Maturing in Faith

Readings for Jan 31, 2016

If I speak in the tongues of mortals and of angels, but do not have love, I am a noisy gong or a clanging cymbal. And if I have prophetic powers, and understand all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have all faith, so as to remove mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. If I give away all my possessions, and if I hand over my body so that I may boast, but do not have love, I gain nothing.

Love is patient; love is kind; love is not envious or boastful or arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice in wrongdoing, but rejoices in the truth. It bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never ends. But as for prophecies, they will come to an end; as for tongues, they will cease; as for knowledge, it will come to an end. For we know only in part, and we prophesy only in part; but when the complete comes, the partial will come to an end. When I was a child, I spoke like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child; when I became an adult, I put an end to childish ways. For now we see in a mirror, dimly, but then we will see face to face. Now I know only in part; then I will know fully, even as I have been fully known. And now faith, hope, and love abide, these three; and the greatest of these is love.  - 1 Corinthians 13

Click the picture to listen to the sermon

There was a video going around Facebook earlier this week – apropos of that massive storm.  It showed a boy about 5 years old – bundled from head to toe in his snow gear – outside trying to assist in the never-ending shoveling that many of us experienced.  He makes a couple of valiant attempts with his little blue shovel – but then stops – looks around – sighs.  So much snow….You know that feeling?  And finally in pure desperation looks heavenward and shouts – Jesus, make it warm!

Yes – that’s exactly what I shouted looking at all that snow.  And generally speaking know full well that kind of prayer.  Jesus fix this situation!  God make this better!  You, up there in your comfy cozy heaven – get down here and help me – help us – figure “this” out.  (“This” covers a whole lot of territory)

As children that’s natural.  A child is dependent.  Parents – or the adults that take care of us – create the world we know.  Gaining our autonomy, as psychologists tell us, is actually a slow and challenging process.  Because we want it – we want to be in control, doing everything on our own – but it’s also great to be cared for – especially when things go wrong - and it’s great to look to someone else we believe more capable to solve our problems.

We had a funeral here yesterday and the son remarked – you know, it’s hard when you lose a parent, because no matter what age you are – you are always the child.

Freud – who believed that the Judeo-Christian God was simply humanity’s wish for the ideal parent – said that one sign of a mature person is someone who can see their parents objectively.  Knowing that they too are fallible– not perfect– people - who are struggling just like everyone else.

In his book – Falling Upward: A Spirituality for the Two Halves of Life – Richard Rohr makes the parallel that we are also called to maturation process in our faith.  He makes the case that if we want a fuller, a deeper engagement with our religious life – then we must grow our understanding of God. The childlike notions of God we hold on to (which culture encourages) – the seated on the throne up there, man with a beard who doles out rewards and punishments – just aren’t connected with the good news of redemption and freedom that Jesus reveals.. He opens the book with this quote:

The greatest and most important problems of life are fundamentally unsolvable.  They can never be solved, but only outgrown. – Carl Jung

This idea resonates with a theme I hear this morning.  God through the voice of the prophet Jeremiah – God through the disciple Paul – God in the person of Jesus Christ – God encouraging us to push beyond our early conceptions – conceptions that cause us to look up and say “fix it!” – and instead turn our gaze - here – inward – towards our God-given capacities to practice and imitate God’s way of relating to us.

Before you I formed you in the womb I knew you – God says to Jeremiah.  Before we were even a sparkle in our parent’s eye - That’s incredible, isn’t it?   The knowledge that every part of you was formed by God.  And not just formed – but known, inside and out.  That’s what Paul reiterates when he say – now I know only in part.  But then – when I meet God face to face – I will know just as I have been fully known.

What would it mean to live each day always aware that you were that intimately connected with God all the time?  Jeremiah says – I can’t do it.  We can relate to that, can’t we?  But God says – yes you can, because you’re mine.  You can go where I send you – you can speak words I give you – have no fear!

Fear – like pain or suffering – is one of those great problems that cannot be solved – only outgrown.

 You know the scripture verse - There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. (1 John 4:18)

In short Jesus is asking the people in his synagogue – or church – to choose love over fear.  At first they are all filled with amazement when one of their very own stands up to proclaim – that God is here to proclaim – release, redemption and freedom.  But then, Jesus keeps talking – going on to say – oh, but not just for you – release, redemption, freedom for everyone! Including the people you don’t like!  The ones you try and keep out!  And he reminds them of all the times in the past where God’s released and restored the enemies of God’s chosen.  Jesus says the love I’m talking about is for everyone – even the people you’re afraid of.

In our world we struggle with the same.  There are many voices telling us to choose fear over love when it comes to whether or not we are to welcome the stranger.


In Falling Upward – Rohr says – in the first half of our lives – we must create the boundaries – we must build the fences there is a time when – as Frost wrote – Good fences make good neighbors – but you don’t stop there, you don’t just build fences.  You eventually need to cross beyond them to actually meet your neighbors.  (Love your neighbor – as you love yourself.)


If Jesus’ words – so linked to a time and place – are hard to follow (I think they are).  Paul says it in a way that is timeless.

