The Lord spoke to Moses, saying: Speak to all the congregation of the people of Israel and say to them: You shall be holy, for I the Lord your God am holy. Leviticus 19:1-2

Do you ever say to yourself “If only X would happen life would be perfect” – "X" being a raise, or your child getting into the college of their choice, or your spouse giving up annoying habits that you fight about, or that car or vacation you’ve had your eye on for quite some time? If you had that thing or that circumstance, if you could arrange that to happen, life would be perfect…or so you tell yourself.

On the other hand, maybe you subscribe to the philosophy that life is not perfect and never can be, so don’t hold your breath, lower your expectations, prepare to be disappointed, and just deal with life. In many ways our culture sets a trap of perfectionism and catches us in it coming and going.

There are so many messages out there telling us that if we just try a little harder, stretch ourselves to be more, then we can achieve perfection – and when we can’t do that (because we never can) we end up feeling like we will never be enough.
But if we go through life expecting always to be disappointed, as a way of shielding ourselves from the inevitable sorrows and pain of life, than we will always be disappointed and will miss the blessings of joy. That is the trap of perfectionism.

With that in mind, how are we to understand what Jesus says by way of summary at the end of this morning’s Gospel: “Be perfect, therefore, as your heavenly Father is perfect.”? What kind of impossibly high standard is Jesus setting here? And what happens if I can’t comply with that, can’t come up to scratch? I’m not God and never can be, even though there are times I try to arrange the world around me according to my wishes and my liking. And besides, isn’t humility a Christian virtue?  What do humility and perfection have to do with each other? Hold that thought.

Last week we reflected a bit on what we as a parish have learned from this past year’s Bible Challenge, and thinking about what catches our attention when we hear or read Scripture (aka the Holy Spirit speaking to us through the Bible), and what we might want to ask a Biblical scholar about, as we wrestle with what God might be saying to us through a particular text. Today it might be helpful to remember why it is that in our Sunday worship we normally have four passages of Scripture: Old Testament, Psalm, New Testament, and Gospel.

The Old Testament or Hebrew Bible reading brings to our attention the record of God’s relationship with ancient Israel, the covenant with God’s People as revealed through pre-history, family saga, royal chronicles, ritual and moral law, poetry, wisdom literature, lament, political intrigue and prophetic calling to account, and apocalyptic or vision writings. We read the Old Testament because of the truth it tells us about God and human nature.

We say or sing the Psalms because they are the hymnal of the synagogue, they are the music of worship that holds back no human emotion – love, guilt, joy, fear, hatred, hope, jealousy, grief, peace, shame, sadness, acceptance, anger, abandonment, trust. If you have felt it, it’s in the Psalms, and when we worship we bring our whole selves to God – we don’t leave anything behind.

In the New Testament reading we hear from the experience of the first Christians – the letters of Paul and other early Church leaders, the growth and development of the Christian movement in the Book of Acts, and the hope for this world and the whole cosmos in John’s wild-eyed apocalyptic vision we call Revelation. These people who were so close to the events of Jesus’ life and ministry – a generation or two (at the most) away from those who were eyewitnesses to the Crucifixion and Resurrection, to Pentecost and the way faith in Jesus spread like wildfire throughout the eastern end of the Roman Empire – have much to tell us about the immediacy of faith and salvation, and what it is to follow Jesus.

And of course, in the Gospels we come as close as we can to hearing Jesus speak in his own voice, as remembered through the communities of Matthew, Mark, Luke and John – each one capturing particular nuances and emphases of Jesus’ teaching and actions.

And we listen across these readings every Sunday so that we might hear from the breadth of God’s record with humankind, so that we don’t fall into the trap of thinking that a life of faith is something that we have just discovered by our own cleverness.
Hearing from the full scope of the Bible every week reminds us that we are rooted in a relationship and a tradition of faith that goes back millennia, and we have just stepped into the stream of prayer and worship and living; that is both humbling and exhilarating at the same time.

So…back to being perfect.

