An Intimate God

St. Paul’s Church in Bergen, Jersey City NJ

December 28, 2014

The First Sunday after Christmas

Isaiah 61:10-62:3

Psalm 147

Galatians 3:23-25; 4:4-7

John 1:1-18

An Intimate God

            Merry Christmas!

            Christmas got off to a beautiful start here at St. Paul’s.

            I wish you all could have been here.

            In fact, I wish you all could have been here for each of our Christmas services.

            Each was a little different but all were beautiful and joyful.

            For me, one of the real highlights of Christmas was the Christmas Pageant offered by the children of St. Paul’s and Incarnation, led by Gail Blache-Gill and a team of dedicated and rather patient adults.

            It was the first pageant we’ve had here in many years – and really helped make it feel like Christmas.

            As you’d expect, the kids were adorable in their colorful costumes, dressed as John the Baptist, the angels, the shepherds, the three wise “ones,” sheep, and of course Mary, Joseph and the Baby Jesus.

            The Baby Jesus was played by a real-life baby, our own Lena Jacobs. She was absolutely serene through the whole thing. In fact, I think she slept through the whole thing!

            She was watched over by her real-life mother, Velma, who was cleverly disguised in a First Century costume, maybe as a midwife.

            Seeing the story of Jesus’ birth acted out made real for me – and I hope for others who were there – the intimacy of what happened in Bethlehem long ago.

            The Word becomes flesh.

            God becomes one of us.

             God joins us here in our messy world and in our messy lives as a real live flesh and blood baby “born of a woman” (as Paul notes in the passage we heard today from the Letter to the Galatians).

            It’s an intimate moment.

            You know, we have all different kinds of images of God.

            One of the most common is the old man with the flowing beard sitting a throne far, far away, up in heaven looking down at us, perhaps judging us when we mess up as we always do.

            But, I’m pretty sure that one of the lessons – one of the messages – one of the truths about Christmas is that God isn’t like that at all.

            No, God is an intimate God.

            In and through Jesus, God enters the world in the most intimate, most personal, way imaginable.

            God is an intimate God.

            Throughout his life, we know that Jesus went off sometimes by himself to pray. But, it seems that most of the time he was with people. He was close, intimate, with others.

            His disciples were always around him, listening to (and trying to understand) his teaching, eating and drinking together, and, probably, like all friends, laughing at jokes and old stories.

            In the Gospel of John, Jesus’ first sign is changing water into wine during the wedding party at Cana.

            We’re told that Jesus often invites himself over to people’s houses for dinner, including one time when a woman bathed his feet with her tears and dried them with her hair.

            We’re told that Jesus spit into soil to make clay and put it on the man’s eyes, restoring his sight.

            We’re told that when the crowd was going to stone the woman caught in adultery, Jesus at first just sat there, writing in the ground with his finger. After the accusers all dropped their stones and went away, it was just Jesus alone with the woman. “Go, and sin no more,” he told her.

            And after the Resurrection, we’re told that Jesus appears to the disciples and invites the doubting Apostle Thomas to touch his wounds.

            After the Resurrection, we’re told that Jesus breathes the Holy Spirit on his disciples, strengthening them – strengthening us – to continue his work in the world.

            God is an intimate God.

            Sometimes we think that God will appear with trumpets and drums and bright light. Sometimes we think that God will enter our lives in the most spectacular way.

            Well, God’s entrance into our lives is spectacular but it’s nothing like Hollywood special effects.

            Instead, God appears in, enters into, the most intimate moments of our lives.

            We first gaze into the eyes of our parents.

            We get baptized.

            We know failure and success, despair and hope, rejection and acceptance.

            We help others and others help us.

            We fall in love.

            We give our lives to another.

            We hold and caress the hand of another.

            We give birth and gaze into the eyes of our children.

            We take the bread and wine – Jesus’ very body and blood – into our hands, into our bodies, and into our hearts.

            We get sick.

             We grow old.

            We face death.

            At all of those moments throughout our lives – and so many more – our intimate God is right there - God is right here - with us, supporting us, strengthening us, loving us.

            It’s Christmas.

