Sunday, November 25, 2018

The Last Sunday after Pentecost – Year B (2018)


Proper 29 :: Daniel 7: 9–10, 13–14 ; Psalm 93; Revelation 1: 4b–8; John 18: 33–37

This is the homily given at St. John’s Church, Huntingdon, Pennsylvania by Fr. Gene R. Tucker on Sunday, November 25, 2018.
 “WHAT KIND OF KING”
We come on this, the last Sunday after Pentecost, to what is commonly known as “Christ the King Sunday”. We celebrate our Lord Jesus Christ as “King of kings and Lord of lords”. (Can’t you hear the “Hallelujah Chorus” from Handel’s Messiah in that phrase?)
(By the way, the old Church Year ends where the new one begins: We honor Christ as King of kings, even as we enter the season of Advent, where we will focus on Christ in His birth as a baby in Bethlehem, but also on His eventual return in glory to sit as judge of the world, He who will be universally acknowledged as King of kings.)
Back to the matter of kings and such….we Americans aren’t comfortable with the idea of monarchies. Not really, anyway. We remain fascinated by the British royal family, even as we wouldn’t want a king or queen of our own. We Americans are proud of our heritage, which did away with all the European royal titles and perquisites.
As we think about Christ as King, it might be good for us to engage in a brief survey of kings (and queens) down through the ages. (The list which appears below isn’t intended to be an exhaustive study of monarchs and monarchies.) There have been, down through history, quite a wide variety of kings, queens and royalty.
As we go, let’s keep in mind the question, “What kind of king would we want?”
Looking into the pages of history, here are some of the kinds of kings people have lived under:
Some have lived under kings who were despots. Kings like that were, for all intents and purposes, dictators. Their way was the only way. There was no give-and-take, no seeking a royal audience in which grievances or petitions might be aired. The king’s word was the only, and usually, the final one. One thinks of the wicked King Ahab in the Old Testament as an example. And often, especially in medieval times, kings like that ruled by what is called the “Divine Right of Kings”.
At other times, some kings have been powerless, impotent. Some of these ineffective monarchs were simply functioning as fronts for a behind-the-scenes power structure that was actually calling the shots. Sometimes in history, such an ineffective monarch has been one who was very young when they ascended to the throne, so that some sort of another ruling mechanism was needed. King Edward VI in England is such an example: He was a child when he became king.
Another example is one of a king who was simply a puppet for another authority. The Herodian dynasty before Jesus’ time and afterward is an example:  The various Herods were simply puppet monarchs who had been installed and maintained by the Romans.
Some kings and queens are figureheads, those who serve as a symbol of the unity and focus of the nation. The British monarchs fall into this category, for they are what is called “Constitutional Monarchs”,[1] a royalty which has certain powers, but which functions within a governmental system that is representative and democratic. (Hope I understand the British system correctly!)
And, last of all, there is the king or the queen who is a servant-leader. That is to say, this sort of a monarch has the best wishes of his/her people at heart, seeking to know what their needs/challenges/desires are, even as they provide leadership and direction for the nation. With this sort of monarch, the servant side of their role informs the leadership side, and vice versa. King James II of England (for whom the King James Version of the Bible is named) might be a good example of this sort of a king.
This last example leads us to Jesus Christ.
In Christ, we see the servant side of His leadership. For He came among us as one of us, taking on to the full our humanity, yes – even to the point of death on the cross[2] – immersing Himself fully in our human experience. And yet, on Easter Sunday morning, we see His leadership. As He rose from the grave, declaring victory over death and the grave, we see His godly power at work.
The resurrection is the proof-positive of the Lord’s kingship, the Lord’s power. Essentially, the power to rise from the dead on Easter Sunday is the power over life and death. It is the power to create and to re-create. That power belongs to God alone, made manifest in Jesus Christ our Lord.
Therefore, He is King of kings, and Lord of lords, the one who possesses all power and the final authority. In the midst of His divine power, He cares for you and for me, seeking to know what are our needs/challenges/desires are, seeking to walk with us in the journey of life.
AMEN.




