First reading: Numbers 6:22-27 Gospel: Luke 2:16-21
What’s in a name?
Well, first, tonight we are celebrating the eve of the feast celebrated on January 1, and that feast has different names, depending on the era and tradition in which it was celebrated. For most of the church’s history, and still in churches following the Byzantine calendar, January 1 has been celebrated as the Feast of the Circumcision, since it is the eighth day of Jesus’ life if one celebrates his birth on December 25, and Jewish boys are circumcised on the eighth day of their lives. In the modern Roman Rite, returning to an ancient tradition, this day is celebrated as the Solemnity of Mary the Mother of God, even though the traditional gospel recounting the circumcision is still read. And our Anglican and Lutheran sisters and brothers celebrate the day as the Holy Name of Jesus, since it was at Jesus’s bris, or circumcision, that he received his name. Since our Independent Catholic tradition has roots in the Roman, Anglican, and Byzantine traditions – I propose that we celebrate all three!
In our first reading, we hear of the solemn blessing with which the priests blessed the people of Israel. Within the Jewish tradition, this blessing is still used to this day, given by those believed to descend from the family of Aaron, and the solemn blessing is one of the holiest moments of Jewish liturgy. God’s most sacred name, thought by scholars to have been pronounced something like “Yahweh”, is invoked, a name so holy that it came to be uttered only once a year, on the Day of Atonement, by the high priest in the temple. The rest of the time, whenever the sacred name appeared in the text, the term “the LORD” was substituted, as it was in the version we just heard. In most English translations, you can tell when the sacred name is used by the fact that “LORD” is in all capital letters. In time, even the Hebrew word for “Lord” came to be deliberately mispronounced by Orthodox Jews outside of prayer. And the name means “He/She causes to become”. So the One who causes all things to come into being is the one who blesses us, preserves us, and gives us peace – and the word for “peace” in Hebrew, shalom, is derived from the root for “whole” or “complete” – so the peace that the Source of all being grants is not merely the absence of conflict, but a state of wholeness.
In the gospel, we hear that Jesus is initiated into the covenant of Israel through his circumcision, and he is given the name “Jesus”, which is how we pronounce the Greek form of the Hebrew name “Yehoshua”, or “Joshua”. That name means “Yahweh is salvation”. And we as Christians believe, as the foundation of our faith, that Jesus is Yahweh, God, incarnate – that the One who causes all things to come into being chose to accept the limitations of becoming a human being subject to the limitations of time and space in order to give us salvation, to free us from those very limitations by giving us eternal life. And how better to express that than by being born to a couple too poor to afford a room in the inn, being born in a dirty stable?
And what should be our response to this salvation, this freedom from sin, death, and all of the other limitations of humanity? We hear that “Mary kept all these things, reflecting on them in our heart”. Mary is humanity responding to God with a resounding “Yes!” to all of the ridiculously impossible things God offers, starting with the Annunciation. And she draws closer to God by reflecting on the mystery of the Incarnation, reflecting on it in her heart, or as another translation puts it – “pondering”. Let us also meditate on this great mystery of our faith, that God has taken on human flesh in the person of Jesus Christ. And let us know that it was not merely an event from 2,000 years ago – Christ is present in our midst, in our individual lives, in our community, most tangibly in the Eucharist. The One who causes all things to come into being is our salvation – Jesus Christ.
Blessed be the Name of Jesus! and Happy New Year!
Christmas Midnight Mass Homily
Epistle: Titus 2:11-14 Gospel: Luke 2:1-14
One of the most interesting devotions ever to develop within Catholicism is the Infant of Prague. This model [at this point, I placed a particularly garish example of one on the altar], rescued by a friend from the garbage where grandchildren of a recently deceased devout grandmother had discarded a wealth of devotional items, has the cope painted on, but some models are designed so that one can make cloth copes in the colors of the different liturgical seasons, and change them. Sort of a “dress-up doll” for priests! Around its neck, I have the Infant of Prague chaplet.
The original statue, in a convent in Prague, was damaged in a war, so that the hands were destroyed, and in the seventeenth century, when the church’s priest was praying, he heard a voice say to him, "Have pity on Me and I will have pity on you. Give Me My hands and I will give you peace. The more you honor Me, the more I will bless you." He repaired the hands, and various miracles occurred, and the devotion to the Infant of Prague was born.
We hear, in today’s epistle, that “the grace of God has appeared, offering salvation to all people”. The grace of God appeared in the birth of Jesus Christ, the Eternal Word of God who took on humanity so that we human beings might take on divinity, restoring the image of God in which we were created, but which has been broken through sin.
And this miraculous birth, which took place through the grace of God, could only take place with Mary’s cooperation, through her saying “yes” to the divine call, communicated by the angel Gabriel.
Christ’s Incarnation was not just an event that took place 2,000 years ago, however. It is continued in our lives as Christians each time we, like Mary, say “yes” to God’s call to us in our daily life. Christ is born in the stable of our mundane, ordinary lives, whenever we show love to one another, whenever we feed the hungry or clothe the naked, whenever we bring about peace and justice in our small part of the world.
