My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord, my spirit rejoices in God my Savior;
(Canticle 15, Luke 1:46 Book of Common Prayer, p. 91)
This is the Fourth Sunday of Advent.
We light the fourth candle on the Advent wreath, the candle of Love.
Our focus is on Mary, the mother of Jesus.
Each Fourth Sunday of Advent, we also hear The Magnificat, the song of Mary beginning with the words: “My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord, my spirit rejoices in God my Savior.”
Mary’s song presents a radical, earth-shattering vision of the world made different. Mary insists that this powerful, merciful God isn’t merely an idea. This God is active in her current circumstances.
In this song, Mary’s vision moves quickly from the Lord showing favor to her, a lowly peasant, to the Lord upending the world as we know it, tearing down the powerful from their thrones, trashing the plans and schemes of the proud and wealthy, and lifting up the poor and hungry and crowning them with glory and honor.
this is the kind of song that tyrannical regimes go to great lengths to suppress to keep the peasants and workers from singing such subversive words.
Yet Mary did.
And the reason for her defiance, the reason for her boldness, the reason for her hope is rooted in those first two lines we hear”
“My soul proclaims the greatness of the Lord,
and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior.”
Mary interprets her present moment in light of who she understands God to be, in terms of God’s past history, God’s intentions, and God’s promises for the future.
In this way, she shows us how to speak about God in the here and now.
She recalls established convictions about God’s character.
And she imagines the possibility of God bringing a new future into being – not in a distant time, but beginning now, all around her, in her experience,
Perhaps by seeing Mary’s story as our own, we can embrace the sense that God is doing something new in us, and revealing God’s love to the world through each of us, individually and collectively.
When we proclaim the greatness of the Lord, we embrace the vision of the whole world remade in the image of God.
When our spirit rejoices in God, the world and everything we hold dear is turned upside down and shaken and reshaped to fit a world of justice where people shall live secure, where peace and hope and joy and love will be the models which we follow.
We are in a liturgical season of waiting – Advent.
We raise our voices in hope and expectation, waiting once more for the presence and comfort of the Lord.
Let us pray.
Holy One, whose coming we await, you invite us into the light of your presence: Illumine the dim places of our hearts. We are thirsty for your compassion. Draw near to us and fill us, that we may pour out your goodness to all who hunger. Amen.
(Daily Prayer for All Seasons, [New York: Church Publishing Incorporated, 2014] p. 14)
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Artwork: The Visitation, He Qi, used with kind permission. See more at www.heqiart.com.
Thomas said to him, “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life.
John 14:5-6
Today, the church commemorates Saint Thomas, the Apostle.
Our readings deviate from the daily lectionary, and the Gospel reading come from the Gospel according to John.
Practically all the information we have about Thomas is found in John’s Gospel.
There are three key pronouncements he makes which give us insights into his personality.
Before Jesus visited his friend Lazarus, over the disciples’ objections, Thomas said, “Let us also go, that we may die with him.” (John 11:16)
In our lectionary reading for this day, he asks Jesus, “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” (see above)
But Thomas is perhaps best known unfairly as “Doubting Thomas” because of he doubted Jesus’ resurrection, which led to his confession of faith, “My Lord and my God!” (John 20:28)
In Philip Pfatteicher’s New Book of Festivals and Commemorations contains a portion of a sermon by Lutheran Pastor (and Danish playwright) Kaj Munk, who was martyred for his stand against Nazi Germany. Munk writes:
And now, this Gospel is for you, my Christian friend, who struggles with doubt and faith, with anxiety and denial. This is the Gospel that does not come to catechize you and force upon you certain dogmas, or to condemn you, but comes only to listen to the heartbeat of your soul. If it leans toward Jesus no matter what happens it has chosen Him and wants to belong to Him, then the Gospel says to you: Be faithful, continue in the faith. It is great to have assurance of faith, but perhaps you do not belong to those who can always take this for granted. However, the Master is also able to use the Thomas type. Such people have a place in His group of disciples. And let me tell you that when the time is at hand, Jesus himself will come and bring an end to your uncertainty and your timid spirit. You will understand that it is not what you fail to understand that matters. Christ has had disciples who did not understand many things. Do not just stare blindly at them. Let not the devil fool you into thinking that unless you understand these things, you cannot be a disciple of Christ.
