Francis de Sales was a seventeenth century bishop and spiritual teacher in Geneva. He taught that a life of prayer, or what we might call a spiritual practice, is important for all Christians, not just for the clothed religious or ordained clergy, but that each one’s devotions should be appropriate for the individual’s life circumstances. The life of prayer of a married woman with children, for example, would be different from that of a professed nun, just as the prayer of a labourer would be different from that of a priest. But each should have his or her own practice of prayer.
He used the metaphor of a bee gathering nectar: the bee goes to the flowers, but doesn’t damage them in the process, and similarly a person’s spiritual life should not be harmful to daily life, but enhance it. Like a jewel dipped in honey so that its colours shine brighter, so our daily life can be sanctified and sweetened by our prayer and devotion.
De Sales taught a form of meditation that starts with reflection on a Biblical theme, and then relates it to daily life in order to ground it. At the end of the period of meditation a resolution is to be made, so that some change – even a small one – takes place in the life of the one praying. The last step is to “make a little nosegay” (bunch of flowers) from the fruits of the meditation, to take into the rest of the day and revisit often, for refreshment.
What little nosegay can we take from today’s readings about wisdom, saltiness and light? May I offer a reflection from the Franciscan Richard Rohr:
“Wisdom is the freedom to be truly present to what is right in front of you…. People who are fully present know how to see fully, rightly, and truthfully. Presence is the one thing necessary for wisdom, and in many ways, it is the hardest thing of all. Just try to keep 1) your heart space open, 2) your mind without division or resistance, and 3) your body not somewhere else—and all at the same time!”
[From The Naked Now: Learning to See as the Mystics See, pp. 59-60]
This attentive presence, this wisdom, is prayer.
In your times of silent reflection on the word of God, let this wisdom of attentive presence honey-glaze your daily life. Make a little nosegay to take with you. And know that this is prayer.
SSJD Lucy Reid, priest-in-charge, St Aidan’s, Toronto
Tuesday, January 24, 2012
Tuesday, December 27, 2011
Sr. Debra's homily for St. John's Day (December 27, 2011)
From the cradle to the grave and beyond; from Christmastide through Epiphany to Lent and Easter; from the Incarnation to the Resurrection. On this the ‘Feast of St. John the Divine’, in Christmastide, we are invited among other things to reflect upon the journeys of lifetimes and the effect and significance those journeys have upon us as a Community. Our Lord Jesus, St. John, Mother Hannah — Each of our journeys separate, yet together.
Just a couple of days ago we found ourselves singing at the stable and today with John, we find ourselves standing at the entrance to the empty tomb gazing in wonder and expectancy. Like John we see and we believe. Like John what we see is more than the folded grave clothes and what we have come to believe is more than the empty tomb.
As I continue in my own spiritual journey I am interested in hearing how others have moved from one embraced understanding of God’s presence in their lives and in our world to another. For example, how did St. John move from being nicknamed by our Lord as one of the Sons of Thunder to being identified by Christ as the Apostle of Love. It seems to me that is a pretty big leap, especially if we look at some of the details of John’s early life and discipleship. Likewise how did Mother Hannah move from being a grieving widow to founding this Community of St. John the Divine.
For us as individuals and as members of this Sisterhood, it has been a long journey from a renovated stable on Robinson Street to this beautiful convent on Cummer Avenue. Likewise, it has been a long journey for [many] each of us from where we have been to where we presently are. On the day of our Patronal Festival, it is fitting that we take time to reflect. As someone reminded me recently, it is only in remembering where we have come from that we are able to appreciate the distance we have gone. In looking back we are able to acknowledge those who have been part of our formation along the way.
Personally speaking I was interested in exploring the relationship [as presented in our name, “The Sisterhood of St. John the Divine.”] between St. John the Divine, Mother Hannah, and this present community. At a glance the answer to this musing may seem obvious — we like St. John wish to be ‘Apostles of Love’ — or as G.H. Houghton put it in his letter of September 4, 1884, to Sr. Hannah:
The relationship between St. John, Mother Hannah and this community is that we all share in a brokenness that has been transformed and continues to be transformed through the resurrecting touch of Christ. The relationship that we share in and that may be observed in the transformation which takes place in our lives and work, is a direct result of the intentional individual and corporate relationship we have with Christ through prayer and service.
While John was given a privileged place with Christ as part of his inner circle of three, he like us like Mother Hannah was very ‘human’. Remember, this is the same John who was jealous and resented what he perceived as competition from rival miracle workers. This is the same John who insisted on the best seat in the kingdom of heaven for himself. This is the same John who when he saw Jesus being rejected by a village of Samaritans asked, “Lord, do you want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?” (Lord, if they are not for us, let’s wipe them out.) Jesus rebuked John as he had earlier rebuked Peter.
Somewhere in John’s journeying with Jesus, however, the thunderclouds broke and this Son of Thunder was transformed into the Apostle of Love whose name and devotion to Christ we, as a community, strive to emulate. So, when did it happen? When did this change in John occur? Was it as he watched our Lord being transfigured on the mountain? Was it at the raising of Jarius’ daughter from the dead or may as he waited sleeping in the Garden of Gethsemane? Could it have taken place as he stood with Mary at the foot of the cross? We don’t know. We often don’t know when and where the specific changes in our attitudes and ways of being take place. What we do know is a change has occurred. What we believe as members of the body of Christ is that God’s transforming love in Christ Jesus by the power of the Holy Spirit working in us has everything to do with the change.
Mother Hannah’s life and work is a testament to the faith and belief she had in the power of God to change the circumstances of the needy whom she served. Her faith and belief that God would provide through the generosity of others supporting her work in Christ is a faith and belief we continue to share today. It would not be possible for us to carry on the work we have been called to do in this place without the generous support and dedication to this ministry that is so freely given by our Anglican Church here in Canada and specifically by our Oblates, Associates, staff, volunteers, friends and partners [benefactors] in the religious life. Thank you!
Just as St. John faced the challenges of forming the early church in his time and Mother Hannah bore the challenge of beginning the only Sisterhood of its kind in her native land in her time, so we also bear the challenge of ministering in our time. We are not a new church and we are not a newly formed community. Our challenge is to spread an old gospel in a new way to a world that is largely indifferent to the message. The challenge for the ministry that we live with as a Sisterhood and members of the Anglican Church of Canada requires no less effort, persistence, faith and belief in our Lord’s sustaining presence than it did of St. John or Mother Hannah.
The evidence of Christ’s ever-present, sustaining devotion to us and with us in this ministry is sure!
Although three of our Sisters — Sr. Helena, Sr. Thelma-Anne and Sr. Madeleine Mary — were received back into the loving arms of our creator God this year, four new seekers have come to test their vocation in SSJD. In serving with you, we also participate in carrying out the mission and ministry of this household that was begun 127 years ago; as we learn the rule, the traditions and the ministry, we are finding our call alongside your call. At our Annual Chapter in August, each Sister reaffirmed her call to serve our Lord in this place through serving “the World God Loves” thus setting an example to us of your faith and devotion as the “beloved of the Beloved”.
As a Sisterhood, we confident that our Lord is leading us into new ventures in ministry even as we are being invited to embrace new partnerships. We continually pray for direction and the wise discernment necessary to follow our Lord in faith to the places to which we are being called. We are up to the challenge.
Finally I leave you with this quotation from Philip Yancey:
May we by the grace of God offer a glimpse of the kingdom to this world through our lives and our
service that have been transformed and continue to be transformed by God’s love. Amen.
Just a couple of days ago we found ourselves singing at the stable and today with John, we find ourselves standing at the entrance to the empty tomb gazing in wonder and expectancy. Like John we see and we believe. Like John what we see is more than the folded grave clothes and what we have come to believe is more than the empty tomb.
As I continue in my own spiritual journey I am interested in hearing how others have moved from one embraced understanding of God’s presence in their lives and in our world to another. For example, how did St. John move from being nicknamed by our Lord as one of the Sons of Thunder to being identified by Christ as the Apostle of Love. It seems to me that is a pretty big leap, especially if we look at some of the details of John’s early life and discipleship. Likewise how did Mother Hannah move from being a grieving widow to founding this Community of St. John the Divine.
For us as individuals and as members of this Sisterhood, it has been a long journey from a renovated stable on Robinson Street to this beautiful convent on Cummer Avenue. Likewise, it has been a long journey for [many] each of us from where we have been to where we presently are. On the day of our Patronal Festival, it is fitting that we take time to reflect. As someone reminded me recently, it is only in remembering where we have come from that we are able to appreciate the distance we have gone. In looking back we are able to acknowledge those who have been part of our formation along the way.
Personally speaking I was interested in exploring the relationship [as presented in our name, “The Sisterhood of St. John the Divine.”] between St. John the Divine, Mother Hannah, and this present community. At a glance the answer to this musing may seem obvious — we like St. John wish to be ‘Apostles of Love’ — or as G.H. Houghton put it in his letter of September 4, 1884, to Sr. Hannah:
“May the name which your Sisterhood is to bear be an indication of the Love which is to pervade and animate it; that all the members are indeed in a very special sense, ‘beloved of the Beloved’; are every mindful of the words, ‘Little children, love one another’; and that the things and thoughts and aims heavenly, are things and thoughts to which they are given.” (81 Memoir)At a glance the answer to this musing may seem obvious: we are a religious community and we are supposed to be loving. Some assume that by virtue of our title and where we live, we are naturally H-O-L-Y, holy. In truth we don’t come to this place H-O-L-Y, holy; we come WHOLLY, filled with all manner of wholes that need Divine attention. We learn to love because we come to realize that God first loved us. When we realize this for ourselves we want to share it with others.
The relationship between St. John, Mother Hannah and this community is that we all share in a brokenness that has been transformed and continues to be transformed through the resurrecting touch of Christ. The relationship that we share in and that may be observed in the transformation which takes place in our lives and work, is a direct result of the intentional individual and corporate relationship we have with Christ through prayer and service.
While John was given a privileged place with Christ as part of his inner circle of three, he like us like Mother Hannah was very ‘human’. Remember, this is the same John who was jealous and resented what he perceived as competition from rival miracle workers. This is the same John who insisted on the best seat in the kingdom of heaven for himself. This is the same John who when he saw Jesus being rejected by a village of Samaritans asked, “Lord, do you want us to command fire to come down from heaven and consume them?” (Lord, if they are not for us, let’s wipe them out.) Jesus rebuked John as he had earlier rebuked Peter.
Somewhere in John’s journeying with Jesus, however, the thunderclouds broke and this Son of Thunder was transformed into the Apostle of Love whose name and devotion to Christ we, as a community, strive to emulate. So, when did it happen? When did this change in John occur? Was it as he watched our Lord being transfigured on the mountain? Was it at the raising of Jarius’ daughter from the dead or may as he waited sleeping in the Garden of Gethsemane? Could it have taken place as he stood with Mary at the foot of the cross? We don’t know. We often don’t know when and where the specific changes in our attitudes and ways of being take place. What we do know is a change has occurred. What we believe as members of the body of Christ is that God’s transforming love in Christ Jesus by the power of the Holy Spirit working in us has everything to do with the change.
Mother Hannah’s life and work is a testament to the faith and belief she had in the power of God to change the circumstances of the needy whom she served. Her faith and belief that God would provide through the generosity of others supporting her work in Christ is a faith and belief we continue to share today. It would not be possible for us to carry on the work we have been called to do in this place without the generous support and dedication to this ministry that is so freely given by our Anglican Church here in Canada and specifically by our Oblates, Associates, staff, volunteers, friends and partners [benefactors] in the religious life. Thank you!
Just as St. John faced the challenges of forming the early church in his time and Mother Hannah bore the challenge of beginning the only Sisterhood of its kind in her native land in her time, so we also bear the challenge of ministering in our time. We are not a new church and we are not a newly formed community. Our challenge is to spread an old gospel in a new way to a world that is largely indifferent to the message. The challenge for the ministry that we live with as a Sisterhood and members of the Anglican Church of Canada requires no less effort, persistence, faith and belief in our Lord’s sustaining presence than it did of St. John or Mother Hannah.
The evidence of Christ’s ever-present, sustaining devotion to us and with us in this ministry is sure!
Although three of our Sisters — Sr. Helena, Sr. Thelma-Anne and Sr. Madeleine Mary — were received back into the loving arms of our creator God this year, four new seekers have come to test their vocation in SSJD. In serving with you, we also participate in carrying out the mission and ministry of this household that was begun 127 years ago; as we learn the rule, the traditions and the ministry, we are finding our call alongside your call. At our Annual Chapter in August, each Sister reaffirmed her call to serve our Lord in this place through serving “the World God Loves” thus setting an example to us of your faith and devotion as the “beloved of the Beloved”.
As a Sisterhood, we confident that our Lord is leading us into new ventures in ministry even as we are being invited to embrace new partnerships. We continually pray for direction and the wise discernment necessary to follow our Lord in faith to the places to which we are being called. We are up to the challenge.
