End of Epiphany, Beginning of Lent: Put On Your Crash Helmets!

Fairly or not, noted author Annie Dillard describes church folk as “cheerful, brainless tourists on a packaged tour of the Absolute...The tourists are having coffee and doughnuts on Deck C.  Presumably someone is minding the ship...The wind seems to be picking up...”

Today the season of Epiphany concludes, and we prepare for the forty days of Lent, beginning this Wednesday, Ash Wednesday.  You can hardly read the Scripture passages today with any kind of real understanding and not notice that, indeed, “the wind is picking up”!  Try as we might be tempted to ignore, to pass off, or to resist it, -- and you and I do all of the above -- these readings are full of visions of transfiguration, transformation, something new in the making: the end of “business as usual”.  God’s reign is coming among us in full force! 

Along with Elisha and the company of prophets from Jericho in the first reading (2 Kings 2:1-12) we can hardly believe our ears and eyes in witnessing the whirlwind, the chariot and horses of fire which sweep Elijah up and snatch him “into heaven”, according to the writer.  Our modern skeptical minds, are probably thinking, along with those motley prophets: “Let’s get the search party out there! It was a nice show, but surely God must have dropped Elijah out on some mountain or into a ravine. Let’s go and seek your master.”  And Elisha forbids them.  Elisha knows that this isn’t business as usual.  The event has nothing to do with confirming his credentials as a prophet after his mentor, Elijah.

Prior to the event the Jericho prophets had been chittering to Elisha: “Hey, you know that God’s going to take your master away from you today, right? Now, you’ll be the master!”  Partisan politics.  Good PR to secure Elisha’s credentials.  The motivation for spiritual and political self-advancement.  But Elisha knows better.  God has taken Elijah away in a unique and revelatory event: a sign of something which has nothing to do with cheap religion or politics.  When the prophets’ search party returns, after three days,  there’s no Elijah. Elisha reminds them: “Did I not say to you, ‘Do not go’?”

Using a literary device known as epanalepsis (repetition, resumption, taking up again) the passage from 2 Kings is set between two passages which say (the end of Chap. 1): “Jehoram succeeded [Ahaziah] as king in the second year of King Jehoram son of Jehoshaphat of Judah...” and (the beginning of Chap. 3): “In the 18th year of King Jehoshapat of Judah, Jehoram son of Ahab became king...” -- all political stuff.  The writer means to single out the Elijah event to show that it is outside and beyond the “business as usual” of narrating Israel’s political history.  God has taken Elijah, bodily, from this world, exempting him from death and receiving him into God’s glory.  It’s a symbol for us that Death has met its match, because God is triumphant.  We’re thereby assured that the same thing can happen in our time as when, historically, God’s power was demonstrated to all in Jesus’ Passion & Resurrection, and that it continues to happen with all humankind.  God’s saving power affects all of creation; new life and hope emerge from the darkness of Death.  We and our world are reoriented.  Just as Elisha, later in Chapter 2, immediately turns, by God’s power, to ministering to others, so God shows us in the Elijah event that the only meaning our human lives can have is in serving God by caring for one another.

When we turn to Mark’s Gospel passage (9:2-9), lo and behold, who should be there again but Elijah, along with Moses and with a now resplendent, transfigured Jesus on the mountain.  Mark declares that by this event, too, God’s ultimate, open restoration of all things in power is here.  In Jesus the reign of God has arrived.

If Peter, James, and John, who knew Jesus firsthand, had travelled with him, heard him proclaim God’s good news, if they, as Mark says, “did not know what to say, for they were terrified” at this sight, then what about us who live our lives so routinely and lackadaisically most of the time! What will it take to shake us up and open our eyes to become really serious about our commission to be God’s Church??

Just as Elisha had to shush the prophetic company as they mistakenly chittered on and on about religion and politics, so Jesus and his Father, in essence, shut the disciples up.  Peter is going on and on:  “Rabbi, isn’t just great that we’re here! Look at us.  We need to build some dwellings here: for you, for Moses, for Elijah, and [by implication] for me too.”

What Peter has in mind are the tents mentioned in Numbers (11:1-30).  Remember that scene in the wilderness? The people were not only on Moses’ back, but on God’s back: they hated the place; they hated the food; it was all much better back in Egypt when they had cucumbers and melons and leeks and onions and garlic, and now they’re tired of walking, and all God gives them is this...manna stuff.  Yech!  The writer of Numbers clues us in that, at this point, God has just about “had it” (v. 1): “...the Lord heard it and his anger was kindled.  Then the fire of the Lord burned against them, and consumed some outlying parts of the camp...”  Then Moses starts in (vv. 11-15): “Why do you treat me so badly? Why do I get stuck with the burden of these idiots? Did I conceive them or give them birth, that you should say to me ‘Carry them in your bosom as a nurse carries a child’?  Where do you expect me to get food for all of them -- you know there aren’t many supermarkets along the way out here! I can’t do it alone! It’s too much! If you’re going to treat me this way, then why not just shoot me now?!”  And what does God finally do: he tells Moses to gather together 70 elders and bring them to the tent of meeting “and they shall bear the burden of the people along with you...” (v. 17)  So it’s there at the tent where God send his spirit on some new “bureaucrats”, people who now have some political standing among the people.  

