Posted by ParishAdmin on December 30, 2011 under Contributors, Webmaster Blog | 
The Labyrinth at St. Paul’s 2011 New Years Eve and New Year’s Day Programming
Please read here for NYE and New Year’s Day schedule of events.
For well over a decade, the end of the calendar year has been an important time in the Labyrinth, and the cusp between 2011 and 2012 is no different. Please join us as a prelude to your celebrations elsewhere, as a refuge from the craziness of the night, or as a celebration of light amid the darkness of midwinter. We are pleased to be able to offer this programming and hope you will consider the Labyrinth at St. Paul’s as a significant part of your New Year’s Eve (NYE) activities. Our scheduled programming is as follows:
5 p.m. to 6 p.m. in the Labyrinth – St. Pauls NYE Service – All are welcome! with Rev. Markus Dünzkofer
6 p.m. to 8 p.m. in the Labyrinth – Menowah (cedar flutes and voice) with walking
7 p.m. to 7:45 p.m. in the Church Sanctuary - ”Zal and Rudabeh” A Persian Love Story with Kira Van Deusen
8 p.m. to 10 p.m. in the Labyrinth – Walking to cello and voice from Kira Van Deusen
9:30 p.m. to 12:15 a.m. in the Church Sanctuary – Refreshments and friendly conversation ($2/wine)
10 p.m. to 11 p.m. in the Labyrinth – Circle dancing led by Corinne Chepil
11 p.m. to 12:15 a.m. in the Labyrinth – Walking to acoustic guitar from Ross Bliss
The Labyrinth will also be open New Year’s Day. New Year’s Day programming:
10 a.m. to noon - Walking the Labyrinth in silence
Noon to 2 p.m. – Walking the Labyrinth to live music from noon to 2 pm
10 a.m. to 2 p.m. – Soup and fellowship in the downstairs hall
All are welcome – admission is free!
Posted by stpauls on December 24, 2011 under Sermons |
Once upon a time…
No, this is not about the TV-shows of the same name. Rather, I want to share a fairly-tale today. But before I start, I need to make a disclaimer: I want to apologize for the sexist undertones in the fairy tale. But this is how the story has been handed down to us:
Once upon a time, there was a fisher. He was a good, honest, and simple man, who lived with his wife in a plain hut, more like a shack, and who made his livelihood by angling with a simple angling rod in the waters of the sea.
One day, as he was sitting on the water’s edge, the fisher could feel something big and heavy on the end of his fishing hook: He had caught a huge flounder.
Yet, after he had pulled the flounder ashore, it said: “Fisher, I am not really a flounder, I am an accursed prince. What good is it to you to kill me? Let me go!” The fisher replied: “I would never kill a flounder that speaks.” And so he released the flounder.
The fisher went home to his wife, who greeted him: “Husband! Have you not caught anything?” The fisher removed his jacket and said, “No. I did catch a flounder, but it said it was an accursed prince, so I released it.”
“And you didn’t ask for a wish to be granted?” exclaimed the wife. The fisher removed his boots and looked at her: “No.” he said. “What would I wish for?”
“What? Go right back and ask the flounder to grant you a wish. Ask for a little house. Or even better: Ask for a castle. This hut is too small.”
With a heavy heart, the fisher put back on his boots and jacket and walked to the sea. There he called out:
“Flounder, flounder in the sea,
Come back here and speak to me.
My wife at home called Ilsebill,
Does not wish for what I will.”
As soon as he had finished these words, the flounder broke the surface of the water and asked: “What does she want?” The fisher sighed: “She wants a bigger house, a castle.” The flounder responded. “She has received as she wished.”
At home, the fisher was greeted by his wife in front of a very beautiful castle. And they lived in piece – for about a week. Then his wife started up again: “Husband. Our castle is in such beautiful place. We should be king over this land! Go and ask for it.”
And the fisher walked to the sea shaking his head.
“Flounder, flounder in the sea,
Come back here and speak to me.
My wife at home called Ilsebill,
Does not wish for what I will.”
The flounder responded, “She has received as she wished.”
And the fisher went back home. His wife was sitting on golden throne wearing a huge golden crown. And the fisher said: “You look great. I hope you are satisfied.”
