Sunday, February 25, 2018

Lent 2, Year B (2018)


Genesis 17: 1–7, 15–16; Psalm 22: 22–30; Romans 4: 13–25; Mark 8: 31–38
This is the homily that was given at St. John’s, Huntingdon, Pennsylvania on Sunday, February 25, 2018, by Fr. Gene Tucker.
“PEERING INTO THE FUTURE, INTO THE UNKNOWN”
(Homily texts:  Genesis 17: 1–7, 15-16, Romans 4: 13-25 & Mark 8: 31-38)
Our Old Testament reading from Genesis, and our Gospel text from Mark portray journeys of faith.
In Genesis, we hear the account of God’s reiteration of His earlier promise to Abraham[1], that Abraham would be the father of many peoples. (As part of this promise, God changes Abraham’s name from Abram, meaning “father of people” to Abraham, meaning “father of the people”.)
Now, we fast-forward to our Gospel text, where we read Peter’s rebuke of Jesus when he hears Jesus foretell His death, and Jesus’ famous reply, “Get behind me, Satan!”
The link that binds Abraham’s journey of faith to Peter’s journey of faith is an uncertain future. Abraham, in the verses that immediately follow today’s passage, falls on his face, laughing, and saying to himself, “Shall a child be born to a man who is a hundred years old? Shall Sarah, who is ninety years old, bear a child?” To Abraham, God’s promise that his descendents will be many seems like an impossibility.
Similarly, when Peter hears Jesus’ prediction that, when He reaches Jerusalem, he will be rejected and will be killed, Peter can’t believe that this sort of a future is – or should be – a possibility.
In each case, however, God has given Abraham and Peter a foundation for having faith….Abram had been led by God ever since he left Ur of the Chaldeans. Even there, God tested Abram, saying to him, “Go from your father’s house to the land that I will show you.” Notice that God didn’t tell him where, exactly, he was to go.
Likewise, Peter had witnessed Jesus’ miraculous healings, Jesus’ walking on water, His feeding of the 5,000 and then the 4,000. Surely, whatever wonder Peter and the other disciples had about Jesus’ nature, they surely had no doubt that God was working through Him.
Each man had a basis for facing the future, uncertain though it was.
Our journey of faith is similar to the experience of Abraham and Peter….we are given by God some basis for knowing God’s power and God’s presence in our lives. We need only to look over our shoulders at our life’s trajectory to this point to see some evidence of God’s moving, acting and presence.
After all, the biblical accounts serve the purpose of recording for us the journeys of faith of heroes like Abraham and Peter, who, though they doubted at times, though they didn’t trust God’s promises at times, were – in the end – able to face the future and to emerge from that future in God’s stead.
May the Holy Spirit enlighten us to see God’s working in our lives in the past, that we may face an uncertain future with assurance and faith.  AMEN.



[1]   See Genesis 15: 1 – 11.

Sunday, February 18, 2018

Lent 1, Year B (2018)


