tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-70551865609401179542024-03-12T21:31:50.306-04:00Sermons of a Canadian ChurchmanUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger166125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7055186560940117954.post-91448293793709183272016-11-15T12:35:00.001-05:002016-11-15T12:35:56.530-05:00The Work of Civilization - A Homily for Proper 33, Year C, 2016<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0in; text-align: center;">
<b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">A Homily for Proper 33, Year C, 2016<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Sunday, November 13<sup>th</sup>, 2016<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">St. Paul’s Anglican Church, Newmarket, ON<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">Text: Isaiah 65:17-25<o:p></o:p></span></b></div>
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<b><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></b></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">“For I am
about to create new heavens and a new earth.”<o:p></o:p></span></i></div>
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<i><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><br /></span></i></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;">The
prophet Isaiah speaks about the creation of a New Jerusalem. This is a vision
of hope, a vision of joy, a vision of a new and just world, in which the evils
of this age are swept away. The church
continues to proclaim this hope from age to age, even as the kingdoms of this
world rise and fall. And so it is
perhaps appropriate that we should hear about God’s promise of a New Jerusalem
this week, as for some of us, that reality seems to be farther away than ever.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"> I shall not mince words, nor shall I
cloke or dissemble my disappointment and fear following the outcome of the
American election. I am not rejoicing,
although I know there are many that are. I have been challenged more than once
this week by individuals who have suggested what has happened in America is
actually a good thing - a great thing. I
hope they are right, but I fear that they are not. When I see a man come to
power who has consistently spoken using racist, xenophobic, misogynistic
language, who clearly has little respect for the laws of the land or for the
most vulnerable who walk amongst us, I think we have cause to fear. What I have heard from him so far, is so far
from my understanding of the Christian gospel, that I cannot simply acquiesce
to the admonition to “get behind him” and “give him a chance.” You may very well think differently from me,
and I have no doubt that those who do will be more than happy to call me to
task. I thank God that we actually live
in a society where that can happen. I
hope and pray that we will continue to live in such a world, but I do have my
fears.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"> But the pulpit is not a place for
fear, it is place from which hope is proclaimed. Yet, it is also a place in
which truth must be proclaimed, and in which truth must be proclaimed to power.
So, it is incumbent upon me as your priest to warn that there may be dark days
ahead. After the election, clergy
friends began posting a meme on Facebook, which said that we should not worry
or lament because “God is still on his throne.” Of course this is true, God still is on his
throne, but another one of my colleagues was quick to remind us that God was on
his throne through genocides and wars, too.
As Christian people, we have a solemn and sacred call not to bury our
heads in the sand, not to follow blindly the hysteria of the masses, but to
name what is wrong and speak truth to power.
I cannot easily pass over the sabre rattling, the misogynistic comments,
the bragging of sexual assault, the bravado about banning and deporting whole
religious communities, as “campaign rhetoric” and blindly trust that “all shall
be well.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"> We cannot simply sit back and hope
that things shall get better, or that they will smooth themselves out. When a bully takes command of the playground,
it is amazing how many other bullies come out of the playground and find
strength in numbers. I was bullied as a
child. Trust me. The times I am least proud of, though, is when I countered
violence with violence. I’ve tried it
more than once. In despair I have thrown a punch in the school yard, I have
adopted the bully’s tactics, and it has almost always been the wrong
approach. I have either found myself
punished, ended up flat on the ground, or been deeply disappointed in
myself. There must be a better way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-size: 14.0pt;">Upon my shelf sits a multi-volume
history of civilization, inherited from my paternal grandfather,</span><span class="apple-converted-space"><span style="background: white; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;"> </span></span><em><span style="background: white; font-family: "arial" , sans-serif; font-size: 14pt;">The History
of Civilization</span></em><span style="background: white; font-size: 14.0pt;">, by
Will Durant. Toward the opening of his first volume, he writes: “Civilization
is not something inborn or imperishable; it must be acquired anew by every
generation.” I believe this with all my
heart. God sets before each generation
the choice found in the Book of Deuteronomy 30:19, “This day I call the heavens
and the earth as witnesses against you that I have set before you life and
death, blessings and curses. Now choose life, so that you and your children may
live.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-size: 14.0pt;">But what does it mean to choose
life? I think for many, choosing life is
a selfish thing. It is not an urge to
create a civilization, but an urge to get the best for me and for me
alone. It is an urge that says “to hell
with the other guy, he has had his day, let him feel my pain for awhile, while
I’m on top.”<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-size: 14.0pt;">Several weeks ago I attended the
Aurora prayer breakfast. The speaker was
a woman named Marina Nemet, a survivor of torture in post-revolutionary Iran.
As a teenage girl she was taken into custody for associating with the wrong
sorts of people and tortured for several years. She was eventually forced to
marry her torturer. What she discovered
after he had died, from his mother, the mother of the man who tortured her, was
that he had been tortured by the Shah’s regime.
When the transfer of power came, the instruments of torture were simply
handed from regime to regime, and the tortured became the torturer. Ms. Nemet spoke of how easy it would have
been for her to pick up the weapons of torture, and how great that urge
remains, but to this day she has not. She has chosen another way. A better way.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-size: 14.0pt;">A great segment of people in America
have felt marginalized for a long time.
I am not here to question the validity of this claim – what they feel is
what they feel. Our history is filled
with marginalization. There are now
winners in the battle for who has been marginalized the most. Trump has given voice to the anger and rage
that is felt by many, justly or unjustly, and with that rage now un-bottled, we
should be very worried about where that rage will lead. I am worried because the instinct of one who
is marginalized is often not to build a better world, but to inflict pain on
the ones who we perceive have hurt and marginalized us. Where in the Gospel are we called to live
this way? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-size: 14.0pt;">It is my firm conviction that we must
doggedly resist the dehumanizing instincts of our day; instincts that seek to
destroy our civilization rather than build it up. We must call out words and deeds of racism,
misogyny, homophobia, xenophobia and all other forms of dehumanization. We must resist the false doctrine that all
will be set right if we just sit back and let history take its course. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-size: 14.0pt;">If we believe in the kingdom of God,
if we believe that it is truly breaking through, then we must live our kingdom
values today. We must not wait for the moment when the time is once again
right. That day never comes. We must not
go into hiding as Christian people, but cast the light of the Gospel into the dark
corners of this age through our faith and witness. We must seek and serve
Christ in our neighbour, respect the dignity of every human being, strive to
preserve God’s creation in the midst of the great onslaught that is put upon
it. We must be reflective of our own behaviour, and contrite, remorseful, and
repent when we lose our way. We must never cease coming together and breaking
bread around this table, the Lord’s table, recalling who died for us, and for
the world; recalling who rose for us, and for the world; remembering that we
are not simply individuals seeking our own good, but one great family seeking
the common good of all. If we believe in
the kingdom of God, if we believe that it is truly breaking through, then we
must live those kingdom values today! We
must live as though Christ were standing amongst us in this moment. And would
he tolerate any one of us denigrating the other to build ourselves up? Could
any of us stand in the presence of God and speak the horrible rhetoric we have
heard in these last days. God forbid it.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-size: 14.0pt;">There is a better way. That way is
the way of the cross. It is the way of
self-giving love. It is the way of putting the needs of the other above my own
for the greater good and for the kingdom.
God himself led that way. God himself chose death that we might have
life, not life that we might die. Ponder that. The almighty put himself on the
cross. He didn’t have to. He did it because he loves us, believes in us, and
has a hope for what he has created. <i>God has a hope for us</i>. He hopes in us.
He believes in us enough to die for us. Will we be worthy of that hope? Will be
worthy of our call? Let us do the work of creating and building a civilization
worthy of the hope and trust that our Lord has placed in us.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-size: 14.0pt;">Let us keep faith, then, with the one
who died, and lived again, that all people might be called friends and not
enemies; brothers and sisters and not strangers; beloved, not hated; precious,
not reviled. Through His grace may we love each other as He has loved us. His
love alone, the love that laid down its life for us, can cut through our prejudice,
hatred, and anger… search your conscience. Is it not so?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<span style="background: white; font-size: 14.0pt;">After fifty years of chronicling the
history of Civilization, Will Durant stated his final lesson, gleaned from all his
amassed learning: “Love one another. My final lesson of history is the same as
that of Jesus.”</span><span style="font-size: 14.0pt;"><o:p></o:p></span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: normal; text-indent: .5in;">
<span style="background: white; font-size: 14.0pt;">May it be so. Come, Lord Jesus.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
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<br /></div>
Daniel Graveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14152198947419055272noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7055186560940117954.post-15253842943133293932015-12-24T19:45:00.000-05:002015-12-24T22:13:59.982-05:00The People Who Walked in Darkness - A Homily for Christmas Eve, 2015<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin-bottom: .0001pt; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b>Christmas Eve, Year C, 2015<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b>Thursday, December 24<sup>th</sup>, 2015<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b>Trinity Anglican Church Bradford, ON<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b>The Rev. Daniel F. Graves<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b>Text: Isaiah 9:2<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<br /></div>
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“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.” The prophet Isaiah foretold a time when the
yoke of the burden of the people would be lifted and the rod of the oppressor would be broken. The people in Isaiah’s time
dared to dream that it would be so. And to
shepherds abiding in the fields, to a young couple from Nazareth, to the people
of Judea who struggled under the yoke of the oppressor, could they believe it
would be so? In the birth of this tiny
babe, had the rod of the oppressor been broken, had the yoke of oppression been
lifted? Only time would tell, for while
that child rested in the manger, he was still but a child, and what can a
little child do to break the rod of the oppressor and lift the yoke that
burdens the oppressed?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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However, we ought to listen carefully to what Isaiah says. Does he
say that the people who walked in darkness <i>will</i>
see a great light? No! His proclamation
is a bold one: that they <i>have</i> seen a
great light. For Isaiah, the Lord of
hosts is ever with us. And so it was in
Bethlehem, too. At the birth of this
blessed babe, the angels did not announce what was to come, but what had
happened. Unto you is born THIS day, in
the city of David, a saviour which IS Christ the Lord. The shepherds did not go to Bethlehem to see
a thing that was about to take place, but rather, to see this thing which the
Lord has done! <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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The birth in time of the timeless Son of God is the moment
in history in which God acts definitively and decisively to break the rod of
the oppressor, to destroy the yoke of the oppressed. In the birth in time of the timeless Son of
God it is done, the rest of the ministry of Jesus is the working out of all
that has already come to pass. There is
no going back to oppression. There is no going back to slavery. There is no going back to darkness. The people who walked in darkness have seen a great
light, on them the light has dawned. </div>
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<br /></div>
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The birth in time of the timeless Son of God is the dawn of
a new day, a day that ever lies open before us.
Even the day, though, must come to an end. But thanks be to God that he has given us the
victory in Christ Jesus. When the night
seems to fall upon us again, when the darkness of death seeks to overcome us
and oppress us, when it seeks once again to make us its slave, then Christ
himself goes into the darkness, into the land of deepest darkness, on the
cross, to the grave, and shines his radiance into the darkest places. No
darkness will stand against his light.
Darkness is not darkness in your presence, O Lord.</div>
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<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light,
those who dwelled in a land of deep darkness, on them the light has shone. To shepherds in the field, on a night covered
by cold and darkness, a light shone forth.
In the midst of darkness, the heavens opened to them. On a dark night they were surrounded by the
glory of God, and heaven filled the earth with its presence. It was such an
unusual and unexpected sight that they were sore afraid, terrified. Sometimes we seem to dwell in such deep
darkness that darkness becomes what is normal for us. Sometimes the darkness becomes so normal,
that we bristle at the light. The light
surprises us, frightens us, astonishes us. But from the light comes the voice, “Fear
not, I bring you good news! Tidings of Joy!”
Fear not, the light brings joy, the light brings hope, the light brings
peace. And as fast as the light can
move, so joy, hope and peace are upon us. They are not something that is merely
on the way, they are have arrived.
Christ is born. The Light has arrived, and with it has come our salvation
from the darkness. Darkness shall never overcome it.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Wise men, seeking hope looked into the darkness of the night
sky. When you consider the darkness of the
night, the depths of blackness that the night sky holds, what a marvel it is
that amongst all the blackness, they saw the light that was dawning. In the
deep, dark night sky, wise men from the East, caught a glimpse of the
light. It was a star that must have
begun its life millions of years before they had ever seen it. It had begun its
work of shining in the darkness long before men walked upon the face of the
earth. Is this not so with the ways of
God? We cry out, “where are you God?” and “Show me your light?” But has God not been present from before the
foundation of the world? Has his light not shone from time immemorial? When we stare into the darkness what do we
see? Does the darkness overwhelm
us? Or can we catch a glimpse of the light? And shall we follow it?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And that’s just what the people in our Christmas stories
did. The shepherds got up, and went, not
slowly, not lingering, but with haste, and sought out what had already taken
place, sought out the one who was born not to become king of the Jews, but the
one who was king before he was ever born.
That was why Herod feared him so much.
The Shepherds went with haste, and they found him, already born, already
in their midst, lying in the manger. And
their lives changed forever.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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The magi, the wise men, left their home in the east, and
made the long journey, perhaps even a couple of years, and found the child and
his parents. They offered their gifts, not only gifts of Gold, Frankincense and
Myrrh, but the gift of themselves. And
when they went home, they went not the way they came, but by another road. I have often thought that there is another
meaning to this phrase. The early Christians were first known as “the people of
the road”, or “the people of the way”. To go another way, means to follow a new
path, a new road. Their lives were changed forever, for they recognized God in
their midst in the Christ child. Their lives forever followed another road.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Think of the nativity sets we build and make. There is Mary and Joseph. There are
shepherds. There are wise men. But if
your set is at all like ours, there is always room to grow. Our set has villagers, wanderers, perhaps you
might even have a little drummer boy coming to worship Jesus. I have seen some nativity sets in which the
stable seems to be surrounded by a whole village that is taken in by the birth
of the babe. It is a far sight from that
lonely stable. And so it should be. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Friends, we are continuing to build that nativity set this
Christmas, with every generation of new worshippers, new Christians come and
fall down before the manger on this holy night.
At this time of year, when the days are short and nights are long. When
we seem enveloped in a great darkness, a deep darkness; when the world seems
shrouded not only in the darkness of night, but the darkness of evil, there is
good news. A Son has been born to
us. The news is not that he will be
born, but that he has been born. The people who walked in darkness have seen a
great light. The news is not that we will see a great light, but that we have
seen a great light. So, as the angels
proclaimed long ago, as the appointed messenger on this Christmas I proclaim to
you now, and again, “Fear not, I bring you tidings of great joy, which shall be
for all people. For unto you is born this day, in the city of David, a Saviour
which is Christ the Lord.” Let us go
then, with haste, and see this thing which the Lord has done. <o:p></o:p></div>
Daniel Graveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14152198947419055272noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7055186560940117954.post-66141966473208139062015-02-22T09:05:00.001-05:002015-02-22T09:05:42.059-05:00From Unworthiness to Holy Service: A homily for Lent 1, 2015<div class="MsoNormalCxSpFirst">
<b>Homily for Lent 1, Year B, 2015<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<b>Sunday, February 22<sup>nd</sup>, 2015<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<b>Trinity Anglican Church, Bradford, ON<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<b>The Rev. Daniel F. Graves<o:p></o:p></b></div>
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<b>Text: 1 Peter 3:18-22</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
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<i>“Christ suffered for sins once for all.”</i> – 1 Peter
3:18<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I think one of the great struggles people have
with God is they wonder how an all-powerful God who created the entire cosmos
could love and care about them? When we
contemplate the expanse of time and space on a cosmic scale, my life is but a
blip. Even when we move from the cosmic
perspective to a human perspective, our lives can seem still quite
insignificant. I do a lot of genealogy, and it is amazing how completely a
person can be forgotten in just a hundred years, or even less. It is humbling
for me to look at that gallery of clergy hanging at the back of this church and
think about how little we know about some of those people and that in sixty or
so years, people with look at my picture and say “who was he?” and likely no
one will remember. If I will be
forgotten in less than a century, who am I that the God who created the cosmos
should love me and care about me?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
And
yet, God does love me and God does care about me. God does love you and God
does care about you. Today, on this
first Sunday of Lent, we hear in the First Epistle of Peter about that love and
care God has for us, and God brings purpose and meaning into our lives. Some
scholars believe this letter was written to a group of early Christians who
found themselves in exile for their faith.
Some may have been persecuted or even killed for their belief in Christ
Jesus. It would have been very easy for
them to have become discouraged. Yet, Peter wrote to them to give the courage,
to strengthen their faith, and remind them of the purpose God had given them, when
they asked does God really love me, does he really care about me? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
To
all of this Peter responded with an encouraging reminder about the foundation
of their faith, Jesus Christ and his saving work. He told them to remember that Christ also
suffered, and that it was the suffering of Christ that brought them to God,
unworthy as they were. What a remarkable
proclamation this is; God came to us in Christ Jesus, although we were
unworthy, to bring us closer us to God. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle" style="text-indent: 36.0pt;">
As stated at the
outset, many people believe that they are unworthy of God’s love and care
because they have made mistakes, sinned, or hurt others. Some just have a
general sense of unworthiness before God.
Indeed, one of my first deeply religious experiences was when I was on a
school trip in grade eight to Quebec City, and we visited that great church of
St. Anne de Beaupre. As you walk into that church you see crutches hanging from
the arch of the nave, no longer needed by people who received healing at the church. In that church is a relic, allegedly the arm
(encased in gold) of St. Anne, the grandmother of our Lord. As a child I looked at that relic and was overcome
by the greatness of God, the magnitude of God, and as I stood in the presence
of a holy relic of a great saint, I felt myself somehow in the presence of God,
and found myself unworthy. Many people
describe religious experiences in which they come to a sense of awe and wonder
of the almighty nature of God and sense their own unworthiness in the presence
of the Almighty. But God does not leave
us there. I am reminded of the story of
Isaiah found in chapter six of that book. Isaiah has a vision of the throne
room of God and sees the angels around the throne crying Holy, Holy, Holy is
the Lord of Hosts, and Isaiah is overcome by his own unworthiness and his own sinfulness.
He cries out “Woe is me! I am lost, for I am a man of unclean lips, and I live
among a people of unclean lips; yet my eyes have seen the King, the Lord of
hosts!” Who among us would not respond
as Isiah did? But God did not leave him
there. An angel touched his lips with a live coal from the altar of God and
proclaimed that with the touch of the coal to his lips, all his sin had
departed him and his guilt had been blotted out. Isaiah then felt free of what
burdened him, free of the weight of unworthiness, so freed in fact, that he
when he heard the Lord ask “Whom shall I send?” he called out bravely, “Hear I
am: send me!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
It
seems to me that Peter was reminding this very same thing to the exiles to whom
he wrote. He reminded them that in Christ Jesus, their guilt had been removed,
their sin had been blotted out, and that in Christ their lives had new purpose and
meaning. He was telling them that no matter their broken histories, and no
matter their present suffering, in Christ Jesus they had been made worthy of
God, and worthy to proclaim his gospel.
