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

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


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
 
For All the Saints: Prayers and Readings for Saints' Days, Revised by Stephen Reynolds (Compiler) Item No: 9781551265025 Augsburg Fortress Press

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

Sunday, July 26, 2009

A homily for Proper 17 Year B


Readings for this day
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:
  1. God’s criteria for choosing leaders in the kingdom are truly counter-cultural.
  2. 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.
  3. 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.
  4. 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.
  5. God is able to calm the storms of our lives simply by his presence among us – without doing or saying anything.
  6. 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

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




Selected resources

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

Sunday, March 22, 2009

Lenten Musings: The Fourth Sunday in Lent, 2009

Readings of the day
Today’s gospel contains perhaps the most famous of all verses in the Bible: “For God so loved the world that he gave his only Son, so that everyone who believes in him may not perish but may have eternal life” (v. 16). In the Methodist Sunday school in which I grew up, we used to memorize scripture verses, and I’m sure that this was the very first one I learned.

In my young adulthood I left the church and went on pilgrimage looking for God. During that time, John 3.16 was the one verse I always remembered and could quote exactly. It crept in and out of my conscious mind during those somewhat arid years when my intellectual life was blossoming and my spiritual life was languishing.

During that time, I also remember vividly the musical setting of “God so loved the world” from Stainer’s Crucifixion, which our Methodist choir sang every year on Good Friday. I could remember almost exactly the style in which we were taught to sing it. I knew all the crescendos and decrescendos, the changes in tempo, the attention to the words. I could sing the whole thing for you right now, even though I haven’t heard Stainer’s music in years. It haunted me, it pulled at my heartstrings. God so loved the world – God loved the world so much – it was like an unconscious mantra that kept me connected at some subliminal level, to the Good News I had grown up with.

But I didn’t understand it. Why would God’s love for us cause God to send his son to die?






I found an answer to that question not through studying theology but through reading poetry – especially that of George Herbert, the 17th century Angican priest and poet. In poems like “Love bade me welcome,” Herbert’s passionate love for God touched me deeply, and I began to grasp the depth of that divine love – a love which would go so far as to die for the world.

Another experience affected me deeply while I was still a seeker. As a young woman living in Minneapolis, I joined the choir of St. Mark’s Cathedral, where the choirmaster believed passionately that the function of music and liturgy was to lead people to God. It was hard not to get hooked. And one Sunday, I heard something quite remarkable in a sermon. The preacher said that seekers of God outside the church were like people who try to appreciate stained glass art from the back side. One can see the beauty of stained glass, he said, only from inside the church, when the light is streaming through it. Likewise, one can understand the church only by being welcomed into the fellowship of the body of Christ.

That was the point of conversion for me – conversion in terms of turning around. I started looking for the stained glass from inside. And I began to see that the central message of the Christian faith is about love and passion – the love of God and the passion of Christ, yes – but it is also about the love and passion of our response to that good news.

All through scripture we see examples of this generosity of God, in response to human sin. Time after time, human beings wander away from God, and God intervenes. One example is mentioned at the beginning of the gospel for the fourth Sunday in Lent:

Just as Moses lifted up the serpent in the wilderness, so must the Son of Man be lifted up, that whoever believes in him may have eternal life.

The reference is to the incident from the book of Numbers when the Israelites get sick of eating manna in the desert, and are ready to go back to Egypt. God sends poisonous snakes to punish them for their complaining, and then instructs Moses to make an antidote to the poison – a bronze snake on a pole. When the Israelites look on the bronze snake, they are healed. Now this practice is condemned elsewhere in the Hebrew scriptures as idolatry. Here, however, it can be seen as a kind of homeopathic medicine, where the disease is cured by the very thing that caused the illness. With a difference, however. The serpents, who crawled on the ground, were the punishment, the result of Israel’s turning away from God. The cure was to look up rather than down to the ground, to see the bronze serpent as a sign of God’s healing – and so they found life in the very source of death.

The Greek word translated “lifted up” means both to physically raise, and also to exalt, reminding us that Jesus’ crucifixion is also the climax of his earthly kingship. The passage from Ephesians underlines this double meaning when it refers to us being raised with Jesus.

But God, who is rich in mercy, out of the great love with which he loved us even when we were dead through our trespasses, made us alive together with Christ - by grace you have been saved – and raised us up with him.

In comparing Jesus to this image of a bronze serpent, John also underlines his absolute conviction that Jesus is in fact God, whose self-giving love led to the crucifixion and beyond it to the resurrection and ascension – the final “lifting up.” As in the homeopathic principle, Jesus’ death destroyed death forever.

So the reason for Jesus’ passion and death is to bring us to life and to health. And what is the motive? Why does God go to all this pain and trouble? The motive is, of course, love: “God so loved the world . . .” It is pure grace, pure gift, as Paul tells us. God created the world in love; the risen Christ among us calls each of us into a relationship of love, with each other and especially with God; and in that love Christ sends us into the world as his body, to minister to his brothers and sisters – our brothers and sisters.

