The Eve of the Nativity – Christmas Eve – Year A (2022)

Isaiah 9:2 – 7
Psalm 96
Titus 2:11 – 14
Luke 2:1 – 20

This is the homily given at St. John’s, Huntingdon, Pennsylvania on Saturday, December 24, 2022 by Fr. Gene Tucker.

 

 “PASSING IT ALONG”

(Homily text: Luke 2: 1 – 20)

Once upon a time, as the church service was ending, and the altar call was given to those in attendance, a man came forward, raised his arms, and said, “Lord, just fill me up, just fill be up!” This went on for awhile, the man continuing to say, “Lord, fill me up, just fill me up!”, until a woman sitting in the front pew said, quite loudly, “Yes, Lord, fill him up! He sure does leak!”

(Hope this little story brings a smile to your face.)

In all seriousness, though, being a “leaky” Christian isn’t a bad thing. In fact, if we think about it, it’s a required thing.

Perhaps an explanation is in order:

At Christmastime, we celebrate God’s great gift in the sending of His Son to take up our humanity. God “got in the trenches” of human life and existence as He came in the person of Jesus. That eternal God, the One who made the heavens and the earth and all that is in them, came in the person of the second person of the Holy Trinity, the One we call the “Christ”. (Yes, I’m getting a little theological here.) Put another way, God’ cared enough about the world’s welfare and the betterment of the people living in it that He chose to send the very best: Himself.

Christmas is, therefore, all about gifts and gift-giving. (Indeed, the realization that God gave the best gift He could give to humanity is the basis for our own gift-giving at Christmastime…because God gave an immense gift to us, we, in turn, give gifts to others.)

God’s gift-giving isn’t meant to be some theoretical abstraction, some set of ideas that we think about. Though thinking about God’s great gift, given at Christmastime, is important, and though it’s important for us to learn more and more about God’s nature and God’s will for our lives, merely thinking about these things isn’t the goal of God’s gift-giving.

The goal we are challenged to meet is to come to an intense, personal, one-on-one love relationship with God through Christ. This means that the journey is an inward one, into our very innermost self, into our minds, our hearts, and our very souls.

When we take that journey, we come to realize more and more fully that God’s essential nature is to be generous with His love. If we can return to the little story with which we began (above), we can say that God’s desire is to “fill us up”. God’s desire is to fill us up to overflowing with meaning, with love, with an awareness of how precious we are to Him. There is no fuller or more complete basis for a healthy way of living than to be in such a relationship with God.

But this transfer of divine love and attention isn’t meant to end there. As we receive God’s love, attention, and direction, we are called – in turn – to leak a little, or to leak a lot, allowing the healing waters of God’s love to flow out into the relationships with have with others. We are required to share what we have received at God’s hand. As we do so in response to God’s command, God will see to it that we are refilled with more and deeper love and a more intense relationship with that One who created us and who loves us deeply and intensely.

In this intensely personal way, God’s kingdom comes into being, one Christian believer “leaking” out God’s love from themselves into the lives of others, a direct transfer of God’s healing waters from God to each believer, to another person.

AMEN.

  

Advent 4, Year A (2022)

Isaiah 7: 10 - 16

Psalm 80: 1 – 7, 16 – 18

Romans 1: 1 – 7

Matthew 1: 18 – 25

This is the homily given at St. John’s, Huntingdon, Pennsylvania on Sunday, December 18, 2022 by Fr. Gene Tucker.

 

“NECESSARY SUPPORTING ROLES”

(Homily text:  Matthew 1: 18 – 25)

One of the great mysteries of life is the reality that God, that great, almighty God whom we worship and adore, chooses to work with human beings to carry out His plans and purposes for the world. (Not that I’m complaining, you understand…it’s an awesome thought to realize that we matter to God, and that God uses us human beings – normal, everyday human beings like Joseph and Mary – to be the agents by which He works.)

This morning, then, we are treated to Matthew’s account of God’s working with Joseph, Mary’s soon-to-be-husband, as God lays plans to intervene in human affairs directly through the birth of Jesus.

