Sunday, November 27, 2016

Advent 1, Year A (2016)

Advent I :: Isaiah 2: 1–5; Psalm 122; Romans 13: 11–14; Matthew 24: 36-44
This is a homily by Fr. Gene Tucker, delivered at St. John's in Huntingdon, Pennsylvania on Sunday, November 27, 2016.
“WHAT TIME IS IT?”
(Homily texts: Romans 13: 11-14 & Matthew 24: 36-44)
The season of Advent, which begins today, urges us to ask ourselves this question:  “What time is it?”
Traditionally, Advent supplies us with three answers to this question:
  1. We look back to the time of Jesus’ birth, remembering God’s great gift of love as seen in His coming.
  2. We look forward to the time when the Lord will come back again, this time in power and great glory.
  3. We look at the time of our lives in this day and age, seeking God’s wisdom to know how to live faithfully in the wake of the Lord’s first coming, and in expectation of the Lord’s coming again.

These three times deserve a closer look.
“What time is it?” The Lord’s coming in His birth in Bethlehem changed world history forever. The course of human history would have been radically different, it seems to me, without Jesus Christ’s example of a perfect life, His wonderful teachings, and the demonstration of God’s power over every evil and every enemy, even our final enemy, which is death. Jesus’ disciples went out into the world, equipped with this message, and the world was changed forever in direct relation to their testimony.
“What time is it?”  We await the Lord’s return in the fullness of time. That is to say, in God’s good time. But no one, the Lord reminds us in today’s Gospel reading, knows the time nor the hour of His return. But what we await is God’s undeniable demonstration of power over every other power in the world. That is the essential bottom line of the meaning of Jesus Christ’s eventual return, for this is the time when “Every knee shall bow and every tongue confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.” (Philippians 2: 11)
“What time is it?”  In between the Lord’s first coming and His second coming, we find ourselves living in the wake of the importance of His first coming, knowing that the things we do in our day and in our time and in our lives is being done under the gaze of God the Father, who will ask us to give an account of our faithfulness as we seek to be disciples of Jesus Christ.
So, “What time is it?” really? It is time to wake up, as St. Paul reminds us in our epistle reading from Romans. It is time to see God’s great, big picture, God’s great, big plan in the sending of Jesus Christ into the world, and in Jesus Christ’s coming again. It is time to see that God has folded us into that great, big picture, giving us a purpose and a high calling to be Jesus’ disciples in the world we live in.
May we be faithful followers, until the time that He comes again.

AMEN.

Sunday, November 20, 2016

The Last Sunday after Pentecost (Christ the King Sunday) Year C (2016)

