"Wade in the Water" (sermon)

Two Rivers Pastoral Charge
Sunday January 12, 2025 – Baptism of Jesus
Scripture:  Isaiah 43:1-7 and Luke 3:15-17, 21-22


I don’t know about you, but I’m feeling these days as if the world is extra topsy-turvy and chaotic and unpredictable, and even fear-inducing.  Between wildfires ripping through urban Los Angeles, earthquakes in Tibet, Canadian, American, international politics in turmoil, a scary inauguration coming up in just over a week south of the border, fact-checking being removed from Social Media, ongoing wars in Palestine and Ukraine, and the everyday ongoing existential dread around climate change, I don’t think that I’m the only one wondering what the heck is going on in the world these days.

 

And into the chaos of the world, how does it feel to hear these words of God, spoken through the prophet Isaiah?

Do not fear, for I have redeemed you.

I have called you by name, you are mine.

When you pass through the waters,

         I will be with you;

and through the rivers,

         they shall not overwhelm you;

when you walk through fire,

         you shall not be burned,

         and the flame shall not consume you.

Do not fear, for I am with you.

 

I can imagine that there are a number of different ways that these words might be heard.  On one hand, they might be comforting.  But maybe not.  If you are literally running for your life through your neighbourhood trying to escape the wildfire flames, carrying your dog because you didn’t have time to look for a leash, hearing that you can walk through the fire and not be burned would probably sound like pretty empty words.  If you are hunkered down in a refugee tent in January weather because your house was bombed by an invading army, the words “Do not fear, for I am with you” would probably sound like an empty promise, words with no real meaning behind them.  If you are living on an island in the Pacific ocean, watching the ocean levels rise year after year, shrinking the available land mass for you and your neighbours, fearful that the next tsunami will wipe out your island completely, I don’t know how much comfort could be found in the words, “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you.”

 

And with all of the anxiety and dread in the world, how can we truly hear those words that God says again and again and again:  “Do not fear”?

 

But then I go back and read this passage from Isaiah, and I remember that these words of God were not spoken to the Ancient Israelites when everything was sunshine and roses and rainbows and unicorns.  I remember that these words came to the prophet Isaiah in a time of exile – a time when their homes and cities, and even the temple in Jerusalem, the literal home of God, all of these had been destroyed by an invading army, and the people had been carried away to a foreign land, carried away to Babylon, and there they sat on the banks of the river and wept.  These words from Isaiah are being spoken into a time and a place that was maybe even more chaotic and fearful than our own time and place, and being spoken to a people even more traumatized than we and our neighbours are.  Into all of this, God speaks, and God says, “Don’t be afraid.”

 

And to our ancient ancestors, God was faithful to their promises.  It didn’t happen quickly.  The exile lasted for 70 years, so the majority of people who had been carried into exile didn’t live to see the time when their children and grandchildren and great-grandchildren were able to return from exile in Babylon.  The people who witnessed the destruction of the temple didn’t get to witness the re-building of the temple in a re-built Jerusalem.  But God was faithful to their promises, and the time came when God accompanied their people back through the wilderness in order to return to the land.

 

Even though God’s timeline is rarely the same as our timeline or the timeline that we want, God is always faithful to their promises.  No matter what fears or worries or burdens you are carrying right now – either global concerns, or worries closer to home, you can rest assured that God is with you, that God loves you, and that pain and fear and suffering is never the end of the story.

 

Today is also the day that we remember the time when Jesus was baptized in the Jordan River, and I want to end this reflection with a guided mediation.  Wherever you are (here in the church or at home and joining us online), I invite you to sit comfortably.  Sometimes when you are doing a meditation, it is helpful to make sure that both of your feet are on the floor, and your hands are resting on your lap, but really, however you are comfortable is fine.  If you want to lie down on the floor, go for it!  If you are comfortable closing your eyes, I invite you to close your eyes now; but if you aren’t comfortable closing your eyes, that is OK too.

 

I invite you to imagine that you are standing beside the river – standing beside your favourite river, a familiar river.  It isn’t a January river though – it is an August river, with water just the right temperature to be both comfortable and refreshing.  It is a warm sunny day, with just a bit of a breeze that you can feel gently brushing your skin.

