Monthly Archives: December 2016

Advent Antiphons—December 22

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From The Book of Common Worship’s Times and Seasons (p.58).

These antiphons, or refrains, all beginning ‘O …’, were sung before and after the Magnificat at Vespers, according to the Roman use, on the seven days preceding Christmas Eve (17–23 December). They are addressed to God, calling for him to come as teacher and deliverer, with a tapestry of scriptural titles and pictures that describe his saving work in Christ. In the medieval rite of Salisbury Cathedral that was widely followed in England before the Reformation, the antiphons began on 16 December and there was an additional antiphon (‘O Virgin of virgins’) on 23 December; this is reflected in the Calendar of The Book of Common Prayer, where 16 December is designated O Sapientia (O Wisdom). The Common Worship Calendar has adopted the more widely used form. It is not known when and by whom the antiphons were composed, but they were already in use by the eighth century.

22 December – O Rex Gentium

O King of the nations, and their desire, the cornerstone making both one: Come and save the human race, which you fashioned from clay.

–cf Isaiah 28.16; Ephesians 2.14

Advent Antiphons—December 21

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From The Book of Common Worship’s Times and Seasons (p.58).

These antiphons, or refrains, all beginning ‘O …’, were sung before and after the Magnificat at Vespers, according to the Roman use, on the seven days preceding Christmas Eve (17–23 December). They are addressed to God, calling for him to come as teacher and deliverer, with a tapestry of scriptural titles and pictures that describe his saving work in Christ. In the medieval rite of Salisbury Cathedral that was widely followed in England before the Reformation, the antiphons began on 16 December and there was an additional antiphon (‘O Virgin of virgins’) on 23 December; this is reflected in the Calendar of The Book of Common Prayer, where 16 December is designated O Sapientia (O Wisdom). The Common Worship Calendar has adopted the more widely used form. It is not known when and by whom the antiphons were composed, but they were already in use by the eighth century.

21 December – O Oriens

O Morning Star, splendor of light eternal and sun of righteousness: Come and enlighten those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death.

–cf Malachi 4.2

Advent Antiphons—December 20

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From The Book of Common Worship’s Times and Seasons (p.58).

These antiphons, or refrains, all beginning ‘O …’, were sung before and after the Magnificat at Vespers, according to the Roman use, on the seven days preceding Christmas Eve (17–23 December). They are addressed to God, calling for him to come as teacher and deliverer, with a tapestry of scriptural titles and pictures that describe his saving work in Christ. In the medieval rite of Salisbury Cathedral that was widely followed in England before the Reformation, the antiphons began on 16 December and there was an additional antiphon (‘O Virgin of virgins’) on 23 December; this is reflected in the Calendar of The Book of Common Prayer, where 16 December is designated O Sapientia (O Wisdom). The Common Worship Calendar has adopted the more widely used form. It is not known when and by whom the antiphons were composed, but they were already in use by the eighth century. 

20 December – O Clavis David

O Key of David and sceptre of the House of Israel; you open and no one can shut; you shut and no one can open: Come and lead the prisoners from the prison house, those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death.

–cf Isaiah 22.22; 42.7

Advent Antiphons—December 19

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From The Book of Common Worship’s Times and Seasons (p.58).

These antiphons, or refrains, all beginning ‘O …’, were sung before and after the Magnificat at Vespers, according to the Roman use, on the seven days preceding Christmas Eve (17–23 December). They are addressed to God, calling for him to come as teacher and deliverer, with a tapestry of scriptural titles and pictures that describe his saving work in Christ. In the medieval rite of Salisbury Cathedral that was widely followed in England before the Reformation, the antiphons began on 16 December and there was an additional antiphon (‘O Virgin of virgins’) on 23 December; this is reflected in the Calendar of The Book of Common Prayer, where 16 December is designated O Sapientia (O Wisdom). The Common Worship Calendar has adopted the more widely used form. It is not known when and by whom the antiphons were composed, but they were already in use by the eighth century.

19 December – O  Radix Jesse

O Root of Jesse, standing as a sign among the peoples; before you kings will shut their mouths, to you the nations will make their prayer: Come and deliver us, and delay no longer.

