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.