The Infant Christ says to us today “Give Me My hands, and I will give you peace.” The call is not to repair the hands on a broken statue – the call is to offer our own hands to Christ, to do His work today. So when you receive the Infant Christ in Holy Communion in a few moments, offer Him your hands – and whenever you see a statue of the Infant of Prague, or the figure of the Infant in a crèche – give Him your hands. Christ will give you the blessing of peace. Merry Christmas!
One of the most interesting devotions ever to develop within Catholicism is the Infant of Prague. This model [at this point, I placed a particularly garish example of one on the altar], rescued by a friend from the garbage where grandchildren of a recently deceased devout grandmother had discarded a wealth of devotional items, has the cope painted on, but some models are designed so that one can make cloth copes in the colors of the different liturgical seasons, and change them. Sort of a “dress-up doll” for priests! Around its neck, I have the Infant of Prague chaplet.
The original statue, in a convent in Prague, was damaged in a war, so that the hands were destroyed, and in the seventeenth century, when the church’s priest was praying, he heard a voice say to him, "Have pity on Me and I will have pity on you. Give Me My hands and I will give you peace. The more you honor Me, the more I will bless you." He repaired the hands, and various miracles occurred, and the devotion to the Infant of Prague was born.
We hear, in today’s epistle, that “the grace of God has appeared, offering salvation to all people”. The grace of God appeared in the birth of Jesus Christ, the Eternal Word of God who took on humanity so that we human beings might take on divinity, restoring the image of God in which we were created, but which has been broken through sin.
And this miraculous birth, which took place through the grace of God, could only take place with Mary’s cooperation, through her saying “yes” to the divine call, communicated by the angel Gabriel.
Christ’s Incarnation was not just an event that took place 2,000 years ago, however. It is continued in our lives as Christians each time we, like Mary, say “yes” to God’s call to us in our daily life. Christ is born in the stable of our mundane, ordinary lives, whenever we show love to one another, whenever we feed the hungry or clothe the naked, whenever we bring about peace and justice in our small part of the world.
The Infant Christ says to us today “Give Me My hands, and I will give you peace.” The call is not to repair the hands on a broken statue – the call is to offer our own hands to Christ, to do His work today. So when you receive the Infant Christ in Holy Communion in a few moments, offer Him your hands – and whenever you see a statue of the Infant of Prague, or the figure of the Infant in a crèche – give Him your hands. Christ will give you the blessing of peace. Merry Christmas!
Unity in the Independent Sacramental Movement
There has been a lot of talk lately within the Independent Sacramental Movement about "unity", and I would like to throw in my two cents.
First, some people look at our movement and see the lack of a central organization controlling things and see disunity. They see a lack of neatly organized regional dioceses, with only one bishop per region and only one diocese per region, and see disunity. They see small worshipping communities meeting in homes or rented space, clergy who must work at a secular job to make money, and see a failed model of church.
I look at the same things and see something different. First, having been in both the Episcopal and Roman Catholic denominations, I know that mainstream churches have a lot less unity than many realize. The Episcopal Church's struggles have occurred in the newspapers, with splits, and constant fighting, and lawsuits over property. While the structure of the Roman Catholic denomination allows it to enforce a greater degree of uniformity, having been in both a traditionalist parish and a liberal order, I know that there is a lot of hostility and resentment between liberals and conservatives, traditionalists and modernists, and there are different camps within that denomination that have as little to do with one another as possible, each seeing itself as the authentic expression of Roman Catholicism.
When I look at our movement, I see a movement that empowered African Americans through the consecration of George McGuire and the establishment of the African Orthodox Church at a time when they were relegated to second class in mainstream denominations. I see a movement that consecrated a woman as bishop eight decades before the Episcopalians got around to it. I see a movement that reached out to gay people in 1946, long before any other denomination would touch us with a ten-foot pole. I see a movement that welcomed people attached to the Tridentine Mass and the 1928 Book of Common Prayer when they were persecuted by the Roman Catholic and Episcopal denominations.
None of this would have been possible had we had a centralized authority like the Roman or Anglican denominations.
When I look at our movement, I see a multitude of small, close-knit communities where the faith of Christ is practiced by committed Christians, with the church defined by networks of relationships and not by accidents of geography. I see a movement where men and women are so committed to the ordained ministry that they exercise it without a paycheck, and a church willing to accept the gifts of those rejected by other churches. I see a movement that is committed to inclusion. And while I do see some problem clergy and some troubled communities, I've seen those in the Episcopal and Roman Catholic denominations as well. (I'm not picking on these two denominations in this post, by the way, it's just that most of those in our movement seem to have been in one or the other or both of these two denominations, and they are the denominations, along with the Eastern Orthodox, that our movement most often compares itself to, and I don't know the Eastern Orthodox church well enough to comment, though I suspect it has the same problems as all other churches, since its members are human beings.) I'm reminded of Jesus' parable of the wheat and the tares -- the owner of the field counsels against pulling up the tares, for fear of also destroying some of the wheat.
