Posted by stpauls on August 30, 2009 under Bible Readings, Webmaster Blog | 
Mark 7:1-8, 14-15, 21-23 ~ Gospel reading for August 30, 2009
Now when the Pharisees and some of the scribes who had come from Jerusalem gathered around him, they noticed that some of his disciples were eating with defiled hands, that is, without washing them. (For the Pharisees, and all the Jews, do not eat unless they thoroughly wash their hands, thus observing the tradition of the elders; and they do not eat anything from the market unless they wash it; and there are also many other traditions that they observe, the washing of cups, pots, and bronze kettles.) So the Pharisees and the scribes asked him, ‘Why do your disciples not live according to the tradition of the elders, but eat with defiled hands?’ He said to them, ‘Isaiah prophesied rightly about you hypocrites, as it is written,
“This people honours me with their lips,
but their hearts are far from me;
in vain do they worship me,
teaching human precepts as doctrines.”
You abandon the commandment of God and hold to human tradition.’
Then he called the crowd again and said to them, ‘Listen to me, all of you, and understand: there is nothing outside a person that by going in can defile, but the things that come out are what defile.’
‘For it is from within, from the human heart, that evil intentions come: fornication, theft, murder, adultery, avarice, wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, envy, slander, pride, folly. All these evil things come from within, and they defile a person.’
Posted by stpauls on under Sermons |
One of my favourite hymns is “Lift Every Voice and Sing.” It is a very little known hymn here in Canada, because it is sung predominantly in African American congregations in the United States. In fact, “Lift Every Voice and Sing” has been dubbed the “Negro National Anthem.” Initially, “Lift Every Voice and Sing” was a poem, written to commemorate Abraham Lincoln’s birthday in 1900. It was set to music soon thereafter and became quickly popular among African Americans. It is a religious hymn, but has a deep and profound social, political, and societal relevance.
Let me recite the first stanza of the hymn:
Lift every voice and sing,
‘Til earth and heaven ring,
Ring with the harmonies of Liberty;
Let our rejoicing rise
High as the listening skies,
Let it resound loud as the rolling sea.
Sing a song full of the faith that the dark past has taught us,
Sing a song full of the hope that the present has brought us;
Facing the rising sun of our new day begun,
Let us march on ’til victory is won.
Like so many other hymns coming from the black experience in North America, this is a hymn filled not just with hope for the future. This is the song of a people who are liberated. This is the anthem of a people who will not give up. This is the cry of people who will not be put down anymore. This is the chorale of a people who have experienced healing and salvation already. Yes, this is a political manifesto, but this is also the hymn of a people who have experienced the liberating message of the Gospel. For those singing this hymn, the Gospel of Jesus Christ indeed has become the Good News of God, the good news that liberates, that heals, that overcomes darkness and fear, and that turns things around in body, in mind and in soul.
Unlike so many hymns of the era from within more established classes, this is a hymn that does not just speak of a hope for a better life in heaven, neglecting the social, economic, and political realities. Neither does this hymn limit Christianity to a set of proper behaviour in this life, which was quite common among the power-elites in North America of the time. This hymn is neither saccharine, nor moralistic.
But for the African American tradition, the Christian message has a holistic claim, as it seeks to engulf and penetrate every fibre of our being and as it turns human beings around not just in our behaviour, but in who we are in our entirety. “Lift Every Voice and Sing” is not just on people’s lips. It is in their hearts: As those despised by the racist cultures in the United States and in Canada of the time, black Gospel musicians knew that salvation wasn’t just something left for Sunday mornings, a societal pastime, a topic of polite discussion over coffee, cucumber sandwiches, and sherry. But the liberation of body, mind, and soul takes hold of who you are, causes maybe even hardship and tears, but ultimately it was worth every single effort and sacrifice.
The descendents of slaves forced from the shores of Africa to this part of the world could see themselves in the Hebrew slaves of Egypt and in the exiled people of Israel, who filled the rivers of Babylon with their tears. No wonder, then, that African Americans and Afro-Canadians claimed for themselves the biblical story as a story of God’s liberation as a story of freedom in body, mind, and spirit offered by Jesus the Christ. And this understanding of the Bible is closer to God’s truth as revealed in Jesus Christ than the saccharine gibberish and the moralistic gobbledegook so often preached from pulpits that either do not want to deal with the eternal salvation offered to our souls in Jesus Christ or that neglect to fully embrace the Gospel, which speaks so insistently about the liberation of the marginalised, the poor, and the oppressed.
Here is the final verse:
God of our weary years,
God of our silent tears,
Thou who has brought us thus far on the way;
Thou who has by Thy might
Led us into the light,
Keep us forever in the path, we pray.
Lest our feet stray from the places, our God, where we met Thee,
Lest, our hearts drunk with the wine of the world, we forget Thee;
Shadowed beneath Thy hand,
May we forever stand,
True to our God,
True to our native land.
For the last decades, and particularly over the last few years, we in the Anglican Church have been fighting over the issue of human sexuality. Some say, we have become too soft on morals or are neglecting the biblical witness. Others say, we are not listening to the movement of the Spirit among us, who pushes and prods us into a new direction. A third group argues that the pure fact that we are fighting is not very attractive, is not very conducive to bringing in new members. And many have attributed our decline to this debate.
But I wonder if that is true.
I wonder if we can really blame the decline on our current debate. But I believe that we lost it when we decided to turn Christianity into a morality-based religion and when, in the words of “Lift Every Voice and Sing,” our hearts became drunk “with the wine of the world” and pushed our faith to the margins of our lives.