Given the circumstances of the society of the day and its expectations, Mary’s unanticipated pregnancy posed some real challenges – yes, even dangers - for both Joseph and for Mary. For, in those days and in those times, one did not become pregnant without the benefit of marriage.[1] To find oneself in such circumstances was to bring dishonor and shame to oneself and to one’s family. Matthew takes care to tell us about Joseph’s own struggle with the implications of Mary’s situation (see Matthew 1: 19).

It’s clear that God had work to do with Joseph to get him ready to assume the role that he would play in providing for and protecting Mary and the infant Jesus. (God also had work to do in getting Mary ready for her role in this divine drama. That is the focus of Luke’s account of Jesus’ birth…see Luke 1: 26 – 38.)

Joseph’s role in Jesus’ birth and growing-up years was indispensable to God plan. For it would fall to Joseph to be the financial supporter of Mary and Jesus, and to be their protector, particularly as they are forced to flee from King Herod’s wrath (see Matthew 2: 13 – 15).

But, the question with which we began is still before us: Why does God choose to work with and alongside human beings, often, normal, everyday human beings, people who are – in the world’s estimation of their importance – of little account? I’m not sure I can answer that question, for it is one which is bound up in the mysteries of God, one that we will have to wait to receive an answer to when we see God in eternity.

The inescapable truth is, however, that God does choose to work through and with people.

God chooses to work through and with you and me. By virtue of our coming to an intimate, intense, lively and personal faith relationship with God, we are fitted out to be ready to do whatever God has in mind for us, so that His will and His purposes in the world can unfold. Essentially, that’s the story of both Joseph and Mary, for they both said “yes” to God’s invitation to be part of His plan for the saving of the world. (Mind you, each of them could have declined the invitation, and we shouldn’t look down on them if they had, for there was great personal danger to each of them, given the situation, as we examined a moment ago.)

We know from Matthew’s description that Joseph seemed to struggle with God’s call. In the fulness of time, God intervened to make clear to him just what God was doing, and what his role in God’s plan would be. We don’t know how long Joseph struggled with the challenges he faced, though I think we can be sure that there was some passage of time until God intervened to clarify the situation.

One final observation is in order: If God calls us to do something in order for His will and His plan to come into being, God can – and often does – keep after us until we grasp the nature and the scope of God’s plan. God can be quite a pest, if need be. We need to be prepared for that, and come to the realization that it is in our best interest to say, along with Joseph and Mary, that we are ready to be God’s instruments for the advancement of God’s kingdom in the world.

AMEN.

 

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[1]   The rules by which society operated in those times dictated that a marriage would be preceded by an engagement. But an engagement, though it was as legally binding as a marriage, and though it could be broken only by a divorce proceeding, did not permit the procreation of children.

 

Advent 3, Year A (2022)

Isaiah 35: 1 – 10
Psalm 146: 4 - 9
James 5: 7 – 10
Matthew 11: 2 – 11

This is the homily given at St. John’s, Huntingdon, Pennsylvania, on Sunday, December 11, 2022, by Fr. Gene Tucker.

 

“THE GIVER OF GIFTS”

John the Baptist, in our Gospel reading for this morning, sends some of his disciples to ask Jesus, “Are you the one who is to come, or shall we look for another?”

It would be difficult to peek into John’s thinking to see just what sort of a concept he had about the promised One who would be God’s gift to God’s people. But, I think, we might come to some fairly good conclusions as to what John’s concept of the promised One might be.

Here are some possibilities: Would the promised One be the one to unite all of God’s people, who were, in that day and time, quite divided? Would the promised One be the one to end the Romans’ occupation of the nation’s territory? Would that One be the one to re-establish David’s royal line of kings? Would that One be the one to usher in a new and glorious age for God’s people, and would such a new age be an earthly kingdom that would restore God’s people to their former glory?