The perfect love of God, the love that casts out our fear – isn’t about doing things perfectly (in fact quite the opposite).  It’s about wholeness of being.  Living our lives paying attention - aware of how we are – within ourselves and with our neighbors.  This passage so often heard at weddings gets linked to the romantic idea of love – and it has nothing to do with that.  It’s describing God’s love for us which those of us in Christian community are called to imitate.  You could read the whole thing and replace Love with God.

God is patient – God is kind.  God is never boastful or arrogant or rude.  God doesn’t insist on God’s own way.  God is not envious or irritable or resentful.  God does not rejoice in wrongdoing – but rejoices in truth – which always sets us free.

And God who has known us since before we are born has given each of us this ability.  That is how God formed us – created us – to be – all the time.  Knowing we won’t always get it right – but just as God always gives us a second and third and fiftieth chance to try again – we have the same capacity.  For ourselves – and for all those we are in relationship with.

Paul’s words could be a daily meditation that every day, all day long we have the opportunity to live what we believe.

Because - the greatest and most important problems of life are fundamentally unsolvable.  They can never be solved, but only outgrown.

So often we want things to be different – we want snow to melt – we want people to change – we want the circumstances of our lives not to be what they are.  There is always – something.  But as we grow in the knowledge that we are the ones God has equipped to practice the love of God – we open our hearts to the blessings available now – just as the heart of God is open to who we are right now –  in the midst of the problems we face – the ones we overcome – and the ones we don’t.  


How we spend our lives is how we spend our days. (Annie Dillard)  Moment by moment – day by day – the release and redemption and freedom of God’s love is always around us – if and when we choose to see it – if and when we choose to be it.  Amen.

Big Picture Thinking

Second Sunday after the Epiphany

Now concerning spiritual gifts, brothers and sisters, I do not want you to be uninformed....
Now there are varieties of gifts, but the same Spirit; and there are varieties of services, but the same Lord; and there are varieties of activities, but it is the same God who activates all of them in everyone. 1 Corinthians 12:1-6

To listen to an audio version click the picture below.  

One day a traveler, walking along a lane, came across 3 stonecutters working in a quarry. Each was busy cutting a block of stone. Interested to find out what they were working on, he asked the first stonecutter what he was doing. “I am making a living!” Still no wiser the traveler turned to the second stonecutter and asked him what he was doing. “I am cutting this block of stone to make sure that its square, and its dimensions are uniform, so that it is the best stone in the wall”  Still unclear, the traveler turned to the third stonecutter. He seemed to be the happiest of the three and when asked what he was doing replied: “I am building a cathedral.”*

Three people all engaged in the same task, all using similar gifts.  But only one – the one who works in joy – sees his work as part of a bigger picture.

In his letter to the church in Corinth – Paul is addressing – the proverbial stonecutters of his church.  It sounds as though he is answering their question, or maybe settling an argument.

“Now concerning spiritual gifts, brothers and sisters, I do not want you to be uninformed.”  Which certainly implies they are.   It sounds like the people of his church are in competition, arguing over whose gifts and tasks are more important.  Instead of focusing on their cathedral – they are comparing all their stones and trying to rank order their importance.

Comparison.  Here’s a good saying to keep handy for the New Year – Comparison is the thief of happiness.++

It’s such a gremlin isn’t it – comparison.  We do it all the time.  We compare ourselves with people we know.  We compare ourselves with people we don’t – famous people, models and movie stars.  We compare our bodies – our hair – our clothes.  We compare our career to others – our education – our families.  We compare houses, inside and out.  We compare churches and styles of worship. We compare our situations – our accomplishments.

And this saying – that engaging in comparison is a thief of our happiness – rings true, because rarely do compare ourselves in a positive way.  Usually we’re comparing believing others have it better than we do. That’s certainly what it sounds like the people in Corinth are doing.  Or maybe they are doing the – if only – comparison.   If only I had wisdom, or knowledge.  If only I could do that, achieved that, looked like that – then – it would all be good.  If only I could cut my stone like she does – then it would be better - I would be better – than who I am right now.

And that’s the thief.  Believing we aren’t worthy as we are.  That thief robs us of gratitude of what we’ve been given.  The gratitude which propels us to joyfully live into our gifts, our talents, our abilities – sharing them because we know, we trust they are part of a big picture.  There’s only one reason the third guy is happy - If we don’t think our stones matter to the cathedral – then where’s the joy in making them at all?

What are the gifts God has given you to share with the world?  Do you share them?  Do you compare and rank them – or do you share them joyfully, in gratitude?

I mean remember when you were pagan?  That’s Paul’s question.  How about you?  (I’m not a pagan!)  Let’s define pagan like this – a time when we look to the prevailing culture to set our values/priorities for us.  For me the last time I was pagan – and yes it happens daily – let’s say 8 o’clock last night – when I saw an ad on TV that made me feel less than for one reason or another, or made me covet, want something I didn’t need, or made me think I was better than someone else.

That’s what Paul points to.  Remember when you were a pagan and you worshipped idols – the god of wealth, or beauty, or status?  Gods that aren’t in relationship with you – because they don’t really care about you – they care about satisfying their needs – and reminding you that your needs will never be satisfied.