Genesis 9: 8–17; Psalm 25: 1–9; I Peter 3: 18–22; Mark 1: 9–15
This is the homily that was given at St. John’s, Huntingdon, Pennsylvania, on Sunday, February 18, 2018 by Fr. Gene Tucker.
“I’M A PERSON, AND I CAN CHANGE, I GUESS”
(Homily texts:  Genesis 9: 8–17, I Peter 3: 18–22, and Mark 1: 9-15)
A few years ago, there was a wonderful comedy show on Public Television entitled “The Red Green Show”. It came to us from Canada, and centered around the activities of men in a small community. Each week, the men would gather in the men’s clubhouse, filing into the rows of benches, and would stand to begin their meetings with the men’s oath, part of which went like this:  “I’m a man, and I can change, I guess.”
Let’s adapt this phrase for our Lenten purposes, changing it to say:  “I’m a person, and I can change, I guess.”
Change is at the heart of the business of Lent. God seeks to change us, expunging those things that are less-than-holy, less-than-pleasing to Him. God would also like to change us so that we are more willing to establish relationships with other human beings who have been created by God, in God’s image and likeness (see Genesis 1: 26 – 27). And then, God also seeks to change us by reinforcing those things that are pleasing to Him. In truth, we human beings are, more than likely, a combination of pleasing, displeasing and indifferent qualities.
Our three appointed lectionary readings for this day are remarkably well matched, for each of the three has something to do with a water crossing:  Our Genesis reading recounts God’s covenant with Noah as the waters of the Great Flood recede; St. Peter, writing late in his life, recalls God’s promise to Noah, likening it to the passage of water that is Baptism; and then Mark recounts Jesus’ baptism by St. John the Baptist.
Water crossings cause, mark and create change.
Consider Noah’s situation: Once the flood water receded, Noah had forever left the wicked world that existed before the flood, for that world was destroyed. Then, Noah, his wife, and Noah’s three sons and their wives (eight persons in all[1], Peter reminds us), were commissioned to begin anew, to create a better, more righteous and more pleasing-to-God world.
In our Lord’s case, His baptism marked the end of His previous life and the beginning of His public, earthly ministry.
Water crossings make it impossible to return to something that existed before. Consider the crossing of the Red Sea, as God’s people made their way out of slavery in Egypt to the Promised Land. Consider also the crossing of Jordan River as God’s people entered the land that had been promised to their forefathers, the Patriarchs. For those that crossed the Jordan on dry ground, there was no returning to life in the wilderness.
Water crossings also mark covenants made with God. Certainly this is true in Noah’s case, as God promises that He will never again destroy the whole world by flood. The sign of this covenant is the rainbow. God’s covenant, in this case, is an unconditional covenant, for God simply promises to do what He will do, without regard to any human response.
As we enter the waters of Holy Baptism, we become inheritors of God’s unconditional covenant, for in Baptism, an indelible mark is impressed on the soul. We can never return to the life we may have known before coming to Christ in Baptism. We are buried with Christ in a death like His, only to be raised to new life in a resurrection like His, as St. Paul reminds us in Romans 6: 3–9.
But, if we look a little further into the world as it came to be after God had made that covenant with Noah and with all of Noah’s descendents, we can see that the world that came to be was far from perfect. Wickedness again abounded. But, again and again, God intervened to straighten things out. We can see this quite well in the Red Sea crossing account, for God, in His mercy, made it possible for His chosen people to escape from bondage in Egypt. As those same people made their way into the Sinai Desert, they grumbled, they complained, they made an idol in the form of a golden calf, and they were attacked by fiery serpents. Yet, in each case, God reached out to them in mercy, given them water from the rock, manna and quail from heaven, and a bronze serpent which would deliver them from the dangers of the fiery serpents.
God’s mercy called His people to change their ways, to become the righteous and holy people that God’s plan outlined for their way of life. The Old Testament accounts, especially when we read the prophets, is replete with accounts of the wayward ways of God’s people, followed by times in which God’s people repented and changed their ways.
Human history reads a lot like what we read in the pages of the Old Testament, for people waver between faithfulness to God and unfaithfulness.
God’s voice calls to us, however, in the times in which we wander away from God, entreating us to change our ways. We are called to remember that we have passed through the waters of Baptism, and are “marked as Christ’s own forever,” as our baptismal rite states. So for all the baptized, life is forever changed. Gradually and with the help of the Holy Spirit, we can live into the holiness of life that God’s unconditional covenant, made with us in Baptism, entails.
So perhaps our prayer might be “I’m a person, and I can change, I know I can, with God’s help.”
AMEN.



[1]   I can’t resist inserting a comment that, in Holy Scripture, the number eight represents a new beginning. Examples of this include:  The creation of the world in six days, after which God rested on the seventh day, and then, on the eighth day, that new creation begin to operate; Noah and his group, numbering eight persons; Jewish boys were circumcised on the eighth day of life; and King David was the eighth son of his father Jesse.  Perhaps there are other examples that don’t come to my mind at the moment.