Finally I leave you with this quotation from Philip Yancey:
“The people of God are not merely to mark time, waiting for God to step and set right all that is wrong. Rather they are to make the new heaven and the new earth and by so doing awaken longing for what God will some day bring to pass.”
May we by the grace of God offer a glimpse of the kingdom to this world through our lives and our
service that have been transformed and continue to be transformed by God’s love. Amen.
Friday, May 6, 2011
Sister Thelma-Anne McLeod SSJD 1928-2011
Today was designed to be a double celebration: first of John for whom the Fourth Gospel and the other writings attributed to him are named. Second, this was to be a joyful celebration of the 50th anniversary of the profession of Sister-Anne. I looked forward to her presence, hunched into her wheelchair, but it was not to be. Her death does not, however, relieve us from the opportunity to celebrate, to give thanks for her long, steady, and creative life as a member of this community.
First, however, a few words about St. John. Identification of the actual author is not as easy as the title of the day suggests. There are in the New Testament a number of men named John and scholars differ on the identity of the authors of this literature. I am reminded of debates about the authorship of the plays and poems of Shakespeare and the suggestion by a wag that they were written by another man with the same name. The title, “John the Evangelist,” refers to authorship of the Fourth Gospel.
The title, “John the Divine,” is frequently associated with the author of the book known as Apocalypse or Revelation, the vision of the last things and the final triumph of the kingdom of God. I have seen it suggested that the word “Divine” is used in a way that is associated with Anglican tradition. “Divines” for Anglicans are not simply godly people, they are theologians. The great Anglican scholars of our tradition’s most formative period are known as the “Caroline Divines.” They flourished during the reigns of Charles I and Charles II. When we refer to “John the Divine” we may really be saying, “John the Theologian.”
But let us leave aside questions of authorship and debate as to whether the literature identified by the name of John was written by a single man or even possibly by a community bearing his name. I offer a couple of points for reflection. The first is paradox. The author of the gospel seems to me to be able to hold together positions that might, at first glance, appear to be opposed. He presents Jesus as the embodiment—enfleshment, if you like—of the reason or mind or meaning of God. And with equal force he avoids the frequent temptation among Christians to suggest that Jesus only appears to be human. The Jesus of John’s gospel is totally human. He counsels the woman at the well who has a chequered marital history and suffers spiritual dryness and thirst. He weeps on the way to the grave of Lazarus. He says, “It is finished,” and gives up his spirit. And so in the first epistle attributed to John we read, “We declare to you what was from the beginning, what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands, concerning the word of life— this life was revealed, and we have seen it and testify to it, and declare to you the eternal life that was with the Father and was revealed to us.” This is the heart of the theology of John the evangelist, or John the theologian, if you prefer.
And this tangible, physical, fleshy experience leads to a practical, tangible, physical experience of community. Behind the writings attributed to John there is this possibility, this vision, of a community bound together by love—not sloppy sentimental affection but commitment to mutual care and responsibility. As we read elsewhere in the first epistle of John, “God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God and God abides in them.” (4.16b)
This brings me to the second dimension of our celebration today: the anniversary of the profession of Sister Thelma-Anne as a member of the community of the Sisterhood of St. John the Divine. Here I will speak more autobiographically. I first met Sister Thelma-Anne at a meeting of people concerned with theological education in the Province of Rupert’s Land. I met a sharp, forthright, direct personality. Our paths crossed a number of times in the ensuing years. And then she returned to the Toronto house of the community when I was a frequent presider at the Convent’s Sunday eucharist. She was the organist and director of music and we began a long friendship on the basis of liturgical collaboration.
Eventually the General Synod directed the Doctrine and Worship Committee to begin work on a new hymn book. Sister Thelma-Anne and I were members of the working group to which the task was assigned. The work went on for the next ten years. The mandate assigned to the Committee and its working group was to produce a collection which contained hymns both old and new, which would complement the Common Lectionary, and which would be as inclusive as possible in terms of theology, language, and gender.
Hundreds of hymns were considered. Some were selected as they were. Some were rejected. Others were tagged for adoption if they could be brought into line with the mandate, especially in the area of gender-specific language. Sister Thelma-Anne and I were constituted as a committee of two to work on these hymns. There were, as I remember, about 240 of them.
We met at the Botham Road convent for a day about once a month over a period of about eight years. Amending the hymns was concentrated work and sometimes we could finish only half a dozen hymns in a day. Sister Thelma-Anne brought committed but not fanatical feminism to the task. It was not enough to change gender loading; the result had to be as elegant and expressive as the original. Our goal was to make the work as invisible as possible. If people didn’t trip over the changes, we had succeeded.
This is a homily and not a biography so I will limit myself to two more aspects of the life of Sister -Anne.
First, for more than twenty years Sister Thelma-Anne offered her gifts of leadership to the Toronto chapter of Integrity, an organization of gay and lesbian Anglicans and their friends. Having become aware of discrimination on the part of both church and society against people with a same-sex orientation, she conducted retreats for the members of Integrity and wrote articles for their newsletter. In 2001 Sister Thelma-Anne was diagnosed to have Parkinson’s Disease. She treated it not as something she had, like a cold, but as something she was and which was therefore to be met and assimilated into the fabric of her journey. She met the disease with characteristic spiritual and intellectual vigor. All of this is documented in her book In Age Reborn, by Grace Sustained. She tells the story of the ups and downs of this degenerative disorder, a journey documented through the filter of her own ongoing development as a Christian and a religious. She concludes with the message that if she were asked to express in a single word what her experience has meant to her, the word would be grace. She wrote, “I have found again and again that what has been lost on one level is restored on another. And lost again. The gifts give me hope that lost ground can be recovered, if only temporarily. Nevertheless, the time comes to relinquish freely and generously into the wounded hands of the Saviour, the gifts and strengths we were entrusted with.”
Today’s psalm was doubtless chosen to highlight the ministry of St. John the Divine. It may be applied equally to the ministry of Sister Thelma-Anne, which we also celebrate today.
1 It is good to give thanks to the Lord,
to sing praises to your name, O Most High;
2 to declare your steadfast love in the morning,
and your faithfulness by night,
12 The righteous flourish like the palm tree,
and grow like a cedar in Lebanon.
13 They are planted in the house of the Lord;
they flourish in the courts of our God.
14 In old age they still produce fruit;
they are always green and full of sap,
he is my rock, and there is no unrighteousness in him.
Amen.
Paul Gibson
(Italics added)
First, however, a few words about St. John. Identification of the actual author is not as easy as the title of the day suggests. There are in the New Testament a number of men named John and scholars differ on the identity of the authors of this literature. I am reminded of debates about the authorship of the plays and poems of Shakespeare and the suggestion by a wag that they were written by another man with the same name. The title, “John the Evangelist,” refers to authorship of the Fourth Gospel.
The title, “John the Divine,” is frequently associated with the author of the book known as Apocalypse or Revelation, the vision of the last things and the final triumph of the kingdom of God. I have seen it suggested that the word “Divine” is used in a way that is associated with Anglican tradition. “Divines” for Anglicans are not simply godly people, they are theologians. The great Anglican scholars of our tradition’s most formative period are known as the “Caroline Divines.” They flourished during the reigns of Charles I and Charles II. When we refer to “John the Divine” we may really be saying, “John the Theologian.”
But let us leave aside questions of authorship and debate as to whether the literature identified by the name of John was written by a single man or even possibly by a community bearing his name. I offer a couple of points for reflection. The first is paradox. The author of the gospel seems to me to be able to hold together positions that might, at first glance, appear to be opposed. He presents Jesus as the embodiment—enfleshment, if you like—of the reason or mind or meaning of God. And with equal force he avoids the frequent temptation among Christians to suggest that Jesus only appears to be human. The Jesus of John’s gospel is totally human. He counsels the woman at the well who has a chequered marital history and suffers spiritual dryness and thirst. He weeps on the way to the grave of Lazarus. He says, “It is finished,” and gives up his spirit. And so in the first epistle attributed to John we read, “We declare to you what was from the beginning, what we have heard, what we have seen with our eyes, what we have looked at and touched with our hands, concerning the word of life— this life was revealed, and we have seen it and testify to it, and declare to you the eternal life that was with the Father and was revealed to us.” This is the heart of the theology of John the evangelist, or John the theologian, if you prefer.
And this tangible, physical, fleshy experience leads to a practical, tangible, physical experience of community. Behind the writings attributed to John there is this possibility, this vision, of a community bound together by love—not sloppy sentimental affection but commitment to mutual care and responsibility. As we read elsewhere in the first epistle of John, “God is love, and those who abide in love abide in God and God abides in them.” (4.16b)
This brings me to the second dimension of our celebration today: the anniversary of the profession of Sister Thelma-Anne as a member of the community of the Sisterhood of St. John the Divine. Here I will speak more autobiographically. I first met Sister Thelma-Anne at a meeting of people concerned with theological education in the Province of Rupert’s Land. I met a sharp, forthright, direct personality. Our paths crossed a number of times in the ensuing years. And then she returned to the Toronto house of the community when I was a frequent presider at the Convent’s Sunday eucharist. She was the organist and director of music and we began a long friendship on the basis of liturgical collaboration.
Eventually the General Synod directed the Doctrine and Worship Committee to begin work on a new hymn book. Sister Thelma-Anne and I were members of the working group to which the task was assigned. The work went on for the next ten years. The mandate assigned to the Committee and its working group was to produce a collection which contained hymns both old and new, which would complement the Common Lectionary, and which would be as inclusive as possible in terms of theology, language, and gender.
Hundreds of hymns were considered. Some were selected as they were. Some were rejected. Others were tagged for adoption if they could be brought into line with the mandate, especially in the area of gender-specific language. Sister Thelma-Anne and I were constituted as a committee of two to work on these hymns. There were, as I remember, about 240 of them.
We met at the Botham Road convent for a day about once a month over a period of about eight years. Amending the hymns was concentrated work and sometimes we could finish only half a dozen hymns in a day. Sister Thelma-Anne brought committed but not fanatical feminism to the task. It was not enough to change gender loading; the result had to be as elegant and expressive as the original. Our goal was to make the work as invisible as possible. If people didn’t trip over the changes, we had succeeded.
This is a homily and not a biography so I will limit myself to two more aspects of the life of Sister -Anne.
First, for more than twenty years Sister Thelma-Anne offered her gifts of leadership to the Toronto chapter of Integrity, an organization of gay and lesbian Anglicans and their friends. Having become aware of discrimination on the part of both church and society against people with a same-sex orientation, she conducted retreats for the members of Integrity and wrote articles for their newsletter. In 2001 Sister Thelma-Anne was diagnosed to have Parkinson’s Disease. She treated it not as something she had, like a cold, but as something she was and which was therefore to be met and assimilated into the fabric of her journey. She met the disease with characteristic spiritual and intellectual vigor. All of this is documented in her book In Age Reborn, by Grace Sustained. She tells the story of the ups and downs of this degenerative disorder, a journey documented through the filter of her own ongoing development as a Christian and a religious. She concludes with the message that if she were asked to express in a single word what her experience has meant to her, the word would be grace. She wrote, “I have found again and again that what has been lost on one level is restored on another. And lost again. The gifts give me hope that lost ground can be recovered, if only temporarily. Nevertheless, the time comes to relinquish freely and generously into the wounded hands of the Saviour, the gifts and strengths we were entrusted with.”
Today’s psalm was doubtless chosen to highlight the ministry of St. John the Divine. It may be applied equally to the ministry of Sister Thelma-Anne, which we also celebrate today.
1 It is good to give thanks to the Lord,
to sing praises to your name, O Most High;
2 to declare your steadfast love in the morning,
and your faithfulness by night,
12 The righteous flourish like the palm tree,
and grow like a cedar in Lebanon.
13 They are planted in the house of the Lord;
they flourish in the courts of our God.
14 In old age they still produce fruit;
they are always green and full of sap,
he is my rock, and there is no unrighteousness in him.
Amen.
Paul Gibson
(Italics added)
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Homily for Sr. Helena's Funeral
Isaiah 24.6-9
Psalm 139.1-16 1
John 3.1-2
Luke 24.13-16, 28-35
“Walk slowly, look holy.”
This was the maxim that Sr. Helena taught all of us to live by – especially those of us who were trained by her in work of the sacristy and chapel. She herself was calm, contemplative, serene and gentle in her approach to chapel work, and she taught us, too, not to take ourselves too seriously – to remember that everything we did was for God. And because God’s love is unconditional, our worship would not be spoiled in any way if we made a mistake.
