By Rev. Heather J. Blais, Rector “Here I am, for you called me.”* In today’s reading from the Hebrew scriptures, we witness the calling of Samuel. The call story is a beautiful and moving account of vocational discernment. First, though, a bit of background.** Samuel’s father Elkanah (El-KAY-naa) had two wives: Peninnah (Pen-in-nah) and Hannah. While Peninnah bore him numerous children, Hannah struggled with infertility. Each year Elkanah would bring his family to Shiloh, so he might go to the temple and offer a sacrifice. Afterwards, he would give portions of the sacrifice to Peninnah and her children, and then he would offer a double portion to Hannah. This generous gift was a symbol of how dearly he loved Hannah. As you might imagine, this left Peninnah feeling threatened, and in turn, she would provoke Hannah. Year after year, this resulted in Hannah weeping and refusing to eat. Elkanah seemed oblivious to this tension, and the pain of Hannah’s infertility. He once asked her, “Hannah, why do you weep? Why do you not eat? Why is your heart sad? Am I not more to you than ten sons?”* One year, following the meal, Hannah was so deeply distressed that she presented herself before God in the temple. She wept and prayed silently for a child. She promised God that should she give birth, she would offer that child as one consecrated for service to God. Eli, the temple leader, noticed Hannah’s mouth was moving without any sound coming out. Assuming she was drunk in the temple, he went to reprimand her, when he discovered she had been in prayer. Hannah poured her heart out to Eli, who in turn prayed for her. She left the temple feeling better. With time, Hannah became pregnant, and eventually gave birth to Samuel. After he was weaned, she brought him to Eli, to minister in the temple, while she went on to give birth to five more children. When we meet Samuel in today’s lesson, he is asleep on the temple floor near dawn. A voice cries out: “Samuel! Samuel!”* Samuel assumes it must be Eli calling after him, so he runs to him and says: “Here I am, for you called me.”* Eli, who had been asleep, retorts: I didn’t call you, go back to sleep. This happens twice more. Eli begins to realize this may be God calling Samuel. He instructs Samuel to go lie down, and this time, to stay and respond: “Speak God, for your servant is listening.” Samuel does as instructed. And God responds by speaking to Samuel: “See, I am about to do something in Israel that will make both ears of anyone who hears it tingle.” God then goes on to explain all that will befall Eli’s family. Some background on Eli.** While Eli had once had the potential to be a strong leader, he had let his power, privilege, and position distract him from listening to God. Two of Eli’s sons served as priests in the temple, and their behavior was appalling. These scoundrels took the best portion of the sacrifices for themselves, while also mistreating and assaulting women who served outside the temple. Eli was aware of their behavior, yet he did nothing. He let abuse after abuse take place. While God had warned Eli to stop his sons, Eli’s love of power and privilege prevented him from taking God’s voice seriously. This is why throughout the first few chapters of 1 Samuel, Eli is described as having dimmed senses - both literally and metaphorically. Samuel must have felt quite uneasy with the information God had given him. After all, Samuel had essentially grown up under Eli. The next morning, Eli insisted Samuel tell him everything God had said. While a bit reluctant, Samuel spoke the truth in love to Eli - soon his family would lose everything. Eli, in a way that is quite admirable, essentially responds by saying - May it be so. Samuel goes on to become a trustworthy prophet of God, whose ministry is focused on putting an end to corruption. While Eli is a complicated and broken leader, there is good in him. Julian of Norwich once wrote, “...God is everything that is good, and the goodness that is in everything is God.”*** Eli’s family was corrupt, beyond repair. Yet even as Eli’s leadership was diminishing, the goodness within him accepted his fate, and selflessly helped this young boy hear and respond to God’s call. He helped Samuel listen. Eli did not manipulate Samuel, or misuse the information, or make it about him in any way. Instead, he helped Samuel listen and accepted his own fate. Given Samuel grew up in the unscrupulous environment cultivated by Eli’s sons, it turns out Samuel is uniquely poised to become a prophet who addresses corruption. Our experiences in life, particularly the hard ones, shape and form us. Again and again, God makes a way out of no way. The challenges and hardships we face, somehow become opportunities to serve God and one another. Eli was imperfect, but he did this one good thing. While he was slow to realize it, once he suspected the voice belonged to God, he equipped Samuel with how to respond. He sharpened his listening, and guided Samuel on how to proceed. Over the course of our lives we are blessed