The homily preached on Last Sunday of the Epiphany (propers for the Transfiguration) by the Reverend Andrea Budgey

We all, I think, know what it's like to see or hear a familiar person in an unfamiliar context. For most children, seeing a parent at work for the first time, or in some other public context, can be deeply unsettling – all of a sudden, that parent belongs to other people as well. Seeing a friend perform, if it's done well, and with integrity and conviction, can have a similar effect, and of course, for a parent, seeing a child as an autonomous adult and grasping that development fully for the first time, can be both deeply moving and a little disturbing. All these realisations compel us to see people in a new way, to recognise that our own relationships with them are not what defines them, and to renegotiate – even if in subtle ways – how we interact with them henceforward. We enter into a process of transformation.

These are challenges on the scale of ordinary human interactions. I think what we're meant to see, in Matthew's account of the Transfiguration of Jesus, is a cosmically magnified version of that sort of displacement. Until this point in the earthly ministry of Jesus, the disciples have been following him around, occasionally managing to give the right answer to questions like “Who do you say that I am?”, but for the most part demonstrating just how constrained their understanding really is. Their master heals people, performs signs and wonders, and announces the kingdom of God, but I think they still do see him very much as theirs – their teacher, their Lord, the one of whom they have a piece. The three whom he takes up the mountain are suddenly made to see him in a different context: there he stands, with Moses and Elijah – the Law and the Prophets – and a voice which must be that of God says “This is my Son, the Beloved; with whom I am well pleased; listen to him!” This, above even those they have been taught to revere. Their vision is transformed, so that they see him radiant with the glory of God, the light which is always there, but which human eyes cannot ordinarily see – the light which represents, in the words of the Orthodox theologian Gregory Palamas, the “energies of God”. Seeing Jesus in such a way, in such a context, shows them that he cannot possibly be defined by their relationship with him, contained within the bounds of their perception or understanding. And it knocks them sideways. The usual Orthodox icon of the Transfiguration depicts this wonderfully – Peter, James, and John are shown sprawling on the mountainside, their feet whisked out from under them. At least one generally seems to be on the verge of tumbling down the slope, and only Peter reaches upward with his absurd suggestion about building booths, searching desperately for some sort of conceptual structure which will enable them to hold on to the vision, to organise what they have been shown into a recognisable pattern.

But there's no way they can do that, not yet, anyway. This moment, this vision, recapitulates the Baptism of Jesus, the first public revelation of his divine identity; it summarises all the signs and wonders which the disciples have seen him do; but it also looks forward. It prefigures his resurrection from the death which none of them are ready to contemplate, and his ascension to glory thereafter, and it prepares them to recognise those moments when they arrive. But the three are not ready yet – that brief flash of vision is all they're granted for the time being, and Jesus tells them to keep even that to themselves until the right moment comes to reveal it. If you're the sort of person who tries to imagine the lives of people in scripture, you can't help wondering how this moment changed their relationship with Jesus: whether it remained at the forefront of their minds, or slid into that place where half-remembered dreams take up residence, while they returned to the pattern of their lives as followers and companions. Were they transformed, there, on the mountainside, or simply made ready for transformation when the fullness of the Incarnation was made clear?

Of course mountaintops are wonderful places for revelation, because in a purely physical way they make so much more of the world visible than a ground-level perspective allows, but moments of transfiguration, as one of my favourite Anglican theologians, Kenneth Leech, puts it, “can and [do] occur ‘just around the corner’... in the midst of perplexity, imperfection, and disastrous misunderstanding.” They can happen when our feet are knocked out from under us and we feel as though we're ready to tumble down a steep slope, when this abrupt shift in perspective allows us to see things from altogether new and disturbing angles. And, as with the disciples, it will probably take us time to work out what transfiguration means.

Because transfiguration, ultimately, is something that happens to us, in Christ The word that's used in Greek is metamorphosis, which is more than a change of shape, or of visible form, but a process of growing from one state of being to another. Orthodox theologians also talk about theosis, the process by which we grow into the life of God. And for us, seeing the Incarnation from the other side of the empty tomb, the whole of our Christian life can guide us into this growth. We may occasionally climb mountains in search of God, but we can also see the face of Christ transfigured in community, and in the people we meet on the street. Our life of worship, when we pause to think about it, is shot through with transfiguration, with metamorphosis. Water becomes the sepulchre through which baptism draws us into resurrected life. We take ordinary things, bread and wine, and offer them to God, and they become, by God’s love and grace, utterly extraordinary. “This is my body, given for you... this is my blood, shed for you...”