–cf Isaiah 11.10; 45.14; 52.15; Romans 15.12 

Bishop Tom Wright: Advent Devotionals Week 4

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Rebellion and Promise

Luke 1:57-80: Zechariah’s Prophecy, The Kingdom New Testament

The time arrived for Elisabeth’s child to be born, and she gave birth to a son. Her neighbours and relatives heard that the Lord had increased his mercy to her, and they came to celebrate with her.

Now on the eighth day, when they came to circumcise the child, they were calling him by his father’s name, Zechariah. But his mother spoke up.

‘No,’ she said, ‘he is to be called John.’

‘None of your relatives’, they objected, ‘is called by that name.’

They made signs to his father, to ask what he wanted him to be called. He asked for a writing tablet, and wrote on it, ‘His name is John.’

Everyone was astonished. Immediately his mouth and his tongue were unfastened, and he spoke, praising God. Fear came over all those who lived in the neighbourhood, and all these things were spoken of throughout all the hill country of Judaea. Everyone who heard about it turned the matter over in their hearts.

‘What then will this child become?’ they said. And the Lord’s hand was with him.

John’s father Zechariah was filled with the Holy Spirit, and spoke this prophecy:

‘Blessed be the Lord, Israel’s God!

He’s come to his people and bought them their freedom.

He’s raised up a horn of salvation for us

In David’s house, the house of his servant,

Just as he promised, through the mouths of the prophets,

The holy ones, speaking from ages of old:

Salvation from our enemies, rescue from hatred,

Mercy to our ancestors, keeping his holy covenant.

He swore an oath to Abraham our father,

To give us deliverance from enemy hands,

So we might worship him, holy and righteous

Before his face to the end of our days.

You, child, will be called the prophet of the Highest One,

Go ahead of the Lord, preparing his way,

Letting his people know of salvation,

Through the forgiveness of all their sins.

The heart of our God is full of mercy,

That’s why his daylight has dawned from on high,

Bringing light to the dark, as we sat in death’s shadow,

Guiding our feet in the path of peace.’

The child grew, and became powerful in the Spirit. He lived in the wilderness until the day when he was revealed to Israel.

Luke, like Matthew, anchors the story he is going to tell in the story of the Old Testament. But Luke, unlike Matthew, broadens this story almost immediately so that we are reminded that what God does for his people is actually of world-wide relevance. Luke Chapter One is full of echoes of First Samuel, of the original birth and call of Samuel, then Samuel’s ministry of finally anointing King David. He is wanting to say that John the Baptist, whose birth is like a new Samuel, is going to anoint the new and true King, Jesus, in his baptism.

But in Chapter Two, Luke broadens that perspective because ‘in those days a decree went out from Caesar Augustus that all the world should be enrolled, registered for taxation’. Suddenly we find ourselves not only on the map of Israel, but on the map of Rome, the greatest empire the world had ever known. And Luke wants us, I think, to relish the fact that Caesar in Rome gives a decree and at the far end of his empire, the ‘back of beyond’, as far as he was concerned, a young man and his intended bride go on a journey to Bethlehem and have a child. This is, in fact, the true King who is going to make Caesars, in the days to come, shiver in their shoes until finally they relent and acknowledge Him to be the Lord of the world.

All of that Luke is hinting in the way he sets the story up. And indeed, when we get to the genealogy of Jesus in Luke, we find that the genealogy goes back, not to Abraham, but actually to Adam. Luke is telling us the story of Jesus, as the story of the world, as the story of the whole human race, which is addressed by the God of the Old Testament, the God of Israel, who is now made known in Jesus.

Luke also indicates, right from the beginning, that this story is about the temple, about the judgment on the present temple, and about Jesus as the one who is building the new temple. The Gospel of Luke begins in the temple with Zechariah, who is given a vision, and not believing the vision, because the angel tells him that his wife is going to have a child and he doesn’t initially grasp that at all. Then, Jesus is presented in the temple, which is unique to Luke. This goes on right to the end of the Gospel of Luke. Right at the end of the Gospel of Luke, the disciples are in the temple praising God.

But the temple has been under judgment. As we find again and again in the Old Testament, the present Jerusalem temple has become the symbol of resistance to the will of God, a symbol of the fact that Israel is hard-hearted. The temple encapsulates the two stories we have seen throughout the Old Testament: the narrative of promise and of God’s presence, as well as the narrative of Israel’s rebellion.