by the listening presence, wisdom, support, and companionship of family, friends, mentors, teachers, elders and little ones who teach us how to listen for the voice of God. These folks walk with us as we discern, and encourage us along the journey. They selflessly point us towards God, and the best versions of ourselves. These relationships are gems we can treasure our entire lives, because these relationships shape, form, and nurture us long after our relationship may endure, as people move away, change paths, or die. Recently, one of my first mentors, Jane, died after a long illness. Mid-career, Jane left a successful law practice to serve as the Diocese of Maine’s Youth Missioner. For over 20 years, she helped teens and young adults discover, grow, and deepen their faith. As I look back, it really amazes me how many of the youth from that community discerned calls to ministry, particularly into helping professions. Some of us discerned calls to ordained ministry; others to music ministry. Some felt the tug of God to go engage in mission work. I’ll never forget sitting at a table with some young adults from this community, while one shared that they had just finished selling all of their worldly possessions as part of their preparation to go and live as a missionary in Asia. Many more discerned calls to be social workers, teachers, and work in non-profits or government agencies that are working for justice and mercy. Still more serve in leadership roles in their local churches as lay leaders. Through regular youth events and gatherings, Jane cultivated a community where it was safe to be ourselves; where we could be painfully honest about what we thought of God and the Church; where we could be our messy, authentic selves. And Jane couldn’t have done that on her own. She had a knack for finding adults to volunteer at these events who enjoyed listening to teens and encouraging them in positive and healthy ways. Some were parents and grandparents, others youth group leaders, still others deacons and priests. We were empowered to lead liturgy, proclaim the gospel, offer sermons, administer the cup, sing boldly, and be leaders in the Church. What started as a group of teenagers in Maine has grown into a diaspora of Episcopalians who are now adults serving in a variety of fashions across the globe. All because Jane, and the adults that worked alongside her, loved God deeply, and knew how to listen. They nurtured and supported us, as we navigated finding the words. They taught us to say, Here I am. Speak for your servant is listening. As we continue to sit with the calling of Samuel this week, I would invite us to do some reflecting. Who has blessed our lives with their listening presence? With their wisdom, support, and companionship? What did we learn from them about ourselves? About God and God’s world? Who in our lives needs us to be a listening presence right now? To walk beside and encourage along the way? Might we engage in this holy listening together? Amen. * Scripture reference from 1 Samuel 3:1-20 ** Scripture references from this paragraph are drawn from 1 Samuel 1-2 *** Julian of Norwich in Revelations of Divine Love, ST 5, pg 9. By Rev. Heather J. Blais, Rector Today we celebrate the Feast of the Epiphany. This feast takes place each year on January 6, and marks the arrival of the magi, who followed a star from a distant land to find the Christ-child. Like Christmas, Epiphany is more than a day. Rather, it is an entire liturgical season of revelation that lasts until Lent. During this season, our scripture readings recall the many ways Jesus was revealed to people-- from his baptism, to the calling of the disciples, to the transfiguration. Every element of this season is meant to emphasize Jesus’ mission to bring God’s dream to the whole of creation. It all begins with today’s gospel lesson from Matthew. While Luke’s gospel tells us of Mary’s child being born in a manger, and shepherds coming to pay their respects, it is only in Matthew’s gospel that we learn about the magi. The word ‘magi’ is Greek, and translates in English to ‘wise men’. The magi were a class of Zoroastrian priests and were renowned astrologers with a gift for interpreting dreams.* With time, the tradition of the magi evolved.They eventually became known as ‘kings’ and were each given names and histories.** While the gospel does not quantify the number of magi, the Eastern traditions have generally settled on twelve; while in the West we have landed on three.** This is likely because they brought three gifts - gold, frankincense, and myrrh.