For these last four weeks we have been hearing from Jesus in the Sermon on the Mount as he goes through a detailed investigation of the major points of the Jewish Law/Torah. The passage in front of us is all about not responding to violence with violence, about undercutting oppression with self-respect, about loving our enemies; and it ends with Jesus telling us to be perfect, as God is perfect. But the word that gets translated as “perfect” is telos; it’s Greek, and primarily means something that has grown up or matured to reach its perfect end, its desired goal or outcome; that which it was designed to be – like a pear tree growing up and producing pears rather than oranges or figs. So Jesus is telling us to mature in faith and in the Holy Spirit to be what God created us to be.

So far, so good.

And then we have the passage from Leviticus: You shall be holy, for I the Lord your God am holy. Here we go again! Me, be holy?  Isn’t that an impossible standard, like being perfect? In ancient Israel “holiness” was much more about God’s “otherness,” being separate from all that was not divine, than it was about moral perfection. In drawing close to God, the people were to grow increasingly like God because they were, as Genesis tells us, made in God’s image. And the way to grow and develop to be more like God was to participate in God’s commandments – and Leviticus lays some of them out here in the way to act towards others in the community: the poor, the stranger, your fellow citizen, towards laborers, those who are deaf or blind, the rich and the great, your kinsfolk – all of these with whom we are in relationship.

And what are we to do? Leave some of the produce of our labor for those who do not have enough; do not lie, steal, deal falsely or defraud; don’t hold someone hostage for their pay; treat the handicapped with respect; honor and respect God; exercise justice for all people; do not hate, slander or look to profit from the death of others; do not take revenge or carry a grudge; love those around you, in your community. By doing these things, Leviticus is saying, we will participate in God’s nature and will become, ourselves, more of who God created us to be; that what holiness is.

So in talking about loving our enemies and being perfect, Jesus is stepping more deeply into this stream of being holy as God is holy, of being what God made us to be, of growing up into our true and God-given selves. Jesus does not want us to engage in perfectionism as the world doles it out, but instead, Jesus is calling us to wholeness, completeness, fullness of purpose in life.

And that is something that we can do every day. We can practice living God’s holiness in the way we treat one another –friend, family and enemy alike; we can hold ourselves to God’s standards of respect and justice, humility and love…so different from what the clamoring voices of the world around us say. And we can do this - not separate and apart from God, striving for divine approval – but we can do this with God’s help, we can be holy because the Holy Spirit lives within us, because Jesus walks with us and shows us the way.

As the Bible translation The Message puts that last verse of the Gospel:  “In a word, what I’m saying is, Grow up. You’re kingdom subjects. Now live like it. Live out your God-created identity. Live generously and graciously toward others, the way God lives toward you.”  Amen.

Victoria Geer McGrath
All Saints’ Church, Millington, NJ
Seventh Sunday after the Epiphany
February 23, 2014

You have heard it said…but I say to you… Matthew 5:21-22

This past Tuesday we passed an important mile marker: we finished the Bible Challenge, our year of reading the Bible and paying closer attention to it in our public worship; congratulations!  Some of you were able to read the whole Bible over the course of the year; some are still working on it…a marathon takes a long time. Some of signed up for what we called the “half-marathon” – reading through the New Testament, a chapter a day. Some of you signed up to read a Psalm a day – all 150 of them; and during Advent the Psalms (and You Tube links to musical settings of them) became our daily e-mail meditations.
And those who participated in the “fun run” read the Gospel of Matthew during Lent. And, of course, week by week, we prayed the Bible Challenge Prayer and opened our hearts and minds further to what the Holy Spirit might be saying to us in the words of Scripture.

There were certainly people who started some form of the Bible Challenge who couldn’t finished what they had hoped to do, and others who weren’t sure this was something they could – or even wanted to – participate in; that is very understandable. But this Challenge wasn’t just about what individuals got out of it, but about how we as a parish – as the Body of Christ – are formed and shaped and guided and matured by our engagement with the Bible.

Last week at the Annual Meeting I saw a really good example of how we, as a congregation, are growing in our relationship with God through Scripture. We broke up into pairs, a passage from Luke’s Gospel was read aloud, and two questions were asked: 1) What caught your imagination while the passage was being read, and 2) What might you want to ask a Biblical scholar?
After the pairs listened to each others’ responses and shared them with the whole group there was a final question: What might God be up to/saying to us in this passage today?