 

Are you carrying any worries with you?  Feel free to acknowledge these worries or your fears.  The river is going to be washing away these worries, but in order to do that, you need to bring them to the surface of your awareness.  Name your worries to yourself.  Name those things that you are afraid of.  Don’t give them power over you, by pretending that they don’t exist.

 

As you stand there by the river, what do you hear?  Are there waves lapping against the shore?  Do you hear any birdcalls, either nearby or far away?

 

Are there any smells that catch your attention?  Maybe one of the neighbours is grilling something on this beautiful summer day?  Or maybe it is the green smell of the August waters?

 

Someone is already out there in the river, standing waist-deep in the water. It is someone that you know well, someone that you love, someone that you trust.  Who is it, standing out there in the water?

 

They are beckoning to you to come out and join them in the water. Kick off your sandals, and if the river bed is rocky, feel free to put on some water shoes.

 

And now I invite you to start wading out into the river.  At first the water is only lapping around your ankles.  Keep going until it is up to your knees.  How does the water feel against your legs?  Keep wading out a bit deeper until the water comes up to your waist and you are standing next to your person.

 

Make sure that you are facing each other.  You’re going to be going under the water, so hold on to each other’s forearms so that you can support each other.  Take a deep breath, and then slowly go under the surface of the water together.

 

How does it feel to have the water embracing your whole body?  If you feel any moments of panic, plant your feet firmly on the river bottom, and feel the support from your friend as you hold each other’s arms.  And there, under the water of the river, feel the water carrying away those worries, those fears, those anxieties that you named to yourself earlier.  Let them drift away on the current.  The cleansing water is making you new, renewing your heart and refreshing your spirit.

 

Now, make sure that your feet are on the bottom of the river, and you and your companion help each other come up out of the water.  Take a deep breath of re-birth.  Feel the air rushing into your lungs.

 

And now hear a voice in the air around you, a voice filled with love, saying, “You are my child.  You are my beloved one.  In you, I take delight.”

 

Rest in that love.  Rest in that feeling of newness.  Slowly let the sights and smells and sounds of the river come back to you.

 

And when you are ready, I invite you to open your eyes again and return to this time and place.

 

And may this love and this rebirth stay with you, and linger in your heart, and bring continual refreshment to your spirit.  Amen.

 

 

An August River
(The Wolastoq – much beloved in this part of the world)
Photo Credit: K. Jones

"Curious Wisdom-Seekers" (sermon)

Two Rivers Pastoral Charge
Sunday January 5, 2025 – Celebration of Epiphany
Scripture – Matthew 2:1-12


Today, we read the familiar story of the magi who traveled afar, following a star, to meet the young child whom they named “King.”  I will say though, that at our “Asking the Big Questions” gathering back in December – the night when we tackled the question of “Why bother with Christmas?” – we discovered that this story maybe isn’t as familiar as people think that it is.  I rather suspect that people are more familiar with the story from either Christmas pageants, or nativity sets, or from the song, “We Three Kings” than they are from Matthew’s account of it.

 

For example, did you notice, as _______ was reading the story, that the number of magi isn’t listed?  All that it says is that wise men, or magi from the East came to Jerusalem.  Tradition has assumed that there were three of them, likely because they present three different gifts, and some traditions have even given the three of them names, but all that Matthew tells us is that they were plural – more than one.  There might have been two of them, or there might have been 200 of them.  We really don’t know.

 

There also aren’t any camels mentioned in the story.  How the magi travelled from their unnamed home in the East we don’t know.

 

And finally, who were these wise ones?  They are not named as kings, despite what the song says, though they acknowledge Jesus as a king.  They did have access to expensive gifts though – gold, frankincense, and myrrh were all precious and valuable items to be giving away.

 

Instead, they are named as magi, which is a direct transliteration from the Greek word used in the original version of Matthew’s gospel.  It’s not a word that we use commonly in English, magi, but it has a couple of close relatives.  Magic.  Magician.  Magical.  Mage (if you are a fan of fantasy games and literature).  But outside of this story, we don’t normally talk about magi in everyday conversation.