(Pfatteicher, p. 618)
Tradition tells us that Thomas traveled to India as a missionary, where he also was martyred.
Let us pray.
Everliving God, who strengthened your apostle Thomas with firm and certain faith in your Son’s resurrection: Grant us so perfectly and without doubt to believe in Jesus Christ, our Lord and our God, that our faith may never be found wanting in your sight; through him who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.
(Lesser Feasts and Fasts, p. 569)
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Artwork: St. Thomas, from Rubens’ Twelve Apostles Series. Peter Paul Rubens – Museo del Prado
When John heard in prison what the Messiah was doing, he sent word by his disciples and said to him, “Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?”
Matthew 11:2-3
The haunting question from John the Baptist immediately calls to mind Search Committees everywhere who are interviewing candidates for an open clergy position.
“Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?”
While John’s question may not immediately be on the lips of the members of those committees, it will certainly cross their minds a time or two, as they engage in conversation with those candidates.
“Are you the one who is to come, or are we to wait for another?”
It’s a question brimming with expectation, not only by the Search Committee members, but with all members of a congregation as they anticipate that day when the search ends and the new clergy person steps into their pulpit.
It’s safe to say that Jesus was far from John’s vision of how the Messiah would come, how he would behave, what the Messiah would do when he arrived on the scene.
The Messiah was supposed to come out all fire and brimstone, but he seemed to come out more for peace, love, and reconciliation.
It was all a big disappointment for John.
And it raises another possible doubt within us. Might we, like John, not only be asking the question of a new priest, but also asking the same question of Jesus?
There are many of us whose expectations are still unfulfilled.
We go through this same routine year after year.
But after all this time of waiting for things to get better – they just aren’t.
All of us, at one time or another, have been disappointed by a Messiah who didn’t live up to our expectations.
Perhaps, then, we might ask ourselves, do we detect God only when God is surrounded by stained-glass windows and organ music, or can we see God outside of the church and in our everyday lives?
As we smile at the cute, cuddly little baby in a manger this Christmas, let us not forget that he grows into a demanding and challenging adult whom we can’t ignore if we’re serious about our relationship with God.
We are residents of God’s kingdom, living in a world where God has come to us in human form.
As a result, we are charged with the holy responsibility of continuing to spread the good news, to come alongside the weak ones and hurting ones and to point them to a better day, to share in the mission of Jesus to do that saving, healing work of God.
Let us pray.
God of hope, you call us home from the exile of selfish oppression to the freedom of justice, the balm of healing, and the joy of sharing. Make us strong to join you in your holy work, as friends of strangers and victims, companions of those whom others shun, and as the happiness of those whose hearts are broken. We make our prayer through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
(Revised Common Lectionary Prayers, [Minneapolis: Fortress Press, 2002], p. 32.)
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Artwork: Giovanni di Paolo, “St. John the Baptist in Prison Visited by Two Disciples,” ca. 1455-1460 (photo: Public Domain)
To whom will you flee for help, and where will you leave your wealth, so as not to crouch among the prisoners or fall among the slain?
Isaiah 10:3b-4
Gustavo Gutiérrez, who died this past October at the age of 96, was known as the “father of liberation theology.”
Liberation theology emphasizes that God has a preferential option for the poor and oppressed of the earth, and is preoccupied with the elimination of the immediate causes of poverty and injustice.
In 1971 Gutiérrez wrote his seminal work, A Theology of Liberation, considered one of the most influential books of the last century. It outlines a vision for change in the structures that created massive inequities between the rich and poor in Latin America.
