The Wise Man Epiphany 2023

Epiphany 2023 The Wise Man v1

We magi are a dedicated lot. We came from all over the far east, and for generations before us we magi have been dedicated to reading the ancient texts of many different cultures in an attempt to understand the world we live in, and what we ought to be doing. For centuries we and those magi before us have been keenly interested in the Hebrew prophets. Especially this text from Isaiah:

Arise, shine; for your light has come,
and the glory of the Lord has risen upon you.

For darkness shall cover the earth,
and thick darkness the peoples;

but the Lord will arise upon you,
and his glory will appear over you.

Nations shall come to your light,
and kings to the brightness of your dawn.

Lift up your eyes and look around;
they all gather together, they come to you;

your sons shall come from far away,
and your daughters shall be carried on their nurses' arms.

Then you shall see and be radiant;
your heart shall thrill and rejoice,

because the abundance of the sea shall be brought to you,
the wealth of the nations shall come to you.

A multitude of camels shall cover you,
the young camels of Midian and Ephah;
all those from Sheba shall come.

They shall bring gold and frankincense,
and shall proclaim the praise of the Lord.

[Isaiah 60:1-6]

Not long ago, a few of our guild, after numerous calculations and scanning the heavens for the arrival of this Light, there suddenly appeared this one star which we were sure was the “Light” about which Isaiah had written centuries ago. A large group of us, including me, gathered to go and see for ourselves. And so, with a few gifts, and a multitude of camels, off we went. 

After a nearly year-long trek westward, always following the star, we arrived in the historic land of the Jews, now a province of the Roman Empire. Upon inquiry, we learned that a man named Herod, himself neither a Jew nor a Roman, was the appointed King of the Jews. A group of about ten of us were able to get an audience with this King of the Jews. Almost immediately we sensed he did not feel at home in this land, and as we talked it became clear that he believed neither in the God of Israel, nor did he give much thought to the gods of Olympus. He thought only of himself. 

Before talking about our search, he questioned us, and asked if we had any wisdom that might be helpful to him. “Beware of family entanglements,” one of us said. “And do not travel by water on Friday. As the sun moves into the house of Jupiter, affairs of the heart may prosper.” A desperate man, he took it hook, line and sinker. But it became evident that he wanted more than simple jingles. He became quite serious and asked where we thought this new “king of the Jews” we were looking for, this “light of the world,” might be born. We allowed that that’s precisely what we were asking him. He put his Hebrew consultants to work on it. Coming back the next day they announced that we should go to Bethlehem, the city of David. 

Then his face grew dark. Ominous really. With his hands shaking, he spoke: “Go and find the child. Then come back and tell me so that I too might go and worship him.” Never had I felt so cold. And so fortunate to be one of the magi and not a king. I ask you, does a man need to consult the stars to know that no king has ever bowed down to another king. He took us for fools, that sly, lost old fox, and so like fools we bowed and answered him, “Oh, yes. Of course! Of course!” As we went on our way, a demonic smile crossed his face, and the rings rattled on his boney fingers. Silently we vowed, never to see Herod again. [i] 

Why did we go? Was it not enough to know this thing was happening without having to be present to the birth? To this, not even the stars had an answer. It was another voice altogether urging us to go and see – a voice as deep within ourselves as the stars are deep in the ever-expanding universe. [ii] 

But why did I go? I could not have told you then, and I’m still not sure. It’s not that we had no motive, it’s that there were so many. Curiosity, I suppose. And being wise, we magi are a very curious lot. We wanted to see for ourselves the One about whom it was said even the stars bow down – and to acknowledge that even the wise sometimes have their doubts. And longing. Why does a thirsty man cross the desert sands as hot as fire at simply the possibility of water? As much as we longed to receive, we also longed to give. Why does a man labor and struggle all his life long so that in the end he has something to give to the One he loves? To the One who loves him? 

We finally arrived in Bethlehem, at a kataluma, a large, square, two-story edifice built around an open inner courtyard, to which the star had led us. We crossed the courtyard, past the well, and took the stairs up to the second story above the barns where the animals were kept. Our camels remained in the barns below. We could only go inside in groups of ten or so at a time, the room being quite small, but there they were. The man. The woman. Between them the king. We did not stay long. A few minutes as the clock goes; ten thousand thousand years our ancestor magi seeking the way, the truth and the life. We set our foolish gifts down on the floor and left by another way. Herod need not know, let alone see, what we had seen. 