But the tragedy is that Christ’s body, his church, sometimes acts as if God sent the son to the church and not to the world. And then we, the church, forget that we are saved by the pure grace of God, the pure gift of God’s self-giving love in the passion of Christ. When that happens, the church (that is, we) can undermine the pure gift of God’s love.

We try to set boundaries, to judge, and to insist that people fulfill our expectations and agree with our theology and our standards in order to be welcomed into the body of Christ. And we expend a lot more energy on dealing with our internal conflicts than we do on the mission which God calls us to on behalf of the world.

But Paul says, “by grace you are saved.” Not by meeting the standards of a particular church or group within the church, but by accepting the saving love of Christ.

And how do we accept it? By experiencing, it of course, and for most people, the strongest experience of Christ’s love is mediated through those people he calls his body. If people in the world do not find the love of God in the friendship and acceptance and affirmation and support of those in the church, where are they going to experience that love? I found it in a choir, and in people doing liturgy together in a way that said to me, we know the love of God and want to share it. Others find it in other ways in the church.

And once we have found it, we accept our baptismal mission: to be the body of Christ, to be Christ in the world.

So instead of succumbing to the temptation to think that God sent his only son for the sake of the church, we might paraphrase John 3.16-17 this way: “God so loved the world that he sent the church into the world, not to condemn the world, but that the world, through his body, might be saved.” God loved the world so much that he sent you and you and you and me to be Christ’s body, to bring that amazing grace of God’s free love to the world God created.
May God bless each of you as you journey through Lent toward Easter. May God give you the grace to share the suffering of his world that you might also be an instrument of resurrection life in his world


Homily for the Fourth Sunday in Lent, 22 March, 2009
Sr. Constance Joanna, SSJD

Sisterhood of St. John the Divine
A religious community within the Anglican Church of Canada
www.ssjd.ca

Sunday, March 15, 2009

Lenten Musings: The Third Sunday in Lent, 2009

Wind blows in billows
around vast thrones
of limestone,
etching patterns
into a surface that
seems impervious,
impenetrable;
yet, over eons
hollows form, then caves and
arches,
and the rock echoes
in silence.

Rain falls in ribbons
upon vast thrones
of limestone,
infiltrating
infinitesimal
pores between
molecules of the
rock, emerges
years and yards
below
and the rock weeps
in loveliness.


 
Spirit pours invisible
around vast thrones
of limestone,
emanating
from bare essence
of earth, skeletal
universe set out for those
with inner eyes to see
what God has wrought in
desert,
and the rock shouts
in exultation.

A poem by Sr. Sue, SSJD
The Third Sunday in Lent - 15 March, 2009

Sisterhood of St. John the Divine, Toronto - website » 

Sunday, March 8, 2009

Lenten Musings: The Second Sunday in Lent, 2009



Once I lived
in a world of
rock,
bed-rock,
solid rock.
Blocks of rock
formed the borders
of my world,
square rocks,
round rocks,
rough rocks,
smooth rocks.
Domes of rock and thrones of rock,
limestone, sandstone,
granite and basalt -
rocks formed
the centre
of my world -
centre, edges, all around
was rock,
bed-rock, solid rock, trusty rock:
you can depend on rock.
It's good stuff!


Once I lived
in a world of
green -
of green and
brown and
flowery hues.
Grasses and bushes filled my world,
reeds and flowers,
and tall leafed
trees,
lavender spikes
bright red sprouts;
deep rich
soil with
worms and mites;
lush green life
set firmly
on earth,
growing, dying
decaying, nurturing,
cycle of life,
set firm
in the deep
bed-rock.
You can trust in
green!
It's good stuff!


Now I live
in a world of
sand,
trickling sand,
blowing sand,
rocks eroded,
blocks all gone.
Sandstone crumbles
at a touch,
granite shatters
at a glance,
limestone leaches,
basalt breaks
and all that
is left is
blowing sand.
Plants cannot grow
on blowing sand;
I cannot stand
on blowing sand.
All that is solid,
all that is sure,
blows in the sunset,
blows in the air;
Can you depend on sand?
Is this good stuff? 


A poem by Sr. Sue, SSJD
Footprints in the sand  photo by the Rev. Jim Doss
March 8, 2009 - The Second Sunday in Lent


Sisterhood of St. John the Divine, Toronto - website » 


Sunday, March 1, 2009

Lenten Musings: The First Sunday in Lent, 2009


In the name of God who created us, who redeemed us, and who sanctifies us. Amen.

This is the first Sunday of Lent. A time when we recall those 40 days that Jesus spent in the wilderness fasting and prayer. After those 40 days, Jesus is tempted by the Tempter, the Evil One. In his weakened state, Jesus still overcomes temptation and show us his tremendous focus on his mission in the world, which was and still is, to show us just how very much God loves us.