It really isn’t about our current debate. The seeds of the crisis were sown by the conformity and the complacency of the church in the 1950s. The problems we face today are seated in our obsession with morality and conduct, in our reliance on the traditions of the past without reclaiming them over and over again for us today, and in our status as God’s elite, as God’s frozen chosen! You know the joke: What does hell look like for Anglicans? In hell, Anglicans have to eat salad with the dessert-fork…
For too many years, Anglicanism has been associated with the rich and famous. We are used to having power way beyond what our membership implies. In addition, Anglicanism became all about doing the right things.
Going to church turned into a cultural “thing” akin to drinking tea, playing cricket, going to the opera, and keeping a stiff upper lip. The moral ideals and needs of the upper class triumphed over the radical challenges of Jesus. Cultural supremacy made us forget that we are called to be members of the Christ’s royal priesthood “from every tribe and language and people and nation.”1 Faith no longer penetrated the whole of our being, no longer called us to love of God and to justice for our neighbour. It became all about rules and regulations rather than about our relationship with God and with one another. The church forgot that the Gospel is more than a nice story, is more than a code of conduct, is more than a cultural attribute. Modern Anglicanism failed to remember that the Good News of God in Christ offers radical freedom for body, mind, and soul.
Archbishop Thomas Cranmer and the reformers of the English Reformation did not lose their lives for this kind of church! The Book of Common Prayer was not published so that we can all relax and enjoy the ride. But the Book of Common Prayer was written in the vernacular, so that its impact as a book of prayer for all people would be most profound, most far-reaching, and most universal. To reclaim the Bible and worship for all believers in “a Tongue as the people understandeth”2 was an attempt to make accessible the life-changing message of the Gospel for all in all aspects of life. The heart of the Reformation was liberation!
And of course, this is exactly what today’s reading from the Gospel of Mark talks about. Jesus offers not a code of conduct, rules and regulations, a new law, but Jesus offers life, life abundant and life eternal. And following this life is a radical departure from the life we live if our hearts are “drunk with the wine of the world.” It is a turn-around of 180 degrees.
Falling into the arms of the living God doesn’t mean we can have a wee bit of religion, maybe 200 g or 300 g, mixed in with a pound of cultural identity. It is not about following a prescribed set of rules that makes us abstain from “fornication, theft, murder, adultery, avarice, wickedness, deceit, licentiousness, envy, slander, pride, folly.”3
But falling into the arms of God means that God takes hold of us completely in body, mind and soul. It means being penetrated by God’s healing and restoration in every fibre of our being. It means worshipping God and singing God’s praises not just with our lips, but also with our hearts. It is about becoming fully God’s possession.
The Christian tradition calls this sobering from the wine of the world “metanoia.” It is a complete re-orientation, a complete re-direction from the ways of the world. Yet, this is not a horrific or horrible thing. But it is our hope and our salvation. Through metanoia, we can reclaim the amazing and awesome beauty that God intends for each and every one us. Metanoia allows us to experience and to realize the abundant and indiscriminate compassion and love of our God for you, for me, and for all of creation. Metanoia will restore us to our rightful place as God’s beloved children at the table in God’s kingdom. Metanoia offers life.
I do believe that many of us here have at St. Paul’s experienced Metanoia. Not unlike our African American and Afro-Canadian brothers and sisters, many of us experienced captivity and oppression. Yet, at St. Paul’s Anglican Church bodies find liberation, minds find rest, and souls find salvation – every day of every week of the year. This sacred place in the West End and its ministries have offered relief for many as we have been true to our God, and true to the radical message of the Gospel not just with our lips, but also in our hearts. Here, freedom in body, mind, and soul is offered and found – and not just in some distant future, but here and now.
This does, of course, not mean that we are perfect. There is still much to do. We are needed. There is a job waiting for us. We are not done.
So then, from the depth of our hearts:
Lift every voice and sing,
‘Til earth and heaven ring,
Ring with the harmonies of Liberty;
Let our rejoicing rise
High as the listening skies,
Let it resound loud as the rolling sea.
1 Revelation 5.9
2 39 Articles of Religion, Article XXIV
3 Mark 7.21f
[The Reverend Markus Duenzkofer delivered this sermon on August 30, 2009.]
Posted by stpauls on August 23, 2009 under Sermons |
Twenty-three years ago, I spent a year as an exchange student in the United States. As an almost 17 year-old, this was quite the undertaking! In preparation, I had to undergo a one-week orientation camp with other exchange students prior to departure. This camp not only provided us with basic information, it also tried to sensitize us to cross-cultural experiences, which are always loaded with misunderstandings and miscommunications. One way to teach us was through role-plays that really pushed our boundaries. And there is particularly one that came to mind as I was preparing for this sermon.
In this role-play, we were told that we were to “travel” to an imaginary country, which was located in the classroom next door. The people of this country would welcome us according to their local customs.
So, one by one we entered the classroom. In the centre of the room was a chair. On the chair sat a male “citizen” (a staff member), his eyes fixed on us as we entered. He was wearing normal clothing and shoes. Next to him on the ground kneeled a female “citizen” (another staff member). She didn’t wear anything out of the ordinary, but did not have shoes. As soon as we entered, the man placed his hand on the woman’s head and firmly pressed her head downwards. This was repeated a few times. After some time of observation, we went back to “our country” to debrief.
Of course, we were outraged! We couldn’t believe the misogyny and the blatant oppression of the women in this country. Cultural sensitivities are all good and well, but none of us wanted to stay in such a culture. Surely, nobody could expect us to just swallow injustices once we were exchange students! There is a limit to cultural tolerance!