Proper 29 :: Jeremiah 23: 1–6; Psalm 46; Colossians 1: 11–20; Luke 23: 33–43

This is a homily by Fr. Gene Tucker, delivered at St. John's Church in Huntingdon, Pennsylvania on Sunday, November 20, 2016.
“WHAT SORT OF A KING, WHAT SORT OF A KINGDOM?”
(Homily texts: Colossians 1: 11–20 & Luke 23: 33–43)
This Sunday, we come to the end of the current Church Year. The theme for this Sunday is “Christ the King”, as we honor Jesus Christ as King of kings and Lord of lords, as the collect for this day affirms.
With such a theme as this, one might expect to read and hear Scripture texts which extol Jesus Christ as the risen Lord, texts that tell us about the Lord’s appearances after Easter. Or, we might expect to hear about Jesus’ ascension into heaven (see Luke 24: 50–52 and Acts 1: 6–11). Or, we might expect that the appointed gospel reading for this morning would include Jesus’ statements before Pontius Pilate, when He told Pilate that “My kingdom is not of this world, (see John 18: 36), or Jesus’ statement that Pilate “would have no power over me (Him) unless it had been given from above” (see John 19: 11).
Our epistle reading for this morning, taken from St. Paul’s letter to the Colossians, does give us a glimpse of Jesus Christ as the “very image of the living God”, the one in whom “all things exist and have their being”.[1]
But Jesus as King and Jesus as king over a kingdom that we have before us is a curious one: It is the image of the crucified king. And, since we’ve been spending our time in Luke’s gospel account throughout much of this third year of our three-year cycle of readings, it is the description that Luke alone provides us of the conversation that took place between Jesus and the two thieves who were crucified with Him.
This conversation deserves a closer look than we might be led to give it on first glance. (Frankly, I think that many events in our Lord’s life, as we read them in Holy Scripture, tend to “flatten out”: We often fail to see the human realities which are part of the events in Scripture.)
So let’s begin our examination of this conversation between these three men as they hang on crosses, their life’s vitality slowly slipping away, by looking at those human realities. The first thing we ought to notice is that the king (and the kingdom) doesn’t seem to have much of a future. The “king” (Jesus) hangs as the helpless victim of Roman justice. His crown is made of thorns, and his throne is a cross. His title is fixed above His head, and it reads “Jesus of Nazareth, the King of the Jews”.[2]
The cruel reality is that this “king” has only a short time to live. Moreover, the onlookers on that first Good Friday mocked His powerlessness by telling Him to “save himself”. This taunt is picked up by the unrepentant thief: “Save yourself and us.”
But, as much as it looks as though there is no future at all for this “king” and this “kingdom”, the conversation between Jesus and the repentant thief shows us that there is, indeed, a future for both: Jesus tells the thief that “Today, you will be with me in Paradise.” Jesus’ statement points beyond the immediate circumstances of the awful reality of crucifixion to a grand and blessed future, a future which begins “today”.
This reality is made known by the Lord in response to the thief’s statement of faith: “Remember me when you come into your kingdom.”
We might pause at this point to ask how the thief knew that there would be a kingdom. Luke does not tell us, but if we can take the bulk of Luke’s writing and his concerns overall, and if we could ask Luke directly just what the power was that enabled the thief to believe in the coming and future kingdom, Luke might tell us that it was the Holy Spirit who gave the thief that ability to believe. (We’ll have to wait until we see Luke in heaven to pose that question to him.)
The following observations rise out of the conversation between the Lord and the repentant thief:
  1. The kingdom comes in weakness and surrender: It’s often been said that one cannot reach Easter Sunday without going through Good Friday first. Indeed, there would be no Easter resurrection without the depths and the awfulness of Good Friday. So, just as the Lord tells us that “unless a seed falls into the ground and dies, it remains alone; but if it dies, it bears much fruit.” (John 12: 24) The Lord’s power over death is seen in contrast to His surrender to those powers. The contrast becomes much stronger when they are seen, side-by-side.
  2. The kingdom comes by faith: How many times does the Lord tell someone who had come to Him for help that, “Your faith has made you well”? We read this response (or a version of it) time and again in the gospel accounts. Here before us is the repentant thief’s affirmation of faith: “Lord, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” The thief is granted the ability to see God’s truth lying behind the immediate and hopelessness of his impending death. Faith is the key which opens the future to us, the future which includes all believers.
  3. The kingdom comes in power and in great glory: Notice that Jesus uses the word “paradise” to tell the thief what his future looks like. The kingdom comes in all of its power over sin, death and destruction. The kingdom comes in terms that St. Paul uses in his letter to the Colossians, for the king over this kingdom is the “very image of the living God,”, the one in whom “all things exist.” In reality, this is the nature of the king we worship and love, and it is the true nature of the kingdom of which we are a part. Ours is a glorious future as citizens of this kingdom, and it is a future that isn’t just years or eons away, but it is a future that we possess “today”.

Let’s close by making a few observations….
  1. We come into the kingdom through surrender and in weakness: We come into citizenship in the kingdom of God through the waters of baptism. Taking St. Paul’s description of the meaning of baptism, we see in his explanation that, in baptism, we are ‘buried with Christ in a death like his, and we are raised to a new life in a resurrection like his.” (See Romans 6: 3ff.)
  2. We come in faith:  In baptism, we admit just how helpless we really are. We cannot save ourselves. In this way, we are as helpless as the repentant thief was.
  3. Faith is the link which ties together our weakness and our future: The repentant thief’s future came through faith. Our future also comes through faith in God’s power to redeem us, to claim us as citizens of His heavenly kingdom, and to assure us – through the power of God made known to us in Jesus’ resurrection – that God can assure us of the glorious future that is ours today and into the future.