            And one of the lessons – one of the messages – one of the truths - about Christmas is that God isn’t a faraway God.

            In and through Jesus, God enters the world in the most intimate, most personal, way imaginable.

            God is an intimate God.

            Merry Christmas.

            Amen. 

Time to Put Down Our Candle Snuffers

St. Paul’s Church in Bergen & Church of the Incarnation, 

Jersey City NJ

December 25, 2014

Christmas Day

Isaiah 52:7-10

Psalm 98

Hebrews 1:1-4

John 1:1-14

Time to Put Down Our Candle Snuffers

            Merry Christmas!

            Last night we had two beautiful, though very different, Christmas celebrations.

            At the early service, the children of St. Paul’s and Incarnation, directed by Gail Blache-Gill, did a wonderful job telling the story of Jesus’ birth in the Christmas Pageant.

            And then at 10:00 we had an amazing service filled with glorious music as we celebrated the birth of Jesus, the birth of Emmanuel, the arrival of God-with-us.

            We celebrated incarnation - the mind-blowing idea – the most amazing gift – that in and through Jesus, God has become one of us.

            These were both big and kind of complicated services and there’s always the possibility that there will be mistakes – a child will develop stage fright, a singer will miss a cue, a musician will play a wrong note, the priest loses his place in the book, an acolyte or Eucharistic Minister drops something.

            Truthfully, there were a few little things that didn’t go quite according to plan but, fortunately, no big mistakes last night.

            Sometimes things go wrong at regular services, too.

            One of the most common is when an acolyte or worship leader has trouble putting out a candle.

            This has happened to me and I know it’s happened to some of you.

            Maybe you’ve seen this happen.

            They hold the candle snuffer over the flame for a moment or two. They think the candle is extinguished. They lift the snuffer and, wouldn’t you know it, the flame still flickers.

            I know this can be upsetting, embarrassing, to the person trying to extinguish the candle but I have to admit I kind of like when it happens.

            First of all, it’s a little funny.

            But, it kind of moves me because it reminds me of one of the verses I just read from the Gospel of John:

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

            If you were here last night, you’ll remember we heard the familiar account of Jesus’ birth in the Gospel of Luke.

            Luke sets the story in a particular time and place.

            Augustus was emperor of Rome and Quirinius was governor of Syria. There was a census so a heavily pregnant Mary and her husband Joseph return to his ancestral hometown of Bethlehem where Mary gives birth in circumstances primitive even for First Century Palestine.

            There was no room at the inn so Mary gave birth in a stable or maybe a cave.

            Mary placed her newborn son in a manger, a feeding trough meant for animals.

            The angel announces the birth of the Son of God not to the leaders of Bethlehem, not to the wealthy and well-connected, but to the poor, probably quite stinky, shepherds who later glorify and praise God for all they had heard and seen.

            Luke gives us a detailed story of incarnation. God has become one of us in Bethlehem.

            This morning we heard another take on the birth of Jesus, this time from the Gospel of John.

            John doesn’t get into the earthy details of Jesus’ birth.

            Instead, John pulls way back and goes as wide as can be imagined, taking a cosmic view of Jesus’ birth.

            He echoes the story of creation in the Book of Genesis, opening his gospel with, “In the beginning.”

            “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God…”

             For John the “Word” is God’s creative power.

            John writes, “All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being.”

            John concludes this part of the gospel, called the Prologue…”And the Word became flesh and lived among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory as a of a father’s only son, full of grace and truth.”

            The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.

            Incarnation.

            But, John uses two other images - light and darkness – and looks ahead to Jesus’ life and ministry, hinting at Good Friday and Easter.

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

            The Word became flesh and lived among us, yet, for the most part, people just like us rejected Jesus and some turned against him, finally nailing him to a tree.

            But, John knows – and, in our hearts, we know - that the darkness did not – cannot – overcome the light.

            In my sermon last night I talked about how the world is a mess. As the Prophet Isaiah writes, “Darkness covers the land and deep gloom enshrouds the peoples.”

            There’s a mess right here in Jersey City where so many people live in fear and despair, where the gap between the rich and the poor grows ever wider.