 

Were they magicians or sorcerers?  Were they astrologers, studying the movement of the stars to try and determine the effect of the stars on our human lives.  That makes sense, given that they noticed a new star appearing in the sky when nobody else did.

 

I like to think of them as seekers – spiritual seekers – wisdom seekers.  They were curious, they were attuned to the signs, and most importantly, they were willing to put the rubber to the road – well, not literally, because even though we don’t know how they travelled to Jerusalem and on to Bethlehem, it is highly unlikely that it was by motorized vehicle – but they were willing to leave their home, wherever that was, and travel to a foreign land to see more.  They arrived, bearing gifts in expectation of encountering a king, and left, having, perhaps, encountered just a little bit more.

 

I love how Matthew includes their story within the larger story of Jesus, and right here at the very beginning of the story.  Right from the very beginning, Jesus is accessible to everyone, to the whole world.  Everyone who seeks Jesus, finds him.

 

What would the world be like, if everyone could be like those magi, those wise ones, those wisdom-seekers?  What would the world be like if everyone could set aside their certainty and convictions, and be curious instead?  What would the world be like if everyone was both willing and able to follow their curiosity right through to the end?

 

I truly believe that those magi have so much to teach the world, especially the world today as we become more and more entrenched in us-versus-them thinking and ideology, as we become more and more isolated in our silos (in real life and also online) where we only associate with people who think like us.

 

Those wise ones didn’t study the heavens, spot a new star, and say to themselves, “Well, a new star. Let’s record it on our star chart and then return to our watching for the next one to appear.”  Instead, they packed their bags, gathered up their entourage, and set out from their homes to follow where the star led them.

 

When they got to the place where the star stopped, they didn’t say to each other, “Look, another child just like any other child.”  Instead, they somehow recognized that there was something different about this child – something worthy of their worship and their extravagant gifts.

 

And then, when the time came for them to turn around and return home, we’re told that they were warned in a dream not to return to Herod, and rather than brushing the dream off as the result of a bad bit of mutton the night before, they paid attention to the dream, they allowed their journey to be re-shaped as a result of that dream, and they returned home by a different path.

 

And so, I think that my wish for all of us, as we embark on a new year together, is that we all might be more like these magi.  That we all might be spiritual seekers or wisdom seekers.  That we might be curious about the world, and open to having our path through life changed by what we encounter and by what we experience.

 

And most of all, that we might be open enough that we can recognize Christ even in the most unexpected circumstances.  And then, once we have recognized Christ – whether that be in the face of someone we encounter, in the actions that we witness, in a piece of art of music, in a sunset or a moonrise – once we have recognized that we are in the presence of Christ, that we might open our hearts and our lives and pour out our worship.

 

Because I honestly think that the world would be a better place if we could all be curious wisdom-seekers, recognizing the presence of God wherever we go, and opening ourselves up to be changed by the encounter.  The world would be a better place, and our lives would be more richly lived, and so that is my wish for all of us on this threshold of a new year.

 

And may it be so.  Amen.

 

 

“Rising Star, Milky Way”

John Fowler

Used with Permission

2024 in Books

I’m back with my annual summary of my reading from the past 12 months!

Overall, 2024 was a good reading year. Being on Sabbatical for 3 months definitely helped – at one point, I realized that I had 3 books on the go at the same time, something that hasn’t happened in a couple of decades. I’ve always been a reader, but this year my identity as a Reader has felt stronger than it has been in a while.

Starting with the fun stuff – my favourite reads of 2024 (in the order I read them, not in order of preference)!

Demon Copperhead (Barbara Kingsolver)

I listened to this book in February when I went to visit Dad in Ontario – airplane and train listening, as well as hanging out at Dad’s house. This is a book that has won a number of awards, so I probably don’t need to say too much about it – it is a David Copperfield re-telling set in Appalachia in the 80s, 90s, and 2000s. The narrator made the story come alive for me. It’s a “big” book in several senses of the word, but listening to it made it very accessible. I’ve recommended this book (especially the audio version) to a number of people since!