AMEN.



[1]  Theologians apply the term “High Christology” to texts such as Colossians to describe their concentration on Jesus Christ’s divine nature. Other New Testament texts that share this outlook at John’s gospel account, Paul’s letter to the Ephesians, and the Letter to the Hebrews. Texts which concentrate on Jesus Christ’s human nature carry the title “Low Christology”. Examples of Low Christology in the New Testament are the gospel accounts of Matthew, Mark and Luke.
[2]  Victims of crucifixion often had signs affixed to their crosses to identify the reason(s) for their predicament. Though Luke does not tell us, it’s possible that the two thieves also had signs above their heads, telling everyone who watched what their crime was.

Sunday, November 13, 2016

Pentecost 26, Year C (2016)

Proper 28 :: Malachi 4: 1–2a; Psalm 98; II Thessalonians 3: 6–13; Luke 21: 5–19
This is a homily by Fr. Gene Tucker, delivered at St. John's Church in Huntingdon, Pennsylvania on Sunday, November 13, 2016.
“God’s Enduring and Unchangeable Gift” (Homily text: Luke 21: 5-19)
“As for these things that you see, the days will come when not one stone will be left upon another.”
Our gospel reading, appointed for this morning, outlines times of tremendous change and upheaval. But our reading ends with the assurance that, if God’s people are steadfast, they will endure during difficult times.
The tone of today’s gospel reading reminds us that we are getting to the end of the Church Year. Next Sunday, we will celebrate Christ the King Sunday, reminding ourselves that it is Jesus Christ, the One who is the same yesterday, today and forever, who will reign as King of kings and Lord of lords.
Then, in two weeks, the season of Advent begins. Advent is four Sundays long, offering us a time to prepare to receive Jesus in His birth in Bethlehem, and to prepare to His second coming in power and great glory. If the thought has occurred to you that the current Church Year ends where Advent picks up, you would be absolutely right in coming to that conclusion.
Today’s gospel takes us to the temple in Jerusalem. As Jesus and his disciples walk through the temple, Jesus destroys any sense that this magnificent structure is permanent. At the time Jesus made His way through the temple, it had been under construction for about forty-five to fifty years. King Herod the Great began the rebuilding of the temple in the year 20 BC. To do so, a large, rectangular platform measuring about 1600 feet long by 900 feet wide by 90 feet high was constructed. It is this part of the temple that remains, and it is known today as the Temple Mount. You can still see this structure in Jerusalem. Some of the stones were enormously large and, therefore, very heavy (some are estimated to weigh over 500 tons!). On top of this platform, Herod planned the construction of the temple buildings themselves. It was these structures that were destroyed by the Romans.
The Lord’s prediction was fulfilled in the year 70 AD, when the Roman army destroyed Jerusalem and the temple. Evidence of the destruction of the temple can be seen in Jerusalem today, for an ancient street was recently excavated on the western side of the Temple Mount, showing breakage in the paving stones from the stones that were thrown down by the Roman army when the temple’s buildings were destroyed. History comes alive when one sees these things.
Jesus’ prediction must have been very unsettling for those who heard it. For the Lord not only says that the nature of the temple isn’t permanent, but the lives of Jesus’ followers as time goes along won’t be permanent, either…Jesus tells His listeners that the time will come when they will face personal danger, even from family members. By the time Luke is writing his gospel account, many early Christians had experienced these sorts of hardships.