            There’s darkness right here that we saw at last week’s homeless memorial service where Old Bergen Church was packed with homeless people looking to pray, looking for warmth, looking for a good meal, looking for hope.

            And, of course, there’s the deep gloom in many of our own lives – our dread and regret, our envy and selfishness.

            Yet, even in the biggest mess – especially in the deepest gloom - Christ is right there – right here – with us.

            The light shines in the darkness.

            But, so often, we get so wrapped up in our own stuff or we feel so unworthy or sad or angry that we turn away from the light. We close our eyes to the light.

            And, sometimes, we are even like an acolyte holding a snuffer, trying to extinguish the light.

            But, the good news this Christmas – the best news ever – is that we can’t.

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

            You know, here in church, eventually the acolyte – or somebody else - is able to put out the candle

            But, try as we might, we can’t extinguish – we can’t overcome - the light of Christ.

            So, let’s stop trying.

            My prayer this Christmas is that we will, at long last, with God’s help, put down our spiritual snuffers and stop trying to extinguish the light.
            My prayer is that we will be incarnation – that we will be the Body of Christ right here in Jersey City – that we will allow the light of Christ to shine in and through us, illuminating the darkness that is all around us.

            It’s time to put down our snuffers.

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

            Merry Christmas.

            Amen. 

Incarnation

St. Paul’s Church in Bergen & Church of the Incarnation, 
Jersey City NJ

December 24, 2014

Christmas Eve

Isaiah 62:6-12

Psalm 97

Titus 3:4-7

Luke 2:1-20

Incarnation

            “But the angel said to the shepherds, ‘Do not be afraid; for see I am bringing you good news of great joy for all people; to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.”

            Merry Christmas to you all.

            It’s been a dismal few days weather-wise around here. Warmer than we’d probably like. And, I don’t know about you, but to me, rain showers and drizzle don’t feel very much like Christmas.

            Actually, as I’ve thought about it, the gloomy weather kind of captures the mood of a lot of people.             You may have noticed that the world is kind of a mess these days.

            In just the past couple of weeks many of us have been shocked and dismayed by decisions made by grand juries in Missouri and Staten Island and elsewhere. There have been large protests against the use of what many consider excessive force by the police and at least the perception of entrenched racism in our legal system.

            Last week we were horrified by the assassination of two New York City police officers, Rafael Ramos and Wenjian Liu by a deranged man, highlighting the risks police all around the country take every single day just to do their job, and reminding us here in Jersey City of the assassination this past summer of Officer Melvin Santiago.

            What else?

            Well, let’s see. The Russian economy is collapsing, the North Koreans hacked Sony Pictures leading to the temporary shelving of a movie, Ebola continues to rage in parts of West Africa, and bitter division and violence poisons much of the Middle East, including the town of Bethlehem.

            And for many of us there are all the usual and all too difficult challenges and fears of life – unemployment or underemployment, not enough money to pay the bills, disappointments big and small, ruptured relationships, illness and the shadow of death.

            Yet, in the midst of this mess, even with all the rain, it really is Christmas!

            The angel said to the shepherds long ago and says to us today, “Do not be afraid; for see I am bringing you good news of great joy for all people; to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.”

            The world’s a mess and we might be a mess but it really is Christmas!

            Look around. The church has never looked more beautiful.

            Our music tonight – I’ll say it – rivals what’s being played and sung in the world’s grandest churches.

            And, what gives me – and I hope you – great joy, is that, for what is I’m sure the first time ever, our two neighboring Episcopal churches – St. Paul’s and Incarnation - are celebrating Christmas together!

            This makes me so happy for many reasons but one kind of selfish reason is that it gives me a convenient way to talk about Incarnation – not the church but the mind-blowing idea – the most amazing gift – that in and through Jesus, God has become one of us.

            Incarnation.

            That’s what we’re remembering and celebrating tonight.

            Incarnation.

            Incarnation is such a beautiful word – and a fine name for a church.

            Incarnation means “enfleshment.”

            At Christmas we celebrate that in and through Jesus, God loves us enough to join us right here with a real flesh and blood human body.

            Incarnation.

            And the Evangelist Luke gives us some details to make sure we understand that this flesh and blood human Jesus was born into a world, into a life, at least as messy as our own.