Each of these concepts seem to have had a good bit of circulation among God’s people at the time of John the Baptist’s ministry, that same time in which our Lord came to visit us. It isn’t beyond the realm of possibility that John was influenced by one or more of these concepts of the nature of the Messiah, God’s promised One.

But -as is often the case – Jesus’ response to John’s question seems to sidestep the answer John is looking for. His answer is an indirect one, diverting the attention away from Himself and toward something else.

That something else is the proof, the observable proof, of the things that Jesus has been doing in the course of His ministry. The list Jesus provides John is this: The blind receive their sight; the lame walk; lepers are cleansed; the deaf hear; the dead are raised up; and the poor have good news preached to them.

At first glance, this list seems like a list of good deeds, done to restore to health and to life those who were severely afflicted.

But there’s something deeper going on here: Each of the conditions having to do with someone’s health carried with it – in that time and place – ostracization from society and exclusion from being able to offer sacrifices in the Temple in Jerusalem. In addition, each of these health conditions, as well as the matter of being poor, were regarded with contempt, for – as many believed back then – to be ill or to be poor must surely be an indication that the afflicted individual was in their predicament because of some grievous sin. Such people were to be looked down upon and avoided.

Jesus’ actions restore these people to wholeness, not only of health, but to their rightful place in society, to family and to friends.

Here, then, is the deeper, more lasting, gift to those on the margins of society. It is a far greater gift than the earthly sort of kingdom that many dreamed of back then, far greater than the new era of independence that removal of the Romans would bring about.

That wonderful gift proves God’s love and care for each and every individual. No one is a “throwaway” in God’s scheme of things. Each person’s worth is God’s concern. Out of such concern, God eagerly seeks to have a deep, enduring, intense personal relationship with each and every human being.

Jesus’ gift endures today. It is a gift, freely given, but costly to God. To accept such a gift is to have life in the truest and fullest sense of the word. Just as lives were changed by virtue of Jesus’ healing acts and His ability to bring new life, so, today, are lives changed, that new life can emerge.

AMEN. 

Advent 2, Year A (2022)

Isaiah 11: 1 – 10
Psalm 72: 1 – 7, 18 – 19
Romans 15: 4 – 15
Matthew 3:1 – 12  

This is the homily given at St. John’s, Huntingdon, Pennsylvania on Sunday, December 4, 2022, by Fr. Gene Tucker.

 

 “TO AFFLICT THE COMFORTABLE”

(Homily text: Matthew 3: 1 – 12)

It’s been said that the preacher’s job is to “afflict the comfortable and to comfort the afflicted”. As I reflect on my years as a priest and as a preacher, I believe that description of any worthwhile preacher’s calling is right on the mark.

This Second Sunday of Advent might well be called “John the Baptist Sunday”, for on this Sunday in the Church Year, we hear an account of John the Baptist’s work out in the wilderness, calling God’s people to genuine repentance, and therefore, into a true, lasting and fulfilling relationship with God.

John’s message afflicts the comfortable. Consider his words: “You brood of vipers! Who warned you to flee from the wrath that is to come?” His words are aimed at the Sadducees and the Pharisees who had come out to the banks of the Jordan River to check out what he was doing.

If ever there was a group of those who thought they were among the “comfortable” ones, it would be the Pharisees and the Sadducees. The Pharisees were a lay group, dedicated to the rigorous observance of even the smallest details of the Law of Moses (Torah). They were proud of their accomplishments and the resulting prominent place in society they enjoyed. The Sadducees were the Temple priests, the highest of the three orders of priests, those who served in the Temple.

But these two groups had some significant differences. For one thing, the Pharisees accepted the authority of not only the first five books of the Hebrew scriptures, those attributed to Moses’ authorship, but they also accepted the authority of the writings of the prophets. Moreover, they also accepted the realization of the possibility of resurrection. The Sadducees, on the other hand, rejected the authority of the prophets’ writings and also the idea of resurrection.