Jesus’ message puts us face-to-face with the reality that change is all around us. Sometimes, the changes we face are dramatic and violent. Sometimes, the changes we encounter threaten us personally.
In the midst of such change, The Lord assures us that, if we remain steadfast, if we endure, we will prevail against anything that can come our way. There is the permanence we need, and for which we long.
Our relationship to God the Father through Jesus Christ, His Son, is the one thing that no one and no event, no change can take away from us.
Our wonderful country has just come through a presidential election. Without making partisan observations, I think it’s fair to conclude that this recent election was the nastiest we’ve experienced in our country’s recent history. It’s also fair to say that, no matter who had prevailed in this election process, a large percentage of our citizens have emerged from the election’s results with anger, bitterness and anxiety over our future. The reality within our society today is that we are an angry people. We are also a deeply polarized people. So deep are our divisions that, oftentimes, we cannot see or really hear what someone else who holds a different conviction than we do is saying or doing. (As a pastoral aside, during this past week I have had quite a few conversations with persons who are experiencing a deep sense of anxiety over the course of our future.)
As we said at the outset of this homily, Jesus described times of tremendous change for His hearers and His early disciples. The reality for us, as contemporary disciples of Jesus, is that change is all around us, and some changes tend to threaten us personally.
In the midst of change, is there anything we can count on to be permanent? The answer is, “Yes”, there is. As we said a moment ago, our relationship with God is the one thing that cannot be taken away from us by change, or by any other event or force.
In Baptism, an indelible mark is placed on the soul. In Baptism, we are claimed as Christ’s own for ever. We are sealed by the Holy Spirit in Baptism, as our baptismal liturgy affirms.
This morning, young Colin will receive the gift of a permanent relationship with God as he enters the waters of baptism.
As time goes along, it will be the responsibility of Colin’s parents, grandparents, godparents, relatives and others to teach Colin just what this permanent relationship means. The goal is for Colin to own this wonderful relationship for himself, as he comes to a mature faith in Christ.
St. Paul offers us some wonderful words of comfort. They come to us from his letter to the Romans, chapter eight, and they remind us that we cannot be separated from God’s love. Here’s what Paul has to say:
What then are we to say about these things? If God is for us, who is against us? He who did not withhold his own Son, but gave him up for all of us, will he not with him also give us everything else? Who will bring any charge against God’s elect? It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? It is Christ Jesus, who died, yes, who was raised, who is at the right hand of God, who indeed intercedes for us. Who will separate us from the love of Christ? Will hardship, or distress, or persecution, or famine, or nakedness, or peril, or sword? As it is written, “For your sake we are being killed all day long; we are accounted as sheep to be slaughtered.” No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us.  For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. (Romans 8: 31–39, NRSV)
Thanks be to God for the enduring gift of His presence, through all the changes and chances of life.

