For the mystery of lawlessness is already at work, but only until the one who now restrains it is removed. And then the lawless one will be revealed, whom the Lord Jesus will destroy with the breath of his mouth, annihilating him by the manifestation of his coming.
2 Thessalonians 2:7-8
On December 12, 2021, a friend of mine, the Rev. Nelson Rabell-González, was unjustly removed from his position as Pastor/Mission Developer of Misión Latina Luterana, a mission congregation in Stockton, California made up of Mexican immigrants, many of them migrant farm workers.
The bishop of the synod at the time made a number of false accusations against him and subsequently removed him from the clergy roster of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA).
The bishop brazenly chose to make the announcement at the church on the highest holy day of the Mexican calendar, the Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe, the patron saint of the Americas and Mexico. The image of the virgin is a national symbol of Mexico.
That set off a long drawn-out battle which ultimately vindicated Pastor Rabell and restored him to his post, while in a dramatic turn of events, the bishop resigned and was defrocked.
It took nearly two years but through the course of the struggle, many people were hurt by the false accusations and attacks against the pastor, his family, and his immigrant congregation. Even now, the pain is difficult to let go of.
Like the early Christian communities that the Apostle Paul established, immigrant communities of today are often targets of oppression and violence. They become easy prey, as this country witnessed this past summer with the false rumors of Haitian immigrants eating cats in Springfield, Ohio.
In this Advent season, as we await Christ’s coming again, let us be instruments of welcome and truth. And as we promise in our baptismal vows, let us “strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being.”
Let us pray.
Grant, O God, that your holy and life-giving Spirit may so move every human heart [and especially the hearts of the people of this land], that barriers which divide us may crumble, suspicions disappear, and hatreds cease; that our divisions being healed, we may live in justice and peace; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen..
Then I heard the voice of the Lord saying, “Whom shall I send, and who will go for us?”
And I said, “Here am I; send me!”
Isaiah 6:8
I began full time seminary study at the ripe young age of fifty-five when most people have begun to set their sights on retirement.
I had actually begun taking courses part-time about three years earlier, motivated by several pastor friends who knew of my theological curiosity.
I have told the story many times of how my parish pastor in East Cleveland, Ohio, was relentless in his insistence that I had the gifts for ministry, and how I repeatedly brushed it off by saying that I could serve God just as effectively as a lay person.
When I reflect on my reluctance to pursue a vocation in ministry, I admit that I had many doubts – even fears – about entering into the unknown. I had spent quite a bit of time around pastors. I was marginally aware of the numerous demands and challenges of the office. It was enough to make me put the idea out of my mind.
But chiefly I was more concerned that I had more than a few character flaws which, in my mind at least, made me less than qualified to lead God’s people. I didn’t want to be perceived as a fraud.
Nevertheless, despite all my anxieties and trepidations, God prevailed, as God usually does.
In many ways, my apprehension was quite similar to Isaiah’s: “I am a man of unclean lips, and I live among a people of unclean lips.” (Isaiah 6:5)
God, however, rejected Isaiah’s excuse and sent him to prophesy to God’s people.
Not all of us are called to become ordained clergy, but by virtue of our baptism, all of us have been called by God to specific ministry tasks.
As the church, the body of Christ, we are called to be a radical community here on earth. We are called and empowered to work on behalf of the hungry, the homeless, the poor, and oppressed.
The world needs to hear the message of salvation that God brings through us; to hear the word we have about our unity in the family of God, and about how God loves us and wants to help us be whole.
It needs the hope we offer, the food we share, the relationship with God into which we have entered.
We don’t all have to be Isaiah. There are many ways that we can care for others, and there are so many that need our care.
So ask yourself, what is God calling you to do as God’s people in your place of worship? In your neighborhood? In your community?
Perhaps God may be calling you to serve on the altar guild, as a lector, or chalice bearer. It could be to serve in one of the feeding ministries, or to donate food to a local hunger center. Some support the local schools by tutoring, or reading to children. The opportunities are only limited by the limits of one’s imagination.
Let us pray.
Everliving God, whose will it is that all should come to you through your Son Jesus Christ: Inspire our witness to him, that all may know the power of his forgiveness and the hope of his resurrection; who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.