The wife did not respond to this simple fisher right away. But the next morning, she summoned him: “Fisher,” she ordered “The flounder has made me King. So, there is nothing holding me back now. So go to the flounder and tell him to make me Pope.”
“No!” the fisher exclaimed. “There can only be one pope in all of Christendom. You cannot ask for this!!”
But the wife looked sternly at the fisher and called the guards. So the fisher stumbled back to the seashore. And you know what happened next!
“Flounder, flounder in the sea,
Come back here and speak to me.
My wife at home called Ilsebill,
Does not wish for what I will.”
The flounder responded, “She has received as she wished.”
Now you probably wonder what’s next… and you probably equally wonder what on earth this has to do with Christmas!
Well, we all know that this fair-tale of the fisher and his wife is a myth. But myths are not just light entertainment. They serve a purpose in our society and culture: Not unlike prophets, they challenge things that are not right. They put a spotlight on things we try to keep in the dark.
And of course this story is a scathing condemnation of human greed, which wants more and more. And, yes, this speaks to our society’s obsession in this Christmas time to make it all about presents, presents that are bigger and better and more expensive – but presents that might oversee the heart and soul of the season.
Of course, I know without our buying frenzy in the days leading up to Christmas, our economy would be in deep doo-doo. So there is an economic benefit to all of this. And of course, I enjoy gifts, both giving them and receiving them. There is something deeply gratifying in seeing the wonder and awe in a child’s, a friend’s, or in a lover’s eye, when presents are opened. And hey, I would be lying if I’d say I don’t get satisfaction out of receiving presents myself.
But, unfortunately, the consumerism also leaves behind too many people. Too many cannot afford keeping up with the demands of the holidays. And too often there is so much pressure to get things right that people break. We all know there is no picture-perfect Christmas. Unfortunately though, feeling blue, overwhelmed, and under-appreciated is an all too common experience in these days.
Furthermore, not just since the Occupy movement has become a prophetic thorn in our consumerist society, we realise that our prosperity is built on the backs of those who have not much or even nothing – and not just in the Third World. The fairly-tale of the fisher and his wife is also a derisive criticism of how we easily forget those round us: those exploited and those, who have been pushed to the side.
This very parish is home to many who have been overlooked or marginalised due to their socio-economic realities, their ethnicity, their gender identity or their sexual orientation, their infirmities, their housing status, or because they just do not fit in anywhere else. We are an island of misfit toys: beautiful human beings, but misfits in a world where too many try to be like the fisher’s wife; try to climb the social ladder, try to progress eternally, all the while leaving behind where they have come from, and forgetting about the awesome and amazing beauty that the Creator gifted to them.
This upwardly-mobile ideal is also reflected in the spiritual journey of many. People seek mystical fulfillment in a place up, a place removed from our reality, in the highest heaven:
This can either result in thinking of ourselves as too puny to matter to a deity confined to a high-heaven.
Or this can lead to an over-glorification of others – and not just of cultural icons, who – like any idol – will disappoint and disillusion. When I look at the pictures coming from North Korea these days, I am dismayed and disgusted at how Kim-Il Jung was able to blind, lead astray, and consequently abuse and exploit a people. Often, we, and not just North Koreans, really do look for fulfillment all in the wrong places.
In the tale of the fisher and his wife, however, the sacred is found in an unexpected place – and thus it is a myth that very much challenges the way we run the show!
Tonight, just a few minutes ago, we heard another myth
And this is not to say that I believe the birth of Jesus to be a mere fairy-tale. Far from it! Far from it indeed! For our salvation, God did become one of us in the baby Jesus, born of our sister Mary.
But this does not mean that the story recorded in Luke cannot have mythical character. In fact, it very much does. And its mythical identity challenges our perception of God and our understanding of how to go about in this world.
The mystery of tonight, the mystery of Christmas, however, reveals that God comes our way and does “not abhor the virgin’s womb,” as one carol puts it. This is not yet another misogynist line sung by a church too often blemished by its involvement in injustice and heterosexism. Instead, the carol proclaims: God is not divorced from who or what we are, but embraces us in our imperfection and in our messiness. God smiles at us with the gentle and loving smile of a baby.
And when we are willing to go to that stable with ox and donkey, when we are willing to do like the shepherds and magi, when we are willing to return the smile of the babe and pick him up to hold him close in our arms and deep in our hearts, then the divine light revealed uniquely in Jesus will pierce our darkness and any darkness of the world. And we will discover life, life eternal and life abundant.