Wednesday, February 14, 2018

Ash Wednesday, Year B (2018)


Joel 2: 1–2, 12–17; Psalm 103: 8–14 ; II Corinthians 5: 20b – 6: 10; Matthew 6: 1–6, 16–21
This is the homily by Fr. Gene Tucker that was given at St. John’s, Huntingdon, Pennsylvania on Wednesday, February 14, 2018 by Fr. Gene Tucker.
“MARKED AS CHRIST’S OWN FOREVER”
When a person is baptized, oil of Chrism is applied to their foreheads, and these words are spoken: “You are sealed by the Holy Spirit in Baptism, and are marked as Christ’s own forever.”
The Church has been observing this rite for centuries, and perhaps even from the very earliest times of its existence. But this action has its roots in the ancient world: Soldiers in the Roman army had the names of their commanding generals tattooed on their foreheads. (As a retired soldier, I’m not sure what happened when a soldier’s commanding general changed.) To bear the name of one’s commander was to say, in effect, “I belong to General so-and-so.”
The writer of the Book of Revelation picks up on this theme[1], writing that the saints of God are sealed with the Lord’s name on their foreheads. To receive such a sealing is to fall under the Lord’s protection.
As we make our way through life, we receive sealings on our foreheads at various times:
  • In baptism, as we mentioned a moment ago;
  • On Ash Wednesday each year;
  • When we are sick or ill (a rite called Unction); and
  • At death (a rite called Extreme Unction).

Oil of Chrism is used at baptism and for healing. A different oil is used at the time of death. But ashes are used on Ash Wednesday.
The oil of Chrism has a permanent quality: “You are sealed by the Holy Spirit in Baptism, and are marked as Christ’s own forever.” When sickness arises, and an anointing is done with that same oil of Chrism, the implication is that the illness cannot separate us from God’s claim on us, made in Baptism. Even at death, when a different oil is used, we reiterate that claim that God made on us when we were baptized.
But ashes have a different association:  In the Old Testament period, ashes were a sign of mourning, especially mourning for sin and wrongdoing. When God’s people were made aware of their shortcomings before the coming of Christ, often then would cover their heads with ashes and sit in sackcloth.
Ashes make us aware that one of the tools we need in order to walk with God is to be able and willing to say to God, “I’m sorry, I’ve fallen short of your righteous standards.” Such a tool will be a necessary one all throughout our earthly lives, until we see God face-to-face in eternity.
To be able to say “I’m sorry” is to be able to allow God to reinforce His claim on us, a claim that started at the time of our baptisms, a claim that will extend into all eternity. The path to restoring a healthy relationship with God begins with us. It begins when we are willing and able to say, “I goofed up.”
Ashes also remind us that this earthly life will have an end. There will come a time for all of us when this life will be no more. If we realize and acknowledge this eventual reality, then a sense of urgency can follow, as we realize that we must be about God’s work and God’s business while we have the opportunity. Being able to do God’s work and God’s business is possible when we have a healthy relationship with God.
So Lent is now upon us. We have been sealed on our foreheads with God’s claim on our lives. Now we come to recognize that we have this guarantee only now in part, for in this life, our close relationship with God can become impaired from time-to-time. Lent offers us a time to begin anew, approaching the God who is not only holy, but who is also full of grace and mercy, saying, “Lord, I’m sorry for the ways in which I have not lived up to your claim on my life”.
AMEN.


[1]   See Revelation 7: 3.  The writer of Revelation appropriates imagery from the Old Testament prophet Ezekiel. See Ezekiel 9: 4 – 6.

Sunday, February 11, 2018

The Last Sunday after the Epiphany – Year B (2018)


II Kings 2: 1-12 :: Psalm 50: 1–6 :: II Corinthians 4: 3–6 :: Mark 9: 2–9
This is the homily given at St. John’s, Huntingdon, Pennsylvania on Sunday, February 11, 2018 by Fr. Gene Tucker.