And there indeed is.
However, the point of the exercise is that if we remain within our own cultural norms and our own cultural customs, we cannot understand alien cultures. You see, the reality of this imaginary culture was quite different. It was a society built on the worship of the divine “Mother Earth.” Earth was sacred, because she brought forth food and sustenance, she nurtured and gave birth to life in many forms. Because women were birth-givers akin to Mother Earth, they were considered more sacred than men. This was a matriarchy. Women were the only ones allowed to touch earth with their bare feet. Men had to wear shoes so as not to defile the earth. Women were allowed to sit on the ground, while men had to sit on chairs, removed from the earth. One of the duties of men was to remind each woman of her dominant position in society by tipping her head towards the sacred Mother Earth.
Of course, this was all made up. Sorry, there is no such country – even though this might sound lovely for some of you! But, of course, we were all stunned. Just because we observe something doesn’t mean it is true or that we understand its meaning, especially when it comes to another cultural setting. And this also goes for different time periods. What might look a certain way in 21st century Canada might mean something quite different in the 1st century Eastern Mediterranean.
You know where this is going… Yes, I am now talking about the Bible.
The Bible is divine revelation, but it is God’s revelation in the context of time and space. God’s revelation never occurs in a vacuum, but God chooses a particular cultural setting, and a particular time period. The beauty of this is that God very much sees us not as an abstract mass, but comes to us concretely, comes to us and meets us where we are, comes to seek us as partners in the divine plan of salvation. God reveals Himself not separate from us, but into our midst, into our reality, into our lives.
The problem, though, is that our reality changes. Our times are not the times of the biblical revelation. And our culture is not the culture of the Bible either. To blindly take the words written on the pages of the Bible and apply them indiscriminately to our context would therefore not only negate the historical context of God’s self-revelation, it also bears the danger that we might miss God’s revelation all together.
Consider, for example, the command to take an “eye for an eye.”1 There are still those in our time and age, who advocate for using this verse as a paradigm for our judicial system. For some, this not only justifies the death penalty, it requires it. However, what these fundamentalists fail to recognise is that the original verse was in fact a limitation on the judicial system. No longer could I burn your house, if you had stolen a hen. No longer could I cut off your ear, if you had slapped me. No longer could I slaughter your whole family if you had killed my brother. God told the people of God that they could not blindly seek revenge. There was a limit, and that limit was set because of God’s mercy. The verse actually reveals God’s mercy, which gets lost if we apply it literally today. It is about God’s mercy, which does not try to hold us back in old, loveless paradigms, but tries to constantly push us on to new shores and deeper understandings.
This is why I applaud the Scottish government for their courage to release Abdel Baset al-Megrahi, the only person found guilty of planting a bomb on the PanAm plane that exploded over Lockerbie. He was allowed to return to Libya this week, because he is a dying man, ravaged by cancer. It was an act of mercy by the Scottish government.
Yes, this is hard for the loved-ones of the victims. I understand their outrage. They have every right to be angry.
But in our civil society we do not appoint as judges those, who have been harmed. We place limits on what is possible, not unlike the limits placed on the judicial system by God when He revealed the concept of an eye for an eye. It is not about keeping the exact letter of the Word revealed in a different place, at a different time. It is about what God is saying to the churches through the letters of the Word today. Our cultural norms change, yet the underlying revelation of God’s mercy stands firm for ever.
The same is true for today’s text from the letter to the Ephesians.
Trust me, I was cringing when I heard it read, too. I had a particularly visceral reaction, because it is actually the wrong text for today. I could have easily avoided preaching on this! When I started preparing for the sermon at the beginning of last week, I used the wrong lectionary, the wrong book to find out which texts are appointed for today. Yes, there are Christians who will hear the verses we just heard… just not other Anglicans.
Yet, I do wonder if those in charge of creating our lectionary made a conscious choice not to include these verses that seem oh-so-ghastly. Which, if true, would actually be bit dishonest on their part… In the end, I believe that the Bible is not a multiple-choice text. Yes, there are horrendous texts, but we cannot just exclude them. Who are we to think we can be censors? In fact, I do believe that even through texts that annoy the heck out of us, God can and does speak. And it is maybe particularly in the texts that do not fit our cultural sensibilities that we can learn more about God, more about God’s self-revelation in Holy Scripture, and more about our relationship with God. After all, God does seek to comfort the afflicted, but also to afflict the comfortable.
So, let’s have a look.
What Ephesians is trying to do is to use the realties of the times to talk about something spiritually profound. And just like I should not have used my cultural norms to judge another “culture” 23 years ago, so we should today not use our cultural norms to judge this text.
To call today’s text misogynistic would indeed be too simplistic. After all, the very concept of misogyny didn’t exist in 1st century Asia Minor. The author of the letters to the Ephesians was very much a child of his time and he operated within the cultural norms of the time. And these cultural norms included a social structure that saw women subservient to men. It is what it is and the author cannot but remain within this context.
This, of course, isn’t an excuse. Far from it. The text is problematic when we look at its social paradigms. In fact, for centuries (and in some places even today) the church used this very text to teach the “submission of women to men.” However, this interpretation lacks depth. In fact, the text really is not a normative text for intra-marriage relationships and should never be used at weddings.
Furthermore, let me be clear, misogyny and sexism are not part of God’s created order, and even failing to participate in eradicating the inequalities of women is a sin.
There are two deep insights that the text brings to light.