At this point I have to tell you that I didn’t finish the fairy-tale of the fisher and his wife.
After the wife had become pope she wished for one more thing. She wished to be God. But when the fisher returned home from the flounder at that point, he found her back in the shag, where we had first encountered them.
This, of course, is the final censure of human greed.
But I think there is more. I think the wife did get what she wished for – in a way. And this is why this fairly-tale is also a Christmas story:
God is not at home in some golden, magnificent building removed from our common reality. Neither does God reside in some celestial palace far away. But God is at home everywhere: even the most simple, must run down, or most messy shag – literally, and also figuratively.
As I said, St. Paul’s is an island of misfit toys.
Yet, we wear this designation proudly. We wear it proudly, because in our welcome of all, whoever they are and however often or however few they attend the church; in our ministries to and with the homeless, the marginalised, and the addicted; in our outreach to spiritual searchers, sojourners, and questioners; in our prophetic condemnation of injustice; in our healing of bodies, minds, and souls; and in our awesome, yet imperfect liturgies, sermons, and worship – in all of these we are very much a home to the one loving and compassionate God, who became one of us in Jesus and who wishes for all of us to experience peace, justice, and restoration to the amazing beauty that God intends for us.
And this is what Christmas is all about.
Merry Christmas!
[The Reverend Markus Dünzkofer delivered this sermon on December 24, 2011.]
Posted by ParishAdmin on December 23, 2011 under Contributors, Webmaster Blog |
Christmas Events – Read here for service times .
All are welcome as St. Paul’s celebrates Christmas!!
24 December, Christmas Eve
- 5pm, Christmas Pageant & Eucharist,
- 10:30pm, pre-service Christmas music,
- 11pm, Midnight Mass
25 December, Christmas Day
- 8am,
- 9:15am,
- 11am Eucharist
Posted by stpauls on December 18, 2011 under Choir, Webmaster Blog |
St. Paul’s Anglican Church Lessons and Carols service is on tonight at 7 p.m.
The choir has been practising for weeks and has some beautiful music prepared, including a new Christmas piece by choir member Jill Knight, called The Kings’ Tale. This recording of it was sung by the Haberdashers’ Aske’s School for Girls Choir at St. Martin-in-the-Fields at Trafalgar Square in London just this week.
Hear this piece sung tonight by our very own St. Paul’s Church Choir along with a full range of your Christmas favourites.
Lessons and Carols Poster
Posted by stpauls on under Sermons |
Over the last couple of Sundays, we have encountered one of the great prophets of God and one of the great saints of Advent: John, Jesus’ cousin.
First we met him as John the Baptist, as the one who offered baptism to wash away any stain or blemish. John the Baptist was the voice calling us from a world cluttered by our wastelands into the emptiness of the desert, where the still small voice of God beckons us – and where we are stripped naked. The encounter with John the Baptist is forceful: The walls behind which we hide are torn down. The layers that cover our true self are stripped away. And we stand bare before God. But unlike the forces of this world, which seek to abuse our vulnerability, the waters of John’s Baptism do not seek to drown us in our nakedness, but they will swallow up forever any ballast that has been lying heavily on our shoulder.
Then, last Sunday, we met John again. As a Witness, John stands in the midst of the darkness to sing of the Light that overcomes the nights of our hearts, and minds, and souls. And again, there is forcefulness and power: The Light pierces the darkness not with some gentle glow amidst the romanticism of a birth in a stable. There are no soft-spoken shepherds and no choir of angelic voices. There are no pleasant gifts from sages of the orient. But there is a struggle for might and power of cosmic proportion. And the forces that at times seem to suffocate us with injustice, war, and oppression, with sin, guilt, and shame, and with illness, suffering, and death, all these forces are overthrown by the Light of God, which comes into the world.
Yes, this is John. John the Baptiser and John the Witness. And John does not hold back, because he knows of the rawness of physical, emotional, and spiritual violence, and because John understands that the beauty God intends for us too often is buried by our selfish schemes and entombed by our fears. John utters prophetic words of truth which are brutal and crude and raw … and which would sour the milk at any Anglican tea party! Frankly, most of us would not be amused, right?