(Book of Common Prayer, p. 816)
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Artwork: The Prophet Isaiah, (between 1726 and 1729) Giovanni Battista Tiepolo (1696–1770) The Web Gallery of Art (WGA)
Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances;
for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus for you.
1 Thessalonians 5:16-18
The above three verses from Paul’s first letter to the Thessalonians have been one of the anchor passages of my life and my ministry.
There’s a fourth element I add from Paul’s letter to the Philippians—Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. (Philippians 4:6)
It is human tendency to worry, to get ourselves stressed out, and frustrated. But none of that is going to solve anything. I would encourage you to make these words a daily practice of your life as well.
We may feel worn out by the needs of the world crying out from every corner of the globe: poverty, war, famine, genocide, disaster, homelessness, greed, and injustice; the political division of our nation. And we are never too far removed from a threat of a terrorist attack.
How do we begin to meet these overwhelming needs? Since we are not God, we cannot fix everything. We can only do what we are called to do by the Spirit.
The practice of rejoicing, prayer, and thanksgiving, helps us to develop an attitude of grace. Practicing a life of prayer “without ceasing” changes inconceivably the way we experience and interact with others.
How do we begin to meet these overwhelming needs? Since we are not God, we cannot fix everything.
Joy comes from a close and intimate relationship with God, who loves us enough to come to us in Jesus Christ, born in a stable reserved for animals. This is the joy that walks right up to trouble. This is the joy that is as present in the night as in the day. This is a joy undisturbed, and unceasing fountain bubbling up in the heart. Happiness may be in things, but joy is in us.
Do not despise the words of the prophets, St. Paul reminds us. This Advent, as always, may we be filled with their passion for justice and peace and with their courage and fearlessness as we too seek to witness to the Light.
Let us pray.
O heavenly Father, you have filled the world with beauty: Open our eyes to behold your gracious hand in all your works; that, rejoicing in your whole creation, we may learn to serve you with gladness; for the sake of him through whom all things were made, your Son Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
Then they will see ‘the Son of Man coming in a cloud’ with power and great glory.
Luke 21:27
On the first Sunday of Advent, we were standing in the narthex waiting for the procession to begin. As the organist began to play the first few introductory notes of the entrance hymn, our lector for the day turned to me and with great excitement said, “I’m going to have this hymn in my head all day today!”
She was referring to the well-known Advent hymn, “Lo! He Comes with Clouds Descending,” written by Charles Wesley, one of the most prolific hymn writers of all time, in 1758.
By the lector’s mere suggestion I was hooked. I found myself humming it into that evening and the next day. Whether the tune, or the text, it is one of those hymns that sticks with you. In popular slang, we call it an “earworm.”
The first verse of the hymn paints a majestic portrait of Jesus coming in the clouds, as the Gospel writer Luke depicts, “with power and great glory.”
Lo! he comes with clouds descending,
once for our salvation slain;
thousand, thousand saints attending
swell the triumph of his train:
Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!
Christ the Lord returns to reign.
Despite the fact that many scholars maintain that Christ’s return, as described in scripture, was intended to strike fear in the hearts of the wayward (and the third verse alludes to that), the opening verse of this hymn does quite the opposite. It fills one with anticipation and eagerness for that day.
Take about five minutes to listen to the choir of Trinity College in Cambridge sing the hymn in the video below. You can thank me later for getting your day started off on a joyful note.
Let us pray.
O God, whom saints and angels delight to worship in heaven: Be ever present with your servants who seek through art and music to perfect the praises offered by your people on earth; and grant to them even now glimpses of your beauty, and make them worthy at length to behold it unveiled for evermore; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
(Book of Common Prayer, p. 819)
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Artwork: Charles Wesley (1707-1788), Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons
In the tender compassion of our God the dawn from on high shall break upon us, To shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death, and to guide our feet into the way of peace.
Canticle 16, Book of Common Prayer, p. 92-93
This is the Second Sunday of Advent.
We light the second candle on the Advent wreath, the candle of Peace.
The Gospel reading introduces us to John the Baptist and will have more to say about John in the third Sunday as well.