First of all, it reveals that no aspect of our lives should be removed from God’s embrace. Even the most intimate relationships should not exclude God. Religion, spirituality, whatever you may call your relationship with God is not just an aspect of life, a hobby, or a sidebar. It is about all that we are and all that we have. God reaches out to embrace it all. And Ephesians speaks about how all our relationships, even the most intimate ones, should be penetrated by God.
Secondly, just like the rest of Ephesians, this text speaks of the relationship between Christ and his church, which is as intimate and as close as the relationship of a marriage. And just like any relationship can only blossom because of love, so the only foundation for this intimate relationship between Christ and his church is love, the overflowing, abundant, mysterious, awesome and indiscriminate love of our triune God. God is no distant, abstract, random despot. God is no impersonal, indistinct mass or energy. But in Jesus Christ God seeks to be our lover, as mysterious and ungraspable as it may be.
Even in its archaic understanding of society, today’s text breaks new grounds as it speaks not of power and of authority in God’s relationship with us, but speaks of love. It is the love that seeks us out. It is the love that wills to embrace us. It is the love that carries and nurtures us. It is the love that delights in us, whoever we are. It is the love that does not even shy away to embrace our death, so that we will never be left alone. It is God’s love, for you, for me, and for all of creation.
1 Exodus 21.13
[The Reverend Markus Duenzkofer delivered this sermon on August 23, 2009.]
Posted by stpauls on under Bible Readings, Webmaster Blog |
John 6:56-69 ~ Gospel reading for August 23, 2009
Jesus said, “Those who eat my flesh and drink my blood abide in me, and I in them. Just as the living Father sent me, and I live because of the Father, so whoever eats me will live because of me. This is the bread that came down from heaven, not like that which your ancestors ate, and they died. But the one who eats this bread will live forever.” He said these things while he was teaching in the synagogue at Capernaum.
When many of his disciples heard it, they said, “This teaching is difficult; who can accept it?” But Jesus, being aware that his disciples were complaining about it, said to them, “Does this offend you? Then what if you were to see the Son of Man ascending to where he was before? It is the spirit that gives life; the flesh is useless. The words that I have spoken to you are spirit and life. But among you there are some who do not believe.” For Jesus knew from the first who were the ones that did not believe, and who was the one that would betray him. And he said, “For this reason I have told you that no one can come to me unless it is granted by the Father.” Because of this many of his disciples turned back and no longer went about with him. So Jesus asked the twelve, “Do you also wish to go away?” Simon Peter answered him, “Lord, to whom can we go? You have the words of eternal life. We have come to believe and know that you are the Holy One of God.”
Posted by stpauls on under Bible Readings, Webmaster Blog |
Ephesians 5:21-33 ~ Reading for August 23, 2009
Be subject to one another out of reverence for Christ. Wives, be subject to your husbands as you are to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife just as Christ is the head of the church, the body of which he is the Saviour. Just as the church is subject to Christ, so also wives ought to be, in everything, to their husbands. Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her, in order to make her holy by cleansing her with the washing of water by the word, so as to present the church to himself in splendour, without a spot or wrinkle or anything of the kind—yes, so that she may be holy and without blemish. In the same way, husbands should love their wives as they do their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself. For no one ever hates his own body, but he nourishes and tenderly cares for it, just as Christ does for the church, because we are members of his body. “For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife, and the two will become one flesh.” This is a great mystery, and I am applying it to Christ and the church. Each of you, however, should love his wife as himself, and a wife should respect her husband.
Posted by Priest on August 16, 2009 under Sermons |
Do you remember this nursery rhyme?
Mary, Mary, quite contrary,
How does your garden grow?
With silver bells, and cockle shells,
And pretty maids all in a row.
Mary remains one of the most controversial characters in the church, despite the fact that Mary is one of the central figures in the New Testament.
Mary, Mary, quite contrary.
Of course, I don’t think God had controversy in mind when He picked a young woman to bear His Son. For God, this choice was not so contrary as we sometimes make it out to be. God had His reasons. And even if we never fully figure out why God chose this young woman, which in the end is totally God’s prerogative, one thing remains clear: It really wasn’t about Mary. Within the Jewish setting of God’s revelation, Mary had one prerequisite to fulfill, and one prerequisite only: She had to be human.
Mary didn’t have to be special, different, better, more holy, or closer to God. She had to be one of us. Despite the fact that some of her veneration gets out of hand at times, Mary is not part of the Godhead. Mary is not God or even a demi-goddess. She was born of a biological father and a biological mother. Created by God, just like you and me. She is first and foremost one of our human sisters.
So why then all this fuss about Mary? Why did she get this special status in the history of the church? Why did our Roman Catholic siblings find it necessary to declare as dogma her immaculate conception and her deathless assumption into heaven, something not really warranted by scripture?
Well, I believe the reason for this over-glorification lies not just in bad biblical scholarship, but also in the sexist misogyny of society.
For centuries, men have kept women subservient: Women supposedly are members of a subspecies. Just look at the way our language is constructed. Too often we use the word “man” to talk about humans in general. Some might roll their eyes at these linguistic realities. But our language betrays us and reflects the power structures of our society.
The sometimes violent submission of women in the past was particularly eminent in the way men thought about female sexuality in general and women’s sexual and reproductive organs in particular. For men, it was all just deeply flawed, dirty, and even wicked. And this included the womb and the birth canal.
The church inherited this particular problematic thinking from her Greek pagan neighbours, whose philosophers had no kind words for women: Women were the seat of evil. Sexual desire was unclean, because, for most men, it meant intercourse with women. Some Greek philosophers even thus were able to idealize pedophilia with boys, because, after all, it did not involve women. (And I am not even going to go into the abusive and harmful nature of these “relationships” today!)
