August is of crucial importance. In fact, what happens on August 15 to Mary completes that which began on December 25 in the Incarnation of Christ.

Now, I contend that no one needs to get entangled in the quagmire of debate concerning the doctrines which surround Mary in order to appreciate and celebrate the simple and radiant facts of her life.

She alone among women was chosen to be the mother of God, the living tabernacle in which God came to dwell, the source from which the Living Water began to flow. She gave the full assent of her will to the gracious will of God. She bore and nursed the Word of Life. She was present at all the key events in the life of her Son. On the day of Pentecost, she was there with the Apostles when the Holy Spirit came down in flames of fire.

This much is clear from the scriptures. According to tradition, Mary continued to live in Jerusalem with different apostles. Eventually, she died and the apostles gathered together to bid her farewell. They served as her pall-bearers as they carried her body to her tomb with prayers and songs of praise. But one apostle was missing, and of course, this was St. Thomas, Doubting Thomas who also was missing when the resurrected Christ first appeared to the apostles. When St. Thomas arrived 3 days later, he requested to enter her tomb so that he too could bid her farewell. But when the tomb was opened, her body was gone.

In our first reading, we heard a poem today from the hand of the prophet Isaiah. It expresses God’s desire for the people of Israel, and God’s disappointment that they had not yet produced the fruit that God desires.

“God dug it and cleared it of stones, and planted it with choice vines; [God] built a watchtower in the midst of it, and hewed out a wine vat in it; [God] expected it to yield grapes, but it yielded wild grapes” (Isaiah 5:2).

But finally, after a long wait, Israel did in fact produce the finest of all grapes, the fruit of true inner goodness, a flower of amazing beauty. In Mary, our Mother, we see the complete journey of a life that has been transformed by acceptance of the grace of God.

My friends, I truly believe this. The early fathers and mothers of the church believed it and celebrated it. It makes sense. Think about this: what is the end for those who are full of grace? What could be the end for the one who gave her flesh, her body so that the world might be redeemed?

The full process of salvation was completed in her, in her soul and her flesh.

But let us be clear in understanding that this was not a resurrection like that of her Son, our Lord Jesus. What happened to Mary is what the Bible teaches will happen to all God’s faithful people. It is the end for which we all pray and wait. When the final trumpet sounds, the dead will rise in the flesh and stand before the presence of God. The only difference is that Mary did not have to wait. She was taken into the heavens immediately to dwell forever before God. And what does she do there? She does what this entire great cloud of witnesses does; what all the saints do, of course. She intercedes on our behalf, and on behalf of the entire world.

The Lord said that he came to bring fire to the earth. We understand now that this fire is the gift of the Holy Spirit, the One who fills the disciples with power and strength to live in the kingdom of God. But it was the Virgin Mary, the God-bearer, who first received the power of the Holy Spirit into her very being and who experienced the full potential of the grace of God. Praise be to God for her example, and for her prayers on our behalf.

Let us pray:

O God, you have taken to yourself the blessed Virgin Mary, mother of your incarnate Son: Grant that we, who have been redeemed by his blood, may share with her the glory of your eternal kingdom; 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.

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.

My Soul Magnifies the Lord

Sermon for 4 Advent RCL C 12/20/2009, offered by Nathan Ferrell for Trinity Episcopal Shared Ministry

Texts: Micah 5:2-5a; Canticle 15; Hebrews 10:5-10; Luke 1:39-55

Please indulge me, friends, as we begin, with just a few words about the mystery and magic of snow. I love snow. To be honest, I’m a bit addicted to it. For me, snow is a metaphor for the grace of God. Just like the Lord, snowstorms are quite unpredictable. When the snow falls, it changes everything. My plans get tossed out the window, and snow forces me to change how I go about my regular, daily activities. Snow causes me to slow down, to move more carefully and thoughtfully. Snow quiets the world. It pushes away the fast-paced rush of life. Snow causes neighbors to talk to each other, even when we usually just rush past each other on normal busy days. Just like the grace of God, everything looks different when touched by the snow. It brings beauty to everything it touches. This is how snow reminds me of the grace of God.


But that is just a minor aside. Because today, the Church calls us to remember the Mother of our Lord, the Blessed Virgin Mary. Today, we hear of her blessedness and we hear her song of praise. This song, ever sing its recording, has been beloved and been sung everywhere in the world where the Gospel has been heard.

Many of you will remember the old translation of the Magnificat and how it begins in this way: “My soul doth magnify the Lord.” Our newer version tries to make the text a bit more understandable by phrasing it this way: “My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord.” But the older version actually gets the original text correctly.

We can see the original wording right here in the Latin title of this most amazing poem: the Magnificat. The Magnifier. The original Greek verb here is megaluno, and it means literally to make something larger or greater. To make something appear great.

But this begs the question: how can we human beings ever speak of magnifying the Lord? What can God ever gain from our words? What can we give to God to fill any divine need whatsoever?

Nothing at all. God does what God wills. God is who God is. Our words, our thoughts, our praises and thanksgiving cannot give God anything that God does not already have. Of course, we can never add anything to God. But we can, in fact, magnify God, just as the blessed Virgin here suggests, as she speaks with prophetic voice.

Our family’s good friend, and neighbor, is a crystallographer at Bristol Meyer Squibb up in Princeton. She studies the crystalline structure of chemicals by magnifying the molecules thousands of times so that their helpful or beneficial qualities can be seen and identified.

