Christmas Eve/Day 2013 - Love is the Meaning of Christmas

         How difficult the time of Jesus’ birth must have been for Mary!  For Jesus, God-made-man, it could have been no easier.  Madeline L’Engle, writes about the nativity in a poem called “The Risk of Birth:”

That was no time for a child to be born,

In a land in the crushing grip of Rome;

Honor & truth were trampled by scorn –

Yet here did the Savior make his home.

         How can we find the meaning of the birth of our Savior in Bethlehem?  When we hear this familiar gospel story of Jesus’ birth, what do we think?  Kathleen Norris reflected on the familiarity we have with “the Christmas story”—especially this version from Luke: “We have many defenses against hearing the Christmas readings and taking them to heart.  The images are resoundingly familiar . . . and the nativity story is so colored by nostalgia that listening takes considerable effort.  It’s hard for us to remember that, as is always the case with scripture, we are continually invited to hear ‘a new song,’ words full of possibilities we have not yet seen and can’t imagine.  All we need are the ears to hear, but our tired old ears resist us at every turn.”

         Madeline L’Engle sees Jesus’ birth as God incarnate, God taking on human form, as “The Glorious Impossible.”  Here’s what she says about it, “What an amazing, what an impossible message the angel brought to a young girl! But Mary looked at the angel and said, 'Be it unto me according to your word.’

And so the life of Jesus began as it would end with the impossible.  When he was a grown man he would say to his disciples, ‘For human beings it is impossible.  For God nothing is impossible.’

Possible things are easy to believe.  The Glorious Impossibles are what bring joy to our heart, hope to our lives and songs to our lips.”

          Mary and Joseph had traveled quite a distance, Luke tells us, from Nazareth near the Sea of Galilee to Bethlehem a bit south of Jerusalem.  Her labor had begun in the midst of less than ideal accommodations.  The couple had to take what was available, and so a food trough for animals became the baby’s “cradle.”  Yet Mary wrapped him in “bands of cloth,” a lovingly maternal act in the midst of uncertainly—a lovingly maternal act to make the baby feel secure.

How were Mary and Joseph on this night of glorious impossibility?  Tired to the bone from their long journey?  Exhausted from laboring to birth Jesus?  Distracted a bit, wanting comfort, hoping for a bit of peace soon?

         Christina Rossetti described the moment of incarnation this way: “Love came down at Christmas, love all lovely, love divine; / love was born at Christmas: stars and angels gave the sign.”

The first evidence of the presence of God’s love can be seen in Mary’s care for her newborn.  Her heart was moved by love, because she knew the vulnerability of Jesus.  Our love for our children is always a sign of God’s love for humanity.

         But there was more.  Shepherds out in the night, guarding some sheep, had witnessed the glorious power of God in message of an angel:  “I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.  This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.”

The message given to the shepherds spoke to the hope for freedom from the oppression. For the shepherds, who lived at the bottom of the social structure of first century Palestine nothing could surpass receiving news of  “ a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.”  The Messiah found in Hebrew prophecy who will save God’s people—Jesus’ name means “God saves—promises liberation. The sign of that liberation from bondage—a baby, born in difficult circumstances, who is loved.

Madeline L’Engle describes God’s taking a risk to show God’s love for us:

When is the time for love to be born?

The inn is full on planet earth,

And by a comet the sky is torn –

Yet Love still takes the risk of birth.

         The shepherds told Mary and Joseph, and perhaps others nearby, what the angels had told them.  Luke reports that “all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them.”  How could this beloved, vulnerable baby, be a sign of the liberation for which many had hoped for centuries?  Can we believe that God’s love came to us that night in an unexpected way?  Can we trust that our salvation comes through love?

         W. H. Auden, the English poet, wrote these words about that holy night during the dreadful days of Britain’s suffering in 1941 and 1942:  “Remembering the stable where for once in our lives / Everything became a You and nothing was an It.”  For in that moment there was nothing but God’s glory, nothing but God’s love.  That stable was “thin place” where the barrier between God’s love and our humanity—our sinful humanity—was crossed.