In Luke 15 we find Jesus encapsulating the point of God’s presence and Israel’s rebellion in three parables. We find in Luke 15, ‘Now all the tax collectors and sinners were coming near to Jesus to listen to him’. Luke has many scenes where people are having parties and feasting with Jesus. And people grumble about it. ‘The Pharisees and Scribes are grumbling and saying, “This fellow welcomes sinners and eats with him”’. In other words, how could he possibly be announcing God’s kingdom? Because if he was really an agent announcing God’s kingdom, he would be respecting and favoring and spending time with the rest of us who are trying to keep the law—the rest of us who are ‘righteous’ and being faithful to Israel’s God. Jesus tells them the three parables: The Parable of the Lost Sheep, the Parable of the Lost Coin, and the Parable of the Lost Son, or the Parable of the Lost Sons (because the parable is as much about the older brother as it is about the younger). Each of these stories is about explaining why there is a party going on.

Here’s the punch: ‘Just so I tell you, there will be more joy in heaven over one sinner who repents than over ninety-nine righteous people who need no repentance’ (Luke 15:7). Jesus is saying, ‘When I am sharing fellowship with and welcoming and forgiving sinners, then the angels are having a party upstairs’. What he is saying is that we should be having a party downstairs as well. What he is doing, therefore, is joining together heaven and earth. He is saying that what I am doing is the actual instantiation on earth as in heaven of the celebration that is going on in God’s court among the angels. The angels are having a party and so should we! Heaven and earth coming together.

Then the risen Jesus, in Luke 24, explains how the whole story of Jesus’ life and death all fits together. The two disciples on the road to Emmaus are puzzled because they thought that this Jesus whom they followed was going to redeem Israel, that he was the one who was going to do at last what they have been waiting for hundreds of years. But they crucified him so he couldn’t have been the one. Jesus says, ‘You have it entirely upside down and inside out…. was it not necessary that the Messiah should suffer these things and then enter his glory?’.

The entire narrative is shaped by the creator God, shaped through Exodus, shaped through the story from Abraham to David, shaped by exile and the promises of restoration.

As we read Luke, we should see it as the culmination of that great scriptural story, but now being transformed into a new mode: the mode of mission, the mode of suffering, the mode of holiness, the mode of following Jesus to the ends of the earth.

N.T. Wright from a lecture in the course The Many Storied World of the Bible (not yet released).

Fr. Philip Sang—God with Us!

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Sermon delivered on Sunday, Advent 4A, December 18, 2016, at St. Augustine’s Anglican Church, Westerville, OH.

If you prefer to listen to the audio podcast of today’s sermon, click here.

Lectionary texts: Isaiah 7:10-16; Psalm 80:1-8, 17-19; Romans 1:1-7; Matthew 1:18-25.

Let us pray: May the words of my mouth and the meditation of our hearts be
acceptable to You, our Creator, Redeemer and Sustainer. In the name of God the
Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit Amen.

Since we started Advent, in the lectionary reading texts for the season, there
seemed to be a common theme that surfaced. The theme is waiting, and of course
that is no surprise to us during this Advent season. Immediately following
Thanksgiving, we start to anticipate Christmas. The texts have us waiting for even
larger and broader ideas. Our readings in Advent have certainly built up our hopes
and expectations, with promises about war turning into peace in the text about
beating swords in plowshares; gentleness, not violence, becoming “the norm” even
in nature itself, the lion lying with the lamb; and all of us coming home at last to
the God of healing, wholeness, and reconciliation. We’ve been looking forward,
not backward, in this season of anticipation, and today’s reading brings us to the
long-awaited moment of God’s dramatic “new thing,” God’s fresh, new act in the
drama of salvation. We are waiting for what could be considered idealistic
changes in our world. And we know they can only happen when we trust and
know that God is with us. However, we know the outcome of the waiting in the
texts we read today. They were waiting for Emmanuel, and we know that Jesus
was born. So, to truly understand the waiting experienced by our brothers and
sisters in Isaiah and Matthew, we must understand waiting in today’s context.

It is my assumption that each of us here know about waiting. Many of you have
waited for different reasons. Maybe it was waiting to find out about a job; the
results of a test, medical or otherwise; waiting to hear from a family member you
have tried to reach; waiting for a return call about insurance coverage; waiting to
find someone to share your life with; waiting for children; waiting for
grandchildren; waiting to be accepted into a college or program; waiting for a grant;
waiting for financing for a house or project; waiting to find a permanent place to
worship as we do. There is really no shortage of examples of ways or things that
we wait for today. And we don’t know the end result. So, this allows us to
understand the waiting we hear in our readings today.