Jesus, who was righteous, suffered for the unrighteous, to bring them to
God. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
And
how magnificent and how powerful is the work of God in Christ that guilt might
be removed and sin blotted out? As we
read on Ash Wednesday from Psalm 103, “So far as the east is from the west, so
far has he removed our sins from us.” That is a long way! Peter, however, takes this even one step
further, for he tell us that after his death, Christ went to proclaim good news
to the spirits of those in prison. This
passage is considered one of the most difficult passages in Scripture, and what
does it mean? According to Peter, they
were the ones from former times, the ones who did not make it onto the Ark when
God was waiting patiently for their repentance, who disobeyed the word of
God. Peter is actually telling the
Church that God’s mercy is so great that it extends to those who have
died. It says to me, that there is no
one who is so sinful, so miserable, so broken that he or she is beyond the
bounds of God’s grace, in this life, or the next. What a wonderful thing to contemplate. If we
believe not only that God is all-powerful, but all-merciful and all-loving,
then we must believe that his power stretches not only from the heights but to the
depths as well. His love extends beyond the grave. This is why the Easter Icon
of the Orthodox Church shows Jesus trampling down the gates of hell and
rescuing Adam and Eve, the primordial sinners, our ancestors in unworthiness,
from its clutches. St. Peter makes no
bones about it, for he says Christ suffered for the unrighteous. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
This
is good news for us today. We have a
great privilege in the land in which we live. We can love and serve God without
persecution, unlike the early Christians, and unlike Christians in some other
places in the world today. Indeed, the heavenly throne room recently received the
souls of 21 brave Coptic Christians, who would certainly have deemed themselves
unworthy of the witness of martyrdom to which they were called, and yet through
the power of Christ Jesus proclaimed their faith even to the last. We have not been called to such a witness,
but that should never be taken for granted. For although we are all unworthy in
and of ourselves to proclaim the gospel of life in a culture of death, Christ
Jesus makes us worthy witnesses. The point of all this is not to say that we
are all called to such martyrdom. Indeed, God desires a world in which such
martyrdom was not necessary, rather it is to say that Jesus has joined us in
our suffering that in his victory over suffering and death, so too are we
victorious.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
The
ultimate point of Peter’s message to the Church is that the God, before whom we
feel unworthy, looks upon us in our sin, in our brokenness, in our sense of
unworthiness with great compassion and deep love. How do we know the almighty
creator of heaven and earth cares about us? We know because in Christ Jesus, he
came to us, to be with us, and in one supreme act of love participated in our suffering
that we might participate in his glory.
He loves us so much that he chose not only to be with us in our worst, but
to join us to him in his best. The
vision of Isaiah becomes our reality. In Christ Jesus, God turns the
unworthiness and meaninglessness of our lives into worthiness and meaning.
Where once we called, “who am I?” we now call “Here I am! Choose me!” In Christ Jesus, we are made fit for joyful,
meaningful, loving service, even when we shall meet hardship and trial.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormalCxSpMiddle">
<br /></div>
<br />
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<br /></div>
Daniel Graveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14152198947419055272noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7055186560940117954.post-85067128833967847762014-12-24T22:30:00.000-05:002014-12-24T22:30:00.603-05:00Good News When We Are At Our Worst - A Homily for Christmas 2014<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<b>Homily for Christmas Eve, 2014<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<b>Wednesday, December 24<sup>th</sup>, 2014<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<b>Trinity Anglican Church, Bradford<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<b>The Rev. Daniel F. Graves<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<b>Text: Titus 2:11-14<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNoSpacing" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<i>“For the grace of God that bringeth salvation has appeared to all men.”</i>
(Titus 2:11)<o:p></o:p></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Do you ever find that Christmas can bring out the worst in
people? You might even be shocked to
learn that sometimes Christmas brings out the worst in me. Oh, don’t get me wrong; I love Christmas, I
revel in Christmas, I glory in Christmas.
Yet, the demands of the season can be great, sometimes greater than we
can bear. Have you ever found yourself
caught in a battle with family members about where, when and how Christmas
should be hosted? Have you ever found
yourself in a battle with a child over a present they long for but you know
they shouldn’t have? Have you ever found
yourself so financially strapped that the Christmas you (and your family) long
for is beyond your reach. Perhaps this
Christmas is one in which some or all of these things are happening in your
life. And perhaps, just perhaps, it is
hard to find any joy in the season. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
My son
started his first part-time job this fall, and is now experiencing his first
Christmas season in the retail business.
While he has a passion for his job, he has found his passion for
Christmas quickly disappearing. Having spent twenty years of my own life in the
retail sector, I know something of his pain.
It can be a time for meeting people at their worst, and indeed we may
even find ourselves at our worst, too.
What are we to do? And yet, when
all is said and done, and the tree is taken town, and the carols have ended for another year, how many
of us do not feel a tinge of sadness at Christmas becoming once again a distant
future dream? And how many of us when
December rolls around again, begin to feel that same excitement, that same
hope, as trees are trimmed, and carols once again sung? How many of us become again as little
children, hoping and longing for the coming day? <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
We want to
experience the joy of the season. We want to feel the hope. We want to sing our carols heartily. We want
our families to finally get along. We want all the shoppers and clerks alike to
be friendly and warm. We want to see and experience peace on earth and good
will amongst men. And then we are met
with disappointment once again and the ugliness of humanity, and even
disappointed in ourselves when we fail to live up our own expectations of peace
and good will. What are we to do?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Amid all
our attempts to be better people, and amid all our failures in doing so, not
only during this annual Christmas season, but throughout the year, I remain thankful
of one thing, that as St. Paul said to his friend and co-worker Titus, “the
grace of God that bringeth salvation has appeared to all.” Why is this such good news to me? Why should it be such good news to all of
us? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
If I can be
sure of one thing, it is this, that as good a person as I may aspire to be I
know that I will never be able to be that good person under my own strength. It
is inevitable that I shall hurt people, offend people, have bad days and be
downright miserable. I will hang up on telemarketers and say nasty things to
them. I will yell at that guy at the gas station who cut me off. I will make snide comments to the person
ahead of me in the express lane at Sobey’s who is playing and redeeming their
bundle of lottery tickets when I just want to buy a bag of milk. Oh, I try to be a better person, but I fail
time and again. Thank God that the happiness
of the world and the joy of Christmas is not all resting on my shoulders. Perhaps you may be thanking God that it does
not rest on yours either. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But the
grace of God that bringeth salvation has appeared to all. The grace we seek comes not from us, but
rather from above. The grace we seek
comes not by having the perfectly planned Christmas feast, but from a divinely
orchestrated birth in Bethlehem. The grace we seek comes not from gifts bought
and sold at malls, either for pennies or for thousands, but is given freely in
a babe born in a stable. All the
striving we do to find joy, to make peace, to force ourselves into the perfect
picturesque Currier and Ives moment, will come to nought without the gift of the
Christ born anew in our hearts. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Are we able
to receive this gift? Are we able to behold it, behold him, in our midst? St. Paul tells us that this free gift of
grace has appeared to all, and yet we hurry about our lives ignoring it, seeking
after other gifts, gifts that will soon pass away, gifts that can never really
fill our longing hearts. And yet, we
seek after them more and more, more hungrily and voraciously than before,
hoping beyond hope that what did not fill us last year, might fill us this
year. Then at the eleventh hour, someone
cuts us off, grabs the gift that is just beyond our reach, for themselves, and
we lash out in anger, in disappointment, in discouragement. In our despondency we fail to notice the most
wonderful gift that is set before us, longing still for what we cannot have.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Even in
today’s world of mass produced gifts, in which everyone should be able to have
what he or she wants, is it not interesting how much disappointment we feel at
this time of year? Is it not interesting how many people lament not receiving
what they feel they want or deserve? Is
it not interesting that there never seems to be enough to go around? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
But there
is one gift that is plenteous for all that never gives out, that never fails;
and that is the gift of salvation in Christ Jesus. It is not simply a gift for the few, or even
for the many, it is a gift for all people: “for the grace of God that bringeth
salvation hath appeared to all people.” Christ Jesus is the well that never
runs dry. Christ Jesus is the dawn that never sets. Christ Jesus is the banquet
that never ends. Christ Jesus is God’s
gift of himself, to the people he created.
He is not for the chosen only, but for the whole cosmos. And sinful man that I am, I need him. At this time of year, in which our childhood
hopes and innocent dreams may seem so quickly dashed by the narcissism of the
age and the selfishness we exhibit, by God, I need him desperately! I need him
at Christmas, when I hope to be my best, but am invariably at my worst.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I would
wager you need him too. I think, I
believe, we all need him. All men and
women have needed him in all places and ages.
And truth be told, he comes to us when we are at our worst, not when we
are at our best. Was the world at its best when Caesar Augustus called for that
census to be taken? Do you think Joseph
was at his best when he received word that he had to take his pregnant wife
across the country on a donkey to be counted? Do you think young Mary was at
her best when Joseph told her the news of that impending trip? I think they may
have been like any other married couple I have known, and choice words may have
been spoken. Were all those innkeepers at
their best when they turned away a pregnant woman? Were those shepherds at their best, or
wearing their Sunday best, when angels appeared to them? And what of King Herod when he heard the news
of the birth of the new king and felt his rule threatened? And what of those who even followed Jesus,
his disciples, when they fought about who was to be the greatest in God’s
kingdom? And what of blessed Peter when he denied he knew his master? And
Pilate when he condemned an innocent man hoping to ensure civic peace? And what of Thomas, when he doubted the Messiah
had risen? And what of those disciples
on the Emmaus road, or Mary Magdalene, who at first failed to recognize their
risen Lord? Were any of them at their best when he came to them? And friends, what of you and me? Are we at
our best this Christmastide as he comes to us again? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I thank God
that I am not required to be at my best to receive him, and that he comes to me
even, and especially at my worst, for that is when I need him the most. That is
when we all need him the most. We need
him when we are mistakenly seeking our salvation and our hope elsewhere. We
need him when we have failed to be the people we long to be. We need him when
we have hurt others and ourselves. And it seems to me, that during this season,
which sometimes brings out the worst in people, not the best, we need him now. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The good
news, indeed the greatest news of all, is that none of this frightens him or
stops him from coming to us when we need him. He is not afraid of our sins. He
is not afraid of an innkeeper who closes his door, or a raging Herod. He is not
afraid of disciples that misunderstand his mission, or disciples that run away,
or disciples that fail to recognize him.
He simply keeps coming to us again and again, with those same words, “come
unto me all that are weary and carrying heavy burdens and I will refresh you.” He comes to us with an invitation to come to
him, and in him we will find that peace on earth, that good will to all, that
will turn our sorrow into joy, our darkness into light, our despair into hope,
our fear into holy comfort. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
As you come
to the altar of the Lord tonight, see and believe that the grace of God that
bringeth salvation has come to you, and receive him – perhaps for the first
time, or perhaps for the hundredth time, it matters not – and in receiving him receive
that gift of salvation that has come not only for you, not only for me, but for
all people, not matter how badly we have failed ourselves and each other.<o:p></o:p></div>
Daniel Graveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14152198947419055272noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7055186560940117954.post-23891654542258742112014-10-26T08:20:00.002-04:002014-10-26T08:20:48.196-04:00You are so loved -- A homily for Proper 30, Year A, 2014<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<b>Homily for Proper
30, Year A, 2014</b></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<b>Sunday, October 26<sup>th</sup>,
2014</b></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<b>Trinity Anglican
Church, Bradford, ON<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<b>The Rev. Daniel F.
Graves<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<b>Text: Matthew
22:34-46<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNoSpacing">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>“Love the Lord your
God with all your heart, soul, and mind; … and love your neighbour as yourself.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i><br /></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As usual, the adversaries of Jesus were trying to trip him
up. In this particular instance, it was
a lawyer, that is, someone trained in the intricacies of the Torah, the Jewish
law. And so he asked Jesus which one of the commandments in the law is the
greatest. Now there are some 613 commandments
in the Jewish Torah. This expert in the law listened patiently and waited to
see how Jesus might make a statement by which he would convict himself. However, Jesus was just about as tricky as
the lawyer, and he responded with the traditional Jewish daily prayer, the
Shema, an acclamation of faith in the oneness of God and our obligation to
worship him alone. “Hear O Israel, the
Lord your God is One and you shall love the Lord your God with all your heart,
and soul and mind.” How could this be
argued? And then Jesus further added, “You
shall love your neighbour as yourself” which echoes everything we hear in the
prophets about the sort of worship God desires, which is a compassion for those
around us and justice for the poor. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This silenced his opponent, for the lawyer knew he could
argue neither of these points. What is
very interesting about this is that it is not the law itself to which Jesus
turns, but rather to a prayer; which always reminds us that our prayers inform
and shape our theology. Theology is the
art of interpreting, and reflecting upon our relationship with God and God’s
world. It is not the other way around. We do not start with a law, or a
theology, or a set of beliefs and then shape our relationship with God out of
them; rather, we start with a relationship with God and we build our theology
out of that relationship. The rule of prayer is the rule of faith, or
belief. This is precisely what Jesus
did. He started with our relationship with God, and then moved to our
relationship with God’s creation in our fellow creatures and then proclaimed, “all
of our theology hangs on these two things.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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I find this a very comforting thought. And when you think about it, all of our
Christian theology revolves around this very simple truth, that in Jesus
Christ, God is reaching out to you and me for a relationship. We might even say it more simply, that Jesus IS
our relationship with God. Jesus makes God’s love known to us. All of our
theology about the Incarnation, the Cross and Resurrection, the Ascension, his
coming again – all of these things point to the one essential fact that in
Jesus God reaches out to us in relationship and invites our response. Each aspect of our theology attempts to
explain this relationship. In the
Incarnation, in the Cross, God seeks to be with us in poverty, in humility, in
vulnerability. In the example of his birth in the stable, and his death upon
the cross God is reaching out to us. He
is with us in our humility, in our pain, in our vulnerability, and bears those
things with us and for us. In the Resurrection and the Ascension, God draws us
into his divine life. We embrace his
risen body and his risen life and we embrace God, and thus share in his glory. It
is all relationship. And it is a relationship of love. <o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And what of our theology about the Kingdom of God, the New Jerusalem,
the Church Militant, and the Church Triumphant? These are ways of talking about
our relationship with each other, both now and in the age to come. When we speak
of the “kingdom” we are speaking about a newly ordered community in which all
our relationships are seen in light of the relationship we have with God in
Christ. It is through God’s Spirit who
animates our relationship with God in prayer that our relationships with each
other will find new hope and joy. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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Thus, it seems to me that when Jesus is asked which law is
the greatest, by responding with a prayer, he in essence is saying, no law is
the greatest. He rather is changing the conversation and asking do you believe
God loves you? Do you love God? And if these things are true, do we recognize
that love in the love of our neighbour?<o:p></o:p></div>
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<br /></div>
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Is this not what really matters? To know that we are
loved? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
This week we heard the powerful story of another lawyer,
this one a woman named Barbara Winters, who upon hearing gunshots near the
national war memorial ran toward those shots. What she encountered was a dying
solider, Cpl. Nathan Cirillo. And what were her words to that dying man? “You
are loved… your family loves you… everyone loves you… we are all so proud of
you… You are so loved…” And when later asked
why she said what she said, she responded simply, “When you are dying, you need
to know how loved you are.” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
This is the entire theology of the Gospel wrapped up in a
single sentence. “When you are dying, you need to know how loved you are.” To a dying race, to a people who constantly
hurt each other, who sin against each other, who make terrible mistakes trying
even to do the best, God comes to us in Jesus with the words “You are so loved…
I love you … you are so loved.” God believes that we need, more than anything
else to hear these words from him: “I
love you.” And he speaks these words to us in Jesus Christ. We are further called to speak these words to
each other, to run toward the fire, toward the gunshots, toward the tragedy,
towards death and proclaim life in the words “I love you” to those who desperately
need to hear that they are loved. To know that we are loved by God, and to
share that love with one another in the midst of forces that attempt to drive
us to hatred, upon these two things hang all the law and the prophets.<o:p></o:p></div>
Daniel Graveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14152198947419055272noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7055186560940117954.post-67516332047757859772014-07-06T09:07:00.002-04:002014-07-06T09:07:46.591-04:00A War that Wages Within Us - A Homily for Proper 14, Year A, 2014<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Homily for Proper 14, Year A, 2014<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Sunday, July 6, 2014<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Trinity Anglican Church, Bradford, ON<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>The Rev. Daniel F. Graves<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<b>Texts: Romans 7:15-25, Matthew 25-30</b><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>“Come unto me all who are weary and carrying heavy burdens
and I will give you rest.”</i><o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Since last December, I have made a conscious effort to be a
healthier person. When I sprained my ankle just before Christmas, I realized
that I was not going to get better without better self-care. And so I undertook
seriously, what I had previously only committed to half-heartedly, and made
regular exercise a priority. Now, those who know me well know that reading has
always really been my sport, and when I figured I needed a bit more cardiovascular
activity then what was required to turn a page, I picked up my guitar and let
the strumming count for my cardio activity that week. Obviously, I needed a wakeup call. The problem is, though, that I really don’t
like exercise. Sure, I feel great after I have done it, but perhaps that is one
of God’s little tricks he plays on us, because motivation is actually needed
before we do something, not after the task is completed! So, I plug away. I try to do my daily
exercise, and for the most part I am feeling better, but it is hard, and it is
not really what I want to be doing with my time. It is amazing how often I hear that
Lumberjack breakfast at Hot Stacks calling my name, and that is really where I
want to be! <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Like St. Paul, I have a problem. I know what I ought to do, what I really
should do, and in my heart of hearts I really want to do, but then I turn and
do the wrong thing, the thing I ought not to do, the thing in my heart that I
actually hate. I suspect I am not alone
on this journey, indeed, if I am not mistaken, it is part of the human
condition and we are all part of that same race. Like St. Paul, we do not understand our own
actions. We know what is good, and yet
how often do we choose what is not so good.
And then we rationalize our choice.
The other day when I was on the treadmill, I had to pause it and tie my
shoe. I accidentally reset it and was
trying to figure out how to get it back, and then just gave up. “Oh well,” I said to myself, “that’s pretty
good, I’ll make it up tomorrow.” And
then tomorrow gets busy, and you know the rest.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
I am using the example of exercise because for me, it is the
thing that is good for me, but the thing I am tempted to continually to
forsake. Each one of us will know what
our temptations are. Each one of us will
have our “oughts” and “ought nots” that we struggle with. And each one of us will think from
time-to-time that we have slain our dragon, that we have become strong enough
under our own might to fight off that beast of temptation, and yet, the moment
our guard is down, we find ourselves veering off that good road, and wandering
down that familiar side street of temptation.
<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The truth is, we are actually wired to do the right thing.
We are wired for goodness. We are created in the image and likeness of God. God
looked at all he created and said “it is good!”
As human beings we have an intrinsic sense of the natural law of right
and wrong. We know what is best for us both as individuals and as a
community. We may argue about the
details of how to bring about goodness in the world, but we are wired to strive
toward the good. This is what St. Paul
is talking about when he says that we know the good we ought to do. There is both a natural revealed law of right
and wrong, and in the Commandments of the Moral Law of the Old Testament we are
taught right and wrong. The natural moral law and the revealed moral law have
one and the same font, and that is God. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Why then, knowing good from evil in our heads and perhaps
even in our hearts, why, being wired for the good, do we struggle against it
and often choose what is not best for us?
Somewhere along the line, something short-circuited. Something interfered with the wiring. A bug got into the programming. Somewhere along the line, the creation
confused itself with the creator, and placed itself at the centre of the
universe, in place of the one to whom that honour is truly due. Somewhere along the line, human beings, in extraordinary
hubris mistook themselves for gods and forgot the one true God. When we become gods and cast out the one true
God we take to ourselves the role of rule maker, and the role of
rule-breaker. We place our own temporal
and earthly desires and wants above the eternal good and twist our moral framework
to accommodate our unhealthy longings.
And all the while, we know down deep inside something is wrong. We know
the good we ought to be choosing, and yet, we choose it not. What we desire
temporally has become so important that we have lost sight of things
eternal. But deep down the struggle is
there, and from time-to-time pangs of conscience will attack, and yet we push
away and bury them. It is often not until we reach a crisis, and we know we
cannot go on rationalizing, seeking after earthly treats that never fill the
longing soul, that we know something has to give. The weight of juggling all
our conflicting rationalizations of our behaviour to ourselves, and to others,
has become too heavy, and what are we do? <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Take my yoke upon you and learn from me,” Jesus says, “for
I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my
yoke is easy and my burden is light.” The
truth is, we know that in our moment of struggle, when the burden is hard, when
the world is confusing, when we are hiding from ourselves and others that the
answer really is a simple one: turn to Christ.