         Mary’s response to the shepherd’s words was to treasure and ponder them.  Our response to the Jesus’ birth, God’s love becoming enfleshed in a human being, must be like Mary’s.  We must treasure what we have seen and heard about Jesus.  We must ponder what Christ’s life means for us.  Then we must become God’s heart and hands in the world. Wrap those who share our lives in bands of love.  Offer them the security of love through our words and actions.  Give love as Mary gave it, in whatever circumstances we find ourselves.

         The moment of incarnation, of God becoming one of us through Mary’s love:  truly this was a “glorious impossible!” Impossible to fully understand, this moment—seen through the eyes of faith—has the power to re-make our lives, “bring[ing] joy to our heart[s], hope to our lives and songs to our lips” and giving us the strength we need to love as Mary did.

        

 Madeline L’Engle, “The Risk of Birth – 1973” can be found on the internet by searching for it; “The Glorious Impossible,” Simon & Schuster, 1990. It’s still in print.

W. H. Auden, “For the Time Being:  A Christmas Oratorio” final section (hard back copies available on line)

Kathleen Norris quote:  The Christian Century, (December 13, 2005, p. 19.) Also available online.

The 4th Sunday of Advent - O Come Emmanuel!

Psalm 80 repeats this refrain:  "Restore us, O God of hosts, show the light of your countenance, and we shall be saved."  The psalmist was praying for a renewed relationship with God.

Advent gospel readings over the past three weeks have told us to keep awake in expectation of Christ's coming, to prepare for Christ by repenting our sins, and to recognize the deeds of Jesus as the inbreaking of God's holy reign.  Now we have the final Sunday of Advent and our readings shift from emphasizing our response to God to highlighting God's initiative in establishing a relationship with us.  The comfort for us this week rests in knowing that God is as interesting in having a relationship with us, as much as—or even more than—we are interested in having a relationship with God.

We may, as the psalmist did, pray for God to show us "the light of God's countenance."  In praying this we express our need for a clearer view of God, so we can be guided in making choices and in understanding what our lives are supposed to mean.

Isaiah expressed his feelings inadequacy when he had been called by God to be a prophet.  When he is finally able to say, “Here am I, send me,” he receives a frightening oracle about the destruction of Jerusalem. Yet he also receives a message of hope from God.

Isaiah relays the message that, despite the prophecy of destruction, King Ahaz must trust God to send a sign of hope.  But Ahaz cannot even manage to ask God to give him a sign.  Despite this lack of trust, a prophecy of hope did come to Ahaz through a child whose name, Emmanuel, means "God is with us."  God reached out to a reluctant Isaiah with a vision of God's power and glory.  God reached out to a stubborn Ahaz with a prophecy of hope.

How often are we facing a great challenge? It may involve our work or in our family or our health. Do we ask for a sign that God has not deserted us?  Truth be told, we often plow ahead, figuring that we'll have to manage the challenge without much help from anyone. Signs of God's presence may be subtle, usually more subtle than an oracle from a prophet.  But God does reach out to us to give us strength, patience, and hope.  How can we discern God's reaching out to us, God's calling us?

St. Paul considered himself "called" by God to be an apostle, sent to bring the story of Jesus Christ to those outside the Jewish faith. His “calling” experience consisted of being knocked to the ground, seeing the bright light of God presence, and hearing God's voice as he was traveling to Damascus to arrest Christians. Yet his understanding of what had happened continued to grow.  His discernment continued through conversations with Ananias of Damascus who baptized Paul.  Then Paul joined Jesus' disciples in Jerusalem for a period of time.  In these conversations Paul came to a deeper understanding of God's action in reaching out to him. As a result, he became a tireless preacher of the Gospel and founded many Christian congregations.  His words we heard today from his letter to Roman Christians explain how he now understands God's call to him and to those who will hear his letter read.

Unlike Paul's call, Joseph's calling came quietly through a dream.  His challenge was what to do about his betrothed Mary finding herself pregnant.  Should he shame her in front of the community?  Strict observance of the law would lead to her being stoned.  He must have loved her deeply, because he decided to handle the situation privately.