I will tell you two terrible things. What we saw on the face of the newborn child was his death. The wood of the crib would one day be the wood of a Roman cross. Any fool could see it as well. It sat on his head like a crown. And we saw, as sure as the ground beneath our feet, that to stay with him, to follow him, would be to share in that death, and that is why we left – giving only our gifts, withholding the rest.[iii] 

And now, sisters and brothers, I will ask you a terrible question, and God knows I ask it of myself as well. Is the truth beyond all truths, beyond the stars, beyond all wisdom, just this: that to live without him is the real death; that to die with him is the only life? [iv] 

I now know, what I did not know then. I went to find out that the mystery my fellow magi and I had been chasing all these centuries had always been right before us the whole time. That the mystery that is the source of all life dwells among us and within us all. For what we saw in the child’s face was not that of any earthly king, but one who was born as one with the One; one with the true power, the true source of all that is, seen and unseen: the source of eternal love. 

Now, I no longer look to the stars for answers, but for beauty, wonder and love. I no longer spend hours each day consulting ancient texts, as beautiful as they are. I spend my days sitting in silence, what the Hebrews call prayer, to become ever closer to the light and the life we saw in that upper room, so that in some small way, I can become that which we seek. I sit and listen. And to set aside all the noise within and without that stands between us – between me, and the One we saw that day in Bethlehem – and whom I can still see every day in those he loves, his beloved of all generations, of all nations; he who is good news for all the people; he who comes daily to bring peace on earth and good will for all the people. For all the people. I sit. I listen. And then I sing with the prophet: 

Arise, shine; for your light has come,

and the glory of the LORD has risen upon you! 

---

[i] Buechner, Frederick, The Magnificent Defeat (The Seabury Press, New York:1979) p.69

[ii] Ibid p.70

[iii] Ibid, p.71

[iv] Ibid, p.71-72

 

  

Christmas Eve 2023 That's The Mystery!

 Christmas Eve 2023

Christmas comes but once a year! Yet, it used to last from Thanksgiving to Christmas. Then Christmas shopping began around Halloween. And now it seems as if September is not too early to begin seeing Christmas items on sale. By my calculation, Christmas consumes, and I mean consumes, roughly one-third of the year! And still, I hear people saying, “I’ll never make it to Christmas! I will never get everything done! I’m not ready for Christmas!” 

Breaking News: that night in the manger, as Luke tells the story, or in the house, as Matthew tells it, or sometime before the beginning of creation as John tells it, guess what? Nobody, no one, was ready for the Word to become flesh and dwell among us. No one was prepared for Emmanuel, “God with us!” to show up. 

There are shepherds on the outskirts of Bethlehem – which by the way, means something like “House of Bread,” and much like parts of Ukraine, Bethlehem was known as the “breadbasket of Judea,” producing large amounts of grain for the entire region. These shepherds are just settling down for a long winter’s night watching and protecting a flock of sheep. Sheep. The only sheep I have known personally can be quite cantankerous and unruly, so these fellows had no easy job. There is no way they were ready for a multitude of Heavenly Hosts to arrive out of nowhere proclaiming the birth of a child who would bring Peace on Earth. AND, goodwill among the all the people. Go and see for yourself, sing the hosts! You will find a babe wrapped in swaddling cloths, lying in a manger. 

Oh my goodness, they must have said to themselves! I’m not ready for this. We will be expected to bring gifts to the baby shower, and it’s a week until payday, and what do you buy for someone who can get people to respect one another and help one another? We’ll never get there on time! 

But alas, they do as they are told by their heavenly visitors. There was a manger, a corn crib, with a man named Joseph, a woman named Mary, and between them, a child, wrapped in swaddling cloths. This must be the One! As they hurry back to the business of sheep-herding they tell everyone along the way what had happened and what they had seen. As if it could possibly be put into words. Yet, Luke tells us, all who heard what they did say were amazed. Meanwhile, back at the manger, the young girl pondered all of this in her heart, exhausted and yet radiant for having delivered the child the angel Gabriel had announced she was to name Jesus – Yeshua, “he who saves, or “he who redeems.” 

