26 December 2021

"The Light of the World" (Christmas Eve Sermon)

This year, in Advent and Christmas, we are doing things a little bit differently - instead of a more traditional "sermon," each week our reflection is going to take the form of story-telling, told from the perspective of someone who was waiting for Jesus.

 

Two Rivers Pastoral Charge

December 24, 2021 – Christmas Eve

Scripture:  Luke 2:1-20

 

 

I’m an old woman now, but I still remember that night, so many years ago.

 

I’m an old woman now, but I was a young girl when that angel appeared to me and told me that God-whose-name-is-holy had chosen me to carry and birth God’s son.

 

I’ve always loved being in the presence of God-whose-name-is-holy. Even when I was a child, I loved going to the synagogue with my mother, and leaning up against her as our elders and rabbis told stories about how God created the heavens and the earth, as they told stories about how much God loves people, as they told stories about how God has been with us always, as they taught us that we are to love God with our whole heart and soul and might, as they taught us that we are to love our neighbours as ourselves.

 

But I also loved being in the presence of God-whose-name-is-holy when I was out in God’s creation – out in the fields and on the hills and beside the big lake.  When I was a very little girl, I used to go out with my aunties and cousins; and even when I was a bit older and my mother needed my help around the house, I used to find a way to slip away from her.  I always felt closest to God when the water was lapping at my feet, the sun was shining down on me, and the scent of flowers was carried on the wind.

 

That day when the angel appeared, I was out there on the hills.  I didn’t know how much longer I was going to be able to escape outside – my parents and Joseph’s parents had arranged for us to be married, and soon I was going to have a house and a family of my own to tend to.

 

But there I was, bare feet on the grass and the wind bowing in my hair, when suddenly an angel stood in front of me.  You know, no matter how many times I’ve tried, I can’t quite remember what that angel looked like.  What I do remember was how I felt.  I felt scared because I knew that this wasn’t a part of the world I could see and touch, but at the same time I felt awe and wonder, and I knew that whoever this being was, they loved me.  Love just radiated out from them.

 

The angel spoke to me.  The rabbis at the synagogue told me that it must have been the angel Gabriel, God’s messenger.  Gabriel spoke and told me not to be afraid.  And Gabriel told me that God loved so so very deeply.  And Gabriel told me that God had chosen me to carry and give birth to God’s son, if only I would agree to do so.

 

You can only imagine what I was feeling in that moment.  No matter what he said, I was still a bit afraid of Gabriel, but it was more like the awe that you feel in front of something that you don’t quite understand, but that you know is holy.  I was also afraid of my parents and Joseph – what were they going to say?  But I also knew that God loved me, and that God has always protected God’s people.  I was ready to do what God asked me to do.  And so I said to that angel, “Here am I, the servant of God-whose-name-is-holy. Let it be with me according to your word.”

 

From that beautiful moment on the hillside, I had to go tell my parents, then they had to tell Joseph’s parents.  At first, they were going to break our engagement, and I started to ponder raising this child alone, and how I was going to have to love this baby enough for two parents.  But then all of a sudden the engagement was back on again.  Joseph told me later that an angel had appeared to him too, and told him that he had been chosen to be the father of the son of God-whose-name-is-holy.

 

I felt safer after that, knowing that I was going to be married to a person who also loved and respected God-whose-name-is-holy.

 

The months passed, and my belly grew bigger.  I felt the baby start to move inside me.  I sang the baby inside me the same songs that my mother had sung to me.  I told the baby inside me the same stories about God that I had heard in the synagogue.  That baby was loved for many moons before he was born.

 

Then, just when I thought that my belly couldn’t possibly stretch any bigger, we had to make a journey from Nazareth where we lived to Bethlehem.  There was to be a census – a counting of the people – I don’t know why we had to be counted, since we are all known to God-whose-name-is-holy, and surely that is the only perspective that really matters.  But because Joseph was descended from King David, who was descended from Judah, son of Jacob, we had to travel from Galilee south to the land of Judah, to the city of Bethlehem in order to be counted.