Yet God reached out to Joseph in a dream to call him to both trust and compassion beyond simple righteousness and to take Mary for his wife.  Matthew reminded the people who would hear and read his gospel that the promise of God's presence among us would come through this baby as it had in Isaiah's prophecy to King Ahaz.  Joseph's call from God asked for him to do more than even a good man might be expected to do.   Joseph understood and followed God's leading.

Our place on this fourth Sunday of Advent may not be all that different from King Ahaz or St. Paul or Joseph or the psalmist.  In the midst our challenges and troubles, we need God's presence.  We need to be prepared to receive what God wants us to hear and understand.  We need to be aware of how God may come to us--perhaps through some dramatic event or sign, but more likely in a quiet way through a conversation with someone or in our prayers or even in a dream.  God may be calling us beyond what we think is needed or what appears proper given the circumstances.  Above all, God will be asking us to trust that God's presence will continually support us with God's grace and love.  In the light of God's countenance we may rest secure, no matter how dark the night or how turbulent the storm of our lives.  God has promised to be with us, Emmanuel--O Come, O Come Emmanuel!

The 1st Sunday in Advent - Serenity About What Is To Come

On this first Sunday of Advent when I hear about the expected apocalypse in Matthew's gospel an indelible image comes to mind.  The Chapel of the Good Shepherd at General Seminary is very formal, but every once in a while students create "chapel pranks."  Creativity and keeping within a very broad boundary of good taste mark these pranks, which only take place at Evening Prayer.  I walked in one evening to see some clothing draped rather haphazardly across both student and faculty seating.  The faculty, who chose to attend this evening, processed in their cassocks, surplices, and academic hoods from the front of the chapel to their seats.  That's all as it should have been, but in their hands they held (given to them by students) boldly lettered signs saying, "Left Behind."  Muffled laughter arose from the seated students and staff.  Of course, that meant we students who attended that evening were also condemned to being "left behind."  Just a bunch of unprepared sinners, I guess!

Being prepared for God's revealing of God's self for the second time, probably at the end of time or at the beginning of a new age--or being unprepared--this theme colors our scripture readings in Advent.  But this concern may have little place in our thinking today.  We figure it's been over 2,000 years and may be quite a few more.  Most of us have no feelings of urgency about it. 
 
In fact, W. H. Auden, the poet, calls this time in which we live the "Time Being."  He writes, "In the meantime / There are bills to be paid, machines to keep in repair, / Irregular verbs to learn, the Time Being to redeem from insignificance."  Certainly St. Paul would agree, for in his letter to the Roman Christians he tells them to wake-up from sleep.  Only those who are alert can respond to God's call to them and make decisions to live life in such a way that important things take priority—that the Time Being is redeemed from insignificance.
 
Now Paul did believe that the apocalyptic second coming of Christ was quite near.  But whether near or far away in time, Paul's admonition would have been the same: ". . . put on the armor of light . . . live honorably as in the day."  For Paul darkness represented the power of sinful desires that pull us away from God.
 
For Auden our sin makes up part of the picture of our sorry state, but he also views us as actively working against being reflective about two important things:  first, who we are and, then, how our existence consists of more than just our daily tasks.  Not only do we lack urgency about this, we can also allow guilt about our sin repress the joy we might feel as we consider the mystery of God's incarnation as one of us--a human being.  We often feel unworthy of God’s love.
 
David Bartlett, a New Testament scholar, sees two temptations for us in our uncertainty concerning salvation history.  First, Christians may think that understanding all this is just an impossible situation. Then Bartlett says we may "fall into a state of perpetual apathy."  When we find our selves in this state of apathy, we may decide that what we do—or don’t do—matters very little.  On the other hand if we are constantly focused on the apocalypse, Bartlett thinks we will "fall into a state of perpetual anxiety."  We will focus on whether we are among the "saved" or not, often forgetting to address the needs of others with compassion.
 
As with many issues there is a middle ground here.  That middle ground consists of serenity about the future, trusting the words of Jesus that we cannot know when the Son of Man will come.  It also consists of remembering the cautionary story of Noah as an archetype of faithfulness to God's leading.  In this middle ground we also take comfort in the affirming message of Jesus' life, death and resurrection made present each Sunday in the Eucharist.
 