Just as well we have moved on and have left behind this John-character and encounter today that other great saint of Advent: Mary. Mary, that wonderful, beautiful, gentle young child. Yes, Mary: mild, meek-mannered mother of our Lord Jesus Christ. Hail to thee, most gracious, most lovely, most gentle, most loving, most adorable, most wonderful Mary!
And if you have fallen into a sugar-coma because of the rising saccharine level, I don’t blame you!
So, to keep you awake, let me tell you a joke. Well, it’s a religious joke, so it’s not gonna be that funny…
It’s Christmas. That very first Christmas. And of course, despite its anachronism, all the religious orders of the Roman Catholic Church send delegates to Bethlehem.
The first to arrive are the Jesuits, known for their learnedness and their emphasis on good education. They fall down before the manger in adoration, reciting from memory how this is the fulfillment of ancient prophecies. And when they get up, they hand Joseph an application form for Jesus to attend a Jesuit high school, a Jesuit college, and a Jesuit university.
Next in line are the Franciscans. Remember these are the ones following St. Francis who had embraced a leper, had distributed the wealth of his father among the poor, and who had preached to the animals. As soon as they get into the stable in Bethlehem, one is off to the side embracing the ox and ass, and feeding the sheep, another one joins the shepherds, in solidarity with their poverty, and a third one didn’t even make it into the stable as she tends to the sick of Bethlehem.
The third group to arrive are the Benedictines, whose CDs with Gregorian chants have sold a millionfold! They enter the stable in deep prayer. Yet, as they spot the angelic choir, half of them join right away, while the other half take notes about ideas for their next CD-production.
The final group to arrive are the Marianists. The Marianists have developed a deep Marian piety. Even their name suggests that Mary is rather important to them. They enter and immediately fling themselves at the feet of Mary. After singing the Regina Coeli, an ancient Marian Hymn, their leader gets up and says, “Hail Mary full of grace!” and then he points to Jesus and utters: “But was that really necessary!”
I want you to keep this last encounter in mind as I continue this sermon, but for the sake of accuracy I have to finish my joke.
So, three days after all this has happened, Rudolf Bultman appears to offer his praises. He is late, because due to a better exegesis of the biblical texts, he had gone to Nazareth first.
And if you don’t get that last part, ask one of our resident librarians to look it up for you. There are after all six current or former employees of the Vancouver Public Library among us!
Of course, the punchline of the joke is this: All of us get sidetracked by too many things too often. Even religious people forget to focus on the little child in the manger!
But back to the Marianists. Or I should say, back to Mary.
Unfortunately, the caricature of the encounter with the Marianists is exactly what has happened to Mary in the life of the church. And not just among Marianists. Over the last two millennia, the church has taken Mary away from her human family and has placed her on a pedestal. Church dogmas, especially those espoused by the Bishop of Rome, have turned her into a passive, adorable young girl who is removed from our experience, removed from our shared humanity.
If this would have resulted in exploring the female side of God, from which we too often shy away, then more power to it! After all, we forget too easily that God is both our true father and our true mother, who makes creation burst forth from Her womb and who still nurses us at Her breast.
But the power elites in the church often could not and cannot deal with God’s female aspect, and neither could they and can they deal with Mary’s femininity. Yes, there is a misogynist strand in our tradition, which has led to a de-sexing of Mary, something I have preached about before. In a world that understands women to be second class and that looks at female sexuality as the source of evil, the Eternal Word could under no circumstances be “polluted” by touching women’s cuties…
Unfortunately, de-sexing Mary turns her into some powerless, helpless, submissive little thing, without edge and without any power.
But, as I look at today’s reading from Luke, I think we need to rethink our image of the Mother of God. I think we have to put her into the same kind of category as John the Baptist and Witness. In Mary, God takes habitation not because she is a mild and meek-mannered mother (a dreadful alliteration, by the way), but God takes habitation in a woman who is full of femininity, full of womanhood, full of prophetic fervour and insight. Mary is, as the angel reveals, full of grace. And the grace of God is not mild-mannered or without power and might.