I remember one time when the chapel was set up for our Saturday evening Vigil of the Resurrection, with the water pitcher on the little table next to the baptismal font, ready for the Thanksgiving over the Water. The sister who was appointed to say the thanksgiving prayer that night picked up the pitcher and realized there was no water in it, and Sr. Helena herself realized it in a wink. But rather than jumping up, as some of us might, and running over to the font with a worried expression on her face, she did it all in a typically Helena way – got up from her choir stall, acknowledged the altar, walked contemplatively over to the font, picked up the pitcher, walked contemplatively out to the sacristy, turned on the water, filled the pitcher, turned off the water, walked back in, acknowledged the altar, brought it to the sister waiting to pour the water and say the prayer. The sisters knew what happened (and some might have chuckled under their breaths) but for the guests, it could easily have seemed to be a planned part of the ceremonial.
This was Sr. Helena’s way of life. Whatever happened, God was there in the midst of it, blessing her, blessing everyone. We are “fearfully and wonderfully made,” as the psalm says. “God formed our inward parts and knit us together in our mother’s womb” – so how could God possibly get upset over something as trivial as forgetting to put water in the ewer!
Walk slowly, look holy.
She never meant “look holy” to mean look religious or pious. She meant look like you are a beloved child of God. Don’t rush, don’t fret, don’t worry. Live the liturgy as it’s meant to be lived, with joy and peace. Walk through life with serenity and delight, relishing the love which God pours out on us.
That is what the two disciples in the gospel narrative discover. They are grieving. They have lost their leader, they are going to Emmaus as though the cause has failed, back to their families and the occupations they were engaged in before they met Jesus. They are walking slowly but looking worried and distressed rather than holy.
When Jesus meets them on the road, he engages with them as a teacher, explaining to them the passages in the Hebrew Scriptures that relate to him. But it is not until they are at table together, and he breaks the bread, that they recognize him for who he truly is. Then they return to Jerusalem to share the good news the other disciples.
The Emmaus story is a reflection of Helena’s life in community. She knew who Jesus was, she had been a faithful Christian for many years before joining the Sisterhood. But it was in community – around this table as we broke bread together, around the Refectory table at silent or talking meals, and in our common life – that she grew in knowledge of Jesus as the lover of souls, and in herself as God’s beloved. She was a strong contemplative, and needed lots of private time and space to keep her sane and to nurture her relationship with God. But she was also a social person, and like the disciples returning from Emmaus to Jerusalem, she couldn’t help but share her ever-deepening experience of God’s love with other.
She talked to people and encouraged them in their spiritual quests. She ministered to peoples’ physical and spiritual needs. In her community life Sr. Helena worked in almost every house of the Sisterhood and most departments. It was a natural outgrowth of the life she lived before community. She had worked as a commercial artist, in the Civil service, and in the Canadian Women’s Army Corps during World War II. When she arrived on the Convent doorstep after the war, she said she was looking for two things that came out of her previous experience, and I quote her: I wanted “to live closer to God, and to help to prevent World War III from taking place.” In that dual call is summed up Sr. Helena’s desire to bring harmony to human life and the cosmos. It was her unique method of evangelism.
One thing I remember most about her ministering God’s love to people was the Bible studies she use to lead on Friday evenings for guests who came to stay at the Convent for the weekend. When I used to drive up to Willowdale with my friends from Detroit in the 1970s this was one of things we most looked forward to. After supper on Friday night, she would invite whoever wanted to come to join her in the Holy Spirit Chapel. We would read the gospel reading for the following Sunday, and she would lead us in a unique exploration, touching on topics I had never heard of – the cosmic Christ, the oneness of all of us in God, our coinherence in God and God in us – and also topics I had heard of but never grasped in depth before – the unconditional love of God, the unique value of each person God created, and the beauty of God’s Word in scripture.
She loved scripture, and she prayed faithfully and earnestly for the Bible society throughout the world. She learned about new translations in languages I had never heard of. In recent years, when her blindness became severe, her wonderful friend Blossom would read the daily entries from the Bible society booklet to her and Helena would memorize them and pray for them in the intercessions each day at the Eucharist.
Jesus was known to her in the breaking of bread, in community, in the breaking open of the scripture, and most of all in her own contemplative prayer.
She loved Teilhard de Chardin, Thomas Merton, John of the Cross and especially John the beloved disciple. She prayed with her soul, her mind and her body – we all will remember her unique, absolutely faithful brand of Tai Chi. Perhaps nowhere was walking slowly and looking holy more evident than when she was out on the lawn in St. Lambert or Botham Road – or here in the Sisters’ courtyard, doing her own ballerina interpretation of Tai Chi.
Her holistic spirituality can best be expressed through something she herself said – this is an excerpt from her response to the wonderful toast that Sr. Thelma-Anne gave at her 50th profession anniversary.
She tells that just a few hours after she had typed up her history for Sr. Frances Joyce, a Godincident happened. Fr. Russell, preaching at the Sisters’ Sunday Eucharist, said (in Helena’s words),
As we give thanks for Helena’s life, may we too discern Christ in the breaking of bread at this table, and may we remember two important lessons from Sr. Helena – that it’s OK to walk slowly and contemplatively through life, and that it’s good to be holy – and wholly aware of how beloved we are of God.
Sr. Constance Joanna, SSJD
April 14, 2011
Psalm 139.1-16 1
John 3.1-2
Luke 24.13-16, 28-35
“Walk slowly, look holy.”
This was the maxim that Sr. Helena taught all of us to live by – especially those of us who were trained by her in work of the sacristy and chapel. She herself was calm, contemplative, serene and gentle in her approach to chapel work, and she taught us, too, not to take ourselves too seriously – to remember that everything we did was for God. And because God’s love is unconditional, our worship would not be spoiled in any way if we made a mistake.
I remember one time when the chapel was set up for our Saturday evening Vigil of the Resurrection, with the water pitcher on the little table next to the baptismal font, ready for the Thanksgiving over the Water. The sister who was appointed to say the thanksgiving prayer that night picked up the pitcher and realized there was no water in it, and Sr. Helena herself realized it in a wink. But rather than jumping up, as some of us might, and running over to the font with a worried expression on her face, she did it all in a typically Helena way – got up from her choir stall, acknowledged the altar, walked contemplatively over to the font, picked up the pitcher, walked contemplatively out to the sacristy, turned on the water, filled the pitcher, turned off the water, walked back in, acknowledged the altar, brought it to the sister waiting to pour the water and say the prayer. The sisters knew what happened (and some might have chuckled under their breaths) but for the guests, it could easily have seemed to be a planned part of the ceremonial.
This was Sr. Helena’s way of life. Whatever happened, God was there in the midst of it, blessing her, blessing everyone. We are “fearfully and wonderfully made,” as the psalm says. “God formed our inward parts and knit us together in our mother’s womb” – so how could God possibly get upset over something as trivial as forgetting to put water in the ewer!
Walk slowly, look holy.
She never meant “look holy” to mean look religious or pious. She meant look like you are a beloved child of God. Don’t rush, don’t fret, don’t worry. Live the liturgy as it’s meant to be lived, with joy and peace. Walk through life with serenity and delight, relishing the love which God pours out on us.
That is what the two disciples in the gospel narrative discover. They are grieving. They have lost their leader, they are going to Emmaus as though the cause has failed, back to their families and the occupations they were engaged in before they met Jesus. They are walking slowly but looking worried and distressed rather than holy.
When Jesus meets them on the road, he engages with them as a teacher, explaining to them the passages in the Hebrew Scriptures that relate to him. But it is not until they are at table together, and he breaks the bread, that they recognize him for who he truly is. Then they return to Jerusalem to share the good news the other disciples.
The Emmaus story is a reflection of Helena’s life in community. She knew who Jesus was, she had been a faithful Christian for many years before joining the Sisterhood. But it was in community – around this table as we broke bread together, around the Refectory table at silent or talking meals, and in our common life – that she grew in knowledge of Jesus as the lover of souls, and in herself as God’s beloved. She was a strong contemplative, and needed lots of private time and space to keep her sane and to nurture her relationship with God. But she was also a social person, and like the disciples returning from Emmaus to Jerusalem, she couldn’t help but share her ever-deepening experience of God’s love with other.
She talked to people and encouraged them in their spiritual quests. She ministered to peoples’ physical and spiritual needs. In her community life Sr. Helena worked in almost every house of the Sisterhood and most departments. It was a natural outgrowth of the life she lived before community. She had worked as a commercial artist, in the Civil service, and in the Canadian Women’s Army Corps during World War II. When she arrived on the Convent doorstep after the war, she said she was looking for two things that came out of her previous experience, and I quote her: I wanted “to live closer to God, and to help to prevent World War III from taking place.” In that dual call is summed up Sr. Helena’s desire to bring harmony to human life and the cosmos. It was her unique method of evangelism.
One thing I remember most about her ministering God’s love to people was the Bible studies she use to lead on Friday evenings for guests who came to stay at the Convent for the weekend. When I used to drive up to Willowdale with my friends from Detroit in the 1970s this was one of things we most looked forward to. After supper on Friday night, she would invite whoever wanted to come to join her in the Holy Spirit Chapel. We would read the gospel reading for the following Sunday, and she would lead us in a unique exploration, touching on topics I had never heard of – the cosmic Christ, the oneness of all of us in God, our coinherence in God and God in us – and also topics I had heard of but never grasped in depth before – the unconditional love of God, the unique value of each person God created, and the beauty of God’s Word in scripture.
She loved scripture, and she prayed faithfully and earnestly for the Bible society throughout the world. She learned about new translations in languages I had never heard of. In recent years, when her blindness became severe, her wonderful friend Blossom would read the daily entries from the Bible society booklet to her and Helena would memorize them and pray for them in the intercessions each day at the Eucharist.
Jesus was known to her in the breaking of bread, in community, in the breaking open of the scripture, and most of all in her own contemplative prayer.
She loved Teilhard de Chardin, Thomas Merton, John of the Cross and especially John the beloved disciple. She prayed with her soul, her mind and her body – we all will remember her unique, absolutely faithful brand of Tai Chi. Perhaps nowhere was walking slowly and looking holy more evident than when she was out on the lawn in St. Lambert or Botham Road – or here in the Sisters’ courtyard, doing her own ballerina interpretation of Tai Chi.
Her holistic spirituality can best be expressed through something she herself said – this is an excerpt from her response to the wonderful toast that Sr. Thelma-Anne gave at her 50th profession anniversary.
“Whatever measure we may – and should – take to promote human harmony, the one underlying absolute essential is the transforming presence of God in the inmost depths of the human consciousness, at the deepest root that is the gut source of human behaviour. This is no quick fix. Ask any gardener, even, or physiotherapist, or psychotherapist. But the whole power of God is behind it, and in it, and working through it. The inner consciousness of the whole created universe is one – in Christ – in God – shattered by a mysterious and deadly alienation out of God, yet still an amazing internet – co-inherent, intercontingent, interactive, interdependent – and each of us a web site, opening the way for God into, or shutting God out of, the whole internet. A bit simplistic? Or is it? You and I, each one of us in our small corner of life, has the amazing privilege and awesome responsibility of choosing to live toward God, to join in creation’s love song to God, with God-in-us singing God’s Love Song to all creation.”Sr. Helena had a sense of wonder about everything – about the cosmos, about God, about the love which God pours out on us. And the wonder of this love gave Sr. Helena a confidence about the future which is summed up in the letter from John:
See what love the Father has given us, that we should be called children of God; and that is what we are. Beloved, we are God's children now; what we will be has not yet been revealed. What we do know is this: when he is revealed, we will be like him, for we will see him as he is.She saw this, I believe, most fully just a few days before she died. One day, Sr. Jessica heard her describing a vision of beautiful flowers – daffodils and many other – she described their lovely scent and colours. Another day Jessica heard Sr. Helena describing a vision of children – “they are so beautiful,” she said. She saw God’s love in nature, in people, in the vulnerable, including children. She looked forward to the future with joy, and I think this can best be summed up in something she wrote back in the 1980's. Sr. Frances Joyce had asked all the sisters to write up a short history of their lives in community. I want to read the end of Sr. Helena’s which I think sums up her hope for her own eternal life and her confidence in the fulfilment of God’s eternal purpose:
She tells that just a few hours after she had typed up her history for Sr. Frances Joyce, a Godincident happened. Fr. Russell, preaching at the Sisters’ Sunday Eucharist, said (in Helena’s words),
“that chronological time is ‘artificial’ – that real time is happenings and experiences, and quoted a philosopher who said that time is the progress of the soul. And that is what we are about, isn’t it? However, chronological time is necessary for synchronising us all, and establishing history.Her sense of God’s time, or kairos – what Fr. Russell called “real time” – is captured not only in the reading from John’s letter but also in Isaiah:
On this mountain the LORD of hosts will make for all peoples a feast of rich food, a feast of well-aged wines, of rich food filled with marrow, of well-aged wines strained clear. . . . It will be said on that day, Lo, this is our God for whom we have waited. . . . let us be glad and rejoice in God’s salvation.Another banquet, another table. Like the disciples who saw Jesus when he broke the bread, Helena now sees God as God is, and she knows beyond the shadow of a doubt that she is loved completely, unconditionally. Much like our own discerning of God’s presence in the breaking of the Eucharistic bread,
As we give thanks for Helena’s life, may we too discern Christ in the breaking of bread at this table, and may we remember two important lessons from Sr. Helena – that it’s OK to walk slowly and contemplatively through life, and that it’s good to be holy – and wholly aware of how beloved we are of God.