            Flesh and blood Jesus was born into a homeland occupied by a foreign power, ruled by Emperor Augustus in faraway Rome.

            Flesh and blood Jesus was born not in his hometown of Nazareth, where he and Mary and Joseph would have been surrounded by loving and caring family and friends but in the unfamiliar town of Bethlehem where there was no room for them at the inn.

            Flesh and blood Jesus was placed in a manger, which sounds so quaint and charming, until we remember that it was a feeding trough used by animals.

            Luke tells us that flesh and blood Jesus was greeted first not by local officials or prominent residents of Bethlehem but by shepherds – shepherds who were probably kind of stinky and definitely low class in First Century Palestine.

            Incarnation.

            In and through Jesus, God joins us right here with a real flesh and blood human body.

            The flesh and blood Son of God was born into poverty and “broke bread with outcasts and sinners, healed the sick, and proclaimed good news to the poor.”

            We know that at what seemed like the end, that flesh and blood body born in Bethlehem will be whipped and beaten, nailed to wood, and killed.

            But, on the third day that same flesh and blood body, that same human and divine Jesus rose again.

            Incarnation.

            Now, far be it for me to question God.

            But, this business of God becoming one of us, becoming incarnate, becoming enfleshed, this seems like a bad idea.

            There must have been a better, easier way, right?

            I mean, our bodies are amazing and all of that, of course, but they also give us a lot of trouble, don’t they?

            Through his life, from the first cries of shock in the Bethlehem manger through childhood and adolescence and adulthood, Jesus experienced the pains and troubles and embarrassments that come with being a flesh and blood human being.

            But, despite all of that mess, God chose to become one of us, to become flesh and blood, to join us here in the mess because this was and is the best way – probably the only way – for us to see what God is really like.

            Despite all of that mess, God chose to become one of us, to become enfleshed, to join us here in the mess because this was and is the best way – maybe the only way – for us to see what we were always meant to be.

            And, now, especially on Christmas, we are all called to be – we are meant to be – incarnation.

            We are already flesh and blood but we’re called to be more than that – we’re called to be incarnation – we’re called to be the Body of Christ in the world, allowing Jesus to continue his work in and through us, when we break bread with outcasts and sinners, when we heal the sick, and when we proclaim good news to the poor.

            We are the Body of Christ. We are the incarnation, right here in messy Jersey City.

            “But the angel said to the shepherds, ‘Do not be afraid; for see I am bringing you good news of great joy for all people; to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.”

            Despite the rain and the mess, it’s Christmas!

             We celebrate that, in and through Jesus, God loves us enough to join us right here with a real flesh and blood human body.

            And, today, that incarnation continues in and through us, in and through St. Paul’s and Incarnation.

            Merry Christmas, indeed.

            Amen. 

Yes

St. Paul’s Church in Bergen, Jersey City NJ

December 21, 2014

Year B: The Fourth Sunday of Advent

2 Samuel 7:1-11, 16

Canticle 15: The Song of Mary

Romans 16:25-27

Luke 1:26-38

Yes

            If you’ve been in church these past two Sundays, you know that we’ve been focused on one of the central characters of Advent, John the Baptist.

            John was a fiery and powerful prophet who called people to repent – to change their minds and hearts – to change their ways.

            In his day, John the Baptist was famous. We’re told that large crowds came to the River Jordan to be baptized. Some people even believed – hoped – that John might be the long-awaited messiah.

            But, John the Baptist declared that he was preparing the way for the even greater One to come – preparing the way for Jesus, whose birth, of course, we will celebrate in a really big way in just a few days.

            But, first, today we shift our focus from John the Baptist to that other central character of Advent, the Virgin Mary.

            It’s the Evangelist Luke who tells us most of what we know about Mary. Apparently, Luke had access to early Christian traditions and memories of Mary and included them in his gospel.

            So, thanks to Luke we have the story of the Angel Gabriel appearing to Mary in Nazareth.

            We’re told that she’s a virgin and she’s engaged to Joseph of the House of David.

            The angel begins, “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you” and then proceeds to tell Mary this most amazing, shocking news that she has been chosen to carry the Son of God into the world.