Rather, God in and through Mary reveals something radically new, something that turns our mild, meek, and mannered ways upside-down, something that challenges us not only in the misogynist underpinnings of our society and church. But through Mary, God completely turns the way we try to run the world upside-down. Through Mary, God enters our world not by way of some romantic and idyllic still-life in a stable on Christmas morn. But it is a radical different revelation: God takes habitation in Mary’s womb. God links Her very own self to who we are. And thus oppression and injustice, pain and injury, evil and death no longer have ultimate power over us. But the God of life and love does. And trust me, it takes more than a mild, meek, and mannered child to be part of this. It takes a woman, a powerful woman, a strong woman! And yes, it is exactly through this powerful, strong woman called Mary that God’s will is revealed.
Furthermore, through Mary, God comes our way to embrace us, to dwell not just under Mary’s heart, but also under my heart and under your heart too. Mary’s “yes” is not a single, disconnected act by one person. But as God takes a home in Mary, we are invited to imitate her, to say “yes” to God so that God’s love, which is already prodding and nudging us, can also penetrate every fibre of our being. Mary shows us that God’s love comes our way without judgement and without condition. God’s love reaches out to us to dwell in us, to be born in us, and to smile at us, whoever we are and wherever we find ourselves on the journey.
Therefore: Hail Mary, full of grace. Indeed! The Lord is with you. Indeed! Blessed are you among women. Indeed! And blessed is the fruit of your womb: Jesus, who dwelt under your heart so that we all can come into the saving and compassionate embrace of our loving God. Indeed!
[The Reverend Markus Dünzkofer delivered this sermon on December 18, 2011.]
Posted by stpauls on under Bible Readings, Webmaster Blog |
Luke 1: 26-38
Now in the sixth month the angel Gabriel was sent by God to a town in Galilee called Nazareth, to a virgin engaged to a man whose name was Joseph, of the house of David. The virgin’s name was Mary. And he came to her and said, “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.” But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. The angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. He will be great, and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.”
Mary said to the angel, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” The angel said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God. And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son; and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. For nothing will be impossible with God.” Then Mary said, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” Then the angel departed from her.
Posted by ParishAdmin on December 16, 2011 under Contributors, Webmaster Blog |
Christmas Events – Read here for service times as we enter into the last week before Christmas.
All are welcome as St. Paul’s celebrates the spirit of Christmas!!
18 December, Advent IV
- 7pm, Pre-Christmas Service of Lessons and Carols
24 December, Christmas Eve
- 5pm, Christmas Pageant & Eucharist,
- 10:30pm, pre-service Christmas music,
- 11pm, Midnight Mass
25 December, Christmas Day
- 8am,
- 9:15am,
- 11am Eucharist
Posted by stpauls on December 11, 2011 under Sermons |
One of the most fun things I have been able to do in my life as a priest was serving as chaplain at Camp Chicago for a few summers in the early 2000s. Camp Chicago is a summer camp for youth run by the Episcopal Diocese of Chicago in a rather rural part of the diocese. The youth come from all over Northern Illinois, but there is always a group from the tougher neighbourhoods of Chicago. For many of these inner-city kids, it is the first time outside their neighbourhood. In fact, for many it is even the first time outside the city. And they have no idea what to expect in the countryside.
When visitors come, they sometimes wonder why there isn’t a tighter security system. Don’t the kids run away more easily without it? Well, of course, I could say nobody would want to run away from a church camp… And yes, the programming during the day does keep the kids busy – and supervised. But, there is something else.
Kids did manage to run away at night. But the staff never got worried. Because these kids didn’t stay out long. As kids, who grew up with lights all around them, they freaked out at the darkness that enveloped them as soon as they left camp. They were not used to how pitch black it gets in the forest at night. And very quickly these tough guys would come trotting back, scared to their bones, overwhelmed by the darkness, in desperate need for light.
Last week, we met John – John the baptiser, John, whom the Gospel according to Mark describes in not so inviting ways. Wearing camel hair and eating locusts and honey, John was probably not a pleasant sight – or indeed a pleasant smell. Yet, John managed to break through the barriers we humans erect. He smashed our white picket fences to reveal that all is not well and that the stink in our own lives cannot be hidden forever. And John invited us to step away from it all: from the busyness of life, from unhealthy relationships, from the treadmills of society, from oppression and injustice, from our foolish attempts to be the masters and mistresses of our own lives, from those things that harm us in body, mind, and soul. Instead, John invited us into the desert. And in the midst of the desert, John baptised. In the midst of the desert, the waters of the Jordan washed away any dirt, any stink, any blemish. In the midst of the desert, last week, God’s still small voice was heard.