Sr. Constance Joanna, SSJD
April 14, 2011
Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Ash Wednesday, 2010
Shrove Tuesday pancakes
and with real maple syrup—
before lenten fare.
Sometime early last December I began writing haiku poetry, something that I hadn’t done in a long time. I was preparing for a retreat talk and was looking for ideas for an activity that would engage people in the biblical text we were using. Haiku are short poems, no longer than 17 syllables written in three lines of five, seven and five syllables. In their brevity, haiku capture a thought and feeling about a fleeting moment, something that intrigues the poet’s heart. Haiku are wonderful for capturing the essence, the pearls of wisdom that we read in Holy Scripture.
This haiku I wrote as I was thinking about pancakes for supper on Shrove Tuesday and the delight of having real maple syrup, a treat before the simpler lenten fare which begins with Ash Wednesday. You know the saying, “absence makes the heart grow fonder”? Well, fasting from things, a common practice in Lent, is to make the enjoyment of them ever sweeter when you take them up once more.
Shortly after I began writing haiku again I found a book called Haiku – The Sacred Art: A Spiritual Practice in Three Lines, by Margaret D. McGee [see excerpts here], which I eagerly read. In it was a challenge to write a haiku a day for 100 days. As of today I am at #33 with the haiku on Shrove Tuesday. It is a challenge and a discipline. It puts me in mind of the season of Lent we are approaching and of the various ways people will mark this season.
Some people will mark the season of Lent by giving up things such as chocolate or coffee or wine. The Church generally abstains from using Alleluias during lent. The Rev. Margaret Guenther, Anglican priest, renowned author, speaker and spiritual director, once suggested that people might fast from the media for a while. Imagine giving up television during Lent or the internet. Rather than letting go of things, other people will intentionally take on spiritual practices during Lent such as practising patience, kindness, gentleness, and making donations — what we used to call almsgiving.
Both ways, giving up and taking on, get at the essence of the spiritual reasons behind why we do these things. Any spiritual discipline we take on is to help us put on the mind and heart of Christ in our daily lives in an intentional way. Practising the discipline for 40 days will help make it a habit. Or you might take on something like the 100 day haiku challenge instead.
May you have a blessed and holy Lent.
Sr. Elizabeth Ann, SSJD
and with real maple syrup—
before lenten fare.
Sometime early last December I began writing haiku poetry, something that I hadn’t done in a long time. I was preparing for a retreat talk and was looking for ideas for an activity that would engage people in the biblical text we were using. Haiku are short poems, no longer than 17 syllables written in three lines of five, seven and five syllables. In their brevity, haiku capture a thought and feeling about a fleeting moment, something that intrigues the poet’s heart. Haiku are wonderful for capturing the essence, the pearls of wisdom that we read in Holy Scripture.
This haiku I wrote as I was thinking about pancakes for supper on Shrove Tuesday and the delight of having real maple syrup, a treat before the simpler lenten fare which begins with Ash Wednesday. You know the saying, “absence makes the heart grow fonder”? Well, fasting from things, a common practice in Lent, is to make the enjoyment of them ever sweeter when you take them up once more.
Shortly after I began writing haiku again I found a book called Haiku – The Sacred Art: A Spiritual Practice in Three Lines, by Margaret D. McGee [see excerpts here], which I eagerly read. In it was a challenge to write a haiku a day for 100 days. As of today I am at #33 with the haiku on Shrove Tuesday. It is a challenge and a discipline. It puts me in mind of the season of Lent we are approaching and of the various ways people will mark this season.
Some people will mark the season of Lent by giving up things such as chocolate or coffee or wine. The Church generally abstains from using Alleluias during lent. The Rev. Margaret Guenther, Anglican priest, renowned author, speaker and spiritual director, once suggested that people might fast from the media for a while. Imagine giving up television during Lent or the internet. Rather than letting go of things, other people will intentionally take on spiritual practices during Lent such as practising patience, kindness, gentleness, and making donations — what we used to call almsgiving.
Both ways, giving up and taking on, get at the essence of the spiritual reasons behind why we do these things. Any spiritual discipline we take on is to help us put on the mind and heart of Christ in our daily lives in an intentional way. Practising the discipline for 40 days will help make it a habit. Or you might take on something like the 100 day haiku challenge instead.
May you have a blessed and holy Lent.
Sr. Elizabeth Ann, SSJD
Tuesday, February 2, 2010
Feast of the Presentation
Feast of the Presentation of Jesus in the Temple
When we read the gospel stories, especially this one, that is so family oriented and familiar, I think that sometimes we miss some of what it might be saying to each one of us in our own situation and life today.
Luke the evangelist tells us that Jesus was presented in the house of God as the Law of Moses required - and Mary and Joseph offered what the law said for the first-born of poor parents: a pair of turtle doves or two young pigeons. They offered Jesus to God and received Jesus back, entrusted to their care. They came to give thanks for the gift of this child. I am sure they prayed for the quiet strength and patient wisdom to nurture this child Jesus in all that is good, true, just and pure. It was a symbolic act, an outward sign of a deep inward understanding and mystery. What they were willing to give up returned to them as a great gift. In letting go, in releasing control ... the gift is the freedom to receive much more in return. As you look at a young child with this inner understanding and mystery, you know that giving up - not possessing - allows them to become who they were meant to be - means that you receive a far greater gift in return. We know this is our own relationships with each other, we know this in our life together in community as we learn to live together with our differences. This giving and receiving - is a paradox - the more we give, the more we are able to receive, the more we hold on to and guard, the less we are able to be open to more. How do we come as individuals, as families, as a church community - and present ourselves to the God, offer ourselves to God - give ourselves as gift: and with that same quiet strength that Mary and Joseph asked for - wait to receive back what God longs to give to us?
Luke then goes on to tell how two people came to the temple and praised God when they saw the child Jesus. What I would like to focus on today in this gospel story are these two people: Simeon and Anna.
Simeon took the child Jesus into his arms, and danced and sang praises to God: a song that celebrated the child’s birth, a song that proclaimed the child as the glory of Israel and a light to the Gentiles - and a song that also spoke chillingly in prophecy of what a contradiction this child would be - destined for the rising and falling of many and a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed.
Jesus, as contradictions sign - You and I know something of contradictions in our own lives ... what we do not always see is, and what I believe we need to begin to see, is that Jesus is in the midst of all those contradictions ... so that the inner thoughts and desires, the deeper meanings and experiences that God longs for for us, can become clear. Simeon takes this Jesus, contradictions sign, in his arms, accepts and celebrates the contradiction, lingering over it, pondering it, accepting it as it is ... willing to enter into the contradiction in order to discover deeper meaning, deeper understanding, deeper relationships. As Simeon takes the child Jesus in his arms, and offers Jesus to God in praise and dance ... I believe he also experienced being offered himself and that indeed he also was held in the arms of God. A small baby held in our arms ... do we not also experience that same overwhelming experience of being held ourselves within the mystery of love? This feast day - the Presentation - is God’s gift to us of being ourselves held within the mystery of love. Like Simeon who held the infant Jesus, the light of the world, in his arms ... we too are called to hold Jesus, the light of the world in our arms for the life of the world.
Then Anna appears on the scene! Again there are praises and joy ... in this little child, Anna saw God and spoke to everyone who was there. This little child was the light of the world, who they were all waiting for. Anna had waited and prayed for a long time ... I am sure that she too took the baby in her arms, and walked up and down showing the child to anyone passing by, telling them that this was what they had been waiting for. This child would make a wonderful contribution to the world ... the child they were waiting for ... the redemption of Jerusalem: the healer, the Saviour, the light of the world. Anna had waited a long time ... what she now saw was like an icon: she saw what the child means. She had eyes to see through Jesus, and like Simeon, saw that we are called to hold Jesus, the light of the world in our arms for the life of the world. Her waiting had given her the gift of seeing through ... with understanding, compassion and an accepting heart, with courage and patience .. and to all who were passing by ... in praise and joy ... in this little child, Anna presented God.
Can we, you and I, in our waiting and longing for understanding, compassion and an accepting heart ... can we with courage and patience ... receive that gift of seeing through? Seeing deeply with the eyes of our heart ... seeing in the child Jesus, each other. On this feast of the presentation can we hold the child Jesus in our arms for the life of the world ... can we hold each other in the heart of God, can this community of faith here at St Paul’s enter into the presentation - and with each other hold out in praise and joy the light of the world for the world?
Blessed are you, O Lord our God
for you have sent us your salvation.
Inspire us by your Holy Spirit
to recognize him who is the glory of Israel
and the light for all nations,
your Son Jesus Christ our Lord.
Sr. Doreen, SSJD
When we read the gospel stories, especially this one, that is so family oriented and familiar, I think that sometimes we miss some of what it might be saying to each one of us in our own situation and life today.
Luke the evangelist tells us that Jesus was presented in the house of God as the Law of Moses required - and Mary and Joseph offered what the law said for the first-born of poor parents: a pair of turtle doves or two young pigeons. They offered Jesus to God and received Jesus back, entrusted to their care. They came to give thanks for the gift of this child. I am sure they prayed for the quiet strength and patient wisdom to nurture this child Jesus in all that is good, true, just and pure. It was a symbolic act, an outward sign of a deep inward understanding and mystery. What they were willing to give up returned to them as a great gift. In letting go, in releasing control ... the gift is the freedom to receive much more in return. As you look at a young child with this inner understanding and mystery, you know that giving up - not possessing - allows them to become who they were meant to be - means that you receive a far greater gift in return. We know this is our own relationships with each other, we know this in our life together in community as we learn to live together with our differences. This giving and receiving - is a paradox - the more we give, the more we are able to receive, the more we hold on to and guard, the less we are able to be open to more. How do we come as individuals, as families, as a church community - and present ourselves to the God, offer ourselves to God - give ourselves as gift: and with that same quiet strength that Mary and Joseph asked for - wait to receive back what God longs to give to us? Luke then goes on to tell how two people came to the temple and praised God when they saw the child Jesus. What I would like to focus on today in this gospel story are these two people: Simeon and Anna.
Simeon took the child Jesus into his arms, and danced and sang praises to God: a song that celebrated the child’s birth, a song that proclaimed the child as the glory of Israel and a light to the Gentiles - and a song that also spoke chillingly in prophecy of what a contradiction this child would be - destined for the rising and falling of many and a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed.
Jesus, as contradictions sign - You and I know something of contradictions in our own lives ... what we do not always see is, and what I believe we need to begin to see, is that Jesus is in the midst of all those contradictions ... so that the inner thoughts and desires, the deeper meanings and experiences that God longs for for us, can become clear. Simeon takes this Jesus, contradictions sign, in his arms, accepts and celebrates the contradiction, lingering over it, pondering it, accepting it as it is ... willing to enter into the contradiction in order to discover deeper meaning, deeper understanding, deeper relationships. As Simeon takes the child Jesus in his arms, and offers Jesus to God in praise and dance ... I believe he also experienced being offered himself and that indeed he also was held in the arms of God. A small baby held in our arms ... do we not also experience that same overwhelming experience of being held ourselves within the mystery of love? This feast day - the Presentation - is God’s gift to us of being ourselves held within the mystery of love. Like Simeon who held the infant Jesus, the light of the world, in his arms ... we too are called to hold Jesus, the light of the world in our arms for the life of the world.
Then Anna appears on the scene! Again there are praises and joy ... in this little child, Anna saw God and spoke to everyone who was there. This little child was the light of the world, who they were all waiting for. Anna had waited and prayed for a long time ... I am sure that she too took the baby in her arms, and walked up and down showing the child to anyone passing by, telling them that this was what they had been waiting for. This child would make a wonderful contribution to the world ... the child they were waiting for ... the redemption of Jerusalem: the healer, the Saviour, the light of the world. Anna had waited a long time ... what she now saw was like an icon: she saw what the child means. She had eyes to see through Jesus, and like Simeon, saw that we are called to hold Jesus, the light of the world in our arms for the life of the world. Her waiting had given her the gift of seeing through ... with understanding, compassion and an accepting heart, with courage and patience .. and to all who were passing by ... in praise and joy ... in this little child, Anna presented God.
Can we, you and I, in our waiting and longing for understanding, compassion and an accepting heart ... can we with courage and patience ... receive that gift of seeing through? Seeing deeply with the eyes of our heart ... seeing in the child Jesus, each other. On this feast of the presentation can we hold the child Jesus in our arms for the life of the world ... can we hold each other in the heart of God, can this community of faith here at St Paul’s enter into the presentation - and with each other hold out in praise and joy the light of the world for the world?