            John the Baptist was famous in his day.

            But, in the eyes of the world, Mary was ordinary.

            She was a teenage girl living in an unremarkable town out in the country. Really only her family and her neighbors would have known who she was. Maybe they thought she was special. Maybe not.

            But, God who knows us far better than we know ourselves, chooses seemingly ordinary Mary for this most important task of carrying Jesus into the world.

            In her day, Mary was seemingly ordinary but for almost two thousand years Christians have loved Mary. We have retold her story. We have depicted her in countless paintings and statues. We have given her many, many lofty titles like “Mother of God,” “Queen of Heaven,” and “Our Lady of Mercy, Victories, Sorrows…” and on and on.

            Why have we fallen in love with Mary?

            I think part of it is the beauty and charm of the story.

            But, more important than that, what draws us to her is the fact that seemingly ordinary Mary says yes to God.

            “Here am I the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.”

            Mary says, yes.

            And that yes changes everything.

            In fact, the way Luke sees it, Mary’s “yes” to God sets off a revolution.

            The way Luke tells the story, Mary immediately sets off to be with her kinswoman Elizabeth who, despite her great age, is pregnant with John the Baptist.

            If you remember the story, as soon as Mary arrives, the unborn John the Baptist leaps in the womb, signaling to Elizabeth that Mary is pregnant with the Lord.

            Very charming.

            But then Mary breaks out into song, her song, what we call the Magnificat, which we said today in place of a psalm.

            Mary’s song been set to so much beautiful music there’s a danger that we miss the power and fire of her words.

            Mary’s yes has started a revolution.

            Mary says that God has scattered the proud, cast down the mighty from their thrones and lifted up the lowly.

            Mary says that God has filled the hungry with good things and the rich have been sent away empty.

            Seemingly ordinary Mary said yes to God.

            And Mary’s yes has started a revolution.

            So, what about seemingly ordinary us?

            God is always asking us to take a chance – to reach out – to help God do God’s work in the world.

            What’s our answer?

            Like Mary, do we say, “yes” to God?

            I know for me - and I’m going to guess for most of us - the answer is, sometimes.

            This past Friday, there were at least two times that some of us said “yes” to God.

            First in the afternoon, a group of us from St. Paul’s participated in the Sixth Annual Hudson County Interfaith Homeless Memorial Service over at Old Bergen Church.

            We said “yes” to God, first of all by donating 260 pairs of socks that were distributed to homeless people after the service.

            Gail and along with her young singers, Eden and Andrew, said “yes” to God by offering music as fine as any music played and sung in church or a concert hall.

            All of us who were there said “yes” to God because at that service the people who the world considers not even ordinary – people the world looks at as “nobodies” – the people we see panhandling on Bergen Avenue or on 1&9 – the people we see curled up sleeping in doorways – those people were the most important people in the room.

            We said “yes” to God.

            And that yes changes everything.

            That yes can start a revolution.

            And then on Friday evening a bunch of us gathered at Journal Square to sing Christmas carols.

            It was cold. Man, was it cold.

            And even on a warm day, Journal Square today is a cold, hard place.

            It is often a place of despair – a place that we and most other people hurry through, our eyes cast down. We just try to get to the bus or the train – just try to get home - without incident.

            But, here in this bleak place, we said “yes” to God.

            For two hours we said yes to God by singing religious Christmas music and secular Christmas music – everything from “Go Tell It on the Mountain” to “Frosty the Snowman.”           

            We said yes to God and we sang and sang and some people stopped and looked and listened, blinking with surprise at this little island of joy and cheer in Journal Square.

            Some people joined in the singing, even for just a few minutes.

            Some people stopped and took our picture, as if the people at home wouldn’t believe the tale of these crazy people singing out in the cold.

            One guy even offered me money. (No, I didn’t take it!)

            We said “yes” to God.

            And that “yes” changes everything.

            That yes can start a revolution.

            It’s the Fourth Sunday of Advent. It’s almost Christmas.

            We shift our focus from the famous John the Baptist to seemingly ordinary Mary.

            Mary said yes to God.

            Mary’s yes changes everything.

            Mary’s yes started a revolution.

