Sunday, December 24, 2017

The Eve of the Nativity,Year B (2017)

Isaiah 9: 2–7; Psalm 96; Titus 2: 11–14; Luke 2: 1–20
This is the Christmas Eve homily given at St. John’s, Huntingdon, Pennsylvania on Sunday, December 24, 2017, by Fr. Gene Tucker.
“WHY BE A CHRISTIAN?”
Why be a disciple of Jesus? Or – if we could ask this question another way – why be a partisan of Jesus (a phrase I heard in seminary, and one I like). Or – if we were to ask this question in a very commonly used way – why be a Christian?
Perhaps there are many reasons to be a follower of Jesus (still another way we could describe being in relationship with the Lord Jesus Christ), but – on this Christmas Eve – I think the central theme of our Christmas celebration offers us one very compelling reason to be in relationship with Jesus.
(At this juncture, it might be good to remind ourselves that the accounts we read in Holy Scripture usually convey one or more central teachings, lessons that God wants us to learn. No matter how much we might pick Scripture apart to study its various aspects, once that process of close examination is finished, we are called to step back from that process and ask ourselves, “What is it that this passage is trying to tell us?”)
The account of Jesus’ birth, as we hear it from Luke’s writing, conveys one overarching theme (it seems to me):
God cared so much for the human race that He reached out to us
in the sending of Jesus
to take on our humanity.
This means that God took the initiative. It means that you and I matter a lot to God. It means that God loves us, and loves us deeply and intensely. In I John 4: 9, 10, we read this: “In this the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world, so that we might live through him. In this is love, not that we loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins.” (English Standard Version)
Isn’t it a wonderful and glorious thing to know how important we are to God? Knowing this truth changes everything in our lives, for now, even the smallest things in our lives become important, for all that we do and say is done in God’s sight.
Jesus Christ is the “image of the invisible God” (Colossians 1: 15), the One who came to show us the Father’s love, the One who opened the way to God for us.
Thanks be to God!
AMEN.


Advent 4, Year B (2017)

II Samuel 7: 1–11, 16; Psalm 89: 1–4, 19–16; Romans 16: 25–27; Luke 1: 26–38
This is the homily given at St. John’s, Huntingdon, Pennsylvania on Sunday, December 24, 2017, by Fr. Gene Tucker.
“COULD SHE (MARY) HAVE SAID ‘NO’?”
(Homily text:  Luke 1: 26-38)
“No, I’m not willing to do what you ask. Get someone else.”
Could the Blessed Virgin Mary have said these (or similar) words to the angel Gabriel when the angel came to visit Mary? Christians are not of the same mind as to the answer: Some say that she could, most definitely, have rejected God’s plan. Others say she couldn’t. I’ll let you wrestle with this question.
But, fortunately for you and I, Mary did say “yes”.
Oftentimes, I think the accounts in Holy Scripture tend to “flatten out” whenever we read them. Sometimes, biblical accounts lose their three dimensional quality.  That is to say, we can easily lose sight of the fact that the persons mentioned in the Bible were real people, people with concerns, fears, expectations and hopes just like we have. The essential building blocks of humanity haven’t changed over all the years from Mary’s time till our own. The humanity we share with Mary and with all those who are named in the Bible is one and the same.
With this in mind, let’s turn again to this very familiar encounter, one that Luke alone among the Gospel writers imparts to us. For if we regard Mary not as the very highly exalted figure that she deserves to be, but as a young woman, perhaps so young that she was in her early teens (remember that, in the society of that day, it was not uncommon for people to be married in their early teens….after all, the life expectancy was also quite short by contemporary standards), then perhaps we can put ourselves into Mary’s shoes for a brief moment. If we are able to do this, we can catch a glimpse of the astonishing nature of her encounter with the angel Gabriel. We can also catch a glimpse of the personal risk to Mary’s life that was involved in her saying “Yes” to God.
To see the extraordinary nature of Mary’s encounter with Gabriel, let’s transfer the essentials of this encounter to the post office building downtown, and the time frame is December, 2017.
Imagine that we have gone to the post office to buy stamps. After standing in line to get our stamps, a man who’s been standing in the lobby calls out to us as we are about to leave and asks if he might chat with us for a moment. In response, we make our way to the far side of the lobby, where the man identifies himself as God’s messenger, Gabriel. Speaking in quiet tones, he lays out a plan which, he says, will affect the entire world, adding that we are essential to God’s plan. Our cooperation is vital to the plan’s success.
As we ponder what this mysterious figure has to say, a number of responses arise: For one thing, we realize that, if we say “yes” to the plan, the trajectory of our own life will change for ever….whatever plans we might have had for our future will have to be re-assessed and refigured. For another, we see that acceptance of the plan will involve considerable risk to our own welfare….even telling others about what we’ve been told will risk the possibility of provoking reactions of disbelief or even scorn. Some might even think we’ve become delusional. As others in the community find out about our story, they may ostracize us. We might risk losing friends, and our own family members might turn away from us.
This little exercise might enable us to see the realities that attended Gabriel’s message. Though we do not know exactly when and where Gabriel had his conversation with Mary (and Luke doesn’t tell us), it’s possible that the encounter may have taken place in a very common, ordinary setting, perhaps something like when Mary came to the town well to draw water. Nor do we know what in what form Gabriel appeared to Mary. Could he have appeared as an ordinary human being? Quite possibly, he did.
But the extraordinary nature of what Mary had to relate to her family and friends is something we can relate to, for when Mary told others what had happened, it’s possible that they may have thought she was either seeing things, or that she was even a little out-of-her-mind. What Mary had to say was extraordinary in every way. She related a story that involved God’s personal intervention in human history. God’s great, big and wonderful plan was going to unfold through her.
Beyond that, Mary’s “yes” involved a good deal of personal risk to her own safety, for to be pregnant in that culture and in that time without the benefit of marriage was to risk being ostracized, or worse. (Matthew explores this aspect of Jesus’ conception as he relates Joseph’s reaction to Mary’s pregnancy.)
Our regard for Mary’s “yes” to God’s invitation is magnified when we consider that her acceptance of God’s plan involved an entirely new course for her own life, a course which involved great personal risk.
Mary’s “yes” opens the way for God’s plan to save the world to take place. With Mary’s cooperation, God can come and take on our humanity completely and fully. Mary’s “yes” establishes her in the catalog of the saints as the perfect model of submission to God’s will. Mary’s obedience is the model for us to emulate and follow.
Do I believe that Mary could have said “no”? Yes, I believe she had that freedom. But because she said “yes”, she is forever to be called “blessed”.
AMEN. 