It means gathering with others in a community of hope--neither succumbing to apathy or anxiety.  In that community of hope we can care for each other and together respond to the needs of the world in God's name--while being alert for signs of God's reign of justice and peace, already begun, but not yet fulfilled.  Bartlett calls this "eschatologically sensitive serenity"—serenity about how it all ends.  In this community of hope—in a parish like St. Nicholas’, for example—we can received assurance that, in Bartlett's words, "we are God's people, and that the history in which we live [is] moving from God and [going] to God."
 
The words of Jesus are these: "Therefore, you must be ready. . ."  How can we accomplish this?  Let us make ourselves ready by caring for each other and responding to the needs we see around us.  Let us make ourselves ready through our individual efforts within this community to make it a community of hope, knowing, of course, that only through God's gracious blessing can our efforts be fruitful.  Stemming from God's love for us, may our attitude of serenity allow us to be ever alert for how God is moving in our lives and in the life of this community to help us grow more and more into Christ's likeness.  May we be ever alert for the dawning light of God's justice and peace.

• "For the Time Being: A Christmas Oratorio" in Collected Poems, 1976, p. 308.
• David Bartlett, "Pastoral Perspective" on Matthew 24: 36-44 in Feasting on the Word, Year A, Vol.1, p. 22-24.

Thanksgiving Eve - Giving Thanks in All Circumstances

As St. Paul ends his first letter to the Christian community in Corinth, he advises the folks who will hear this letter to hold certain attitudes and to act in certain ways.  Paul was concerned not only with how individuals should demonstrate that they follow Christ, but, more especially, how the Christian community can be kept strong.  My personal favorite comes in chapter 5, verses 12 & 13:  "Brothers and sisters, we ask you to respect those who are working with you, leading you, and instructing you. Think of them highly with love because of their work."  How does that work for you?

But for the purposes of this Thanksgiving Eve worship the essential verse is verse 18: "Give thanks in every situation because this is God's will for you in Christ Jesus."  Do we agree with Paul that it is God's will for us to give thanks in every situation where we might find ourselves?   The key word here is "in," found both in the Greek original and in English.

This year on Facebook a number of my "friends" are posting something they are thankful about each day for the month of November--noting, of course, the presence of Thanksgiving Day at the end of the month.  Most of the posts have been unfailingly positive statements: for friends, pets, blessings, a loving family, and so on.  I have not seen one that says something like this: my friend has just discovered she is fatally ill, and I give thanks I am able to accompany her through her last days, so she won't be alone.

Now such a statement might not be posted out of privacy concerns.  But if such concerns didn't exist, would such a statement as this come to mind as way to pray our thanksgiving to God IN a time where we are experiencing loss or lack of what we need?

Let's approach our question by considering the scriptures read tonight.  The 26^th chapter of Deuteronomy contains a description of worship when the first fruits of the harvest are brought to the priest to be set down before God's altar.  The person bringing the gift of first fruits must then recite an brief salvation history.  

Within this history, the worshipper recalls the time when the Israelites were enslaved in Egypt, suffering oppression through hard labor without compensation.  Now having been faithful to God, despite a few lapses, through their escape from Egypt and 40 years in the desert, the Israelites are poised to receive the land they understood as promised by God in God's covenant with their ancestors. 

Yet in this time of joyful anticipation, they are instructed to remember the bad times, for God was with them in those times as well.  Could "crying to the Lord" be considered a way of giving thanks--not FOR the circumstance of enslavement, but withIN those circumstances!  Could this be the sentiment? We thank you for being our God, and now consider our plight.  Help us! Help us!

That same kind of thanks can be seen in between the lines of the passage from the 6th chapter of John.  The crowd had followed him after Jesus had fed a crowd of 5,000 with only five barley loaves and two fish.  The people who chased Jesus to "the other side of the sea" appeared to have been impressed and grateful for the sign they witnessed.  But they wanted this miraculous moment to continue and to include them.  They begged Jesus, "What must we do to perform the works of God?”  Like when God provided manna in the wilderness? Their gratitude and their demand came in the context, I think, of experiencing emptiness, not only for food, but also for a connection to God.