But in our Episcopal lectionary, we also have the option of reading the Song of Zechariah, also known as “The Benedictus,” adapted from Luke 1:68-79.
We hear this canticle most often in Morning Prayer, and I can’t tell you how much I love this canticle. It has been a favorite of mine since I began the habit of Morning Prayer nearly twenty-five years ago. (It is sung or recited every day in my Lutheran tradition of the Daily Office, by the way.)
By way of background, Zechariah, John’s father, uttered these words eight days after the birth of John. It was the first time he had spoken in nine months. He had been rendered mute by the Angel Gabriel as punishment for not believing God’s messenger when told that his wife, Elizabeth, would have a baby, even though she was old and barren. So Zechariah had a lot to say!
It may seem somewhat strange that Zechariah would pay such a heavy price for his disbelief. But he was, after all, a priest. Perhaps God was holding him to a higher standard.
I imagine that Zechariah had been thinking long and hard about what he would say when he was finally able to open his mouth again. He would certainly think long and hard about questioning God or God’s intentions.
But frankly, who could blame Zechariah for his incredulity? What Gabriel was proposing seemed preposterous.
But now, at this time, given the opportunity to speak once more, he never utters one word of skepticism, but only praise for all God’s goodness.
“Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel,” Zechariah begins, “he has come to his people and set them free.”
He is grateful for being made an instrument of God’s plan of salvation for the world, and especially for the role that his son, John, will play in it – “the prophet of the Most High.”
So, more than merely announcing the birth of his son, John the Baptist, Zechariah’s song is a way to proclaim God’s faithfulness, God’s salvation, and God’s peace.
Again, it is a favorite of mine, and I would enthusiastically encourage you to make it your favorite as well, so that during this season of Advent, as we await the birth of the Savior of the world, you can pray together with Zechariah, “Blessed be the Lord, the God of Israel.”
Let us pray.
Almighty God our heavenly Father, guide the nations of the world into the way of justice and truth, and establish among them that peace which is the fruit of righteousness, that they may become the kingdom of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.
(Book of Common Prayer, p. 816)
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Artwork: “The Birth of John the Baptist” (1550), Jacopo Tintoretto (1519–1594), currently in the Hermitage, St. Petersburg.
But we do not want you to be uninformed, brothers and sisters, about those who have died, so that you may not grieve as others do who have no hope.
1 Thessalonians 4:13
No one ever really knows what to say to comfort someone whose loved one has died.
A lot of well-meaning statements often end up having the unintended opposite effect.
Oftentimes, the best response is to say nothing. One’s presence can frequently be more than enough.
However, for professional clergy, silence is hardly ever an option. So Paul’s words are a launching pad of sorts, for those of us who are expected to have answers at the ready when a person asks, “What will become of my loved one who has died?”
The early Christians struggled with the thought of what would happen to their loved ones who had died before the expected return of Christ, and Paul’s words to the Thessalonians were written to ease their fears and help them make sense of their grief.
Make no mistake, Paul isn’t attempting to minimize or dismiss their grief, but rather, to give them hope in the midst of their grief.
Those who have died in Christ are not lost, and nor will they in any way be denied entry into the coming life of God. We will be reunited with them, and together we will enjoy God and one another forever.
So, although it is normal to grieve being parted from them for now, the Apostle is reassuring them – and by extension, us – that there is no need to lose heart or lose our faith. All will be well.
The ultimate questions about life after death have not lessened through the years.
Whether a death is expected or whether it happens suddenly, we still grapple with the mystery of what happens to that person who was once our companion here on earth but is no longer with us.
When someone we love dies, there will always be a hole in our hearts. There’s an old saying that “the more we love, the more we grieve.”
Grief is a natural response to death.
At the same time, the grief of the believer is grounded in and defined by hope.
The ending of our second reading for this day tells us to “encourage one another with these words.”
We are encouraged with similar words each Sunday, following the sermon, when we recite together the Nicene Creed.
We end with the phrase, “We look for the resurrection of the dead, and the life of the world to come. Amen.”
May it ever be so.
Let us pray.