            God is always asking us – seemingly ordinary us - to take a chance – to reach out – to help God do God’s work in the world.

            So, what’s our answer?

            Amen.

104 Years of Witnessing and Testifying

Church of the Incarnation, Jersey City NJ

December 14, 2014

Year B: The Third Sunday of Advent

Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11

Psalm 126

1 Thessalonians 5:16-24

John 1:6-8, 19-28

104 Years of Witnessing and Testifying

            Happy 104^th Anniversary!

            I’m told that your centennial celebration four years ago was quite the blow-out with the Presiding Bishop herself honoring you with her presence.

            So, for the 100^th anniversary you get the PB.

            And, for the 104^th anniversary, you get…me.

            All kidding aside, it is a great honor for me both as your friend and brother and as rector of St. Paul’s to be with you at this wonderful celebration.

            And today we’re also celebrating the Third Sunday of Advent.

             Pretty amazing. Doesn’t it feel like Advent just started?

             Yet, look, it’s already the Third Sunday of this holy season of waiting and watching – this sacred time of preparation.

            Just one more Advent Sunday to go.

            I love Advent so I’m always sorry to see it slip by so quickly.

            But, Advent used to be different than it is now. Some of you remember that Advent used to be a more penitential season – a lot like Lent.

            In recent years, though, there’s been an attempt to downplay the penitential aspects of Advent, to give it its own identity and not just a “little Lent.”

            Back when Advent was more penitential than it is now there developed the idea of softening up a little bit on the third Sunday – to remind people that the days of preparation were almost over – to encourage people that God was soon to enter the world in a new and unique way with the birth of Jesus of Nazareth.

            So, today on the Third Sunday of Advent we put away the purple vestments in favor of the rose – such a great color on me, right?!

            We celebrate “Gaudete Sunday” which comes from a Latin word for “rejoice.”

            Rejoice! Our long time of waiting is almost over!

            But, first…just like last week, we once again meet John the Baptist.

            If you were in church last week, you may remember that we heard the barebones account of John the Baptist and his ministry given to us by the earliest of the four gospels, the Gospel of Mark.

            Today we heard another take on John the Baptist, this time courtesy of the Gospel of John – the Fourth Gospel, considered to be the last of the four gospels to be completed.

            The Fourth Gospel’s description of John the Baptist is very similar to what’s found in the other gospels – some of the language is almost exactly the same – but there is an interesting difference in emphasis.

            Once again, John the Baptist makes it clear that he isn’t the messiah – he insists that One far greater and more powerful is coming.

            Once again John the Baptist insists that he is not worthy even of the lowly task of untying the sandal of the far greater One who is to come.

            In the Fourth Gospel, John the Baptist is a baptizer but above all he is “a man sent by God” “as a witness to testify to the light.”

            In the Fourth Gospel, John the Baptist is a witness testifying to – testifying about - Jesus.

            And you and I are called to do exactly the same.

            We are sent by God to be witnesses who testify about Jesus.

            And, what I know about the history of the Church of the Incarnation tells me that this is a vocation that you and those who have gone before you have taken very seriously.

            You have been – and are – witnesses testifying about Jesus.

            The church’s very history is a witness testifying about Jesus.

            As you know only too well, Incarnation was born out of the terrible sin of racism. Incarnation was born at a time when Episcopalians of color were shamefully unwelcome at the other Episcopal churches of Jersey City, including my own church.

            Rather than giving up on Christ or abandoning the church, your ancestors in faith formed this new church as a witness testifying about Jesus’ love for absolutely everybody.

            And for a little more than a century, there have been and continue to be so many Incarnation ministries – so many ways that the people of this church have been witnesses – so many ways that you have testified about Jesus.

            I think about the birth of the community development corporation that now goes by the name of Garden State Episcopal but in a very real way was born right here at Incarnation. How many people have been helped – how many have encountered the love of Christ thanks to the witness of our – your - CDC?

            I think about your many youth programs past and present – the girl scouts, young people in the choir, the summer camp, and more.

            How many kids have encountered the love of Christ thanks to your kind and patient testimony?

            I think about the emergency food pantry offered here month after month and your monthly community suppers, open to absolutely everybody.