And that’s what Peter thinks is happening on the mountain, and he’d like to believe he’s now Jesus’ new bureaucrat.  Politics as usual; business as usual.  “Let’s get tents pitched and me in office as the new administrator!”

And don’t we in the Church repeat that same scenario over and over and over again! The Good News in Christ is right before our eyes and we miss it; we don’t want to be bothered to hear it, much less to live it.  Because it’s demanding; it costs.  It’s not business or religion or politics as usual.  And if you don’t believe it, look at the other 11 verses of 2 Corinthians, Chapter 4, the verses before and after the snippet which is today’s second reading (2 Corinthians 4:3-6): “Therefore, since it is by God’s mercy that we are engaged in this ministry, we do not lose heart. We have renounced the shameful things that one hides; we refuse to practise cunning or to falsify God’s word; but by the open statement of the truth we commend ourselves to the conscience of everyone in the sight of God. And even if our gospel is veiled, it is veiled to those who are perishing. In their case the god of this world has blinded the minds of the unbelievers, to keep them from seeing the light of the gospel of the glory of Christ, who is the image of God. For we do not proclaim ourselves; we proclaim Jesus Christ as Lord and ourselves as your slaves for Jesus’ sake. For it is the God who said, ‘Let light shine out of darkness’, who has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ. But we have this treasure in clay jars, so that it may be made clear that this extraordinary power belongs to God and does not come from us. We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be made visible in our bodies. For while we live, we are always being given up to death for Jesus’ sake, so that the life of Jesus may be made visible in our mortal flesh. So death is at work in us, but life in you. But just as we have the same spirit of faith that is in accordance with scripture—‘I believed, and so I spoke’—we also believe, and so we speak, because we know that the one who raised the Lord Jesus will raise us also with Jesus, and will bring us with you into his presence. Yes, everything is for your sake, so that grace, as it extends to more and more people, may increase thanksgiving, to the glory of God. So we do not lose heart. Even though our outer nature is wasting away, our inner nature is being renewed day by day. For this slight momentary affliction is preparing us for an eternal weight of glory beyond all measure, because we look not at what can be seen but at what cannot be seen; for what can be seen is temporary, but what cannot be seen is eternal.”

Annie Dillard, whom I mentioned before, writes: “Does anyone have the foggiest idea what sort of power we so blithely invoke? Or, as I suspect, does no one believe a word of it? The churches are children playing on the floor with their chemistry sets, mixing up a batch of TNT to kill a Sunday morning.  It is madness to wear ladies’ straw hats and velvet hats to church; we should all be wearing crash helmets.  Ushers should issue life preservers and signal flares; they should lash us to our pews...”

The Lenten season ahead of us is not time for “business as usual” in our spiritual lives, for worrying about ourselves and our wants, but time for prayer, fasting, and reaching out to others, for becoming one with our Master who “went not up to joy but first he suffered pain, and entered not into glory before he was crucified...”  God grant that we, “walking in the way of the cross, may find it none other than the way of life and peace, through Jesus Christ...our Savior...”

Choosing To Heal

The Gospel reading for this Sunday's liturgy, what we used to call Sexigesima Sunday, 60 days before Easter, is Luke 1:40-45.

"And a man with a scale-disease came up to him and saying, 'If you choose, you are able to cleanse me.' And he,  becoming incensed, stretched out his hand and touched him and said, 'I do choose; be cleansed.' And immediately the scale-disease left him, and he was cleansed. And Jesus, snorting with indignation, immediately cast him out and said to him,  'See that you say don't say anything to anyone, but go and show yourself to the priest and offer for your cleansing what Moses commanded, as a testimony to them.' But he went out and began to proclaim it all over and to spread the news abroad, so that Jesus was no longer able to go into a city openly, but had to remain out in deserted places. And the people came to him from everywhere." 


Where does one go with a text like this? Let me say right up front that I'm using the translation of Joel Marcus in his Anchor Bible commentary on Mark. The reason: seems that over the centuries various commentators have "softened" up some of the meaning of several key words which describe Jesus' state of mind. Instead of "moved with compassion" in v. 41, Jesus was actually expressing some anger, though not at the man, certainly. And in v. 43 "sternly" doesn't capture the classical Greek sense of snorting like a horse, or letting go an explosive breath, or growling. This is more than pickiness over small details. The differences in the accuracy of the words really affect the message here.


There are a lot of dynamics to the story which, in our culture, tend to be missed. First of all, this isn't a story about Jesus curing someone with Hansen's Disease, which we call leprosy. The term "scale-disease" covers a range of afflictions of the skin which were prevalent in Jesus' time. In either case, however, these were afflictions considered to threaten the cultic purity of the community, and thus there were strict Jewish laws about what such folks could do or where they could be. In effect, such people were "corpses". If you touched one of them, you were judged defiled. The afflicted had to run about in ragged clothing and with disheveled hair, and cry "Unclean!" if anyone approached. They were banished to live alone, outside the community.