Honestly though, the Psalm today does not seem to fit with the season, and yet
scriptures like Psalm always appear here during Advent. If you didn’t follow the
mood of the Psalm when it was read, listen to some of these lines:

“You feed them with the bread of tears; •
you give them abundance of tears to drink

“O Lord God of hosts, •
how long will you be angry at your people’s prayer??”

Psalm 80 has been called a communal hymn of lament — a lament, as in a
depressed crying out in time of great pain. Does such a scripture seem to fit with
the seasonal cheer around us? Believe it or not, this is always case of Advent to
focus on a scripture that makes pain and lament come to life. It is about as real,
genuine, and full of raw emotion as you get in the scriptures. The community
speaking here is one that is feeling abused, depressed, and down-trodden. They
feel as though God is ignoring them and maybe even taking the side of their
enemies. They feel cast aside and forgotten. And so, they sing this lament
together. All people in touch with reality have experienced and are aware of the
pain in the world. The psalmist reminds us of human frailty. This sets an
important tone for the hope to come here at Christmas. After all, the birth of the
Christ Child was not an excuse to decorate or give gifts. The birth of Christ was an
action on God’s part to give us hope. To show humanity that there is a possibility
for love and a different kind of Kingdom. Jesus came to wipe tears away and
change our reality. That is where we are headed this Christmas.

In our Old testament and gospel lessons the prophet and angel foretell the birth of
Emmanuel, God-with-us. The name “Emmanuel” (God with us) is more than a
nice name for a sweet baby. You might say that it frames the whole Gospel of
Matthew, that it tells the story of what God is about, and for the early Jewish
Christians it was especially clear that this gift of Jesus was meant to fulfill the
longing of their ancestors for all people, not just their own, to recognize God. Both
the biblical characters and we, can understand waiting, some days better than
others. The advantage we have over the biblical characters is that we have already
been assured of the Emmanuel part, God-with-us.

As a family, we have been through hard times, however, what has allowed our
family to survive and stay focused as best as we can is that, we know God is with
us. So, you ask, how in the world do you know God is with you? The answer is so
simple. We are surrounded by people who support us. We feel strength from the
people who pray for us. We are aware that people are God’s hands and feet, and
we are in no shortage of hands, feet and prayers. Does this continue to challenge
our family, as does waiting challenge others? Of course, Like anyone, we reach
the end of our ropes, we question, we get angry, frustrated and grumpy. But then
we realize and again feel the love and support of our church family, our friends and
our family.

Here at St. Augustine’s we receive new members into our congregation every time
and we make promises to them and their families that we accept them into our
family and support them. Through our hands and feet, these members and their
families can be assured that God is with them. We have a ministry to Worthington
Christian Village that visits the elderly people. This ministry, helps with prayers an
being a supportive presence to the community. Through hands and feet of the
Christians, these members of the village can be assured that God is with them.
There are also many people in this church that volunteer outside of the church
events that we have. Through their generosity of time and care, they are assuring
people that God is available to and with them.

As we are seven days away from Christmas, what should we be focusing on in our
lives? Should we be concerned about the waiting? Waiting is an on-going part of
our lives, we will always be waiting for something. Let us not worry so much
about waiting for the birth of a baby, let us, instead, celebrate the presence of God-
with-us. Let us also celebrate the possibilities of the way we can be God-with-us
to others.

I hope you feel the presence of God through others hands, feet and prayers; and
hope that you have the opportunity to be the hands, feet and pray for others. God
IS with us!

In the name of God the Father, the Son and the Holy Spirit Amen.

Advent Antiphons—December 18

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From The Book of Common Worship’s Times and Seasons (p.58).

These antiphons, or refrains, all beginning ‘O …’, were sung before and after the Magnificat at Vespers, according to the Roman use, on the seven days preceding Christmas Eve (17–23 December). They are addressed to God, calling for him to come as teacher and deliverer, with a tapestry of scriptural titles and pictures that describe his saving work in Christ. In the medieval rite of Salisbury Cathedral that was widely followed in England before the Reformation, the antiphons began on 16 December and there was an additional antiphon (‘O Virgin of virgins’) on 23 December; this is reflected in the Calendar of The Book of Common Prayer, where 16 December is designated O Sapientia (O Wisdom). The Common Worship Calendar has adopted the more widely used form. It is not known when and by whom the antiphons were composed, but they were already in use by the eighth century.