The book wasn’t without its critics, however. Some within the Catholic Church, such as the late Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger (later Pope Benedict XVI), criticized the movement for what he perceived as excessive politicization and alignment with communist ideologies.
But liberation theology is nothing new. The term may be different, but Gutiérrez was merely acting on what scripture has been calling people of faith to do for centuries, to care for the poor and vulnerable.
Throughout the Old Testament God reminds the children of Israel to care for the widow, the orphan, and the stranger – the “triad of vulnerability,” to use the description of Old Testament scholar Walter Brueggemann.
Over time, however, as the Israelites became more affluent, they forgot the teachings of God and exercised their privilege in ways that were contrary to what the Lord had taught them.
Today’s reading from Isaiah criticizes the leaders of Israel for their social injustice and oppression of the poor, highlighting the importance of ethical behavior. John the Baptist in the Gospel lessons over the past several days has been saying pretty much the same thing.
Jesus also came into this world as a vulnerable little baby, born in conditions of abject poverty, in a stable where animals dwell.
Nevertheless we have sanitized these circumstances into a mere image on a greeting card that diminishes the message and decreases the despair.
This Advent/Christmas season, may the memory of Gustavo Gutiérrez help us remember that the most vulnerable people are our greatest responsibility.
The struggle for justice and peace calls for each one of us to do our part.
Let us pray.
Look with pity, O heavenly Father, upon the people in this land who live with injustice, terror, disease, and death as their constant companions. Have mercy upon us. Help us to eliminate our cruelty to these our neighbors. Strengthen those who spend their lives establishing equal protection of the law and equal opportunities for all. And grant that every one of us may enjoy a fair portion of the riches of this land; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
John the baptizer appeared in the wilderness, proclaiming a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins.
Mark 1:4
For Christians, the birth of Christ is a very important and special event.
But it should be pointed out that only the Gospels of Matthew and Luke provide us with details about Jesus’ birth.
In contrast, there are at least six books that talk about Jesus’ baptism – all four Gospels and Acts and Romans.
So in scriptures at least, it would seem that Jesus’ baptism is a more important event than his birth.
That should be a clue for us that perhaps we should not only give greater emphasis to Jesus’ baptism but also our own baptisms.
I am sure that all of us remember the date of our birthday, but very few of us remember the date of our baptism.
Today’s reading from the Gospel of Mark comes just before John’s baptism of Jesus, which is where the story of Jesus begins for Mark.
Likewise, it should be the same for us.
Our baptism is our second birth. I would argue that it is equally if not more important than our physical birth date.
In Baptism God graciously gives us an identity. We are given status in God’s family, and bestowed with life that never ends, even when our physical life runs out.
The Catechism in the Book of Common Prayer (page 858) makes the following points:
In Holy Baptism God adopts us as his children.
We are made members of Christ’s Body, the Church.
We inherit the kingdom of God.
Our sins are forgiven.
We have new life in the Holy Spirit.
Our baptism doesn’t have a shelf life – it never wears out, never expires, never fades.
We never need to be rebaptized even if we leave the church for a long time. God never forgets who we are and whose we are, even when we do.
At the same time, we are always somewhat of a work in progress.
The Spirit continues to work on us and in us in every moment, changing us daily into the people we are called to be.
Even though our focus in Advent is the anticipation of Christ’s coming again, we rejoice that he has already given us these precious gifts.
Every time we return to the baptismal waters we return to that first day of light, love, life, and the promise of all that might be.
Let us pray.
Father in heaven, who at the baptism of Jesus in the River Jordan proclaimed him your beloved Son and anointed him with the Holy Spirit: Grant that all who are baptized into his Name may keep the covenant they have made, and boldly confess him as Lord and Savior; who with you and the Holy Spirit lives and reigns, one God, in glory everlasting. Amen.