So, this man, in approaching Jesus' venue and asking for healing, was where he should not have been and was at risk of defiling people around him. Jesus, too, did the unusual, actually the forbidden, by reaching out and touching the man while cleansing him. Undoubtedly, Jesus was quite aware of exactly what he was doing, and in a nod to Jewish law, he very emphatically sends the man straight to the priest in order to make the offering required by Mosaic Law for having been cleansed.


But in a remarkable reversal of situations at the conclusion of the story, the healed man goes out onto Jesus' "turf", among the people, and begins to tell anyone who'll listen about his miraculous cure. Meanwhile, because of this and because of all the publicity it engenders, Jesus is essentially consigned to "deserted places", and to have people come to him.  And they do, says Mark, "from everywhere".


A few observations: the man with the skin disease obviously has heard of Jesus and his healing power. He appears to have and to express faith. Now what about the anger thing with Jesus? As I said, it's not directed at the man, unless you want to see it as Jesus being bothered because he felt the man presumptuous, or because it was an inconvenient time. I seriously doubt that! I believe that Jesus, at that moment when this outcast of society comes to him, becomes so consumed by his loathing of all the elements of evil -- cultural, societal, the religious establishment, prejudice, etc., which have conspired to demean this human being, that he reacts, simply reacts, out of  his deep sense of righteousness and compassion. "I do choose, deliberately and decisively, to cleanse you into freedom from all that oppresses you." Further, I can imagine Jesus still grinding his teeth and growling as he sends the man off to the religious authorities who've made not only the man's, but Jesus' life also, so miserable. Nevertheless, and knowing that the Law with all its observances is only temporary and will be superseded soon in his dying and rising, Jesus humbly submits even to this.


This passage makes me think of two very immediate situations. The first is that just yesterday my son came out of a two-week stay in the hospital...again! I've lost track of how many times this has happened since his illness began almost 12 years ago. It makes me want to snort like a horse each time it happens! He gets so tired of it, and I know that I do. Yet, over and over, like the man who was cleansed, I have to keep saying to Jesus: "If you choose, you are able to heal Andrew." In ways that I don't understand and may never know in this lifetime, I know that Jesus does choose to bring healing.


The other example is occasioned by the tragic premature death this weekend of Whitney Houston. Again, I can't count the times even in my lifetime that this sad scenario has played itself out with other celebrities. It enrages me, it makes me growl, to see beautiful, talented, good young people end up throwing their lives away, whatever the reason, though many of the very same societal institutions, as in Jesus' time, bear some responsibility in all this. 


When all is said and done, I'm convinced that Jesus does choose to deal with the enormity of all our human misery. Perhaps his expectation of me is to rise above my own anger and disgruntlement, and to choose to do what I can to not be the occasion for anyone else's misfortune, suffering, oppression, or downfall. Somehow, I don't think Jesus will hold it against me if, in doing this, I go out and proclaim this message all over and spread the news abroad!   

St. Haralampos (Charalampos), c. 89-202 - Healer & Hieromartyr

Today is the closest thing to a namesday for me that I've ever been able to figure out. A friend of mine, of Greek descent, told me some years ago that Haralampos/Charalampos, with many variations, is "Harry" in Greek. Close enough!

Haralampos apparently was a hearty soul, since he's said to have lived to age 113, then was martyred by Roman soldiers. My first reaction to that is why didn't they just let the old guy go at that age! Just put him a prison and forget about him. Apparently, though, his refusal to sacrifice to idols and his eloquent confession of his faith was more than they could handle, thus the overkill. He is said to have been mercilessly tortured and then beheaded. Military brutality indeed!

Many miracles are said to have been worked through prayer and the intercession by St. Haralampos, among them the raising up of a dead young person, and the healing of a man tormented by demons for 35 years.

The story about the latter says that when Haralampos was being tortured, the persecuting emperor, Septimius Severus, learned about his miracle-working power and ordered an insane man to be brought to Haralampos so that the emperor could be convinced that Haralampos could, indeed, heal him. The devil is said to have tormented this man for 35 years, driving him into the wilderness and hill country, and hurling him into mud or into gorges. When the deranged man finally approached Haralampos, the demon sensed a sweet-smelling fragrance emanating from the holy man and shouted: "I beg you, servant of God, do not torment me before my time, but rather command me and I will depart. If you wish, I will tell you how it came about that I entered into this man." St. Haralampos commanded the demon to tell the story. "This man wanted to steal from his neighbor," said the devil, "and thought to himself: 'If I don't kill the man first, I'll not be able to seize his goods.' So he killed his neighbor. Catching him in the act of doing so, I entered him and behold for thirty-five years I have dwelt in him." Hearing this, St. Haralampos commanded the demon to depart from the man immediately and to leave him in peace. The demon did so, and the demented man was restored to health and became tranquil.

The emperor apparently either wasn't convinced or deemed it of little importance, because Haralampos still paid the price.