18 December – O Adonai

O Adonai, and leader of the House of Israel, who appeared to Moses in the fire of the burning bush and gave him the law on Sinai: Come and redeem us with an outstretched arm.

–cf Exodus 3.2; 24.12

Advent Antiphons

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An antiphon is (in traditional Western Christian liturgy) a short sentence sung or recited before or after a psalm or canticle. Today begins the Advent Antiphons. But what are the “O Antiphons”? Below is an excerpt from the Catholic Education Resource Center by Father William Saunders. I wholeheartedly commend their use each of these seven days.

The “O Antiphons” refer to the seven antiphons that are recited (or chanted) preceding the Magnificat [Song of Mary] during O-Antiphons_02Vespers [Evening Prayer] of the [Roman Catholic] Liturgy of the Hours. They cover the special period of Advent preparation known as the Octave before Christmas, Dec. 17-23, with Dec. 24 being Christmas Eve and Vespers for that evening being for the Christmas Vigil.

The exact origin of the “O Antiphons” is not known. Boethius (c. 480-524) made a slight reference to them, thereby suggesting their presence at that time. At the Benedictine abbey of Fleury (now Saint-Benoit-sur-Loire), these antiphons were recited by the abbot and other abbey leaders in descending rank, and then a gift was given to each member of the community. By the eighth century, they are in use in the liturgical celebrations in Rome. The usage of the “O Antiphons” was so prevalent in monasteries that the phrases, “Keep your O” and “The Great O Antiphons” were common parlance. One may thereby conclude that in some fashion the “O Antiphons” have been part of our liturgical tradition since the very early Church.

The importance of “O Antiphons” is twofold: Each one highlights a title for the Messiah: O SAPIENTIA (O Wisdom), O ADONAI (O Lord), O RADIX JESSE (O Root of Jesse), O CLAVIS DAVID (O Key of David), O ORIENS (O Rising Sun), O REX GENTIUM (O King of the Nations), and O EMMANUEL. Also, each one refers to the prophecy of Isaiah of the coming of the Messiah.

Read the whole article.

O Sapientia (O Wisdom)
O Wisdom, coming forth from the mouth of the Most High,
reaching from one end to the other mightily,
and sweetly ordering all things:
Come and teach us the way of prudence.

—cf. Ecclesiasticus 24.3; Wisdom 8.1 

Fleming Rutledge Muses on God’s Wrath

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The good Reverend gets it exactly right, as she usually does. See what you think.

It makes many people queasy nowadays to talk about the wrath of God, but there can be no turning away from this prominent biblical theme. Oppressed peoples from around the world have been empowered by the scriptural picture of a God who is angered by injustice and unrighteousness. If we are resistant to the idea of the wrath of God, we might pause to reflect the next time we are outraged about something—about our property values being threatened, or our children’s educational opportunities being limited, or our tax breaks being eliminated. All of us are capable of anger about something. God’s anger, however, is pure. It does not have the maintenance of privilege as its object but goes out on behalf of those who have no privileges. The wrath of God is not an emotion that flares up from time to time, as though God has temper tantrums. It is a way of describing his absolute enmity against all wrong and his coming to set matters right.

Read it all.

Deacon Terry Gatwood: Waiting

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Sermon delivered on Advent 3A, Sunday, December 11, 2016, at St. Augustine’s Anglican Church, Westerville, OH.

If you prefer to listen to the audio podcast of this sermon, click here.

Lectionary texts: Isaiah 35.1-10; The Magnificat (Luke 1.46-55), James 5.7-10; Matthew 11.2-11.

Grace to you, and peace, from God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ. Amen.

It was eleven years ago this week that I took a trip to New York City via Greyhound to complete a trip in honor of my Mamaw Shirley. She had passed away a few months before, and had never gotten to take her trip to Ellis Island to see where her grandparents had entered the United States. This trip was something that I could always remember her talking about, so I took it upon myself to complete the trip that year before heading off to my first naval assignment in Okinawa. It was an interesting trip for a reason that I think you will all understand.