A week later, however, darkness has fallen over the desert.
And it is a darkness that is heavy, that is burdensome, and that in its pitch-blackness threatens to overcome us. It is a darkness that is familiar, that has been with us for a long time, and that no electric light, no bright TV screen, no high-powered neon or halogen light can overcome. It is a darkness that lives in small corners of our hearts, corners we seek to ignore and avoid. From these corners this darkness frightens and scares us. It is a darkness that is ever so present and that sits in all of our hearts. It is a darkness that follows us – even into the desert.
Call the darkness what you may. But as the days get shorter and the sun is a rare commodity, darkness is very much on our minds and on our hearts. And sometimes we need outside voices to speak truth about this darkness, a darkness that is not just the physical darkness of the winter season in the Northern hemisphere.
As you can see all around us, the Vancouver Men’s Chorus has “invaded” our sacred space once again. But it is not so much a hostile invasion, as it is a prophetic intrusion. The VMC reminds us that people are still persecuted for who and what God made them to be. And there is more: The VMC’s songs often speak to a broader reality, point out things that are true in many lives, not just of queer people. Yes, the VMC truly has a prophetic presence among us!
One of the VMC’s songs, recorded on the CD “Making Spirits Bright Again” is called “Christmas is Calling.” Here are words from the refrain: “Christmas is sometimes lonely. Christmas is sometimes cold in despair. Christmas is sometimes heavy. Christmas is sometimes longing. Christmas is sometimes no one seems to care.”
This is a reality many of us know of and know about. Especially here in the West End Christmas can be lonely, can be cold in despair, and can be heavy. Sometimes nobody seems to care. While depression is a real illness that stalks not just in the long nights of winter, Christmas can and does trigger memories of frustrations and despair, of anger and hurt, of unfulfilled expectations and unsatisfied hopes. For those who have lost a loved one, Christmas can create havoc as the weight of grief becomes unbearable during this time. And of course, those who are burdened by an acute or chronic illness find these days of prescribed happiness particularly difficult. Yes, there is a darkness that holds us captive in these days.
And there is also spiritual darkness.
Far too often, we try to live life disconnected from the Source of all being. St. Augustine of Hippo, who died in AD 430, supposedly once said: “Love God, and do what you will.” This was not meant as a license to do whatever it is we wish to do. But it is a deep and profound understanding that when we return God’s loving embrace, good will come of it: We will do what is life-giving for ourselves and for our neighbour, whoever they are. When we are in a loving relationship with God, we will walk humbly with God, we will love mercy, and we will do justice.[1]
Unfortunately, in our ignorance, we too often forget about the first part of Augustine’s utterance. We do not love God and yet we still do what we will. In fact we do not love and we do what we will. This unfortunately is a recipe for disaster: It brings about injustice and violence in society and around the world. It creates pain and hurt in our relationships with others and with the Creator. It inflicts deep and sometimes lethal wounds on our own selves and on our souls. This is a darkness looming in the shadow of our hearts. And it is a darkness none of us can overcome and none of us can conquer.
In a way, we are not unlike those inner-city kids who ran away from the safety of Camp Chicago in the middle of the night only to find themselves scared to their bones, overwhelmed by the darkness, and in desperate need for light.
In the midst of our darkness, we today encounter John. Again. Yet, today we encounter a John, who is quite different from the John we met last week. He is not so much the baptizer and he no longer denounce our foolish ways. But in the midst of the darkness, John witnesses to the Light, God’s Light that comes into our world to pierce the night. John himself is not this light. It is not about John. But John points to the Light, the Light that is growing under Mary’s heart and that is born as a babe for us and for the healing of the nations.
And as members of the church, we are to follow in the footsteps of John the Witness. We are not called to condemn or judge or exclude. We are also not called to make it about us, about the institution, or even about the survival of this community. But just like John the Witness, we are called to be witnesses to the Light that pierces all darkness. It is about Jesus the Christ, whose love is stronger than the darkness of our hearts, whose compassion is mightier than the night that seems to suffocate us, and whose care leads us back from the pitch-darkness into the safety of God’s embrace.
This is why we do what we do – even though it might seem foolish. Every single ministry of this parish without exception and every one of us involved in ministry here witnesses to the Light that pierces all darkness. And this is why we will anoint for healing today: it is a way for us to bring the Light of God to all who are hurting physically, spiritually, emotionally, or mentally. And the Light will pierce the darkness – today and for ever more.