(Book of Common Prayer, p. 214)
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Artwork: “John Baptizes Jesus,” Jesus Mafa Community, Cameroon, Africa
The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light;
those who lived in a land of deep darkness— on them light has shined.
Luke 22:34
Those who live in a rural area perhaps are more familiar with dark nights.
But those who live in an urban area cannot fully appreciate the wonder of a dark night.
It is not until you are able to be free from the city, free from the suburban sprawl, free from the highways and the shopping malls and the gas stations, that you are able to experience the wonder of a dark night, and the sky with its dome of stars; a night which is not tainted with the orange glow of streetlights and neon store signs and flood lights and so on.
So we have to make do with the image burned into our brain.
The relationship between darkness and light is somewhat ironic. You cannot really appreciate the glory of light until you’ve also traveled into the midst of darkness.
You cannot see the light of the star until first experiencing the darkness of an empty sky.
In our world where the glare of artificial lights pollutes the night, it is hard to understand the drama and the quiet and the power of real darkness.
Those who have grown up in the church are familiar with the words of the prophet Isaiah.
They are read at least once or twice each year during the season of Advent and Christmas.
They were originally written in about 700 B.C. when the Assyrian armies had conquered the Kingdom of Israel and Jerusalem was under siege.
This bit of history is important not only because we hear the Isaiah passage so often this time of year, but also to establish the Biblical meaning of darkness.
It wasn’t until the late sixteenth century that darkness began being used figuratively in a negative way with the beginnings of British colonialism in Africa. And today, the misuse of the term has come to represent evil, leading to the fear and devaluing of darker-skinned people, and thus creating biases that negatively impact human interaction.
Words matter. Metaphors matter.
We need not fear the darkness, but rather embrace it as the harbinger of hope.
The light that pierces the darkness has created a new spirit of hope and a promise worth following.
It is a human connection with the divine, which comes in the darkness of our need and our empty places. And because it touches us and fills us, it takes on the property of light.
This light has the power to transform, to change people.
As we prepare for the coming of the light of Christ one more time in our world, as we have for two thousand years, we are reminded that Jesus was born in the darkness of Mary’s womb.
Jesus came into the world as a light out of darkness and into deep darkness.
Led by a light, the shepherds and others came to his presence, and were transformed. There they saw reflected the very light of God—God with us.
The light that shines within each one of us.
Let us pray.
Look down, O Lord, from your heavenly throne, and illumine this night with your celestial brightness; that by night as by day your people may glorify your holy Name; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
(Book of Common Prayer, p. 133)
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Artwork: “Starry Night Over the Rhône,” Vincent Van Gogh, depicts an unpolluted night sky over Arles, France in 1888. [Credit: Musée d’Orsay / Public Domain]
“Father, if you are willing, remove this cup from me; yet, not my will but yours be done.”
Luke 22:42
This Gospel reading from Luke, which takes place as Jesus is about to be arrested, seems an odd choice for Advent.
Yet that is the way the daily lectionary falls.
But the point here is that in this moment of agony for Jesus we find him in prayer.
It is not an unusual occurrence in the gospels to find Jesus praying.
On several occasions all the gospel writers tell us of Jesus going off early in the morning, while it was still dark, to some quiet, isolated place, to pray.
Before beginning his day, before every major decision, such as before he selected his disciples, Jesus prayed.
And what this particular reading tells us is that even in times of great anguish, Jesus never lost trust in his heavenly Father.
Jesus knew that it was his last day. He knew that his hour had come to leave this world and go to the Father. He knew Judas was about to betray him. He knew that he would be arrested, tried, and condemned to die.
Jesus knew that he had come from God and was going to God. He knew!
Prayer is central to our lives, both individually and as a community of faith.
But the world does not encourage us to tend to our inner spiritual life, in fact, it does everything it can to distract us from such efforts.
One of my favorites quotes is from the famed Swiss theologian, Karl Barth, who grounded his theology in the practice of prayer.