A Rip Through Time (Kelley Armstrong)

Another audiobook – this one I listened to while driving home from a ski vacation in Québec in March.  It is a “time slip” murder mystery where a 21^st century Canadian detective ends up in the body of a Victorian housemaid in Edinburgh. With all of the details of Victorian Edinburgh, the author has definitely done her research, the characters are all 3-dimensional, and the book is funny (as in laugh-out-loud funny at times when listening) as well as gripping.  (Honourable mention to the subsequent books in the series which I have also listened to. Another one is coming out in May, so I’ll be getting my name on the waiting list at the library as soon as it is available!)


Butter Honey Pig Bread (francesca ekwuyasi)

This was a “gym read” for me (I read e-books from the library on the Elliptical), but with a bit more substance than my usual gym reads. And the characters and story have haunted me since I read it back in July. It is a multi-generational story that moves between a mother and her twin daughters. It moves between Nigeria, the UK, and Canada.  There is an element of “magical realism” but it is the characters and their relationships that I loved most of all.



The Secret Chord (Geraldine Brooks)

We have a weekly bible study at the church and are meandering our way through the Old Testament.  Through the later fall months, we began the King David story cycle, and I remembered that an author I had enjoyed previously had written a fictionalized account of the life of King David, so I borrowed this book from the library.  While some of it is a bit gory (I had started to read this book several years ago, and didn’t get past the first couple of pages which are filled with a very vivid battle scene), this time around I stuck with it, and by skipping over the gory sections, it made the stories of King David come alive.


Hymnal (Julia Bell)

This is one of the books of poetry I read this year – it is a memoir in poetry of growing up, faith, and queerness in southern Wales.  I bought this book in Wales in April, and having spent the past couple of years learning Welsh (I finished the Duolingo Cymraeg course in July!), I loved seeing the Welsh words scattered throughout (and being able to understand them without needing to turn to the glossary. The author’s ability to paint a vivid picture with few words grabbed me and didn’t let me put the book down until I came to the last page.


Now moving on to the geeky-fun part of the post – statistics from my reading spreadsheet! Some “big picture” numbers:

Number of books read:  57
Best reading month:  A 3-way tie between February, March, and August (7 books completed in each of those months)

Moving on to some of the other data that I like to track:

Paper Books:  25
E-Books:  24
Audiobooks:  8

Purchased Books:  18
Library Books:  37
Borrowed Books:  1
Gifted Books:  1

Fiction:  47
Non-Fiction:  5
Poetry:  4
Graphic Novel:  1

Re-Reads:  7
First-Time Reads:  50

Canadian Authors:  25
Non-Canadian Authors:  32

Non-White Authors:  8
White Authors:  49

Books with Racial Diversity:  38
Books in an All-White World:  19

Queer Authors:  8
Non-Queer Authors:  49

Books with Explicitly Queer Characters:  29
Books with no Explicitly Queer Characters:  28

Female Authors:  51
Male Authors:  7
(Yes, I know that the numbers here don’t add up – one book I read was an anthology with both male and female authors! I probably could have also increased the number of female authors to 52, as one book was co-written by two women.)

I said last year that I don’t set reading goals, but I did set some reading aspirations for the year.  They were:
1) Read 52 books (1/week) – achieved!
2) Read more queer authors – achieved, but barely (4/37 or 11% in 2023; 8/57 or 14% in 2024)
3) Get through some of the books I’ve already purchased, and continue to support the library, rather than purchasing new books – achieved! I shifted from 54% of my books from the library in 2023 to 65% of my books from the library in 2024; and the majority of the “purchased” books I read in 2024 were previously purchased rather than purchased this year. (My book-buying habits have shifted enough that I discontinued the “paid” level of Chapters/Indigo Plum Rewards this year as I’m no longer buying enough books to make it worthwhile.)

In terms of reading intentions for 2025:
- Even though I won’t be on Sabbatical this year, I’d love to read 52 books again this year, and to hold on to that identity as a Reader
- Read even more queer authors. (11% to 14% wasn’t enough of an improvement for me!)
- Read more non-white authors. (This number slipped from 19% in 2023 to 14% in 2024.)

Wishing all of you happy reading in 2025! (And also – if you have any book recommendations, please throw them into the comments!)