[1]   The European monarchies that still exist are “Constitutional Monarchies”.
[2]   See Philippians 2: 5 – 11.

Sunday, November 18, 2018

Pentecost 26, Year B (2018)


Proper 28 :: Daniel 12: 1–3; Psalm 16; Hebrews 10: 11–25; Mark 13: 1–8
This is the homily given at St. John’s, Huntingdon, Pennsylvania by Fr. Gene Tucker on Sunday, November 18, 2018.
 “BE FAITHFUL, NO MATTER WHAT”
(Homily texts:  Daniel 12: 1–3 & Mark 13: 1–8)
Be faithful, no matter what! 
We must be getting close to the season of Advent, a time when we get ready to receive our Lord Jesus Christ in His first coming as a babe, born in Bethlehem, and as we wait expectantly for His second coming as Lord and Judge.
Both our Old Testament reading, taken from the Book of Daniel, and our Gospel reading, taken from Mark, chapter, thirteen, speak of a time of trouble and difficulty. The Advent theme of the Lord’s return as judge contains within it this theme of a time of difficulty.
Both our reading from Daniel and our Gospel reading are apocalyptic writings[1]. Biblical scholars attach a subtitle to the Markan passage, calling it the “Little Apocalypse”.[2] The last half of the Book of Daniel is apocalyptic writing, while the first half is set in the time of the Babylonian captivity in the sixth century BC.
Before we look at the purpose of apocalyptic writing, let’s look at the situation and the circumstances of Jesus’ pronouncement about the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem, and at the situation that occasioned the writing of Daniel.
We’ll begin with Jesus’ prediction.
The Second Temple, whose construction began in the reign of King Herod the Great, had been under construction since about the year 20 BC. It more than doubled the size of Solomon’s Temple, which it replaced. When Jesus and His disciples walked through the Temple’s precincts, it was still under construction. It wasn’t finished until about the year 44 AD or so. Then, it existed in its completed state until it was destroyed by the Romans at the conclusion of the Jewish-Roman War in 70 AD.
The Temple’s destruction resulted in the destruction and removal of all of the buildings that sat on the top of the Temple Mount. Today, one can go to Jerusalem and look down over the wall of the Temple Mount and see the first century stone pavement, whose stones were broken as stones were thrown over the wall to the street below. Of course, today the Temple Mount still exists. On top of it today, the buildings are the Dome of the Rock and a mosque. But the enormous size and grandeur of Herod’s design still stir the imagination, for the wall of the Temple Mount is nearly a mile in circumference. Some of its stones are enormous, weighing many tons.
No wonder that Jesus’ disciples wonder at His prediction that the time will come when not a stone will be left upon another. That must have seemed to be an impossible thought to fathom.
But Jesus continues His teaching, saying that there will be “wars and rumors of wars”. This will be a difficult time.
A bit later on in chapter thirteen, Jesus then says this: “The one who endures to the end will be saved. (verse13b)
Let’s turn our attention to our passage from Daniel. Scholars are divided in their opinions about the writing and the writer of the book: Some believe that it was actually written during the time of the Babylonian captivity in the sixth century BC, but that its second half predicts the time of the oppression of God’s people by the Greek-speaking Seleucids in the second century BC, while others believe it arose during that awful time
Whatever the true answer might be, the bottom line remains the same: Those whom God loves will be saved by Him in the final accounting of things. So, the message to be gleaned from reading Daniel is:  Be faithful, no matter what.
There, we read that there will be a time of trouble such as the world has never seen. But, as Jesus says in our Gospel text, God will deliver those whose names are written in the book[3]
The message and the purpose of apocalyptic writing seems to be this:  Be faithful, no matter what.
We live in a difficult and challenging time. Uncertainty abounds. Change is everywhere. Life often seems unpredictable. We live in a violent age, one in which innocent persons’ lives are snuffed out by acts of violence, or by natural disasters or by wars and conflict.
Even in the Church, trouble abounds, and it seems as though there is little to be confident about as we look ahead at the future of God’s people who are disciples of Jesus.
And yet, in all these challenges and difficulties and troubles, God assures us that nothing will ever separate us from the love of God which is found in Jesus Christ, as St. Paul writes in his letter to the Romans, chapter eight. And, we know from Matthew 16: 18 account that the Church will also endure until the end of all things.
So, no matter what, we are called to be faithful.
AMEN.