** I would suggest that the magi also have much to offer us. Their very presence in Bethlehem is a gift, as it boldly proclaims that the Christ-child is for everyone, no exceptions. They help us begin to appreciate the breadth of God’s radical welcome and inclusivity. These religious leaders are referred to as Gentiles, a name for those who do not practice Judaism. When they saw the rising of a star in the East, they experienced a call to come and bear witness. The magi turn their lives upside down, traveling from Persia, in what is now modern day Iran, all the way to Bethlehem. This journey would have taken several months, possibly even years. Bringing with them gifts that were meant more for a coronation, than for a new mother and child. Yet the gifts represent the magi’s reverence for the Christ-child. The newly born King of the Jewish people would usher in a new kind of reign that would look like none other, before or since. A reign of Divine Love meant for the whole of creation. And, something quite radical is worth noting. While every pilgrim is changed by their journey, these magi came to Bethlehem as Zorastian priests, and they went home as Zorastian priests. In other words, religious conversion was not required of the magi. Conversion to Judaism, or to the not-yet-even-an-idea religion of Christianity. The gift of the Christ-child is bigger than any one religion or way of life. Rather it is a gift of Divine Love for all. The magi also offer us insight by contrasting the distinctly different reigns of Herod and Christ. In our story, the magi are unknowingly drawn into the self-interested web of destruction woven by Herod the Great. While Herod’s title was ‘King of Judea’, in reality, he was a political appointee. He served under, and at the pleasure of, Roman Emperor Augustus. Scholars have noted that he was only partially Jewish, and often would respond savagely to potential rivals, particularly Jewish rivals.* Herod is a leader who seeks power and wants to hold onto it at all costs. He immediately perceives the Christ-child as a threat. It ignites his fear, which spreads a wildfire of fear, uncertainty, and anxiety amongst the people of Jerusalem. Herod does not care about the ripple effect of his beliefs, decisions, and actions. The suffering that ensues is of no concern to him. Herod misuses the resources of his position to learn where the Christ-child was thought to be born. He then attempts to manipulate the magi, hoping to trick them into telling him the location of the child, so he might ‘pay his respects’. Yet that kind of selfishness leaves its mark, and when we pay attention, our intuition will raise the alarm and guide us away. The magi do go on to find the Christ-child in Bethlehem and are ‘overwhelmed with joy’. Yet having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they go home by another way. When Herod realizes the magi caught on to his despair and trickery, avoiding him altogether, it sends him even further into madness. In the verses that follow today’s, Herod retaliates by sending soldiers to kill all the children under two years of age in and around Bethlehem. The untold suffering that resulted from this one man’s selfishness and fear is incomprehensible. Thankfully, like the magi, Joseph had been warned in a dream, and had led the holy family into Egypt where they lived as refugees until Herod’s death. Herod’s self-interested and fear-driven model of leadership is uncomfortably familiar. We have seen it throughout all forms of government, and across the political spectrum. Self-interest and fear drives too many leaders, and those ‘served’ are the ones who suffer most. The magi’s pilgrimage points us toward an entirely different kind of leadership. They guide us to a mother and her young child. A child born from an all powerful Creator, who willingly set it all aside, to embody Divine Love as the ultimate gift for the whole of creation. Lifting up a vision for this world like one we’ve yet to truly comprehend. God’s dream is a vision that upholds the whole of the human family and all of creation. A vision of a world ruled by divine justice; where the riches of creation are cared for and made available to all; that Love is the rule that guides our beliefs, decisions, and actions. Finally, the magi also offer us an opportunity for self-reflection. Reflection that is imperative if we want to help bring about God’s dream for this world. The magi witness the ripple effect of Herod’s fear, just as we watch fear play out in the news on a daily basis. The misinformation that spreads, the misunderstandings that ensues, the misuse of power and resources, and the senseless suffering of innocents. Witnessing such destruction invites us to take a holy pause and examine our own inner landscape. Archbishop Desmond Tutu and the Dalai Lama write about fear in The Book of Joy. They write: “For fear, it can help to face the fear directly. You can think of the worst thing that could happen if your fear comes true. Now, could you or your loved one survive what might happen? Could it actually be beneficial for you or your loved ones? What could you or they learn if this were to happen? How might this allow you or them to grow and deepen as a person? For example, perhaps you are worried about your child who is struggling in school and you are afraid some bad outcome will come to pass. Ask yourself, ‘Is it true that this outcome will definitely happen? How do I know for sure? Does my worry help the situation? Is there a better way of thinking about it or approaching the situation? What might my child learn from that experience? How might they grow and develop as a person?’ When we turn and embrace what we fear, it loses its power to frighten us. We no longer need to fight it, but can instead work with it.” *** What would it look like to try this exercise? In any case, as we head back out into the world today, I hope we might accept the magi’s invitation to examine our own inner landscape. To consider:
Sources:
*NRSV, p.1749; JANT, p.13; ** https://www.britannica.com/topic/Magi *** The Book of Joy by Dalai Lama and Desmond Tutu with Douglas Abrams, p. 317-318. By Rev. Heather J. Blais, Rector Today we heard the opening verses of Mark’s gospel. It starts: “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.”* Some translations read, “The beginning of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.”* Still other ancient translations lack ‘the Son of God’ at the end of the sentence.* We are one sentence into the gospel, and there is already so much we could unpack! All this is to say, we are looking at an ancient text, that is living and breathing, and always has new insights to offer us. As our United Church of Christ friends like to say, “God is still speaking.” When we think of the gospels, we tend to think of books. Yet when this text first came into being it was something much more provocative. It was a text that proclaimed the Gospel of Jesus Christ over and against the more widely accepted, or at least tolerated, Gospel of Caesar.* Mark is proclaiming Jesus as a kind of Messiah figure over and against Caesar. Listeners have to decide what sort of Messiah Jesus might be: Royal? Priestly? Prophetic? Salvific? Peaceful? Maternal?*Right off the bat, Mark is turning the world as people knew it upside down and right side up again with Jesus’ message. Mark’s action packed, direct, and brief gospel is urgently proclaiming there is good news to hear NOW. In the next two verses, Mark grounds his narrative in the prophets. While our translation names one prophet, specifically Isaiah; other ancient texts simply refer to ‘in the prophets’.* This explains why Mark pulls from both Malachi and Isaiah (Mal 3:1; Isa 40:3).* Scholars think he drew his reference from a testimonia, which was a collection of verses on a common theme; in this instance ‘God’s way.’* Mark tells of a new prophet, reminiscent of Elijah, who is preparing God’s way. ‘Way’ was a technical term in Greek, Jewish, and Christian discourse.* It generally meant choosing the good or better path, albeit difficult, instead of the immoral or easy path. We know from Acts of the Apostles that early believers did not call themselves Christians, but rather people ‘belonging to the way’(9:2). It is why we talk about the ‘Way of Love’. And why in Mark’s gospel, John the Baptist is proclaiming the ‘Way of Jesus’.* John’s primary tool for ‘preparing the way’ was a form of baptism. Water purification rituals had already been on the rise, as they offered cleansing after a period of impurity.* These rituals supported the Jewish community as they lived into the cleanliness and purity laws outlined in the Torah.*For example, following menstruation or coming in contact with a deceased person, one might partake in a water purification ritual.* That said, John the Baptist took a water purification ritual and gave it new symbolic meaning to forgive sins. The end result was that droves of people were coming to see him in the wilderness. Mark writes: “John was baptizing in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. And people from the whole Judean countryside and all the people of Jerusalem were going out to him and were baptized by him in the river Jordan, confessing their sins.” It’s quite curious. What was it about John the Baptist, his message, and this ritual that was so attractive to the masses? Commentator Timothy Adkins-Jones speculates why. He writes “[John the Baptist’s] location in the wilderness and his peculiar clothing did signal a certain kind of prophetic bona fides. His camel-hair frock and leather belt would have signified a connection to Elijah. The peculiar diet, locusts and honey, also would have nodded to Elijah as they demonstrated a kind of desperate dependence on God for sustenance that mirrors what Elijah went through by the brook Cherith.”** He goes on to say: “One thing that seems clear…is that the people were passionate about something that would affect them right then and there. This was not a baptism or even evangelism that pointed toward an afterlife; they were rushing to the wilderness for something that would change their lives at that moment… The people were excited not only about getting to John, receiving the baptism, but also about confessing their sins. It seems that the combination of the baptism ritual and the confession of their sins was a cleansing process that allowed them to return to their communities not only with a newfound commitment to their faith but also free of the burden of those sins.”