"Birthing God" (sermon)

Two Rivers Pastoral Charge
December 24, 2024 – Christmas Eve
Scripture:  Luke 2:1-20

This is the conclusion of a 4-week (plus Christmas Eve) story-telling series. In week one, Mary told us how the beginning of Jesus’s story ended; in week two she spoke about the beginning of the beginning of his story; in week three she told of her visit to Elizabeth; in week four she spoke of the vision that she had, and the song (Magnificat) she sang about it. Now she tells us of the birth.

 

I treasured all these things, and pondered them in my heart.

 

Now that I’m old, there is so much in my life to treasure, so much that I have to ponder in my heart.  I’ve been telling you some of these things that I treasure – I told you about how I was visited by an angel, a messenger from God-Whose-Name-is-Holy, who told me that I had been chosen to carry and birth and raise the son of God-Whose-Name-is-Holy.  I told you how I said yes, and how the Divine Presence gave me courage even when my knees trembled for fear.  I told you about visiting my kinswoman Elizabeth, who was also expecting an unexpected child.  I told you about how a vision came over me, and I was able to see the world as God-Whose-Name-is-Holy sees the world as it will be some day.

 

There is only one more part of my story that I have left to tell, and that is about the day that my child, the child of God-Whose-Name-is-Holy was born.

 

For our whole lives, we have lived under the threat of Empire, and now the Emperor in Rome decided that there should be a census to make sure that his tax lists were up-to-date.  He wanted to make sure that he wasn’t missing out on any money, I guess.  And because Joseph, my beloved, was a descendent of King David, we had to travel to the city of David, to Bethlehem, to be registered there.

 

As you can imagine, this census caused chaos on the roads. So many families had to travel to their ancestral homes; and the people who didn’t have to travel had houses full of extended family members staying with them.  When I had traveled to visit Elizabeth many months earlier, I had been able to travel quickly, but now that the time was coming close to birthing my baby, I couldn’t walk as quickly as I had then.

 

All-in-all, it took us 10 days to walk from our village of Nazareth to Bethlehem.  When we got there, we searched for Joseph’s relatives for a place to stay, and when we arrived at their home, there were other family members staying in every corner of the house.  But because family is family, and hospitality is the expectation, there is always room for one more!  They found a warm and dry place for us to sleep in the lower level of the house, underneath the living quarters and beside the kitchen, in the place where the animals are kept safe at night. The walls were thick, and the straw was comfortable to rest on after so many days of walking.

 

But we hadn’t been there for very long when I realized that this baby of mine wasn’t going to wait until we got home to Nazareth to be born!  The first pains started that same afternoon that we arrived in Bethlehem.  My mother had told me what to expect, and so I went to Joseph’s cousin and told her what was happening.  This cousin already had two children of her own, and knew where to find the midwife, so she went to fetch her.

 

It was a long night, but the midwife told me that I was doing well as I laboured there in that safe and warm space.  She said that first babies often take a long time, but that I was progressing faster than most first-time mothers.

 

The pains came in waves, but in-between the pains, I remembered all that had happened to me.  A wave of pain, but in the peace that followed I remembered the angel’s visit, and their words to me, “Do not be afraid, for you have found favour with God.”  Another wave of pain, but then I remembered my words to the angel, “Let it be with me, according to your word.”  Another wave of pain, but then I was back on the road, walking to visit Elizabeth last spring, passing fields full of wildflowers.  A wave of pain, but then I remembered feeling Elizabeth’s baby dancing as I pressed my hands to her belly.  A wave of pain, and then I remembered my vision of a world where the hungry are filled with good things, and where the powerful have been brought down from their thrones.

 

All through that long night this went on, with the midwife reassuring and encouraging me, and Joseph pacing in the courtyard outside, sticking his head in frequently to see how I was doing.

 

But then, just before the sun rose, with a final pain and a final push, I delivered my baby at last.  At last, after so many months of waiting, I held this precious and vulnerable infant in my arms, and I knew that I was cradling God-Whose-Name-is-Holy.  The midwife washed him off, and wrapped him snugly. She made sure that I was able to nurse him, then she went on her way with a promise to return later.

 

I had so much to treasure, and to ponder in my heart, not just that day, but every day of my life.