Perhaps our expressions of gratitude often come with a plea for help or for something more.  Tradition tells us that the harvest meal shared by the Pilgrims and the Native Americans in 1621 came after a very difficult winter where many of the settlers died.  Fifty-three Pilgrims attended this traditional English harvest feast—out of 101 who sailed to the New World.  Ninety Native Americans joined them.  The Pilgrims who survived had endured through a winter with inadequate food.  More would have died without the assistance of the Wampanoag tribe members who shared food with them.  In addition, Squanto, a Patuxent Native American who had learned English from the settlers further south, translated for them and taught them to fish for eel and grow corn.  Could the prayers of those colonists during the winter with so much death been prayers of thanksgiving IN the midst of that great tragedy?  What might they have been thankful for?  For the Wampanoag food?  For Squanto?  For the folks who had shared this difficult journey with them, but had passed on?  For their own continued survival?

Prayers that give thanks IN the midst of loss or lack of what we need may be among the toughest prayers of all.  Perhaps they can only be prayed when we are actively hoping for relief, for better times.  Certainly they can only be prayed when we trust that God hears us in grief and pain, in loss and lack.  Ah, yes, in hope and in trust--these two facets of our lives in Christ make it possible to say prayers in difficult times.  Indeed, with hope and trust in our hearts, we can "give thanks in every situation because this is God's will for [us] in Christ Jesus."

The 26th Sunday after Pentecost - "By your endurance you will gain your souls"

Jesus had been sparing with the religious authorities in the precincts of the temple.  For example, last week we heard the Sadducees try to lay a theological trap for him in the question about a woman widowed seven times.  Now Jesus speaks to his disciples, but Luke tells us at the end of the previous chapter that "all the people" could hear him.

What does Jesus choose to talk about?  He chooses to speak about disasters--religious, political and natural.  Those who hope for safety will not find it in the days to come.  In the words we heard today, Jesus sounds very much like the prophets whose work populates the Hebrew Scriptures.  What seems secure now, what appears beautiful now, whoever occupies a place of authority now--none of these will last!  False prophets will try to lead faithful people astray. And you, my disciples, will experience betrayal and persecution because you follow me.

How many of us would have stayed on after hearing these uncomfortable and frightening words?  In fact the disciples were soon to face the reality of Judas' betraying Jesus and Jesus' arrest, trial, and crucifixion.  By the next chapter in Luke's gospel, Chapter 22, the final events in the story of Jesus' earthly life start to happen.  We know from the gospel accounts that most of the disciples fled in the face of possible arrest and worse.

As the season of Pentecost comes to its final Sundays the scholars who created the Revised Common Lectionary seemed determined to have us listen to prophecy that says everything will be coming unraveled and lives will never be the same again.

This scripture may be all too appropriate for us today. Our latest extreme natural disaster just happened a few days ago when the enormous typhoon hit the Philippines.  The images we see of the destruction there may remind us of the pictures from the Jersey coast after Hurricane Sandy last year, the tsunami that hit Japan and the huge earthquake that hit Haiti several years back.  How fragile our human structures are in the face of nature’s systems!

In the political arena there are signs of unraveling as well.  I saw some graphs this week showing how many wars were fought and are being fought both between countries and within countries between rival ethnic groups since 1946. The number of wars going on each year was an interesting fact, and the trend is sloping downward do since the early 1990s.  But what impressed me was that in no year did the graph hit zero--or even near it.

Jesus disciples and those listening to him asked this pertinent question: when will this beautiful temple made of enormous stone be utterly thrown down?  In other words, when should we be prepared for the end of life as we know it?  When should we be expecting the Messiah and the reign of God?  What Jesus described for them as he answered their questions depicted life as it was before Jesus' time, life in first century Palestine and life as it has been so ever since!

So what advice did Jesus give his disciples? What hope did he offer? And what did it mean for early Christians and for us?