And yet, I want to carry that load. I want to prove that I can bear the
burdens. I want to keep all the balls in the air. Yet, I know deep down that I cannot. But here is the irony: the burden sometimes is
in laying down the load, rather than continuing to carry it, or even taking on
more. It is harder to lay down the load, to say, “I can’t do it on my own”, and
“I need someone else to carry it for awhile”. These are the truly hard things
to say, and they are the truly hard things to do. But they are the right thing.
Why? Because, in laying down your load before Christ you allow yourself to be
re-wired, to be re-ordered, to be restored, refreshed, recreated. In laying down your burden before Christ you
take yourself out of the centre of the universe and recognize that that is God’s
place, and indeed, that God never left it when you tried to place yourself
there. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And thus, the burden we pick up in Christ is an easy burden.
Note carefully that Jesus still calls it a burden. It is not that the Christian
life is without challenge, or work, or trial, but it is a burden that is carried
by Christ, and not ourselves alone. Last
week we spoke about some of those challenges that come from following Jesus,
from taking up his yoke, and we heard that they are not easy at all, and yet
nothing beats doing the right thing, and God will empower us with his strength on
the journey. “Learn from me,” he says, “For I am gentle and humble in heart,
and you will find rest for your souls”.
Is this not what St. Paul says he is longing for when he talks about the
war going on within him, within all of us?
Is this not what we all long for – peace in our souls? And yet we turn not to Christ because we are
afraid of being judged for all our wrongs, for our mistakes, for the war that
wages within us. But what does Jesus say
to all that? Do not fear, I will not judge you.
His words are simple, he is gentle, and he says “Come to me all that are
weary and carrying heavy burdens and I will give you rest.” That is why St. Paul, at the conclusion of
his lament about the war that wages within us, can cry “but thanks be to God,
who has given us the victory through Jesus Christ our Lord!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
As each of us face the struggles that challenge us, and as we
set out, attempting to do the right thing, and inevitably, under the weakness
of our own strength fall short of the mark, may we be given grace to hand over
our challenges, our weaknesses, our hopes and our failures to the one who will truly
give us peace, and find victory in him, Jesus Christ our Lord.<o:p></o:p></div>
Daniel Graveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14152198947419055272noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7055186560940117954.post-82278373758885457392014-06-01T08:27:00.000-04:002014-06-01T08:27:12.073-04:00Bring me my Arrows of Desire - A Homily for Easter VII (Sunday in Ascensiontide/Jerusalem Sunday)<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>Homily for Easter 7, Year A, 2014<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>Sunday in Asceniontide, Jerusalem Sunday<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>Sunday, June 1, 2014<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>Trinity Anglican Church, Bradford, ON<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>The Rev. Daniel F. Graves<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b>Text: John 17:1-11<o:p></o:p></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
“…And now I am no
longer in the world, but they are in the world.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>And did those feet in
ancient time<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>walk upon England’s
mountains green?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>And was the holy Lamb
of God<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>on England’s pastures
seen?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
An ancient legend, of dubious merit, posits that our Lord
(along with Joseph of Arimithea) visited England during an unrecorded period of
his life. In the preface to his epic
poem “Milton”, a text now sung as the anthem “Jerusalem”, William Blake asks
the question: “And did those feet in ancient time walk upon England’s mountains
green?” <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>And did the
countenance divine <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Shine forth upon
clouded hills?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>And was Jerusalem
build-ed here<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Among those dark
satanic mills?<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The English are well-known for gazing back through time and
imagining a lost golden age. One only
has to consider the myth of Camelot. But this is not Camelot that Blake is
envisaging, it is Jersualem the Golden, the heavenly kingdom. Did Christ visit the land of Blake’s fathers
and for a moment, did heaven touch earth? Did Jerusalem break forth and did
Satan’s hosts flee? One can imagine
Blake in his own day, surrounded by the dark satanic mills of the Industrial
revolution, wondering if this was indeed the place where heaven had once
touched earth, because surrounded by the suffering and injustice of the age, it
surely did not seem so in the moment.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And so in our age, can we believe that in the Incarnation of
God in Christ heaven touched earth? That the forces of Satan were defeated and that
death itself was destroyed? Oh, as we look about and see the brutality of
mankind, the flagrant destruction of God’s creation for the sole benefit of commercial
gain, when we see the disparity between rich and poor, when we see the wars and
destruction, and indeed as we look upon the earthly Jerusalem, so continuously
wrought with strife and death, do we not feel as though we are indeed
surrounded by dark satanic mills? Can we
believe in the new Jerusalem, the Holy City of God, a Jerusalem of peace, a
Jerusalem of hope? Do we not feel as
though God has left us, and even wonder if he was ever here in the first
place? Did his feet in ancient time walk
upon the Palestine’s mountains green?
And was the holy Lamb of God in the valleys of Judah seen?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
How easy it is for us to forget the promise and the hope
that has been bequeathed to us. The
glory of Jesus, according to the seventeenth chapter of St. John’s Gospel is that he has given eternal life and hope to
all of his people through his life, his death, his resurrection and
ascension. In Jesus Christ, the very
word of God, God himself is made known to those who would believe in him. The world chooses not to know him. The world
chooses still to labour away in those dark satanic mills, and yet, for those
with eyes to see and ears to hear, God has made himself known in Christ
Jesus. In Jesus we have found hope, we
have encountered the living God. That encounter, that relationship brings
peace, brings reconciliation, brings hope, and brings new and everlasting
life. All these things he has given us,
and yet even as he returns to the Father, our faith begins to falter, and we
begin to wonder, did his feet in ancient time actually walk upon mountains and
pastures green?<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Yet, through the gift of the Holy Spirit, although he is no
longer in the world, he is present in the world through his church, the body of
Christ. Jesus says, “I am no longer in
the world, but they are in the world.” Can we dare to believe that he is
present in us, in our communion, in our community, in our love for one another
and in our compassion and love for this broken world? Can we dare to believe, even as the powers of
evil tempt us to doubt and despair, that he dwells in us and we in him? Can we believe that even as the earthly
Jerusalem is continually wrought with violence and strife, the new Jerusalem is
being built every time we worship together, pray to God, serve and love? Jesus himself prayed to the Father that we
might be protected from the snares of the evil one, that we might be guarded
from harm, and guarded from hopelessness and despair, that we might be faithful
to our calling, and that we might be one with each other and him, even as he
and the Father are one. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As Blake wondered, and perhaps even doubted a fabled
Jerusalem in England’s golden past, he knew that Jerusalem could only be built
through the apostolic faithfulness of the children of God. Even if Jesus never set foot in England, or
in North America -- in the presence of the Church, his true and living body,
Jesus is amongst us, walks amongst us, is seen on mountain and in vale, his
countenance scatters the clouds and the tramples down the dark satanic mills of
our own day. <o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
And so Blake wondering about the past, sings with certainty
about today, and our role in building the new Jerusalem:<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Bring me my bow of
burning gold!<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Bring me my arrows of
desire! <o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Bring me my spear! O
clouds, unfold!<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Bring me my chariot of
fire!<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Blake prays not for earthly weapons but spiritual weapons,
an arrow of desire, a chariot of fire that he might be aflame with a holy
passion for justice, for peace, for the new Jerusalem.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>I will not cease from
mental fight,<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Nor shall my sword
sleep in my hand,<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Till we have built
Jerusalem<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>in this our green and
pleasant land.<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jesus prayed that his departure would not disable his
disciples, but rather empower them. And
so, as we shall hear next week at Pentecost, he breathed the fire of the Holy
Spirit upon them that they might be enflamed with desire for the peaceable and
new Jerusalem. Shall we shrink from the
task? Shall we grow cold as the dark satanic mills of this age breath
fire? Or shall we burn with passion for
God’s kingdom about which Blake sung?
The feet of Jesus walked in Jerusalem of old and yet through the power
of his Spirit, and through the arrows of desire that bring us, and the chariot
of fire upon which we go forth, may the gospel of Jesus be proclaimed in this,
our green and pleasant land.<o:p></o:p></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
Daniel Graveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14152198947419055272noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7055186560940117954.post-70042127986986572252013-12-29T08:31:00.003-05:002013-12-29T08:31:46.939-05:00A Tale of Two Kings - A Homily for Christmas I, 2013
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<strong>A Homily for Christmas I, 2013<o:p></o:p></strong></div>
<strong>
Sunday, December, 29<sup>th</sup>, 2013<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
Trinity Anglican Church, Bradford ON<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
The Rev. Daniel F. Graves<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
Text: Matthew 2:13-23<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<em>“Then Joseph got up, took the child and his mother by night,
and went into Egypt…”<o:p></o:p></em></div>
--Matthew 2:13<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Today we hear the story of two kings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The first king is a jealous king, a
threatened king, an angry king.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
second king is but a child, and yet a child who holds the salvation of the
world in his tender hands.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the
background are three others who have been traditionally described as kings, the
magi, who have just departed from the stage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In the forefront is Joseph, the righteous, obedient servant of the Lord;
and offstage is the terrible slaughter of the innocent children, victims of
Herod’s unrighteous wrath.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
It is one of the peculiarities of our liturgical calendar
that we read this story out of sequence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>On Christmas I, we read the second part of the story first, namely, the
flight into Egypt and the slaughter of the Holy Innocents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Next week, on Epiphany, we shall read the
first part, the arrival of the wise men, the magi from the East, the “three
kings” of legend to worship and offer gifts to the infant Christ.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Perhaps in some way reversing the order might seem strangely
appropriate in that we know in advance, and we have already seared into our
minds, that awful image of Herod’s wrath against the children of Judea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If the wise men were so wise, why did they
visit the insecure Herod and tip him off that they were searching for the one
who would be king, the one who would challenge his rule?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps the natural place to seek out a
future king is in a palace and not a stable, but we know what the wise men
inadvertently unleashed in their visit to Herod, and we watch with different
eyes as they lay their gifts before the infant child, knowing that their actions
have set in motion a genocide.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Questions without answers are ever before us in this
story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why would God allow this massacre?
But then, why does God allow any massacre?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What is clear, though, is the darkness into which humanity is fallen,
and how dark was the world into which our Lord was born.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even as the light comes into the world, the
darkness still rails against the light.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Yet, the light comes into the world, and God, in his great
condescension, in his great vulnerability in becoming man, trusted himself to
man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God trusted himself, in Christ
Jesus, to the righteous man Joseph and the faithful handmaiden Mary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In a world in which tyrants destroy the lives
of infants, God yet had enough trust in humanity to allow himself to be born
into the poverty of a stable, nurtured in the womb of the faithful virgin Mary,
protected by the hand of the righteous Joseph.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Into such a world in which a Herod reigns, God trusts himself to
humanity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God is indeed the source of
all hope.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
As we learned in the nativity story according to Matthew,
Joseph was indeed a righteous man, but more than that he was an obedient man.
When the angel came to him in a dream and told him not to put Mary away because
of her unexpected pregnancy, he obeyed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>One must ask: which of us would trust an angel who speaks to us in a
dream?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Joseph trusted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Joseph was obedient to the Lord’s word.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so when an angel once again came to him
in another dream, he was obedient again and led his family out of Israel into
Egypt.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why does Joseph trust?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why does Joseph obey?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the nativity according to Luke we read of
a faithful and obedient Mary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I have
suggested at other times that Mary’s obedience and faithfulness grew out of
being deeply steeped in the story of salvation as she would have learned it through
hearing the biblical story read and retold throughout her life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When she heard that God would use a lowly one
such as herself, the words from Isaiah would have resonated within her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Because she knew the ancient stories, she
knew how God acted, and thus that what he was doing was completely in character
with all she knew of God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was a risk
for her to be faithful – faith if always a risk! – but she had faith that God
was acting in and through her, and that his actions were completely in
character with the God she had learned about and had always worshiped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so I think is the case for Joseph.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was a righteous man, which means a man who
would have known his Scriptures, studied them carefully, understood the Law and
the Prophets.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Therefore, when an angel in
a dream came to him, telling him to depart to Egypt with his family, did he
think of another angel who came to Jacob in a dream (Gen 49), telling him to
take his family into Egypt?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And what did
Jacob find when he got there? That the son he thought was lost, Joseph, was
alive, a leader amongst the Egyptians! Joseph, like Jacob obeyed God, and his
family lived.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
When it came time to return to Judea, the angel came to
Joseph in another dream, telling him of the death of Herod.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Joseph and his family returned, but learned
that Herod’s son reigned, so again in a dream he was advised to go into the
Galilee.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We learn that the sojourn out
of Egypt was to fulfil the prophecy, “Out of Egypt I have called my son.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To most Jews the was a reference to the
delivery of Israel out of slavery in Egypt, but Joseph clearly understood it on
another level.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Joseph knew that another
work of salvation was afoot, a salvation of which the former delivery from
slavery in Egypt was but a sign.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Recall that
Joseph was told to name his child, “Jesus” literally, “the one who saves his
people.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Obedient, righteous Joseph knew
that he had a special guardianship of God’s new work of salvation, God’s
decisive work of salvation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And in all
of this, Joseph, for our sakes, was obedient.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Yes, the exodus of old is fulfilled for us in the person of
Jesus Christ.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Into a world in which
tyrants slaughter innocents, comes the saving hand of God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Into a world in which darkness threatens to
envelop us and never let go, comes the light of Christ.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Into a world in which hope seems lost, the
hopeful God entrusts himself to the care of the righteous man and the faithful
woman.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And that same gospel is entrusted
to us today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It can be hard to believe
that in a world such as this God’s hope can prevail. It can be hard to believe
that in a world in which tyrants still slaughter innocents, that God is
bringing about salvation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It can be hard
to believe that in a world in which much darkness prevails that he light of
Christ can still shine. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But not only do
we believe it, we proclaim it! For shine it does.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are witnesses to that light.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Each of us is here, and we worship Christ,
because of the saving work he has worked in us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We are here and worship because God in Christ has acted decisively in
our lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In Christ we have chosen the
King who is a saviour, not the pretender king who is a destroyer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In Christ we have chosen the King who is
gentle, not the one who is jealous.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In
Christ we have chosen the King who says suffer the children unto me, not the
one who slays all the children that threatens his precarious reign.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We know from the ancient historian Josephus
that Herod even slaughtered his own sons when they were a threat to him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This may seem like a distant, fabulous story
from a long-past time, but the human condition has changed little.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those who seek after power still guard it
jealously, and maliciously.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have the
inclination and the ability to do awful things with power.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These acts are not isolated acts found only
in first century Judea.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They happen
today.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
The presence of Jesus, though, has the power to transform
us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the embryonic Christ grew in the womb
of blessed Mary, his presence shaped and transformed the lives of Mary and
Joseph of Nazareth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Were they as capable
as any other human beings of terrible deeds?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Could they have rejected the Christ?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I imagine they could have, and yet, his very presence even in the womb,
inspired a faithfulness and hopefulness in them that changed and shaped their
lives forever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so it is true for
us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Without Christ what are we?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Without Christ, consider who we might be? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But with Christ, think of who have become, and
are becoming!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As Christ is born in our
lives, consider how our lives, our hearts, our meaning are reshaped, remoulded,
and reformed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The presence of Christ in
the lives of Mary and Joseph inspires faith, encourages obedience, and fosters
righteousness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As the infant Christ shaped Mary and Joseph of
Nazareth, so too Christ shapes us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
Christ leads us on a new exodus, an exodus away from the prince of this age (who
would shape and mould us as Herods) into a new and promised land in which we
are shaped and moulded in to the image and likeness of the loving God, who has
come to us in Christ Jesus.<o:p></o:p></div>
Daniel Graveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14152198947419055272noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7055186560940117954.post-28023981108354722682013-12-24T23:00:00.000-05:002013-12-25T01:15:19.892-05:00The People Who Walked in Darkness - A Sermon for Christmas Eve, 2013<strong>Homily for Christmas Eve, 2013<o:p></o:p></strong><br>
<strong>
Tuesday, December 24<sup>th</sup>, 2013<o:p></o:p></strong><br>
<strong>
Trinity Anglican Church, Bradford, ON<o:p></o:p></strong><br>
<strong>
The Rev. Daniel F. Graves<o:p></o:p></strong><br>
<strong>
Texts: Isaiah 9:2-7; Luke 2:1-20<o:p></o:p></strong><br>
<br>
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<em>“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light.”<o:p></o:p></em></div>
-Isaiah 9:2<o:p></o:p><br>
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Many have been in the dark in the days leading up to
Christmas.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Ice has weighed down power
lines. Branches and even the trunks of trees have snapped.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Many have sat in coldness and darkness, and
yet wonderful stories of hope, of generosity, and of joy have emerged.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps, just perhaps, there is a sign given
to us in all of this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps, just
perhaps, the darkness and cold might have awakened us to the insatiability of
the consumerism of the season and the unrealistic expectations of family to be
in two or three places at one time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When
the angels sing of peace on earth, for many, this may seem the least peaceful
time of year.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For many, it is a time
filled with pressures, with angst, with exhaustion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The loss of power and heat, the loss of light
and warmth, the snow blocking driveways and entrance ways, perhaps these are a
sign to us to be still for a moment and seek the meaning and truth of a season
somewhere else than malls and parties.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br>
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Where shall we seek?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Where shall we look?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And where
shall we go when our road is blocked and the way seems dark and cold?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The shepherds of old, on a cold, dark wintery
night, in the quiet of the darkness heard the song of the angel, and they
responded, “Let us go then, even unto Bethlehem, and see this thing which is
come to pass, which the Lord hath made known unto us.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We may not be able to travel to the literal
Bethlehem, but can we, ourselves, go even unto another very real Bethlehem and
witness this thing which the Lord has done?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>With lights out, with driveways blocked, can we yet go even unto
Bethlehem?<o:p></o:p></div>
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In the days of the Prophet Isaiah, the people of Israel
walked in darkness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps they, too,
felt as if their way was blocked. Perhaps they, too, felt a coldness and
darkness that cut them through to the core.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>For them, the darkness was the boots of tramping warriors.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For them the darkness was their loss of faith
amidst oppression and corruption.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For
them the darkness seemed unending.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But
Isaiah reminds them that even the people who have walked in darkness have seen
a great light.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, even those who have
dwelled in the land of deep darkness, upon them a light has shone.<o:p></o:p></div>
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For the people of Isaiah’s day, the hope came in the birth
of a new heir – someone who would bring justice, righteousness, and peace.
Although this child about whom Isaiah spoke was a king who predated Christ by
about eight centuries, Isaiah’s words were also a prophetic utterance
concerning another king who would come centuries later, and who, through the
indwelling of the Holy Spirit, is with us still.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The name of the king about whom Isaiah spoke
to his contemporaries is lost to us, but the name of the one who ultimately
fulfilled his prophecy is written on our hearts for ever and ever, and that
name is Jesus Christ, our King and Lord—the one who was born in a stable in
Bethlehem, heralded by angels, worshiped by shepherds, adored by magi.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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But in this present time, amid the stamping of feet in
Christmas malls, and the reverie of Christmas parties, can we hear the angels’
song?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Can we hear the mother’s
lullaby?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Can we hear the babe crying in
the night in that cold, dark stable?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>With all the clamour our ears become deaf.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With all the hysteria of “doing Christmas
right” is it possible that the artificial warmth of our hearths will prevent us
from receiving the Good News about which the angels sing? Or of making that
journey even unto Bethlehem?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Then suddenly God acts in a surprising and unpredictable
way. When the world is struck dark, when our artificial fires fail, when the
way to the mall is blocked, we are given a special gift.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is the gift of being able to gather with
that small group of shepherds around that meagre fire, a fire that is soon
paled by the warmth of the angelic apparition that fills the sky. Then, and
only then, are our hearts prepared to make that trip to Bethlehem.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Then, and only then, are we able like the
magi to leave riches, and opulence and the safety of our earthly palaces behind
and<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>make the journey along desert road,
our path illumined only by the light of a distant star.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the darkness, with all light extinguished,
we seek the light that never goes out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In the cold night, we seek the warmth that cannot fail, along our
snow-blocked, ice-laden paths, we seek the one whose way is ever open to us.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br>
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Oh how difficult it can be to see his light, perceive his
warmth, travel his way, when other lights distract our eyes, other fires burn
within us, and other roads seem to beckon down their paths.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These things become for us the meaning of
life, they masquerade as the meaning of Christmas, they encourage us to rely on
them to such an extent that we do not know what we shall do when they fail us.