Nothing could come between Jesus and his sense of mission. This would become a habitual way of Jesus’ living. Jesus would not be put off his mission to show us God’s love even for consideration of his own personal safety or even for other practical reasons.

After his 40 day fast, the gospel tells us that Jesus was famished. I imagine that he was terribly weak as well. His first temptation is to turn stones into bread, to take something which God had created just to be and turn it into something totally different just to satisfy a need. This would have been going against God’s will who created the stones in the first place, just to be stones. So Jesus replies to the Evil One, that the “word” of God is the chief nourishment. We live the way God created us and know God’s love for us there, in whatever situation or circumstance we find ourselves, in weakness or strength.

Next Jesus is taken to the pinnacle of the temple which overlooks the Kidron Valley - the highest point of the temple. The Evil One tells Jesus to demonstrate to all that Jesus is God’s Son by throwing himself off the temple for all to see, trusting in God’s protection. Every one would have seen this demonstration and know Jesus’ divine nature.



But Jesus refuses to test God’s protection and to unnecessarily risk his life which would then make a mockery of his real martyrdom, of his sacrifice on the cross which was to come which was the real demonstration of trust in God’s love for us and of Jesus own love for us.

Finally the Evil One, the Devil, invites Jesus to prefer personal wealth and power, to choose strength over what the world regards as weakness when we are poor and needy, weak and powerless. Jesus again demonstrates how focused he is on his own sense of mission to show us how much God loves us, and how God’s power is shown in our weakness, when he says in reply . . .

Worship the Lord your God
and serve only him.

Our worship is our response to God’s tremendous love for us. God’s love has come to us first, not because we are good, not because we are sinless, not because we are powerful, but God loves us just as we are.

Jesus refusal to let anything come ahead of his sense of mission, of his sense of the love of God for us, of his own love for us, was to become a habitual way of life for Jesus. This habitual way of living, of demonstrating that God's power is shown in our weakness, had its ultimate fulfillment in his death on the cross leading to his resurrection and ascension into glory. Jesus has given us a model to live our lives within the ordinary circumstances and situations in which we find ourselves, and to let God’s power and love manifest itself through our weakness. Amen.

A reflection by Sr. Elizabeth Ann, SSJD
Lenten Musings: March 1, 2009 - First Sunday in Lent

Lenten Musings

In the name of God who created us, who redeemed us, and who sanctifies us. Amen.

This is the first Sunday of Lent. A time when we recall those 40 days that Jesus spent in the wilderness fasting and prayer. After those 40 days, Jesus is tempted by the Tempter, the Evil One. In his weakened state, Jesus still overcomes temptation and show us his tremendous focus on his mission in the world, which was and still is, to show us just how very much God loves us.

Nothing could come between Jesus and his sense of mission. This would become a habitual way of Jesus’ living. Jesus would not be put off his mission to show us God’s love even for consideration of his own personal safety or even for other practical reasons.

After his 40 day fast, the gospel tells us that Jesus was famished. I imagine that he was terribly weak as well. His first temptation is to turn stones into bread, to take something which God had created just to be and turn it into something totally different just to satisfy a need. This would have been going against God’s will who created the stones in the first place, just to be stones. So Jesus replies to the Evil One, that the “word” of God is the chief nourishment. We live the way God created us and know God’s love for us there, in whatever situation or circumstance we find ourselves, in weakness or strength.
Next Jesus is taken to the pinnacle of the temple which overlooks the Kidron Valley - the highest point of the temple. The Evil One tells Jesus to demonstrate to all that Jesus is God’s Son by throwing himself off the temple for all to see, trusting in God’s protection. Every one would have seen this demonstration and know Jesus’ divine nature.

But Jesus refuses to test God’s protection and to unnecessarily risk his life which would then make a mockery of his real martyrdom, of his sacrifice on the cross which was to come which was the real demonstration of trust in God’s love for us and of Jesus own love for us.

Finally the Evil One, the Devil, invites Jesus to prefer personal wealth and power, to choose strength over what the world regards as weakness when we are poor and needy, weak and powerless. Jesus again demonstrates how focused he is on his own sense of mission to show us how much God loves us, and how God’s power is shown in our weakness, when he says in reply . . . “Worship the Lord your God and serve only him.”

Our worship is our response to God’s tremendous love for us. God’s love has come to us first, not because we are good, not because we are sinless, not because we are powerful, but God loves us just as we are.

Jesus refusal to let anything come ahead of his sense of mission, of his sense of the love of God for us, of his own love for us, was to become a habitual way of life for Jesus. This habitual way of living, of demonstrating that God’s power is shown in our weakness, had its ultimate fulfillment in his death on the cross leading to his resurrection and ascension into glory. Jesus has given us a model to live our lives within the ordinary circumstances and situations in which we find ourselves, and to let God’s power and love manifest itself through our weakness. Amen.

Sr. Elizabeth Ann SSJD
Lenten Musings at http://www.ssjd.ca
1 March 2009