First Sunday after Christmas Dec 29 2024 Grace Episcopal Church

First Sunday after Christmas Dec 29 2024 Grace Episcopal Church

Isaiah 61:10-62:3, Galatians 3:23-25; 4:4-7, John 1:1-18, Psalm 147 or 147:13-21
 
John begins at the beginning; in the beginning was the Word. And so John, very intentionally, 
places us at the beginning, Calling to mind the first words of the first book of the Holy Scripture that John had on his heart, From Genesis, in the beginning when God created the heavens and the earth. And so John very intentionally introduces us to one of the themes that for him shapes all of faith, the light that has come into the world.
 
I know sometimes the translation in The Message seems odd, but in this case I really like it, in John 1 we hear, “The Word was first, the Word present to God, God present to the Word. The Word was God, in readiness for God from day one. Everything was created through him; nothing—not one thing!—came into being without him. What came into existence was Life, and the Life was Light to live by. The Life-Light blazed out of the darkness; the darkness couldn’t put it out.”
 
And as we know, John’s beginning parallels the very first words of our sacred story in Genesis 1. Again, from the Message we hear “God spoke: “Light!” And light appeared. God saw that light was good and separated light from dark. God named the light Day, God named the dark Night. 
It was evening, it was morning—Day One.” 

So it isn’t just seasonal, though at this time of the year we are very conscious of the lack of light,
for John light and dark, life and death are the same thing. The light bursts into the world, God with us, it is wondrous.

I wonder how you imagine this wondrous thing that God does? Creation, incarnation, resurrection. I think many of you know that I have been a swimmer my whole life. So I imagine swimming, maybe you can too. Maybe snorkeling or even SCUBA diving in a beautiful, sun filled ocean. You dive. You dive deep. You dive to the depths of the ocean. It is cold, and dark, and beautiful. You see fish and plants you’ve never seen before, but always through the darkness of that ocean water. You see only what is in front of your face. Your breath is shallow, not deep and complete. Not only are there beautiful fish, but there are fish that look like monsters. You return to the surface. You very slowly return to the sun and warmth and light, because you must having dived so deep. At your return to the surface you see more clearly, breathe more deeply.
 
And you may see the world a little differently, in ways you may not have imagined feeling the warmth of the sunshine all over your body. I think this is what incarnation is like, this is what resurrection is like, this is what new life is like. God dives down deep into our dimly lit lives, 
Like in the depths of the ocean. And Jesus swims around us and enlightens our underwater vision so we can see and care for all of the teeming creation. And Jesus picks us up off the bottom of the ocean and carries us into that sunshine, into that new life that we inhabit.
 
Incarnation and resurrection, birthed out of the waters of creation, the waters of baptism, the waters of new life. Bathed in the light that dispels the darkness. For John, there is always hope 
that the smallest source of light might create the possibility of love and belief and connection.
 
And for John, darkness represents the lack of relationship and connection. God speaks the Word into this world, Jesus dives into our lives for light, for love, for relationship, for connection. 
John calls us to turn around and face the Light, to fall on our knees and be forgiven. And today John calls us to be partners with him in pointing the way to the Light.
 
We are yet in the season of incarnation, God in the flesh meeting us in the flesh. God came to be with us in the flesh not to relieve us of the mess and the muck of this life, but in the flesh God stands by our side, takes our hand, sometimes even carries us, and loves us. And that kind of love changes us, we can't help but be changed. God in the flesh reminds us in our flesh that we don't need to be perfect because we are perfectly loved. We don't need to consume and acquire to possess worth; we are enough just the way we are created. God in the flesh reminds us in our flesh that we don't need to gain attention to earn God's love, God has already loved us into ourselves.
 
Incarnation is a mystery, and yet it is not so hard. Incarnation, God in the flesh, is about love in a very real sense, it is about God’s commitment to you and to me to walk this journey with us, and it is about our commitment to love. Christmas is not about the presents; it is about God’s presence with us, and your presence with those whose path you cross. Incarnation is about showing up, and showing forth the light that shines in darkness, and the love that wins. Love is born into human flesh. 

I leave you with a poem today. 
Because Madeleine L’engle can always say it better than me.

God did not wait till the world was ready,
till men and nations were at peace.
God came when the Heavens were unsteady,
and prisoners cried out for release.
God did not wait for the perfect time.
God came when the need was deep and great.
Jesus dined with sinners in all their grime,
turned water into wine.
He did not wait till hearts were pure.
In joy Jesus came to a tarnished world of sin and doubt.
To a world like ours, of anguished shame
he came, and his Light would not go out.
Jesus came to a world which did not mesh,
to heal its tangles, shield its scorn.
In the mystery of the Word made Flesh
the Maker of the stars was born.
We cannot wait till the world is sane
to raise our songs with joyful voice,
for to share our grief, to touch our pain,
God came with Love: Rejoice! Rejoice!