What can we do? Where may we go?<o:p></o:p></div>
<br>
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Let us go then, even unto Bethlehem!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, not that distant war-torn place we see on
TV and read of in our papers and on the internet, but that place where heaven
touches earth and the cold turns to warm, the darkness turns to light, and the
way of life is open for us. Let us turn to the Bethlehem of our hearts, where
Christ is born this day! Let us go then even unto Bethlehem and see this thing
which the Lord has done!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For in
Bethlehem, there is no artificial light.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In Bethlehem there is no artificial warmth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In Bethlehem there is no road but one, one
that leads directly to the King of Kings and Lord of Lords.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In Bethlehem, his gates lie open continually.
There is not wanting nor destruction within its borders.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even as all other lights fail, so too shall
all nations come to the light that shines in Bethlehem.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And all the ends of the earth shall see the salvation
of our God.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Advent began with a prayer that we might be given grace to
cast away the works of darkness and put on the armour of light, now in the time
of this mortal life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But darkness
deceives us. Darkness masquerades as light. Sometimes we do not know that we
travel in the darkness, for the lights are so bright, and the fires burn so
brilliantly, and all roads seem lit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Yet, make no mistake, the light we create because we are afraid of the
dark is of no enduring consolation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
fires we light because we are afraid of the coldness within us shall not warm
us continually.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The roads we build to
make the rough places plain will crumble.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There is only one light, one divine flame, one holy way, and that is
Christ our God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br>
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Sometimes we need to have our lights turned off; sometimes
we need to have our furnaces quit;<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>sometimes
we need to have our driveways blocked, to remind us of the true light, the true
divine flame, the one true way,<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>and to
seek it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The angel voices herald it
again. The shepherds make the journey again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The magi once again follow the star.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And in stable, cold and dark, the light shines in the darkness.<o:p></o:p></div>
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<o:p> </o:p></div>
Daniel Graveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14152198947419055272noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7055186560940117954.post-36294022838346958492013-09-29T08:44:00.000-04:002013-09-29T09:53:38.027-04:00Where Did You Get to Know Me? - A Homily for Back to Church Sunday, 2013 (St. Michael & All Angels)<strong>Homily for St. Michael and All Angels, 2013<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
Sunday, September 29<sup>th</sup>, 2013 (Back to Church
Sunday)<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
Trinity Anglican Church, Bradford, ON<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
The Rev. Daniel F. Graves<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
Text: John 1:47-51<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<br />
<em>“Where did you get to know me?”<o:p></o:p></em><br />
-John 1:48<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
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As human beings, we are on a journey.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is a journey of discovery and a quest for
meaning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know that sometimes I find
myself so caught up in the everyday things of life that the questions of “discovery”
and “meaning” become eclipsed by the more mundane questions of “what on earth
am I going to make my family for supper?” and “where on earth will I find the
time this week to get that haircut?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Yet, even as such mundane question rumble about in the fronts of our
minds, the deeper questions mull about still in the corners of our hearts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Questions like “what is this life really all
about?” “Why am I here?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where are we
going?” “What is joy?” “Why do I hurt?” “What is love?” “Is there really a God?”
are all questions that find their homes deep inside of us and every once in a
while they percolate to the surface pushing away for a moment those questions
about dinner, shopping, haircuts, and how I will get my kid from one program to
the next.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And yet we push them down
again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
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The truth is, we seek deeper meaning <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">in</i> this life, and we seek the deeper meaning <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">of</i> this life. Even more precisely, we seek the deeper meaning in
and of our <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">particular</i> lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes, that question becomes frightening:
What if there is no meaning to life?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What if <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">my life</i> has no
meaning?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is often easier to push
these questions down and try to forget about them and return to the comparatively
easy questions about the pedantic things of everyday life.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
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I wish to push this line of thought just a little further,
though, and ask an even deeper question that has to do with our quest for
meaning, and that question is this: What are we really afraid of?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What keeps us pushing these questions down
deep inside?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What is a life without
meaning?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What does a meaningless life
look like?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
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Perhaps a life without meaning is a life in which we are
forgotten by all others; that we are, in a way, completely unknown.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Maybe it means that we are unloved, or worse,
unlovable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think there is something in
our human condition that, sadly, tends us to despair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I know that this can be true for me in my
weaker and more vulnerable moments.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What
if all I do and all the good I try to bring about goes unnoticed, unaccepted, rejected,
or worse, is really all for nothing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Have you ever worried about these things?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Have you ever worried that people will reject
you, hate you, fail to honour what you are doing, that there is something wrong
with you, or that you are even unlovable?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Well, welcome to the human race.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I think we all feel these things from time to time, in varying
degrees.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Sometimes such thoughts are
fleeting and for but a moment, at other times, we can become obsessed by
them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But lest you think I am only here
to paint a bleak picture, I want you to consider a very special story.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
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Nathaniel was a skeptic.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I think he may not have been that different from many of us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was not won over by easy arguments and
likely had an aversion to easy answers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Now what I don’t know for sure, I am only speculating here, is if his
skepticism was just an innate sort of thing, or whether it came from being “burned”
too many times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We cannot know for sure,
but it we would not be surprised if he had maybe been conned once or twice in
his early days.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, a healthy
skepticism is certainly not a bad thing, but how many of us have known people
whose skepticism has turn to an unhealthy cynicism?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Cynicism is that hopeless place in which we
question everything not to seek answers, but to unmask the fallacy that there
is meaning and hope in life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is a
depressing place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It a place of
despair.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, was this Nathaniel’s
story? We don’t know for sure, but when his brother Philip came and told him
that he had met the one about whom Moses, the Law, and the Prophets had spoken
(namely, the Messiah), Nathaniel replied skeptically with these words, “Can
anything good come out of Nazareth?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Oh
how I, myself, have uttered similar words when challenged to believe
unbelievable things! Have we not all wondered at various times if anything good
could come out of our figurative “Nazareths”?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Perhaps Nathaniel was uttering the ancient version of that proverbial
modern phrase, “I’m from Missouri… show me!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Yet, his brother Philip was convinced by what he had found.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His brother knew he had found something
special to share, and thus Philip, looked knowingly at his skeptical brother
and said simply, “Come and see.”<o:p></o:p></div>
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Perhaps, like all of us, deep down underneath all the
skepticism, Nathaniel had a longing, a deeper longing – a longing for meaning,
a hope that this life is not all for nothing, and maybe, just maybe, he brother
Philip had found something worth investigating, something he himself was afraid
to admit he wanted to see. And so, Nathaniel, the man from Missouri, to a risk
and followed Philip, and they went together seeking the Messiah.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
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One wonders if Nathaniel was thinking all the things we might
think in such a situation:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Why am I
doing this?” “Why did I say ‘yes’ to going with him?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I know this is going to be a bust.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I’m not getting my hopes up only to be let
down!” “I’m certainly not going to enjoy this…”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And yet, he came anyway, with all his fears, skepticism and even cynicism
intact, and also with his unanswered longing tucked deep within his heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With all of his confusion and angst, with his
wondering and longing, he came.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
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When Jesus saw Nathaniel approach he shouted out, “Truly,
here is an Israelite in which there is not deceit!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What did Jesus mean by this?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps it might be translated into an idiom
my late great-grandmother loved use, “There ain’t no flies on him!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nathaniel was on not to be easily persuaded
or easily fooled.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And Jesus recognized
that. Jesus was not criticising Nathaniel – no, he was paying him a
compliment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The very skepticism that
others may have found a character flaw, Jesus boldly celebrates.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jesus likes what he sees when Nathaniel
approaches.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nathaniel does not try to be
someone else, someone whom he is not; he simply comes as he is with all his
prevailing doubt and secret longing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jesus
respects that, knows that, and meets him with joy.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
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Nathaniel might have been justifiably confused. “How do you
know about me?” Nathaniel asks.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Ah,”
says Jesus, “I saw you under the fig tree before your brother called you.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Suddenly, Nathaniel realized that as he had
longed to find deeper meaning, deeper meaning had found him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What he had thought was held secretly in the
quiet dark corners of his heart, he learned was actually known to this man who
greeted him with respect and joy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A
question was answered for Nathaniel. He was not alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was not unknown.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was not lost.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was not unloved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
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These are the question we all have – what if I am alone,
unknown, lost and unloved? But as Jesus recognized Nathaniel, even in all his
skepticism, and perhaps even will all his cynicism, Nathaniel discovered that
even as hard as we might search for meaning and for truth, meaning and truth
seek us out and find us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jesus
recognized Nathaniel for who he was, without judgement, without condemnation,
without all that the world might heap on him, and without all the judgement and
condemnation that Nathaniel may have heaped on himself. Jesus recognized him,
knew him, loved him. Something clicked in Nathaniel in that moment – he was not
alone, he was known, he was loved, he was honoured.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Suddenly, and most surprisingly, Nathaniel,
the guy from Missouri, made this bold proclamation: “Rabbi! You are the son of
God – the king of Israel!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Imagine what
others who knew Nathaniel might have thought as he made this bold proclamation.
Imagine what they might have thought as Nathaniel chose to follow Jesus on the
way.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Friends, God know us even better than we know
ourselves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we sit under whatever
fig tree we sit under, pondering the deeper questions of hearts, wondering if
we are alone, in our angst asking if there is any meaning to this life, if our
lives mean anything at all, then think of Nathaniel, and how Jesus knew him. In
Christ God knows each and every one of us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He recognizes us for who we are, and bids us to follow him on the way.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Where there is meaninglessness, we find meaning in him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Where there is loneliness, we find companionship in him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Where there is rejection, we find acceptance in him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Where there is despair, we find hope in him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
And when we feel lost, alone, sitting under whatever
solitary tree we sit, rest assured, that even before we know or understand it,
Jesus has found us, loved us, and offered himself for us in boundless love.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
Daniel Graveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14152198947419055272noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7055186560940117954.post-9647303378815808072013-09-15T08:56:00.000-04:002013-09-15T08:56:44.594-04:00God Rejoices in the Recovery of the Lost - A Homily for Proper 24, Year C, 2013 "Rally Sunday"
<strong>Homily for Proper 24, Year C, 2013 “Rally Sunday”<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
Sunday, September 15<sup>th</sup>, 2013<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
Trinity Anglican Church, Bradford, ON<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
The Rev. Daniel F. Graves<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
Text: Luke 15:1-10<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<em>“There is much joy in heaven over one sinner who repents.”<o:p></o:p></em></div>
-Luke 15:10.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
There are many ways in which we can become lost or feel
lost.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In today’s gospel we hear of a God
who rejoices in the recovery of lost sinners.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It is like finding the one lost sheep, or the one lost silver coin –
even though you may still have ninety-nine more sheep, or nine more silver
coins, you still rejoice in the recovery of the one that was lost because it is
so precious.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The passage that follows
this one, that beloved parable of the prodigal, speaks of the recovery of a
lost and found son – moving the analogy away from chattel and money, to a
person, a son, something even more precious.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Sin is but one way we can become or feel lost.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we sin we separate ourselves from the ones
we love, and from God. There is much emphasis in Scripture and in Christian
theology about how sin can destroy lives and break communities.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What we sometimes forget to emphasize, though
is the restoring and healing power of the grace of God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I once heard of a pastor who preached
twenty-six week sermon series on sin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I
thought, “I sure hope he spends another twenty-six weeks (at least) on grace!” The
point is not that we should not talk about sin – it is a reality with which we
all struggle – but rather that we should talk abundantly about grace.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Every community and every individual will struggle with sin
and its effects.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is no different
for us as a parish, or for us as individuals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But let us hold fast to our faith and hope that God’s grace is not only
the remedy but the answer to sin. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
I do want to propose another idea, though, which much more
radical, and yet in some ways might seem like a “no-brainer”, namely, that God’s
grace is the remedy and answer to so much more than sin.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thus, when we hear of God rejoicing over the
recovery of lost sinners in the parables of the lost sheep, lost coin, or lost
son, I think we might open our ears and our hearts to hearing more about God’s
grace than his delight over the recovery of sinners, only, as wonderful a thing
as that is!<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
There are many times in life when we feel or find ourselves
lost.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It may be the result of sin, to be
sure, but perhaps it was someone else’s sin that has hurt and isolated us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or perhaps it was an inexplicable,
uncontrollable turn of events.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or
perhaps it is just the circumstances of life, of aging, or of illness that
makes us feel lost.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is there help for us
on these occasions? Is there grace for us in these moments?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
I want to think for a moment about these last few years in
our parish.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This week we begin our
fourth year together in shared ministry in this community.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The events that brought us together were, to
be frank, as series of unhappy events.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>parish had known much
hardship and had felt betrayed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I think
it safe to say that amongst many of you there was a feeling of being lost as a
church.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For my own part, I left for the
first time in my life my own home town where I was comfortable, accepted and at
home, to enter into a new ministry in a place where I was not sure I would be
accepted, and with an expectation that caused much fear and trembling.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>While I was excited, I have to admit to
feeling a little bit lost, and out of my depth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And yet, something wonderful and remarkable happened that brought us,
together, from that feeling of being lost and from that place of fear: that
something was God’s grace.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
In these three years together we have worked hard. In these
three years together we have accomplished much.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In these three years together we have found much healing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And what has been the cause of all of this?
We can speak of hard work, and we have worked hard together to be sure, but I
think what we must really speak about is the grace of God. People can work
hard, but without God’s grace can we really accomplish the goals of the
kingdom? <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
We are called to be faithful, and I believe that over the
years, in the midst of great adversity you have been faithful; this parish has
remained ever-faithful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As a priest, I
am called to be faithful and model faithfulness, but like you, I am human and
can easily falter and fail.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We have come
through challenging times, but we celebrate accomplishments today because not a
single one of them has been achieved without faithfulness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And we celebrate the one who has been
faithful through it all, even when our faithfulness has seemed precarious. We
celebrate our Lord, and his faithfulness. We celebrate the faithfulness of
God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We celebrate that even though we
have felt lost, we have been found. We celebrate even more humbly and joyfully
because we realize from Scripture that God rejoices over the recovery of what
seemed lost.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
I believe that healing, restoration, wholeness – these things
are the victory of God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Healing, restoration,
and wholeness is the journey we have been on together, with Christ as our
master and our guide.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As darkness turns
to light in his presence the road is made easier and more navigable. Healing,
restoration and wholeness is the journey which is really only brought to
completion at the consummation of all things when Christ draws all unto himself
and is all in all, when the dead rise in perfect glory.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet, the healing, restoration, and wholeness
we experience along the way is evidence and a signpost of that complete and
perfect healing we shall know in Christ at the last.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I believe we can be confident that God
rejoices with us today as we find ourselves on this place along the road.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And that is truly a gift for this present
moment, and so we should rejoice today as well.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Therefore, we praise and thank God for his faithfulness in
leading us from being lost. We thank God for finding us as we grope along the
way, taking questionable turns and following meandering paths.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We thank God because in reality, although we
may feel lost at times, he has never really lost us, we just lose ourselves,
but in Christ, we are never, ever lost to God.<o:p></o:p></div>
Daniel Graveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14152198947419055272noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7055186560940117954.post-74667935162470992692013-09-08T08:54:00.001-04:002013-09-08T08:54:15.901-04:00Counting the Costs - A Homily for Proper 23, Year C, 2013
<strong>Homily for Proper 23, Year C, 2013<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
Sunday, September 8<sup>th</sup>, 2013<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
Trinity Anglican Church, Bradford, ON<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
The Rev. Daniel F. Graves<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
Text: Luke 14:25-33</strong><br />
<o:p></o:p><br />
<em>
“Whoever does not carry the cross and follow me cannot be my
disciple.”<o:p></o:p></em><br />
-Luke 14:27<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Not too long ago, a friend of mine who is a priest in a
rural setting made the comment, “You know Dan, all ministry has a cost.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What he was talking about was the personal
cost for us as clergy. He meant that if we want to do ministry, we have to
expect that it will take a toll on us personally, that we will have to make
sacrifices that are hard, and that this is a good thing for the sake of the
gospel. His comments especially had to do with how it is sometimes harder for
clergy in more isolated rural areas, and how the costs for a cleric and their
families is sometimes greater than those in urban and suburban settings. The
support networks aren’t there, and sometimes it feels like colleagues in the
bigger, city churches just don’t understand what rural ministry is like.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Usually the funding of such ministries is a
struggle, sometimes because of this, it is hard to find good clergy to go to
such places, and the ones that offer themselves do so at incredible personal
cost.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
My friend was talking about the more rural areas of this
Diocese, but in my years working for the National Church, I met a lot of clergy
(and bishops!) from truly isolated places in this country and around the word,
and I can say that it is true, that many clergy have indeed sacrificed much for
the gospel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I surely count myself
blessed to be in this wonderful place in which the challenges we have had to meet
have been relatively easy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To be sure we
have had to make sacrifices, our shared ministry has had its costs to count,
but we are truly blessed.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Today’s lesson from St. Luke reminds us to count the costs
of ministry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The words of Jesus are hard
ones.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unless we are willing to abandon,
nay hate (!) family are we able to follow Jesus? How about giving up all our
possessions?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Which one of us is able to
do these things?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is Jesus actually asking
us to do these things? <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Perhaps Jesus is indulging in a bit of hyperbole here.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He also speaks of the builder who carefully
measures how much the project will cost and does not take on the project unless
he knows he can finish it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He speaks,
too, of the king who first considers if he can win the battle before he wages
the war.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Is Jesus asking us to sell all?