Into this reality of male dominance entered Mary.
God decided to be born of her, a woman. A woman, for crying out loud! Think this through: God decided to be revealed in Jesus, who came into the world through Mary’s birth canal. God decided to grow under a woman’s heart, experience the messiness of a human birth, be nursed from a woman’s breast, and be subjected to a woman’s care. God intimately touched women’s bits!
No wonder this was not just problematic for the time. This was radical. It was outrageous! Mary and her story really did not fit into a male-dominated and male-dictated religion. It blew apart everything that society stood for. “We can’t have this!”
Unless… unless, we clean it up. Unless, we put Mary on a pedestal. Unless, we proclaim her to be conceived immaculately, to be born without sin, too. Unless, we sever her from her sisters, from her female sexuality, by declaring her an ever-virgin.
The early church fathers really did not try to harmonize popular pagan goddess-worship with the Christian message when they turned Mary into something special. Quite the opposite! Because women, real women, could in the mind of male theologians not be connected intimately to the divine, the church effectively neutered Mary turning her into a pure maiden.
But this stands in opposition to God’s revelation in the book of Genesis, which boldly proclaims that we are all created in the image of God, male and female. Men and women reflect God’s image equally, which also means that God is both male and female.
And the de-sexing of Mary also stands in opposition to the incarnation, to God’s coming into human flesh. If we put Mary on a virgin pedestal, if we make her sinless and sexless, if we neglect or negate her humanity, her gender, and her sexuality, then we do not believe that God came among us in Jesus Christ to redeem us all in all that we are. All of Mary was chosen by God. God became one of us in Jesus, to walk our ways fully, not just partially.
Celibate chastity is indeed a calling from God for some. But it is not the ideal state for all. The church cannot choose to only embrace women’s sexuality if it is kept sexless. But rather the church must lift women to their rightful and equal place at the table and must learn how to assert female sexuality. All sexuality is affirmed by God in creation, and re-affirmed in the incarnation. Human sexuality, male or female, is something that is equally part of God’s good order. And God’s goodness also includes human birth, which is something wonderful, something awesome, something mysterious, and something so beautiful it defies words. Mary was chosen, because she was a woman, a real woman. She is one of us. She is just like us.
But then, what to do with the Gospel according to Luke, which does call Mary “favoured by God among women,1” something too many Protestants are rather eager to overlook? There is obviously biblical precedent to remember Mary in some special form. If we relegate Mary just to the margins or put her on a shelf altogether, we would not be true to her place in God’s reign. The reaction to misrepresentations and misunderstandings about Mary in Roman Catholicism should not make us go to the other extreme. That would put us on the same level with fundamentalist wing-nuts, whose blatant anti-Marianism and anti-Catholicism fall short of the deep beauty of the divine revelation!
However, when we fall into the arms of the living God2 like Mary did, something profound, something beyond our understanding will occur, something that might indeed turn us – by the grace of God – into a blessing for the world.
And this is why we can and maybe even should venerate Mary. And there are three aspects in particular to consider when we think of doing so.
First of all, let’s look at Mary’s most prominent title: “Mother of God.” For many, this is rather problematic. It sounds as if Mary indeed is superhuman, almost on a par with God.
Far from it! This title is Mary’s most important title, because it really isn’t about Mary. It is about Jesus.
During the first few centuries the church debated hotly Jesus’ identity. Finally, after many debates and discourses, after much prayer and Spirit-led discernment, the church proclaimed that Jesus is of the same substance as God the Father: Jesus is truly divine and truly human, “one and the same … Lord … recognized in two natures, without confusion, without change, without division, without separation.”3 And this is not just true for Jesus’ adult, public life. It is true for all his life from conception to death, and on to his resurrection and ascension.
Mary, therefore, conceived not just a human being, but Mary also conceived God. And to underscore this important, yet mysterious truth, the church gave Mary the honorific title “Theotokos,” which literally translates into “God-bearer” or in our usage: God’s mother. It is in this title that Jesus’ two natures are proclaimed.
Mary provided the human aspect of the incarnation. She was the guarantor for humanity’s participation in God’s self-revelation in Jesus Christ. She became the first realization for God’s new creation. And she is the symbol of something into which we are all invited: in Jesus Christ we can all become God-bearers, bearers of God in our hearts and souls.
For this alone Mary deserves our respect and our veneration.
And this is, by the way, one of the reasons why I do believe and hold on to the virgin birth of Jesus: Mary supplied all the humanity needed for the incarnation. Nothing else was warranted. Sometimes men are just not necessary!
The second reason why we should honour Mary, is her “yes” to God. It is a willingness to be totally available for God. This is no simplistic submission to a hierarchical God. But this is a willingness to be penetrated in all that we are and all that we have by the God of life, so that we can be agents of life in the world – and for ourselves.
Finally, I believe Mary deserves to be venerated because of her own words: The Magnificat, words from the Gospel according to Luke. Words we just heard.
These are words by one who said “yes” to the God of life. These are the words of one who carried God under her heart. And these are words that proclaim God’s upside-down kingdom, in which the small are big and the big are small, in which the living light of God pierces death in all forms, in which greed and oppression have no power whatsoever, but in which justice and peace reign for ever. Mary’s song reveals God’s vision for our world, a vision that is as radical as is God’s choosing of Mary and Mary’s response to God. And due to the radicalism, due to the total otherness of the Magnificat to our reality, these words offer hope beyond imagination, hope for all, but hope particularly for those on the margins.