My vision of unity does not involve reducing the number of jurisdictions, or restricting the creation of new ones, or of attempting to form some sort of grand megajurisdction. Rather, I would like to see jurisdictions get to know one another (and take the time to do that well before moving on to other steps). I would like to see us regard ourselves as a family, much as churches with congregational polity do, and work collaboratively where possible. For example, when I receive inquiries from those interested in ordination, if I think there is another jurisdiction they might fit in better with, I refer them. Local interjurisdictional groups can meet together for fellowship. There can be national gatherings for fellowship and worship (and hopefully nothing else).
However, I am extremely suspicious of efforts to create institutions beyond the jurisdictional level. First, such institutions divert energy and resources away from what ought to be our first priority, which is the creation and sustenance of local parish communities. Second, they will inevitably attempt to control the jurisdictions, which will not work, and which will only create more animosity. Problem jurisdictions will always be with us, interjurisdictional efforts to control them won't work, and the efforts to do so would be better expended on creating healthy commuities. Like the wheat and the tares, let God deal with sorting out which is which. If you see a jurisdiction that seems unhealthy, stay away, but pray for them, and rather than attacking them, build up your own.
So I hope that the current move for unity will achieve REAL unity, that based on genuine community and real relationships, and not the creation of yet another organization that, like all its predecessors in our movement, will fail and only divert efforts and energy from building church.
First, some people look at our movement and see the lack of a central organization controlling things and see disunity. They see a lack of neatly organized regional dioceses, with only one bishop per region and only one diocese per region, and see disunity. They see small worshipping communities meeting in homes or rented space, clergy who must work at a secular job to make money, and see a failed model of church.
I look at the same things and see something different. First, having been in both the Episcopal and Roman Catholic denominations, I know that mainstream churches have a lot less unity than many realize. The Episcopal Church's struggles have occurred in the newspapers, with splits, and constant fighting, and lawsuits over property. While the structure of the Roman Catholic denomination allows it to enforce a greater degree of uniformity, having been in both a traditionalist parish and a liberal order, I know that there is a lot of hostility and resentment between liberals and conservatives, traditionalists and modernists, and there are different camps within that denomination that have as little to do with one another as possible, each seeing itself as the authentic expression of Roman Catholicism.
When I look at our movement, I see a movement that empowered African Americans through the consecration of George McGuire and the establishment of the African Orthodox Church at a time when they were relegated to second class in mainstream denominations. I see a movement that consecrated a woman as bishop eight decades before the Episcopalians got around to it. I see a movement that reached out to gay people in 1946, long before any other denomination would touch us with a ten-foot pole. I see a movement that welcomed people attached to the Tridentine Mass and the 1928 Book of Common Prayer when they were persecuted by the Roman Catholic and Episcopal denominations.
None of this would have been possible had we had a centralized authority like the Roman or Anglican denominations.
When I look at our movement, I see a multitude of small, close-knit communities where the faith of Christ is practiced by committed Christians, with the church defined by networks of relationships and not by accidents of geography. I see a movement where men and women are so committed to the ordained ministry that they exercise it without a paycheck, and a church willing to accept the gifts of those rejected by other churches. I see a movement that is committed to inclusion. And while I do see some problem clergy and some troubled communities, I've seen those in the Episcopal and Roman Catholic denominations as well. (I'm not picking on these two denominations in this post, by the way, it's just that most of those in our movement seem to have been in one or the other or both of these two denominations, and they are the denominations, along with the Eastern Orthodox, that our movement most often compares itself to, and I don't know the Eastern Orthodox church well enough to comment, though I suspect it has the same problems as all other churches, since its members are human beings.) I'm reminded of Jesus' parable of the wheat and the tares -- the owner of the field counsels against pulling up the tares, for fear of also destroying some of the wheat.
My vision of unity does not involve reducing the number of jurisdictions, or restricting the creation of new ones, or of attempting to form some sort of grand megajurisdction. Rather, I would like to see jurisdictions get to know one another (and take the time to do that well before moving on to other steps). I would like to see us regard ourselves as a family, much as churches with congregational polity do, and work collaboratively where possible. For example, when I receive inquiries from those interested in ordination, if I think there is another jurisdiction they might fit in better with, I refer them. Local interjurisdictional groups can meet together for fellowship. There can be national gatherings for fellowship and worship (and hopefully nothing else).
However, I am extremely suspicious of efforts to create institutions beyond the jurisdictional level. First, such institutions divert energy and resources away from what ought to be our first priority, which is the creation and sustenance of local parish communities. Second, they will inevitably attempt to control the jurisdictions, which will not work, and which will only create more animosity. Problem jurisdictions will always be with us, interjurisdictional efforts to control them won't work, and the efforts to do so would be better expended on creating healthy commuities. Like the wheat and the tares, let God deal with sorting out which is which. If you see a jurisdiction that seems unhealthy, stay away, but pray for them, and rather than attacking them, build up your own.
So I hope that the current move for unity will achieve REAL unity, that based on genuine community and real relationships, and not the creation of yet another organization that, like all its predecessors in our movement, will fail and only divert efforts and energy from building church.
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