But you, brothers and sisters, have been formed of the Spirit – have been blessed by the Spirit – are intricately and indelibly sealed by the Spirit and marked as Christ’s own forever!  Wow – that is such an amazing and glorious big picture!  Of love – of belonging – of meaning and purpose.  That’s what the gifts and the talents are for!  When was the last time you lost yourself in the midst of doing something – lost track of time because you were so engaged in your work, or conversation, or learning, or sharing something of yourself?  That is transcendence.  That is big picture connection!

We who are many are one body – Paul writes elsewhere.  The Body of Christ – is created when we share who we are with one another as a part of this big picture. Empowering – not ranking - others to share their gifts, joyfully for the mutual benefit of bringing in the kingdom.

That is the activation of the Spirit as Paul says.



Perhaps some of you heard about our church – the larger church we call the Anglican Communion – in the news this week.    Right now, across the pond, there is a Primates meeting.  There are 38 churches – such as the Episcopal Church of the United States – and each one has a presiding bishop or archbishop.  Ours is Michael Curry.  Periodically – the Archbishop of Canterbury – who is the head of the Church of England calls all 38 leaders to a meeting.  This is a gathering of our Communion.  The gathering itself is what we call “an instrument of unity.”  A sign of the big picture – leaders in common prayer – sharing their varied experiences of living the gospel of Jesus Christ in their context with their gifts.

The Episcopal Church’s context and gift is being a church of inclusivity.  Inclusivity not based on social theory or political leanings – but based on theology.  Theology expressed most succinctly in one of our prayers - Lord Jesus Christ you stretched his arms of love on the hard wood of the cross so that EVERYONE might come within the reach of your saving embrace.  We are a church that lives into that sacramentally.  We believe same gender couples are worthy to be married.  We believe straight, gay and lesbian people are worthy to be ordained.  Not all of the other 38 churches agree.

So believing relationship always is the priority, at this meeting, the Episcopal Church agreed to abstain from voting on ecumenical and interfaith bodies appointed to represent the Communion.   For all intents and purposes a completely symbolic action – with actually no real consequence in the day to day operations of any of the churches of the Communion – including ours.

So when you read the completely incorrect headlines of news media – such as the Washington Post which read, Anglican Communion Suspends the Episcopal Church after Years of Gay Rights Debates (1/14/16) – know that it is wrong.  It’s wrong because it’s comparing.  It’s comparing the Anglican Communion – to the Roman Catholic Church.  A church that has a pope – and a hierarchical, doctrinal structure.  

In the words of our Presiding Bishop, Michael Curry - The Anglican Communion is a network of relationships that have been built on mission partnerships; relationships grounded in a common faith; relationships in companion diocese relationships; relationships with parish to parish across the world; relationships that are profoundly committed to serving and following the way of Jesus of Nazareth by helping the poorest of the poor…. That’s what the Anglican Communion is, and that Communion continues and moves forward.” (http://episcopaldigitalnetwork.com/ens/2016/01/15/video-presiding-bishop-responds-to-primates-actions-stresses-relationships/)

That is the sort of big picture – relational – not hierarchical – thinking that Paul encourages his people – and us – to embrace.  In our small and big picture way – we too are a beloved community built on relationship.  Brought together by the activation of the Holy Spirit – so that each of us can discern and share our spiritual gifts – for the common good.  The common good of this body – and – the common good that is the kingdom of God – in the world.

In this New Year – may we commit ourselves to sharing – and revealing bit by bit – the kingdom made real when we find our communion in God.  Joyfully sharing the gifts God has given every single one of us.   Amen.

* Source is anonymous, but I found it here - http://www.the-happy-manager.com/articles/leadership-quality/

++ Attributed to a variety of people, I got it from Brene Brown's book, Daring Greatly

Into the Regions Beyond

The Feast of the Epiphany

Matthew 2:1-12

The Rev. Joshua Rodriguez-Hobbs

Into the regions beyond. That is my seminary motto, and during my time at Berkeley Divinity School at Yale, I saw it prominently displayed on every official publication. Into the regions beyond. It comes from Paul’s second letter to the Corinthians, in which Paul expresses his desire to preach the gospel in the regions beyond Corinth. It was chosen because Berkeley was founded to train missionaries.

Into the regions beyond. I think it’s also a good phrase to describe our reading from Matthew’s Gospel this morning. For the magi, the wise men, coming from the East as they do, Jerusalem was the regions beyond. Matthew isn’t very specific, just naming a direction on the compass, and throughout the years, people have suggested origins as fantastic as China for the magi, but they probably came from Persia, in the regions beyond the borders of the Roman Empire. These strangers in a strange land journey beyond their own region, into another, and when they get there, they have to journey beyond their expectations. They come seeking a king, so they head to the palace in Jerusalem. That seems like a logical choice, doesn’t it? But the king is not there. He is in the little town of Bethlehem, far from the centers of power. The magi don’t find what they expected: two young peasants and their baby. That doesn’t seem very grand, at all. But Mary and Joseph probably weren’t expecting the magi, either. These strange foreigners, more magicians than wise men, bring precious gifts to a baby who they believe is the new king of a foreign country, fulfilling the prophecy given to a people not their own about a messiah they probably didn’t believe in. None of those gathered in that house in that little town could have expected this. And then, gifts given, the magi set out into the regions beyond again, returning to their country by another way.