It should come as no surprise that Luke writes a somewhat coded tale of just how the Word became flesh and moved into the neighborhood – as is proclaimed every day on the sign outside Christ Church Rock Spring Parish. Beginning with the name: perhaps we are meant to see the irony in the child’s name. Named after the first Yeshua, or Joshua, who “fit the battle at Jericho, and the walls came tumbling down,” this new Yeshua would be among us as a man of peace and goodwill. His only weapons were prayer and a healing presence. People felt renewed, restored, or just plain different after an encounter with Jesus. He tells his disciples to put down all weapons. He redeems his very name from being that of a mighty warrior to one who cares for, transforms, renews and feeds everyone in sight; all who come to him; all whom he seeks and gathers like a shepherd for people in need, people who are lost, people who need some kind of new direction in their lives. 

We may also notice that “a child in swaddling cloths” is mentioned three times: first, we are told Mary wraps him in swaddling cloths; next, the shepherds are told to look for a child in swaddling clothes; and indeed, there they find him, lying in a manger. Many who first heard Luke’s tale would recognize at least two passages in Hebrew Scripture mention swaddling clothes. King Solomon, in the book of Wisdom, reflects on his common connection with all humanity: “...with swaddling clothes and with constant care I was nurtured. For no king has any different origin or birth, but one is the entry into life for us all; and in the same way they leave it.” [Wisdom 7:6] This image is meant to direct us to reflect on our common humanity. As St Paul prays, our God “has made of one blood all the peoples of the earth.” [Acts 17:26] Do we see this? Do we hear this? Do we believe all people are of one blood as we hear this story told? 

And just how curious is it, that God sends his messengers, the Heavenly Host, to announce this astonishing news to a seemingly random group of shepherds? God might have sent them to Caesar, who at the time was in possession of the land and all the peoples therein. Or, to one of the Herods, Caesar’s appointed regents. Or, more locally to Pilate. Or, even to the Chief Priests in Jerusalem, or to the utterly faithful Pharisees, to name a few more likely candidates. But shepherds wander; they journey from place-to-place seeking food and water for their sheep. They know how to sustain life not only for their sheep and goats, but for themselves as well. It is no accident that the first and most famous King of Israel was a ruddy young shepherd boy, David. He had walked the hills and the valleys, the rough roads and the smooth, watching and leading his father’s sheep. Prophets like Jeremiah and Ezekiel use the image of shepherds for those chosen to lead the people of God: Jesus’s father’s “sheep.” Shepherds know that life, especially the spiritual life, is a journey, a never ending, always changing, journey. Suggesting that all of us who come into this world in swaddling clothes are wanderers, people on a journey with others – all others. The babe in the manger will grow up to be a good shepherd, caring for the “sheep” of his Father’s pasture. In just a few sentences, Luke manages to take us deep into the mystery of this child’s birth. 

Once upon a time, years ago at St. Peter’s in Ellicott City, we delivered invitations to our entire neighborhood to come visit our church on a Friday evening in Advent. It was an intentional act of evangelism. With one small hitch: we forgot to put the address of the church on the invitation! Nevertheless, people came. Someone suggested lighting a little incense to give the full flavor of what Anglo-Catholic worship is like in all its ritual and transcendence. I was in the hallway, having prepared the coals in the thurible, placing some grains of frankincense on the coals. As the vapor began to rise, a tiny voice behind me said, “That’s the mystery!” I turned, and there was our youngest daughter, Cerny, with her friend Allison, pointing to the incense and declaring, “That’s the mystery!” I thought, “Yes, that’s what Christmas is all about – the mystery that God loves us so much as to come down and dwell among us.” That’s the mystery, just as she said. 

A few grains of incense

Scattered on the coals

Smoke begins to rise

The little girl

Standing there

Opens wide her eyes

 

“That’s the mystery,” she says!

“That’s the mystery!”

“That’s the mystery,” she says!

“That’s the mystery!”