To magnify these chemical compounds in this way does not change what they are; it simply allows people to see what has been there all along.

Likewise, when we magnify the Lord, we do nothing to change the Lord; we simply allow people to see more clearly what God has been all along.

I was thinking about the process of magnifying yesterday as I was shoveling snow – which is one of my favorite activities, don’t you know! Have you seen how mountaineers who are climbing on glaciers must wear special sunglasses to block out the sun? If they don’t, they are sure to suffer from snow blindness. The snow magnifies the power of the sun’s rays. It doesn’t change the rays of the sun, but it enhances their effect upon human eyes.

This is what it means when blessed Mary says, “My soul magnifies the Lord.” She had no power in herself to add to anything to what the Lord does, nor to take away from it.

These words are prophetic, spoken with inspiration from the Holy Spirit. The soul of Mary, (Mariam is the Greek) does indeed magnify the Lord by making it easier to see how the Lord works in the hearts of human beings. She does this by her faithfulness and obedience. “Blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.”

Mary, the faithful one, is the second Eve, the one who corrects by faithfulness what has previously gone astray due to unfaithfulness. St. Irenaeus, who lived and wrote in the second century, had this to say about our blessed Mother:

“Just as Eve, seduced by an angel’s message, turned away from God in betraying his word, so Mary, welcoming an angel’s message, bore God within her in obeying his word. Eve had been led to disobey God, but Mary consented to obey him, and so the Virgin Mary became the advocate of the virgin Eve” (Against the Heresies).

Mary is the Theotokos, the God-bearer. That is her proper title. She is the pinnacle of all created beings. This is why she is hailed as the Queen of Heaven. This is right and true, but many people get lost in these titles. We must never allow her exalted status now blind us to the role as our mentor, our teacher, our role model who gives us the perfect image of what it looks like when a human being opens her heart completely to the Lord.

God spoke to her. She trusted and believed and obeyed. And she became the spring out of which Living Water flowed to re-create the world. And thus she magnified the Lord, making him clearly known to all peoples.

My dear friends: it is the goal of the Christian life that, like Mary, we become a lens, a magnifying glass, if you will, through which people are able to see God better and more clearly; so that when people look at you, what they see is the goodness and love of God.

You may ask yourself, “Well, how is this possible? How can I ever really live that way?” That’s a good question, because the truth is that by yourself, you can never do it.

Only if you allow yourself to be transformed by the Holy Spirit can this thing happen. Only if, like Mary, you open yourself completely and say, let your will be done in me, only then can it happen.

This song of Mary, this Magnificat, is the evening song of the Church, and it has been sung at the setting of the sun each and every day for thousands of years now.

Give it a try, my friends. Let it be your song at the end of each working day, and let your life be a lens through which those around you can see the majesty and magnificence of the Lord. Amen.

Blood Gushes Out

A Homily for Good Friday 2009 (4/10/2009), Offered at Church of the Holy Spirit, Bellmawr, NJ

There’s an old celtic story from Ireland about a conversation between Mary and Jesus when he was a young boy.

“Are you asleep, Mother?” Jesus asks.

“No, I am awake, dear Son.”

“Why are you awake, Mother?”

“Because I am distressed by a vision of you.”

“What is that vision, Mother?”

“It is a slim dark man, on a black horse, with a long
sharp lance in his left hand. He pierces your right side, and blood gushes
out.”

“Where does the blood fall, Mother?”

“It falls into my heart and into the hearts of all that love you.”
(Celtic Fire, by Robert Van de Weyer, 1990, p. 162-3).

Why do we call this day good? How can we give such a positive appellation for a day of suffering and pain, forced upon one who never deserved such treatment?

In the eastern churches, it is called Great Friday because it stands apart from and above every other Friday of the year. Perhaps the title of good derived from that ancient title many hundreds of years ago.

Of course, we know now why it is Good Friday. In this cross, we discover who we really are. What other people have been bought at such a cost? Who else in the history of humankind has ever willingly died to create a new community, to redeem a new nation?
-Because of this Good and Great Friday, we know that we are loved, we know that nothing – not even death – can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.

The blood which gushes forth from the cross falls into the hearts of all that love him. Does it fall into your heart? Does it touch your heart? Are you there, standing with the Blessed Mother at the foot of the cross, gazing on the one who was pierced?

I can think of no better place to stand. Stay there at the foot of the cross. Spend your entire life there with Mary, allowing the awesome majesty of love divine to ever hold sway over your heart and mind.

One more ancient Celtic song for our reflection upon the Cross:

“I adore the suffering King who feels my suffering; I love the sorrowing Lord
who knows my sorrow.

At his death, no fire came upon his captors to
burn them, no great flood rose to sweep them away; the earth did not open to
swallow them up; the sky did not fall to crush them.

No fierce
birds came to attack Pilate; no wild beast mauled the priests and the scribes;
no snake rose up to bite those who whipped Jesus.

He allowed them
to accuse him falsely, without opening his mouth. He let them drag him to the
cross with no words of reproof. He watched quietly as they drove nails into his
hands and feet.

He who created the universe, he who preserves the
universe, he whom the sun and moon obey, he who rules the stars, forsook his
mighty power.

So he suffered with us who suffer much; he sorrowed
with us who feel much sorrow.

I adore the suffering King who feels
my suffering; I love the sorrowing Lord who knows my sorrow.”
(Celtic Fire, by Robert Van de Weyer, 1990, p.167-8).

Amen.