Is he asking us to abandon our families?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
As I have noted before, and as we have been discovering in
our Gospel of Luke study, we are pretty confident that Luke’s Gospel was written
to a wealthy house church, whose patron was a wealthy householder named
Theophilus. When today’s passage is taken in the context of the whole gospel, I
think things become a bit clearer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Luke
consistently relates stories and sayings of Jesus that encourage those who have
much to use what they have not for their self-aggrandizement, not for their own
glory, but for the building up of the kingdom of God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This means breaking down those social
boundaries of rich and poor, and counting the outcast and the weak as
family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It means using what one has been
blessed with, not in small measure, but in sacrificial measure, to right the inequities
of the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It means using the power
that has providentially fallen upon them to reorder the world under the
principles of God’s righteousness, God’s justice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Jesus suggests, throughout Luke’s Gospel, that the poor
already have a leg up on the rich, ironically enough, for they have nothing to
lose.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They have nothing that holds them
back from clinging fully to Jesus. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They
have nothing that holds them back from following Jesus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They have no investments to worry about, or
great houses to tend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They can follow
Jesus without counting the cost, because the cost of not following him is even
greater for them.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
But for those who have much, who have to worry about mother
or father; or for those who have to worry about their homes and their
investments, about their staff or their status, following Jesus is much harder
and the cost is greater.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is why
Jesus says be like the builder who counts the cost of his building project.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is why Jesus says be like the king who
carefully establishes whether or not he can defeat the enemy. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The cost of not finishing the building or
winning the war is great.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you cannot
bear the ultimate cost, then do not embark on the project in the first place.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
This is why Jesus reveals to them the worst case scenarios
of discipleship.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those who love you most
may hate you for following Jesus, and you may have to say goodbye to them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now this may not actually happen, but it has
the potential to happen, and Jesus asks, are you prepared for it? We know of
course that the way of Jesus is the way of the cross.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you follow on my way, are you prepared to
take up your own cross? Will you suffer death for my sake as I am prepared to
suffer death for yours?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
These may seem like distant questions to us, but there are
many Christians around the world whose families would hate them for becoming
Christians.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are people who have
given up everything to serve Jesus, at extraordinary financial cost.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And even in these days we hear of people
dying for their faith. There are Christians still taking up their cross and
dying for Jesus, confessing their faith.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In truth, when we cast our glance a bit farther afield that normal, we
will find these stories not that distant after all.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
But what of the cost of ministry here in Bradford?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps the scale is not the same as Jesus
suggests in today’s gospel, and yet, Jesus uses the extreme case to illustrate
inclusively all manner of sacrifice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
road to recovery in this parish has been a hard one. There is no denying
that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of you have made sacrifices to
restore this church to a place where it can offer viable ministry that makes an
impact in this community.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And during
harder times, you made extraordinary sacrifices to keep this church community
alive hoping against hope for a better day, working tirelessly in faithfulness
to those who built, and in commitment to those who will follow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most importantly, in the midst of
extraordinary sacrifice, you continued to believe in and follow a loving God
who has never left you, even during challenging times. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You continued to believe in God’s mission.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You continued to believe in the kingdom
values of the Gospel, even though the cost was great. Together and as
individuals, each of you something of the cost of discipleship.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
But there is one other point, a very important point that is
perhaps not so evident from today’s passage from Luke, but becomes clear in
light of the whole gospel story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we
count the cost of discipleship, we can do so with confidence in the outcome, in
confidence of what we have to give up, that the cost will not be so great that
we cannot bear it, because it is not ours to bear alone.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, we must take up our crosses, but only
because Christ has first taken up his.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our
crosses are bearable, because the weight of all those crosses is shared in the
weight of the cross that he carried on his shoulders.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And when the weight seems so heavy, when it
feels like we are buried under the weight, like we are in a tomb, and we cry
who shall roll the stone away, the stone is moved, the weight of the cross is
lifted, and the light of the resurrection breaks through!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Discipleship has a cost, to be sure. And it is a cost that
must be counted and faced if we wish to follow Jesus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet, we must never think that it is our cost
to bear alone. We must never think that the weight of the cross falls fully on
our shoulders.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We will be called upon to
bear our portion, but that portion will be all the lighter when we realize that
we are part of host of witnesses, a company of disciples, each bearing one
another in love through hardship, and bearing us all up, is the one who takes
the weight of the world on his shoulders, Christ our God.<o:p></o:p></div>
Daniel Graveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14152198947419055272noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7055186560940117954.post-3934540583434913482013-06-23T07:46:00.002-04:002013-06-23T07:50:22.131-04:00Freedom from the Tombs - A Homily for Proper 12, Year C, 2013<strong>Homily for Proper 12, Year C, 2013<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
Sunday, June 23rd, 2013<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
Trinity Anglican Church, Bradford, ON<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
The Rev. Daniel F. Graves<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
Text: Luke 8:26-39<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
If we believe that Christ has set us free, that Christ
brings us new life, and that we have that life in abundance, then what does it
truly mean to be free, and to live in abundance and joy?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>St. Luke tells us of a man possessed of
demons. The demons that lived within him had robbed him of his freedom and of
his life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are told that he no longer
lived amongst his community. He did not live in a house, but in the tombs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are told that he wore no clothing, but
went about naked.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are told that when
he lost control, people would chain him, but the demons within were so strong that
they could not be contained.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No one
could do anything for him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He was a man
without a home, without a community, without dignity, without a future – he had
been robbed of his life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He had been a
man of the people, a man of the city, and now he was alone with his demons,
living as if in hell, living and yet not living at all, residing in the tombs
as if he were already dead.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
And yet, even as he struggled with the thousand demons that
robbed him of his life, his dignity, and his joy, he was not without hope.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps it was a only a shred of hope that he
clung to, but it was hope, nonetheless, for when Jesus set foot in his country,
he ran to him and fell down before the Lord.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But the man could not even form his own words.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was the demons who spoke, whose words
formed on his lips. These demons feared Jesus. They feared the man to whom
their host had brought them, for they knew that he was more than a man, that he
was the son of the Most High God!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so
they shouted and spewed at Jesus, “what have you to do with me?” and then
begged him, “Do not torment me.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
The demons knew true power when they saw it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For years they had tormented this poor man
who had been their host. For years they had robbed him of his life and
joy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For years they had used and abused him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But when that man struggled against them, and
brought them to Jesus, they cowered as if powerless.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They tried to make a deal with Jesus, for
they knew he had the power to bind them and send them into the abyss, whence
they had come.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They asked him to free them
and find them another host -- perhaps that heard of swine over yonder.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We don’t often think of Jesus as a trickster,
but trick them he did. He allowed the demons to enter the herd, and
immediately, the herd charged over a cliff to their deaths.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, you may ask, what happened to the
demons?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A demon without a host his
robbed of its power, and hurled into the abyss.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
What of the man who had been possessed of this legion of
demons?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
He was free.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not only
was he free, he was so thankful to Jesus that he wanted to become a disciple
and follow him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jesus granted rather
that he should be his follower, but not as wandering missionary, but in his
home country.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What did people discover
about this man when they saw him afresh? They found him clothed, and returned
to his home.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jesus gave him back all
that he had lost, and more!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not only did
this man regain his dignity, not only did he regain his home, and his
community, but he was given the good news to share with those he loved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jesus would not restore his freedom only to
enslave him again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jesus did not demand
that he leave his mother and his brothers and follow him (as he had done with
others), rather, he commanded him to return home and spread the joy of his
freedom, the joy of his liberation, the joy of his salvation with those he
loved dearest and best.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
What does it mean for us to find freedom and new life in
Christ?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For some it will mean a journey
into an unknown land, for others it will mean a transformed life in their own
country, but for both, it means freedom from the demons that threaten to rob us
of life, liberty, and joy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When Jesus
cast demons from Mary Magdalene, she became part of his retinue, a partner in
his itinerant ministry. When Jesus cast demons from the Gerasene man, he became
a witness in his home town to all Jesus had done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Both had their demons, and each had their own
special calling in the kingdom of God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What
is clear in both cases though, is that they could not rid themselves of their
demons, they needed Jesus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The most they
could do, in their struggle with what possessed them and robbed them of life
was to fall down at the feet of Jesus. And when they took that risk, when they
used their last remaining strength to fall down before the Lord, the demons
cowered before the Most High, and left them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Whether our demons be of the spiritual kind or of any other
sort, they cower before Jesus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jesus has
the power to heal us and deliver us from the demons we host within
ourselves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are the demons of our
broken history, both personal and cultural.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There are the demons of bigotry.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There are the demons of unhealthy desire and lust.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are the demons of avarice and greed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are the demons of abuse and neglect. There
are the demons of unforgiveness. But these demons all cower before the God of
love and peace.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They cower before the
power of the gentleness and tenderness. They cower before the power that
defeats sin on the cross and death amongst the tombs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They cower before Jesus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God’s healing power is there for all, but
there is one other detail in these stories that must never be forgotten, each
of these people comes to Jesus, or when they are too ill to do so themselves, a
loved one brings them to him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
We cannot save ourselves; only Christ saves us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, we must want to be saved. We must
want the demons cast out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How many of us
have known people who seem happy in their misery, who seem to take joy in the
demons that haunt their lives?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How many
of us have even wallowed in the delight of misery from time-to-time.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For those who delight in misery, who take pride
in the demons that haunt them … well, I will not venture to guess what will
come of them, but Scripture is clear about those who come to Jesus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Can it be expressed any better than in his
own words, “Come unto me all ye who weary and are carrying heavy burdens, and I
shall give you rest”?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Everyone who comes
to Jesus, who brings their demons before him, will meet a Lord who gives them
rest.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What he gives each of us might be
very different, and to be sure, as the demons are cast out, we may learn we have
certain crosses to bear, but these crosses lead us to new life, not the tombs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
Daniel Graveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14152198947419055272noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7055186560940117954.post-18623308848077083342013-05-19T07:21:00.002-04:002013-05-19T07:21:33.832-04:00Joint Heirs with Christ - A Sermon for Pentecost, Year C, 2013<span style="font-family: "Times New Roman","serif"; font-size: 12pt; mso-ansi-language: EN-CA; mso-bidi-language: AR-SA; mso-fareast-font-family: Calibri; mso-fareast-language: EN-US; mso-fareast-theme-font: minor-latin;">
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">A Homily for
Pentecost, Year C, 2013<o:p></o:p></b></span><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Sunday, May 19<sup>th</sup>,
2013<o:p></o:p></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Trinity Anglican
Church, Bradford, ON<o:p></o:p></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The Rev. Daniel F.
Graves<o:p></o:p></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Text: Romans 8:14-17<o:p></o:p></b><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“For all who are led
by the Spirit are children of God.”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
Romans 8:14<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
If we are to truly comprehend the great mystery that is
Pentecost, we must not simply rest in hearing once again the story of the Holy
Spirit falling on the disciples of Jesus that first Christian Pentecost.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As important as it is to meditate on the
event that was Pentecost for the Apostles, it is even more important for us to
meditate on our own Pentecost, on our own experience of the Holy Spirit, and what
we are given in the Pentecost of our faith.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>If<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the story of tongues of fire
and the sudden understanding of foreign languages seems foreign to our
experience, then ought we not to probe more fully into the activity of the Spirit
of God in our own lives to truly comprehend what the gift of the Holy Spirit
might mean?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In fact, this is precisely
what St. Paul does in these four short verses in the eighth chapter of his
epistle to the Romans.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
St. Paul begins with these words, “for all who are led by
the Spirit of God are children of God.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This is a powerful assertion of who we are in Christ.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In Christ, through the action of the Holy
Spirit, we become God’s children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am a
child of God. You are a child of God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What makes this so?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is the
Holy Spirit of God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The English
translation, though, makes the Spirit sound somewhat passive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When Paul speaks of the Spirit of God leading
us, it sounds as though the Spirit is passing by and we choose to join in, to
follow along.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet, when Paul speaks of
being led by the Spirit, this might be more properly understood as being driven
by the Spirit, moved by the Spirit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This
sounds much more akin to that first Pentecost when the Spirit falls upon the
early Christians and they begin to uncontrollably utter strange tongues.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Spirit is not a gentle breeze that blows
by, but a wind that rages through, or flame that burns passionately.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Spirit is anything but passive, it does
not simply burn, but blazes; it does not simply blow, but rather rushes like a
gale-force wind.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All of this is to say
that Spirit comes to us with great power, a power to awaken us, to enliven us,
to move us in a different direction, to change us.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
And this is precisely, according to Paul, what the Spirit does.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we are led, nay driven! by the Holy
Spirit, our very identity changes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
Spirit that falls upon us, burns within us, rushes through us, is not a spirit
that subjects us once again to slavery, or even to a new slavery, but delivers
us once and for all from all slavery, bringing us into a new-found freedom as
children of God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Slavery is what we knew
before Christ; being a child of God is what we know in Christ.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Pentecost is the answer to one of the great questions that
is begged by the Christ event, namely “how does the Incarnation of God in Jesus
Christ, his passion, his resurrection, and his ascension do anything for me?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How does what happens to Jesus affect me? It
is an interesting question.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we say “Jesus
died for my sins,” or “Jesus rose from the dead and gave me new life,” what are
we saying, and how do those actions of Jesus transfer to me? What difference
does God becoming human make for me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How
does the death of Jesus on the cross take away my sins?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How is it that I am to receive the benefits
of his passion? How does his resurrection give me new life?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What is it that connects Jesus with me and me
with Jesus?<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
It is the Holy Spirit.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Consider for a moment the story of St. Mary the virgin. How
does God enter into humanity?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How does
God, who is above and beyond all creation, become a part of creation?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How does God take human flesh? It is through
the agency of the Holy Spirit who falls upon her that humanity is joined to
divinity in unconfused perfection.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In
her womb, the Holy Spirit knits together humanity and divinity. Through the
Spirit of God, God comes to us, as one of us, that our humanity might be joined
to his divinity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Without the Holy
Spirit, Jesus is merely a man.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>With the
Holy Spirit, he is the Word of God, the Logos, bringing God’s redemption not
only to the race of humanity, but to the entire cosmos.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is through the work of the Spirit that God
is with us.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
But more than God being with us, we are brought into the
life of God in a new and startling way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Where once we were slaves to sin, where once we relied solely on the
flawed works of our own flesh, where once death meant despair, in the new
reality of Pentecost, we become part of God’s family, freed from the slavery of
sin, relieved of working out our salvation on our own merit, delivered from the
fear of death, all because we are children of the living God.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
The Holy Spirit joins us to Christ in a new and profound
way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His sonship becomes ours
sonship.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where he is a child of God by
the power of the Spirit, so too, do we become children of God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are no longer captives to the Spirit of
slavery, no longer simple retainers in the household or even hired hands, but
members of the family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
And this is why Jesus taught us to pray, “Our Father, who
art in heaven.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is the one prayer
that Jesus taught us and it begins with our bold proclamation of the new
reality we find when we are joined with Christ through the power of the Holy Spirit.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It boldly proclaims that God is our
father.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We do not pray to him as “our
master,” but as “our father.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is
how Jesus taught us to pray, and he taught us to pray thus because when we are
in Christ Jesus. By the power of the Holy Spirit, we are God’s sons and
daughters. This is why St. Paul says, “when we cry ‘Abba! Father!’ it is that
very Spirit bearing witness with our spirit that we are children of God.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You see, the Holy Spirit leads, or perhaps
more poignantly, drives our spirit in that bold proclamation that God is our
father, that we are his children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When
under our own power we would dare not make that claim, and in our own weakness
perhaps we cannot claim it, the Holy Spirit gives us the grace and strength to
own it with all our being.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
And that is why, St. Paul continues, “if children, then
heirs, heirs of God and joint heirs with Christ.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Being an heir is a vastly different thing
than being a slave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We do not assume our
role as heir on our own though.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we
are once in slavery, it is near impossible to find ourselves free again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is near impossible for a slave to earn
their way out of slavery, nor is it ever likely that a slave will have the
means to buy themselves out of slavery.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>If we are slaves we must rely on the grace of another.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That other is none other than Jesus, the true
Son of God, who through the working of the Holy Spirit joins us for a moment in
our slavery that we might for all time find freedom as sons and daughters of
God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Through the Holy Spirit he joins us
in the slavery of our humanity, that we me might join him in the freedom of his
sonship.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is what St. Paul means
when he talks about us suffering with Christ that we might also be glorified
with him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He is with us in the depths, that
we might be raised with him in the family of God, not only as sons and
daughters, but as joint heirs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are
not even second- or third-born children who might be passed by, but like Jesus,
we are first born and privy to all the glory that that privilege brings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Through the power of the Holy Spirit, Christ
brings us into the family of God<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>not in
some partial or imperfect way, but in glorious excellence and marvellous
egalitarian love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Christ share his
firstborn life with us, every one of us, when we are led and moved by the
Spirit.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
This is the deeper meaning of Pentecost in our lives, that
the work of Christ is not some objective work of God that we gaze upon from a
distance, but a work that transforms our very identity from being slaves to
sin, and striving, and death, to deliverance, to freedom and life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And that work of God in Christ is made the
work that transforms us, by the power of the Holy Spirit placing Christ in us
that we might dwell evermore in him.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
Daniel Graveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14152198947419055272noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7055186560940117954.post-26900183944544507902013-04-21T08:26:00.001-04:002013-04-21T08:26:20.597-04:00The Helper of the Helpless and the Saviour of the Lost - A Homily for Easter 4, Year C, 2013
<strong>Homily for Easter IV, Year C, 2013</strong><br />
<strong>Sunday, April 21st, 2013</strong><br />
<strong>Trinity Anglican Church, Bradford</strong><br />
<strong>The Rev. Daniel F. Graves</strong><br />
<strong>Text: John 10:22-30</strong><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="display: none; mso-hide: all;"><o:p> </o:p></span></div>
Jesus’ claim of John chapter 10 to be the Good Shepherd, and
the reminder in Psalm 23 that Jesus our Lord is indeed our shepherd, seem well
suited to reflect on the events of the past week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Whether it be the bombing in Boston, the
explosion in Texas, or the earthquake in China; if it be the heightened
tensions in the Korean Peninsula; or if it be the general feeling that the
world is coming apart, the Good Shepherd has words of hope, compassion, and
love for us still.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
We stand a step removed from the terrible events of the past
week, and yet the ever-watchful eye of the media draws us into the nexus of the
horror and pain that is felt any time disaster strikes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What if it were us?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so the pain of others easily becomes a
pain we carry, for we can see that it might have easily been one of us, or one
we love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even though we stand somewhat
removed from the terror, we find ourselves somehow locked in its grasp. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
But for those who were there, even as for those of us who
were not; for those who have lost so much, even as for those of us who only
feel their loss from a distance, God searches and seeks for us, in our fear, in
our sorrow, in our grief, and in our loss.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“I am the Good Shepherd, and I know mine own and mine own know me.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
The great comfort of the Christian gospel is that in
precisely moments like these when we ask “where was God?” the answer comes, “here
is God.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We shall never truly understand
the answer as to why God does not intervene to prevent evil, or to prevent the
forces of nature from causing destruction, or to correct human error to prevent
accidents.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps there are moments
when God intervenes, and yet, there are so many when he does not. We have to
deal with a universe that unfolds by defined laws and human free will, but does
that mean that God is not present, that God does not care?<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Quite the opposite, I think.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The whole story of the gospel is that God does care; God does care about
the suffering of his people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the
person of Christ Jesus he enters into our world, into our humanity, and joins
our suffering to his – the true definition of “compassion” – to feel with, to
suffer with.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God suffers alongside us
and God feels our pain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What is more,
God is at work in our lives and in our world redeeming our suffering and
redeeming our pain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is in the moments
in which we feel most abandoned, most alone, most forgotten, that he reminds us
that he has never and will never abandon us: “Even when you walk through the
valley of the shadow of death, I am with you. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My rod and staff, they comfort you.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is in these moments that the Good Shepherd
is seeking us out, calling our names, and reminding us that even though the wrong
seems oft so strong, God is the ruler yet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>His rule is a gentle one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
rules as a comforter and refuge, a hope in times of trouble. God’s rule is one
in which we learn that the events of the day, as powerful and as awful as they
may be, shall not be the story that shapes our lives, but rather his compassion
and mercy shall shape our story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It has
often been said during this week, and I think the sentiment is a good one, “when
you see evil, when you see harm, look for the helpers.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is in acts of mercy, compassion,
self-giving and goodness that we shall see the loving hand of the Good
Shepherd.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
This brings us to a second thought about the Good Shepherd
in light of the events of the past week.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Many people have died.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The same
questions abound, the same “whys” are cried out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And for a time, perhaps the only answer is
silence.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, as I look back on the
losses of my own life, and as I ponder the mystery of death, I come to realize
that although my loved ones have been plucked out of my hands, they have not
been plucked out of the hands of God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>A
passage often read at funerals, from the Wisdom of Solomon reminds us, “The
souls of the righteous are in the hands of God.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And again, hear the words of the Good
Shepherd:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“My sheep hear my voice, and I
know them, and they follow me; and I give them eternal life, and they shall
never perish, and no one shall snatch them out of my hand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My Father who has given them to me, is
greater than all and no one is able to snatch them out of the Father’s hand.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There is nothing else I can do for the
dead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is a harsh and dreadful
reality, but even though they have been snatched away from me, they cannot be
snatched away from God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In God, even in
death, they find eternal life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>So while
human mourning and grief are real, and often crippling, once again, our hope is
not in human hands, but in the hands of the almighty, who will not lose even
one of his own. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Thus, we find in the
Christian gospel words of comfort, but the gospel brings not only comfort, but
challenge.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
And so this brings me to a third thought, a challenging and
difficult thought, and for this I will veer away from the Good Shepherd for a moment
and to St. Luke’s Sermon on the Plain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This question has to do with those who hurt us. I first began to
formulate these thoughts earlier in the week when I heard of the sickening
behaviour that was taking place in London after Lady Thatcher’s death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As we have all heard, parties broke out and
people began singing “Ding, Dong, the witch is dead,” and danced on her
grave.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Anyone who participates in such
behaviour and calls themselves a Christian is due for a serious reality check
and a review of the words of Jesus found in St. Luke’s Sermon on the
Plain.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, I would be the last one to
eulogize Lady Thatcher for the way she governed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are many that credit her with saving
her country and there are others who claim great suffering under her
regime.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>First of all, this is the cost
of democracy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We shall have leaders who
will pursue policies we do not like, and we shall have the freedom to stand
against them. We shall have leaders that do harm, and leaders that shall do
good, and we shall often disagree on what constitutes harm and good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We shall have leaders that we hate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I ask you to consider the words of Jesus
from Luke chapter 6, and consider what transpired in London: “But I say to you
that hear, Love your enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who
curse you, pray for those who abuse you.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In our Bible study on Luke this week, we reflected on this passage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is perhaps the most revolutionary and
world-changing claim of the gospel. Judaism knew “Love your neighbour,” and
indeed that is a core value for us, but “love your enemy?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We find this a hard pill to swallow.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Aren’t we supposed to hate our enemies?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not if we are Christians.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
And what does it mean to “love our enemy?” Well, Jesus tells
us: do good to them, bless them, pray for them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This means that what happened in London when people danced on the grave
of Lady Thatcher was the most profoundly unchristian, and indeed,
anti-Christian act that one could imagine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Do the words of Jesus mean anything to us when we behave in such a
shameful way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now we may say that was
not us; that we were not there dancing on the grave, but now consider the
events of Boston.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There was much
rejoicing at the killing of one suspected perpetrator and the capture of
another.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Should we rejoice that an
evildoer is caught?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>By all means.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Should we congratulate those who bring
wrong-doers to justice? By all mean.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Should we breath a sigh of relief that the innocent are once again safe?