            How many people have encountered the love of Christ thanks to the witness of your generosity?

            I think about your phenomenal music program – a choir and Minister of Music who got the “frozen chosen” at last year’s diocesan convention up out of their seats, singing, and not wanting the music to stop - a choir that now travels around the diocese, most recently at Ft. Lee last Sunday night.

            How many people have encountered the love of Christ through the testimony of your music?

            Throughout your history the people of Incarnation have followed the advice of St. Paul in his First Letter to the Thessalonians that we heard this afternoon:

            “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances.”

            Hard to do but, with God’s help, for 104 years you’ve done it.

            There’s just one thing that makes me sad. My sense is that, by necessity, most of the time you’ve done your work on your own.

            For most of our history the Episcopal churches of Jersey City have done their own thing and have, let’s say, “neglected” each other.

            But, you know, rejoicing, praying and giving thanks becomes more powerful – and a lot more fun – when we are together.

            A couple of weeks ago Rev. Laurie and I were videotaped talking about our Good Friday Stations of the Cross procession. The video will be shown at our diocesan convention next month as one of the so-called “Mission Minutes.”

            And, when I think about my year and a half as rector of St. Paul’s, most of the highlights are the times that people from the three Jersey City Episcopal churches have been together: our New Years Day service and brunch, our Good Friday procession, the Pop-Up Eucharists, our youth events, our picnics at Liberty Park.

            It would have difficult for each individual church to do these things on our own, but, whether we realized it at the time or not, together we were – we are – powerful witnesses testifying to the power of God and the love of Jesus Christ at work in our lives.

            For the past 104 years, Incarnation has been witnessing, testifying, to the love of Christ.

            For me and the people of St. Paul’s – and I think I can speak for Rev. Laurie and Grace Van Vorst – it is a great joy to witness and testify together.

            I can’t wait to see what’s yet to come.

            Meanwhile, Advent is slipping away.

            It’s already the Third Sunday – Gaudete Sunday – a day of rejoicing.

            John the Baptist has been sent by God as a witness testifying to the light.

            Soon, very soon, it will be Christmas and we will celebrate the gift of God with us.

            But, after receiving this greatest of all gifts, we are sent by God.

            Like those who have gone before us in faith here at Incarnation, we are sent by God to be witnesses who, through our actions and words, testify about Jesus.

            May it be so.

            Amen.

Witnesses

St. Paul’s Church in Bergen, Jersey City NJ

December 14, 2014

Year B: The Third Sunday of Advent

Isaiah 61:1-4, 8-11

Psalm 126

1 Thessalonians 5:16-24

John 1:6-8, 19-28

Witnesses

            Doesn’t it feel like Advent just started?

             Yet, look, it’s already the Third Sunday of this holy season of waiting and watching – this sacred time of preparation.

            Just one more Advent Sunday to go.

            I love Advent so I’m always sorry to see it slip by so quickly.

            But, you know, Advent used to be different than it is now. Some of you may remember that Advent used to be a more penitential season – kind of like a little Lent.  In fact, Advent and Lent shared the same purple color.

            In recent years, though, there’s been an attempt to soften the penitential aspects of Advent – the season now gets its own color – blue – the color of hope and the color associated with Mary who is, of course, one of the central figures of Advent and Christmas.

            Back when Advent was more penitential than it is now there developed the idea of softening up a little bit on the third Sunday – to remind people that the days of preparation were almost over – to encourage us that God was soon to enter the world in a new and unique way with the birth of Jesus of Nazareth.

            So, today on the Third Sunday of Advent we put away the blue vestments in favor of the rose – and it’s such a great color on me, right?!

            We celebrate “Gaudete Sunday” which comes from a Latin word for “rejoice.”

            Rejoice! Our long time of waiting is almost over!

            But, not quite. So, just like last week we’re back with that other main Advent character, John the Baptist.

            If you were in church last week, you may remember that we heard the barebones account of John the Baptist and his ministry given to us by the earliest of the four gospels, the Gospel of Mark.

            Today we heard another take on John the Baptist, this time courtesy of the Gospel of John – the Fourth Gospel, considered to be the last of the four gospels to be completed.