New York is a busy place. Especially during the weeks between Thanksgiving and Christmas the city takes on a whole new pace as people are in a bigger rush than they normally are. We have to get this shopping done, and tie up these loose ends in our work, and see all these people that we’ve not seen all year, and rush, rush, rush. It’s enough to make your head spin.

But during these weeks of Advent, year after year after year, in the midst of all the busyness, rushing, and noise we hear a still, small voice repeat these words to us: be patient…endure…wait…have faith…be strengthened…you shall see…

These words are intended to calm our busied hearts, and recapture our focus back toward that which has the ultimate claim on us. They are meant to continue to feed us on the spiritual food that nourishes our souls, keeping us until the new Advent, when the Lord will again come, when the New Jerusalem will descend, and the Lord will be physically present again with his people on his earth.

But the noise competes for our attention. The checklist of things we must accomplish seems to grow by two every time we mark off one of our “to-do’s.” The stress is real, and it is palpable. But the voice of the Lord continues to speak to us from his holy Word: Be strong…do not fear.

On that trip to New York I was able to hear a sermon on patient endurance one Saturday evening at St. Lucy’s Church in the Bronx. And in that time worshipping with that body of believers it was peaceful and the Spirit of God relieved us of our fears, of our worries, of the feelings of stress that loomed over us. And then we left that place to rush around to the trains, and through traffic in busses, taxis, and cars, and scurried down the sidewalks to beat the rushes of people who would be coming out to do their shopping. The crush of the madness of fleeting time was still present in the neighborhood, and it pressed upon us all. The sun was setting, the light was going away, the frigid wind was like a dog gnawing on our faces, and it seemed to come from every which direction we would face. We just wanted to get to the part where we’re happy and light hearted, singing around a piano in the warmth of our homes, surrounded by family and friends, wearing hideous Christmas sweaters and drinking our eggnog with big goofy grins like in the movies. Except no one in my home plays the piano, and I’m generally goofy looking as it is.

Advent is a season of waiting, but really it’s the season when we may see our own impatience rising to the top. And we may not like it, but it’s still hard to shake. We have an expectation of joy, and we want it right now, much like when we were little children awaiting the opening of presents on Christmas day. It’s the waiting that is really hard for us children of God, because it’s in that time that we might begin to lose our sight of true joy. But God still whispers to us: be patient. I will come.

Israel had been waiting a long time for the promised Messiah to come. Some had come and claimed to be the Messiah, but the movements of those men never seemed to last very long. They would be put down, or just fizzle out. And so the people did everything they could to figure out when the Christ would come. They wanted out from under the oppression they lived with every day, and they wanted free right now.

In the village of Nazareth lived a young woman called Mary. She was one of the poor folks living in a poor town filled with folks who were seen as yokels. It was the kind of place one would ask, “can anything good come from that hole?”

Mary had been visited by an angel of the Lord, much in the same way Zachariah, John the Baptists father, had. In fulfillment of what the prophets had said, and for which they awaited, she was told that she would be with child, and that he would be the Son of God. He would be called Jesus, Yeshua, Yehoshua, Joshua, all the same name, meaning, “The Lord will save.” And when she visited Elizabeth, the mother of John the Baptist, the child in Elizabeth’s stomach leapt for joy at his coming. The promised Messiah, the one for whom Israel had been waiting, was now among them. And he did not coming like most would have expected; he entered the world in the most unlikely of places, being born to the most unlikely of people. And Mary sung her song, filled with the joy of the Lord, her son.

And now we fast-forward in the story of Jesus the Messiah, the one who has brought this joy into the life of Israel. We’ve heard recently of the ministry of John as he preached the coming of the Messiah, and baptized many in the Jordan River. He’s even baptized Jesus. But things have recently become very difficult for John. He’s been thrown into a prison cell. It’s not a very happy time for him. John, sitting in his cell, waiting for his coming death, sends some out to Jesus to ask him, “Are you the one who is to come?” Maybe this isn’t, and we have to keep on waiting.

And that’s the real question: Is Jesus the one I’m waiting for, or should I keep on looking? Is this the present I’ve been waiting for? Is this the party, is this the family reunion, is this the date I’ve been waiting for? Is this the job I really wanted? Is this really the house we wanted so desperately two years ago? Is this really the person I loved four years ago? Is this really the person I love now?