 

All of this happened many, many years ago.  It has been decades since I saw my son crucified, then witnessed his resurrection, then saw him ascend into heaven to be with God-Whose-Name-is-Holy.  I’m an old woman now, and still I treasure, and still I ponder.

 

The group of people who followed my boy when he was alive have continued to gather, have continued to share his stories, have continued to serve the world in the same way that he did, healing and feeding people.  Their leaders are now educated people – more educated than his parents ever were, or the fishermen who were his first followers ever had the opportunity to be.  They have started to write about him – to write letters from one group of followers to another, teaching each other and encouraging each other; and they’ve started to record the stories of his life.  I’m told that they have started to call me “theotokos” – a fancy Greek word that means “God-bearer” or “God-birther” – because I carried this Word-of-God within my body, because I birthed the Holy Child.

 

But I don’t think that I did anything special.  All I did was to listen to the angel, and to say yes to God-Whose-Name-is-Holy’s plan.  And so I wonder if each one of us could be theotokos; I wonder if each one of us carries God-Whose-Name-is-Holy within ourselves, and when we live our lives according to God’s plan’s, I wonder if each one of us is birthing God into the world?

 

I’ve come to the end of my story, but I want to hear your story.  What things to you treasure and ponder in your heart?  And how do you carry God-Whose-Name-is-Holy within yourself?  And how do you birth God-Whose-Name-is-Holy into the world?  For this story isn’t just my story – it is the story of all of us.

 

 

“And the Word Became Flesh”

Frank Wesley

Used with Permission

"I've Already Seen It" (Sermon)

Two Rivers Pastoral Charge
Sunday December 22, 2024 – 4^th Sunday of Advent
Scripture:  Luke 1:39-56

This is the fourth week of a 4-week (plus Christmas Eve) story-telling series. In week one, Mary told us how the beginning of Jesus’s story ended; in week two she spoke about the beginning of the beginning of his story; last week she told of her visit to Elizabeth; her story continues this week

 

Over the past several weeks, I’ve been telling you my story.  I actually started at the end of the story – or at least the end of the beginning of Jesus’s story, when my boy Jesus was executed on a cross, and those of us who were with him wept for the sight of it on that hill outside of Jerusalem.  But then I went back and tried to start my story properly, with the beginning of the beginning of my story, when I was still young, and an angel, a messenger from God-Whose-Name-is-Holy, told me that I had been chosen to carry a Holy Child within my own body, and raise him as my own.

 

I told you that the Divine Presence gave me the courage to say yes, as I trusted that I had the strength of my ancestors behind me; though I thought that it was best to leave Nazareth for a time to visit my kinswoman Elizabeth while my parents managed the consequences of what had happened.

 

Even as I said yes to the angel, my knees trembled for fear underneath my skirt.  I knew that even before I risked losing my life in childbirth, I risked losing my live to stoning if my village found out that I was pregnant before I was married.  And I was almost certain that I never would be married, as my parents were going to have to tell the family of Joseph, my betrothed, what had happened. And even though Joseph had kind eyes, and I had witnessed some of his acts of kindness towards others, I knew that it was not his kindness, but rather the opinion of his family that would have the final word.  And because of the way that inheritance is passed to the eldest child, there is no way that they would want to bring a child not their own into their family.

 

Let me jump ahead a little bit in my story.  I can tell you that when I got home from Elizabeth and Zechariah’s house, I learned that all of my fretting and worry had been for nothing.  My parents had spoken to Joseph’s parents, and eventually word came back to them that the marriage could still go ahead.  Joseph would later tell me that he too had been visited by an angel, and that the angel had told him what had happened to me, and that he, Joseph, was to raise this child as his own; and because Joseph and his family are people who love and fear God-Whose-Name-is-Holy, the marriage hadn’t been called off.  But it was three months before I would learn this news; and many more months after that before Joseph would share his story with me.

 

Now back to where I was in my story.  That first night at Elizabeth and Zechariah’s house, the child that Elizabeth carried in her belly began to dance and leap for joy, so much so that I could almost make out the tiny hands and feet as I pressed my hands to Elizabeth’s belly.