Blessed are you, O Lord our God
for you have sent us your salvation.
Inspire us by your Holy Spirit
to recognize him who is the glory of Israel
and the light for all nations,
your Son Jesus Christ our Lord.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Christmas Eve at BC House - A Reflection
House of Bread
Luke 2: 1-20 [ text » ]
“When the angels went away from them into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, ‘Let us go now to Bethlehem, and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.”
And so the shepherds came to Bethlehem, to the town whose Hebrew name, Beth-lechem, means “House of Bread.” There was no glorious sight for them to see, no mind-boggling spectacle. No. Hidden away in that House of Bread they saw a baby, a baby less than ordinary, cradled in a poor stable. But, with eyes of faith opened by the word of God made known to them, and with hearts trusting in the God who will redeem his people, they saw, in that baby less than ordinary, the Saviour of the world, come to dwell among them.
And now it us our turn to come to Bethlehem, to come to our Bethlehem, our House of Bread, here, at the Lord’s table. Here again is no glorious sight for us to see, no mind-boggling spectacle. Here is only bread, bread less than ordinary, cradled in our poor hands. But, with eyes of faith opened by the word of God made known to us, and with hearts trusting that God does indeed come and dwell with us, we see, in this bread less than ordinary, the Saviour of the world, come to dwell in us.
Such is God’s love, to give us “heaven in ordinarie,” God the Word-made-flesh made bread for us, to nourish our souls, to inebriate our spirits, to make us alive with God, to build his House of Bread in us, that, as he dwells in us, we might dwell in him. Let us then come to Bethlehem, to God’s House of Bread, and taste and see how gracious the Lord is.
- Fr. Bill Morrison
A Reflection on Christmas Eve, 2009
Still to this day the midnight Christmas Eve service holds a special magic for me. The service has a different feel to it than the earlier ones. Maybe it is because there are fewer people and there seems to be a silent hush over the church. Or that there it seems to be a cold chill in the air with perhaps a dusting of snow outside. Things seem to be clearer, shinier and more beautiful. This time of night seems to really embody that ancient antiphon, for while gentle silence enveloped all things, and night in its swift course was now half gone, your all-powerful word leaped from heaven.
This is the night that the all powerful word leapt from heaven and came to live among us. Tonight is the night that Mary held that shiny and beautiful baby that came to turn the world upside down, to bring fourth a new way of being, a way of shinier, clearer and beautiful living.
To night is the night that reminds us of our common vocation, our vocation given to us by the birth of this child. To live each day with the awe and wonder that Mary must have felt when she held Jesus in her arms. To bring forth the love, warmth and joy that Joseph must have felt standing beside the Manger. To be willing to share, make room and welcome the stranger as the animals did in the stable. To be willing to follow our own stars and be able to see and hear with fresh eyes and hearts like the shepherds who followed the star and saw the greatest gift of all. Sr. Amy, SSJD
Thursday, July 30, 2009
A homily at the noon eucharist
Readings for this day
- Ephesians 4: 1-6 NRSV link »
- Psalm 122 NRSV link »
- John 17: 6a, 15-23 NRSV link »
- Bible Browser Readings at Oremus.org
Grace be unto you and peace from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Between the words spoken and the words heard, may God’s Holy Spirit touch our hearts with love, hope and action. Amen.
Ephesians 4:1 I therefore the prisoner of the Lord beg you to lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.
How many times have we heard these words? A passage read at ordinations, inductions, and Thursdays in the convent when the Sisters pray for Christian unity. It’s very moving to me that every week prayers go up from this chapel for the unity of all Christian people.
Paul and his followers write in powerfully poetic language about this urge, this prayer. Their words are probably drawn from early hymns and liturgies. This letter is a celebration of the community of disciples that is the church. Paul believes that the family of believers was established by God’s eternal purpose through Christ. We the members of Christ’s family are to live in unity with God, with one another, and within ourselves. We do this through the Holy Spirit, the Lord and giver of life. This direction toward unity is where things are tending – the telios – the full union in the life to come.
But Paul has a curious turn of phrase which bothers me: “the prisoner of the Lord”. I mention this because I’ve been thinking about that word off and on. I love the passage – but ‘prisoner’ – that’s too strong for me. What ‘prisoner’ means in Greek and for Paul is the subject of another homily.
What I want to focus on is not the word itself, but my reaction to it. I don’t like it. It’s one of the tensions in my own life – perhaps in yours as well. I understand my loyalty to God in response to God’s love and grace in Christ, but also I want my own freedom. I think my freedom is a gift of God. So I want to belong – I want to be part of it – but describing myself as a prisoner is going too far. I can see myself as yoked – loyal – a disciple – a learner – a member of the body - those words all work, but not prisoner.
As I think about it, there is a tension between my need to belong and my need to be free. We see this tension in ordained and professed life; in married and family life; even in our employment. I want to belong but I don’t want to be chained down. ‘May the circle be unbroken’ but ‘Don’t fence me in’.
As part of my vocational work I use an instrument called the Birkman Method and there are two scores that refer to this tension. One is the ‘acceptance’ score, which is how much I need to belong to other people. The other is the ‘freedom’ score which is how much do I need my own freedom. In my case they’re both very high.
That’s why, as I reflect on it, parish ministry as a priest worked very well for me. On the one hand, I belonged to a bishop and a diocese, and to a community, but I was free to set my own schedule, be my own boss and express my individuality. As I look back now, in many ways I was free to be myself. My current work as a vocational consultant also gives me this freedom. But I also need to belong, and this community is one that gives me that opportunity.
You probably know a thing or two about this. I know people – perhaps you do too - who have not entered into marriage or ordained ministry – I suspect religious life as well – because they thought they would lose themselves instead of finding themselves. Their need for freedom was too great to allow them to belong to a community.
And it seems to me that it is to this tension of opposites that God calls us – to belonging – and yet to individual personhood, worthily magnifying God’s holy name. A phrase from the collect for peace at Morning Prayer in the Book of Common Prayer captures it – ‘whose service is perfect freedom’.
I remember a neighbouring minister in the middle of a conflict in his church telling his board, “I am your servant but you are not my master”.
And so that is the unity Paul is writing about – the unity of this tension – I therefore a prisoner of the Lord – beg you from my own person to live out your own life and vocation worthy of your calling together. Be yourself but take responsibility for the community.
And this is the unity that Jesus prayers for, not that we’re to be taken out of the world but that we’re protected from the evil one. We’re here to share in the glory – the ortho – doxa - of the relationship of personhood in the community of the divine Trinity of love and purpose and energy. From the chains of love comes the invitation to join with Christ and be yoked easily and to lightly carry the burden because that is what it means to be learning to live with Christ and what it means to be me and what it means to belong. There is freedom with responsibility. Personhood and purpose.
I therefore the prisoner of the Lord beg you to lead a life worthy of the calling to which you have been called, with all humility and gentleness, with patience, bearing with one another in love, making every effort to maintain the unity of the Spirit in the bond of peace.
The prisoner of the Lord from the chains of love begs us to take the invitation seriously. Amen.
Notes for a homily preached at the noon Eucharist of the Sisterhood of St. John the Divine - 30 July 2009 by the Rev. Canon Tim Elliott. Tim is an Associate of SSJD. Tim's Website here »
The Rev'd Canon Tim Elliott
July 30, 2009
July 30, 2009
Wednesday, July 29, 2009
Homily for “Q & Pew” at St. John’s York Mills, Toronto
William Wilberforce
William Wilberforce was born in Kingston upon Hull in England in 1759. He was the only son of a wealthy merchant and his wife. He wasn’t always in the best of health and was considered to be fairly sickly as a youth. As a young man at age 17, when his grandfather and an uncle died, he became independently wealthy.
He went up to Cambridge University but because of his wealth, he was little given to study nor apply himself except to the social pursuits of student life. He was seen as witty and generous among the other students with a wonderful speaking and singing voice. He was a popular figure and made many friends including the far more studious William Pitt who was to become the future Prime Minister of England. These two friends used to go to the House of Commons to watch the debates. At the time Pitt was already wanting to pursue a career in politics and convinced Wilberforce to do the same.
Wilberforce won a seat in his home borough of Kingston upon Hull at the age of 21 while still a student at university, in 1780. He sat as an independent, determined not to join either the Whigs or the Tories. but voted according to his conscience. This lead some to believe that he was wishy washy because he would not commit to one party or the other and kept voting with whichever party seemed to present legislation that came closest to his own values. The unifying thread was his conscience and later his strong Christian convictions.
In 1783 his friend Pitt became Prime Minister. Wilberforce was not offered a seat in cabinet by his friend – partly because of his determination to remain an independent, partly because his eyesight wasn’t all that great so he couldn’t read, and partly because he was often late; not prime material for a cabinet position.
In 1784 Wilberforce went on a tour of Europe which changed both his life and his future career in parliament. He began a spiritual journey while there – getting up early to read his bible and to keep a journal – two good solid spiritual practices. Reading the bible and then reflecting on you’ve read is a good way to grow in the spiritual life. Wilberforce had a real conversion experience in his life while in Europe. He resolved to commit his future life and work to the service of God in Jesus Christ. He returned to England and struggled to decide if he should remain in politics as he wasn’t sure that it was in keeping with his new convictions. He sought guidance from an Anglican clergyman, John Newton, the author of the hymn Amazing Grace, who convinced Wilberforce that his gifts and talents could be best used by God in the public sector by remaining in politics. The 2006 movie titled Amazing Grace, told the story of Wilberforce’s fight for the emancipation of the slaves.
Wilberforce began meeting people who were concerned with the slave trade that England had become involved with during the 16th century. They had a triangular route, first taking British made good to Africa to sell and then purchase slaves. The second leg of the journey was to transport the slaves to the West Indies. They were sold for goods in the West Indies which had been produced by slave labour – tobacco, cotton, sugar – which were then transported back to England in the third leg of the journey. The conditions for slaves were horrific on the boats. Out of 11 million Africans transported into slavery, about 1.4 million died during that second leg of the voyage.
British anti-slavery movements started in England in the 1780's. Wilberforce was actively cultivated by a group called the Testonites, because they realized that they needed a voice in parliament. In 1787 he was formally asked by the group to bring forward the abolition of the slave trade in Parliament and Wilberforce agreed.
He was motivated to be involved in the abolition movement by his desire to put his Christian principles and faith into action and to serve God in his public life. It suited the abolitionists well because Wilberforce was a man of conviction who eloquently in the Parliament. Wilberforce began to introduce legislation into Parliament year by year for the abolition of the slave trade. It was thought that by abolishing the slave trade, that is, the transport of slaves, that slavery itself would gradually disappear. It was felt that this would be more palatable to the many British landowners in the West Indies who relied on slave labour for their profits.
Session after session, after more research, more testimonials from former slaves, from clergymen who had seen the conditions and reported, Wilberforce reintroduced his bill into Parliament and pleaded for its passage with persistence and eloquence, only to see it defeated time after time by the tactics of other parliamentarians who were being subsidized by wealthy British West Indian landowners. His persistence finally paid off when his bill was passed in Parliament in 1807 – twenty years after he had started his fight.
Slavery did not diminish with the abolition of the slave trade in the British Empire. Wilberforce now immersed himself in work towards the emancipation of slaves. Through the years of steady work towards emancipation his health began to decline and he withdrew from parliament in 1824. He still made speeches for the abolitionists. His final speech at a public meeting on anti-slavery was saluted by the House of Commons when they introduced a Bill for the Abolition of Slavery. Wilberforce died several days after the introduction of the bill. One month later the bill was passed in the House of Lords which formally abolished slavery in the British Empire as of August 1834.
Wilberforce had been married to Barbara Ann Spooner in 1797 and they had a wonderful happy life together with six children. His family life was very happy and proved to be a good balance for his hard work. Among other things, he was one of the founding members of the Society for the Prevention of the Cruelty of Animals, the world’s first animal welfare organization! Upon his death, he was buried beside his friend William Pitt in Westminster Abbey.
Wilberforce followed his Christian convictions in his life and work. He lived congruently with the passage from Matthew we heard read.
‘When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory. All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats, and he will put the sheep at his right hand and the goats at the left. Then the king will say to those at his right hand, “Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.” Then the righteous will answer him, “Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?” And the king will answer them, “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family,* you did it to me.” (Matthew 25. 31-40)
We too are called to be people of faith like William Wilberforce to redeem the needy from oppression and to work to maintain the cause of those who have no helper. May we so live our lives congruently that what we profess with our lips we take action and persevere as we care for the least in our Lord’s family. Then we too will be welcomed into the kingdom of God.