By all means.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But should we rejoice in
the death of a sinner?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I dare say, we
should not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Should we rejoice in the humiliation
of a deluded young man?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I dare say, we
should not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To be sure, justice is a principle of the gospel,
as well as mercy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>People must be kept
safe and those who are dangerous must be removed so as to ensure the public
good.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And yet, we can be merciful in all
of this.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We should not puff ourselves up
with false pride and dance on the grave of a young man who, for whatever
mystifying reason turned to wickedness and chose to harm his fellow human
beings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We should not abuse the abuser
with torture or humiliation, for even the sinner is still a child of God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It may be hard to love ones such as these,
but can we at least aspire to a greater humanity than what has been
demonstrated by their actions? Shall we at least do good to them, where they
were unable to do good to us?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shall we
pray for them with hope in our hearts, where they felt their prayers of no
avail for us?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shall we find mercy for them,
where they felt no mercy for us?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jesus
reminds us with these very words, “that God is kind to the ungrateful and the
wicked,” and then admonishes us, “be merciful, even as your Father is merciful.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These are hard words.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But then I realize that those two boys could
just as easily have been my children, or you children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even in the midst of all that they had done
wrong, would I still not desire mercy even as justice is accordingly meted
out?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Would I still not hope, beyond hope,
that something good might be salvaged in them?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Would I not pray for them if they were my children, or your children?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And here is the rub, they are God’s children,
as wicked as they might be, and we learn that God is kind to the ungrateful and
the wicked, and that we ought to be merciful as he is merciful.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
We need not condone what they did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nor should we suggest that justice should not
be done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet we ought not to descend
into a mutual or similar barbarism and rejoice in wrongdoing or bloodlust.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is not the Christian.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is not Christian holiness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is not the way of Jesus. The Good
Shepherd is a loving shepherd, a merciful shepherd, a shepherd that seeks out
the lost, all the while caring for those closest to him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so an old prayer from the prayer book comes to mind as I draw
this to a close, <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
“Be mindful, O Lord, of thy people bowed before thee ….
Succour all those who are in tribulation, necessity or distress.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Remember for good all those that love us, and
those that hate us, and those who have desired us, unworthy as we are to pray
for them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For thou art the helper of the
helpless, and the saviour of the lost.” Amen.</div>
Daniel Graveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14152198947419055272noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7055186560940117954.post-61163163835023350252013-03-31T18:10:00.002-04:002013-03-31T18:10:54.131-04:00Why Do You Seek the Living Among the Dead? - A Homily for Easter, 2013
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Homily for Easter,
2013<o:p></o:p></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Sunday, March 31<sup>st</sup>,
2013<o:p></o:p></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Trinity Anglican
Church, Bradford, ON<o:p></o:p></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The Rev. Daniel F.
Graves<o:p></o:p></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Text: Luke 24: 1-12<o:p></o:p></b><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;"><o:p>"</o:p></i><i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">Why do you seek the
living among the dead?”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">-Luke 24:5<o:p></o:p></i><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
The women who faithfully remained with Jesus as he hung upon
the cross, who were there when his body was laid in the tomb, were the first to
come to that tomb on the early morning following their Sabbath observance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their spices were prepared, and they had come
to anoint his body.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To their great
surprise though, the stone that covered the tomb had been removed; and to their
even greater surprise they encountered two men, garbed in dazzling apparel who
addressed them: “Why do you seek the living among the dead?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What a strange question this was.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their Lord was dead and they were here to
carry out their appointed task and ministrations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were not seeking the living; they were
indeed seeking the dead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
But the men stirred their memories – the memory of something
he had said early in his ministry in the Galilee, a memory that was clouded
with the passage of time and the dreadful reality of his failed mission which
ended on the cross.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The men asked the
women to remember. Remember what he said to you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Remember how he had told them that “the Son
of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men, and be crucified, and on
the third day rise.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Had they forgotten
this promise?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Or were they here,
actually seeking the living, did they remember, and hope, deep within
themselves in the sacred silence of their hearts that maybe, just maybe, he was
yet alive?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
When asked to remember, remember they did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They had not yet seen him, and yet the
stirring of their memory stirred within them the belief that he had risen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His words stirred within them and the seed
faith sprung to life in their hearts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
was not to be found amongst the tombs; he had burst the chains of death; he had
sprung forth from the tomb, and although he and not yet appeared to them, they
knew with confidence that he was alive.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
With great excitement they returned to the apostles and told
them all they had seen and all they had heard; and yet, the apostles believed
them not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The apostles who had heard the
same words, who were now being asked to remember what Jesus had told them way
back in their Galilean days might have remembered his words, but they could not
believe what they were being told by the women.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They castigated them for spreading “old wives’ tales.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They did not believe.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
But Peter, the first to have denied his Lord; Peter, who had
with deep shame wept over his denial; Peter the first among the apostles who
had proved to be the weakest when put to the test; something stirred in
Peter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps he remembered the words.
Perhaps deep within the silence of his own heart he hoped beyond hope that it
might be true.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps, just perhaps, he
might be given a second chance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so
against what must have been his better judgement he rose and ran to the
tomb.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And there, on the floor of the
tomb he found only the linen cloths.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He
had not yet seen Jesus, and yet, he was amazed and his unbelief became
belief.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
The women sought the living amongst the dead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Peter sought the living amongst the
dead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But the one who lives is not to be
found amongst the dead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They cannot
believe that he is alive and so they must seek out the place of the dead and
look for him. They had seen him die. They knew where he should have been, and
yet, that is not where God left him. He did not suffer his holy one to see
corruption. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Where do they find him?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>As we shall learn as we continue to read St. Luke’s gospel in
Eastertide, they meet him as they journey in loneliness, sadness and despair
along the Emmaus road. They meet him when they open the Scriptures and break
bread together.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They meet him in their
gathering together and they meet him in their going out into the world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They meet him when they forgive each other
their wrongs, and they meet him when they witness to his resurrection.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is all to say that they meet him, not at
a tomb, not amongst the dead but amongst the living.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
This is the very place we meet him today.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We meet him when we gather round this table
and share in receiving his risen and glorified body by faith with thanksgiving.
We meet him when we hear the words of the prophets and the apostles opened to
us, proclaimed and expounded. We meet him when we forgive each other the wrongs
we have done. We meet him when we wash each other’s feet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We meet him when we go out into the world to
serve him in the person of God’s most vulnerable children. We meet him not
amongst the dead, but amongst the living.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Seek the Lord where he may be found.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
But just as the Father did not leave Christ in hell, just as
he did not let his holy one see corruption, neither will he leave us amongst
the dead. He does not abandon us to the grave. He does not abandon us to our
sinful self-destruction.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He does not
leave us amongst the dead or in the tomb.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In the glorious resurrection of Christ we are swept up into the power of
his resurrected life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the resurrection
of Christ, Jesus’ hands reach out to us to pull us from the very depths of
despair, loneliness, brokenness, and sin. When we find ourselves walking
amongst the dead, he descends to the depths with us and rescues us, restores
us, redeems us, that we too might not be found amongst the dead, but the
living.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so that is where we find him
today, not amongst the dead, not in a tomb, but in our very midst, risen in
body and risen in the communion we share in this age, and risen in the
communion we shall know when the final trumpet sounds and we are all raised to
that new and glorious perfection.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Why do you seek the living amongst the dead?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are afraid it is not true.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are afraid that death will be the final
story that is written for us. We are afraid that what has been proclaimed to us
is a lie. But remember what he said.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Remember.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Remember that he said that
“the Son of Man must be delivered into the hands of sinful men, and be
crucified, and on the third day rise.” The Eucharist we share is an act of that
remembrance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is a remembrance that as
the grave could not contain him, so it shall not contain us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our shared ministry is a remembrance that
though the powers of death might seek to destroy us in this life, when we act
together in ministry we find hope and strength, endurance and fortitude, love
and mercy, because the risen Jesus is with us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When we serve each other, Jesus is with us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To remember what he said is not simply to recall
it, but to live into it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the men at
the tomb tell the women “he is not here,” they mean among the dead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we proclaim he is risen, we are saying
“he is here,” amongst the living.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
tomb is but a sign, the communion we share is the reality of Jesus risen from
the dead.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
Daniel Graveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14152198947419055272noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7055186560940117954.post-41963413059607676462013-03-29T08:45:00.001-04:002013-03-29T08:45:32.319-04:00Woman Behold Your Son; Son Behold Your Mother: A Sermon for Good Friday, 2013
<strong>Homily for Good Friday, 2013<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
Friday, March 29<sup>th</sup>, 2013<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
Trinity Anglican Church, Bradford, ON<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
The Rev. Daniel F. Graves<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
Text: John 18:1-19:42<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<em>“Woman behold your son; son behold your mother.”<o:p></o:p></em></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
In the church in which I grew up, a church dedicated to St.
Mary the Virgin, above the altar in the original church is a window.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the centre is Christ, on his right side
his mother reverently prays, on his left side, St. John, the beloved disciple
and author of the Fourth Gospel, stands with quill and book in hand as a
witness, testifying to the truth.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This
image is clearly meant to evoke the scene in the Gospel of St. John in which
Jesus, from the cross, commends his mother into St. John’s care and keeping
with the words, “Woman, behold your son; son behold your mother.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jesus is not portrayed on the cross in this
window, but rather as a priest offering the chalice to the faithful who are
gathered for worship in that church, in much the same spirit as the image of
Jesus portrayed in the window above the altar of this very church. The St. Mary’s
window invites us to join with St. Mary and St. John around the foot of the
cross and receive the benefits that are poured out in Jesus’ sacrifice.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
In that same church it was our custom, much as it is in this
very church, that during Holy Week we would follow the Way of the Cross, moving
from station to station, re-enacting the Passion of our Lord. In that parish, I
had a dear friend, whose name was Dorothy.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Dorothy was about my grandmother’s age and she was a spiritual mother to
me.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dorothy was one of those great servants
of the Church with a deep faith and a spirit of true Christian servant-hood,
she was a Christian friend to everyone and admired by all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Very early in my Christian journey she took
me under her wing and taught me the faith as a mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Dorothy had three children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When her only daughter Linda was in her thirties, Linda died of cancer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This was an extraordinary blow to Dorothy, especially
given that Linda had a young son, who was soon to pass into Dorothy’s
care.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One Wednesday in Holy Week, a day
I shall never forget, we were walking the Way of the Cross, and we got to the station
in which Jesus commends his mother into the care of the beloved disciple.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Canon Bob Leckey asked Dorothy to read the
Gospel appointed for that station.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She quietly
for a moment and then read, “Woman behold your son; son behold your mother,” and
we responded with the Trisagion, “Holy God, Holy and Mighty, Holy and Immortal
One, have mercy upon us.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After we had
finished walking the stations she shared with me how profoundly moving it had
been for her to be asked, on the spur of the moment, to read that particular passage.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I asked he why this was. She responded, “Dan,
only Jesus knows how I feel.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
It is said that there is no greater pain than losing a
child. It is also said that when this happens you feel so alone and no one can
understand what it is like. In that moment in which she read those sacred words
of the Gospel, Dorothy felt the grace and understanding of Christ wash over
her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Dorothy standing in the place of
Mary, but saying the words of Jesus, knew the comfort of his love poured out on
the cross.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She knew and understood at
the deepest possible level what Mary felt, for like Mary, she too had lost a
child.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She knew at that very moment what
St. John felt, for she knew what it was to have another trusted into her
care.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And yet, uttering the very words
of Jesus from the cross, she knew and felt his loving compassion, his deep care
and longing for her well-being, and the depth of his sacrifice for her.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Only Jesus knows how I feel.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
For Dorothy, the Church had always been, but became more and
more as the years rolled on, a family, her family.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>At the foot of the cross we receive our
salvation, not only for eternity, but for the present.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we lose so much, it can seem like we
cannot go on. When we make terrible mistakes it can seem like we cannot go
on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we lose those closest to us it
can seem like we cannot go on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And yet,
even as we lose, Jesus not only understands our pain, he ministers to us
through his church: “Woman behold your son; son behold your mother.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We become Mary.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We become the Beloved Disciple.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
In the Gospel of Mark, Jesus is speaking with his disciples
and he is interrupted by someone telling him that his mother and brothers and
sisters have arrived. What is his response?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>“Here are my mother and my brothera and my sisters.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is not that he does not care for his own
family; rather he radically and powerfully reorders our reality, he expands our
kinship.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For Christians, the ties of
kinship are not biological. They are spiritual.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That is why at the foot cross, St. John becomes the son of Mary, and
Mary becomes his mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is not
simply the story of Mary and John.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is
our story. This is what the cross does. As Christ is bound to the cross, we are
bound to each other both now and in the age to come.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The pain of loss is real, and yet the kinship
we share with each other in Christ is even greater.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
My dear friend Dorothy not only felt these things, she not
only believed them, she lived them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>She
became a mother, a mother in the Spirit, a mother in Christ, not only to me,
but to so many.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When she left this earth
at the age of 95 many of us felt a deep loss. How is such a gap to be
filled?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And yet, the words of Jesus echo
in our ears again to each of us as we stand by the grave of any loved. Look
about, “behold your mother; behold your son,” and “these are my mother, and my
brothers, and my sisters.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The kinship
we share is nothing less than the work of the cross. And the work of the cross
is that though death’s mightiest powers have done their worst, Jesus’ hath his
foes dispersed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What Jesus gives us in
our holy kinship is a faith, a hope, and a love stronger than death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jesus knows how we feel, and he ministers to
us through each other in the midst of it all.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
Daniel Graveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14152198947419055272noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7055186560940117954.post-63487578660468910352013-03-28T14:21:00.003-04:002013-03-29T08:48:03.887-04:00The Servant-Friend: A Homily for Maundy Thursday, 2013<strong>Homily for Maundy Thursday, 2013<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
Thursday, March 28<sup>th</sup>, 2013<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
Trinity Anglican Church, Bradford ON<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
The Rev. Daniel F. Graves<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
Text: John 13:1-17; 31-35<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
How difficult it can be for us to receive an act of kindness
at the hands of another!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As this holy
day of Maundy Thursday calls us to renew our own ministry of servant-hood it
occurs to me that many of us are more comfortable taking up that role of
servant than allowing others to serve.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>To be sure, if we are to be like our master, we are called not to be
served but to serve.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And yet, sometimes
serving allows us to hide our own vulnerability, and strangely, in serving we
find ourselves exercising power over those we serve.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I cannot imagine that this is what Jesus
intended by calling us to a ministry of servant-hood.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Serving is not about us determining how we
might serve, but listening to the needs of the vulnerable and the needy in our
midst, and serving them as they need, not as we think they need.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we decide what others need we exercise
power over them and when they do not wish to receive what we so beneficently bestow
upon them we become angered that our charity and philanthropy are rejected, and
then we no longer consider them worthy of our graciousness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is not the servant ministry to which we
are called by Jesus.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Jesus put his disciples in a difficult spot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He asked them to put themselves in that
position of vulnerability in which we are served and ministered to by
another.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jesus, the master, takes off
his outer garment, the robe of rank, and ties the towel of a servant around his
waist and washes the feet of his disciples. Surely, they must have felt
extremely awkward at this overturning of the social order, but even more significantly,
they felt vulnerable.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps they felt
a loss of control.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This seems very clear
from Peter’s response.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He wished to turn
the loving gesture of Jesus into a utilitarian act.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not just my feet, Lord, bathe my whole body;
I need a good bath! Peter sought to control the experience. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It was difficult for him to allow himself to
be served by Jesus. Perhaps his request to have his whole body washed was an
attempt for him not only to control the experience but even to play into Jesus
role-reversal somewhat.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps he takes
upon himself the role of the master who, in having his feet washed, commands the
servant to do more.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But ministry in
Jesus’ kingdom is not about lording it over each other; rather, it is about
loving one another. “I give you a new commandment,” says Jesus, “Love one
another, as I have loved you.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is
the origin of the name of this day, Maundy Thursday.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jesus gives us a new commandment, a new
mandatum, a new “maundy.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
How difficult it can be for us to receive the love of
another.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When you are given a compliment
that is offered in true earnestness, when a dear one offers a gift made from
the sweat of their toil, when your beloved offers themselves lovingly,
sometimes we are so humbled it is difficult to receive their loving acts with
grace. What Jesus was doing, more than teaching us how to serve one another,
was teaching us how to love one another.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Love requires great vulnerability.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Can we open ourselves to each other in ways in which we risk being hurt?