Father of all, we pray to you for those we love, but see no longer: Grant them your peace; let light perpetual shine upon them; and, in your loving wisdom and almighty power, work in them the good purpose of your perfect will; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
“Beware of the scribes, who like to walk around in long robes, and love to be greeted with respect in the marketplaces, and to have the best seats in the synagogues and places of honor at banquets. They devour widows’ houses and for the sake of appearance say long prayers.
Luke 20:46-47
I confess to feeling guilty when I read Jesus’ words criticizing the scribes “who like to walk around in long robes.” That’s because I’m also one who usually walks around in long robes.
Jesus is critical of the scribes because they take full advantage of the privileged status they hold and are pretty unscrupulous in their dealings with the vulnerable, whom they are called to care for.
But Jesus’ harsh commentary extends beyond the scribes to anyone who fails to be mindful, to be aware of the plight of the poor among us.
Our call as Christians is to address the issues of injustice and not to ignore it. It’s not only a matter of how much we give, but also about how we make our money.
You see, everything in our economic system generates wealth only at the expense of something or someone else. We exploit the resources of the world, especially of impoverished nations, in order to have our goods delivered to us cheaply, or to increase the profit margins.
I have some very principled friends who will not shop at Wal-Mart for that very reason. I admit that it is difficult not to go in, especially when you can buy something for a few dollars less than the name brand store down the street.
Understand, I am not saying don’t shop at Wal-Mart or any other discount store for that matter. But ponder this thought when you enter any place to shop: Where are their products manufactured? Does the employee earn a living wage? Do they have adequate benefits, such as health care?
You can expand these questions even further as they relate to your own material wealth.
Do you know where your retirement funds are invested or who they might be exploiting?
How we live and act, both individually and as congregations, is the kind of commitment to which Christ continually calls and recalls us, commitment not only of time and talent and treasure, but commitment of self, with a passion that becomes the power of Christ’s kingdom breaking into our lives in this time and in this place.
Let us pray.
Almighty and most merciful God, we remember before you all poor and neglected persons whom it would be easy for us to forget: the homeless and the destitute, the old and the sick, and all who have none to care for them. Help us to heal those who are broken in body or spirit, and to turn their sorrow into joy. Grant this, Father, for the love of your Son, who for our sake became poor, Jesus Christ our Lord.Amen.
(Book of Common Prayer, p. 826)
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Artwork: The Widow’s Mite, Paulus Lesire (1611–1654), Dordrechts Museum, The Netherlands
For this reason, when I could bear it no longer, I sent to find out about your faith; I was afraid that somehow the tempter had tempted you and that our labor had been in vain.
I Thessalonians 3:5
The letter to the Christians in Thessalonica is the earliest letter we have from Paul.
It’s believed to have been written before the year 50 of the common era to a church that Paul founded in what is now northern Greece. The Christians in Thessalonica, like others in the early church, believed that Christ would be returning soon. Yet here it was nearly 20 years after the resurrection and ascension of Jesus, and he hadn’t returned yet. So there was a certain level of anxiety as to when he would be coming.
Paul discusses Christ’s return quite a bit in this letter. I imagine, like many of those who predict the end of the world in our society today, Paul and the other of Jesus’ disciples had to do some backtracking when he didn’t come back as soon as they expected.
So this reading is a guide, more or less, as to how the Thessalonian Christians are to frame their daily tasks and responsibilities in a way that would ensure they would always be ready for his return. It also seeks to praise the Thessalonians for their faith and to encourage them to remain true even in the face of hardship.
It is human tendency to worry, to get ourselves stressed out, and frustrated to the point of quitting. And none of that is going to solve anything.
We may feel worn out by the needs of the world crying out from every corner of the globe: poverty, war, famine, genocide, disaster, homelessness, greed, and injustice; the political division of our nation.
Several years ago, I read a book by Rabbi Harold Kushner, entitled Who Needs God. I borrowed a quote from it which I’ve used several times. He writes that our faith is, “first and foremost a way of seeing. It can’t change the facts about the world we live in, but it can change the way we see those facts, and that in itself can often make a difference.”
No one can be sure exactly when the Second Coming will occur. But in the meantime, we keep moving. We keep working, and praying, and serving, and loving one another. Because who knows? Maybe the more we do, the greater the possibilities that God is able to do something through us.