Collect commemorating William Wilberforce
Let your continual mercy, O Lord,
kindle in your Church the never-failing gift of love,
that, following the example of your servant William Wilberforce,
we may have grace to defend the poor,
and maintain the cause of those who have no helper;
for the sake of him who gave his life for us,
your Son our Saviour Jesus Christ,
who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever. Amen.
Sources
William Wilberforce was born in Kingston upon Hull in England in 1759. He was the only son of a wealthy merchant and his wife. He wasn’t always in the best of health and was considered to be fairly sickly as a youth. As a young man at age 17, when his grandfather and an uncle died, he became independently wealthy.
He went up to Cambridge University but because of his wealth, he was little given to study nor apply himself except to the social pursuits of student life. He was seen as witty and generous among the other students with a wonderful speaking and singing voice. He was a popular figure and made many friends including the far more studious William Pitt who was to become the future Prime Minister of England. These two friends used to go to the House of Commons to watch the debates. At the time Pitt was already wanting to pursue a career in politics and convinced Wilberforce to do the same.
Wilberforce won a seat in his home borough of Kingston upon Hull at the age of 21 while still a student at university, in 1780. He sat as an independent, determined not to join either the Whigs or the Tories. but voted according to his conscience. This lead some to believe that he was wishy washy because he would not commit to one party or the other and kept voting with whichever party seemed to present legislation that came closest to his own values. The unifying thread was his conscience and later his strong Christian convictions.
In 1783 his friend Pitt became Prime Minister. Wilberforce was not offered a seat in cabinet by his friend – partly because of his determination to remain an independent, partly because his eyesight wasn’t all that great so he couldn’t read, and partly because he was often late; not prime material for a cabinet position.
In 1784 Wilberforce went on a tour of Europe which changed both his life and his future career in parliament. He began a spiritual journey while there – getting up early to read his bible and to keep a journal – two good solid spiritual practices. Reading the bible and then reflecting on you’ve read is a good way to grow in the spiritual life. Wilberforce had a real conversion experience in his life while in Europe. He resolved to commit his future life and work to the service of God in Jesus Christ. He returned to England and struggled to decide if he should remain in politics as he wasn’t sure that it was in keeping with his new convictions. He sought guidance from an Anglican clergyman, John Newton, the author of the hymn Amazing Grace, who convinced Wilberforce that his gifts and talents could be best used by God in the public sector by remaining in politics. The 2006 movie titled Amazing Grace, told the story of Wilberforce’s fight for the emancipation of the slaves.
Wilberforce began meeting people who were concerned with the slave trade that England had become involved with during the 16th century. They had a triangular route, first taking British made good to Africa to sell and then purchase slaves. The second leg of the journey was to transport the slaves to the West Indies. They were sold for goods in the West Indies which had been produced by slave labour – tobacco, cotton, sugar – which were then transported back to England in the third leg of the journey. The conditions for slaves were horrific on the boats. Out of 11 million Africans transported into slavery, about 1.4 million died during that second leg of the voyage.
British anti-slavery movements started in England in the 1780's. Wilberforce was actively cultivated by a group called the Testonites, because they realized that they needed a voice in parliament. In 1787 he was formally asked by the group to bring forward the abolition of the slave trade in Parliament and Wilberforce agreed.
He was motivated to be involved in the abolition movement by his desire to put his Christian principles and faith into action and to serve God in his public life. It suited the abolitionists well because Wilberforce was a man of conviction who eloquently in the Parliament. Wilberforce began to introduce legislation into Parliament year by year for the abolition of the slave trade. It was thought that by abolishing the slave trade, that is, the transport of slaves, that slavery itself would gradually disappear. It was felt that this would be more palatable to the many British landowners in the West Indies who relied on slave labour for their profits.
Session after session, after more research, more testimonials from former slaves, from clergymen who had seen the conditions and reported, Wilberforce reintroduced his bill into Parliament and pleaded for its passage with persistence and eloquence, only to see it defeated time after time by the tactics of other parliamentarians who were being subsidized by wealthy British West Indian landowners. His persistence finally paid off when his bill was passed in Parliament in 1807 – twenty years after he had started his fight.
Slavery did not diminish with the abolition of the slave trade in the British Empire. Wilberforce now immersed himself in work towards the emancipation of slaves. Through the years of steady work towards emancipation his health began to decline and he withdrew from parliament in 1824. He still made speeches for the abolitionists. His final speech at a public meeting on anti-slavery was saluted by the House of Commons when they introduced a Bill for the Abolition of Slavery. Wilberforce died several days after the introduction of the bill. One month later the bill was passed in the House of Lords which formally abolished slavery in the British Empire as of August 1834.
Wilberforce had been married to Barbara Ann Spooner in 1797 and they had a wonderful happy life together with six children. His family life was very happy and proved to be a good balance for his hard work. Among other things, he was one of the founding members of the Society for the Prevention of the Cruelty of Animals, the world’s first animal welfare organization! Upon his death, he was buried beside his friend William Pitt in Westminster Abbey.
Wilberforce followed his Christian convictions in his life and work. He lived congruently with the passage from Matthew we heard read.
‘When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory. All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats, and he will put the sheep at his right hand and the goats at the left. Then the king will say to those at his right hand, “Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.” Then the righteous will answer him, “Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?” And the king will answer them, “Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family,* you did it to me.” (Matthew 25. 31-40)
We too are called to be people of faith like William Wilberforce to redeem the needy from oppression and to work to maintain the cause of those who have no helper. May we so live our lives congruently that what we profess with our lips we take action and persevere as we care for the least in our Lord’s family. Then we too will be welcomed into the kingdom of God.
Collect commemorating William Wilberforce
Let your continual mercy, O Lord,
kindle in your Church the never-failing gift of love,
that, following the example of your servant William Wilberforce,
we may have grace to defend the poor,
and maintain the cause of those who have no helper;
for the sake of him who gave his life for us,
your Son our Saviour Jesus Christ,
who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit,
one God, now and for ever. Amen.
Sources
Hochschild, Adam (2005), Bury the Chains, The British Struggle to Abolish Slavery, London: Macmillan, ISBN 978-0330485814, OCLC 60458010
NRSV Bible (New Revised Standard Version) ISBN code: 9780888345646
Wikipedia: William Wilberforce, and John Newton
Homily given by Sr. Elizabeth Ann Eckert, SSJD for the “Q & Pew” at St. John’s York Mills, Toronto [ website »] , on Wednesday 29 July, 2009
Homily given by Sr. Elizabeth Ann Eckert, SSJD for the “Q & Pew” at St. John’s York Mills, Toronto [ website »] , on Wednesday 29 July, 2009
Sunday, July 26, 2009
A homily for Proper 17 Year B
Readings for this day
- 2 Samuel 11.1-15 NRSV link »
- Psalm 14 NRSV link »
- Ephesians 3.14-21 NRSV link »
- John 6.1-21 NRSV link »
In Alice in Wonderland, Alice proclaims to the White Queen, "one can't believe impossible things." And the Queen replies: "I daresay you haven't had much practice. When I was younger, I always did it for half an hour a day. Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast."
I think that sums up perfectly the good news in our readings this morning and the good news we all need to hear in time of great challenge and transition in our church.
All the readings this morning are about seemingly impossible things. In the ongoing saga of David’s kingship over Israel, he deliberately organizes to get Bathsheba’s husband Uriah into the front lines of the battle so that we will be free to have Bathsheba as one of his own wives. Earlier in David’s kingship he had been equally manipulative and immoral in order to win the hand of Abigail as one of his many wives.
What is nearly impossible for me to believe is how and why God chooses someone like David to be king over his chosen people, to be the composer of the beautiful psalms which have been the centre of Judeo-Christian worship for several millenia, and even more important to establish the kingly line which Jesus the Messiah will fulfill. David is a womanizer, a flouter of the law, someone who manipulates others and uses his power for his own ends. He would never make it through the psychiatric and moral screening that candidates for the priesthood have to go through in our church.
So this shows us how God uses even the basest human instincts – lust, jealousy, and power – to further the building of the kingdom.
But David is only one of many people in the Biblical narrative that seem to be the most unlikely leaders. Think of Moses, and Saul, and many others. Virtually all the leaders of the Kingdom (until we come to Jesus) broke God’s law. None of them were what we would consider models of Godly life.
As we move into the New Testament story, we see a similar pattern. Jesus chooses for his disciples a group of men who are rough and ready, uneducated, unrefined, and who might not even be welcome in some congregations of Christians in our city. Peter denied him, Judas betrayed him, and all of them ultimately ran away when the moment of testing came.
There is something about this religion of ours that says to me that the Kingdom of God is different from our expectations of good and efficient government. And there is a lot of good news in that, because so many of us feel unqualified to fulfill a role in the church much less a role in bringing about the kingdom of God. If God could choose such people to work out the plan of salvation, then maybe we aren’t such impossible candidates ourselves!
In Paul’s letter to the Ephesians this morning, we see a different way of measuring the kingdom. It does not come about by human effort or special qualifications, but by being called into a relationship of love with Christ, within the Christian community. We ourselves, in our local communities, are part of the larger kingdom. Paul’s prayer in Ephesians is for us as much as the early Christian community of his time, when he prays that we “may have the power to comprehend the breadth and length and height and depth and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that we may be filled with all the fullness of God.” What an amazing prayer that is. It seems impossible that we should aspire to such joy.
But then Paul uses those inspired and courageous words which we recite at the end of every Eucharist in a slightly different translation. He gives glory to God “who by the power at work within us” – that is, God’s power – “is able to accomplish abundantly far more than all we can ask or imagine.” The impossible becomes possible.
And that power is seen in the two stories we heard in the gospel this morning.
The narrative of the loaves and the fishes was apparently one of the favourite miracles circulated in the early Christian community, because it appears in all four of the gospels – there are actually 6 slightly different versions of the story. John tells us that it takes place near the time of the celebration of the Passover, and it reminds us of some elements of the Passover and the journey in the desert that followed. A little boy provides a few barley loaves and small fishes – this is a seemingly impossible situation – “what are they,” Andrew says, “among so many people?” But Jesus just replies “Make the people sit down.”
Well, you know the rest of the story – everyone has plenty to eat with lots left over. Not unlike the manna which God gave Moses and his people in the wilderness.
And not unlike the Eucharist itself, in which one loaf is divided among many people with – usually – lots left over. In the Orthodox tradition, special bread is blessed at the Eucharist and taken home by parishioners to nourish their families. In our tradition – especially here were we don’t use real bread – the left-overs are more symbolic, and perhaps more powerful for that reason. What is “left over” after the Eucharist is the love which is given to us and which the sacrament signifies – and there is so much of that love that we cannot but take it home with us, out of the walls of the church, into the areas where we live and work and go to school.
Impossible things – small barley loaves and dried fish multiplied to feed thousand of people with plenty left over to share; bread and wine become the body and blood of Christ, nourishing us with the love of Christ to feed thousands more people.
And then there is the storm at sea. Another impossible event – Jesus walking on the water, and the boat landing immediately safe at the other side. That story, too, is told in different versions in all four of the gospels, and again there are 6 different variations. The early recorders of Jesus’ ministry were obviously fascinated with impossible things which, in God’s kingdom and in God’s power, are in fact possible.
We call these impossible things miracles. John calls them “signs.” In other words, the miracle of the loaves and fishes or the calming of the sea are not the most important thing. They are signs of the Kingdom, signals that we are called to go out and build that kingdom and that we are given the tools to do it – most importantly the knowledge of the great love of God for us and within us.
There are many spiritual practices, or disciplines, that we can follow which help us in our Christian life and will help us through this time of great transition. They include daily prayer, coming to the Eucharist to be fed and receive the strength we need, and participating in the life of our local parish or community. We all are aware of these central disciplines of the Christian life, along with many others.
But there is another spiritual practice that may be new to us – and that is to following the advice of the White Queen in Alice in Wonderland and practice believing six impossible things every morning before breakfast – particularly the six we have heard about in the readings this morning – and I’ll just summarize them here:
- God’s criteria for choosing leaders in the kingdom are truly counter-cultural.
- By extension, we who are just ordinary sinners, trying our best to follow Jesus but failing often – we are the people chosen to work out God’s mission here in our neighbourhood.
- God can take the least that we have to offer, and multiply it beyond our imaginings. All of us in this church this morning, with our limitations and fears and reluctance – we already have the gifts we need to reach out to people around us with the good news of Jesus Christ. We just need to believe it.
- After we have offered all we have to God and for God’s purposes, there will be so much love and generosity left over that it will spill out into all our relationships, our jobs, our school life, and our family life.
- God is able to calm the storms of our lives simply by his presence among us – without doing or saying anything.
- And through something so simple – just being aware of God’s presence with us – we are enabled us to do the same for those who are suffering.