There were some very good responses and questions, especially relating to parts of the passage that presented Jesus in a sharper or harsher light; an inquisitiveness; a willingness to ask challenging questions. Good for you!  I’m not sure we could have done that so readily a year ago before we had undertaken the Bible Challenge – at least, not out loud in front of other people.

So with all that as background, it almost seems like this morning’s Gospel reading was put there to test our Bible reading mettle – and just when we thought we had made some progress! What catches my attention in this passage?  Words like judgment, hell of fire, lust, adultery, divorce, tearing out your eye, cutting off your hand….it makes me want to run in the opposite direction.
And what would I want to ask a Bible scholar? Many things – including: Are murder and verbal abuse really on the same level as far as God’s concerned? What does an offense against a brother or sister in faith have to do with being hauled up before the judge? Is the answer to sin really cutting off body parts? Is unchastity or immorality the only grounds for divorce?  And what is this about swearing?

See what I mean? This is a very challenging text. So take a deep breath, let’s back it up a little, and get some context that may prove helpful.

This passage comes from Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount – chapters 5 though 7 in Matthew – which was itself an amalgam of many things that Jesus said or taught. Matthew places it at the beginning of his public ministry as if Jesus were saying – “If you want to know what the Kingdom of God is all about, and if you want to be my follower, here is what you are in for.” So if it feels like Jesus is piling on…you are right. And it probably helps to know that Jesus of made use of hyperbole – exaggerated or amplified speech that he used to get his point across; he certainly did not want us to go around chopping off body parts.

Maybe one of the things that caught your attention was the way Jesus said “You have heard it said…but I say to you”; he did that four times. This is because Jesus was discussing the religious law; in the passage immediately before this (which we heard last week) he says “Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets; I have come not to abolish but to fulfill.”
So here we have Jesus taking up different parts of the Law and asking his followers to understand them more deeply, not just check the boxes that they have scrupulously complied with the letter of them.

The passage about divorce may well be one of the most painful and puzzling parts of this whole reading; again, context will be helpful here. In the ancient world there was nothing to prevent a man from getting rid of a wife who displeased him. 

A divorce certificate was supposed to provide some protection for a woman, because a reason had to be provided, but over time the acceptable reason for divorce became as frivolous as saying that a woman had burnt her husband’s dinner.  And then the woman would be out on the street with no home, no financial support and no chance of re-marriage.  This still goes on today in the Orthodox Jewish community.  Of course our society is very different, and we recognize that divorce can sometimes be the only healthy option when a marriage has fallen apart.  But the point that Jesus was making is that the commitments we make are serious and important, and there are painful consequences when they are broken – even when we know we have no other option.

And those things that Jesus had to say about swearing – that’s the fourth commandment, not taking the Lord’s Name in vain? What he is addressing here has to do with grandiosity, with making your promise or statement more true or more important in swearing to its veracity by the most sacred things.You know how children, when badgering for permission to do something, will say “Please – pretty please – pretty please with a cherry on top?” -  it’s like that. Instead, Jesus is telling us to let our personal integrity show through our speech; a simple and direct “yes” or “no” should be sufficient.

There is so much more that we could delve into, and wonder about, and unpack, and be uncomfortable with in this Gospel reading. But for today it is enough for each one of us to ask: What caught my imagination in this passage, and what particularly, might I like to ask a Bible scholar about? And for all of us, what might God be up to in this passage; what might God being saying to us today?

We can ask these questions because of the year we have just lived through, because we now have a wider and deeper experience of the Bible. And we can ask these questions knowing that our trust in the goodness and faithfulness of God is never misplaced, that God’s loving purposes for us and for all creation are at the root of God’s Kingdom, and everything Jesus did and said.

As we continue to grow in our relationship with God, as our understanding of Scripture continues to deepen, and as we mature in faithfulness, we will find that this engagement with the Spirit in the words of the Bible will ultimately lead to life and blessing as it brings us closer to the truth of God.  Amen.