Sunday, December 17, 2017

Advent 3, Year B (2017)

Isaiah 61: 1–4, 8–11; Psalm 126; I Thessalonians 5: 16–24; John 1: 6–8, 19–28
This is the homily offered by Fr. Gene Tucker at St. John’s, Huntingdon, Pennsylvania on Sunday, December 17, 2017.
“STIR UP SUNDAY”
(Homily text:  John 1: 6–8, 18-29)
Welcome, on this Third Sunday of Advent, to “Stir Up Sunday”. No, not “stirrup” Sunday, as in the device that the rider of a horse puts his/her foot into, but – as our Collect for this day states so well, “Stir up thy power, O God, and with great might come among us.”
Our Gospel text for this morning places before us John’s account of John the Baptist’s ministry, as he prepared the way of the Lord, making straight in the desert a highway for our God.
(Recall with me that we heard Mark’s account of the Baptist’s ministry in our appointed Gospel text last Sunday.)
Here we are confronted with the nature of John’s ministry, for he was “stirring things up” out there in the desert, baptizing people for the forgiveness of their sins. And, most likely for the purpose of checking him out, a delegation of priests and Levites are sent to ascertain the nature of what John is doing. But their questions, posed to him: “Who are you? What do you say about yourself?” have to do with the authority for what John is doing. After all, these emissaries who had been sent by the Pharisees were all into authority, or – more specifically – their own authority as the spiritual leaders of the people. (At this point in the development of John’s and Jesus’ ministries, the priests, Levites and Pharisees seem to be merely curious about these goings-on. In due course, their curiosity will turn to rejection and opposition.)
In what way, then, was John “stirring things up” out there in the desert as he heard people (orally and out loud) confess their sins? How did John’s work differ from the established ways of doing things that the Law of Moses – as it was practiced in those days – prescribed?
The overall picture that the Gospels provide us might provide a clue.
Apparently, God’s people in that day and time were focused on the outward expression of their relationship to God. To some extent, it seems fair to characterize their religious observances as a process of “going through the motions”. But the hearts of many – and particularly of the religious leaders of that time – were far from God. (We see this, in the case of the religious leaders, quite clearly as they will eventually plot to kill Jesus.)
Part of this outward religious practice involved the taking of a ritual bath prior to going to worship in the Temple. Called the mikvah in Hebrew, it involved a washing of the body. But John’s washing was anything but an outward “going through the motions.” We can easily imagine hearing John ask those who had entered the waters of the Jordan River just what it was that they had done. We can imagine him saying, “Be specific.” And perhaps we can also imagine John asking those who were making their confessions to speak up so God (and everyone else) could hear what they said. In this aural confession, we see sacramental living at its best: The confessions that reached John’s ears, the ears of those gathered around, and God, involved the union of the inner disposition of the heart with the outward actions  
Here we see the difference between John’s washing and the ritual washings that took place prior to entering the Temple. There was no “going through the motions” as John demanded an outward accounting for the wrongdoings that brought people out into the desert.
But John was stirring things up in other ways, as well.
As John is asked, “Are you the Messiah?” “I am not” was John’s answer. “Are you Elijah?” “I am not” John said. “Are you the prophet?” “I am not” was the answer yet again.
It’s worthy of our notice to see what John says about himself: He points away from himself and toward Jesus (though he does not name Jesus at this point). He says, “I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, ‘Make straight the way of the Lord.’”
In essence, what John is saying is that he is a nobody. He is simply God’s messenger, pointing away from himself personally and toward God and toward God’s purposes.
In this way, John stands in sharp contrast to the ways of the priests, the Levites and the Pharisees, who seemed to glory in their own importance and place in the religious scheme of things that were in place in those days.
How about you and I? What and who are we?
We are – like John the Baptist – called to point toward God and toward God’s purposes, made known in Jesus Christ. We are called to stir things up by calling people to the living of an integrated life, one in which the inner disposition of the heart is matched by the outward living of life.
In every age and in every place and in every time, God’s call to the living of a truly integrated life stands as God’s desire and God’s command. To this desire and this command, you and I are called by virtue of our Baptisms.
AMEN.
           