All that is required for us to believe these six impossible things is to commit ourselves to growing in love for God – to let our roots go down deep into the soil of God’s marvelous love, as Paul says it, and to stay rooted in the Christian community. The more deeply we know God as our creator, our redeemer and friend and brother, and as the Spirit of life and renewal, and the more deeply we experience that in community, the more we will come to know that we, even we, can be used by God for the building of God’s kingdom.And so as we look to the future of our communities and our church, let us not be overwhelmed or skeptical like Alice, but follow the Queen, and every morning before breakfast practice believing six impossible things.
Glory to God, whose power working in us
can do infinitely more than we can ask or imagine.
Glory to God from generation to generation in the church
and in Christ Jesus for ever and ever.
Sr. Constance Joanna, SSJD
July 26, 2009
July 26, 2009
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
A Homily for the Feast of St. Mary Magdalene
Readings for the day
Today we celebrate the life and witness of Mary Magdalene and of the life and witness of the Sisterhood of St. John the Divine as we continue to celebrate our 125 years of love, prayer and service in the Canadian Church.
What do we know of Mary of Magdala? From the record in the scriptures we know that she was a woman of independent means who came from town of Magdala on the Sea of Galilee. She was healed of seven demons by Jesus and afterwards followed him, and like several other women, supported him out of her own resources. She was there, like the other disciples, throughout most of Jesus’ ministry. She stood with Jesus at the foot of the cross with Mary his mother and John the beloved, when all the other disciples had fled for fear of their own lives.
We also know that on Easter morning she went to the tomb to grieve a close friend. And as she wept, Jesus appeared to her as the resurrected Christ. He chose her to go and tell the other disciples that she had seen him. It was this commission that caused the early church to name her Apostle to the Apostles.
In the gospel reading we just heard it is clear that Mary and Jesus had a close relationship. Not a marital relationship as author Dan Brown would have it in his popular novel Angels and Demons, but intimate none the less and we get a bit of the flavour of that intimacy in their exchange in this gospel passage.
Mary had gone to the tomb before daybreak and found the stone rolled away. She stood outside weeping, perhaps in shock that the stone had been rolled away, but also certainly with a heart full of grief. Then she stooped to look inside. She is startled by two angels who are sitting where the body of Jesus would have lain. They asked her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She replied, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.”
She turned away and saw someone through her tears and grief whom she took to be the gardener. She asked him where they had taken the body of Jesus. He calls her by name, “Mary,” and she instantly recognizes him and responds, “Rabbouni,” that is, “Teacher.” She has responded as a disciple of Jesus, as who learns from their master.
She must have reached out to touch him because he tells her not to touch him, to not hold onto him. There are a number of renaissance paintings that depict this subject – Noli me tangere, that is, do not touch me. In some she is reaching out to him and he reaches out to her but also is slightly turned away from her as if he is showing that he may not linger because he has not yet ascended to the Father. Then he commissions her to go and tell the others that he is risen.
What we don’t find in the scriptures is any specific reference to Mary of Magdala as a prostitute. The Eastern churches have always remembered her as Apostle to the Apostles. But since about the 4th century the Western church has portrayed her as a fallen woman, a prostitute, a sinner whose sexual promiscuity denies her dignity and serves to eliminate her reputation. She is portrayed as an outcast wanton woman who came to Jesus for healing and forgiveness.
Mary is instead a woman of independent means who clearly loved Jesus. Some misconceptions about her probably arose because of her healing from the seven demons which we have come to assume to be sexual sins. They were more likely to be emotional or mental afflictions often attributed to evil spirits or demons in Jesus’ time, not necessarily associated with sinfulness at all. The number seven symbolized that she either had a chronic illness like depression or that her affliction was very severe.
Mary Magdalene who first appears in Luke chapter 8, has been confused with other unnamed women in the Gospels – specifically the unnamed sinner mentioned in chapter seven of Luke who washed Jesus feet with her tears. The same reference is found in Mark Chapter 14 where a woman anointed Jesus feet with costly ointment from an alabaster jar. But these are unnamed women, Mary is named and identified with the city she was from.
It has also been suggested that Mary was named a prostitute to keep other women from claiming their authority or from exercising leadership in the church. Mary had Christ’s special commission and blessing so was seen as a possible threat to the established order.
When Constantine made Christianity the official religion of the Roman empire, the Christian community was caught up in a cultural conflict. Until that time worship had been hidden, because it was illegal, in the homes of the believers where women’s leadership had been accepted. Now, as the sanctioned and official religion of the state, worship moved into public sphere and its leadership needed to conform to the norms of Roman society and government which meant male leadership in the church.
So there was a change in perception in the Western Church in how Mary of Magdala was seen as Apostle to the Apostles, a leader in the church, into a prostitute, a woman of ill repute, one who could be more easily discredited. She was turned into a woman who was in need of repentance and penitence who could now model the hidden silent life for women. Gone was the model of women leadership in the church.
Well I can really resonate with Mary of Magdala in my own life. I’ve been put down and discriminated against. I’ve been called a “bitch” when I’ve shown my anger and passion over a subject when my male counterpart would have been called strong and assertive in the same situation!
These days we have different picture of Mary of Magdala from what we are used to hearing. A strong woman. Someone whom Jesus restored to health in body and mind by casting out seven demons. A woman who witnessed Jesus throughout his ministry and provided for him and the other disciples out of her own resources. She was with him through his death and resurrection. And she was the first one Jesus appeared to as the resurrected Christ and he commissioned her to become the Apostle to the Apostles.
In the epistle we read that “in Christ there is a new creation; everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new.” We can count on everything old in our lives having passed away, all our sins, former bad habits, the things we did when we were younger we wish we hadn’t and wish we could forget. But there are things in our culture and society which also must be made new. Everything must pass away from our former life in Christ Jesus and become new so that like Mary we can be free to carry the good news of Christ Jesus throughout the world.
What can we take from a different understanding of who Mary of Magdala is? We can be thankful that women’s leadership has been more accepted in the some parts of the Anglican Communion and in other denominations. But more still needs to be done. We can also be thankful that there are other clear models of women’s leadership in the Canadian Church such as the Sisters in the Sisterhood of St. John the Divine (SSJD). We have been blessed by so many strong women in SSJD throughout our 125 year history.
SSJD was pioneering in women’s healthcare setting up the country’s first surgical hospital for women in 1885 in Toronto. We have had other work specifically with women in the past including work with women in Edmonton and young unmarried mothers. We’ve also had Sisters who have used their gifts of creativity in writing and so we’ve got our inclusive language psalter & daily office binder. There is a continuing history of advocacy and work for the equality and inclusion of women by the Sisters in the SSJD.
Several days ago we heard the presiding celebrant preach on the 40th anniversary of the landing on the moon. I was struck as he spoke that there was a Sister in chapel who hadn’t been born when the moon landing happened. Some women today are growing up in a world where there is more equality and less discrimination against them because of our efforts. I belonged to a woman’s group when I was in high school. I worked in a non-traditional job to pave the way for others. Along with another woman classmate we were hired as the first women in the Ministry of Natural Resources in Dryden in forestry. We worked hard because we had to prove ourselves. The next year I was partnered with another classmate, a male colleague who had to ask me to slow down because I went too fast for him to keep up! I’ve lived through some things to make it possible for those who come after me.
A renewed understanding of Mary Magdalene as Apostle to the Apostles, as a model for women’s leadership, also leads us to prayer and advocacy for those women and girls throughout the world who are still put down, kept uneducated, abused, maligned, discriminated against. We must address false systems and cultures that exclude the leadership of women because it is pervasive and insidious. In the culture of the First Nations peoples in Canada, although formerly mostly a matriarchal society, and although there are still about 1/5th of the over 600 chiefs who are women, there are none running in the election for National Chief at present. We must continue to hold up women for leadership and strive for equality with men in our own country.
May there be a time when women will not know the inequality, discrimination, and maligned reputations like Mary Magdalene and many of us have had to live through and fight against for the sake of those who will come after us. Pray and look for opportunities to uphold women’s leadership in your own lives and give thanks today for Mary Magdalene who loved our Lord and became the Apostle to the Apostles. Amen.
Sr. Elizabeth Ann, SSJD
July 22, 2009
Today we celebrate the life and witness of Mary Magdalene and of the life and witness of the Sisterhood of St. John the Divine as we continue to celebrate our 125 years of love, prayer and service in the Canadian Church.
What do we know of Mary of Magdala? From the record in the scriptures we know that she was a woman of independent means who came from town of Magdala on the Sea of Galilee. She was healed of seven demons by Jesus and afterwards followed him, and like several other women, supported him out of her own resources. She was there, like the other disciples, throughout most of Jesus’ ministry. She stood with Jesus at the foot of the cross with Mary his mother and John the beloved, when all the other disciples had fled for fear of their own lives.
We also know that on Easter morning she went to the tomb to grieve a close friend. And as she wept, Jesus appeared to her as the resurrected Christ. He chose her to go and tell the other disciples that she had seen him. It was this commission that caused the early church to name her Apostle to the Apostles.
In the gospel reading we just heard it is clear that Mary and Jesus had a close relationship. Not a marital relationship as author Dan Brown would have it in his popular novel Angels and Demons, but intimate none the less and we get a bit of the flavour of that intimacy in their exchange in this gospel passage.
Mary had gone to the tomb before daybreak and found the stone rolled away. She stood outside weeping, perhaps in shock that the stone had been rolled away, but also certainly with a heart full of grief. Then she stooped to look inside. She is startled by two angels who are sitting where the body of Jesus would have lain. They asked her, “Woman, why are you weeping?” She replied, “They have taken away my Lord, and I do not know where they have laid him.”
She turned away and saw someone through her tears and grief whom she took to be the gardener. She asked him where they had taken the body of Jesus. He calls her by name, “Mary,” and she instantly recognizes him and responds, “Rabbouni,” that is, “Teacher.” She has responded as a disciple of Jesus, as who learns from their master.
She must have reached out to touch him because he tells her not to touch him, to not hold onto him. There are a number of renaissance paintings that depict this subject – Noli me tangere, that is, do not touch me. In some she is reaching out to him and he reaches out to her but also is slightly turned away from her as if he is showing that he may not linger because he has not yet ascended to the Father. Then he commissions her to go and tell the others that he is risen.
What we don’t find in the scriptures is any specific reference to Mary of Magdala as a prostitute. The Eastern churches have always remembered her as Apostle to the Apostles. But since about the 4th century the Western church has portrayed her as a fallen woman, a prostitute, a sinner whose sexual promiscuity denies her dignity and serves to eliminate her reputation. She is portrayed as an outcast wanton woman who came to Jesus for healing and forgiveness.
Mary is instead a woman of independent means who clearly loved Jesus. Some misconceptions about her probably arose because of her healing from the seven demons which we have come to assume to be sexual sins. They were more likely to be emotional or mental afflictions often attributed to evil spirits or demons in Jesus’ time, not necessarily associated with sinfulness at all. The number seven symbolized that she either had a chronic illness like depression or that her affliction was very severe.
Mary Magdalene who first appears in Luke chapter 8, has been confused with other unnamed women in the Gospels – specifically the unnamed sinner mentioned in chapter seven of Luke who washed Jesus feet with her tears. The same reference is found in Mark Chapter 14 where a woman anointed Jesus feet with costly ointment from an alabaster jar. But these are unnamed women, Mary is named and identified with the city she was from.
It has also been suggested that Mary was named a prostitute to keep other women from claiming their authority or from exercising leadership in the church. Mary had Christ’s special commission and blessing so was seen as a possible threat to the established order.
When Constantine made Christianity the official religion of the Roman empire, the Christian community was caught up in a cultural conflict. Until that time worship had been hidden, because it was illegal, in the homes of the believers where women’s leadership had been accepted. Now, as the sanctioned and official religion of the state, worship moved into public sphere and its leadership needed to conform to the norms of Roman society and government which meant male leadership in the church.
So there was a change in perception in the Western Church in how Mary of Magdala was seen as Apostle to the Apostles, a leader in the church, into a prostitute, a woman of ill repute, one who could be more easily discredited. She was turned into a woman who was in need of repentance and penitence who could now model the hidden silent life for women. Gone was the model of women leadership in the church.
Well I can really resonate with Mary of Magdala in my own life. I’ve been put down and discriminated against. I’ve been called a “bitch” when I’ve shown my anger and passion over a subject when my male counterpart would have been called strong and assertive in the same situation!
These days we have different picture of Mary of Magdala from what we are used to hearing. A strong woman. Someone whom Jesus restored to health in body and mind by casting out seven demons. A woman who witnessed Jesus throughout his ministry and provided for him and the other disciples out of her own resources. She was with him through his death and resurrection. And she was the first one Jesus appeared to as the resurrected Christ and he commissioned her to become the Apostle to the Apostles.