Can we kneel before each other in ways in which we risk losing our own power
that we might find strength together?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
When Jesus kneels before his friends, he does so not as
master and servant or servant and master, but as friends. Jesus will say to
them, “I no longer call you servants, I call you friends.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Friendship requires risk. Friendship requires
vulnerability.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As strange as this may
sound, the Church, as long as it understands itself as an institution that
offers service, will never truly be the Church.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When we see ourselves as offering something, as being the ones who
control what we have to offer, and insisting that others accept what we offer
on our terms, we are not being the Church Jesus called us to be.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is not what he offered us, and it is not
what we should offer others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Jesus offered us, offers us, friendship.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He lays down his life for his friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He kneels before his disciples not as master
or servant, but as friend.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jesus
reimagines what servant-hood means and demonstrates a servant-hood shorn of
power-imbalances, and demonstrates servant-friendship.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why is it difficult for Peter to have his
feet washed?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Why is it difficult for us
to have our feet washed?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is because
we must assume a level of uncomfortable intimacy with another person, someone
with whom there is a power imbalance. It involves extraordinary risk. Peter
balks at it. We balk at it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>My first
reaction would be to balk at it if my bishop were to ask to wash my feet, as
many do when they consider allowing their priest to wash their feet.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And yet, we may be keen to offer that service
to others, but how can we do that if we first have not felt the vulnerability that
they feel?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Can we offer compassionate
loving service, can we wash the feet of another, if we have not first sat in
that chair and allowed our feet to be washed?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>When it comes our turn to wash the feet of another we must understand
how vulnerable that person is, what an extraordinary risk they are taking, what
a privilege we have in serving them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Can
we understand this unless we have felt that same vulnerability or taken that
same risk?<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
True servant-hood, the kind of servant-hood we encounter in
Jesus, is not one person acting upon another. In fact, this is the very
antithesis of the servant-hood modeled by Jesus. True Christian servant-hood is
a ministry of friendship. It is reciprocal. It involves mutual giving and
receiving. It involves mutual vulnerability and mutual risk. It involves mutual
joy. This is why Jesus says I no longer call you servants but friends.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>As Jesus loved us so we love him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And as we have loved him and been loved by
him, so too shall we be drawn into a deeper mutual love of each other in
Christian friendship.<o:p></o:p></div>
Daniel Graveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14152198947419055272noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7055186560940117954.post-86356257706240323662013-03-24T08:35:00.002-04:002013-03-24T08:35:46.742-04:00The Choice of the Good Thief - A Homily for Palm Sunday, Year C, 2013
<strong>A Homily for Palm Sunday, Year C, 2013<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
Sunday, March 24<sup>th</sup>, 2013<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
Trinity Anglican Church, Bradford,<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
The Rev. Daniel F. Graves<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
Text: Luke: 22:14-23:56</strong><br />
<em>
</em><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<em>“Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in paradise.”<o:p></o:p></em></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
The gospel of Christ confronts us with choices.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Will we follow him?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Will we take up his cross?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Will we stay with him even to the last?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Will we say “yes” to him, even when all
others are failing and falling away?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>These are the choices we make in our journey of faith, on our journey to
holiness, on our quest for communion with God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But saying “yes” is not such an easy thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Saying “yes” has a cost. Saying “yes” has a
risk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There are many things we say “yes”
to in life without a second thought.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>They are choices that we make that have no real import on us, except
perhaps a slight convenience or inconvenience depending on the situation, but
these are not difficult or life-changing choices.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The costly choices are the ones that ask us
to examine ourselves, to be honest with ourselves, and stir up in us the
longing, perhaps with fear and trembling, to change or be changed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is the nature of the choice that
confronts us in the gospel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is the
choice we encounter in the cross.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
We live in a world of denial and illusion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps this is so because we are, at some
deep level, afraid to face what reality brings.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We are afraid of what people think of us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are afraid of what might happen to us if
we make certain choice, of what we might lose, of what we might suffer. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so we retreat into denial and
illusion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We create happy, illusory
edifices that surround our lives, and pretend that we are immortal, that we
cannot be hurt or wounded by others or even by our own failures. “Always look
on the bright side of life” says one popular song even when the pain reveals
there is no bright side, but only sadness, regret, and loss.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Sometimes we feign saying “yes” when our actions really say “no.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We give lip service to one choice, while our
actions tellingly speak of another.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Beneath it all is fear; the fear of death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The fear of losing everything is at the heart
of all lies, illusion, and denial.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Until
we stare that fear in face and own it, until truth itself confronts us, we
shall forever live in a world of happy illusion and delusory denial.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
But what if, confronted by Jesus, something were to cut us
to the core, and in a moment we realize that losing all is our ultimate fate in
spite of our best efforts to convince ourselves otherwise?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What if, confronted by Jesus, our fears were
to be momentarily unmasked and revealed and we had to face them?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What if, confronted by Jesus, his witness and
testimony to the truth, we were to realize that we have no power in ourselves
to help ourselves?<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Our Lord hung upon the cross, between two thieves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Even in the face of his own impending doom,
one of the thieves made a choice and clung tenaciously to his illusion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the moment of his certain and unavoidable
death, he hung next to the one who could offer him eternal life and mocked
him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the moment when he could have
been saved, his own pride prevented him from recognizing his saviour and so he
cast his soul away, for<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>the power of sin
is so strong that it tempts us that it is better to live a short life in
illusion than an eternity in bliss.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Our Lord hung upon the cross, between two thieves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In the face of his own impending doom, the
other thief made a choice, his own arms stretched wide in vulnerability and
pain, and let Jesus into his heart. That thief owned the choices of his life.
He owned his sin. He owned his crimes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He knew that he deserved to die.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In opening his heart to the reality of his own life, his heart was
opened to the presence of the Christ who hung next to him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And the sinless Christ, seeing his pain,
seeing his penitent heart, hearing the words of compassion that he uttered, too
this man’s sin upon his shoulders, and promised him paradise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
The story of the good thief makes explicit the work of the
cross: forgiveness to the penitent sinner.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>To follow Jesus is to allow him to cut through the morass of the lies we
tell ourselves to keep ourselves safe from the pain we fear so much; the pains
of this life, and our fear of death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The
choice to follow Jesus is the choice to open ourselves to experiencing and
witnessing our doubt, our fear, our pain, and our sinfulness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“What need have the healthy for a physician?”
Jesus asks earlier in the gospel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When
we care to be honest, when we have the courage to be authentic, we realize that
we all need the great physician.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And
yet, where does that courage come from?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>How can we find the courage to face what is so frightening that we build
castles in the air to hide from it?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
It is the stark reality of the cross, of the one man who
needed no physician, of the one man who sinless, made the choice to succumb to
its tortures that we might have true life in abundance.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In Jesus Christ, the living God made a choice
for humanity. In Jesus Christ, God became human that we might become
divine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Remember how we are told in
Scripture that we are created in image and likeness of God?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet, sin obscures that image.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are apt to holiness and godliness, but are
we able?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That is why every “yes,” every “I
will,” is qualified by the phrase, “with God’s help.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For you see it is only through Christ and him
crucified that we can have any hope of re-attaining the image and likeness of
God in which we were created.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Under our
own power, death is too frightening, our mistakes are too frightening, our sins
are too debilitating.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And our natural
response, our primal predilection for self-perseveration is to begin to peddle
lies to ourselves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I can do this if I
only try hard enough,” or “it must be everyone else; I’m okay,” or the
favourite phrase of the political consultant “I make the truth.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But our castles will come falling down for
our delusions and our lies are built on sand.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
We hear of two Simons, one named the rock.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Peter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But where was the bedrock of his faith and commitment when confronted
with the reality of a crucified messiah?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What were his words when asked about the one he swore he would never
leave?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“I do not know the man.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fear gripped Peter.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fear made him lie.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fear put his very life and soul at risk.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And were it not for the mercy of God, were it
not for the merciful arms of Jesus stretched wide on the cross, Peter may have
gone down in history numbered amongst the bad thief, or even Judas who betrayed
his master.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Another Simon, this one a Cyreneian, had the cross place
upon his shoulders when Jesus could no longer carry it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This Simon chose not to run.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This Simon chose to see in the sinless man
his salvation and took up his cross to follow in his way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This Simon did not turn back from the pain,
or the shame, or even an uncertain fate. This Simon did not lie nor deny the
Christ.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Like the good thief, he faced
the reality of the moment, and made a choice to minister to Jesus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Surely he too is with him in paradise.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
When we reject Jesus, we seek to silence the voice our pain,
the voice of our fear, and the voice of our sinful mistakes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jesus might have let the cup pass from him,
but he was the man of perfect authenticity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He was the man, the one man, the God-man, who was both apt and able to
stare death in the face and openly embrace it.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And in doing so, he conquered all fear, conquered sin, and yes, even
conquered death, not only for himself, but for all who will come to him with a
fearful but honest “yes” in their hearts and on their lips.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For them, for us, Jesus offer truth and
healing and even in the midst of all that pains us, a place in paradise.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
Daniel Graveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14152198947419055272noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7055186560940117954.post-23576172622594611962013-02-24T08:39:00.001-05:002013-02-24T10:06:08.088-05:00Jerusalem, Jerusalem... A Homily for Lent II, Year C, 2013<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Homily for Lent II –
Year C, 2013<o:p></o:p></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Sunday, February 24<sup>th</sup>,
2013<o:p></o:p></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Trinity Anglican
Church, Bradford, ON<o:p></o:p></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">The Rev. Daniel F.
Graves<o:p></o:p></b><br />
<b style="mso-bidi-font-weight: normal;">Text: Luke 13:31-35<o:p></o:p></b><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">“Jerusalem, Jerusalem,
the city that kills the prophets and stones those who are sent to it! How often
have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her brood
under her wings, and you were not willing!”<o:p></o:p></i></div>
-Luke 13:34<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
If Lent is a time to consider how we might draw closer to
God, then we would do well to consider the ways in which we pull away from him,
or alas, even reject him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Indeed, the
very language I use to refer to God may offer us a hint as to one of those
ways.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You will have noticed that I
referred to God as “him.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do I take this
to be a cardinal sin?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>No, I do not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am not amongst those who would have us dump
all masculine imagery about God, wholesale.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>I think we ought to retain many of those masculine images of God, most
especially, the healthy ones.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What needs
deep consideration are the unhealthy masculine metaphors and faces we have
applied to God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And further, for those
of us who are men to have healthy understanding of our own masculinity, we must
learn to sift and discern the healthy masculine images that flow from God to
our humanity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But if this is true, it is
also true that we must attend to an equally pressing, and indeed possibly more
urgent problem, and that is the suppression of the feminine face of God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is into this spring of hope that we plunge
today, for in thirteenth chapter of St. Luke’s Gospel we confront one of those
rare moments in Scripture when the feminine divine seeks to enfold us and we,
characteristically, reject it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<em>“Jerusalem, Jerusalem, the city that kills the prophets and
stones those who are sent to it!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How
often have I desired to gather your children together as a hen gathers her
brood under her wings, but you were not willing!”<o:p></o:p></em></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
This is, at first glance, a surprising Jesus.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is Jesus as mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is Jesus weeping over Jerusalem; weeping
over her children.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is Jesus as
mother who will be shunned for offering her undying love. This is Jesus as the mother
who will be punished and destroyed for loving her children and seeking their
well-being.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is Jesus the mother who
calls to that other mother, Jerusalem, and admonishes her for abandoning her
identity as “mother of us all” by perversely turning against, and destroying
her own children.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
None of this should surprise us though, for is Jesus not the
one who challenges violent and patriarchal visions of power by the pouring
forth of love in selfless abandon? <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This
is not singularly a feminine virtue, rather it is our human calling! <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Gracious self-offering; selfless abandon!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jesus the perfect human being offering
perfect love for the health, well-being, and very salvation of her
children!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
It has been said that to ascribe to God human attributes is
wrong, for God is above human attributes, and God is above gender.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But I question this notion.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course, we put a human face on God because
the ineffability of God is impossible for us to grasp.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We give God arms, we give God legs. He counts
the stars with his fingers.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He breathes
life into us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We hear his footsteps in the
garden.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We say these things about God,
and yet, has not God taken human legs and hands in Jesus?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The point is this: we project our humanity
onto God because our humanity flows from God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Created in the image and likeness of God, male and female (!), our
humanity flows from his divinity.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so
when God chooses to come to us, to reach out to us in deep love, God shows us a
human face.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That face is the Christ.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The error we have made is to look only at
Jesus the man to the exclusion of Jesus the human.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What Jesus accomplishes is that he makes us
partners in the healing work of the gospel and in the persistent proclaiming of
hope, regardless of gender, and indeed, in the fullness of our genders – equal,
different, and partners. Who is it that catches that vision first?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, some fishermen begin to follow him, but
it seems at times like dim senses preclude them from understanding, and their
quest for personal glory clouds their vision.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>In St. Luke’s gospel, who is it that immediately catches the
vision?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Consider Mary, the mother of
Jesus, who in her youthful fright says “yes” to God’s plan of hope and
healing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Consider Simon’s mother-in-law,
whose name is tragically lost to us, who upon being healed rises up to offer
herself in Christian service.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Consider the
nameless sinful woman who kisses the feet of Jesus in deep love and prophetic
understanding, anointing him ointment and with her tears.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And Mary Magdalene and Joanna who opened
both their purses and their hearts to make his ministry of love possible! And
who stands at the foot of the cross when all others have fled?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who journeys to the tomb?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These are the apostles of love, who by God’s
grace, and in spite of the best efforts of violent voices, still leave their
traces in our sacred texts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These are the
voices -- these are the prophets -- that we seek to stone and kill for
fear that they will challenge us beyond what we can bear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But what do they want? What do they
seek?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing less than the very longing
of Jesus, the very longing of God, “how I have longed to gather you under my
wings, as a mother hen gathers her brood, but you were not willing.”<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Perhaps the supreme and most grotesque irony is the robbing
of Jerusalem of her feminine nature.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The Old Testament prophets understood Jerusalem as the holy place in
which all races, tribes, and nations would be gathered to know the goodness and
salvation of God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To them she was “the
mother of us all.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What might Jerusalem
look like today if we really believed that?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Would the children of Abraham and Sarah so wilfully seek to destroy each
other within her very walls?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
But Jesus comes to redeem all of that.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“How I have longed to gather you as a mother
hen gathers her brood.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jesus reminds
Jerusalem that she is a mother, not a warrior or vengeful judge that stones her
own children!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“How you would not let me
gather you under my wings!” Jesus cries in anguish. And so he presses forward
to that Holy City to restore, rebuild, and verily, re-create!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>His entry will be one in humility, not
military might; and his recreating act will be offered in sacrificial love that
consummates the new birth. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
We are challenged to the core of our being by these words of
Jesus, by his lament for Jerusalem.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This
is a Jesus that sets before us God as mother.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This is a Jesus who offers us the pain of a mother in despair. However,
we encounter also the resilience and persistence of the feminine divine that
presses forward with strength and compassion in equal measure that her children
may not be lost to her. If Luke can dare to imagine God in this way, can we
dare to imagine God our mother who seeks to gather us under her wings?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Can we dare to allow that image, and oh so
many more to be liberated from the prisons in which we have kept them suppressed,
deep in some dark chamber within us?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Can
we dare to draw close to God our mother?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Can we dare to draw close to the feminine face of God? Or shall we be
like Jerusalem, turning her back on who she is, stoning her own children?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Shall we not only seek to suppress the
fullness of humanity but the fullness of divinity? There are wings waiting –
longing ! – to enfold us. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
Daniel Graveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14152198947419055272noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7055186560940117954.post-83137082796219637222013-02-13T09:23:00.000-05:002013-02-13T09:23:01.718-05:00Grace without Obstacles - A Homily for Ash Wednesday, 2013
<strong>Homily for Ash Wednesday, 2013<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
Wednesday, February 13<sup>th</sup>, 2013<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
Trinity Anglican Church, Bradford, ON<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
The Rev. Daniel F. Graves<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
Text: 2 Corinthians 5:20b-6:10</strong><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<em>“We are putting no obstacle in anyone’s way.”<o:p></o:p></em></div>
-2 Cor. 6:3<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
As we embark on our Lenten journey, our thoughts will
inevitably turn to what we shall give up, or what discipline shall we take
on.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We will begin with good intentions,
but as with our failed New Year’s resolutions, we shall find ourselves
faltering, and perhaps even abandoning our disciplines before the forty days
are over.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps the problem is that we
give undo attention to the discipline, itself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Perhaps the problem is that we allow the discipline to be the focus of
Lent, rather than being the means upon which we focus on Christ.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lent is about one thing, and one thing alone,
turning again to Christ.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing should
stand in the way of this one goal.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
We ought never to lose sight of this goal during our Lenten
journey, and indeed, we ought never to lose sight of this goal during the whole
of our Christian life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet, we are
mortals formed of the earth. We are but dust.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Our best intentions are fleeting and we lose sight of our purpose oh so
frequently.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are mere mortals with all
the selfishness that comes from being mortals.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We are inclined to forget that we are mere creatures.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We place ourselves at the centre of the
universe and we fail to account for the destructive nature of our actions and
our selfishness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Most of all, we are
inclined to forget about the God who created us.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
</div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Lent is a time to turn again to God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet, having become so selfishly inclined,
having turned away again from our Lord, how can we even know we need to seek
him?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God seems so distant at times.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Perhaps, though, God only seems distant because
we push him to the fringes of our life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>But God is not distant.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God,
recognizing the gaping chasm between creator and created, sought to bridge that
chasm by becoming man. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God, in Christ
Jesus, came to us that the chasm that separated us from God might simply
disappear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Nothing stands in the way
from turning to God, when God has turned to us, in Christ Jesus.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
When St. Paul wrote to the Corinthians, he claimed to be an ambassador
for Christ.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He entreated the Corinthians
to be reconciled to God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Indeed, they
had already received God’s grace in Christ, they had already been reconciled,
but frail creatures that they were they had a proclivity to turn away from
God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And so too do we.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Paul entreated them once again to turn to
Christ.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That call to turn again is as
necessary for us to hear today as it was for the ancient Corinthians on that
long-ago day. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Let us not risk receiving
the grace of God in vain, but rather remember that God has listened to our
prayers in the past and he has helped us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>He has brought us salvation in Christ.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
If that truth seems distant; if those promises seem old and
stale; if the fire in our hearts has waned to a mere flicker, then now is the
time to turn again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now is the time in
which the flames will once again be fanned.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Now is the day of salvation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If
we have turned away, it is time to turn back again to Christ. He will not leave
us or forsake us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He will receive us
again and again.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
As St. Paul wrote, we are putting no obstacle in in anyone’s
way.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And neither is God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God does not require sacrifice or burnt
offerings; he does not require Lenten disciplines or fasting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God loves a broken and contrite heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is the thing he will not despise.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The very thing we are afraid of – brokenness –
this is what God embraces.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The thing
that would appear to be the obstacle for us, is means through which God reaches
out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where God sees a chasm he builds a
bridge.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That bridge is Christ. Where God
finds a gaping wound he applies a salve.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>That salve is Christ.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where God
sees the fire waning to a flicker he fans the flames.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That breath is Christ.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is precisely in our weakness, not in our
strength, that Jesus comes to us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Indeed, our feigned strength may just be an obstacle for us before God.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Thus, in vulnerability and longing, with fear and trembling,
with the risk of disappointment, we turn again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>And once again we meet Christ.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
turn to Christ, not to disciplines.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If
we take up such disciplines during Lent it will not be because they will bring
us closer to God, there is only one thing that brings us closer to God, and
that is Jesus. If we take up Lenten disciplines once again it will be out of
our deep devotion to the one who is there for us without obstacle, without
condition, with pure grace.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If take up
Lenten disciplines again, it will be because we wish to clear away the rubbish
of our lives to make a place for the one who has so graciously reached out to