Fr. Robert Llewllyn (1909-2008)

Today the Order of Julian of Norwich commemorates the 4th anniversary of the death of Fr. Robert Llewelyn, who died on February 6, 2008, at age 98. His godly life in the Church of England and his expertise as a notable teacher of prayer endeared him to many others acrosss the world.

In his service as chaplain of the cell of Dame Julian in the town of Norwich, Fr. Robert made known to countless people the life and writings of this English mystic who lived in the small cell attached to a church at the turn of the 14th-15th centuries. He compiled a book of 200 of Dame Julian’s sayings, and it sold more than 100,000 copies. It was the first in a series of small devotional books authored by Fr. Robert. In 1994 he was awarded the Templeton Prize for his contribution to the advancement of religion in the field of spirituality.

Born Robert Charles Llewelyn at Exmouth, Devon, on July 6 1909, Robert’s great-grandmother, who lived on the Isle of Wight, was a friend of Queen Victoria. He was raised in a devout Anglican home, and first attended Pangbourne College, hoping to enter the Navy. Deciding that this didn’t suit him, Robert completed his schooling as head boy at King Edward VI School, Southampton. He read Mathematics at Pembroke College, Cambridge, then joined the teaching staff of Westminster School, where Peter Ustinov and Tony Benn were among his pupils.

Robert was ordained by Bishop Winnington Ingram in St Paul's Cathedral, London, and, while continuing to teach Mathematics, he spent much of the rest of his time in prayer and meditation in Westminster Abbey’s St. Faith’s Chapel. At this time he was greatly influenced by the Cowley Fathers, whose house was nearby.

In August, 1939 Fr. Robert took leave to travel to India. There he spent a year with the Cawnpore Brotherhood, a missionary community. It turned out that he was on the last passenger ship for several years to sail through the Suez Canal.

Fr. Robert found it impossible to get back to England after his year in India because of World War II, and he was cajoled into to becoming the headmaster of the Hallet War School. This had been established in an abandoned former Anglo-Indian school, in the foothills of the Himalayas. Robert was asked to create an emergency school for the children of British officials and others who could no longer be sent to public schools in England. A temporary teaching staff was recruited from various parts of the sub-continent, and the school, continuing until the end of the war, was a huge success. Its students’ examination results were comparable to those of long-established English schools.

In 1945 Fr. Robert returned to Westminster School as chaplain, but a year later was invited to go to the Bahamas to establish a diocesan school, St John's College, in Nassau. Under his six years of leadership, the school, with a large, mainly black, student body, thrived.

Fr. Robert was called back to India in 1951 to become headmaster of Sherwood College, the Lucknow diocesan boys' school, which had fallen on hard times and was in danger of closure. He reversed the situation there, and during his 15 years the enrollment reached 500, many of the pupils coming from East Africa. 

He returned to England in 1966, India but was immediately asked to return to serve as chaplain to the Wantage Sisters, an outpost of an English religious community at Poona. He also became priest-in-charge of St. Mary's Church, and eventually Archdeacon, though he preferred his ministry in the convent and the prayerful discipline of a monastic life.

Back in England again in 1972, Fr. Robert accepted an invitation to become Warden of Bede House at Staplehurst, Kent, the community of the enclosed Sisters of the Love of God. In addition to celebrating Mass and offering priestly ministry to the nuns, Llewelyn welcomed visitors and travelled to other parts of the country to conduct retreats.

In 1976, as he was about to retire, he received a request to go to Norwich and simply be a “presence” at the shrine of Dame Julian’s cell. The original cell occupied by Julian had long since disappeared, and the church to which it had been attached was itself severely damaged by bombing during the war. A tiny chapel had been rebuilt on what was believed to have been the site of Julian's cell, but wasn’t much used until after Fr. Robert, who publicized its existence to his many contacts arrived.

With a renewed interest in Julian, in large part thanks to Fr. Robert, who remained celibate his whole life, and increasing awareness of the place of women in the Church, Julian’s cell has become a significant focal point of devotion and inspiration for many people of all faiths from around the world. Robert’s contribution was to offer daily prayer, give talks on Julian, her life and Revelations, and, when required, to give spiritual counsel to those who journeyed there.

Fr. Robert’s own spirituality was in some ways very similar to that of Julian. He was aware of the supernatural in everything, and took very seriously reports of visions, voices, healings and coincidences. On one occasion, when wondering whether or not he should retire from his chaplaincy at the shrine, he asked God to remove a small but long-neglected lump from the back of his neck. "Lord, if you make the lump go down, I shall take it as a sign that I should continue my work." Within a few days the lump had disappeared, and Fr. Robert remained at the cell for until he was 81.

There were many influences on Fr. Robert’s spirituality. Certainly in no way neglecting the Anglican tradition, he made several visits to Medjugorje, in Bosnia, the site of six teenagers’ purported appearances from the Virgin Mary. Lourdes was less attractive to him, though he nonetheless made a number of visits there. By way of contrast, Fr. Robert also visited Holy Trinity Church, Brompton, where he had no difficulty in appreciating the spiritual factor in members’ of the congregation falling to the floor or speaking in tongues. His insights into prayer were also deepened by attending a Zen Buddhist retreat. 