But here they are, in league with one another, checking out what this good-guy-gone-astray, John the Baptizer, was doing, hanging out with the troublemakers in the wilderness. (It’s possible, though we don’t know for sure, that some of the Sadducees had known John as he was growing up, for John’s father served in the Temple.)

These two groups were secure in their identities, and especially, in their importance in God’s view of things. They were children of Abraham, heirs of God’s promises. They were righteous, strict keepers of God’s holy laws. They were invested in the highest levels of society. They’d earned their rightful place in the scheme of things.

But John cuts through all of these layers of self-importance and self-identity, saying, “Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our father’, for I tell you, God is able from these stones to raise up children for Abraham”.

John’s words are meant to “afflict the comfortable”, and to tear away the layers of insulation that protected these self-made people from the heat of God’s judgment.

But is there any comfort in John’s message?

Indeed, there is.

John’s work offered a true, lasting and enduring foundation for a relationship with God. That foundation rests on the reality that it must begin by digging down into the deepest layers of our hearts and minds, to the place where we realize that we have nothing to offer God but ourselves, in our fallen and sinful state. John’s message is that such a beginning is, in reality, a self-emptying process, just the opposite of what the Pharisees and the  Sadducees were all about.

John’s message and work centered around a baptism, a fall into the waters of the Jordan River, acknowledging our own spiritual filth, which – if we are willing to open up and admit – is our true condition, absent all its attempts to dress up and to cover its essential nature.

Baptism reminds us of our own helplessness. It is a beginning which starts with nothing and winds up with everything. It mirrors our Lord’s own self-emptying, by which He set aside His own place at the right hand of the Father to come and to take up our humanity to the full.

Dear friends, the comfort in John’s work and message is this: God seeks us out, desiring above all things a personal, ongoing, deep and passionate relationship with each one of us. What great, good news. But the initiative in this wonderful relationship is God’s, not ours. All we can offer, all we can do, is to respond in the words of the Old Testament prophet Isaiah, “Here I am, Lord.”

AMEN. 

Advent 1, Year A (2022)

This is the homily given at St. John’s, Huntingdon, Pennsylvania on Sunday, November 27, 2022 by Fr. Gene Tucker.

“CHANGES”

(Homily texts:  Isaiah 2: 1 – 5, Romans 13: 11 – 14 & Matthew 24: 36 – 44)

With the beginning of the new Church Year, bringing with it a change into the season of Advent, a time when we are called to awaken (reawaken) our senses, to expect changes as God breaks into our world, our three appointed readings for this morning, each one of them, outlines a change.

Let’s explore each one.

We should begin with Matthew’s record of Jesus’ pronouncement having to do with God’s eventual breaking into the world, bringing with it enormous change. “Two women will be grinding at the mill, one will be taken, and the other left,” He says. “Two men will be in the field, one will be taken and the other left.” These two statements indicate an earth-shattering change, when people are engaged in everyday pursuits, only to be separated one from another as God’s call intervenes.

It would be prudent for us to put a context around this passage, for it begins with the Lord’s statement, saying, “But concerning that day and hour, no one knows, not even the angels of heaven, nor the Son, but the Father only.” Then, a bit later on, we are told that the context is the coming of the Son of Man.

The context then, is a description of God’s final purposes for the world as we know it now. Indeed, biblical scholars have described this passage as a “Little Apocalypse”, an apocalypse being an “unveiling” (its original meaning) by which some of God’s intent is revealed to us.[1] The events described here lie sometime in the future, in God’s time and in God’s way of acting. We can’t be entirely sure about the details.

Now, let’s turn our attention to Isaiah’s vision, received from God in the eighth century BC. Isaiah describes a vision of a future time of peace, when God’s presence (represented by the Holy Mountain in Jerusalem) will be the focal point for all the peoples and nations of the world. Whatever divisions had existed before God’s sovereignty over all things was made know, now, all these former things have passed away, and God is now in all and above all things. Such a state, like God’s intent for His final purposes, lies sometime in the future.