 

It was a long journey of many days; and when we got there, the town was so busy with so many people who had traveled from so many different places to be counted.  We finally found a place to sleep, and it was the place where the animals also sleep.  There were so many people coming and going, but this place, surrounded by donkeys and cows – it was like an oasis of peace.

 

And then there, in that strange city in a dark night, it as time for my baby to be born.  There was a sudden pain, and the waters that my mother told me about came, and Joseph went out to fetch a midwife.  Then there was more pain… so much pain… but then it was over.  And there was a little scrap of a baby, shrieking his lungs out at the shock of the air.  I know that your songs like to say, “The Little Lord Jesus, no crying he makes,” but believe you me, he was every bit of a real baby who cried, and who needed to be nursed, and who wet his nappies.

 

But at the same time, there was also something… I can’t quite put my finger on it… but somehow that night had shifted.  It was almost as if a light beam had broken through the ceiling, even though I know that was impossible.  But somehow, I knew that everything in the world had changed in that moment.  The light of my world had been born… the light of the whole world had been born.

 

And as I looked into the eyes of my baby – into the eyes of God-whose-name-is-holy – my heart broke open, and I fell even more in love with him than I ever thought was possible.

 

 

“Lumen Christi”

Eustaquio Santimano

From the Church of St. Mary of the Angels in Singapore

Used with permission.

19 December 2021

"The Light of Love" (sermon)

This year, in Advent and Christmas, we are doing things a little bit differently - instead of a more traditional "sermon," each week our reflection is going to take the form of story-telling, told from the perspective of someone who was waiting for Jesus.

 

Two Rivers Pastoral Charge

Sunday December 19, 2021 – 4th Sunday of Advent

Scripture Reading:  Matthew 1:18-25

 

 

I have always been a dreamer.  Even though I can trace my family tree back to Judah, the son of Jacob, everyone always told me that I was more like Judah’s brother Joseph – the dreamer.  I was named after that Joseph… maybe there is something to be said for the power of a name!

 

I have always been a dreamer.  I spend my days working as a carpenter – working with my hands on the stones and the wood – but even as my hands work, my imagination wanders far away from the place where my hands were working.

 

I dream of many things as I work.

 

I imagine the stories of our ancestors, as if they were really happening – the story of Joseph, my namesake, and how he ended up as a slave in Egypt who rose to power, and the story of how he rescued Judah, my ancestor, and the rest of their family when a time of famine came.

 

I dream of the story of Moses, and how Moses encountered God-whose-name-is-holy in the middle of the desert, speaking to him out of a burning bush, and how God-whose-name-is-holy told Moses to take off his shoes since he was standing on holy ground, and how God-whose-name-is-holy told Moses that he would be the one to deliver the people from slavery.

 

I also dream of more practical things too.  I used to dream about how some day I would have a family of my own, and how I would love them, and how I would provide from them by the work of my hands.

 

And then one day, that dream seemed to be coming true.  My parents came to me, and told me that they had made arrangements with Mary’s parents, and that Mary and I were going to be married.

 

I didn’t know Mary very well, but I knew who she was.  I had seen her at the synagogue, listening carefully to the rabbi tell stories.  I had seen her slipping away from her mother to wander across the fields.  I suspected that she might be a bit of a dreamer, just like me, and I trusted our parents when they said that they thought that we would be a good match. And so I agreed to the engagement.

 

But it was only a few weeks after that, when Mary’s parents came to my parents with the news.  Somehow Mary had fallen pregnant.  We hadn’t even had a chance to be alone together, so I knew that the baby couldn’t be mine.  She had told them some story about how an angel told her that it was God’s child, but we all knew that she tended to wander the hillside alone, so who knows what had befallen her on one of those wanderings.

 

My parents and I agreed that it was best to end the engagement.  We didn’t want to entangle our family with a family like that.

 

But I told you that I’m a dreamer, didn’t I?  Most nights, I dream ordinary dreams just like you or anyone else.  But occasionally – very occasionally – I have a dream that I know is different.  These dreams feel more real than the real world around me.