“COMFORT FOOD”
(Homily text:  Mark 9: 2-9)
This morning, we look at the event which is known as the Transfiguration of our Lord Jesus Christ, which is an event we conclude the Epiphany season with every year, and which is also celebrated on its own separate feast day, August 6th.  Let’s consider the importance of this revelation of the Lord’s glory to Peter, James and John from the perspective of “comfort food”. For this event would serve to provide comfort and strength not only to these three disciples, but, eventually, to all of the disciples.      
Many families have some sort of “comfort food”, which might be a particular food or dish that is associated with shared love and experiences within the family. In our family, we have a tradition which is associated with good times and shared experiences: It is an ice cream sundae known as a Tin Roof Sundae, or in some areas of the country, a Peanut Parfait. It is made up of vanilla ice cream, chocolate sauce and Spanish peanuts. The interaction of the salted peanuts with the sweetness of the ice cream, blended with the chocolate sauce, makes, for our family, quite a treat.
In fact, whenever the family gets together, and the suggestion is made that it’s time for ice cream, sometimes I will intentionally leave out the peanuts. Then, it won’t be long before somebody says, “OK, where are the peanuts”. (My family is quite well trained, as you can see.)
Tin Roof Sundaes carry with them many memories of times gone by, of shared experiences and of the bonds which tie the family together. Sharing time with others in the family over Tin Roof Sundaes allows us to learn a lot about each other, so the significance of this long-standing family tradition touches us at some of life’s deepest levels.
Turning to the Transfiguration event, we can see that – in the passage of time – the disciples remembered this event with fondness: Peter, writing in his second letter (see II Peter 1: 16 – 18) looks back fondly at the Transfiguration event. Eventually, the disciples would draw deep comfort from the Transfiguration event.
In time, the disciples would come to understand that this revelation of the Lord’s eternal glory would forecast that same glory which would be seen on Easter Sunday morning. For God’s eternal purposes are revealed as the Father’s voice is heard at the Transfiguration, “This is my beloved Son, listen to him.”
Of course, as the Transfiguration unfolds, the three disciples who had gone up the mountain with the Lord didn’t know what to make of the change in Jesus’ appearance, and of His conversing with Moses and Elijah. Peter tries to capture the event, suggesting that three dwellings be constructed, one for the Lord, one for Moses and one for Elijah.
As we make our way through life, and as we walk with God, we need some spiritual comfort food, events that assure us that the Lord Jesus Christ is no mere human being. The Transfiguration is one of those events that provides us with comfort, for in this event, see are given proof that Jesus Christ is one with the Father, co-eternal with Him. If this is true, then the Lord has shown us the Father. He has opened for us the channels of communication with the Father. He has the power to overcome our greatest and final enemy, death.
These things are sources of assurance for us, proofs that Jesus Christ is who He said He is. Therefore, we can put our trust in God’s revelation of Himself, made known in the person of Jesus Christ, who is revealed in the Transfiguration, and in His rising on Easter Sunday morning.
Thanks be to God.
AMEN.


Sunday, February 04, 2018

Epiphany 5, Year B (2018)