What are we to do in the everyday world we live in? St. Paul gives us some good advice. We can summarize it this way: “Once you have come to Christ, your behavior must change. You must put away the things you used to do, for now you belong to Christ, you are no longer yours, but Christ’s”. I think that’s a fair way to summarize Paul’s call to a radical conversion.

A radical conversion. Conversion means change. It means, when we think about coming to faith in God through Christ, a radical change from the inside of our ourselves to the outside. It means a total surrender to God’s will and God’s way. In essence, coming to faith forces us to realize that such a new way of being is something we cannot achieve on our own power, we are in need of the Holy Spirit’s power to bring about such a change. What we are talking about here is a radically different way of being, something that goes far beyond and far deeper than accepting a set of principles, or ideas. For, in truth, the Son of Man (Jesus) will come at the fulfillment of all things. But he also comes to us, day in and day out, requiring us to be prepared to greet Him and to allow Him an entrance into our hearts, minds and souls.

This Advent season puts before us a question: “Are we ready for the changes that God’s radical call places before us?”

AMEN.

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[1]   There are parallel passages in Mark and in Luke, but they are shorter than Matthew’s account. 

The Last Sunday after Pentecost (Christ the King Sunday) Year C (2022)

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

This is the homily given at St. John’s, Huntingdon, Pennsylvania on November 20, 2022 by Fr. Gene Tucker.

 

“THE END OF THE KINGDOM, OR JUST THE BEGINNING?”

(Homily text: Luke 23: 33 – 43)

At first glance, the choice of our appointed Gospel reading for this Sunday might seem to be a bit strange: After all, as this Church Year draws to a close with this Sunday, which is called “Christ the King Sunday”, shouldn’t we be reading and hearing some of Jesus’ statements about His eventual return in glory, things that we might read in John’s Gospel account, for example, statements like, “…if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, that where I am, you may be also.” (John 14:3) Instead, our appointed reading is the account of the conversation between Jesus and the two thieves that were crucified with Him on Good Friday.

On the surface, this choice doesn’t seem to make much sense, not until we read far enough to hear Jesus say to the thief who repented, “Today, you will be with me in Paradise[1].”

Ah. What the Lord is saying, in essence, might be this: “This isn’t the end of things, though it may look like it now. There’s more to the life of the kingdom that will follow, and you will be part of it.” I think that’s a fair way to recast what the Lord said.

From a purely human point-of-view, there isn’t much hope for any of these three victims, hanging on crosses. They will all be dead within a short time. Their lives will cease to exist. There won’t be any kingdom, not by this reckoning.

The events of Easter Sunday morning change all that. The Lord’s rising from the tomb, with his physical body completely intact, is God’s declaration of victory over that great and final enemy, death. The Lord now shows us that He has power over all things, and the power to take to Himself anyone who comes to Him in faith, as that thief on the cross did on Good Friday.

The kingdom that began with the Lord’s coming to us as a baby, born in Bethlehem, ushered in the first chapter in the accounts of the coming of the kingdom. It breaks into our human condition quietly. It grows, one person at a time, as each one, individually, comes to faith in what God is doing in the sending of His Son.

Now, the kingdom’s second chapter begins to unfold, as the Lord is nailed to a cross on Good Friday. No doubt His enemies, who conspired with Pontius Pilate to have Him eliminated, thought that first chapter was over and done with. Not so. Jesus rises from the dead, ushering in the second chapter in the coming of the kingdom. Now, this kingdom will spread over all the earth, and its citizens will be people of varying ethnicities and racial groups. This kingdom will no longer be bound to the confines of the Holy Land, nor will its citizens be those of Jewish birth.

In time, this kingdom’s concluding chapter will come to be, as the Lord returns in power and great glory, and everyone on earth when this event takes place will see it and will understand its meaning and importance.

For that day, we watch, hope and pray. For that day, we prepare by faithful living and faithful witnessing to God’s power to bring the kingdom into being, one person, one heart, one mind, at a time.