Victoria Geer McGrath
All Saints’ Church, Millington, NJ
Sixth Sunday after Epiphany
February 16, 2014

“… a light for revelation to the Gentiles and for glory to your people Israel." Luke 2:32

For many years the town in which we live held a bonfire on the Sunday evening after New Year’s Day. The public works department had collected up all of the old Christmas trees that residents left on the curb, hauled them to the mulch area behind one of the elementary schools, and then set them alight. The public was invited, and it was a magnificent sight: hundreds of Christmas trees, a brilliant light, over-powering heat, sparks flying up into the night sky, the fragrance of pine and fir…and, of course, the ready presence of the fire trucks. For the hour or so of the fire, it consumed not only the trees, but our attention; everything else literally paled in comparison to the intensity of heat and light coming from the bonfire.

After it was over we would walk the few blocks back to our house with flashlights and streetlights to guide our way; while we got home perfectly well, the walk seemed very dim, and the images of the fire’s power stayed with us, as if we had gotten a glimpse of an alternate reality.

And that’s what happened to Mary and Joseph when they took their six-week old infant to the Temple. The ancient Jewish Law required that parents take their first-born boy to the Temple, and offer a sacrifice in thanksgiving; at the same time, the mother would have been declared ritually clean by the Temple priest, and ready to resume sexual relations with her husband. Jesus’ parents offered a sacrifice of turtledoves or pigeons because they were poor; the law actually called for the sacrifice of a lamb, but made allowances for those who could not afford that. They were doing what their faith and culture expected and required, but what they met with was so much greater.

Simeon and Anna - both faithful elders, both righteous in the Lord’s eyes, holding out hope for the fulfillment of God’s promises – met Mary and Joseph and their baby and knew deep within that this was the One for whom they had waited and prayed, the One who would fulfill the ancient hope of his people. Simeon, in particular, took Jesus in his arms and made this proclamation:

Lord, you now have set your servant free
    to go in peace as you have promised;
For these eyes of mine have seen the Savior,
    whom you have prepared for all the world to see:
A Light to enlighten the nations,
    and the glory of your people Israel.

Can you imagine what it must have been like for Joseph and Mary to have this happen, to have strangers come, and not only fuss over your child, but to ask to hold him and then say: “This is what I’ve been waiting for my whole life; I can die in peace now. God’s promises for the whole world are coming true.” I think we might feel a tad uncomfortable with that – and say to ourselves, if not out loud, What is going on here?! In fact, there was a very great deal going on in this meeting of Simeon, Anna, and Jesus in the Temple.

The Temple was the place where the presence of God was supposed to reside in its greatest and most intense concentration.
Way back in the Book of Exodus, we read about the presence of God leading the Israelites through the desert into freedom as they fled slavery in Egypt. The form God’s presence took was as a cloud by day, and as a pillar of fire by night, so that all could see and follow.

The Hebrew word for this majestic presence of God that dwelt among the people is shekinah, and it often gets translated into English as glory – the glory of God; so that God’s glory is not just a quality or an adjective used to describe the divine, but the reality of God’s presence. It was this shekinah, this majestic presence of God, that was understood to dwell amongst the people in the Temple’s holy of holies, that most sacred of places into which a priest could enter only once a year.

This is the kind of language that Simeon was using: a light to enlighten, to be a revelation to the Gentiles, the nations; and the glory, the magnificent presence, the shekinah of God with God’s people. And he was ascribing all of this to Jesus, to this tiny baby in his arms.

In my mind’s eye Simeon, Anna, Jesus, Mary and Joseph, are all engulfed in intense and powerful light, casting all around them into shadow, causing them for that moment in time to be the white-hot center of reality. And at the core of all of it was Jesus.
The curtain had been drawn back, the alternate universe of heaven had pushed through, the dim shadows of the everyday had faded into the background, and the glory of God was seen in all its fullness. And life would never be quite the same again.

But human beings can only take so much reality at any one time; to take in so much glory and power and truth is overwhelming.
And so the family returned to Nazareth, went back to daily life where, as Luke tells us, “The child grew and became strong, filled with wisdom; and the favor of God was upon him.” Even so, the memory of that intensity, that fire, stayed with them, I am sure.

When we think of God’s presence, my guess is that we often think of God as a rock to stand on, as a place of shelter (Hide me under the shadow of thy wings, the Psalmist says), even as light on our path – all good, Biblical images: trustworthy and true.

But they may not carry this same sense of God’s shekinah – the glorious, majestic, overwhelming presence of God that is as all-consuming as fire; the presence that led God’s people out of bondage, through the wilderness, rested in the Temple, and then was fully embodied in Jesus.