us and made a place for us in his heart.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
No matter where we find ourselves as this Lenten journey
begins, I entreat you, as St. Paul entreated the Corinthians, on behalf of
Christ, be reconciled to God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Turn
again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You shall find him, without obstacle,
and with perfect grace, welcoming you into his heart.<o:p></o:p></div>
Daniel Graveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14152198947419055272noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7055186560940117954.post-35363793949510298132013-02-03T08:41:00.001-05:002013-02-03T08:41:39.949-05:00Why we Sometimes Want to Throw God off a Cliff - A Homily for Proper 4, Year C, 2013
<strong>Homily for Proper 4, Year C, 2013<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
Sunday, Feb 2<sup>nd</sup>, 2013<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
Trinity Anglican Church, Bradford<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
The Rev. Daniel F. Graves<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
Text:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Luke 4:21-30<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Most of us believe we know what is best for us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>After all, who knows my needs better than
me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Who knows your needs better than
you?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seems to me that we have
elevated this understanding of need-fulfilment to doctrine.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Students tell teachers what they need,
patients tell doctors what they need, children tell parents what they need –
education, health care, and parenting all revolve around the stated (or
unstated) needs of the individual.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now,
self-awareness is not a bad thing, indeed, it is a very good thing.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In particular, when we run up against large
institutions and structures that inevitably forget about the needs of
individuals, self-advocacy is very, very important. However, there is a
difference between self-awareness, and selfish-centredness.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Self-awareness asks a multiplicity of
questions, such as: what do I need to grow, to become a better, healthier, more
educated person? Self-awareness considers the complicated web of relationships
of which we are all a part and how we can function not only as individuals but
as individuals in relationship with each other. Self-awareness asks the
question “who am I in the world.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Conversely, self-centredness asks one simple question, “what can the
world do for me?” and pursues one single-minded goal: finding out how to make
this happen.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are at our best when we
are self-aware beings seeking the common good of other self-aware beings,
living in a self-aware society. Mutual self-awareness builds up the common
good; selfish-centredness tears it down and destroys it.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
When Jesus preached in his home-town, and when it became
clear that that the messianic mantle had fallen upon him, people had certain
expectations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Messiahship had kingly
connotations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The messiah was a
descendent of David, and it was prophesied that he would rule over Israel.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Now, we know from hindsight that Jesus was a
very different kind of messiah than what had been expected.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>However, in those days, they expected a king
who would rescue the people and smite their enemies.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is why they expected his so-called
“triumphal entry” into Jerusalem to be somewhat more triumphal than how it
actually turned out.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And this is why
even his disciples argued amongst themselves who was the greatest, and who
would sit at his right hand in his kingdom. If any one of us had a person of
great power or influence in our family or amongst our friends, it would only be
natural to sidle up every now and again, ask for a favour, seek a point of
privilege, maybe even a lucrative appointment or placement of some sort. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
When Jesus preached in his home-town, and it became clear
that the messianic mantle had fallen upon him, people had great
expectations.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They had heard that he was
gaining a following throughout the Galilee, that he was getting famous, that he
was working great wonders! “Was this not Joseph’s son?” they murmured after
they heard him preach for the first time?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Others might have been saying, “Just think, I knew him when…!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>One might think that Jesus would have ridden
on his new-found popularity at home; after all, they were amazed at his
preaching.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>You might have thought that
he would have used the home-town advantage a little more constructively.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet, instead, Jesus picked a fight with
them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He chastised them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He put words in their mouths:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Doubtless you will say ‘Doctor cure
yourself!’” and “’Do here in your hometown the miracles we heard you did in
Capernaum!’”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Well, they weren’t
actually saying those things, at least not at that moment. <span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jesus was cutting them off at the pass.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He knew the time would come when the requests
for favours would start rolling in, when he would have to disappoint them, when
he couldn’t be the sort of messiah they thought they were getting.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In an attempt to explain why they would be
disappointed, he told them a couple of stories, one about Elijah who offered
food during a famine to the widow of Zarephath and her son, and one about
Elisha who cleansed but one leper amongst many, Naaman. These two stories made
them so angry that they rode Jesus out of town and attempted to throw him off a
cliff! What was the point of these two stories?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What was it about those stories that made the people closest to Jesus so
angry at him?<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p>Jesus’ purpose in re-telling these well-known tales was
two-fold.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>First, not everybody gets what
they want. Some people will be disappointed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>These two old-time prophets reached out to particular individuals who
had particular needs, but the needs of others seem to have been ignored.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Secondly, you may not always like who gets
the help, especially when it is not you!<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Both the widow and Naaman were gentiles. These stories were stories of
God reaching out to those considered to be on the outside, those not considered
members of the family, those who may not seem to be deserving of God’s grace.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p>So what is Jesus trying to say to his family and friends in
his home-town?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Simply this, you may be
impressed with me now because you think you know what I am about and you are
imagining all that I can do for you. You are thinking, “Do for us what you are
doing for them!” But what if that is not what I am here for?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What if it’s not all about you? What happens
when I have to disappoint you?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What
happens when you realize that you are not the only ones God is reaching out
to?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
The expectations that the people in Nazareth had for Jesus
were narrow, self-centred and to the exclusion of others.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God’s vision is broad, community-focused and
inclusive.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the people heard the
truth, they couldn’t take it and they wanted to throw Jesus off a cliff.</div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
We all have needs.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
are all in need of love, of forgiveness and healing. But that’s the point – <o:p></o:p></div>
ALL of us need God, not just some of us, not just me, not
just you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>“Come unto me ALL who are
weary and carrying heavy burdens,” Jesus says.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>St. John writes that Jesus the righteous is the propitiation for our
sins: and not for ours only, but for the sins of the WHOLE world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes, my needs are important, and God cares
about me, but if I am created in the image of God, and if through his grace I
am to be conformed to his likeness, then my focus will shift away from me, the
beloved of God, to recognize and serve you, the beloved of God. When I become
self-aware that my identity is Christ, not in me alone, then I find my true
self in the service of him, and those he loves.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Selfishness gives way to self-awareness, selfishness gives way to
generosity, selfishness gives way to perfect love.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And after all, love is patient and kind, not
envious or boastful or arrogant or rude.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It does not insist on its way.<o:p></o:p><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
We think we know what we need, and we may have some sense of
it, but I am grateful that at times, my parents had a greater sense of what I
needed than I did.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am grateful that my
teachers were trained to not only meet my educational needs (as I might have narrowly
envisioned those needs) but to shape me for citizenship and community.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>I am grateful that when I don’t know what’s
wrong with me that my doctor has the training to know what might help, and the
wisdom to offer proper treatment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We
have a great physician who knows our needs even before we do and even before we
ask.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What is more, he knows our true
needs, and yes, he can offer challenging words, words that may even make us
wish to throw him from a cliff.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yet, if
we accept his wisdom, if we embrace his challenging love, if we let him work
away on the dark places of our souls, we shall find that we are transformed and
healed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We shall find that what we
thought we needed was not what we needed at all.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We shall find ourselves opened to new
possibilities, but even more wonderfully, we shall see him working that same
grace not only in ourselves but in our community and the world of which we are
part.<o:p></o:p></div>
Daniel Graveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14152198947419055272noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7055186560940117954.post-87446632436770233322013-01-13T08:35:00.001-05:002013-01-13T08:35:38.261-05:00Baptism: A Journey of Trust - Homily for the Feast of the Baptism of the Lord, Year C, 2013<strong>Homily for the Feast of the Baptism of the Lord, Year C, 2013</strong><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<strong>Sunday, January 13<sup>th</sup>, 2013<o:p></o:p></strong></div>
<strong>
Trinity Anglican Church, Bradford<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
The Rev. Daniel F. Graves<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
Text: Luke 3:15-17, 21-22<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Life is filled with choices.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>There are the simple choices that we make, the ones of little or no consequence;
and there are the profound, life-changing choices.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The choice we make in baptism is of the
latter sort.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is a choice that changes
us forever.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is a choice that marks
out the contours by which we shall live, and the choice that shapes way we
shall navigate those contours.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is
both an acknowledgement and a commitment.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It is an acknowledgement that we are in need of God; and it is a commitment
to follow that same God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And further,
and perhaps most significantly, it is an act of trust.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When we come to baptism we trust that the God
who created us will forever be both our Father and friend; we trust that even
though we turn away from that God again and again, that same God will never
abandon us and never fail to welcome us home should we turn again and seek him
out; we trust that he is the one who saves us from ourselves, and from our
sins; and we trust that he is the one who makes all things new and gives us new
life.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
The question has often been asked, why did Jesus need to be
baptized?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If he was born without sin,
and if, as the Church teaches, he was God incarnate?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And if John was preaching repentance and
baptizing for the forgiveness of sins, why did Jesus need to be baptized? Of
what purpose was his baptism?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It is an
interesting and perplexing question, and much scholarly energy has been
expended over this problem.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>It seems to
me, though, that the answer is especially clear, Jesus made a choice, and as
such, God made a choice.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p>In Jesus, God chose to enter into our story to redeem and
save us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>That was a choice.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our God is not a god who simply made the
world and disappeared; rather, in deep love for his creation, God become
vulnerable – vulnerable as a babe, vulnerable as a man, vulnerable unto
death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In Jesus, God took a chance on
us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God limited himself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>God became a human being, with all human
limitations, including pain and death.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jesus
of Nazareth had doubts. Jesus of Nazareth knew fear.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jesus of Nazareth knew temptation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>There were many moments when Jesus could have
failed in his mission -- as when the devil tempted him in the wilderness, or
when he prayed that the cup might pass from him -- but he resolved to persevere
for our sake.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Of course Jesus did not
need to be baptized, for he knew no sin, but that is not to say he was not
tempted toward it, even as we are tempted.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Thus, to be baptized was, for him, and act of trust. Part of
the vulnerability of God in the Incarnation is his giving up of his
omniscience. What a remarkable thing, that when God became man, he limited
himself.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He, as human being like you and
me, needed to trust.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In baptism Jesus
was saying that he trusted his father’s plan. To be baptized was for him to
submit to the ministry of John, as he submitted to the ministry of Mary and
Joseph of Nazareth, and as he would submit even unto death under Pilate.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>To be baptized was to say yes to God’s plan
not only for himself, but for all of us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It was to be vulnerable, to take a risk, to trust.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
And so we, who have not the benefit of knowing no sin; we
who are not God incarnate; we who are but frail creatures, are asked to make a
decision.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We are asked to be vulnerable.
We are asked to trust.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Will you turn
away from the things that draw you from the love of God?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And will you turn to Jesus who is your
saviour?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Will you trust him?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>We you obey him?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>These are the questions asked at baptism.
They are difficult questions because they mean that not only are we placing our
trust in something, or someone, greater than ourselves, we are saying that we
cannot do it without him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p>Apart from Holy Scripture and the sacraments that Jesus has
left us, we cannot see him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And yet, in
those Scriptures, and in these sacraments we can meet him, we can know him, we can
believe in him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Through these Scriptures
and these sacraments we can have an experience of him – not simply as a wise
teacher who is worthy of following, but as our Saviour who is not only
re-making us, reshaping us, and restoring us, but re-making, reshaping and
restoring the whole world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p>And when we take that risk of vulnerability; when we take
that risk of trust; when we take that risk of faith; we are granted a special
role in that sacred drama of the new kingdom.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>We become players on the stage of divine history. Where once there was
no meaning, now we find meaning.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Where
once hopelessness shaped our future, now our lives and destinies are infused
with hope. Where once fear held us back, now trust propels us forward.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p>Most beautifully, though, even though we shall make
mistakes, those mistakes will not become the story of our lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Returning, forgiving, renewing – this is our
story.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The pattern of the one who in
vulnerability trusted his Father in heaven, becomes our pattern, and his
victory over the grave becomes our victory as well.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
When Jesus took the risk of baptism, even though he knew no
sin, God blessed him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The Holy Spirit
descended like a dove and proclaimed “with you I am well pleased.”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And today, in the baptism we share; in the
trust we share with Jesus, the trust we place in Jesus; in risk of faith we
take; the Holy Spirit proclaims to us, the words of our Father, “with you I am
well pleased.”<o:p></o:p></div>
Daniel Graveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14152198947419055272noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7055186560940117954.post-49505641599614753392012-12-25T10:30:00.000-05:002012-12-25T10:30:01.246-05:00The Final Word - A Homily for Christmas Day, 2012
<strong>Homily for Christmas Day, 2012<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
Tuesday, December 25<sup>th</sup>, 2012<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
Trinity Anglican Church, Bradford, ON<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>
The Rev. Daniel F. Graves<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>Text: John 1:1-14<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Although the powers of darkness would seek to overcome and
destroy us, they can never be the final word for us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
When we cast our minds back over the course of our lives, I
think many of us will realize that there are things we have done, and left
undone, for which we are not proud.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>All
too often, these mistakes become for us the narratives that shape our
lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Our mistakes and our sins have
the potential to become the word of our lives, but the message of today is that
even our grossest deeds, our most careless errors, and even our most malicious
mistakes need not be the final word for us.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Christmas can be a difficult time for many because the pain
of a recent – or even not-so-recent – loss may feel overwhelming.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When so many are making merry, the gap left
by a loved one who is no longer with us, and the sorrow we feel, may feel like
the word that is written upon our lives, but it need not be the final word for
us.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
In the midst of the great brokenness of this world, amidst
senseless violence like the recent shooting in Connecticut, amidst accidents
and unforeseen losses, imagining that the world is so irretrievably lost that
only a 2012 Armageddon that will wipe things out may seem like the only word
for a helplessly hurting world, but it need not be the final word for us.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and
the Word was God!<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
The only word that truly matters to us, the only word that
really has a hold on our lives, the only word that is of any true substance is
Jesus Christ, the Word of God, who was in the beginning with God and through
whom all things were created.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>This is the
only word that matters because all things came into being through him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Not one thing that was created came into
being without him. All other words that seek to have a claim on us ultimately
have not power or claim over us, for they are not the source of either our
being, or our Salvation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They are not
the light of life.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The very Word that gives
us life and light is the Word that is written upon our hearts and upon our very
being, and should any other word seek to erase or deface that word, that word
shall not stand.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
We can fail to see the Word because the darkness is often so
overwhelming that our vision is obscured, and that is why the Word became flesh.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When the world seemed too dark, when other
words seemed to echo in our ears and garble our thoughts, the Word became
flesh. <o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
The Word becomes flesh and casts away the other words that
seek to imprint themselves on our lives.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The light shines in the darkness, and although the darkness seeks to
overcome the light it cannot.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The light
casts out the darkness.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Darkness still covers the earth but we have a light that
forces it back.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Other words still seek
to write themselves into our story, but we have a Word that is our story, and
no other words shall take his place.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Jesus Christ, the Word made flesh, is God’s final word for
us.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Jesus Christ is the light of the world,
and although at times the darkness seems powerful, and those other words seem
multitudinous, Jesus is written on our hearts and indeed, he is the light which
shines forth from our new life in him.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>By his grace, by water and the Spirit, we are a new creation and so we
need not fear any other word or be threatened by the darkness. If God is for
us, who can be against us?<o:p></o:p></div>
Daniel Graveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14152198947419055272noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7055186560940117954.post-92153975129896471662012-12-24T19:00:00.000-05:002012-12-24T19:00:01.253-05:00Let us go, then, unto Bethlehem - A homily for Christmas Eve 2012<strong>Homily for Christmas Eve, 2012<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>Monday, December 24<sup>th</sup>, 2012</strong><br />
<strong>Trinity Anglican Church, Bradford, ON<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>The Rev. Daniel F. Graves<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<strong>Text: Luke 2:1-20<o:p></o:p></strong><br />
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<em>Fear not! I bring you good news of great joy for all people!<o:p></o:p></em></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Into a world governed by fear, the message came.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Into the lives of the poor and the oppressed,
the message came.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Into the hearts of
those who hoped but dared not believe, the message came.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The message, “fear not!” sounded resolutely
in the face of those who governed by fear, it lifted the dark veil of
oppression, and gave birth to faith in the hearts of those who doubted. <o:p></o:p></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
But what had changed?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>What was it that had cast away the fear that gripped the people of that long-ago
age?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The angel proclaimed, “I bring you
good news of great joy!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But what was
that joy?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>The good news was news of
their salvation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Hard as it might have
been to believe, had as it might have been to accept, God had come to save his
people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Did Herod the King still reign
over them?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Was the violently imposed
Roman peace still a reality for them?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Were those shepherds abiding in their fields still poor shepherds?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Yes.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>On one level, nothing seemed different, and yet, everything had changed,
for fear no longer gripped their hearts.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Fear no longer gripped them because they knew that the very things they
feared were no longer the things that held power over them.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They knew that their salvation was something
so much more precious and eternal than merely their deliverance from unjust
rulers or wealthy exploiters.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They knew –
and they knew it deep in that place where truth cannot be shaken – that they
belonged to God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They knew that somehow,
all the walls that they had built separating themselves from God were being
broken down.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>How could this be?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were not sure.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>But at the very moment angels proclaimed the
words “Fear not!” they knew their world had changed.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They were saved.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Their salvation was not a spiriting out of this world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their salvation was not a rejection of this
world.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Their salvation was not a
destruction of this world. Rather, it was a reclaiming of this world for
God.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those shepherds of old did not know
it at the time; what they did know was that God always gave a sign.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>And what would that sign be?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They would find a babe, wrapped in swaddling
clothes and lying in a manger.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Those who
were gripped with fear were gripped with fear no longer.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>They made haste, and went to seek the sign,
to see this great thing that God had done:<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>a simple child lying in a manger. What manner of greatness was
this?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>What manner of miracle did they
witness?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>In what way could the birth of
a child into the poverty of a stable be a sign?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>This, we cannot explain, except to say that they knew, once again, in
that deep place of knowing where truth cannot be shaken, that they witnessed
before them in that tiny child, cradled in a trough, their very salvation.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>For God so loved the world; and they knew it
to be true.<o:p></o:p></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
And thus in the midst of evil powers that might seek to
destroy them, they could in turn say “fear not!”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>When Caesars and Herods sought to oppress
them, they could say “fear not!” And when their own sinfulness and their own brokenness
might seem to be too heavy to bear, they could say to themselves and too each
other “fear not!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
This story is an old one.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>It is one we know so well, but do we know it and believe it in that deep
place of knowing where truth cannot be shaken?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>Do we believe the words of the angels, “Fear not?”<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do we believe the sign that was given to the shepherds,
a babe wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger is a sign still given
to you and to me?<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Do we believe that in
deep humility, poverty and helplessness, God has saved us? <o:p></o:p></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Let us go then, once again even unto Bethlehem and see this
thing that the Lord has done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span><o:p></o:p></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
In a world in which broken men and women take up arms and
seek to destroy the most weak and vulnerable, and in a world in which others
cry out that the only solution to violence is arms and more violence, the
angels host cries out “Fear not!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
In a world seems to spin apart with absurdity upon absurdity
as politicians and rulers create and shape false truth at their whims, and in
which the gullible believe every falsehood spun before them, the angel host
cries out, “Fear not!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
In a world in which economic woes and fiscal cliffs have
become the highest concern of our shared life, the angel host cries out, “Fear
not!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Into our lives when families break apart, when loved ones
die tragically, when we make terrible, terrible mistakes that we deeply regret,
the angel host cries out, “Fear not!”<o:p></o:p></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
I tell you now what the angels proclaimed to the shepherds
then: fear not!<o:p></o:p></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
I tell you now what the shepherds heard then: I bring you
good news of great joy which shall be for all people.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Unto you is born this day, a Saviour which is
the Christ the Lord.<o:p></o:p></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
I set before you now what was set before them then: You will
find a babe wrapped in swaddling clothes and lying in a manger.<o:p></o:p></div>
<o:p></o:p><br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
Let us go then, once again – or perhaps for the first time –
even unto Bethlehem and see this thing that the Lord has done.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you are afraid, fear not.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>If you have pondered the child from a
distance and yet have never drawn close, draw close now. And if you have hoped,
yet never dared to believe, believe it now.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;">
</span>The holy child is born this day for me and for you.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>He has come to us that we might never be far
from him again and nothing will ever separate us from him ever again.<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Fear not, for unto you is born this day a
Saviour, which is Christ the Lord.<o:p></o:p></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<o:p> </o:p></div>
Daniel Graveshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/14152198947419055272noreply@blogger.com0