[1] Cf. Micah 6:8
Posted by stpauls on under Bible Readings, Webmaster Blog |
John 1: 6-8, 19-28 ~ Gospel Reading for the Third Sunday in Advent
There was a man sent from God, whose name was John. He came as a witness to testify to the light, so that all might believe through him. He himself was not the light, but he came to testify to the light. This is the testimony given by John when the Jews sent priests and Levites from Jerusalem to ask him, “Who are you?” He confessed and did not deny it, but confessed, “I am not the Messiah.” And they asked him, “What then? Are you Elijah?” He said, “I am not.” “Are you the prophet?” He answered, “No.” Then they said to him, “Who are you? Let us have an answer for those who sent us. What do you say about yourself?” He said, “I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, ‘Make straight the way of the Lord,’” as the prophet Isaiah said.
Now they had been sent from the Pharisees. They asked him, “Why then are you baptizing if you are neither the Messiah, nor Elijah, nor the prophet?”
John answered them, “I baptize with water. Among you stands one whom you do not know, the one who is coming after me; I am not worthy to untie the thong of his sandal.” This took place in Bethany across the Jordan where John was baptizing.
Posted by stpauls on November 27, 2011 under Sermons |
Last Thursday night, I visited with my colleague Dale Yardy, whom some of you might remember. Referred to as the “Muffin-Priest” or the “wee-one,” Dale was serving St. Paul’s for a while as associate priest some eight years ago. These days, Dale is rector of a church in Nunavut… well, Chilliwack. But, in order to get there, one has to cross not one bridge, not two bridges, not even three bridges, but, believe it or not, a multitude of bridges. Of course, when I meet with Dale in Chilliwack, I take a passport, a blanket, candles, a Bunsen burner, and about six boxes of canned food. One never knows what will happen to you on these trips…
Once I get there, I needed to relax from this strenuous and exhausting journey. And what better way for Anglican clergy to relax than to share food and drink together.
A while back, the former owners of Delilah’s here in the West End accepted a mission outreach program to the wilds of BC and opened a restaurant in Chilliwack. It’s called “Bravo,” and it is the West End away from the West End. That’s where we went. Yet, unlike Las Vegas, what happens in Chilliwack does not stay in Chilliwack.
So, here we were enjoying meal and company, when all of a sudden, unannounced, and quite out of left field, the music changed! In the midst of a relaxing dinner, we were listening to Christmas music. In November! Even before the first Sunday of Advent!
Quelle scandale!
Of course, this will be our reality for the weeks to come, and most of us have already been flooded with too much Christmas music. All around us, commerce is using our sacred songs for its own religion. Materialism drones its message into our hearts and minds, not shying away to do so by utilising what is holy to us.
It is annoying and heart-breaking to see how “global business” is building new temples all around us, new temples that not only overshadow the temples of our ancient revelation, but temples that also proclaim a new tradition, a new religion of consumerism.
And we all know that God is not in these new traditions.
There is another new tradition that seeks to take hold of me this sacred season of Advent. Parallel to and in reaction to the increasing consumerism, there is now a growing movement among well-meaning Christians who seek to claim back our holiday from these “God-less heathens,” who “stole” the heart of Christmas.
Already three times in the last few weeks, I have received invitations to “put Christ back into Christmas.” And I suspect as we move closer into the season I will once again be forwarded emails that share the author’s disgust with how political correctness and secularism have destroyed our Christian foundation here in Canada. These emails always share the same sentiment: By changing the “Christmas season” to a “Holiday season,” and the “Christmas tree” to a “Holiday tree,” we have capitulated to a minority that is out to destroy what makes us who we are.
I get the frustration expressed in these emails.
But too often these emails reveal also a lot of deep-seated suspicion and fear of anything different, anything we do not understand. Too often, these emails and letters overlook how what we do and practise matters and it can impede the well-being of others. It is not just through such obvious cases as the residential school system that we sin against others. Those who do not share our faith or have no faith at all are still created in the image of God. Christ’s face is still looking back at us when we interact with them. They are our sisters and brothers. And they have needs too. Their concerns should be our concerns as much as their pain is our pain.