Mary and Joseph and Jesus head into the regions beyond, too. Our reading this morning ends before Matthew’s story does.            Matthew goes on to tell of how Herod, when the magi failed to returned, ordered his soldiers to slaughter the male children in Bethlehem so that this newborn king  could not challenge him. An angel comes to Joseph in the nick of time, warning him in a dream to take Jesus and Mary and flee to Egypt. The Holy Family live as refugees there until Herod dies. This is a story about going beyond: beyond expectations, beyond religious boundaries, beyond the safe confines of home. And, like all good stories, it is about us too.

Like the magi, like the Holy Family, we too are called to venture out into the regions beyond. It can be scary,  I know. It can be bittersweet and exciting and wonderful too, can’t it? I’m feeling all of those emotions today, as I stand among you for the last time as your Associate Rector. We’re all, in our own ways, going into the regions beyond today, like the magi. This can be an uncomfortable place to be, poised between one thing another, ready for the journey to begin and dreading to leave what we know and love behind. But the call of God to God’s people throughout the story of scripture is: “Go.” Go and make disciples of all people. We cannot do that until we venture into those unknown, uncertain regions beyond the safety and surety of our church buildings, going where people are.

That is, in part, why I am beginning a new ministry as a hospice chaplain. This is my region beyond, the new place to which God is calling me in my life. I would be lying if I told you that it was easy to say yes to that call, because it means leaving all of you, leaving this community where I have learned what it means to be a priest, to be your priest. Following this call to journey into the regions beyond means giving our present relationship up, because I will no longer be your priest. This is bittersweet. We cannot go home by the same way. Our relationships must change.

You are all called to go into the regions beyond too, of course. That call looks different for each of us. It is difficult for all of us, because it often requires us to leave something behind. But we believe that God goes ahead of us, guiding us, just as the star guided the magi to Bethlehem. This community is already going into the regions beyond. This is the reason we send our teenagers on a pilgrimage, on a journey to find God in an unfamiliar place, so that they can better recognize the signs of God’s presence when they return home. You are all already living into that call with courage and faithfulness. Over the past three and a half years, I have watched with wonder and delight as the Outreach Committee has prayerfully discerned what God is calling this community to do for our city, reworking our ministries to bring us more closely into relationship with others. This has not been easy. It has been hard and frightening. But look at where we are today: Good Shepherd is pioneering using our endowment funds for ministry by making microloans lift the people of Baltimore out of poverty; our Habitat for Humanity ministry has expanded to include both Govans and  Sandtown; we are forming relationships with St. Luke’s Church on Carey Street, relationships which are changing us for the better as much as they improve  the lives of the people in Baltimore’s Franklin Square neighborhood. Friends, you are already going into the regions beyond.

Going into the regions beyond is still difficult and frightening, just as Matthew’s story of the magi is difficult and frightening. But God goes with us, just as God went with the magi and the Holy Family, just as God is with us today. The journey may be hard, but God always gives enough grace to get us home by another way, even if it is not the way we expected or wanted.

My prayer for you, as we say goodbye, each of us going our own way into the regions beyond, is that you will make this journey with courage and with faith. I know that you will, because I know that the words St. Paul wrote to the Philippians are true for you, also: I thank my God every time I remember you, constantly praying with joy in every one of my prayers for all of you, because of your sharing in the gospel from the first day until now. I am confident of this, that the one who began a good work among you will bring it to completion by the day of Jesus Christ. (Phil 1:3-6) Amen.

Oh the Humanity

Sermon for the Second Sunday of Christmas
Year C

After three days they found Jesus in the temple, sitting among the teachers, listening to them and asking them questions. And all who heard him were amazed at his understanding and his answers. When his parents saw him they were astonished; and his mother said to him, "Child, why have you treated us like this? Look, your father and I have been searching for you in great anxiety." He said to them, "Why were you searching for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father's house?" But they did not understand what he said to them. Then he went down with them and came to Nazareth, and was obedient to them. His mother treasured all these things in her heart.  And Jesus increased in wisdom and in years, and in divine and human favor. (Luke 47-52)

To listen to the sermon, click the image below:

About two years ago I wrote an essay which tried to answer this question – highlight the relationship between a core Christian assertion and the goals of ministry.  There are several core Christian assertions one could choose from, obviously – God as eternal – Jesus as fully divine – the church as the household of God on earth – but for me – there is primarily one Christian truth that fascinates me more than any other.  It’s one we kind of take for granted – yet I think find hard to explain or articulate if we are pressed.

We say it in a variety of ways every time we gather for worship – we said it this morning in our opening collect.  But the explanation within Eucharistic Prayer A – is the one I chose – and choose when I want to remind myself of God’s presence in my life…I’m sure it will sound familiar to you –

God, in your infinite love, you made us for yourself.  And when we had fallen into sin and become subject to evil and death, you, in your mercy, sent Jesus Christ, your only and eternal son – to share our human nature, to live – and die – as one of us – to reconcile us to you – the God and Father of all.