He told them not to be led astray and think the end of time was near.  He said not to be terrified, although difficult times, including betrayals and persecutions, were ahead.  He advised them to trust God to be with them, so they should never give up.  His words: "By your endurance you will gain your souls."  Their endurance would be their response to God's faithfulness.

How interesting then that the Christian community in Thessalonica was torn between those who appeared to believe that the end of time was so near that working to support themselves and the community was a waste of time and those who believed they should continue to be industrious until Christ came again to reign.  St. Paul could not have been more firm in saying that one should not be idle waiting for Jesus to come again, giving himself as the prime example.  It had been several decades since Jesus' death, resurrection and ascension to the Godhead.  In the meantime "endurance" from Paul's perspective meant doing one's work quietly and earning one's own living.  To act in this way strengthened the community as well, since all who were able could contribute the welfare of those unable to work, including orphans and widows.

Over 2,000 years later and in the midst of all sorts of turmoil, how should we "endure"?  First, I think we must listen to Jesus' encouragement to trust that God will be with us through whatever trials come our way. We need not dwell in fear, but calmly find hope and confidence in God.  This isn't to say that all things will turn out the way we want them to.  Rather, it says that we can trust God's faithfulness in all circumstances!

Then once we have placed out trust in God or, as the words of our baptismal affirmation say, once we have "put our whole trust in [God's] grace and love," then St. Paul's wise advice can become an important guide for us.  Paul commands the Thessalonians--and all Christians throughout the ages: "Brothers and sisters, do not be weary in doing what is right."  Of course, at times, what seems right to you or what seems right to me may be different.  But if we do not become weary of finding common ground in most situations and acting from this new perspective, then our community will grow stronger.  We may well find our relationship with God strengthened, too.  And, finally, we may discover we have grown more and more into Christ's likeness, never to be the same again!

The 25th Sunday after Pentecost - Let's talk about "hope" today--

This morning's reading from St. Paul's 2nd letter to the Thessalonians has this phrase in the final sentence: " . . . may our Lord Jesus Christ himself and God our Father . . . give us good hope."  What is "good hope?"

 

Here are some of the lyrics from a hymn written by Edward Mote in the 19th century:

         My hope is built on nothing less

         than Jesus' blood and righteousness.

         I dare not trust the sweetest frame,

         but wholly lean on Jesus' name.

When Darkness veils his lovely face,

         I rest on his unchanging grace.

         In every high and stormy gale,

         my anchor holds within the veil.

When he shall come with trumpet sound,

         O may I then in him be found!

         Dressed in his righteousness alone,

         faultless to stand before the throne!

In the 13th chapter of I Corinthians Paul tells us the what abides in the end are faith, hope and love--thus describing "hope" as an essential characteristic of following Jesus.

My preaching professor—in justifying her assignment of speaking with only a notecard in our hand after just a half hour of preparation—said, "You must always be ready to speak of the hope that is within you."

It would seem that  "hope" is always a good thing.  Its opposite, "despair," pulls us away from hope, declaring hope useless. On the other hand, "hope" does not foolishly promise an easy time, as in "I'm just a hopeful person," meaning optimism should be a primary way of relating to the world.

"Hope" in theological terms implies a trust in God's faithfulness, even when times look very difficult.  There are two situations in today's readings that may help us understand "hope" in the sense of trusting God better.

Let's first look at the story of Job.  As all of us know, Job represents undeserved suffering.  As a righteous and prosperous man, he could not accept the condemnation of his friends.  He knew he had not committed a sin that caused him to lose his family, all his livestock and his health.

His hope was to simply to encounter God and question God's decision to let these disasters happen to him. The author of Job held the point of view, which Job held as well, that God is in charge of all that happens on earth.  Job doesn't hope for healing or restoration.  He simply wants to make his case before God--even after death, if necessary.  His hope is for justice from his Redeemer.

In the time of Job redeemers usually ransomed family members who had been enslaved for financial reasons.  Job just wants God to affirm his innocence!  Job declares with certainty that his Redeemer lives and will come to him directly.  An author, Lawrence Wood points out how outrageously Job is acting:  "Job has the temerity to imply that his redeemer is the Almighty God, the maker of heaven and earth."  Wood describes it as "breathtaking confidence."  I would call it "fierce hope" that displays a radical trust in God's faithfulness, despite immediate apparently contrary evidence.