Robert Llewellyn was a priest of unquestionable holiness of life and a warm human being. Undoubtedly, Fr. Robert read the following words, from Julian of Norwich’s Revelations of Divine Love, Chapter 64, and savored their meaning: "Suddenly, said our courteous Lord, you will be taken out of all your pain, all your sickness, all your unrest and all your woe. And you will come up above and you will have me for your reward, and you will be filled full of joy and bliss, and you will never again have any kind of pain, any kind of sickness, any kind of displeasure, no lack of will, but always joy and bliss without end. I saw that God rewarded man for the patience which he has in awaiting God's will and his time, and that man has patience to endure throughout the span of his life, because he does not know when the time for him to die will come. It is God's will that so long as the soul is in the body it should seem to a man that he is always on the point of being taken. For all this life and this longing we have here is only an instant of time, and when we are suddenly taken into bliss out of pain, then pain will be nothing."

Do We Get It?

The context of today’s first reading (Isaiah 40:21-31) is the Israelites’ exile in Babylon.  God is about to liberate them through an unlikely figure: Cyrus II of Persia.  The reading today comes just after the section in Chapter 40 where: 1) God has announced a new beginning, a new epoch; 2) God prods the people to begin preparing to return from their long exile, and also for God’s coming in glory; 3) God’s incomparability as Creator of all is highlighted and emphasized against merely human nations and empires who, compared to God, are nothing.

God begins by asking rhetorically: “Do you all get it yet??”  God is the origin, and the in-between, and the end of everything in our lives.

“Who created these?”, God asks, pointing at the magnificent and vast created world.  It’s only in the first lines of Genesis and in this passage that the Hebrew word bara = created is used.  It is God who is the Source of beginnings in our lives, God who is the Source sustaining us, and God who is the Source bringing everything to completion, in love.  “The Lord is the everlasting God.”  And God emphasizes this so much because we forget it so much, especially when preoccupied with the pain and suffering and loss in which we frequently find ourselves.  

In v. 27 Israel is on the “pity pot” because of such narrow vision: “My way is hidden from the Lord, and my right is disregarded by my God.” After all of God’s demonstrated promises and proofs throughout their past history, they’re frustrated, fearful that God has forgotten them and left them alone.  If they could look long enough at the big picture, they’d see that human suffering is only temporary, and more, that it’s a necessary part of God’s bigger design.  “God gives power to the faint, and strengthens the powerless...those who wait for the Lord [and not for the “good old days” or “what might have been”] shall renew their strength...”

Mark’s Gospel passage (1:29-39) helps us with this message from a different slant.  There are two parts.  Part I takes place at Capernaum.  Jesus is “on the road” which will eventually lead to Jerusalem and to his death.  (Hints of Lent, soon to come, and very appropriate on this Sunday, traditionally known as Septuagesima Sunday: 70 days before Easter.) There’s a progression leading from Christ’s Baptism, to his being led into the desert to be tested, then on to his calling those who would take up his cause, and finally to his being on the road to do his ministry.  Mark’s message is that Jesus’ agenda is the same as that of his Father and of the Spirit: namely, to bring God’s reign to reality.

You may notice some similarities to last week’s Gospel where: 1) Jesus, acting on his own, heals someone, the demon-possessed man; and 2) demons are present.  They mess up human lives and they fear Jesus.  The reason is because they “know” who Jesus is and that they are incapable of being present in our lives along with the Holy One.  Though many of the afflicted and of those standing around don’t understand, the demons definitely know who’s in charge.

As Jesus finishes a teaching session in the synagogue, Mark notes that he’s invited to Peter’s house where Peter’s mother-in-law presumably lives with him and his wife.  Though Peter’s wife isn’t mentioned specifically here, later, in 1 Corinthians, Paul very clearly refers to her as possibly accompanying Peter on his mission.  Perhaps the mother-in-law had the flu: “she was in bed with a fever”, always risky for an older person.  In his quiet, gentle way Jesus comes to her and takes her hand.  As the fever subsides, she gets up out of the bed, and heads for the kitchen to get them all something to eat, as any good Jewish mother would do!  Perhaps Mark inserts this little detail in his Gospel to hold up the mother-in-law as an example to us in looking beyond her own ills to the needs of others.

As so often happens in Jesus’ ministry, it doesn’t take long for the news to get around that he’s done something dramatic, even though he tries so hard to keep a lid on it [what the biblical 

scholars refer to as the “Messianic Secret”].  By sundown sick and possessed people are lined up, taking numbers at the home in order to take advantage of a free healing by the Rabbi.  Jesus responds tirelessly, healing those with “various diseases” and casting out “many demons”, whom Jesus doesn’t permit to speak.  

Mark then shifts immediately to Part II of the reading which takes place the following morning.  It represents Mark’s understanding of Jesus’ goals and objectives in proclaiming God’s reign as Jesus himself models them.