            The Fourth Gospel’s description of John the Baptist is very similar to what’s found in Mark and the other gospels – some of the language is almost exactly the same – but there is an interesting difference in emphasis.

            Once again, John the Baptist makes it clear that he isn’t the messiah – he insists that One far greater and more powerful is coming.

            Once again, John the Baptist insists that he is not worthy even of the lowly task of untying the sandal of the far greater One who is to come.

            In the Fourth Gospel, John the Baptist is a baptizer but above all he is “a man sent by God” “as a witness to testify to the light.”

            In the Fourth Gospel, John the Baptist is a witness testifying to – testifying about - Jesus.

            And you and I are called to do exactly the same.

            Just like John the Baptist, we are sent by God to be witnesses who testify about Jesus.

            Most of us come here week after week for all kinds of reasons – maybe out of habit, maybe because someone insists or even makes us go, maybe because we like the music, or maybe because we like the history, the tradition.

            We come here week after week for all kinds of reasons – maybe to be fed by the Word of God, maybe to be fed by the Body and Blood of Christ, maybe to be fed by the friendship and fellowship that we experience here, or maybe just to be fed by the good food at coffee hour.

            We come here for all kinds of reasons but, if we’re open to it, we come here and we can have an encounter with Christ that changes us and makes it worth interrupting our Sunday to come out to church.

            And that is the most wonderful and amazing gift.

            But, after receiving this tremendous gift, we are sent by God to be witnesses who testify about Jesus.

            I know that sounds a little scary for some of us who might fall into the category of the frozen chosen, including me.

            It sounds scary to some of us shy and oh so proper Episcopalians.

            It is scary.

            Most of us aren’t so great at striking up a conversation about Jesus and what he means to us when we’re on the bus or at Shop Rite or at the VIP or even at our shiny new Wonder Bagels – though, who knows, maybe some of us are good at it and should give it a shot.

            But, much more than talking, being a witness and testifying about Jesus is about how we live our lives.

            Being a witness and testifying about Jesus means trying to follow the instructions of St. Paul to the Thessalonians:

            “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances.”

            Imagine if we even just tried – just tried a little - to live that out?

            Living like that! Imagine what kind of witness – what kind of testimony – we would offer to our world.

            But, I’m guessing for a lot of us, Paul’s advice sounds really daunting, nearly impossible – nearly as hard as striking up a conversation about Jesus at Wonder Bagels!

            “Rejoice always, pray without ceasing, give thanks in all circumstances.”

            But, you know, rejoicing, praying and giving thanks becomes more manageable – more doable – when we are together.

            A couple of weeks ago Rev. Laurie and I were videotaped talking about our Good Friday Stations of the Cross procession. The video will be shown at our diocesan convention next month as one of the so-called “Mission Minutes.”

            And, when I think about my year and a half back in Jersey City, most of the highlights are the times that people from the three Jersey City Episcopal churches have been together: our New Years Day service and brunch, our Good Friday procession, the Pop-Up Eucharists, our youth events, our picnics at Liberty Park.

            And, as I think about those events, I realize most of them involved us being out beyond our church walls – out there in the world.

            It would have difficult for each individual church to do these things on our own but, whether we realized it at the time or not, together we were – we are – powerful witnesses testifying to the power of God and the love of Jesus Christ at work in our lives.

            Out there, on the streets of Jersey City, we have been rejoicing always.

            Out there, on the streets of Jersey City, we have been praying without ceasing.

            Out there, on the streets of Jersey City we have been giving thanks in all circumstances.

            Out there, on the streets of Jersey City, we have been witnesses testifying about the long awaited Holy One of God.

            It’s hard to believe, but Advent is slipping away.

            It’s already the Third Sunday – Gaudete Sunday – rejoice! Our long time of waiting is almost over!.

            Soon, very soon, it will be Christmas and we will celebrate the gift of God with us.

            And that is the most wonderful and amazing gift.

            But, after receiving this greatest of all gifts, we, like John the Baptist are also sent by God.

            We are sent by God to be witnesses who, through our actions and words, testify about Jesus.

            May it be so.

            Amen.