[1]   The word “apocalypse” comes to us from the Greek, where it literally means “unveiling”. Its meaning is usually rendered in English as “revelation”, as in the Book of Revelation, the last book in the New Testament, which is often referred to as the “Apocalypse”.
[2]   The material we read in the  thirteenth chapter of Mark is also to be found in Matthew 24: 1 - 8, and in Luke 21: 5 – 9.
[3]   I commend to your further study the Book of Revelation, for much of the symbolism which is found in Daniel also appears there.


Sunday, November 11, 2018

Pentecost 25, Year B (2018) – Remembrance Sunday


II Maccabees 12: 43 – 45; I Thessalonians 4: 13 – 18; John 11: 21 – 27
This is the homily given at Grace & St. Peter’s Church in Baltimore, Maryland by Fr. Gene Tucker on Sunday, November 11, 2018.  This homily was given on the occasion of the 100th anniversary of the end of World War I.
“IT WAS THE BEST OF TIMES, IT WAS THE WORST OF TIMES”
(Homily texts:  II Maccabees 12: 43 – 45, I Thessalonians 4: 13–18 & John 11: 21–27)
“It was the best of times; it was the worst of times.” So wrote Charles Dickens in his novel, “The Tale of Two Cities” fifty-some years before the onset of World War I, a conflict that was known (primarily before World War II) as the “Great War” (not because that war was wonderful – it wasn’t – but because of its enormous size and scope). World War I was also known as the “War to End all Wars”, which it certainly didn’t:  Historians tell us that the seeds for World War II, which began about twenty years after the end of the first war, were sown in the outcomes of the First World War.
As we think about this conflict, it might be good if we would step back into history a little to recount some of the things about the First World War that were good, that is, the “best of times” (for indeed, there were some things about it that were good). And we would do well to remember those things about the war that were horrible, the “worst of times”, for there was much that was simply awful.
To set the stage for our journey back 100 years or more, I’d like to begin by telling a true story which might shed some light on our perspectives today about World War I.
On the 75th anniversary of the end of the war, in 1993, the U. S. Army Chorus, of which I was then a member, took part in a ceremony marking the end of the Great War. In attendance were a number of veterans of that first war, all of whom were then in their 90s. They were seated (some in wheelchairs) along the front row of the audience. The guest speaker on that occasion was an Assistant Deputy Undersecretary of Defense. As the remarks began, the speaker looked on those veterans seated in the front row and said something like, “We owe a tremendous debt of gratitude to you veterans of World War II.” Almost immediately, these nonagenarians raised their canes and their hands and said (loudly) “World War I”. “My apologies,” the speaker said. We in the Chorus were amused, though we tried not to show it. On the speaker went, and a little later, he said it again, “And so we honor you veterans of World War II.” Once again, these veterans raised their canes and their hands to say (louder this time), “World War I”! With this second mistake, there was audible laughter.
Twenty five years later, this incident still evokes a smile. But beyond the humor involved, there is a deeper truth: World War I has been largely overshadowed by the much larger, much more deadly conflict which took place from 1939 – 1945. Perhaps we focus on World War II so much because many of our parents (and maybe even some of us here this morning) were veterans of that war. The world we live in today has been shaped by the experiences of World War II. But the world we live in has also been shaped by the outcomes of World War I.
Let’s go back in time, then, to the time of the Great War.
As the war began in July, 1914, no doubt many in Europe thought it was the “best of times”: After all, Europe had been at peace for forty-three years, since the conclusion of the Franco-Prussian War in 1871. That period of time was known as “La Belle Epoque” (the beautiful epoch). It was a time of complacency and a time of belief that human society was destined to experience continual and uninterrupted progress.