In Jesus Christ we find that gift, the promised gift, who brings true and lasting joy. We see that the lame have been made to walk, the blind have been made to see, the deaf to hear, and prisoners of oppression, of sin, are set free. We see true reconciliation between God and humanity, and take our cue to seek reconciliation with other people. The dead are raised, and good news is preached to the poor. The pattern of things has been reversed, and instead of going toward death we can move toward life.

And these things didn’t come in the way that they were expected. They came through the blessing of a poor young woman called Mary, living in a poor town, the oppressed of the oppressed. Jesus came among a bunch of people who did not have everything worked out. He came in the midst of the madness.

And in the midst of the madness of our own time he comes to us poor through the preaching of his Word, participation in the sacraments of the font and the table, and through the fellowship of the Church. The pressures and pulls of life, of the rush and the busyness are still present, sure. Some of us have gotten a lot of the things we’ve always waited and worked for. We might have the car, the house, the job, the stuff, but is that all there is? These things make us happy, but they might not last. People lose jobs, and homes. Cars wear out. The stuff breaks and ends up in the bin. And then the cycle of trying to get new things begins. And these things are usually good for us. But they’re only good for us if we aren’t looking to them to bring us the ultimate joy. That can only be found in the Christ.

And now we live on the other side of the first Advent. Christ has been crucified for us, making the sacrifice that enables our entrance into God’s kingdom. He has risen from the dead, and has ascended into heaven. So we wait again for the second Advent, his coming again in glory. We wait in the midst of broken things, and fleeting time. We wait in the midst of the rush.

Listen to what Jesus told John’s disciples when they asked that Advent question. Jesus said, “When you get me, the lame walk, the blind receive their sight, the dead are raised, the poor get good news.” What did all that mean? It meant that John’s disciples, who had already repented and turned around once, were going to have to repent and turn around again.

It meant that Jesus comes to reverse things. What was dead is now raised. What was blind now sees. What was lame now walks. When we get the gift of Jesus, our lives are changed. The sign that Jesus has come is that people are changed. And this brings us great joy.

This week we’ve lit the rose candle, a symbol of joy. We celebrate the joy of the promise of God being fulfilled in the coming of the Christ child, and a light of future hope in his coming again. We wait patiently, taking as our example the prophets, in our struggles and sufferings. For we know we haven’t merely gone out to see a reed swayed by the wind, or someone dressed to the nines telling us things that tickle our ears to gain our support in their quest for power. We’ve gone out to hear the Good News that Christ is coming again. We’ve gone out, maybe expecting one thing, but gaining something so much better: the salvation of our souls, and the unfolding promise of a renewed life. A life filled with patient endurance, and the joy of the knowledge of our salvation, and the God who graciously gives it to us wrapped up in the most beautiful of wrappings: swaddling cloths.

Hear this good news: Jesus Christ has come, and he is coming again. Strengthen your hearts, and be patient, serving the Lord and feeding on him in your hearts by faith, and with thanksgiving. For we might die before his coming, but we shall all someday see that land for which he is preparing us, the place from where we have come into being, that Garden of goodness where our ancestors once tread.

In the name of God: The Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Bishop Tom Wright: Advent Devotional Week 3

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Reflections on John’s Prologue

In the beginning was the Word…. And the Word became flesh, and tabernacled among us; and we gazed upon his glory.

John positively urges us in his prologue to see the whole of the story he will tell within the long reach of the first two books of the Bible. John, after all, focuses his story again and again on the Temple, on Jesus’ upstaging of the Temple, on his implicit warning to the Temple and its guardians, and on his final performance of that which the Temple itself could not effect.

What has that to do with Genesis and Exodus? Well, everything: because Genesis 1 and 2 describe, to anyone with first-century eyes, the construction of the ultimate Temple, the single heaven-and-earth reality, the one Cosmos within which the twin realities of God’s space and our space are held together in proper balance and mutual relation. The seven stages of creation are the seven stages of constructing a temple, into which the builder will come to take up residence, to take his ‘rest’: Here is Zion, my resting-place, says Israel’s God in the Psalms.