** And all the while giving people hope by alluding something more was to come, one even greater than he who would baptize with the Holy Spirit. John was offering something people were desperate for: the release, grace, forgiveness, and new beginning that we receive whenever we genuinely confess our sins and seek to start again. That is why droves of people were headed into the wilderness for this ritual. There was a new awareness that we do not need to go through this life carrying the heavy burdens of our mistakes, shame, and brokenness. Because when we let that keep us down in the spiritual gutter it limits our capacity to keep growing in faith and to love our neighbor as we love ourselves. After all, when we are unable to love ourselves, we limit our ability to authentically love our neighbor. John was offering them redemption, hope, and the joy of beginning again. One of the things I love about our tradition is that in most of our liturgies we have a confession of sins. We confess our brokenness and mistakes not because of our awfulness, but because of our humanness. If we are to be authentically human, and be in a relationship, it means we are going to take risks, make mistakes, hurt one another, and fall short. Our liturgy celebrates this as part of the human experience, and recognizes our need to offer those tender burdens to God as an offering. And in turn God offers us whatever it is we most need in that moment: absolution, compassion, grace, forgiveness, love, hope, joy, peace, abundance of life, and so on… Walter Brueggeman writes in prayer, “We carry old secrets too painful to utter too shameful to acknowledge too burdensome to bear, of failures we cannot undo, of alienations we regret but cannot fix, of grandiose exhibits we cannot curb. And you know them. You know them all. And so we take a deep sigh in your presence, no longer needing to pretend and cover up and deny. We mostly do not have big sins to confess, only modest shames that do not fit our hoped-for selves. And then we find that your knowing is more powerful than our secrets. You know and do not turn away, and our secrets that seemed too powerful are emptied of strength, secrets that seemed too burdensome are now less severe… …We long to be fully, honestly exposed to your gaze of gentleness. In the moment of your knowing we are eased and lightened, and we feel the surge of joy move in our bodies…”*** Brueggemann writes of the discovery we experience on repeat if we are open to it.Each time we offer our tender wounds and burdens to God in confession, we make space within ourselves to receive whatever it is we need most from God at that moment: being seen and known, accepted and loved, always and forever. Changed once again by God’s loving embrace, and living that change with those around us. We know that this season of Advent is a time of getting ready. Last week we spent some time getting ready by proclaiming where we see hope, and our answers will continue to grace the door of our sanctuary this Advent and Christmas. Today, I’m going to ask us to do another wild and risky thing - and then I promise, no more activities, at least until next year! I want to invite us into a couple of minutes of quiet reflection so we might consider:
Our ushers are going to give you a couple of slips of paper, and if you are comfortable doing so, I would encourage you to write down a word, phrase, or symbol that reflects your answers. Then either hand them to an Usher or come forward and staple yours onto our paper chain, and if you're more comfortable, the confession could be on the inside. This chain will decorate our altar rail as a symbol of our offering and gratitude to God that will be here through Advent and Christmas season. For those joining us online, please feel free to add them to the comment section or send me an email so they can be added to the paper chain. (Silence, reflection, & activity) This is one more small way that we continue to ready ourselves for the coming of the Christ-child. We offer this all to Your Glory, O God. Amen. * The Jewish Annotated New Testament (pg 69-70). ** https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/second-sunday-of-advent-2/commentary-on-mark-11-8-6 *** From Whom No Secrets Are Hid, Prayers for a Privileged People, pg 7-8 By Rev. Heather J. Blais, Rector Today we begin a new church calendar year with the season of Advent. This is a season of anticipation. Anticipation that will be symbolized in…
Over the next four weeks, we will watch the shadows lengthen. We will eagerly await and remember…