Isaiah 40: 21–31; Psalm 147: 1–12, 21c; I Corinthians 9: 16–23; Mark 1: 29–39 

This is the homily given at St. John’s; Huntingdon, Pennsylvania on Sunday, February 4, 2018 by Fr. Gene Tucker.
“GOD’S CALL AND THE HUMAN RESPONSE”
(Homily text:  I Corinthians 9: 16-23)
“I have become all things to all people,” St. Paul says in his first letter to the Corinthians. He had prefaced this remark by categorizing some of the ways in which he has shown himself to be one with others:  To the Jews, he says, I am a Jew; to those outside the law (of Moses); I became as one outside the law; to the weak, I became weak.
I do it, he says, “that I might be all means save some.”
Is Paul being disingenuous in his comments by listing the ways he has identified himself with others? No, not at all. In fact, Paul’s background and history demonstrate that he has shared in each of the specific categories he mentions:  Raised as a pious and observant Jew, a “Pharisee, and the son of the Pharisee”, he says in Acts 23: 6. Paul can rightfully claim to identify with Jews. To those outside the law (that is, Gentiles), Paul can genuinely claim that heritage, also, for Paul is a Roman citizen, raised in the city of Tarsus in Asia Minor. Paul can also claim to be weak, having been emptied by the Lord Jesus Christ of any pretext for self-importance in his conversion experience on the road to Damascus.
Paul is, therefore, outlining the ways in which he seeks to find common ground with those he wants to share the Good News (Gospel) of Jesus Christ.
But in the early Church in Corinth, there was little common ground to be found among its members. Paul is dealing with a very problematic bunch of Christians. They are separated from one another by factions: In chapter one of his first letter, Paul directly addresses this party spirit, saying that he is dismayed to learn that some of the Corinthian Christians are claiming to be of the “Peter party”, while others are claiming to be member of the “party of Apollos”, while still others are claiming to be part of “Paul’s party”. And still others (presumably in an attempt to top all these other groups) are claiming to be in the “Jesus party”.
Furthermore, these divisions aren’t limited to the claims of discipleship to follow Paul, Apollos, Peter, or Christ. The Corinthians celebrations of the Lord’s Supper have, apparently, descended into chaos. If we read chapter eleven of the letter, we discover that some of the more well-to-do members of the congregation come to the Church’s Eucharistic celebration with picnic lunches, which they then proceed to eat. Meanwhile, poorer members of the congregation sit nearby with nothing.
Paul certainly had his hands full with the Corinthian congregation.
In response, Paul reminds these early believers that – in order to win some for Christ – it is necessary to seek out some common ground with others. Oneness by virtue of shared, common experience and identity, is the goal, and it is the entryway into building a relationship upon which the Good News (Gospel) can be shared. That’s the entire idea, he says (if we may summarize his argument).
Tracing Paul’s own spiritual journey, we can see the following steps:
  1. God’s common ground with humanity:  God establishes common ground with us by sending Jesus Christ to take up our humanity to the full. In sending Jesus in human flesh and form, we see that Jesus came to fully experience our human existence, sharing in our trials, tribulations, sorrows, disappointments, triumphs, and so forth. Jesus comes to even share in our experience of death.
  2. The world is, therefore, forever changed:  The coming of God in the second person of the Holy Trinity changes the course of human events forever. Now we know, as we look back at the “Christ event”, that God truly and deeply loves each and every one of us.
  3. Paul’s life is forever changed:  Jesus reaches out to Paul as he makes his way toward Damascus, calling out to him, saying, “Saul, Saul (Paul’s former name), why are you persecuting me?” He answers, “Who are you, Lord?” and the Lord replies, “I am Jesus, whom you are persecuting.” We can read two accounts of Paul’s encounter with the Lord in Acts:  9: 1–9 and again in 26: 12–18.
  4. Paul’s radical change of life compels him to share this Good News with others: “Necessity is laid on me” to proclaim the Good News. “Woe to me” if I do not do this, he says.

Now this mantle of proclaiming the Good News has passed to us. Our journey with God parallels Paul’s journey:
  1. We realize that God has established common ground with us in Holy Baptism. God has taken the initiative, reaching out to us in the person of Jesus Christ, just as the Lord reached out to Paul as he made his way toward Damascus. In Baptism, we acknowledge our own helplessness, our own inability to save ourselves, and we accept Christ’s power to rescue, redeem and save us (from ourselves).
  2. Our lives are forever changed as the result of this encounter with Christ.
  3. We are called to proclaim, “By word and deed (as our Baptismal Covenant maintains) the Good News of God in Christ”.
  4. To do this, we find some common ground with all persons, persons who share our humanity, with whom we share the disappointments, trials, tribulations, and triumphs that the human experience inevitably brings.
  5. In all these human experiences, we proclaim that – in Christ – things are different, entirely different, than they were before we came into relationship with God through Christ.


AMEN.