 As the Body of Christ, we are witnesses that sacramental transformation can come into the world, has come into the world, into the lives of individuals and of communities. We remember the transfigurations which God has shown us, in scripture, in history, in nature, and in our own experience, and we hold ourselves in readiness to be transformed more and more into the likeness of Christ. And finally, we are called to proclaim, in word but most especially in deed, the love that makes such transformation possible, and to reflect the light of Christ clearly and faithfully to the world God loves.

The current Humphrys Chaplain to the University of Trinity College and the Saint George campus of the

The Reverend Andrea Budgey

University of Toronto is the Rev'd Andrea Budgey.

Ms. Budgey completed both an M Mus (performance: oboe) and an MA (medieval studies: Celtic languages and literature, music) at the University of Toronto, and in 2006 obtained her M Div from Trinity College. She was ordained priest in January of 2008, and was Assistant Curate at Saint Simon-the-Apostle in Toronto until the end of that year, continuing to serve as honorary assistant, and later as interim priest-in-charge; she is currently an honorary assistant at the parish of Saint Stephen-in-the-Fields, close to campus. She has been involved in community outreach and advocacy for a number of years, and retains a strong interest in ecumenical and interfaith work; she welcomes constructive engagement with both seekers and skeptics. She is also advisory board chair of the University of Toronto unit of the Student Christian Movement. As a member and co-founder of the SINE NOMINE Ensemble for Medieval Music, she sings and plays harp, fiddle, recorder, and percussion, and has directed a number of medieval liturgical reconstructions. She has been an instructor (in Celtic Studies, music, and English) for Saint Michael's College, the School of Continuing Studies, the Faculty of Music, and the Scarborough campus of the University of Toronto, a freelance writer and researcher, bookseller, and calligrapher, and has also worked in radio music production and concert management.

The Homily preached at the funeral for Sister Merle Milligan, SSJD by The Right Reverend Linda Nicholls

Homily

Thursday, March 6, 2014

Funeral: Sr. Merle Milligan, SSJD

Homilist: Bishop Linda Nicholls

From the moment we draw our first breath in this world we are pushed pummelled, shaped and formed by the world around and within us, From the accidents of our birth -family, place & time to the social milieu & world events to the choices of ourselves and others we are formed and at time choose to be formed. Our first hymn today described that process so well…….

The Rt. Rev. Linda Nicholls

Great God, your love has called us here as we, by love, for love were made.

…………

We come with self inflicted pains of broken trust and chosen wrong;

Half free, half-bound by inner chains, by social forces swept along

By powers and systems close confined; yet seeking hope for humankind……

Great God, in Christ you call our name and then receive us as your own

Not through some merit, right, or claim, but by your gracious love alone.

Great God, in Christ you set us free, your life to live, your joy to share,

Give us your Spirit’s liberty to turn from built and dull despair,

And offer all that faith can do while love is making all things new.

And it struck me as we sang it that it described the journey of life that Sr. Merle experienced. In midst of many forces - from the death of her mother at birth to her service in the Second World War to her choice to be formed as a disciple of Jesus through life in the Sisterhood of St. John the Divine - Sr. Merle sought to live faithfully relying on the love of God her creator.

We all do this resting on the certainty of the promises we have heard in scripture, particularly that in John 6. “Everything the Father gives to me will come to me, and anyone who come to me I will never drive away I will never turn away anyone who believes in me….that all who see the Son and believe in him may have eternal life.”

Sr. Merle’s early life - the death of her mother and subsequent shifts among families - were painful - but developed an independence and resiliency in her. Sr. Merle was a woman of strong opinions and not shy about sharing them! Her life choices were those of serving others - from military service as a young woman to her vocation as a nurse in Montreal and at St. John’s Convalescent Home. She was a woman of keen intelligence and abilities as an Administrator and Manager, as a Head Nurse at Montreal General Hospital for several units, as Assistant Administrator at St. John’s Convalescent Home and at the Home for the Aged and Cana Place.