 

And as I felt the dancing beneath my hands, something came over me – something like I’ve never felt before.  A vision came over me.  The closest way that I can describe it would be like standing way up on the hillside looking down on my village from far above; and yet in my vision that day, even though I was at a distance I could see things as clearly as if I was standing right next to them.  And somehow I knew that I was seeing the world as God-Whose-Name-is-Holy sees the world.  The colours were somehow brighter and more vivid than regular colours, and I could see more than one place at once, so many places and times all at the same time.

 

And I began to sing about what I was seeing.  I began by praising the name of God-Whose-Name-is-Holy.  I sang:

My soul magnifies the Lord,

and my spirit rejoices in God my Saviour.

For God has looked with favour on his servant,

and from now on, all generations will call me blessed.

for The Mighty One has done great things for me,

and Holy is God’s name.

 

And then I went on to describe what I saw.  I sang:

God’s mercy is for all of revere God, from generation to generation.

God has sown strength and power.

God has scattered the proud.

God has brought down the powerful from their thrones.

God has lifted up the lowly.

God has filled the hungry with good things.

God has sent the rich away empty.

God has come to the aid of God’s people,

         according to the promises made to all of our ancestors.

 

That day with Elizabeth was the first time I sang that song, but it wasn’t the last time.  I wanted to hold on to that vision, to hold on to those words, so I used to sing it to myself as I went about my day.  And when my baby was born, I sang it to him as a lullaby as I rocked him to sleep.

 

And so when my boy Jesus grew up and began to teach people about God’s vision for the world, I wasn’t surprised to hear him teach things like “the last shall be first and the first shall be last.”  I wasn’t surprised to see him welcoming the most vulnerable and marginalized people.  I wasn’t surprised to see him feeding crowds of hungry people.  Because this is the message that he heard from his mother from before he was even born.

 

And as for me, even when the world feels overwhelming, even when it seems as though the powers of Empire, the powers of Rome, are stronger than anything else in the world, even when it seems like pain and suffering will never end, I remember my song.  And my song reminds me of the vision that I had that day.  And I can never fall into despair because I’ve seen a different world.  I’ve seen the world as God-Whose-Name-is-Holy sees the world, and I’ve seen that some day this vision will have come to be.  I may not live to see the day when hunger has ended, when the powerful Empires have been overturned, when the lowly have been lifted up, but I trust that this day is coming because I’ve already seen it.

 

My story is drawing to a close, but it isn’t over yet.  I stayed with Elizabeth for three months before I returned to my parents and began preparing both to be married and to birth my child.  The last part of the story I’m telling you is about the time when my baby was born, and I do hope that you’ll come back to hear the ending.

 

 

Image:  “Magnificat!”

Lawrence OP on flickr

Used with permission

"Blessed is She" (sermon)

Two Rivers Pastoral Charge
Sunday December 15 – 3^rd Sunday in Advent
Scripture:  Luke 1:39-45

This is the third week of a 4-week (plus Christmas Eve) story-telling series. Two weeks ago, Mary told us how the beginning of Jesus’s story ended; last week she spoke about the beginning of the beginning of his story; her story continues this week

 

Two weeks ago, I told you about my boy Jesus, and how the beginning of his story  ended on a cross on a hill outside of Jerusalem.  Then last week I told you about the beginning of the beginning of his story, about how an angel, a messenger from God-Whose-Name-is-Holy appeared to me and told me that I had been chosen to carry the son of God within my body, then birth him and raise him as my own.

 

I said “yes” to the angel, even though I didn’t know what my future would hold as a result of that “yes.”  But I trusted that God-Whose-Name-is-Holy was with me.

 

And I felt the Holy Presence surrounding me as I told my parents what had happened.  They were upset, as you can well understand.  The punishment for a woman caught in adultery is stoning, and my father told me that even if they believed my story, and it was a big “if,” even if they believed my story, there was no way that they would be able to convince all of the neighbours once it became known that I was expecting a child.  My mother took to her room, ashamed to look at me, and ashamed to be seen by the neighbours.

 

But the Holy Presence gave me courage and filled my heart with peace.  Even if nobody else believed my story, I knew what had happened out there on the hillside.  I treasured the words of the angel in my heart.