However, the notion that human beings could solve any and all problems was shattered. Two events served to remind us human beings that we didn’t know everything, and that we were still capable of making huge mistakes. The first event that removed the blinders was the sinking of the HRMS Titanic in April, 1912. Then, just over two years later, World War I began.
The truth is that, during that period of time prior to the start of the First War, there was a lot going on that, once the war began, would prove to the world that modern warfare creates the “worst of times”. For example, long range, highly accurate artillery had been perfected. In World War I, it was artillery that caused the greatest number of casualties. The perfection of the machine gun contributed to the deadliness of modern warfare. The invention and use of aircraft also contributed to the deadliness of combat, for aircraft were used to direct artillery fires, and they were used for bombing and in dogfights.
Beyond the advances in weaponry, there were simmering animosities at work among the European powers: France longed to get revenge on the Germans for their experience in the Franco-Prussian War, and to regain territories lost to the Germans. The Germans were convinced of the military superiority of the Prussian military. These are but two examples. Added to these animosities is the fact that much of Europe was interconnected by treaties that, once conflict began, dragged the nations into the war, one-by-one.
Once hostilities broke out, the warring nations expected that the conflict would be the ‘best of times”, a short, relatively easy victory.
Instead, the war became the “worst of times”.
Some sixty million served in the militaries of the warring nations. Of that number, between eight and ten million were killed (this only an estimate…..the true number may never be known.). Another seven million were permanently disabled, while fifteen million were seriously injured. If you’re keeping score, those numbers add up to about one half of the total number who served. Some nations fared worse than others: Germany lost about two million killed and four million disabled, constituting about fifteen per cent of its active male population. In Austria, seventeen per cent were casualties, and in France, the number was about ten per cent. In Russia, the totals of killed, wounded, disabled or captured amounted to almost three-quarters of the total force.
Though the United States entered the war late, in April, 1917, over four million served, of whom three million were draftees. Our country’s losses in the war were about fifty three thousand killed, sixty five thousand who died of disease, and another two hundred thousand or so who were wounded or disabled. The U. S. took a leading role in the last offensive, the one that brought the war to an end, the Meuse-Argonne Offensive, which lasted from late September, 1918 until the Armistice on November 11, 2018. In those forty seven days of fighting the U. S. lost 26,000 killed and 117,000 casualties, out of a total of 1.2 million who were involved.
The Gross Domestic Product of the nations on the losing side declined between thirty and forty per cent. It is estimated that, in Russia at the conclusion of the war, and during the time of the Russian Revolution which grew out of the war, between 4.5 – 7 million children were homeless.
All of these numbers are staggering.
Man’s inhumanity to man was on full display. Our ability to create was turned toward the business of destruction.
Indeed, it was the “worst of times”, for the world had never seen such widespread conflict:  We think most often of the European theater of operations, but we would do well to remember that there was fighting in the Holy Land, in the Judean hills and around Jerusalem, and in the Sinai Peninsula. There was also military activity in the Far East.
Despite all this grim news, there are some things to say about World War I that constitute the “best of times”.