Share our human nature – that’s the phrase that is so rich, so intriguing for me.  It summarizes all we give thanks for during this season of Christmas, the miracle of the Incarnation.  The reality that God – try as God might through all the prophets of ages past – just had to enter into – had to share in the human experience in the only way God could – by being born.  Not wearing humanity like a costume or mask – that God could take on and off like a superhero – but literally share life – a finite life – to show that God refuses to live apart from us.

When we’re in a year of Luke’s gospel – as we are now – all of Christmas is contained in this chapter, chapter two – this morning’s section being the third and final part.  The first is the birth – Joseph and Mary being sent out because of the census – finding no room at the inn – the shepherds and the angels – thanks to Charles Schulze (and I really do mean thanks) if there is any scripture story we’ve committed to memory, it most likely is the birth of Jesus as recited by Linus.

Section two is Mary and Joseph bringing Jesus to be presented in the temple as a baby, which would be the faith custom of their time – not a baptism, more like a dedication – dedicating the child to God while offering sacrifice, as would happen with any child of a faithful household back then.

And the third section is this – the last we hear of the child Jesus.  Again we are reminded of Mary and Joseph’s faithfulness.  This is an annual trip to Jerusalem – a pilgrimage for the Passover.  They probably would have gone with a large group of family and friends to safely make the journey.  So, while we may wonder how it is that Jesus (you know, being Jesus) could have so easily slipped away, unnoticed by his parents – it’s all too human. Think of being with a crowd of cousins.  My daughter enjoyed her cousins (up in Lawng Island) this Christmas and there were many times one or another would come in the room and say – have you seen so and so – and we would say – check outside, check the basement.  They’re around here somewhere!

And I’m sure it was the same in Jesus’ family.  Kids everywhere – parents sharing in the watching – and all assuming a 12 year old was well aware of when he was supposed to be where he was supposed to be.  And I’m sure all of us can feel tremendous empathy with Mary and Joseph when Jesus isn’t where he’s supposed to be.  And they have to spend a day back-tracking – and then three days – in what I can only imagine would have been building, torturous panic – searching for their son.  Only to find him – quite at ease, not at all concerned about the trouble he’s caused – and surprised by their anxiety and astonishment.

Can you picture this twelve year old boy?  What is his tone of voice?  Sarcastic? Self-assured? Mildly apologetic?

How about Mary and Joseph?  Are they angry?  On the verge of tears?  Do they have that feeling that some of us know when you are telling your child – it’s not so much that I’m angry I was just so worried about you?

All of that – anxiety, amazement, fear, anger, sarcasm, terror, surprise, concern, panic, sighs of relief – all of that – is human nature.  If you were God – if you were omniscient, all powerful and all loving – why in the world would you want to enter into that?  What does that say to you about God and God’s love for all people?

In Luke’s telling of Jesus’ childhood – the only telling of Jesus’ childhood – he seems to imply that Mary is the first to get what God is up to.  When the shepherds run to find the holy family – and tell Mary what they saw – the angels in heaven announcing Christ’s birth – it reads that Mary treasured their words and pondered them in her heart.  When Jesus is presented in the temple, the priest Simon blesses both parents but turns to Mary to say, this child is destined for greatness – but a sword will pierce your own soul too.

And after this incident, when Jesus leaves the temple obediently returning to his parents – it reads – His mother treasured all these things in her heart.

For Mary, each experience is meant for reflection.  And she grows in awareness of who her son is and grows in awareness of who God is.

And growing is a big part of human nature.  We are not finished at any one particular point in our lives – well – yes, our lives are finite – but our faith is not.

We us this gospel story as the scriptural basis for confirmation – just as Jesus claims his identity in God at the age of 12, somehow around this age we too should be able to claim that identity.

Well, on the one hand I agree in the necessity of ritual.  We need rituals to mark passages in our life of faith – just as in other areas of our lives.  You feel like you’ve graduated, not so much because of the piece of paper – but because you attended the graduation.

But – confirmation is not graduation – although – as I discussed with family and friends over the past week – that’s often how we treat it, in a variety of Christian denominations.  We prepare for confirmation by learning the answers – and then we get confirmed – and then – well, often times, we stop coming to church…at least for awhile.  And who knows – maybe that’s what Jesus did too.  Maybe that’s why we don’t know anything about him between 12 and 30 – because he got tired of being dragged on pilgrimages with his parents – and wanted to break out there and explore his faith on his own….And even though we don’t have the stories, I can’t imagine Jesus ever stopped exploring.

And the same is true for us – to keep exploring.  We don’t graduate in Christianity – we just get born again and again.  We keep seeking, questioning, discovering and wondering so that we too can treasure and ponder our experiences in our hearts.  Asking God to help us sort through the experiences and the questions – asking God to lead us to that place where we will find reconciliation – wholeness.