So, yes, a certain dose of “Marian” spirituality is healthy for our souls, valuable for the life of the church, and beneficial for our mission to serve the world in Christ’s name. Let us therefore not just today venerate and learn from the Mother of God, who is “blessed among women.”4
[The Reverend Markus Duenzkofer delivered this sermon on August 16, 2009.]
Footnotes
1 Cf Luke 1:30, 42
2 Cf Hebrews 10.31
3 Council of Chalcedon, 451 AD, Act V
4 Luke 1.30
Posted by stpauls on under Bible Readings, Webmaster Blog |
Luke 1:46-55 ~ Gospel reading for August 16, 2009
Mary said,
“My soul magnifies the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour,
for he has looked with favour on the lowliness of his servant.
Surely, from now on all generations will call me blessed;
for the Mighty One has done great things for me,
and holy is his name.
His mercy is for those who fear him
from generation to generation.
He has shown strength with his arm;
he has scattered the proud in the thoughts of their hearts.
He has brought down the powerful from their thrones,
and lifted up the lowly;
he has filled the hungry with good things,
and sent the rich away empty.
He has helped his servant Israel,
in remembrance of his mercy,
according to the promise he made to our ancestors,
to Abraham and to his descendants forever.”
Posted by stpauls on August 9, 2009 under Sermons |
Some of you might remember that I have a fondness for the Eastern Orthodox Church. It is, among other things, a visual thing. Icons really draw me! Icons are windows into heaven and they reveal avenues into the depth of the Divine Mystery. Still, I could not be part of the Eastern Church, for many reasons. But I do believe there is a treasure of knowledge, of truth, and of prophetic insights in the Orthodox Church and I wish those who look to the East for spiritual fulfillment would stop over in Constantinople and consider what the mystical traditions of the Christian East have to offer before losing themselves in faraway places such as India or Tibet.
One theological truth strongly proclaimed by our Orthodox brothers and sisters is that God is beyond our understanding. God is a mystery too deep for us to explore, is bigger than any human words could describe. In fact, Orthodox Christians continue to follow the 2nd commandment: “You shall not make graven images.” The indescribable otherness of God can never be forced into human descriptions of any kind – even art – because these descriptions by their very nature put a limit on God, who is limitless.
So, why icons then?
For Orthodox Christians, the only reason we can paint icons is because God chose to be born in human form, chose to be part of creation, chose to take a mortal, human body in Jesus Christ. The Unlimited set Himself a human limit. The Inexperienceable became experienceable. The Indescribable became describable. The abstract became concrete. The numinous became known.
And by their very existence, icons celebrate the Incarnation: God’s coming into our flesh, God’s coming into creation, which, of course, is the central aspect of God’s self-revelation. God became one of us, became experienceable, describable, concrete, known.
There are two things to remember about icons, however.
One: Matter never equals or surpasses the supernatural. Creation never reaches the same level as the Creator. That’s why Orthodox Christians do not worship icons, but worship what is depicted on the icon, which, in the end, is always God’s salvific action in creation.
Two, even by the way icons are painted, icons still speak of the indescribability eternity of God.
Just look at the icon that was handed out to you in your bulletin today.
It is an icon of the Transfiguration of our Lord Jesus Christ, which is based on the Gospel story for today. But have a closer look at the halo surrounding Jesus. I know I have shared this with you before, but it deserves repeating: The Christian West usually paints the halo brightest at the centre. The closer we get to the person depicted, the shinier the halo becomes. This reflects the reality of creation: A source of light is brightest at its centre and fades the further away we get.
In the Christian East, however, the nimbus, which is the technical term for the “halo” around Jesus’ body, grows progressively darker as your eyes move inward. It gets darker the closer you get to Jesus. The nimbus in the Transfiguration-icon is reverse to the reality of light as we know it. The icon rather reveals that the light that emanates from Jesus Christ is not of this world. It is uncreated. It is the divine light reflecting the divine nature of Jesus, which is equally real and present in Jesus as is his human nature.
Now: the progressively darker nimbus, of course, does not mean that there is darkness (as we understand it) in Jesus Christ. This would be contrary to the Good News of God. There is a dark side to God, or I should better say, there is an awesome side to God. But God’s awesomeness is in opposition to the darkness of this world, which is deadly for body, mind, or soul.
But the “inverted” nimbus on the icon of the Transfiguration, symbolizes this: The closer we get to God, the more we realize how little we actually know about God. The deeper we travel into the Divine Mystery, the more we realize how incomprehensibly deep, how awesome this mystery really is. We can never fully understand or grasp it. We will never be able to explain God, with human words or with human art. All our theology in word or painting or music is a feeble attempt to make God known. Yet, God is beyond our understanding, and creation will never fully be able to describe the Creator.
The light radiating from the transfigured Christ is a light that turns our understanding of how things work on its head. Thus, it reveals our limits, exposes our inabilities, and challenges the way we do things. And any light we create will never match up to the light of the Transfiguration.
And thank God!
Thank God, indeed, that God’s light is so different from the lights we create.
Just think of the light that we unleashed over Hiroshima and Nagasaki some 64 years ago. This was not a light steeped in divine mystery, not to mention divine love. It was a light that burned brightly at its centre. Unlike God’s light, which lovingly reveals the awesomeness of the human beauty, the light of the atomic bombs was steeped with vengeance and hate. Unlike the light of the Transfiguration that seeks to fill creation with life, the light over Hiroshima and Nagasaki brought forth death, destruction, pain, and terror.
Thank God, indeed, that God’s light is so different from the lights we create.