 

Now, at this point in my story, I need to tell you about my kinswoman Elizabeth.  She lives a 4-day walk from here with her husband Zechariah, not too far from the holy city of Jerusalem where Zechariah is a priest in the temple of God-Whose-Name-is-Holy.  Elizabeth and Zechariah never had any children, and they were both old – even older than my parents – though not as old as I am now, standing here telling you my story.  But a strange story had reached our ears that Elizabeth was now carrying a child, and Zechariah was no longer able to speak.

 

I was curious to know what had happened.  Elizabeth had always been kind to me when we stayed with them on our way to or from the temple.  It was almost like she was a bonus mother to me, and I was the child that she had never been able to have.

 

I told my parents that I wanted to visit them, and they were still upset and angry with me, and they said to me, “Go!  And if misfortune falls on you on the road, so be it.”  I wasn’t worried – I knew that I was smart and strong and capable of keeping myself safe.  And so I went.

 

I knew that they were going to be speaking to the family of Joseph, my betrothed, while I was gone.  Joseph and his family, they weren’t going to be happy, and the engagement was surely going to be called off.  Maybe it would be better for me to stay away for a couple of months to let the emotions settle down.

 

I was safe on the road, as I knew that I would be.  It was easy walking – I was fortunate not to encounter any rain, but the heat and dust of full summer hadn’t arrived yet.  The weather was starting to warm up, at least in the daytime, and I was able to stay safely with family members each night on the road.  And oh, the flowers.  April is always the loveliest season of the year if you like flowers.  My favourites are the almond tree blossoms, but they had already finished for the year, but the fields that I passed were fully of poppies, and chrysanthemums, and lupines, and wild mustard.

 

When I arrived at Elizabeth’s house, she came running out to greet me. She would have had no way to know that I was coming, but I was welcomed in with literally open arms.  And with one glance at her belly, I knew that the rumours that had reached us were true.

 

There we were, two women, one too old and too barren, the other too young and too unmarried, yet both of us were carrying babies within our bodies.  We were both of us laughing, and yet with tears streaming down our faces, as we embraced each other in front of her house.  For we were both carrying babies made possible by God-whose-name-is-Holy.

 

Elizabeth told me her story as we made our way into their home and sipped at the glasses of wine that were brought to us.  Her husband, Zechariah, had been serving in the temple and was in the Holy of Holies right at the heart of the temple, as close as it is possible to get to God-Whose-Name-Is-Holy.  And when he was there, an angel, a messenger from God-Whose-Name-is-Holy, appeared and told him that they were finally going to have their longed-for child.  But when Zechariah didn’t believe the angel because Elizabeth was too old for this to be possible, the angel took his voice, and he hasn’t said a word since.  He has been moving about the house like a silent ghost ever since.

 

But don’t worry – Elizabeth and I more than made up for Zechariah’s silence!  After she shared her story with me, I shared my story with her, another story about an angel, and we puzzled about what new thing God-Whose-Name-is-Holy might be doing in the world with all of these angels and miracles.  Why, it almost felt like the earth itself was pregnant, and something new was waiting to be born into it.

 

And as we sat there in the courtyard, watching the sun slowly setting, all of a sudden Elizabeth gave a cry that sounded somewhere between terror and delight.  She had told me that she had started to feel her baby moving a few weeks earlier a little bit like the feeling of you get after a good meal; but now she grabbed my arm and placed my hand on my belly.  Underneath my hand, I felt her baby dancing – I swear, I could almost make out tiny hands and feet.

 

And with my hand on her belly, Elizabeth began to sing.  She sang:

Blessed are you among women!

Blessed is the fruit of your womb!

And why has this happened to me,

         that the mother of my Lord comes to me?

Even my child in my womb leaps for joy!

And blessed is she who trusted in the Lord.

 

We had so much to ponder, Elizabeth and I, as we sat together in her courtyard and as the darkness gathered and the night embraced us – the words of the angels, the words of her song, the miracles unfolding around us.  But there is still more to tell, and her song wasn’t the last song to be sung that day.  I had a song inside of me to sing, and I want to tell you about that song. My story isn’t over yet!

 

 

“Visitation”

Church of St. Elizabeth, El Sitio, El Salvador

Used with permission