Within this Temple there is of course, as the final element of construction, the Image: the true Image through which the rest of creation sees and worships the creator, the true Image through which the sovereign and loving creator becomes present to, in and with his creation, working out his purposes. Genesis 1 declares that the God who made the world is the heaven-and-earth God, the working-through-humans-in-the-world God. (I wish there was a word for that; it might be easier in German; or perhaps we could take the Greek and speak not just of an anthropic God, a God who was appropriately bodied forth in human life, but a dianthropic God, a God who desired to express himself perfectly by working through humans in the world.) And already, with this vision of Genesis before us, we understand both the beginning and the climax of John’s gospel: in the beginning, en arche, bereshith: in the beginning was the Word . . . and the Word became flesh. And on the last Friday, the ultimate sixth day of the week, the representative of the world’s ruler declares ‘behold the Man’: like Caiaphas earlier, Pontius Pilate says far, far more than he knows, acknowledging that Jesus is the Proper Man, the true Image, the one at whom, when people gaze, they see the Father; the one through whom the Father is present, and powerfully working, to bring about his desire and design. And in the end, when the light has shone in the gathering darkness and the darkness has tried to extinguish it, the final word echoes Genesis once more: tetelestai, it is finished. The work is accomplished. There follows the rest of the seventh day, the rest in the tomb, before the first day of the new week when Mary Magdalene comes to the garden and discovers that new creation has begun. John is writing a new Genesis, and the death of Jesus places at the heart of this new heaven-and-earth reality the sign and symbol of the Image through which the world will see and recognise its Creator and know him as the God of unstoppable love, the sign and symbol of the Image through which the Creator has established that love at the climax of world history and as the fountain-head for the rivers of living water that will now flow out to refresh and renew his whole world. That is the primary story John is telling.

But if it is a new Genesis it is also a new Exodus. For years, when reading Exodus, I confess that I used to misjudge what Moses says repeatedly to Pharaoh: Let my people go, so that they may worship me in the desert. I used to think this was just an excuse: we want to go home to our promised land, but let’s just tell Pharaoh that we want to worship our God and that we can’t do it in his land, surrounded by his gods. But the whole logic of the book of Exodus, and indeed of the Pentateuch as a whole, forbids that interpretation. If you read Exodus at a run you will easily arrive at Mount Sinai in chapter 20; up to that point it’s a page-turner, one dramatic incident after another, but then suddenly the pace seems to slacken as we get miscellaneous rules and regulations, though not (to be honest) very many of them yet. Don’t stop there; forge ahead; because the whole narrative is indeed moving swiftly forward to the aim and object of the whole thing, which is the restoration of creation itself, the purpose for which God called Abraham and his family in the first place, the purpose through which heaven and earth will be joined together once more, only now in dramatic symbol and onward pointing sign. The giving of Torah itself is just a preparation; what matters is the Tabernacle. The Tabernacle is the microcosmos, the little world, the heaven-and-earth place, the mysterious, untameable, moving tent – or perhaps it is the world that moves, while the tent stays still? – in which the living God will come to dwell, to tabernacle, in the midst of his people, in the pillar of cloud by day and fire by night. The whole of the book of Exodus is itself moving towards this moment, in chapter 40, when the Tent is set up, constructed and decorated with the highest human artistry, which itself is part of the point, and the Divine Glory comes to dwell in it, so that even Moses couldn’t enter the Tent because of that glorious presence. Exodus 40 answers to Genesis 1 and 2: creation is renewed, heaven and earth are held together, the world itself is halted from its slide back towards chaos, and the people of God, tent-makers and tent-keepers and pilgrims wherever the glory-filled Tent will lead them, are to live the dangerous and challenging life of the people in whose midst there dwells, in strange humble sovereignty, the promise and hope for the whole of creation. (This is course is why Leviticus is where it is and what it is, with the priests as the humans who stand at the intersection of heaven and earth; but that’s another story.)

All of this and much more – think of Solomon’s Temple in 1 Kings 8, think of the vision in Isaiah 6 – is then poured by John into the dense and world-shaping reality of the Prologue as it reaches its climax. In the beginning was the Word; and the Word became flesh, and tabernacled among us; and we gazed upon his glory. We have been allowed where Moses was not. We have seen the glory, the heaven-and-earth reality, the human microcosmos, the Tent where the God of the Exodus is revealed as the One God of creation and new creation. The Exodus through which creation is rescued and renewed; the new creation which comes to birth on the eighth day after the dark power, the great and terrible Pharaoh, has been defeated once and for all. This is the story that John is telling.

Excerpt from an Address to Dallas Episcopal Clergy, 16 November 2016, by N.T. Wright