First, Jesus is up very early, before dawn, in order to pray.  You get the feeling, reading this, that it was part of Jesus’ regular routine.  He goes to a “deserted place”, though obviously not a desert, a place of silence.  He communes with the Holy Source of his healing ministry and of his preaching power.  But his peace is short-lived, because Peter and the gang come hunting for him, and loudly announce that “Everyone” is looking for Jesus! [Every parish rector/vicar on Sunday morning can identify with this!] It’s not that they’ve suddenly gotten inspired by his preaching about God’s coming reign.  They’re focussed on “getting healed”, getting a hand-out, preoccupied with their frustrations, their lack and their emptiness.

Jesus stops the disciples in their tracks by announcing: “We’re moving on, to the neighboring towns, so that I can get on with preaching the message, the Good News: ‘for that is what I 

came to do.’”  And Mark notes that he did just that: preached “throughout Galilee” in the synagogues and cast out demons.   Now think about this for a minute. Suppose you’d brought 

yourself, or  perhaps your spouse or your child to Capernaum, in an impossible physical or mental or spiritual condition, for healing, or at least for advice or a kind word -- and the healer says he’s moving on! What would you be thinking and feeling as you watch him and his band trudge down the road, away from your village?? What do you do now?? Where do you go?? Who will help?? And how, at that moment, would you be feeling toward God?? The fact is that we’ve all probably been there at that place.

Our lives are constantly full of new beginnings, both in happy times and, ironically, in the midst of suffering and difficulty.  Some years ago, just after a friend of mine split up with her partner, I reminded her that she could bet that some sort of new call from God was probably in that very situation. Our whole task as human beings and as Christian human beings is to prepare for return from our exiles, and to prepare for God’s coming in glory in our lives.  That won’t necessarily be a dramatic end-time event, but rather a quiet coming of God’s reign, through our simple ministries, which we help bring about in our own and others’ lives.

We need to continually ask ourselves: “Do we really get it??”:  i.e., the vision of Christ to bring all together in God who is Love through Jesus.  Even when we feel left out, frustrated, fearful, angry, God sustains us and renews our strength.  Perhaps the best way to know and to recognize that is in and through our demonstrated love for one another.  

The Spirit of Love enables us to do this through prayer; through proclaiming the Good News of Love; through speaking the truth to power, when necessary, whether in political or religious realms; through healing others by our thoughts, words, and deeds.

Over the past several years there’ve been many times when I felt a bit like those Israelites whom God addresses in Isaiah’s reading: on my “pity pot”, bemoaning “My way is hidden from the Lord...”, as I’ve watched the progression of my son’s illness, and almost his death at one point.  I know only too well what it’s like to feel left behind in frustration, anxiety, and agitation.  At the same time, though, I’ve discovered that prayer has become increasingly important, and I’ve uncomfortably experienced God confronting me, as God did the Israelites, with questions: “Have you not known; have you not heard...God gives power to the faint and strengthens the powerless...”  

I think that the way I really began to “get it” was through my own dear son, in the midst of his daily struggle to keep going, when in 2009 he sent me a poem he’d written: 

In all of us there is a meadow that exists. 

It is the place where God exists.

The harsh weather dries the meadow out 

to the point where there is no growth.

How can it be a meadow still? 

No green, no moisture, nothing that one can walk through 

feeling the soft tickle of spires of thin grass on the legs.

God lives in the deep cracks of the earth. 

God lives in the constant, cool breeze 

that flows through the vast and expansive land we [inhabit].

Gently touch the cracks of the earth -- the dry cold earth -- 

and God will always grow the green soft grace that soothes the

soul. 

You just don't need to see it or smell it 

to know that it will grow.

   

The Meeting Of The Lord

The Presentation of Jesus in the Temple, which is commemorated today, celebrates an early episode in the life of Jesus. St. Luke, in his Gospel (2:22–40), relates that Mary and Joseph took Jesus the infant to the temple in Jerusalem forty days after his birth, in order to complete Mary's ritual purification after childbirth, and to perform the redemption of the firstborn, as provided for in the Law of Moses (Leviticus 12, Exodus 13:12-15, etc.). Mothers were to offer a lamb, if means permitted; otherwise, “two doves or two young pigeons”. Joseph and Mary chose the second option of sacrifice. Leviticus 12:1-4 indicates that this event should take place forty days after birth for a male child, and so the Church’s liturgy designates February 2 for the Presentation, forty days after Christmas on December 25.


As Mary and Joseph enter the temple with Jesus, they encounter a man named Simeon. Luke describes Simeon as “righteous and devout”, noting that he had been promised that "he would not see death before he had seen the Lord's Messiah" (Luke 2:26). Simeon prays in words which we now refer to as the Nunc Dimittis, or Canticle of Simeon, which prophesied that Jesus would be “a light for revelation” to both Israel and the Gentile nations.


Simeon then says to Mary: "This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed...and a sword will pierce your own soul too...” (Luke 2:34-35).


An elderly prophetess, Anna was also in the Temple, and began to praise to God and to speak about the infant Jesus to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem (Luke 2:36-38).