We use this passage from Job as one of the opening sentences of the burial rite.  I think most folks assume it's referring to Jesus, because we call him our redeemer.  But, in fact, if we look at it from its original context in the Hebrew scriptures, we are claiming to cling to that same fierce hope of Job's, trusting God's faithful presence to sustain us in our grief and pain.

And now we turn to Luke's report of a face off between the Sadducees and Jesus.  Their question sounds hypocritical, even farcical, since they do not believe in resurrection.  Probably the situation described in their question is simply a hypothetical one to test Jesus. Yet apart from its legalistic tone, the situation of multiple deaths and marriages with childlessness through it all for the woman at that time could not be more tragic.  Were she more than just part of a question, her situation would be as tragic as Job's was.  She had done nothing to deserve a fate of being widowed seven times.  Her hope would have been, I imagine, to be able to put all that tragedy behind her and live eternally in God's love.  She no longer needs to be the property of a man and only defined by her inability to give her husband an heir. 

Since she is just a character in a question, she has no voice to share her hope with us.  But Jesus offers words that would most clearly express her hope when he describes "the God of Abraham, the god of Isaac, and the God of Jacob" with these words:  "Now he is not God of the dead, but of the living, for in him all of them are alive."  Surely, this is the hope for eternal life as beloved of God.

Our hope, our good hope (to use St. Paul's words), needs to be no different than Job's and the widow's: that God sees us as we are with whatever pain we bear and will offer us a place in God's glorious life for eternity.  This isn't because we are especially righteous or innocent.  However, we may claim our hope that God's faithfulness will supply the grace we need heal of us of our sins, comfort us in our moments of doubt, and gather us into the divine presence forever.

All Saints 2013 - A Meditative Reflection

Readings:  Ephesians 1: 11-23 and Luke 6: 20-31 (The Beatitudes)

From the letter to the Ephesians:

I pray that the God of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of glory, may give you a spirit of wisdom and revelation as you come to know him, so that, with the eyes of your heart enlightened, you may know what is the hope to which he has called you, what are the riches of his glorious inheritance among the saints, and what is the immeasurable greatness of his power for us who believe, according to the working of his great power.

Meditative Reflection:

We pray for the spirit of wisdom and of revelation:

·      The justice of the reign of God will come for the poor – may God’s mercy rest on us.

·      Abundance will come to those who are hungry – may God’s mercy rest on us.

·      Joy will come in the morning after a night of weeping – may God’s mercy rest on us.

When, O Holy One, when?  How long must we wait? Our forebears hoped, and we hope.  We hope for the end of hatred and of oppression: no striking others; no taking another’s possessions; no possessing many things without sharing what we have been given by you. 

But you made us free:  free, not only to hope, but to choose—and then to live into our choices.  Have we chosen to live with compassion?  Is that the hope to which you call us? 

No matter what the oppression, are you calling us to live freely?  Without concern for the outcome?  For you have promised a glorious inheritance.  Is this the outcome?

How does your great power work, your immeasurably great power?  Have our forebears suffered?  Have our forebears oppressed others?  Is what we experience a sign your economy, Holy One?  Or is there more than we understand?

How can we show compassion, when our nature seeks to control?  You created us, you have sustained us, and you love us—as you did our forbears.  Have us seek to care for others as you care for them—and for us.  Help us to love, to give, and then leave judgment to you.  May we share with others out of our riches.  May we offer to others out of our abundance. May we allow others to enter into our joy.

Enlighten the eyes of our hearts, Holy One, as you did our forebears, your saints, to see the needs around us—to listen for your whispered word—to discern your holy will.  Lead us, guide us, sustain us as we seek to follow even your most difficult command to love our enemies and do good to those who hate us.

We long today—and every day—to share in your glorious inheritance among the saints.  By your grace, through our faith, make us worthy to stand before you at the hour of our death and to live throughout eternal life in your glory.