 

See that star up in the sky

Shining on the place

Where the tiny child lies

Lighting up his face

 

Can you see the angels there

Up there in the light

Singing songs for all the world

Singing through the night

 

Hear those angels flying by

Calling out His name

Telling us He’ll change the world

Nothing will be the same

 

“That’s the mystery,” she says!

“That’s the mystery!”

“That’s the mystery,” she says!

“That’s the mystery!”

 

Jesus lying in the manger

Listen to him cry

He already seems to know that

He was born to die

 

To die to hate

To die to greed

To die to power and sin

To die to everything that blocks

The God who lives within

 

Within our hearts

Within our souls

Within our minds and hands

The God who is Emmanuel

Breaths His Spirit through all the lands

 

“That’s the mystery,” she says!

“That’s the mystery!”

“That’s the mystery,” she says!

“That’s the mystery!”

 

A child looks and sees the scene

Eats bread and drinks the wine

Seems to know what all this means

Now and for all time

 

Can we see him

Can we hear him

Can he make us all his own?

If he came down here right now

Would he recognize this as home?

 

Whenever there are two or three

Gathered in my name

You’ll see the brokenhearted and the poor

The blind, the sick, the lame

 

Being welcomed, being served

Given dignity and love

Giving thanks for all good gifts

That come down from above

 

“That’s the mystery,” she says!

“That’s the mystery!”

“That’s the mystery,” she says!

“That’s the mystery!”

 

See the baby

See his mother

See the bread and wine

See the angels

See the stars

See that everything is fine

 

He lives in us

He gives us breath

He calls us to be his own

He calls us to the manger stall

To make that place our home

 

 

Then he rises on the clouds

To wake us from our sleep

As we gather to see Him one more time

In the darkness that is so deep

 

“That’s the mystery,” she says!

“That’s the mystery!”

“That’s the mystery,” she says!

“That’s the mystery!”

 

The angels and the stars

The shepherds and the light

The incense and the bread and wine

All call us to this night

To enter deeper into the tale

Of how God came to Earth

To sing the mystery of love come down

The mystery of his birth

 

“That’s the mystery,” she says!

“That’s the mystery!”

“That’s the mystery,” she says!

“That’s the mystery!”

 

Forty Years in the Wilderness 12/17/2013

 Forty Years in the Wilderness  -  12/17/23

We read in Second Samuel chapter 7 and Luke chapter 1 that the “Word of the Lord” came to Nathan, prophet to the shepherd king, David, and to a young woman in Nazareth in Galilee. The messages to both are astonishing and detailed. The consequences of both are far-reaching. And whatever we may think about such stories, experience has told me that this is in fact the way things happen if we are open to the possibility. 

It's difficult to pinpoint when it all began, this journey of mine. When I was moving my mother from our home in Illinois to Maryland, I came across a Sunday School project I had made: a piece of cardboard, on which I had pasted on one side a cross with the words, “I am come that they may have life [John 10:10].” On the reverse side is a picture of Jesus, lantern in hand, knocking on a door. It is a reproduction of a painting by the Pre-Raphaelite artist, William Homan Hunt titled, The Light of the World, 1851. I, of course, had forgotten this project my mother saved all these years. Perhaps it was a precursor, since I have since served two churches, including Rock Spring Parish, that have windows based on Hunt’s Light of the World, and I have used the image extensively in sermons and workshops throughout these forty years – curiously, the stated length of time the people who escaped Pharaoh’s Egypt were in the wilderness becoming a people of God. 

The distinguishing detail of the image is that there is no door knob on Jesus’s side of the door. This suggests that when Jesus knocks on your door, it is up to you to open it. Which is, in part, how I end up here some sixty or more years since I first saw Hunt’s Light of the World. It was December of 1979, and I was in Kroch’s and Brentano’s book store in Oak Park, Illinois looking for possible Christmas gifts. For reasons I cannot explain, I pulled a book by Thomas Merton off the shelf. Merton, a famous Trappist monk and priest, curiously ordained a priest the year of my birth. I opened the book to an essay titled, Love and Solitude which began:

“No writing on the solitary, meditative dimension of life can say anything that has not already been said better by the wind in the pine trees. These pages seek nothing more than to echo the silence and the peace that is ‘heard’ when the rain wanders freely among the hills and forests. But what can the wind say where there is no hearer? There is then a deeper silence: the silence in which the Hearer is No-Hearer. That deeper silence must be heard before one can truly speak of solitude.” [i] 

There was a knock on my door. I opened it. I found myself standing on the shore of the ocean, with waves crashing over my head. Each time a wave crashed, a voice whispered, “It’s time.” Time for what, I asked. “It’s time.” Time for what? “Time to go to seminary.” This went on for what seemed a long time, but perhaps was only a moment. The cash register rang, and suddenly I was back in a bookstore on Lake Street in Oak Park. I bought the book. I told my friend Bill about my experience. His father, The Reverend William Arnall Wagner, Jr., was an Episcopal priest. He said, “You better talk to my dad!” I did. And guided by his father’s wisdom, I began a journey which, as I look back on it now, took off at lightning speed – for the following September, 1980, I was in New York City beginning my first year of seminary. How that was even possible, I don’t know, and still can hardly believe. 

I told my rector, The Reverend David Ward, at Grace Church, Providence, Rhode Island. He  pointed out that there would be numerous ‘hoops’ to jump through. This included getting the Bishop of Rhode Island to Confirm me as an Episcopalian; complete vocational counseling in Boston; paper work to fill out; the writing of a Spiritual Autobiography; and a somewhat contentious meeting with the Standing Committee of the Diocese. I ended up at The General Theological Seminary of the Protestant Episcopal Church in the United States of America on Ninth Avenue, New York City, provisionally – and if my first semester went well, I would be granted retro-active Postulancy, which is the first stage of the ordination process. All because, like the prophet Nathan, and Mary of Nazareth, I took the risk of opening the door and letting Jesus into my life. 

My first parish as a rector was St. Peter’s, Monroe, Connecticut. The window of Jesus knocking at the door was just to the right of the pulpit. It’s a scene from the book of Revelation, chapter three: Behold, I stand at the door and knock! If you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in and eat with you, and you with me. [ii] Looking at that window, I realized that I had heard his voice, opened the door, and have been eating with him, and him with me, ever since. And this was a comfort. I also realized, however, that standing at the pulpit week after week the primary dimension of my task was to prepare others to hear His voice, open the door and let him in. To this day, I find this a daunting responsibility, and at the same time my greatest privilege. That I am still a part of a community of disciples of Christ whom I urge to listen for his voice and open their doors is truly astonishing. To think that I have been doing this as long as those who in the wilderness sought freedom from a truly brutal empire, made a covenant with the God of Abraham, Isaac, Jacob and Jesus, and learned how we are all to Love God with all our heart, all our mind and all our soul, and to love our neighbors as ourselves – it all seems utterly impossible, and yet, a most wonderful circumstance, all at the same time.   

Among the very first things we learned at General Theological Seminary was what we now call Centering Prayer, or Mindfulness, or Contemplative Prayer – prayer that is silent. Prayer that is about silence and solitude as Merton describes it. That is, we are to clear our mind of all else and allow God in Christ to speak to us; to knock on our doors; to come in and become our companion – literally, one with whom we share bread. Dean James Fenhagen, a son of the Diocese of Maryland, took all of us freshmen and women aside one day to teach us a simple way to enter into the world of solitude I had read about back in that bookstore in 1979. This form of prayer has become so important to my journey with Christ, that I have taught this simple method to countless others wherever I find myself. During the pandemic, we practiced this kind of prayer at Noonday Prayer online five days a week. It’s how many of us made it through, together. 

In a world of increasing busyness, increasing division, increasing violence, increasing noise coming at us from all sides, we could all use a little solitude, quiet time, alone time, with the One who stands at our door, day and night, 24/7, knocking on our doors, wanting us to hear and to open ourselves to Him. When we do, it is like the wind whispering in the pines, and the rains wandering freely across the mountains and the forest. There is silence. There is peace. And there is his voice: You are my beloved. With you I am well pleased. Hear me, listen to me. I shall always be by your side, your companion along the Way. I will come in and eat with you, and you with me. We are One.

Amen.