In recent weeks, we’ve been reflecting on our shared Christian hope, and how we wait faithfully, as we live into the vast expanse of time between Jesus’ life, death, and resurrection and the end of time when God’s purpose for this world will be fulfilled. Today’s gospel lesson pushes us to take waiting faithfully a step further. The passage takes place in Jesus’ final days. He is reminding the disciples to be alert, as he’s already told them everything they need to know about the completion of God’s purpose on earth. He then uses the fig tree as an example of what signs to look for, and then immediately shifts into another example that is vague - leaving listeners a bit confused about what signs they are to be looking for exactly. Commentator Timothy Adkins-Jones suggests this mixed messaging is actually offering listeners some very concrete advice: “...we are to stay ready so that we don’t have to get ready.”* In other words, we are called to embrace our faith each and every day. We are to live into the rituals and rhythms of prayer, community, and outreach. We are to embody the Way of Love, and to hold onto our shared Christian hope, knowing one day, God’s dream of peace, justice, and love will come to fruition. Our diocese recently held a webinar, featuring the Rev. Dr. Jesse Zink, principal at Montreal Diocesan Seminary.** Some of you may have met Rev. Zink, as he grew up in our diocese at St. John’s in Northampton. In the webinar, Rev. Zink spoke with diocesan leaders about hope in the face of a world afflicted with multiple crises. While I commend you to watch it, and will post a link to it with this sermon, I want to share a few of his observations. Rev. Zink began by sharing a relatively new term, polycrisis, which is when crises in multiple global systems become casually entangled in ways that ‘degrade humanity’s prospects’. We regularly pray about these crises: the intensifying conflicts around the globe; the climate crisis; widespread human migration; and the complications and challenges of a consumer driven economy. He asked us: What does it mean to proclaim Christian good news in a time of polycrisis? How do we live out our shared Christian hope? Rev. Zink reminded us that our hope is based on the knowledge and belief that God has acted, God is acting, and God will act in the future. We trust that God will bring about peace, and we hold onto this promise. The question the Church has faced in every generation is: How do we live now in light of what we believe God will do? Rev. Zink also offered some context on what hope is not.
Rev. Zink went on to remind us that in this polycrisis world, it can be hard to believe in a future. Our challenge is to not give into cynicism and despair, as it is not what the Gospel calls us into. The Gospel reminds us we are a people of the Way of Love, and we trust in the knowledge that there is a future, and it is a future worth living for. And this hope shapes our actions and our life now. However, it doesn't magically make things better. In fact, Rev. Zink defined hope as: “... a gritty, engaged, hanging-on-by-the-fingernails, no-options-left ethic for a world that feels uncertain and out of control.” Rev. Zink left us with some advice on how we might lean into our shared Christian hope. He encouraged us to look to the ministry of Jesus of Nazareth:
Rev. Zink’s reflections on hope in a crisis shaped world felt very timely. Everyday we are reminded of the numerous challenges we are facing on a global and national scale, and it is indeed very hard to not become snarky and cynical. Maybe even more burdensome are the personal challenges we carry, and the temptation to do so in silence and isolation. We struggle with the challenges of caregiving, anxiety, depression, enduring grief, relationships ending, financial hardship, and a sense of helplessness around the suffering of our loved ones and neighbors. Despair can feel so close at hand. Yet here we are, carving out time to be together as a community in worship. We gather each week, in worship, to remind ourselves we are a people of hope, we trust in God’s promise of a future grounded in peace, justice, and love. We are fed by the scriptures, prayers, eucharist, and time together as a community. We then go out into the world to be agents of hope in a world grappling with despair. We remind ourselves of God’s dream, and we let it inspire how we live, breathe, and move. We are a people of hope. The world is hungry for hope, and we are uniquely poised to share that hope. To that end, I want to invite everyone to take a couple of minutes to reflect on hope.
The Ushers will hand out post its and pens and I invite you to jot down a word, sentence, or drawing that for you symbolizes hope. When you’re ready, please come and post it on this board, or raise your hand and an usher will take it and post it on the board for you. This board will live in our Narthex throughout the Advent and Christmas seasons. So that anyone who passes through these doors, whether it be for a few minutes of silent prayer during the week, or during worship, they will be reminded that there is hope. Dear ones, there was hope in the beginning, there is hope now, and there always will be hope in the Eternal Source of Love. Amen. Mark 13: 24-37 *https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/first-sunday-of-advent-2/commentary-on-mark-1324-37-6 ** https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IHE7Css4Ew4 |
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