In the Eastern Orthodox Church and some Eastern Catholic Churches, this feast is sometimes called Hypapante = “meeting”. Other traditional names include Candlemas, the Feast of the Purification of the Virgin, and the Meeting of the Lord. In the Roman Catholic and Episcopal Churches the Feast of the Presentation of Our Lord marks the conclusion of the season of Epiphany.


As mentioned earlier, the date of Candlemas is established by the date set for the Nativity of Jesus, and comes forty days afterwards. The Jewish Torah provided that a mother who had given birth to a male child was considered unclean for seven days. Further, she was to remain for thirty-three days "in the blood of her purification." Candlemas corresponds to the day on which Mary, according to Jewish law, would have participated in a ceremony of ritual purification. Luke relates that Mary was purified according to the religious law, followed by Jesus' presentation in the temple.


Traditionally the Western term Candlemas, or Candle Mass, referred to the practice of blessing beeswax candles on February 2, and of distributing some of them to church members for use throughout the year in their homes. In Poland the feast is called the "Holiday of the Mother of God of Thunder", referring to gromnicy, candles which were lit during thunder storms and placed in windows to ward off storms.


Within the Roman Catholic Church, since the liturgical revisions of Vatican Council II, references to candles and the purification of Mary have been de-emphasised in favor of the Presentation of Jesus in the Temple. Though it is certainly a pious fiction, according to over eight centuries of tradition, the swaddling clothes which Jesus the infant wore during the Presentation are kept and venerated in Dubrovnik Cathedral, Croatia.


The Feast of the Presentation is among the most ancient feasts of the Church. There are sermons on the Feast by 4th century bishops Methodius of Patara, Cyril of Jerusalem, Gregory the Theologian, and 5th century bishops Gregory of Nyssa and John Chrysostom. The earliest reference to specific liturgical rites surrounding the feast have been handed down to us from the travelling 4th century nun, Egeria, during her pilgrimage to the Holy Land. She reported that February 14 was a day solemnly kept in Jerusalem with a procession to Constantine I's Basilica of the Resurrection, with a homily preached on Luke 2:22, and a Divine Liturgy. This so-called Itinerarium Peregrinatio = Pilgrimage Itinerary of Egeria doesn’t, however, offer a specific name for the feast. The date she reports in Jerusalem at that time, would indicate that Christ's birth had been celebrated there on January 6.


Originally, the Feast of the Meeting of the Lord was a minor celebration. In 541 a terrible plague broke out in Constantinople, killing thousands. The Emperor of the Eastern Empire, Justinian I, in consultation with the Patriarch of Constantinople, ordered a period of fasting and prayer throughout the entire Empire. On the Feast of the Meeting of the Lord, great processions throughout the towns and villages were arranged, and a solemn prayer service to ask for deliverance from evils. The plague ceased, and in thanksgiving, the feast was elevated to a more solemn celebration in 542.


In Rome, the feast appears as early as the seventh and eighth centuries. There it carried for the first time the new title of the Feast of Purification of the Blessed Virgin Mary. Candlemas is the most ancient of all the festivals in honor of the Virgin Mary. The date of the feast in Rome was moved forward to February 2, since during the late fourth century the Roman feast of Christ's Nativity was introduced as December 25.


The feast actually spread slowly in the West. The tenth century Benedictional of St. Æthelwold, bishop of Winchester, contains a formula used for the blessing of candles. Candlemas also become important enough to find its way into the secular calendar. It became the traditional day to remove the cattle from the hay meadows, and from the field that was to be ploughed and sown in the spring. References to it are common in later medieval and early Modern literature; Shakespeare's Twelfth Night is recorded as having its first performance on Candlemas Day, 1602.

Down with the rosemary, and so


Down with the bays and mistletoe;


Down with the holly, ivy, all,


Wherewith ye dress'd the Christmas Hall

(Robert Herrick [1591–1674], Ceremony upon Candlemas Eve)

As the poem indicates, the eve of Candlemas was the day on which Christmas decorations and greenery were removed from people's homes, for traces of berries, holly, etc. will bring death among the congregation before another year is out. Another tradition holds that anyone who hears funeral bells tolling on Candlemas will soon hear of the death of a close friend or relative. Each toll of the bell represents a day that will pass before the unfortunate news is learned.


In Scotland, until a change in the law in 1991, and in much of northern England until the 18th century, Candlemas was one of the traditional quarter days when quarterly rents were due for payment, as well as the day for various other business transactions, including the hiring of servants.