For example, the United States took the lead in improving care for the wounded. Volunteers from our country set up hospitals in France. One was called the American Ambulance Hospital, located in Paris. American doctors, nurses and staff there worked to save lives. We also organized motorized ambulances (some were based on Model T Fords) into something called the American Ambulance Field Service so that wounded soldiers could be transported to field hospitals more quickly. By the end of the first year of the war, about 100 ambulances were in service, all funded by private donations. Harvard University had 55 men involved in driving ambulances, 21 of whom were killed. By the end of the war, 48 universities had personnel involved, totaling 2,500. Many lives were saved as a result.
Doctors realized the dangers of infections that made their way into the body through wounds. So antiseptic solutions were developed that were more effective in combating infections. (We would do well to recall that antibiotics such as penicillin hadn’t been invented yet.) Surgical techniques involving facial injuries were improved. Better use of anesthetics helped with surgeries. Our own Johns Hopkins School of Medicine was involved in some of these developments.
Of these efforts, and American doctor, Mary Merritt Crawford (the only woman doctor to serve in the early efforts to help the wounded) wrote, “A war benefits medicine more than it benefits anybody else. It’s terrible, of course, but it does.”
The Red Cross engaged in various kinds of relief work, and worked to ensure that prisoners-of-war were cared for.
Millions here at home served faithfully, including those who were drafted. Many women took jobs in factories and elsewhere to fill vacancies left by men who had left to serve in the military. Following the war, relief organizations worked to care for widows and orphaned children.
These efforts didn’t eradicate the horrors of the war, but they do show the best side of humanity.
As Christians, what might we say about the First World War, or – for that matter – any and all wars?
One truth that emerges is that we human beings are created in the image and likeness of God, as we read in Genesis 1: 26–27. That means that we are endowed with the gifts of memory, reason and skill.
We are gifted with the ability to remember, to look back, to reflect. It is important, on this 100th anniversary of the end of the Great War, to look back and to see what made it the “worst of times”. How did the combatant nations blunder into such a calamity, a calamity – as best as we can describe it – that was one without an overarching purpose? In the midst of such an awful time, we can also remember and give thanks for those who served, those who lost their lives, those who were disabled, and those who, like the staff of the American Ambulance Field Service and the American Ambulance Hospital, worked to put the broken pieces of soldiers’ lives back together again.
We are endowed with the gift of reason: We can look at a situation or situations and figure out how the pieces that are involved fit together. We respect to the causes of war, this is the gift of wisdom. We do well – as we reflect on World War I – to apply wisdom to our assessment of what was ill-advised and what was not.
We are supplied with skill. In World War I, the skill we human beings possess was used for destructive purposes, but also for constructive ones. May we receive the wisdom to know the difference and to seek to apply ourselves to the use of our skills to improve the lives of others.
Our appointed lectionary readings for this morning point to the great hope of the resurrection of the dead. As our Lord rose again victorious over death on Easter Sunday morning, so too do we believe in this wonderful promise. For as the Prayer Book says, “Life is changed, not ended.” Those who rest in Christ await the time when new life will emerge.
A voice from World War I is that of Wilfred Owen, a British soldier and poet who was killed one week before the Armistice took effect. He was 25 years old. Many of his poems are well known and are still widely read. This one, entitled, “At a Calvary near the Ancre” was used in Benjamin Britten’s oratorio, the “War Requiem”. If you are familiar with the War Requiem, you’ll recall that Owen’s poem is interspersed with the Agnus Dei of the Requiem Mass. Own’s poem describes the scene of a crucifix that stands near a road crossing. One of its limbs is missing, blown off by an artillery shell. Here is its text:  
One ever hangs where shelled roads part.
In this war He too lost a limb,
But His disciples hide apart;
And now the Soldiers bear with Him.