AMEN.

Sunday, November 06, 2016

All Saints' Sunday, Year C (2016)

All Saints’ :: Daniel 7: 1–3, 15–18; Psalm 149; Ephesians 1: 11–23; Luke 6: 20–31

This is a homily by Fr. Gene Tucker, given at St. John’s Church in Huntingdon, Pennsylvania on Sunday, November 6, 2016.

“The Love Languages of God and of the Saints”
(Homily text:  Luke 6: 20–31)
For the first three years that we were posted to the southern part of Illinois, I had the pleasure of meeting each week with about five or six other clergy colleagues (not Episcopalians) for breakfast and for a time of prayer, sharing and mutual support. An essential part of our time together involved reading and discussing a book. One of our members would suggest a book, which we would all read and consider.
This pattern was an especial blessing for me, because it brought me into contact with material I might never have read otherwise.
One such book was The Love Languages of God: How to Feel and Reflect Divine Love, by Gary Chapman.[1]
Chapman outlines five ways that we know and experience God’s love. Chapman says we know divine love by:
  1. Words of Affirmation
  2.  The gift of quality time
  3.  Gifts given and received
  4.  Acts of service
  5. Physical touch

It seems to me that love cannot be known without some act or action that conveys the power of love, for love demands movement from the lover to the loved. This is true of the love which flows from God to human beings, or between one human being and another. Consider, for example, a situation in which a spouse continually says to their partner, “I love you,” but who does not act as though that verbal profession has any connection to reality. In such a case, there’s no expression by way of concrete and observable acts or actions that would cause the partner to believe that the spouse really does love.
The same is true of God.
Without some way to see and experience God’s love in action, we humans might be left with an empty notion that God really does love and does care for us.
We see God’s love most concretely in the sending of His only-begotten Son, Jesus Christ, to take up our humanity to the full. God’s love, made known in Christ, is seen most clearly (it seems to me) in the Lord’s suffering and death on Good Friday and His subsequent resurrection on Easter Sunday morning. Here, in this sequence of events, we see the depths (quite literally) to which the Lord Jesus was willing to go do redeem us, and the demonstration of God’s overwhelming power to conquer the sin that binds us and which separates us from God.
The Lord’s continuing presence with us, whenever two or three are gathered together in His name (as we read in Matthew 18: 20), or when we read the pages of sacred Scripture, through which the Lord speaks to us, or whenever we receive the Sacrament of the Eucharist, is God’s continuing gift to us. Taking a look at Chapman’s list, here we experience God’s love in the words of affirmation we hear, in the quality time we spend with God, time that God also spends with us, and in the acts of service that God has done for us, and which we know from Holy Scripture and in our continuing, daily lives.
The saints of God are also avenues of God’s love.
When we consider the matter of saints and sainthood, we ought to define these terms just a bit. A common conception – but a mistaken one – is that a saint is a person who lived a long time ago, and whose work in God’s name was especially noteworthy. (I call such saints saints with a capital “S”.) It’s all well and good to honor the great saints who have been especially powerful agents of God’s love in times past. We could name, St. Peter,[2] St. Paul,[3] St. Ignatius of Antioch,[4] or St. Augustine of Hippo[5] as examples. Or perhaps St. Teresa of Avila,[6] as another example.
But saints encompass a far wider circle that the notable and remembered ones, those saints with a capital “S”. Saints are – in a most elementary and basic definition of the term – the “holy” ones of God (remember that the word “saint” comes to us from the Latin word for “holy”). So saints are those who have come to faith in the Lord, and who have passed through the waters of baptism.
So if I were to ask those of you who are present here this morning to raise your hand if you know yourself to be a saint, I would expect every one present who’s been baptized to acknowledge their sainthood. (Yes, I know we might be somewhat reluctant to “toot our own horn” where sainthood is concerned. But that reluctance aside, it’s also good to affirm that each one of us is a member of God’s family, persons who seek God’s face and who seek to be the lens through which God’s love can be seen.)
Saints are – by definition – counter-cultural creations. If we look at the traits that Jesus outlines in our gospel this morning, which presents us with Luke’s version of the Beatitudes, we see that God’s people operate by a different set of values. Consider just one admonition that the Lord puts before us this morning. He says: “But I say to you that listen, love your enemies, do good to those that hate you, bless those who curse you, prayer for those who abuse you.”
I don’t know about you, but I sense within myself a strong desire to do just the opposite of what the Lord calls His saints to do to those who cause me grief. I want to do what the world encourages us to do:  Get a bigger stick when trouble comes around.  Are you like that?  Maybe so.
And yet, we who are saints are called to be different.  We are called to be the lens through which God’s light is refracted clearly into the world. Turning this image around the other way, we are called to be the lens through which the world can see God clearly.
That is our calling.  That is the call to sainthood.
Can you see saintly traits in yourself, however faint they may be from time-to-time? Can you see saintly traits in other Christians you know?  How about telling that other believer about the saintly ways you see God at work in their lives. They’ll benefit from knowing the good and godly things you see in them.
AMEN.


[1]   This book was published by Northfield Publishing, Chicago, in 2002.
[2]   St. Peter has a primacy among the original Apostles.
[3]   St. Paul was God’s means by which the Good News was given to all people.
[4]   St. Ignatius of Antioch was Bishop of Caesarea, who wrote letters to Christians as he made his way to Rome, where he was martyred in the year 115 AD.
[5]   St. Augustine (died 431 AD) was Bishop of the north Africa city of Hippo. He is, perhaps, the foremost theologian of the western Church.
[6]   St. Teresa of Avila, a 16th century mystic, offers us a glimpse into the mysteries of God.