Just think of Harry Patch, the last British survivor of World War I, who died this past week. In his 111 years of life, Mr. Patch often spoke out passionately against the horror of war. He knew that there was no glory in the trenches as bombs exploded and as light flashed through the night ripping apart limbs and bodies, and scarring souls and minds. The shell that wounded Mr Patch killed three of his comrades, three of his friends, three sons of mothers, three sons of fathers, three beloved children of God. They were killed by a light unleashed by us, by humanity’s greed and sin.
I do not know anything about Harry Patch’s religious beliefs, but I do believe that in addition to experiencing the cold light of human terror, Mr. Patch also had been touched by the uncreated light radiating forth from the transfigured Christ. I believe this to be true, because Harry Patch gave clear instructions about his funeral. There were to be no guns, not even ceremonial ones. And the honour guard consisted not only of British, but also of French, and Belgians, and even of Germans, the old war enemy. God’s transfiguring light transformed Harry Patch from a warrior to a reconciler. And if you want to listen to a heart-warming tribute to this prophet of peace go to YouTube on the internet and listen to Radiohead’s “Harry Patch (In Memory Of).”
Thank God, indeed, that God’s light is so different from the lights we create.
Yes, God’s light is different from our light. And not just different. Very often, God’s light diametrically opposes our lights. Yet, God’s light doesn’t try to be simply contrarian. But God’s light is different, because, unlike the lights of this world, God’s light seeks to transform us into the beauty that God intends for each and every one us, a beauty that is already in us, but a beauty too often hidden in this fallen world. God’s light yearns for us to be transfigured into the likeness of Christ.
But how? How can we be transfigured and transformed?
The account of the Transfiguration of our Lord is recorded in all three synoptic Gospels, i.e. Mark, Matthew, and Luke. Luke’s version, however, which we heard today, has a particular twist. Luke reports that Jesus went up the mountain to pray. For Luke, prayer, however, is the prerequisite for any revelation. In order to be transformed, one must pray.
But prayer in this context is not the recitation of a laundry list of what I want. Prayer is foremost an act of listening. It is the act of listening to God, whose still small voice sings love-songs into our hearts, love-songs that try to transform us. Prayer is a two-way communication in which I let the Spirit take me into the Divine Mystery, into the divine love that flows abundantly from God’s heart, and that seeks to embrace each and every one of us in ways too deep for words.
One of the techniques to practice this kind of listening-prayer, this kind of meditative contemplation is the so-called “Jesus Prayer.” And, yes, it comes to us from the Christian East. The “Jesus Prayer” is a Christian mantra that is said over and over and over again. It is a very short prayer and goes like this:
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me.
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me.
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me.
You may even try to set your breathing to it: Breathe in the goodness of God:
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God,
breathe out all worries and concerns:
have mercy on me.
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me.
By reciting this prayer 10, 20, 50 times in a row, I can let go of my own desires and my own angst to find the right words; I can let go of my worries to pray just right; I can let go of my concerns that I am not worthy enough to be listened to by God. Instead, I can let the prayer develop its own dynamic, or I should say, I can let God use this prayer to open me for the presence of God’s Spirit, who is praying not just before the throne of God “with sighs too deep for words”[1], but who is also praying deep within me, filling me with divine love and penetrating me with the uncreated light.
Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me.
It is in prayer that we are transformed into the likeness of Christ. It is in prayer that the uncreated light can penetrate our being and pierce all that harms us in body, mind, and soul. It is in prayer that God’s uncreated light transfigures us to be beacons of the divine light and harbingers of peace.
[1] Romans 8.26
[The Reverend Markus Duenzkofer delivered this sermon on August 9, 2009.]
Posted by stpauls on under Bible Readings, Webmaster Blog |
Luke 9:28-36 ~ Gospel reading for August 9, 2009
Now about eight days after these sayings Jesus took with him Peter and John and James, and went up on the mountain to pray. And while he was praying, the appearance of his face changed, and his clothes became dazzling white. Suddenly they saw two men, Moses and Elijah, talking to him. They appeared in glory and were speaking of his departure, which he was about to accomplish at Jerusalem. Now Peter and his companions were weighed down with sleep; but since they had stayed awake, they saw his glory and the two men who stood with him. Just as they were leaving him, Peter said to Jesus, ‘Master, it is good for us to be here; let us make three dwellings, one for you, one for Moses, and one for Elijah’—not knowing what he said. While he was saying this, a cloud came and overshadowed them; and they were terrified as they entered the cloud. Then from the cloud came a voice that said, ‘This is my Son, my Chosen; listen to him!’ When the voice had spoken, Jesus was found alone. And they kept silent and in those days told no one any of the things they had seen.
Posted by stpauls on August 2, 2009 under Sermons |
Do you remember the Great Baptismal Font Debate here at St. Paul’s? At the end of the renovation in 2002, some seven years ago, when it was time to move back the “church furniture” that had been displaced, there was a bit of a debate about where the baptismal font should go. It couldn’t go back to its original place, because a door had appeared just in that very spot. So, a new home had to be found.
I was not around at St. Paul’s when this debate happened. But I would have put it somewhere else.
First of all, there is an aesthetical issue. Our font is gorgeous. And if you have some time at the end I will show you its stunning interior. In its current position, however, nobody can admire the sheer beauty of our font.