Let us pray.
Heavenly Father, send your Holy Spirit into our hearts, to direct and rule us according to your will, to comfort us in all our afflictions, to defend us from all error, and to lead us into all truth; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen.
(Book of Common Prayer, p. 107)
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Photo: Christus Pantocrator – Artistic representation of Jesus Christ, Cathedral of Cefalù, Italy
He shall judge between the nations, and shall arbitrate for many peoples; they shall beat their swords into plowshares, and their spears into pruning hooks; nation shall not lift up sword against nation, neither shall they learn war any more.
Isaiah 2:4
We read the words of the prophet Isaiah in the context of war, conflicts and struggles all over the world: Ukraine, Russia, Israel, Gaza, Lebanon; not to mention in this nation, in our cities and neighborhoods, our homes and workplaces, and our relationships with one another.
The people of Israel, when they first heard this text, saw a world not much different from our own. More than 500 years before the time of Jesus, they listened to Isaiah’s vision of the future, and then they looked at their once-beautiful city, Jerusalem, burned and battered by powers that must have appeared unstoppable.
It is a story not limited to Israel’s experience, but is known throughout human history everywhere. It is a familiar story to us all.
The renown Old Testament scholar, Walter Brueggemann, has likened today’s beautiful passage from Isaiah to the “I have a dream” speech of Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. And like the world at the time of Dr. King, our reality on most days is a long way from either his vision, or Isaiah’s vision of peace, justice, and healing.
We hear this text not only in a time of conflict and war but in a new season at the beginning of a new church year: Advent, the time of waiting, and so much more.
The vision of swords being beaten into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks is a nice idea, but it is ridiculed by our experience of the everyday reality of the world. The sentiment of Isaiah’s beautiful verse is mocked by the cold hard reality of our own lives.
Perhaps, that’s where we need to start, by creating cultures of peace within us, and among us. What are the swords in our lives that we should be beating into plowshares? What are the spears that we brandish all too often that should be beaten into pruning hooks?
And there we see what our calling is: to model what the kingdom of God looks like, only when we can demonstrate what it means to live in that peace that others will see God – to make God fully present. To create those places where God’s grace and love can be known, those places where God’s justice can be lifted up, those places whence God’s instruction can go forth.
In this time of waiting, we know how it is we are supposed to wait: living out the reality that we expect to be fulfilled among us.
Let us pray.
O God, you have made of one blood all the peoples of the earth, and sent your blessed Son to preach peace to those who are far off and to those who are near: Grant that people everywhere may seek after you and find you, bring the nations into your fold, pour out your Spirit upon all flesh, and hasten the coming of your kingdom; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.
(Book of Common Prayer, p. 257)
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Photo: Bronze sculpture “Let Us Beat Swords into Ploughshares,” by Evgeniy Vuchetich, a gift to the United Nations by Russia in 1959
The stone that the builders rejected has become the cornerstone.
Luke 20:17
I don’t know whether you’ve ever noticed St. John’s cornerstone.
It’s located on the north side of the building, or to the left as you face the entrance, just to the left of the side entrance.
I thought it an unusual location, because cornerstones are normally more visible from the front of a building. Someday, I will research why it was placed there, but that isn’t the purpose of this reflection.
What’s the significance of a cornerstone?
According to architect Bill Whittaker, the cornerstone has three chief purposes: building orientation, history, and celebration.
It’s usually the first stone set in the building process and everything else is aligned to it.
St. John’s cornerstone, like many others, is hollowed out and contains a time capsule with historical documents and other artifacts.
In Luke’s Gospel, Jesus makes the point in his parable that he was rejected by those to whom he was sent. He was executed as a common criminal, but death did not have the last word.
His followers built their lives on the cornerstone that is Jesus, who modeled for them and for us a life of compassion, justice, and love.
Jesus is the foundation that strengthens our faith, and he invites us to walk in faith with him each day.
Let us pray.
Almighty God, you have built your Church upon the foundation of the apostles and prophets, Jesus Christ himself being the chief cornerstone: Grant us so to be joined together in unity of spirit by their teaching, that we may be made a holy temple acceptable to you; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen. (Book of Common Prayer, p. 230)