I met Sr. Merle in her later years in retirement and marvelled at her constant interest in world affairs & history. She always knew what was on the front page of the newspaper!

Many have noted that although she often seemed serious she had a lovely smile and sense of humour. She and I shared a common delight - cats! Merle would light up with delight when discussing the vagaries of cat behaviour - and, of course, Sandy was the best! - despite my protestations that mine were. She would also light up when talking about her friendship with the Sonnenburgs, especially when the children came into their lives. She was so grateful to be part of their family. Her latter years were challenging - the residual effects of a case of shingles were frustrating and the losses of aging were not suffered gladly though in recent months she had demonstrated a reconciliation with her situation.

Merle took what life offered and sought to live as a faithful Christian, choosing to serve others and to serve God. She was, in my experience a very private woman about discussing her faith and life. I am not altogether sure what prompted her to come to SSJD - no doubt God’s call in all its mystery. Although private, she showed and lived it through her choices - not perfectly….She could on occasion be frustrating - but which of us is perfect.

So today we come to celebrate her life and commit her into the keeping of God her creator whose deep love and grace sustained her in the midst of the circumstances and situations that shaped her. This is a bittersweet moment. We do experience the grief of her loss from our midst physically yet, in light of the promises of God, know that she has been reunited with God and is home. We heard the affirmations of those promises through the gospel of John - the promise of eternal life. We heard it in 1 John in the passionate witness of the author and in the beautiful passage of Isaiah that paints a vision of the future banquet where death is swallowed up forever and closing affirmation: “This is the Lord for whom we have waited; Let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation.”

Today we thank God for the life of Sr. Merle and commit her into the hands of her Creator, Redeemer and Sanctifier whose love guided her in the choices of her life. That same God invites us to follow faithfully through our lives. Thanks be to God.

Bishop Linda Nicholls was consecrated on February 2, 2008 and began her ministry as Area Bishop of Trent-Durham on February 15, 2008 .

Linda comes to Episcopal ministry with background as a teacher, parish priest and national staff member.   With university degrees in music and education she taught secondary school music and math for five years at Woodstock International Christian School in Mussoorie , India before exploring a call to ordained ministry.   Her theological education included studies at Ontario Theological Seminary and Wycliffe College before she was ordained deacon in November 1985 and priest in November 1986.   A curacy was served at St. Paul ’s L’Amoreaux Church, Scarborough followed by her appointment as incumbent of the Parish of Georgina (St. James’, Sutton and St. George’s , Sibbald Point).  The Parish of Georgina has the unusual honour of having had three incumbents in series who are all now bishops – Colin Johnson (Toronto), Victoria Matthews (Christ Church, New Zealand) and Linda Nicholls!

In 1991 Linda became the incumbent of the Parish of Holy Trinity, Thornhill where she served until February 2005.   During her parish ministries Linda explored a variety of continuing education courses, including a Certificate in Spiritual Direction, and completed a Doctor of Ministry degree at the University ofToronto in 2002.   Other interests in ministry include a passion for community life, healing ministries and support of Parish Nursing.  From February 2005 to her consecration Linda served in the national office of the Anglican Church of Canada as the Coordinator for Dialogue for Ethics, Interfaith Relations and Congregational Development.  In her ministry as a bishop Linda serves on the Doctrine & Worship Committee of the Diocese; Committee on Religious Orders of the National Church; and the Faith Worship and Ministry Committee for the Anglican Church of Canada.  Linda was appointed in 2011 by the Archbishop of Canterbury to the Anglican Roman Catholic International Commission (ARCIC).   Music has been an abiding commitment for Linda and she relaxes by singing in a chamber choir or playing piano or flute. Wilderness canoe trips provide a summer hobby. She shares her home with a feline companion who is unimpressed with church pomp & circumstance and keeps her focused on daily maintenance requirements!

“Those who are well do not need a physician..... a sermon preached by the Reverend Maggie Helwig

“Those who are well do not need a physician, but those who are sick.”

The  Reverend Maggie Helwig

We are all of us a mixture of both health and sickness, really. But it is our health that we mostly value. And understandably so – sickness is not something we want to endure, or to have within us. Physical sickness is unpleasant, painful, sometimes terrifying, and sometimes also extremely boring. It is something which narrows us down, flattens our experience into the dull expanse of the world of illness. In theory, we can learn from physical illness, go deeper into our vulnerability, our need for the care of others, the strange joy of receiving that care at kind hands. But for the most part these are things we understand in retrospect. When we are sick, we are mostly just able to be sick.