This morning’s story – so rich in human experience – so filled with relationships and situation that even two thousand years later we can still relate too – reminds us that it’s within the human experience where we find God – because that’s where God sought to be found.

What aspects of your human nature do you connect with God?  Mary says to Jesus – why have you treated us like this?  When in your life have you asked God that question?  Jesus responds not with an answer – but with another question – Why are you looking for me – you know where to find me? Do we know where to look?  Are we looking – as Jesus encourages – in the most obvious places?

O God, who wonderfully created, and yet more wonderfully restored, the dignity of human nature: Grant that we may share the divine life of him who shared our humanity, your Son Jesus Christ.  May our New Year bring renewed awareness of our life with God and in God – through the richness of life that God has given to all of us.  Amen.

Lighten Our Darkness

The First Sunday after Christmas, Year C

John 1:1-18

The Rev. Joshua Rodriguez-Hobbs

The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.

Over the past few months, our world has slowly grown darker and darker. Night has fallen earlier and earlier each successive night. For the past four weeks, the darkest four weeks of the year, we have lit our Advent wreaths, kindling small sparks of light in the midst of the darkness. Each night for four weeks now, we have engaged in this ritual of human defiance, a way of struggling to exert our mastery over the world around us. And now, the days are slowly growing brighter. The nights are shorter. The light has come!

Of course, we know that our world is not just physically dark. We bore witness to wars and rumors of wars this past year. We bore witness to the violence of terrorists and the Islamic State. We bore witness to Christians martyred around the world. We bore witness to violence in our churches, schools, and streets. It has been a dark year. And we have gathered together what small sparks of light we could to stave off the darkness.

But now, Light has come! Unto us a child is born, God from God, Light from Light, True God from true God, begotten, not made, of one being with the Father. And that Light shines in the midst of our dark world, a world that we know is both literally and metaphorically dark, and we are promised that the darkness will not, cannot, overcome it. God has heard our prayers: Lighten our darkness, we beseech thee, O Lord; and by thy great mercy defend us from all perils and dangers of this night; for the love of thy only Son, our Savior Jesus Christ. God has stooped low and heard our cry. And the Son of God, who was with God from the beginning, from before creation itself, the Son of God has become flesh, born of the Virgin Mary, born in a stable, born a peasant, but a king, born to die. And with his birth, the true Light has come among us, and this Light promises us that the darkness that surrounds us will never overcome it.

Some of you, I am sure, are more familiar with this passage in the lyric translation of the King James Version: And the light shineth in the darkness; and the darkness comprehend it not. That is, at first glance, a very different promise. But the Greek word that John uses in this sentence is one of those words with multiple meanings that are hard to pin down. It can mean “to over power by force,” as the New Revised Standard Version translates it. It can mean “to grasp intellectually,” as the King James translates it. Or, it can mean “to suddenly come upon,” just as night suddenly falls in the winter months. So, for hundreds of years, translators have debated which of these meanings John intended.

Personally, I think that he meant all three. Our dark world will never overpower and snuff out the Light, just as Christ promised us that the Gates of Hell would not overthrow his Church. Our dark world will never fully grasp what God has done for us in Christ Jesus, for it seems inconceivable that our Lord and our Maker should become so powerless, so willing to sacrifice, so willing to die on our behalf. This is a love too deep, too broad, too high for us to grasp. And our dark world will never overshadow this light. It will always burn, just as the sanctuary light above the aumbry always burns, a symbol of the fact that Jesus Christ, the Sun of Righteousness has dawned upon us, and will never set.

The Light of Christ, which comes to us each Christmas, is a beacon in our dark world. William Temple, an English theologian and former Archbishop of Canterbury, compared John’s description of the true Light in this passage to a lighthouse, whose light cuts a clear path through the darkness. This is the Light of Christ, through which we are shown the way to the Father. This is our beacon in our dark world, where things are so uncertain, where our path is so often dim, where it can be difficult to discern the glory of God around us. And this Light will always burn, like a lighthouse’s beam on a dark, storm-tossed sea, guiding us home.

For this is what Christ came to do. Christ became incarnate from the Virgin Mary, Christ was born, lived, and died so that he might, on the hard wood of the cross, bring us all into his saving embrace, reconciling us before God the Father, and giving us the power to become God’s children. Christ is the Light of the World, revealed to us in the words of Scripture, revealed to us in the waters of baptism, revealed to us in bread and wine. Christ is our beacon, our guide upon our earthly pilgrimage. So let us rejoice, for on this holy day, we are assured that God has answered our prayer: Lighten our darkness, we beseech thee, O Lord; and by thy great mercy defend us from all perils and dangers of this dark world; for the love of thy only Son, our Savior Jesus Christ. Amen.

Angels We Have Heard

Christmas Eve, 2015
The Church of the Good Shepherd, Baltimore
Luke 2:1-14


In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified.

Terror is not an emotion or state we tend to associate with Christmas Eve, is it?  Joy, hope, gladness, peace – those are far more in line with the spirit of the season.  But – there it is in the story.  Shepherds quaking in their proverbial boots at the sight of the heavenly host.  Can you blame them?  We sing – Angels we have heard on high, singing sweetly through the night – but somehow I doubt there was a sweet, sweet Spirit in that place, on that night.