AMEN.[2]

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[1]   It might be a good idea to understand how the word “Paradise” is used in Scripture. In II Corinthians 12:4, St. Paul (probably speaking of himself) describes being caught up into the third heaven, into God’s presence, in Paradise. Then, in Revelation 2:7, Paradise is described in terms that are reminiscent of the description of the Garden of Eden, with its Tree of Life (see Genesis 2:9). So Paradise seems to be a place of refreshment and blessedness where God dwells.

[2]   It’s no accident, I believe, that the themes that have been described here, the Lord’s first coming as a babe, born in Bethlehem, and His eventual Second Coming in power and great glory, form the two major themes of the coming season of Advent.

Pentecost 23, Year C (2022)

Proper 28 :: Malachi 4: 1 – 2a / Psalm 98 / II Thessalonians 3: 6 – 13 / Luke 21: 5 - 19

This is the homily given at St. John’s, Huntingdon, Pennsylvania on Sunday, November 13, 2022 by by Fr. Gene Tucker.

 

“WORSHIPING WHAT WE CAN SEE, OR SOMETHING WE CANNOT SEE”

(Homily text: Luke 21: 5 – 19)

In this morning’s Gospel reading, we become observers as Jesus and His disciples make their way through the precincts of the Temple in Jerusalem. The disciples marvel at what they see, the large stones, the magnificence of the place, the display of its noble stones and offerings. It must’ve seemed so permanent, so indestructible.

But Jesus brings them up short, saying that the time will come when “not one stone will be left upon another that won’t be thrown down.”

At its very most basic level, what is at play in the interchange between the Lord and His disciples is a matter of what can be seen and be experienced, versus larger, more intangible, but more durable realities.

That Temple, whose construction had begun under King Herod the Great in about the year 20 BC, had, by the time of this conversation, advanced far enough to be a source of Jewish pride and identity. Indeed, judging from the size of the platform (known as the Temple Mount), which encompassed an area of about thirty-three acres, the temple buildings themselves, which sat atop the platform, must’ve been impressive[1]. We do know that the construction of the Temple had advanced enough that the Holy of Holies had been built atop the Temple Mount, for its curtain was torn in two at the time of Jesus’ death on Good Friday. (The Temple’s construction would not be complete until the year 66 AD.)

Jesus’ prediction of the Temple’s destruction came to pass in the year 70 AD, during the Jewish-Roman War[2]. During its destruction, the temple buildings themselves were destroyed, leaving only the Temple Mount, which survives today.

Let’s return to something we said a moment ago, that business which has to do with focusing on what is visible and can be experienced, versus more intangible, but more durable, realities.

The disciples seemed to be caught up in the magnificence and the grandeur of the temple complex. It must have, as we said a moment ago, seemed to be so permanent and so durable. Except it wasn’t.

What endured is the sober matter of God’s judgment on human behavior which replaces the honor due to God with something else. What we’re talking about here is idolatry, being defined as anything that displaces God’s place of honor with something else that we might value or worship. The picture of God’s chosen people at the time of our Lord’s earthly ministry isn’t a completely good one, for, as the ancient prophet Isaiah said, “this people honors me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me[3].”

The problem with the temple complex was that its grandeur, magnificence and beauty might have led to the tendency to value and even worship the temple itself, instead of the God whose presence it was supposed to point to. If, as the disciples seemed to do, people concentrated on what they could see and experience, instead of looking beyond that visible reality to the unseen reality of God which lay behind it, then idolatry becomes a genuine possibility.

We said that the enduring truth is that God will not countenance any displacement of the rightful place He is to occupy in our value system and in our worship.

The question then naturally arises, “What might tempt us to displace God in our value system, in our worship, and in our priorities today”?

This question poses an especially critical concern for us Episcopalians, we who are inheritors of the Anglican way. For we value beauty, we value doing things well and with care in our worship. We value the heritage of our Prayer Book. We love our buildings, the music, the organ, the liturgy, and so forth.

We place a high priority on the various causes we are engaged in.