Secondly, there is a theological problem. In the font, or, more precisely, through the waters of Baptism we enter the Christian community. In the font, we die with Christ Jesus and are raised to new life in him again. There, we are marked as Christ’s own forever and ordained into the royal priesthood of Christ. There, we are granted access to life eternal. There, all the forces that want us to rebel against God are drowned. There, we are gifted with God’s Holy Spirit. In the baptismal font, we find our true self. Through the baptismal covenant, we find the rule for the life as a Christian. The font is the foremost and central place of our identity as the people of Christ. Yet, we have pushed the font from the centre to the side. We have relegated it to a corner of our church…
Now, I really don’t want to open the debate about the placement of the font… Well, at least, not today. But now you know why I place a big ole’ salad bowl filled with water right in the centre of the church at baptisms and when we remember baptisms. This placement of the bowl re-emphasizes the importance of baptism in the life of the church.
Furthermore, when I place the baptismal font right there, it is … kind of in the way. Have you noticed this? It blocks the view. It looks a little shabby and I know some of you roll your eyes when you walk in. “Another one of those Sundays when Markus splashes around with water…” (Mind you, in this weather it might be kind of fun to do so.) But, yeah, the font gets in the way.
Which of course, is exactly the point. The font gets in the way. In fact, Baptism gets in the way. Baptism gets in the way, because it is messy and disorderly and it doesn’t allow us to just live a comfortable life, ignorant of the pain and darkness around and inside us. This “font” doesn’t quite fit here into this space, because Baptism just doesn’t fit into our ordered, but selfish lives either.
Can’t we just come here for some personal quiet time? Do we really have to be dragged into a messy community to do ministry? Can we have a nice Sunday?
Rewind a couple of thousand of years to Ephesus, a port city in Asia Minor. Ephesus was an important city, home of one of the seven wonders of the ancient world: The Temple of Diana, or Artimes, the goddess of fertility. The Ephesians profited hugely from the trade and the pilgrims associated with the temple. This was serious religion-stuff. Or at least, the Ephesians took seriously the business associated with the temple cult. When Paul’s preaching and the baptism of converts infringed on the Ephesians’ economy, there was a riot forcing Paul out of the city. Baptism and market economy really don’t mix well. Baptism gets in the way. Baptism disturbs not just the water, it disturbs our way of life, and it disturbs us deep within.
The Christian community in Ephesus, though, had to live in this society, which was not just dominated by the business of religion, but also ruled by hierarchies and a clear definition of who was an insider and who was on the margins. No wonder, then, that Paul admonishes the Christian community to be different: Remember, he teaches, that there is but one baptism. There are not baptisms of Lydia, Luke, and Lucius; of Joe, Jane, and Jennifer. But there is one baptism into which all are baptised. It is a baptism that creates unity and equality, unity with God and equality among the members of the church. All are created by God, and all are loved by God. All are called to follow God’s Way, and each baptismal celebration is just a partaking of the one Baptism instituted by Christ. No baptism is different or greater than the other.
Which reminds me of an odd thing: Have you ever noticed that at the Baptism of a very important person, the presider very often ends up being a bishop or an archbishop? I find this curious and I wish the church would every so often send a “mere” deacon to baptize members of our Royal family, or the offspring of a politician, a sports personality, or a rock star. Baptism is baptism is baptism, and just because water is poured on occasion by episcopal hands doesn’t make it take better… In the waters of Baptism, we share a unity regardless of the presider. But it is a unity centred in the one who is the real baptizer, i.e. Jesus Christ himself, who knows no class or status. In the eyes of God we are all created in the same divine image and are all the same beloved children regardless of our gender, race, sexual orientation, age, or ethnicity, regardless of whether one is a prostitute or Her Majesty The Queen.
This does not, however, eradicate our differences. The diversity of who we are as human beings does not get washed away by baptism. Which brings me to my next point, or better Paul’s point in the letter to the Ephesians. Unity is NOT uniformity.
Paul argues today that in the one Baptism, we are gifted with ministry skills and talents. All of us. Each and every one of us. As much as this is a wonderful sign of God’s abundance, it is also an obligation. There is work to do. Slacking off is just not an option in the Reign of Christ. If we do not engage in the mission and ministry of the church, our faith is dead and we fall short of the glory of God. Yet again, the font gets in the way. It gets in the way of a quaint and restful life. Rest we will have only when God is all in all.
Not everybody is called to do the same thing, though. We are all different people with different sets of skills and talents. Our unity is founded in the one Baptism. But the one Baptism embraces quite diverse people, with different, but equally important skills and talents. Unity in Christ does not require uniformity in skills. And unity in Christ does not require uniformity in other things either.
Today, half a million people are descending upon the West End for the annual Pride Parade. It is an event that disturbs our peace both literally and figuratively. The many revellers on our streets this day upset the quaintness of our church-living. Pride gets in our way! It gets in the way, because the church today is confronted by and needs to repent of the evil we have done, the evil that enslaves us and the evil done on our behalf to queer folk around the world. Furthermore, the Pride Parade should be a reminder to the church that God’s creation is colourful and diverse and good. Yes, God seeks to be united with us and seeks for us to be united with one another, but God does not require uniformity. Our triune God does not call us to enter into union with God in the same, uniform way.
Sure, there are things that grieve the heart of God – even in a Pride Parade. Not all that goes on should go on. But living fully and faithfully into what and who God created us to be is part of claiming what was began in us at Baptism. Demanding uniformity, however, is suffocating the diversity intended by God.
So, yes, yet again I will asperge you with water, later in this service. Not just because I am having fun with it, which I do have. But I will throw holy water at you also to remind you that through the one Baptism we are indeed united with the one God and with one another as equal, yet, diverse partners in ministry and mission to do the work God has given us to do.
[The Reverend Markus Duenzkofer delivered this sermon on August 2, 2009.]