In the epistle we read that “in Christ there is a new creation; everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new.” We can count on everything old in our lives having passed away, all our sins, former bad habits, the things we did when we were younger we wish we hadn’t and wish we could forget. But there are things in our culture and society which also must be made new. Everything must pass away from our former life in Christ Jesus and become new so that like Mary we can be free to carry the good news of Christ Jesus throughout the world.
What can we take from a different understanding of who Mary of Magdala is? We can be thankful that women’s leadership has been more accepted in the some parts of the Anglican Communion and in other denominations. But more still needs to be done. We can also be thankful that there are other clear models of women’s leadership in the Canadian Church such as the Sisters in the Sisterhood of St. John the Divine (SSJD). We have been blessed by so many strong women in SSJD throughout our 125 year history.
SSJD was pioneering in women’s healthcare setting up the country’s first surgical hospital for women in 1885 in Toronto. We have had other work specifically with women in the past including work with women in Edmonton and young unmarried mothers. We’ve also had Sisters who have used their gifts of creativity in writing and so we’ve got our inclusive language psalter & daily office binder. There is a continuing history of advocacy and work for the equality and inclusion of women by the Sisters in the SSJD.
Several days ago we heard the presiding celebrant preach on the 40th anniversary of the landing on the moon. I was struck as he spoke that there was a Sister in chapel who hadn’t been born when the moon landing happened. Some women today are growing up in a world where there is more equality and less discrimination against them because of our efforts. I belonged to a woman’s group when I was in high school. I worked in a non-traditional job to pave the way for others. Along with another woman classmate we were hired as the first women in the Ministry of Natural Resources in Dryden in forestry. We worked hard because we had to prove ourselves. The next year I was partnered with another classmate, a male colleague who had to ask me to slow down because I went too fast for him to keep up! I’ve lived through some things to make it possible for those who come after me.
A renewed understanding of Mary Magdalene as Apostle to the Apostles, as a model for women’s leadership, also leads us to prayer and advocacy for those women and girls throughout the world who are still put down, kept uneducated, abused, maligned, discriminated against. We must address false systems and cultures that exclude the leadership of women because it is pervasive and insidious. In the culture of the First Nations peoples in Canada, although formerly mostly a matriarchal society, and although there are still about 1/5th of the over 600 chiefs who are women, there are none running in the election for National Chief at present. We must continue to hold up women for leadership and strive for equality with men in our own country.
Sr. Elizabeth Ann, SSJD
July 22, 2009
Selected resources
- Mary Magdalene: A Case of Mistaken Identity - This article by Lalor Cadley Ferrari provides background information about Mary Magdalene's mistaken reputation as a prostitute. http://www.smp.org/voices/resources/
- Mary of Magdala– Apostle to the Apostles: Resources for celebrating women’s leadership in the church. http://www.futurechurch.org/marym/
Sunday, April 12, 2009
FEAST OF THE RESURRECTION Easter Day - April 12, 2009
Sr. Constance Joanna, SSJD
Romans 6.3-11 - Psalm 114 - Mark 16.1-8
CHRIST IS RISEN, ALLELUIA! HE IS RISEN INDEED, ALLELUIA!
Today we celebrate the Resurrection of Christ – the climax of the Incarnation.
The incarnation you say? I thought that happened at Christmas! But the Incarnation encompasses the whole of the gospel narrative, which taken together begins while Jesus is still in Mary’s womb, and does not end until the Ascension.
In fact, we can go even further and say that the Incarnation begins in the heart of God at the creation of the world, and does not reach its completion until the second coming of Christ, with the fulfilment of God’s purpose. That is why, at the Easter Vigil, we begin our readings with the creation story from Genesis and end with the glorious prophecy from Zephaniah about the final gathering together of God’s people.
At the climax of all those readings we encounter the gospel – the high point of our celebration and the climax of the mystery of the Incarnation.
However, Mark’s account of the resurrection of Jesus seems like a distinct anti-climax. Mary Magdalene and the other women run away and say nothing. It does not seem to convey the power and joy and enthusiasm that we like to associate with Easter. Instead, it sounds more like the spiritual experiences of many of us, or of most of us at one time or another – full of fear and doubt and confusion.
The women had gone to the tomb to anoint Jesus’ body, and on their way asked each other, “who will roll away the stone from the tomb for us?” They are worried – they have a service to perform for Jesus, both required by Jewish burial custom and even more important, an act of love for this man who had been both an intimate friend and a spiritual leader. And they don’t know how they’re going to do it.
Well, as we often do, they have worried for nothing. The stone is already rolled away. They have asked, “how will we ever accomplish this?” and they find it is done for them. This in itself would have unsettled them. But then when they see a young man, dressed in a white robe, sitting in the tomb, they would have been not only confused, but terrified – or as Mark puts it in his typically understated way, “alarmed.”
“Don’t be alarmed,” he says. “Don’t be afraid,” the angel said to Mary when she was told she was going to bear the Messiah. “Don’t be afraid,” the angel said to Joseph when he heard that Mary was going to have a baby. “Don’t let your hearts be troubled or afraid,” Jesus said to the disciples.
How many times have you heard someone say to you, “don’t be afraid”? In the psychologically sophisticated culture we live in, we might be prone to say, “Don’t tell me not to feel my feelings,” or “Don’t tell me there is something wrong with my feeling afraid. I’m afraid, period.” And this is often valid.
Jesus never belittled or discounted peoples’ feelings. But he did challenge them; he often challenged the false thinking that leads to fear. That is what the angel is doing here. “Don’t be afraid,” he says, “there is truth here you don’t know yet – he has been raised . . . and he is going ahead of you to Galilee, and you will see him there.”
However, instead of joyfully running to tell the disciples what they have discovered, Mark tells us, “they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.”
Happily for us, this is not the end of the story. As Mark himself and the other gospel writers tell us, the women and the other disciples do meet Jesus, in a number of ways and circumstances over the next weeks. Their encounters with Jesus are so powerful, and so compelling, that they could not stop telling the story. And so the Christian church is born.
The experience of the women is a lot like our own lives. We are so often clueless about what is really going on, not seeing the truth, overcome with fear and uncertainty. And then there are other times when we have clarity and confidence in God, ourselves, our sense of mission in the world. For each of us, this may differ from year to year, from season to season of our lives.
But the liturgical year is not always in synch with our personal rhythms. Right now some among us may be experiencing the joy of Easter, a sense of renewed hope and creative expectations. “Alleluia! Christ is risen!” may be just exactly what you feel like saying.
Others may be experiencing a great grief, or illness or unhappiness, and no amount of saying “Christ is risen” is going to make you feel better today. But the resurrection is about more than feelings, more than our current situations.
The promise of the resurrection is that in the body of Christ, the Christian community, we care for each other, mourn together, and rejoice together. If the resurrection means anything, it means that Christ lives in each one of us, and that we are called to be Christ for each other. Together we can remove obstacles for each other, and walk with each other through the darkness until we come to our moment of light and life.
Paul says in the letter to the Romans: “If we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his.” And this union with Christ takes place within the body of Christ itself. It is the whole body that suffers with Jesus through his passion, and it is the whole body of Christ that celebrates his resurrection. We don’t each do it on our own.
And that is the significance of that great hymn, the Exultet, which was sung this morning. It is the church, indeed the whole creation and the very cosmos, which celebrates the resurrection of Christ. You personally, at this moment, may not feel resurrected. You may be going through your own passion. But the body of Christ is celebrating the truth of the Resurrection, which in turn gives hope to each one who cannot experience personal resurrection at this time.
And so we are called to be messengers – angels of life, proclaiming what the angel said to the three women: “I know he is raised. You may not know yet. But in saying ‘Don’t be afraid,’ I am saying to you, ‘this is the truth, and some day you will know too.’”
And some day you will be the angel in the tomb, proclaiming to someone else, “He has risen, and has gone ahead of you to Galilee. There you will see him, just as he told you.”
– Sr. Constance Joanna, SSJD
Romans 6.3-11 - Psalm 114 - Mark 16.1-8
CHRIST IS RISEN, ALLELUIA! HE IS RISEN INDEED, ALLELUIA!Today we celebrate the Resurrection of Christ – the climax of the Incarnation.
The incarnation you say? I thought that happened at Christmas! But the Incarnation encompasses the whole of the gospel narrative, which taken together begins while Jesus is still in Mary’s womb, and does not end until the Ascension.
In fact, we can go even further and say that the Incarnation begins in the heart of God at the creation of the world, and does not reach its completion until the second coming of Christ, with the fulfilment of God’s purpose. That is why, at the Easter Vigil, we begin our readings with the creation story from Genesis and end with the glorious prophecy from Zephaniah about the final gathering together of God’s people.
At the climax of all those readings we encounter the gospel – the high point of our celebration and the climax of the mystery of the Incarnation.
However, Mark’s account of the resurrection of Jesus seems like a distinct anti-climax. Mary Magdalene and the other women run away and say nothing. It does not seem to convey the power and joy and enthusiasm that we like to associate with Easter. Instead, it sounds more like the spiritual experiences of many of us, or of most of us at one time or another – full of fear and doubt and confusion.
The women had gone to the tomb to anoint Jesus’ body, and on their way asked each other, “who will roll away the stone from the tomb for us?” They are worried – they have a service to perform for Jesus, both required by Jewish burial custom and even more important, an act of love for this man who had been both an intimate friend and a spiritual leader. And they don’t know how they’re going to do it.
Well, as we often do, they have worried for nothing. The stone is already rolled away. They have asked, “how will we ever accomplish this?” and they find it is done for them. This in itself would have unsettled them. But then when they see a young man, dressed in a white robe, sitting in the tomb, they would have been not only confused, but terrified – or as Mark puts it in his typically understated way, “alarmed.”
“Don’t be alarmed,” he says. “Don’t be afraid,” the angel said to Mary when she was told she was going to bear the Messiah. “Don’t be afraid,” the angel said to Joseph when he heard that Mary was going to have a baby. “Don’t let your hearts be troubled or afraid,” Jesus said to the disciples.
How many times have you heard someone say to you, “don’t be afraid”? In the psychologically sophisticated culture we live in, we might be prone to say, “Don’t tell me not to feel my feelings,” or “Don’t tell me there is something wrong with my feeling afraid. I’m afraid, period.” And this is often valid.
Jesus never belittled or discounted peoples’ feelings. But he did challenge them; he often challenged the false thinking that leads to fear. That is what the angel is doing here. “Don’t be afraid,” he says, “there is truth here you don’t know yet – he has been raised . . . and he is going ahead of you to Galilee, and you will see him there.”
However, instead of joyfully running to tell the disciples what they have discovered, Mark tells us, “they went out and fled from the tomb, for terror and amazement had seized them; and they said nothing to anyone, for they were afraid.”
Happily for us, this is not the end of the story. As Mark himself and the other gospel writers tell us, the women and the other disciples do meet Jesus, in a number of ways and circumstances over the next weeks. Their encounters with Jesus are so powerful, and so compelling, that they could not stop telling the story. And so the Christian church is born.
The experience of the women is a lot like our own lives. We are so often clueless about what is really going on, not seeing the truth, overcome with fear and uncertainty. And then there are other times when we have clarity and confidence in God, ourselves, our sense of mission in the world. For each of us, this may differ from year to year, from season to season of our lives.
But the liturgical year is not always in synch with our personal rhythms. Right now some among us may be experiencing the joy of Easter, a sense of renewed hope and creative expectations. “Alleluia! Christ is risen!” may be just exactly what you feel like saying.
Others may be experiencing a great grief, or illness or unhappiness, and no amount of saying “Christ is risen” is going to make you feel better today. But the resurrection is about more than feelings, more than our current situations.
The promise of the resurrection is that in the body of Christ, the Christian community, we care for each other, mourn together, and rejoice together. If the resurrection means anything, it means that Christ lives in each one of us, and that we are called to be Christ for each other. Together we can remove obstacles for each other, and walk with each other through the darkness until we come to our moment of light and life.
Paul says in the letter to the Romans: “If we have been united with him in a death like his, we will certainly be united with him in a resurrection like his.” And this union with Christ takes place within the body of Christ itself. It is the whole body that suffers with Jesus through his passion, and it is the whole body of Christ that celebrates his resurrection. We don’t each do it on our own.
And that is the significance of that great hymn, the Exultet, which was sung this morning. It is the church, indeed the whole creation and the very cosmos, which celebrates the resurrection of Christ. You personally, at this moment, may not feel resurrected. You may be going through your own passion. But the body of Christ is celebrating the truth of the Resurrection, which in turn gives hope to each one who cannot experience personal resurrection at this time.And so we are called to be messengers – angels of life, proclaiming what the angel said to the three women: “I know he is raised. You may not know yet. But in saying ‘Don’t be afraid,’ I am saying to you, ‘this is the truth, and some day you will know too.’”
And some day you will be the angel in the tomb, proclaiming to someone else, “He has risen, and has gone ahead of you to Galilee. There you will see him, just as he told you.”
– Sr. Constance Joanna, SSJD
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