I imagine it was a whirlwind powerful Spirit, rivaling any Star Wars-like effects.  Angels swirling and breaking through the heavens with a glorious, blinding light so those shaking shepherds could behold that heaven and earth are one – and even night laborers are counted as worthy of the dominion of God.

Angels have an interesting place in the Judeo-Christian tradition.  And they occupy an interesting place in contemporary culture.  We think of guardian angels – watching over us, watching over the people we love.  We think of angels in our midst – maybe in events of a certain synchronicity that are too meaningful to simply be coincidences.  Angels tend to be represented as children – cherub-like with wings and chubby rosy cheeks.  We do this a lot in our religious life.  We take figures and stories – and sweeten them – domesticate them – making their life-altering truth, less terrifying, easier to take in.  We even, for example, do that with the world-altering reality of the birth of God – it’s called a Christmas pageant.

But angels announce the presence of God which, can be, terrifying. Hundreds of years before Jesus, angels appear to Abraham and Sarah to announce unexpected news of a child – and tell them they have to move.  Pick-up and leave everything behind to follow God towards something new.

Angels appear to Jacob in a dream – ascending and descending on what we all know as Jacob’s ladder – and terrifying him into really believing – that no matter where he runs to – God will always be there.  And later – in another dream an angel wrestles him, knocking his hip out of its socket – ouch – before pronouncing God’s blessing.

Angels appear again and again in the stories leading up to tonight’s story.  Angels always appear to people on the run – angels always bring messages that challenges assumptions and upend previously held ideas about God and God’s plan for us and the world.  And when they act as guardians like Michael and Gabriel – angels always protect the weak – the ones whose lives are burdened by kings and governments who derive their power through fear and oppression.

But angels use their divine power to empower others.  Not with force but with messages meant to lift people up – and set people free.

Surely that must be one reason that churches around the world see the biggest attendance over these 24 hours than on any other day of the year.  So many of us long for that message of freedom.  A message of burdens being lifted as hope, joy and peace shine through.  A night to help us let go of fear and worry - since there really is so much, in our world, to be terrified of.

I imagine some of you heard the real-life nativity story that happened this past Thanksgiving.  A custodian, Jose Moran, spent a Tuesday morning setting up the nativity scene in his church – Holy Child of Jesus – in Queens, New York.  After he put up the manger, he went to lunch.  When he came back the manger held a crying baby – swaddled in blue towels – and only weeks old – the umbilical cord still sprouted from his belly.

The custodian – ran to tell the priest – who had only been ordained 5 months – and I’m sure was quite terrified to hear there was a live baby in the manger.  The baby – a boy – was brought to the hospital – and at just 5 lbs – was found to be healthy.

New York – like Maryland – has what’s called the safe haven law.  It allows parents to do something most of us would find hard to understand.  To leave our child in a place we think is safe – a hospital, a firehouse, a church – without being charged with abandonment.  It’s hard for most of us to imagine being in that state of mind – doing something like that, giving up a child in that way.

And yet, a safe haven indeed was found.  Members of the church immediately came forward asking to adopt the baby.  Angels in our midst – who ensured that an infant, a child of God would be loved and cared for.


Tonight’s story tells us something about God that can be really hard for us to fully understand – and take in.  God’s belief in humanity that God’s son would find safe haven with us.

That we – a people overwhelmed and burdened by the challenges in our lives – would make a home in our hearts for love –mercy – forgiveness.  Trusting that we would be that message to others – so that all might know the good news of Emmanuel – God with us.

The angels in the story of Jesus’ birth – don’t appear with Jesus.  The heavens do not open above the manger where the holy family – refugees from their homeland, have found their safe haven.  The angels do not appear to them.

Angels appear to the custodians of that time – shepherds, night-laborers, who are really of no account.  And not only do the angels show them the magnificence of God’s glory in the heavenly realms – but the angels tell them what all of us long to hear – do not be afraid, God is with you.

Do not be afraid - for on this day – joy has come into the world.
All you need to do is go and see – go and find God in your midst.  Go and see what the Lord makes known – among the peoples of the world.


On a night when many of us are blessed to know safe haven – may we count the blessings we have because of the family of our birth.

On a night when we hear the story of Mary and Joseph, forced to flee their homeland while Quirinias was governor of Syria – may we pray for those who are forced to flee that place today – with infants and children in tow.

On a night when we come together to give thanks for the goodness, mercy and loving-kindness born into the world through Christ – may we practice goodness, mercy and loving-kindness in our lives.

May we remember to not be afraid – but to boldly carry the message of God with us - the message of the angels into our hearts and homes – and into our world.  Amen.