---

[i] Merton, Thomas, Love and Living (Farrar-Straus-Giroux, New York:1979) p.15

[ii] Revelation 3:20

The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God

 The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God  [i]

Mark begins, “The beginning of the good news…” Mark echoes the story of creation: the methodical taming of the deep waters of chaos into a life sustaining world. Mark’s world was chaotic due to the demonic powers of captivity under the empire of the competing gods called Caesar. Those listening to Mark’s  “gospel,” evangelion in Greek – literally good angel, or good messenger –stood among the ruins of Jerusalem, among the ashes of the Temple, atop Mount Zion after the Roman legions had crushed the attempted Jewish Revolt of 66-70 CE. 

Gospel, or “good news/good tidings” was a phrase used to describe the core message of hope and deliverance by the prophet Isaiah [chapters 40-50], delivered to those held captive in Babylon some six centuries before the time of Jesus and Mark. Ironically, the word Gospel also referred to Roman propaganda, delivered by messengers sent throughout the empire to proclaim new military victories such as the defeat of the recent revolt in Jerusalem. Those listening “atop Zion” to Mark’s gospel would recognize its long-ago origins in Isaiah, while people everywhere in Judea and Galilee were hearing the “good news” of the destruction of Jerusalem. Like those held captive in Babylon, now they were captive once again, this time captive at home. 

Then Mark begins his story of Jesus with words drawn from Exodus, Malachi and Isaiah: “See, I am sending my messenger ahead of you, who will prepare your way; the voice of one crying out in the wilderness: ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight.’” Thus, signaling that once again God promises to send a messenger to lead them out of the wilderness of captivity into freedom from the demonic powers of the empire. It will be like the deliverance from Babylon as Isaiah had announced, but his time rather than a physical roadway home, it will be a way “made straight” in human hearts: repentance, a turning back to the message and ministry of the Lord. Mark connects the current crisis to earlier cycles of captivity and deliverance. The good news of Jesus has its origins in these stories of our people going back over one thousand years. 

We might imagine the people listening to Mark remembering how it all began. Once upon a time, in an ancient and faraway country, before there were cities and towns, only small tribes and caravans of people living on the land, wandering from place to place, looking for fresh water and green vegetation, there was a mountain top. Those who climbed up to the top of this mountain, like our father Abraham, said they could feel the presence of God. A presence that says, “Love the One God who loves you and cares for you always, and love and care for one another, especially the others, the poor, the widows, the orphans and strangers.” 

When they came down from the mountain, they would repeat this good news to others: to Love God and Love others, all others. Throughout the years those who would go to the top of the mountain would leave a stone at the place where they felt the presence of God as a reminder. Even those who did not experience God left a stone to remember the stories they had heard of those who had. Each placed a stone, one atop the other, year after year, until first a monument was built. Years later a magnificent Temple covered the place on the mountain top where God’s presence could be felt and heard: to Love God and Love Others, all others. People would come to the Temple, and entering they would know that something important was there, something sacred and true. There was a presence, sacred and holy. They would stop and praise God and remember the stories of all those in the past who had been to the mountain top. 

Over the years as more and more people made the journey to the top of the mountain leaving more and more stones one atop the other, soon a city was built around the Temple with long winding, narrow streets, lined with homes and shops and plazas and fountains. People coming to the mountain to experience God and hear the stories of the past would need to stop and ask directions to find their way to the Temple so as not to get lost in the back streets of the city. And each in turn would leave a stone to remember the great events and stories of the past. Soon there were so many stones a great wall surrounded the city with majestic gates and ramparts. People coming to the mountain to go to the Temple would have to find a gate they would be allowed to enter. Sometimes the gates were open, sometimes the gates were closed. 

For many people, even in the city, the top of the mountain became more difficult to find. It had been covered with so many many stones. The gates were crowded, the streets noisy and narrow. There was so much activity, so many distractions and attractions that no one could hear the directions to find their way to the top of the mountain where God’s presence stood ready to remind them to Love the God who loves and cares for them always, and to love and care for one another, especially the others including those beyond the walls of the city. 

Then, a deep darkness covered all the mountain. An empire took over the city and the Temple. The leader of the empire was believed by some to be a god. Life for the pilgrims traveling to and from the city to experience the Love of God found instead a harsh military occupation. The people were praying for relief. The people were taxed severely. Their produce and goods were sent back to the emperor to feed further expansion of the empire. The people were afraid and found themselves captive once again. 