 

And just a few nights after we got the news about Mary, I had one of those dreams.  In that dream, an angel appeared to me, but I can’t describe for you what the angel looked like. I couldn’t see the angel because my eyes were completely dazzled by the light that surrounded the angel.  But I heard the angel say to me that we weren’t to break the engagement.   I was to take Mary as my wife, and raise the child that she was going to birth as if he was my own son.  I had been chosen the be the father of the son of God-whose-name-is-holy.

 

When I woke from that dream, I knew what I had to do.  I was being called to care for Mary, so that she could do what God-whose-name-is-holy was calling her to do.  It was hard to convince my parents – they don’t understand my dreams – but in the end they saw that I wasn’t going to be swayed.

 

Over the months that followed, Mary and I got to know each other better.  She started spending her days in my workshop watching me work with the wood and the stone, and when she went away to visit her kinswoman Elizabeth, I was surprised at how much I missed her.  The duty that the angel had given me to love and care for her had started to become something deeper.

 

The months passed, and then we had to travel to Bethlehem for the census.  I didn’t know how Mary was going to make it, with her belly grown so large, but she is so much stronger than she might appear.  And there, on that dark night, the baby came.

 

I can’t describe how I felt.  I went running to fetch a midwife, and it took me longer than I could have imagined, in that unfamiliar city.  As I heard Mary’s cries, I fully realized how much I had come to love her, and I didn’t know what I would do if I lost her.  There was so much crying, and so much blood, but then it was all over.

 

Mary was safe, and the baby was safe.  The midwife cleaned him off, and Mary nursed him, and he fell asleep.

 

Later, that dark night, when the baby began to fuss, I got up to fetch him from the manger where he was lying and bring him to Mary.

 

And when I bent over and looked into his eyes, there in the darkened room, I saw that same dazzling light that had surrounded the angel there in the eyes of that baby.  And I knew that I would do anything I could to protect him forever and ever.

 

 

(I tried really hard to find the creator of this image, without success.

I love how it portrays the reality of the exhaustion that this new family

must have felt that night. Thank you, anonymous creator!

And if anyone knows who the creator is, please let me know in the

comments so that I can credit them.)


12 December 2021

"Stepping Out Into Joy" (sermon)

This year, in Advent and Christmas, we are doing things a little bit differently - instead of a more traditional "sermon," each week our reflection is going to take the form of story-telling, told from the perspective of someone who was waiting for Jesus.

 

 

Two Rivers Pastoral Charge

Sunday December 12, 2021 – 4th Sunday of Advent

Scripture Reading:  Luke 1:5-25, 39-45

 

 

For so many years, it felt like I was living my life in a deep cave.

 

It wasn’t always that way.  My parents named me Elizabeth which means “God is my oath.”  They knew that I belonged to God-whose-name-is-Holy, and they taught me right from when I was little that God-whose-name-is-Holy loved me.

 

I remember when I was a young girl – that seems like a lifetime ago – I used to dance and sing rather than walking and talking.  My feet always felt like they were flying, as they tried to keep up with my heart.

 

Because my parents knew that I belonged to God-whose-name-is-Holy, when it was time for me to be married, they arranged a marriage with Zechariah, one of the priests who served at the temple.  I still remember that first day when we met… marriages are a solemn affair, and so I was keeping my eyes turned down as is proper, but at one point I dared to look up and our eyes met from across the room.  Even though his face stayed still, there was a sparkle in his eye that told me that his heart was the sort of heart that could dance and sing too.

 

It was a good marriage.  We respected each other and we enjoyed being in each other’s company.  But with each month, with each year that passed and we weren’t blessed with children, it became harder and harder.  My feet didn’t dance any more.  My voice didn’t sing any more.  And worst of all, my heart stopped dancing and singing too.

 

We sought out healers – the sort of healers that women in every village know how to find.  They all suggested different things we could try – different teas we could brew and drink, different amulets we could place under our bed.  But none of them worked.  And with each failed attempt, it felt like I was being dragged further and further into that dark cave.  It felt like I was being buried even though I was still alive.