He is quoted as saying: “To clasp the hands in prayer is the beginning of an uprising against the disorder of the world.”
When we ask God in prayer to show us the paths, the ways, the truth of God; we must be reminded that those ways are not easy, even for modern, apparently comfortable Christians.
The work of God does not begin in us, but in God.
God is the one who must provide all that is needed.
God is the one whose power we seek and find when we pray.
God is the one whose power motivates and strengthens us.
From the church perspective, the blessed Martin Luther said: Prayer is the breath of the church. It keeps us alive and moving, and without it we quickly choke and die and all our good intentions die with us.
So, this Advent is a good time to begin or rekindle the practice of prayer.
And as we learn to trust God, may we begin to see things from God’s perspective.
Let us pray.
O God, by whom the meek are guided in judgment, and light rises up in darkness for the godly: Grant us, in all our doubts and uncertainties, the grace to ask what you would have us to do, that the Spirit of wisdom may save us from all false choices, and that in your light we may see light, and in your straight path may not stumble; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
(Book of Common Prayer, p. 832)
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Artwork: Jesus Christ prays to the Father in the Garden of Gethsemane in the evening oil painting. By Vladyslav Tykhonov
Cry aloud, inhabitants of Zion, ring out your joy, for the great one in the midst of you is the Holy One of Israel.
(Canticle 9, Book of Common Prayer, p. 86)
This is the Third Sunday of Advent.
We light the third candle on the Advent wreath, the candle of Joy.
A keen observer will note that the readings for this third Sunday (as well as last week, I might add) are missing a psalm. Instead, we hear from the prophet Isaiah. This particular selection of Isaiah sounds very much like a psalm, regardless of its location.
Another observation can be made that the Isaiah selection sounds like an echo of the Old Testament reading from Zephaniah.
Though the two prophets were born a century apart, the theme which binds them together is “joy.” Despite the challenging circumstances in which the people of Israel found themselves, both prophets speak in hopeful, joyful tones.
We also tie in the Apostle Paul’s letter to the Philippians that begins with the resounding exclamation to “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say rejoice!”
The congregation at Philippi was also going through some turmoil, and Paul himself wrote these words while he was in jail.
All these urgings to be joyful in light of seemingly negative circumstances might sound insincere, as if Paul and the prophets are unrealistically looking at life through rose colored glasses. One could certainly argue rather convincingly that the critical social, economic, and political situations in which we find ourselves give us little reason or hope to think otherwise. We feel vulnerable, overwhelmed, depressed, and oppressed.
However, the Jewish Holocaust survivor, Victor Frankl, writing from the German concentration camps, affirmed that if you have a “why,” or a reason for living, you can respond to any situation with courage and grace.
And here is our “why”:
This third Sunday of Advent, we know someone is coming. Jesus is coming and we are filled with joy. That joy has nothing to do with our circumstances. We can have joy in spite of them.
Joy is the most reliable sign of the presence of God.
When we remember that our lives and futures are already secure in God’s hand, we have a hope that nobody can take away from us!
As a result, we can rejoice.
Let us pray.
Stir up your power, O Lord, and with great might come among us; and, because we are sorely hindered by our sins, let your bountiful grace and mercy speedily help and deliver us; through Jesus Christ our Lord, to whom, with you and the Holy Spirit, be honor and glory, now and for ever. Amen.
Jesus said, “I tell you, Peter, the cock will not crow this day, until you have denied three times that you know me.”
Luke 22:34
We love to pick on Peter.
He is such an easy target.
In today’s reading from Luke, he boasts that he is ready to follow Jesus to prison and even to death before Jesus bluntly proceeds to remove Peter’s foot from his mouth (see verse above).
Peter has leadership qualities, without a doubt. But his leadership is lacking a sense of direction.
And perhaps worst of all, he proudly believed he was immunized against all unfaithfulness to Jesus.
It doesn’t matter which of the gospels one reads, he is portrayed as impulsive, but fallible, and flawed – like all of us.