No, God is not in this new tradition that tries to reclaim Christmas by diminishing others.
It is not easy to realise that part of our human condition is to either overlook and ignore God or to assign God to our own, narrow agenda. And it is even more difficult to learn that God is not always where we expect God to be.
But it might be a bit of comfort to learn that we are in good company.
Two thousand years ago, Jesus’ disciples were as much subjected to this aspect of the human condition as we are today. They might have followed the Son of God as he travelled about, taught, healed the sick, cast out demons, raised the dead, forgave sins, and challenged oppression and injustice. They might have been unimaginably close to God, who was revealed fully in Jesus and who touched them, embraced them, restored them to wholeness, and who sent them on the way. From our perspective, they had access to God in ways that makes me – and I suspect some of you – rather jealous.
And, yet, this proximity did not elevate them above their humanity. They remained in every aspect of their being our sisters and brothers, flesh of our flesh, bone of our bone. They were loved into being in an awesome, mysterious, and wonderful way by the Creator, but at the same time there was hurt, sinfulness, and brokenness in their lives, too. And the disciples also quite frequently looked for God in all the wrong places – only to discover: God was not there.
Just before we get to today’s account in the Gospel according to Mark, the text recounts how the disciples were walking up to Jerusalem, which was the cultural and religious centre of their world. It was a bustling city – at least in the eyes of country folk from the Galilee. And the disciples were blown away by the beauty of it all: God had to be there, right? Isn’t this what they had been brought up to believe? HaShekinah, the place where God touched the earth was in the temple in Jerusalem. How could this be looking for God in the wrong place?
Yet, Jesus blows the disciples’ perception to pieces. In verse 2 of the 13th chapter of Mark, he speaks of the destruction of the temple. A “desolating sacrilege” will ruin the sacred nature of the temple. And prophets will come – false prophets – who will appear to be speaking the truth, who will appear to claim and reclaim the religious traditions of old, who will appear to be good – and yet, it is evil they proclaim, it is of Godlessness they speak.
This is the context of today’s reading from Mark. It is the context for a text that is challenging, but very much appropriate in this season when we celebrate the arrival of the Saviour, when we will discover where God can indeed be found.
But we must be alert and stay awake. We must keep our eyes open. And we must keep our hearts open to discover God in the most unlikely and in the most surprising of places.
For Mark, this is the heart of the Gospel.
The incarnation, God’s coming into the flesh, is not some romantic birth among ox and ass in a stable with carolling angles and shepherds in awe. The incarnation is not romantic at all. It is risky business. It will darken the sun and moon; it will throw the stars from the heavens; and it will shake down the powers of this world. The incarnation will subject God to pain and desolation. And it will subject God to wilderness and even death.
Yet, this is exactly our hope.
God’s coming into our flesh brings God intimately and unspeakably close to us. But at the same time, this does not subject God to our standards, our norms, our aspirations, and our expectations: In Jesus, God is found not in a beautiful temple, not in the midst of the city, not among the powers of this age, not with the religious elites. Rather, in Jesus, God is revealed on the margins, on the side-lines, outside the city, in the wilderness, among the marginalised, with criminals, among those who just do not fit in, breaking bread with all who are hurting and all who are in pain.
And in Jesus, God is also found hanging lifeless from a tree.
But what looks like a defeat, God turns into victory – because God’s ways are not our ways. The cross turns into resurrection. The birth of a helpless babe turns into the salvation of the world. And God does not shy away from our darkness, but embraces it fully, and waits for us to be found right there in the midst of the deepest nights of our lives; God waits there with love too deep for words.
In Advent, God reveals a new thing, a new way of being that blows to smithereens our self-created hopes, our ancient lies, our hierarchy of power, our selfish schemes, and the life-sucking injustice and oppression all around us. Advent and today’s text from Mark cut through our crap and cut down any edifice, any temple we might erect to place some harmless, empty, self-gratifying deity inside of it.
Instead, God is revealed as the One, who is already present in the world all around us. In the midst of our turmoil and destruction, God is present. In the joys and celebrations of today, God is present. In the decay around us, God is present. In the withering lives we live, and even in our death, God is present. God does not stay away from our reality anymore, but brings light and life even to the darkest corners of our being.
So, be alert, keep awake, and discover God’s love.
Now.
Today.
And forever more.