 

The years passed, until I was long past the age when I could expect to begin a family.  I was existing, but I wasn’t really living.

 

But then the day came… it was one of our high holy days, and Zechariah was away serving in the temple in Jerusalem.  He told me about what happened later – I wasn’t there to witness it, and as you’ll hear, he wasn’t able to tell me about it right away.

 

Zechariah was serving in the temple, and when he entered the Holy of Holies, the angel Gabriel was there.  The angel told Zechariah that our prayers had finally been answered, and that we were going to have our child at last.  It was going to be a son, and we were to name him John, and he was going to have the power of Elijah, the power of the prophets in our history, and he was going to prepare the way of the Lord.

 

Zechariah is a practical man, and he knows how old I am, and so he didn’t believe what the angel told him, and because of his disbelief, the angel took away his voice.  For ten months, he wasn’t able to say a single word.

 

When he came home, he tried to explain to me, without words, what had happened, but I didn’t believe the angel either.  And when my body first started showing signs of the baby I was carrying, I didn’t believe my body either.  You know how it is with women when we reach a certain age… we can’t trust anything that our bodies tell us.  My monthly bleeding had long ago become unpredictable, and my size and shape was shifting as I moved into old age.  I was more likely to be dying at my age, than to be carrying a child.

 

And I was prepared to die.  I had spent so many years living with a heavy heart in the darkness, that death felt like it would be a release.

 

But then the day came when my young kinswoman Mary came to visit me.  Here we were, two women, one too old and too barren to be carrying a child, and the other too young and too unmarried to be carrying a child.  And yet here we were.

 

And as she entered my room, I felt the baby I carried within me give a kick.  I felt the baby give a leap of joy.  And finally, it felt like there might actually be a new life growing inside of me.

 

And with that kick, my song returned to me.  I sang out to Mary, “blessed are you among women, an blessed is the fruit of your womb! And why has this happened to me, that the mother of my Lord comes to me?  For as soon as I heard the sound of your greeting, the child in my womb leaped for joy.  And blessed is she who believed that there would be a fulfillment of what was spoken to her by the Lord.”

 

And as I sang, and as Mary joined in with my song, it felt as though I was leaving my cave at last and stepping out into the bright sunlight.  It felt as though my heart and my voice and my feet could sing and dance again.

 

And when the time came, our baby was born, and we named him John, and he did indeed live a life that was focused on pointing people towards God-whose-name-is-Holy, and for preparing the way of his younger cousin, Mary’s boy.

 

And for as long as we will live, Zechariah and I will continue to sing of the dawn that breaks upon us, and gives light to everyone who sits in sorrow and shadows.

 

 

“Visitation”

From the Church of St. Elizageth / San Isabel (El Sitio, El Salvador)

Photograph by John Donaghy

Used with Permission

5 December 2021

"Re-born to a New Way" (Sermon)

This year, in Advent and Christmas, we are doing things a little bit differently - instead of a more traditional "sermon," each week our reflection is going to take the form of story-telling, told from the perspective of someone who was waiting for Jesus.

 

 

Two Rivers Pastoral Charge

Sunday December 5, 2021 – Second Sunday of Advent

Scripture Reading – Luke 3:1-18

 

My name is Deborah bat Ya’akov.  Don’t go looking for me in that book that you read from every week – you’re not going to find me in its pages.  But I was there.  I was there by the River Jordan.  I met this man, this John that you read about.  I listened to what he had to say, and I was baptized by him, right there in the river.

 

My family lived in Jerusalem, the biggest city that I have ever seen.  But even there in the city, we had heard about John.  We heard that crowds of people were going out to listen to him.  We heard that he was saying amazing things.  It has been so many years since God-Whose-Name-Is-Holy had sent a prophet to our people, we thought that maybe John might finally be the one.