It’s been said that if we were to look in a mirror hard enough, we would see Peter staring back at us.
The choice of Peter demonstrates how the Lord works through the weak realities of this world. Despite the fact that Peter did go on to deny Jesus three times, Jesus brought Peter back from shame to lead his church.
Peter stands for every Christian – a community of common sinners in the process of being loved into being and truth by the living God.
You and I have denied Jesus multiple times in our lives. Our faith fails us, yet Jesus shows again and again complete confidence in all of us.
We cannot do anything without Jesus. Neither can we truly care for ourselves even though we work very hard to establish our lives on our own as well as to maintain them.
That is what we are as the church – a community of imperfect people, forgiven and loved by God, and sent into the world to make the Lord’s rescuing and sustaining actions available to all people, to be a reflection of Christ’s redeeming love.
Let us pray.
Almighty God, Father of all mercies, we your unworthy servants give you humble thanks for all your goodness and loving-kindness to us and to all whom you have made. We bless you for our creation, preservation, and all the blessings of this life; but above all for your immeasurable love in the redemption of the world by our Lord Jesus Christ; for the means of grace, and for the hope of glory. And, we pray, give us such an awareness of your mercies, that with truly thankful hearts we may show forth your praise, not only with our lips, but in our lives, by giving up our selves to your service, and by walking before you in holiness and righteousness all our days; through Jesus Christ our Lord, to whom, with you and the Holy Spirit, be honor and glory throughout all ages. Amen.
(Book of Common Prayer, p. 101)
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Artwork: The Denial of St Peter, Theodoor Rombouts (1597–1637), LIECHTENSTEIN. The Princely Collections, Vaduz–Vienna
Therefore the Lord himself will give you a sign. Look, the young woman is with child and shall bear a son, and shall name him Immanuel.
Isaiah 7:14
When I was in college, I had the good fortune of being a part of two performances of George Friedrich Handel’s Messiah. It is considered the greatest choral work of all time.
Our college choir performed it every three years as our winter concert, and luckily, my freshman year was one of those times. Therefore, when Senior year rolled around, I got to sing in it again.
As a result, I’ve developed the habit that now, every Advent, throughout the entire season, I listen incessantly to Messiah.
I have several recorded versions on my phone and there’s nothing I love more than a long trip in December to be able to listen uninterruptedly to extended portions of the oratorio in my car.
My wife and I make it a point to see one performance each year.
Messiah is best known for its signature anthem, the “Hallelujah” chorus.
But the entire oratorio is based on scripture.
The scripture verses were compiled by Charles Jennens, a friend of Handel’s and patron of the arts.
Handel wrote Messiah in 1741, completing the entire work in just twenty-four days! “I did think I did see all Heaven before me, and the great God Himself seated on His throne, with His company of Angels,” Handel has been quoted as saying.
The verse from Isaiah cited at the top begins one of the pieces. Anytime I read such a verse I find myself singing that portion of the oratorio.
I recently read an essay by a Dominican nun from England which best explains why such a work of art like Messiah sticks with us. Sister Carino Hodder, OP, writes:
“Music shapes the memory, and memory shapes the person. Advent is when we remember that God came to earth as a tiny child, and will come again in glory at the end of the ages; it is the time when I remember that his coming in between, his coming to abide in each human heart and human memory, is a coming no less mysterious and unexpected.”
Hopefully the closing piece of music will inspire you this Advent to recall why we celebrate the birth of our Savior and its significance in our life.
Let us pray.
Eternal Father, you gave to your incarnate Son the holy name of Jesus to be the sign of our salvation: Plant in every heart, we pray, the love of him who is the Savior of the world, our Lord Jesus Christ; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, in glory everlasting. Amen.
(Book of Common Prayer, p. 213)
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Artwork: George Frideric Handel, oil on canvas by Thomas Hudson, 1756; in the National Portrait Gallery, London.