Near Golgotha strolls many a priest,
And in their faces there is pride
That they were flesh-marked by the Beast
By whom the gentle Christ's denied.

The scribes on all the people shove
And bawl allegiance to the state,
But they who love the greater love
Lay down their life; they do not hate.

Agnus Dei, qui tollis peccata mundi, dona eis requiem sempiternam.

Lamb of God, that takest away the sin of the world, grant them rest eternal.

Amen.


Sunday, November 04, 2018

All Saints’ Sunday, Year B (2018)


Proper 25 :: Wisdom of Solomon 3: 1–9; Psalm 24; Revelation 21: 1–6a; John 11: 32–44

This is the homily given at St. John’s, Huntingdon, Pennsylvania by Fr. Gene Tucker on Sunday, November 4, 2018.
“SAINTHOOD: A MATTER OF REFLECTED LIGHT”
About a week and a half ago, on October 24th, we were treated to a full moon. (I think this occurrence of this full moon is called the “hunter’s moon”.)[1] Fortunately for us here in central Pennsylvania, the weather for most of that entire week was wonderful:  Crisp, clear autumn air, with not many clouds and very little rain, so we were able to enjoy the developing full moon and its waning afterward.
As I began to think about All Saints’ Sunday, I thought about the ways in which being a saint is a matter of reflected light, just like the moon. What follows here is a reflection on saints and sainthood, using the moon as the starting point:
Reflected light:  No matter how brightly the moon might shine as it turns its face fully toward earth during its full phase, the truth is that the moon has no light of its own. It merely reflects light that is coming from the sun.
In the same way, a saint is a person whose orientation is toward the light of God. A saint can’t claim any holiness or righteousness of their own, for the saint’s holiness and righteousness comes solely from God.
At times in Christian history, some have tried to claim that, because we human beings are created in the “image and likeness of God”, [2] we can attain holiness on our own efforts. (The 4th and 5th century British monk, Pelagius, made such claims, which the Church rejected.) Some parts of the Christian community continue to adhere to the idea that, in this life, we can attain complete and total holiness.
The reality of Original Sin (about which St. Augustine of Hippo had much to say in the 4th and 5th centuries) undercuts any notion that we can boost ourselves up the ladder of holiness on our own merits and efforts.
No, any measure of holiness that a saint exhibits is entirely a matter of reflection, reflection of God’s holiness and God’s action in that saint’s life.
The dark side:  The moon has a side which never faces the sun.
In a similar way, the wise saint acknowledges the presence of a dark side of human life. We all have such a side to our composition as human beings. In some, the dark side is quite prominent, in others, the dark side is still present, but is diminished in size. It is God’s working which can tame and control this unruly aspect of being human. (Here our analogy which uses the moon as an example breaks down a bit.)
Reflected light for the benefit of the world:  The moon’s reflected light, shining in its most wonderful way during its full phase, reflects the light of the sun for the benefit of the earth.
In like manner, the saint’s reflected light isn’t to show forth God’s glory alone (as important as that aspect of the saint’s holiness is), but it is for the benefit of the world.
The saint’s orientation is two-fold: toward the source of light, God, and toward the world which God loves and for which God sent His Son.
Acknowledging the reality of partial or obstructed light:  Just as the moon doesn’t orient itself toward the earth in full phase all the time, so too, we will have to admit, the reality is that a saint doesn’t always reflect the light of God fully and completely.
Using the moon as an example, let’s look at some this reality, which has to do with the dark side of our humanity:
·         Phases of the moon, phases in the saint’s life: The moon, because its rotation is the same length of time as its orbit, is always oriented toward the earth in the same way. A saint doesn’t have that concern to deal with, but the wise and discerning saint is aware of the possibility that their life won’t always fully reflect God’s light in the world. At times, God’s light will be seen only faintly. At other times, it may be brighter, even as it isn’t what it should be, a full and perfect transmission of God’s light.
·         God’s light, blocked:  The moon, on occasion, doesn’t receive the light of the sun. That’s because the sun’s light is blocked by the earth, which has come between the sun and the moon. Such events are spectacular, often prompting people to travel long distances to experience the event. The saint can enter into periods of time when the cares and values of the world can eclipse, can block, God’s light.
This All Saints’ Sunday offers us the opportunity to reflect on the lives of the saints we have known. Perhaps, as we think about them, we might appreciate those times when they fully reflected God’s light in the world. We might also think of times when the light of those saints shone only in part, not in whole. And as we think about that inevitable aspect of being fully human, we might also think about the causes for such an impaired reflection of God’s light. Then, we can give thanks for those saints’ recovery of God’s light as they entered fully into their calling as saints of God.
Finally, we might apply that same reflection to our own lives, as much as we are able to do so clearly, for the truth is that we ourselves will reflect God’s light fully and effectively only part of the time, not all of the time. At times, our witness to the light of God will be partial. At other times, it might be eclipsed entirely.
Come Holy Spirit, therefore, and enable us to fully reflect the light of God in the world.
AMEN.

[1]  The hunter’s moon is the first full moon that occurs after the harvest moon in late September or early October.
[2]  See Genesis 1: 26 – 27.