 

And so we decided that we too would make the journey from Jerusalem to hear him for ourselves.  My parents and my two younger brothers and I prepared for the journey and we set out.  From Jerusalem we headed north and east to Jericho, and then from Jericho we continued east until we reached the river where John was preaching.  It seemed like half of the city of Jerusalem was heading to the river to hear John speak!  All along the way, we kept meeting families we know.

 

It took us a couple of days to reach the river – with my younger brothers, we couldn’t travel too quickly.  But when we got to the river, it wasn’t hard to find John, because there were crowds of people around him.  But there was John, standing up to his waist in the river, with the sunlight sparkling off the ripples and waves that surrounded him.

 

But whenever John started to speak, it was easy to hear him because people quieted right down.  My first thought when I saw him was that he was Elijah, one of our prophets from hundreds of years ago.  The scroll of Kings that is read in the synagogues and in the temple tells us that Elijah wore clothes made of hair and had a leather belt around his waist; and here was John wearing clothes made of camel hair with a leather belt around his waist.

 

I started to wonder if this John person was really Elijah, returned to earth.  After all, Elijah never died, but was carried off in a whirlwind to be with God-Whose-Name-Is-Holy.  And the prophet Malachi wrote on his scroll, “Lo, I will send you the prophet Elijah before the great and terrible day of the Lord comes.”

 

For longer than I’ve been alive, for almost 100 years, our land has been governed by the emperor in Rome rather than by our own people.  And yes, people talk about the “pax romana,” the Roman Peace, but it isn’t really peace.  There isn’t any war these days, but that doesn’t mean much since everyone is living in fear.  If you dare to disagree with the rulers, you will be put into prison or worse.  And there are always rumblings of revolt underneath the so-called peace.

 

But people are talking that maybe God-Whose-Name-Is-Holy is going to send a Messiah to us – an anointed one – anointed like a king – anointed to free us from Rome and free us from the fear that we are living with every day.  If John is really Elijah come back to earth, then this Messiah might be coming next, and then maybe God-Whose-Name-Is-Holy will come to earth!

 

My family and I, we listened to John.  He kept saying that he wasn’t the Messiah; that he wasn’t the one we were waiting for.  But he did tell us that we were to get ready.  He told us that we had to change our ways; that we had to turn back to God-Whose-Name-Is-Holy.  He told us that another one was coming, someone even more powerful than he.  He said that he, John, wasn’t worthy to serve this one who is coming – not fit to be a servant who unties and ties his sandals.

 

Even now, telling you about it, I can feel the fire of his speaking running through me.  I so long for God-Whose-Name-Is-Holy to come to earth, I was willing to change anything, to do anything.  And so I made my way to the front of the crowd, and John asked me if I was ready to repent, to change my heart and mind, to turn back to God-Whose-Name-Is-Holy.  I said “yes!”  I wanted to shout it from the mountaintops!  Yes!  And so I went with the people who were being baptized, and John pushed me under the water, and it was like I was re-born to this new way of living and being.

 

I wonder what God-Whose-Name-Is-Holy has planned for us?  John didn’t tell us how long we were going to have to wait.  He just said that this mighty and glorious one is coming after him.

 

Ever since that day, John has started talking more about this one coming after him.  He calls this one “the light.”  I don’t know what he means by that.  He says that he himself is not “the light” but he has come to tell us about “the light.”

 

I wonder if this light is God-Whose-Name-Is-Holy?  In the beginning, God-Whose-Name-Is-Holy said, “let there be light” and there was light.

 

For now, I’ve told my family that I am going to stay with John and this group of people who are with him.  I want to wait and see who this one to come after him is going to be.  And while I’m waiting, I’ve started telling people around me about this one who is coming; this one whom John is calling “the light.”  I’m so excited about this that I can’t keep it to myself – I have to share it too!

 

Won’t you wait with me?  Won’t you join our group of people who are waiting for the light to come into the world?  Won’t you help me to spread the good news about the light?  John says that the light is coming – let’s wait together!

 

 

“John the Baptist Preaching in the Desert”
JESUS MAFA
Used with Permission.