Madeleine L’Engle, First Coming, from A Cry Like a Bell

Fourth Sunday of Advent Yr C Dec 22 2024 St. Martha and Mary, Eagan

Fourth Sunday of Advent Yr C Dec 22 2024 St. Martha and Mary, Eagan

Micah 5:2-5a, Hebrews 10:5-10, Luke 1:39-45, (46-55), Canticle 15

When Elizabeth heard Mary’s greeting, the baby leapt in her womb. Imagine these two women - Elizabeth, barren and too old to conceive, Mary, unmarried and too young to have a baby - both of these women have been favored by God. Elizabeth exclaims, “This is what the lord has done for me when he looked favorably on me and took away the disgrace I have endured among my people.” Being barren in Elizabeth’s world was shameful. Shame means unworthy, and yet in this story Elizabeth is far from shamed, far from unworthy, she is favored by God. And Elizabeth recognizes Mary also as a favored one. I wondered about what that means, so I did a little digging, and learned that favor here means being seen, being regarded. 

Elizabeth’s and Mary’s stories are woven together, not only are they relatives, they are both favored by God. They are both seen by God, they are both regarded by God. Elizabeth stands up and claims God’s regard for herself, and then proclaims God’s regard for her young cousin Mary. Elizabeth knows the blessedness of Mary because she has experienced it herself. Elizabeth calls Mary “mother of my Lord.” And Elizabeth feels a leap of joy in her womb. These are indeed inconceivable conceptions. 

Being seen, being regarded by God, as both Elizabeth and Mary are, this is no small thing. One of the deepest longings of the human soul is to be seen. You see, this is what is happening in these inconceivable conceptions. God came into Elizabeth’s life when her culture judged her worthless and barren, and God lifted her up among women and she bore John, the preparer of the way. God came into Mary’s life, a young Jewish girl, and told her she would be the mother of God. And yes, Mary did know. God came low, and saw Elizabeth and Mary, regarded Elizabeth and Mary, favored Elizabeth and Mary. God comes into our midst, God comes low. God comes into the mess and the muck of our lives, our stables. God stoops, and looks into our eyes and says, you are worthy, you are favored, you are loved. 

God finds Elizabeth and Mary, in the temple and in the farmyard, around the family table, and God sees them. God sees Mary, young Mary, of no means, and God risks everything, and enters creation in the same way you and I did, as a baby. Before God fed us with bread and wine, body and blood, God was fed by a mother who was exhausted and unsure. 

Have you ever asked yourself why you are a follower of Jesus? I have, and this is why. Right here, in this story. God, the creator of all that is - seen and unseen, comes low, and in the vulnerability of a baby, says to Mary, and Elizabeth, and all the women before them and after them, I see you, you are favored. And not just the women, but men too, and all the others in between. God enters the wilderness and lifts up the lowly and scatters the proud. God sees us, God loves us, God favors us. God wants to know us. 

Even when that is so hard to believe. Remember, faith is not reasonable- because it wasn’t for reason, but for love -that Jesus came. 

It is for love that Jesus came, and maybe we can respond like Mary, like Elizabeth. Maybe we can respond with shouts of joy, with dances of gladness. This Good News changes us forever; it changes our world forever. It is as inconceivable and unreasonable that each of us is a God-bearer as it is that Mary is a Christ-bearer. It is inconceivable that God bursts into our world. And yet, all of Advent we wait in active anticipation of the moment that God bursts into our world as a baby, and that God bursts into our world to bring our history; our lives, to fulfillment. 

Mary takes her place among the messengers of God’s kingdom, from Miriam and Hannah to Isaiah and Malichi, all those who were prompted by the spirit of God to call their people to repent and rejoice. Mary’s song calls us to respond in joy and praise. The gospel of Luke is filled with people singing songs of praise. The Benedictus, known as the song of Zechariah, Luke 1:68-79, page 92, Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel. The Nunc Dimittus, the song of Simeon, Luke 2:29-32, p. 93, Lord, you now have set your servant free, the Magnificat, the song of Mary, Luke 1:46-55, p. 91, My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord. And Luke’s gospel ends in the temple with praise, after the ascension, they returned to Jerusalem with great joy; and they were continually in the temple blessing God. The response to joy is praise - and Luke gives us the words to praise. 

Mary has been seen by God. She has been raised a good Jewish girl. She knows her scripture, she knows her place. Saying yes to God puts her in a very awkward, precarious, and dangerous position, others before her have been stoned when found pregnant and unmarried. She is not perfect, but she is perfectly loved. God comes low to inhabit a most vulnerable creation, a baby, born from a woman of no account, in a most humble place, a barn. And Mary responds, my soul proclaims the goodness of the Lord. 

And she also sings about the justice God brings to God’s people with the birth of love. Mary’s song of praise is also Mary’s song of justice. God is born in a barn, to Mary, and to Joseph, who have very little, but who say yes to this love. Mary knows that this life will be filled with heartache that will give birth to God in our midst. God favors Mary, God sees Mary. Saying yes to God makes this life joyful, but not necessarily easy. 

God sees you too, God loves you too. What is your Magnificat? What is your response to God’s magnificent love? I find my Magnificat contained in a Christmas Hymn,

O Holy Night!

The stars are brightly shining

It is the night of the dear Savior's birth!

Long lay the world in sin and error pining

Till he appear'd and the soul felt its worth.

A thrill of hope the weary soul rejoices

For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn!

May you say yes with Mary, may you trust that you have found favor with God and recognize yourself in the reflection of God’s love, may your soul cry out with a joyful shout that the God of your heart is great.

Amen.