Far away, beyond the walls of the city, was a man, lonely in the wilderness. His name was John. He would cry out loud in the wilderness, “Prepare, prepare the way of the Lord. Make a way for God to return!” High above the crowded and noisy streets, above the gates, above the walls, above the top of the Temple itself, his voice could be heard floating on the wind. Some people, discouraged at no longer being able to find the top of the mountain could hear his voice, so loud and lovely was the voice of the man, lonely in the wilderness. First one, then another went beyond the gates of the city and followed the sound of that voice. They followed the sound floating on the winds. They could hear it like music in the sky! When they found John, he was singing, “Prepare ye the way of the Lord! Prepare ye the way of the Lord!” 

All the people came out of the city and from all the surrounding countryside to be with the man, lonely in the wilderness, until soon, all the inhabitants from both inside and outside the walls of the city found themselves standing with the man, lonely in the wilderness. They joined with John in singing, “Prepare ye the way of the Lord! Prepare ye the way of the Lord.” Everyone everywhere could hear the cry carried on the wind to the four corners of the Earth! 

Then John led them down to the River – the River their ancestors had crossed long long ago to leave the wilderness and come to the mountain the first time. John invited them to bathe in the water, to confess their sins of forgetting God’s Way, and to remember their God – the God who loves them and cares for them always. “Remember to love God and to love the others, all others, especially the poor, the widows, the orphans and the strangers. And I tell you, another will come, stronger than me, who will show us the way back to the God who comes to lead us home. Remember, remember, remember today – the one who shall come will show us the way!” 

As it was then, so it is today. When we listen above the noise of the city, above the demonic noise of empires, above the noise of the crowds, when we are still and listen wherever we are, a voice can still be heard, floating on the wind, beyond the noise and the gates of the city, above the tops of the highest mountains, still calling to us, ‘Prepare ye the way of the Lord; Prepare ye the way of the Lord. Open your heart to receive the message and ministry of our Lord.’ 

This is the beginning of the gospel, of the Good News, of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.

Always we begin again!

---

[i] Mark 1:1-8

Apocalyptic Boogie Advent 1B

 Apocalyptic Boogie

The Second Coming. It cannot be about Jesus returning. For in truth, he never really left. Ask the two disciples on the road to Emmaus. Ask the disciples in the upper room. He himself said, “Lo, I am with you always to the end of the age.” That’s what we watch and wait for: the end of the age; the Day of the Lord; the complete and full unfolding of God’s gracious reign of unending mercy and love of all, for all. 

Mark chapter 13, often referred to as the “Marcan Apocalypse,” or “the Little Apocalypse,” is yet another example of New Testament Apocalyptic. It speaks of the ‘the Son of Man coming in clouds’ with power and great glory. We need to remember that despite its origins in Old Testament apocalyptic literature, New Testament Apocalyptic appears to be less predictive of a future; rather it is more descriptive of life on the ground here and now. 

Apocalyptic texts urge perseverance and faithfulness in times of tremendous community crisis, such as the exile to Babylon, and engenders the hope that one day, as in the days of the Passover/Exodus event, God will one day intervene in human history to rescue his people again. Although Mark 13 draws upon numerous texts from Hebrew Scripture, along with Daniel’s image of a figure called ‘the Son of Man,’ it is descriptive of what was happening – the brutal Roman occupation and the total destruction of Jerusalem and the Temple. Listening to the totality of the thirteenth chapter of Mark, Jesus urges perseverance and faithfulness until ‘the end of the age’ when the unfolding of God’s reign is complete. 

Further, although there were those, like Paul, who believed or hoped Christ would return soon, the delay in such a return for many gave rise to a belief that Christ’s life, death and resurrection is the saving action, and that the earthly Jesus prepared his followers for life after the destruction of the Temple to live lives devoted to God and to love one’s neighbor as oneself – with a true broadening of just who our neighbors are in the story of an historic enemy Samaritan who provides assistance for someone in need, no questions asked. 