The writer Annie Dillard has this to say: “On the whole, I do not find Christians, outside of the catacombs, sufficiently sensible of conditions. 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. For the sleeping god may wake someday and take offense, or the waking god may draw us out to where we can never return. ” This Feast of the Presentation, this Candlemas, reminds us that faith in God and life in Christ is all about the intense and magnificent power and presence of God, a flash of reality amidst the dimmer events of daily life.

When come to meet Jesus, like Simeon and Anna, with hope and expectation – we, too, may be overwhelmed with the glory of God, and then sent on our way, enlightened and empowered even if all around us is darkness.  Maybe we would be wise to have the fire engines at the ready.  Amen.

Victoria Geer McGrath
All Saints’ Church, Millington, NJ
Feast of the Presentation
February 2, 2014

And Jesus said to them, "Follow me, and I will make you fish for people." Matthew 4:19

There’s an old Peanuts comic strip that eventually got made into a poster. In the strip Linus is being berated by his sister Lucy about why she thinks he could never be a doctor – because he doesn’t love mankind. As Lucy skips rope out of the frame, Linus shouts after her: “I love mankind…it’s people I can’t stand!”;  and in the poster version of this, Linus is sitting, sucking his thumb, and holding tightly to his blanket and the words appear above his head.

I have the sneaking suspicion that we all feel this way once in a while…maybe frequently… maybe a lot! It’s always easier to love, appreciate, have warm feelings toward a distant, anonymous, idealized group than it is to love a specific, flesh and blood person who crowds into your life with likes and dislikes, has habits and opinions that drive you up the wall, and makes demands on you that you really might not want to have to deal with. And if there is more than one real life person in your sphere of existence, that just makes it all the harder. The truth is…it’s often easier to withdraw into yourself, or at least your immediate circle, where you don’t have to bump up against all the demanding particularities of other people. Of course there are times when we need to put a buffer between ourselves and others – rest, down time, Sabbath, retreat are all necessary, but isolating ourselves from other people should not be the consistent pattern of a Christian’s life.

In Matthew’s Gospel this morning we hear Jesus calling the first four disciples: Peter and Andrew, James and John.

Now for those of you who were here last week when John’s Gospel told us about Andrew responding to John the Baptist’s proclamation of Jesus as the Lamb of God – that is, Andrew following Jesus, and then going off to get his brother Peter, it is helpful to remember that John the Evangelist, the Gospel writer, tells Jesus’ story very differently than do Matthew, Mark and Luke; so don’t try to mesh last week’s story and this week’s – that won’t work.

Back to the beach at the lakeside, the Sea of Galilee…

Jesus is walking on the shore and sees two sets of brothers: Peter and Andrew, James and John . They are all part of the commercial fishing industry in Capernaum, but – not unlike today – each family had their own boat or boats, maintained their own nets and equipment, supplied fish to the fish mongers in the market place. The family business would have depended on “all hands on deck” – literally; everyone in the family was needed to work to provide a living for a multi-generational enterprise.
So when Jesus calls these two pairs of brothers, saying “Follow me,” and they respond to him by leaving their nets and following him to become (as Jesus said) “fishers of people,” it’s a very big deal.

They didn’t just change their minds or even their religious beliefs, they changed their behavior – and even more than that – they changed their relationships and their priorities. Jesus called them to follow, to learn, to accompany him, to move beyond the circle of their families. Jesus redefined their work and their purpose in life – to be fishers of people; and just in case Peter or Andrew thought this was going to mean being some sort of talent scout for this new, charismatic rabbi, or an HR department for the Kingdom of God, Matthew makes it very clear in the next passage what it means to be a fisher of people:

“Jesus went throughout Galilee, teaching in their synagogues and proclaiming the good news of the kingdom and curing every disease and every sickness among the people. So his fame spread throughout all Syria, and they brought to him all the sick, those who were afflicted with various diseases and pains, demoniacs, epileptics, and paralytics, and he cured them. And great crowds followed him from Galilee, the Decapolis, Jerusalem, Judea, and from beyond the Jordan.”

Woah!  That would be enough needy, demanding, particular people to make anyone run and sit in the corner with their blanket.