There's Something about Mary

Advent 4, Year C
Luke 1:39-55
The Rev. Joshua Rodriguez-Hobbs

I don’t know if any of you have been watching “Supergirl,” but it’s been one of my favorite new TV shows this year. In the second episode, Kara Danvers, Supergirl’s alter ego, has a confrontation with her boss, media mogul Cat Grant, because Cat has branded the new hero, “Supergirl” instead of “Superwoman.” Grant quips back: “What do you think is so bad about ‘girl’? I’m a girl. And your boss, and powerful, and rich, and hot, and smart. So if you perceive ‘Supergirl’ as anything less than excellent, isn’t the real problem you?” It’s a great speech, but I think I side with Kara Danvers on this. Supergirl sounds so much less powerful than Superwoman. It’s a way of diminishing her, of reminding us that she is less than Superman, who has a new multibillion dollar budget movie coming out, coincidentally, not just a TV show. If I’m right, and we shouldn’t call “Supergirl” a girl, why do we insist on calling Mary one?

We do that a lot. Almost everything I read this week as I prepared for this sermon referred to Mary as a girl. Everything pointed out that she was probably about thirteen or so when the angel Gabriel came to her—something that happens before our reading from Luke begins this morning. And yes, Mary’s reaction to the angel is disbelief, but can you blame her? Moses responded to the burning bush with disbelief, Isaiah and Jeremiah responded to their prophetic calls with disbelief, Gideon asked for multiple signs that God was calling him to be judge over Israel, and yet we never use these men’s disbelief as signs of their youth and naiveté. Mary doesn’t sound like a girl in our reading this morning, which takes places just after the familiar account of the Annunciation.  That shouldn’t surprise us. Mary might have been around thirteen years old, but that made her a woman in her time and place. It’s not a coincidence that that’s the age at which Jewish girls and boys have Bat or Bar Mitzvahs, ceremonies which recognize them as women and men.

The first thing Mary does after Gabriel appears to her is not meek or mild, the usual adjectives we give her. She sets out to visit her cousin Elizabeth in a Judean town in the hill country, a journey of eighty miles that would have taken her at least four days. She makes this journey alone, Luke tells us, confident that God will protect her. That’s not meekness. That’s bravery. When she reaches Elizabeth and Zechariah’s home, she bursts out into song: My soul magnifies the Lord, and my spirit rejoices in God my savior. We read those words, the words of the Magnificat, together this morning. Did they sound like the words of a meek, helpless girl to you when you read them a few minutes ago? Or did they sound like the words of a mature, confident, politically astute woman?

Mary’s words are a prophecy, and she is willing to accept the prophetic role that God has offered her, partnering with God to remake the world according to God’s vision. Mary declares that God is going to make the world anew, that she stands at a turning point in human history. God is going to scatter the proud and to cast down the powerful. God will lift up the lowly and feed the hungry, but God, Mary tells us, will send the rich away empty. God will remember the promise made to Israel, even though that promise feel so remote and so hard to fulfill.

Two thousand years later, does it seem hard for you to believe those prophetic words? It does for me, sometimes, I’ll be honest. There is so much violence, so much fear in our world. But there was also much violence and much fear in the world when the angel Gabriel came to Mary. There was more violence and more fear when Luke sat down to write his Gospel, because he wrote following a war between Israel and Rome that left the Temple in Jerusalem, the sign of God’s presence on earth, destroyed. Luke wrote following a bitter civil war in Rome in which four men claimed to be Caesar, and three of them were assassinated within months of claiming the Imperial throne.Luke and Mary know that it is like to live in a world that is as violent and as dangerous as our own, and yet they proclaim their trust that God is going to turn the world toward justice.

Martin Luther King, Jr. remarked in 1964,
 “The arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice.” This is the vision that Luke and Mary give us today, on this, the Fourth Sunday of Advent, days before Christmas. We live perpetually on the Fourth Sunday of Advent, in that moment between the promise and its fulfillment. We trust and we have faith that God will act, that God will bend the arc of the universe toward justice, that God is bending that arc as we speak. God bent that arc on Christmas and on Easter. We proclaim that God has been victorious over sin and death, over violence and evil and oppression in every form, but we still live with their effects. There is still work to be done. There universe still needs to be bent. And this is a hard place to live. Mary and Luke knew this, too, just as we know this. To again quote Martin Luther King, Jr., this time from his Letter from a Birmingham Jail: “We must come to see that human progress never rolls in on wheels of inevitability. It comes through the tireless efforts and persistent work of men willing to be coworkers with God, and without this hard work time itself becomes an ally of the forces of social stagnation.”

This is what Mary does in our reading today. She proclaims that she is a coworker with God through the life growing within her. Mary claims the work that God has given her to do, the way in which she will do her part to bend the universe toward justice. For this reason, one of the traditional titles given to Mary is the Theotokos, a Greek word which means, “God-bearer.” This is not something a girl does. This is the work of a mature, confident, powerful woman. This is the example that Mary gives us, one which all of us, men and women, boys and girls, should strive to meet. Mary shows us what it looks like when we accept God’s call in our lives, when we respond with hope and faith, maturely taking our place in God’s work of salvation.

Doing so will make us God-bearers, too. As the thirteenth century German mystic Meister Eckhart said, “We are all called to be mothers of God—for God is always waiting to be born.” Where is God waiting to be born in Baltimore? Where is God waiting to be born in your life? How are you called to be a God-bearer, partnering with God in bending the universe toward justice? How will Mary become your example in this? Amen.