           


           


Sunday, December 10, 2017

Advent 2, Year B (2017)

Isaiah 40: 1–11; Psalm 85: 1–2, 8–13; II Peter 3: 8–15a; Mark 1: 1–8
This is the homily by Fr. Gene Tucker that was given at St. John’s; Huntingdon, Pennsylvania on Sunday, December 10, 2017.
“PREPARING THE WAY”
(Homily texts:  Isaiah 40: 1–11 &  Mark 1: 1–8)
In each year of our three-year cycle of readings, our Gospel reading places before us the account of John the Baptist’s ministry.
The theme of this Sunday’s readings is “Preparing the way.” Preparing the way of the Lord, making straight in the desert a highway for our God, as our Isaiah reading proclaims. (Can’t you hear the wonderful music of Handel’s “Messiah” running through your mind as you read Isaiah’s words?)
This theme, one of the preparing of the way of the Lord, is one in which the Lord prepares a way for His people to come home, and of God’s servants (in this case the figure of John the Baptist) preparing a way for the coming of Jesus Christ, who is the One who opened the way to God.
Let’s explore these ideas just a bit.
We should begin with Isaiah’s words….
This portion of the Book of Isaiah was written, most biblical scholars believe, by someone who may have been a member of a school of prophets, or by someone who was writing with the themes of Isaiah in mind, during the time of the return of God’s people from exile in Babylon. (To refresh our memories, God’s people – many of them anyway – had been deported to Babylon when Jerusalem was conquered in the year 586 BC. Then, when the Babylonian Empire fell to the Persians, it was the Persian king Cyrus who allowed the exiles to return home to the Holy Land.) So this portion of the Book of Isaiah carries the title “Second Isaiah”, and it encompasses chapters 40 through 54 of the book.[1]
Isaiah chapter 40 tells us that God is going to prepare a way for His people to return home. God will “make straight in the desert a highway” for His people. That highway will be created as the rough places are made plain, and the crooked places are made straight.
And so it came to be. In the year 538 BC, the first of the exiles left Babylon and made their way to the Promised Land, where they would rebuild Jerusalem and would restore the Temple.
Now we must fast-forward 500 and more years, to the time of the ministry of John the Baptist.
It is this powerful figure that we encounter, ministering in the wilderness, calling God’s people to repent of their sins, and to be washed clean of those sins by entering the waters of the Jordan River. Mark, along with Matthew and Luke, tell us that the Baptist’s ministry is one of preparation, for John – they all tell us – was preparing the way of the Lord.
Moreover, the description of the Baptist’s clothing and his diet are reminiscent of the ministry of the ancient prophet Elijah. (See II Kings 1: 8) In Elijah’s ministry, we encounter a prophet who prepared the way of the Lord by denouncing the false worship of the pagan god Ba’al. In the Baptist’s ministry, we encounter a figure who labors in the same fashion as those Old Testament prophets, calling God’s people to a true and faithful worship of God which involves not only the outward actions of worship that the Law of Moses prescribed, but to an inner purity of heart which integrated the outward actions of worship with the intent and condition of the heart.
Perhaps it’s not too much of a stretch of our imaginations to say that you and I are called to engage in a ministry like John the Baptist’s.
That is, we are called to prepare the way of the Lord by pointing beyond ourselves to the coming of the Lord Jesus Christ. This is, after all, what we are all about in this season of Advent: We are getting ready for the coming of Jesus.
And, in a nutshell, that’s what God is doing in sending His Son, Jesus Christ, to take on our humanity, for God is opening a way, a highway, for us to follow to find our way back to God. That is the Christmas message in its most basic form. (We will have more to say about this in our Christmas homily.)
As part of our preparation for the coming of the Lord, perhaps we might reflect a bit on the ways in which we are pointing beyond ourselves to the ways in which the Lord comes into people’s lives. We might do that as we look back over our shoulders at the pathways of life that we have walked thus far, to see the wonderful work that God has done in our lives. For there, I suspect, we will find evidence of God’s doings, and we can share those great and good deeds with others, so they will be able to see similar workings of God in their own lives.
May we point the way to God by sharing the ways in which God has opened the way for us to find the pathway to a full and lasting relationship with Him.
AMEN.



[1]   Biblical scholars differ in their convictions about the authorship of the remainder of the Book of Isaiah. Some maintain that the entire remainder of the book should be known as Second Isaiah, while others say that chapters 55 through the end of the book was written by a third individual, and so should be known as Third Isaiah.