In the United Kingdom, good weather at Candlemas is taken to indicate severe winter weather later: "If Candlemas Day is clear and bright, / winter will have another bite. / If Candlemas Day brings cloud and rain, / winter is gone and will not come again." It is also alleged to be the date that bears emerge from hibernation to inspect the weather as well as wolves, who if they choose to return to their lairs on this day is interpreted as meaning severe weather will continue for another forty days at least. Thus, our American tradition of “Groundhog Day”. The earliest American reference to Groundhog Day can be found at the Pennsylvania Dutch Folklore Center at Franklin and Marshall College: “Last Tuesday, the 2nd, was Candlemas day, the day on which, according to the Germans, the Groundhog peeps out of his winter quarters and if he sees his shadow he pops back for another six weeks nap, but if the day be cloudy he remains out, as the weather is to be moderate.” (February 4, 1841 — from Morgantown, Berks County (Pennsylvania) storekeeper James Morris' diary)


The Carmina Gadelica, an important collection of Scottish folklore, refers to a serpent coming out of the mound on Latha Fheill Bride, as the Scots call Candlemas. This rhyme is still used in the West Highlands and Hebrides:


“Moch maduinn Bhride, Thig an nimhir as an toll; Cha bhoin mise ris an nimhir, Cha bhoin an nimhir rium.
Early on Bride's morn, the serpent will come from the hollow. I will not molest the serpent, nor will the serpent molest me.
Thig an nathair as an toll, la donn Bride Ged robh tri traighean dh' an t-sneachd air leachd an lair.
The serpent will come from the hollow on the brown day of Bride, Though there should be three feet of snow on the flat surface of the ground.”


In France, Candlemas (La Chandeleur) is celebrated with crêpes, which must be eaten only after 8:00 PM. If the cook can flip a crêpe while holding a coin in the other hand, the family is assured of prosperity throughout the coming year.


In Italy, traditionally, La Candelora is considered the last cold day of winter.


In Tenerife, Spain, February 2 is the feast of the Virgin of Candelaria, patron of the Canary Islands.


In Southern and Central Mexico, and Guatemala City, Candlemas (Día de La Candelaria) is celebrated with tamales. Tradition indicates that on January 5, the night before the Epiphany, whoever gets one or more of the few plastic or metal dolls (originally coins) buried within the Rosca de Reyes must pay for the tamales and throw a party on Candlemas. In certain regions of Mexico, this is the day on which the figure of the infant Jesus of each household is taken up from the Nativity scene and dressed up in various colorful, whimsical outfits.


Sailors are often reluctant to set sail on Candlemas Day, believing that any voyage begun then will end in disaster. Given the frequency of severe storms in February, perhaps this makes some sense.


The third prayer of the Blessing of the Candles is a beautiful summation of the message of this feast, and gives us much upon which to reflect:


“Lord Jesus Christ, the true light, you enlighten everyone coming into this world: pour your blessing upon these candles and sanctify them with the light of your grace. Mercifully grant that as these light, enkindled with visible fire, dispel the darkness of night, so our hearts, illumined by invisible fire, that is, the brightness of the Holy Spirit, may be free from the blindness of every vice; that our mental eye may be so purified that we may perceive those things which are pleasing to you and are profitable to our salvation, so that after the dark perils of this world, we may deserve to come into that never-failing light: through you, Christ Jesus, Savior of the world, who in perfect Trinity live and reign, God, world without end. Amen.”

Brigid of Kildare: Animals, Fire & Beer

There are many stories about Brigid of Kildare's concern for the needs of others, including animals. One tells of her taming of a wolf at the request of a local chieftain whose dog had died when a peasant accidentally killed it. She also loved birds, as is evidenced in the Gaelic name given to the oyster-catching bird: gall-brigade. On one occasion, according to her biographer, Cogitosus, she saw some ducks swimming in the water and occasionally taking wing. Overcome with tenderness, she watched as the flock took off and flew towards her. She took them in hand and embraced them tenderly, then released them to fly away again. Cogitosus says: "And as they did so she praised God the Creator of all living things, to whom all life is subject, and for the services of whom all life is gift." Another time, it is said, a wild boar was being hunted and charged out of the forest and, in panic, ended up in the midst of Brigid's herd of pigs. When she saw the boar, she blessed it and it became calm, settling down quietly with the rest of the herd.

Kildare, where Brigid gathered a group of women, and later men, into a community of nuns and monks, had formerly been a pagan shrine where a sacred fire was kept perpetually burning.  Instead of stamping out the fire, Brigid and her nuns kept it going, but interpreted it in a Christian way. This was in keeping with the general process in Ireland whereby Druidism was supplanted by Christianity with minimal opposition. Many Druids felt that their own beliefs were a partial and tentative insight into the nature of God, and many recognized in Christianity what they'd been looking for.

Perhaps my favorite bit of lore about the "Mary of the Gaels" is the prayer attributed to St. Brigid:

I'd like to give a lake of beer to God;

I'd love the heavenly host to be tippling there for all eternity

I'd love the men of heaven to live with me to dance and sing

If they wanted, I'd put at their disposal vats of suffering

White cups of love. I'd give them with a heart and a half;

Sweet pitchers of mercy I'd offer to every man.

I'd make heaven a cheerful spot

Because the happy heart is true.

I'd make people contented for their own sake

I'd like Jesus to love me too.

I'd like the people of heaven to gather from all the parishes around;

I'd give special welcome to the women

The three Marys of great renown.

I'd sit with the men, the women, of God

There by the lake of beer;

We'd be drinking good health for ever

And every drop would be a prayer.