It’d be easy for us to love all these things for their sake alone, for – after all – they are the things we can see and experience.

The takeaway from this morning’s reading might be that we are called to take an in-depth look at what we value and what we worship. Are the things we devote our energies to the things of God, or are they something else altogether?

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[1]   Today, all that remains of the temple complex is the Temple Mount itself. Some of the stones used to build its walls weigh an immense amount: Some, it is estimated, weigh about 570 tons. Modern machinery today would be hard-pressed to move something weighing that much, so one wonders how ancient peoples 2,000 years ago managed to do so.

[2]   The Jewish-Roman War lasted from 66 – 70 AD. The first century historian Josephus wrote an account of it.

[3]   Jesus quoted Isaiah 29:13, which may be found in Matthew 15:8 and in Mark 7:6.

All Saints’ Sunday, Year C (2022)

All Saints’ Sunday

Daniel 7: 1 -3, 15 – 18
Psalm 149
Ephesians 1: 11 – 23
Luke 6: 20 – 31

This is the homily given at St. John’s, Huntingdon, Pennsylvania by Fr. Gene Tucker on Sunday, November 6, 2022.

 

“A SAINT-OR- A ‘NICE PERSON’?”

(Homily text: Luke 6: 20 – 32)

This morning, we alter our normal liturgical schedule a bit, setting aside the appointed readings for the Twenty-Second Sunday after Pentecost (Proper 27), to observe All Saints’ Sunday. All Saints’ Day falls on November 1^st each year, but it is one of the few holy days in the calendar that may be moved to the Sunday following its appointed day

Each year here at St. John’s, we offer members of our faith community the opportunity to list names of those who’ve been an influence of some sort or another in their lives on our All Saints’ Sunday list. As we look at the names of those we’ve placed on the list, perhaps it might be good to reflect on the values and the character of those we’ve chosen to remember.

Such a reflection brings to mind the following question: What is it in the character of those we’ve recalled at this time of year that made them a saint (or a saintly person), and not simply a “nice person”?

It seems as though there is a difference between being a person who shows forth in their lives (in some way) godly values above and beyond the characteristics of being a well-conditioned person with good social graces.

To be sure, there’s some overlap between saintliness and goodness. We think of St. Paul’s list of the fruits of the (Holy) Spirit, which he tells us, are: Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, and self-control.[1] Many, if not most or all, of these qualities are markers of a person who exhibits “niceness”.

Perhaps Paul’s mentioning that the Spirit is the one who grants this list of fruits might lead us to understand that a saint is a person in whom God has been working. So the process of growing into sainthood is one which begins inside of us, in our hearts and minds, a process which then works its way out into the way in which we speak and act. The implication of this process is that God works within us something we cannot do ourselves.

Now, if we turn the tables the other way, and take a look at what constitutes “niceness”, we could come to the conclusion that a person can cultivate such qualities without God’s help. Such a process then becomes one which reverses the inside-to-the-outside process of growing into sainthood, for this process begins on the outside and works its way inside to some degree. Understanding the difference between saintliness and niceness might cause us to remember that, ultimately, it is God alone who can change the human heart and mind. True integration of our inner selves and our outer selves can only be done with divine help and guidance.

Our prayer might be: “Come, Holy Spirit, and enliven within us the image of Christ, that we may show forth in our lives the light of the redeeming One. Amen.”

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[1]   See Galatians 5:22 – 23.

Pentecost 21, Year C (2022)

PROPER 26
Isaiah 1: 10 – 18
Psalm 32: 1 – 8
II Thessalonians 1: 1 – 4; 11 – 12
Luke 19: 1 – 10

This is the homily given at St. John’s, Huntingdon, Pennsylvania by Fr. Gene Tucker on Sunday October 30, 2022.

 

“TURNAROUND”

(Homily text: Luke 19: 1 – 10)

Luke, alone among the Gospel writers, treats us to the telling of Jesus’ encounter with the chief tax collector Zacchaeus, as the Lord made His way through Jericho on His way to Jerusalem for the feast of Passover.