But of course, it is not physical illness which Jesus is talking about here. The saying comes immediately after his shocking decision to call as a disciple one of the tax-collectors – a collaborator with the occupying Roman forces, a man enmeshed in a profession driven by corruption, greed, intimidation, exploitation. I look at myself and know that I would almost certainly have been one of the people who complained. Lepers and prostitutes, that's one thing, I get that – but people whose very living depends on harming the poor and vulnerable? That is something quite different. Today it might be, let's say, an oil executive. An arms dealer. A corrupt politician. A high-powered corporate bully.

And yet – Levi came. He left his table, he turned. He was capable of that turning. Something within him recognized his sickness as sickness, must always have somehow recognized it, and could reach out for health. He had always been capable – if only there were someone to see that in him, someone who could say to him, “Come. Now. Change. Now,” as if it were possible. And it became then possible, and his world opened up. When we are sick, we are only able to be sick, in that flat world of repetition. But when we turn towards healing, possibility enters once again.

We want to offer our goodness to God; and it's entirely reasonable that we do. Like a child offering a drawing or some cheap scented soap to a beloved parent, we want to give our best gifts, the places where we are strong, the times when we are creative and loving and generous. We do not want to go to God with the sickness of the tax collector in our hands. We do not want to offer our selfishness, our greed, our misery, our compromises. It hurts even to look at these things in ourselves, much less to present them as our offerings. But these must be our gifts, must be in some way our best gifts. We take these bad things, these broken parts of our souls, these knots of spiritual sickness, and we lay them down. We put them before the God who is our physician and our medicine, as honestly as we can, and ask for some kind of healing. Ask that all these things be made, somehow, slowly and strangely, into something better, into something good. And perhaps we will only understand it retrospect, will only see then that the gift we offered became at that moment the gift we were being given.

And at the same time, part of our vocation is to call others to healing; not because we are all better, but just as we are, we hope, being healed ourselves. And sometimes this means calling out the sickness. The God who comes to us where we are failing and broken does not do so in order to leave us exactly where we started, but to make us all stand up from our tables, and turn. And we may need, here and now, to be God's agents in that call. Sometimes it is gentle and personal and individual, but sometimes it means challenge, it means going to those oil executives and saying, this, this societal dependence on fossil fuels, this ravaging of our earth, this privileging of short-term economic gain over the well-being of future generations, this is not good, this is not well, this is not the way of health. But we must do it in the belief that they can indeed change, that we are there not just to reprimand, and never to reject, but to say, as one sick soul to another, that it is not too late. That we can change, that God comes to these parched places, that we can be the repairers of the breach, that we can all heal together. For that great healer who comes for the sick comes, thereby, for us all.

The  Reverend Maggie Helwig was appointed priest-in-charge of St. Stephen- in- the- Fields in Toronto  in May 2013.

Before her ordination, Maggie worked as a writer, editor, arts organizer, and human rights activist. She spent nearly ten years as an organizer of the Friday Out of the Cold/Out of the Heat meal program, which began at St Stephen’s and is now hosted by St Thomas, Huron Street; she also worked as a parish outreach facilitator for York-Credit Valley, and chairs the diocesan Social Justice and Advocacy Committee. She has published twelve books of poetry, essays and fiction, and her most recent novel, Girls Fall Down (which includes scenes set in a slightly fictionalized St Stephen’s), was shortlisted for the Toronto Book Award in 2009, and chosen as the Toronto Public Library’s One Book Toronto in 2012. She has been the literary editor of Canadian Forum, the co-coordinator of the Toronto Small Press Fair and the associate director of the Scream Literary Festival. Maggie was ordained priest in the Anglican church in January 2012, and has served as the assistant curate at St Timothy’s, North Toronto. She has lived near St Stephen’s for most of her adult life (currently in the Alexandra Park area, a few minutes to the south) and is very excited to be joining the parish as their priest. She hopes to work with the congregation and the community to revitalize their long tradition of engaged urban ministry in the Catholic tradition at St. Stephen- in- the- Fields in Toronto