The Australian Jesuit, Brendan Byrne, in his commentary on Mark observes, “For most Christians today the expectation of Christ’s return in glory (“Second Coming”), though still proclaimed in liturgy and creeds, is hardly a daily preoccupation. We ‘look back’ to his life, death and resurrection as the chief elements of his saving work. For the early generations, however, the emphasis was the other way around. It was as the Son of Man returning to glory that Christ would perform his principal messianic role: be the agent of the final victory of G_d. Cohabiting with a lively faith in the risen Lord was a strong sense of unfinished business…The same concerns  - and not a few more – linger on for us today, and raise the same issues about the faithfulness and power of G_d. Both in its original context and as it can be read today, the discourse [in Mark 13] has about it a large aspect of theodicy: in the face of all the evidence, is it still possible to believe in G_d – and cling to the promise of Jesus?” [i]

 

Yes, that is a mouthful! First, it may surprise some that in the United States today, according to the Wikipedia article, Second Coming, “A 2010 survey showed that about 40% of Americans believe that Jesus is likely to return by 2050. This varies from 58% of white evangelical Christians, through 32% of Catholics to 27% of white mainline Protestants.” Belief in a Second Coming was popularized by Dwight Moody in the late 19^th century, and became a core belief of fundamentalism in the 1920s. It is interesting to note, that the crisis both Moody and the fundamentalists addressed is modernism – trying to reconcile traditional faith with scientific, philosophical and theological trends and discoveries of the past several hundred years. Both Moody and the fundamentalists, ironically, appear to be modern themselves as they and others introduce new and novel teachings to the life of the Church: including specific predictions about when a Second Coming will be.  As to predicting when? Jesus says: No one knows when the end of days, the end of the world, or a possible second coming will come to pass. Not even me! 

As to theodicy: This was an Enlightenment question: if God is good why does evil persist in the world? A simplistic answer would be, because in Mark chapter 13 Jesus says it will, but not to worry. Because this is the wrong question. The real question is: Where is God in all of this upheaval, the persistence of evil, and persecution of the faithful. Answer: Emmanuel – God with us. Just as God is with Christ on the cross and at the dawn of the resurrection, so God is with us in the midst of human suffering. 

Finally, the discourse addresses one final question: What are we, those who follow the Way of Jesus, to do in the meantime? Jesus says as we serve those in greatest need: the hungry, thirsty, the stranger, those in prison, widows, orphans, we serve him.[ii] To illustrate, Jesus tells a story. 

A man goes on a journey, and appoints his servants to continue the work he has given them to do. He does not say when he is getting back. They are to stay the course, and watch: stay awake! To make his point, he assigns one as a watchman to specifically make sure all are ready when he will return from his journey. “For you do not know when the master of the house will come, in the evening, or at midnight, or at cockcrow, or at dawn, or else he may find you asleep when he comes suddenly. And what I say to you I say to all: Keep awake.”[iii] 

In this pastiche of apocalyptic imagery, we find language of parable, symbol and myth, since there is no literal language to describe the transcendent ways of God. It is a language of assurance and hope. All shall be well. For Jesus is not sitting idly by doing nothing while his disciples face the persistence of evil, and the insecurity of not knowing when the Day of the Lord will appear. Through the Holy Spirit the Christ already exerts his messianic rule through the very same means by which God has provided the means for a response to the persistent presence of evil – and we are that means. We are God’s intervention to provide comfort in the face of great suffering. This is the cost of discipleship. It is our privilege to serve Christ’s presence among the poor. 

Despite the cost of discipleship and the persistence of evil, Mark’s Jesus proclaims that the divine victory has already been evidenced in the life, death and resurrection of the Son of God. Soon this will be evidenced throughout creation and universally in place as we, like the servants in the parable, continue to do the work he has given us to do. We are to remain watchful and awake as we participate in the complete and full unfolding of God’s gracious reign of unending mercy and love of all, for all. Only because he is with us, here and now to the end of the age, are we able to do all of this. And greater things than these! [iv]

[i] Byrne SJ, Brendan, A Costly Freedom (Liturgical Press, Collegeville, MN:2008) p.200-201

[ii] Matthew 25:31-46

[iii] Mark 13:32-37

[iv] John 14:122