The meeting with Jesus results in a turnaround for Zacchaeus, who amends his ways, who promises to undo the wayward ways of his work on behalf of the occupying Romans, and who assures the Lord that he will repay anyone he’s defrauded “four-fold”.

There’s a lesson for all of us in the meeting of the unholy Zacchaeus and the holy One of God, Jesus, the Christ.

That lesson has to do with the absolute necessity of realizing that we, if we are to try to rely on our own merits and our own abilities, are incapable of changing the fundamental nature of the way we are. It’s entirely possible that Zacchaeus, whose own guilt over the ways he had been conducting himself, came to his senses because of his proximity to the holiness of Jesus. I don’t think there’s any other way to regard Zacchaeus’ change-of-heart.

Our experience with the things that seem to take hold of us, and to take over our lives, can only be conquered if we admit to ourselves that “We can’t”, but that “Someone else can”. We can see this clearly in the matter of drug addiction (or any other sort of addiction, for that matter), for a change of course only takes place when the person him/herself admits that they need help. In the matter of our spiritual health, that One who “can” is God Himself.

Notice that Jesus says that “salvation has come to Zacchaeus’ house”. That saving grace came only when Zacchaeus admitted his wrongful conduct and assured the Lord that he would change course. Zacchaeus’ act is a lesson for us, today.

AMEN.

Pentecost 20, Year C (2022)

Proper 25 :: Joel 2: 23 – 32 / Psalm 65 / II Timothy 4: 6 – 8, 16 – 18 / Luke 18: 9 – 14

This is the homily given at St. John’s, Huntingdon, Pennsylvania by Fr. Gene Tucker on Sunday, October 23, 2022.

 

“THREE POSTURES BEFORE GOD”

(Homily text: Luke 18: 9 – 14)

This morning, we are treated to a hearing of Jesus’ well-known parable, the Parable of the Pharisee and the Tax Collector (or, in an earlier time, its title was the Parable of the Pharisee and the Publican).

Jesus’ marvelous parable outlines three postures that we might assume as we stand before God. They are:

A boastful attitude which magnifies our wonderful deeds and accomplishments.

An attitude of gratefulness for God’s mercy and lovingkindness, which enables us to stand before God in a justified state.

An attitude of remorse for our shortcomings and sins, coupled with a prayer that God’s mercy will be given to us.

Clearly, as we look at each of these three, we can agree that the first stance is completely unacceptable. After all, if we’re completely honest with ourselves and with God, we will have to admit that there’s no platform we can construct which will support our own self-promotion in God’s sight. Of course, this is the obvious problem with the Pharisee’s behavior in the parable….the platform he’s constructed for himself, as he reels off all his great and good deeds, is – in actuality – a platform made up of a house of cards. The great western Church theologian and bishop, St. Augustine of Hippo (354 – 430 AD) would agree with this assessment.

Then, we’d have to come to the conclusion that the last stance is the most appropriate one, and the necessary one as we relate to God. In truth, all of our righteousness is like a pile of filthy rags[1], if we’re honest with ourselves.

But, we are bound to add here, that though we’re unworthy of any measure of God’s goodness and mercy, that doesn’t mean that we are without worth and value in God’s eyes. Quite the contrary, we are God’s most valued and most desired possession. God created each and every one of us, creating us deliberately and in God’s image and likeness. That means that we, each one of us, has value - great value - in God’s sight. Put another way, we’re worthy putting up with in God’s eyes. We’re worth seeking out, in God’s estimation.

All of this discussion leads us to the third stance, one of upright thanksgiving and adoration for God’s goodness and mercy and thoughtfulness. Only if we begin by lowering our eyes while uttering the prayer, “Lord, have mercy on me, a sinner”, can we then lift our eyes in thanksgiving, and fix our gaze on the God who upholds righteousness, but also extends mercy to the remorseful and the repentant ones.

Thanks be to God!

AMEN.

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[1]   See Isaiah 64:6.