Jesus made it very clear, very quickly that casting a net into the sea of humanity to bring them into the Kingdom of God would be challenging, even overwhelming. There is no magic wand, no instantaneous conversion of all these people, but a wading into the crowd, a willingness to engage with each person in their specific need and hurt, a readiness to open a relationship with many, many people knowing that they probably will not leave you alone, but will keep following you because they have found God’s life, and healing, and light in your relationship with them.

This is what Jesus called Andrew and Peter, James and John into, along with the rest of the Twelve and the others disciples who came along later. This is what Jesus calls us into as well – to be fishers of people. When we follow Jesus, when we walk through that door or over that threshold that marks our entry into faith and discipleship, we are called into a whole new set of relationships:
·         first with God – OK, we probably have a handle on that one;
·         then with the Church – in today’s second reading Paul calls the Christians in Corinth “brothers and sisters”; by our baptism we have been adopted into a new, large family that stretches across the globe, and throughout history, but for most of us our local parish is family enough to learn to live with;
·         and then we are called into a new and different relationship with our neighbor – that is, anyone outside of our biological family or our siblings in the Body of Christ.

You see, our faith – our spirituality – shapes and prods and energizes our behavior; what we do should be consistent with what we say we believe (as much as we are able to do that), and even more importantly, what we do should be consistent with the values and expectations that God has laid before us.

So what does that actually mean? Sometimes God really does ask us to do things that seem dramatic, maybe a little scary, and different from what we are doing now; maybe God calls us to work for Doctors Without Borders or Bread for the World; maybe God asks us to consider the ordained ministry or a monastic community; maybe God asks us to start a house church in an inner city neighborhood. God can, and has done, and will continue to call his followers to do all of those things…and many more, besides. But much more often, God call us to do the hard work of living faithful lives right where we are, in the families and neighborhoods we have, in the jobs we are already doing.

Faithful living, then, becomes not an add-on to the relationships we already have –as if we were spreading an extra layer of icing on the top of the cake – but faithful living and following Jesus calls us to re-examine our behavior with those we live with, work with, worship with, and those who come across our path.

Do we see them as God sees them? Do we take the time to hear and learn their concerns, worries, hurts, interests, and delights? Are we willing to be vulnerable enough to receive their friendship, wisdom, insight, rightful anger, love, talents, spiritual gifts – whatever they have to offer?

Are we willing to let God’s vision of those around us shape our behavior toward them – people made in God’s image, loved by God, and for whom Christ died? How does that change the way we act?

Think, for a moment, of someone with whom you are in relationship; that person might bring you great joy or sorrow or frustration or hope – a significant relationship. Keeping that person in mind, pray for them – see them surrounded by the light of Christ, believe that God is using you to minister to him or her, to make a difference in that person’s life….see how you have been making a difference in that person’s life all along.1 That’s what it means to be fishers of people – along with your brothers Peter and Andrew, James and John, and all of your other sisters and brothers in Christ.

The people God is calling you to serve are all around you, with you, among you – nearby; thank you for being God’s workers, pray-ers, God’s fishers for people.

Let us pray.
They cast their nets in Galilee
just off the hills of brown;
such happy, simple fisherfolk,
before the Lord came down.

Contented, peaceful fishermen,
before they ever knew
the peace of God that filled their hearts
brimful, and broke them too.

Young John who trimmed the flapping sail,
homeless in Patmos died,
Peter, who hauled the teeming net,
head-down was crucified.

The peace of God, it is no peace,
but strife closed in the sod,
Yet let us pray for but one thing --
the marvelous peace of God.  Amen.   ~ William Alexander Percy, Hymn 661

1 Idea suggested by David Lose, www.workingpreacher.org

Victoria Geer McGrath
All Saints’ Episcopal Church, Millington, NJ
Third Sunday after Epiphany
January 26, 2014

When Jesus turned and saw [two of John’s disciples] following, he said to them, "What are you looking for?" They said to him, "Rabbi" (which translated means Teacher), "where are you staying?" He said to them, "Come and see." John 1:38-39

How many times have you had someone say to you, “Come here; you’ve got to see this” whether it was something funny, or beautiful, or amazing, or something you just plain shook your head at? We want to share things that pique our interest, that catch our attention; that why we share photos or posts on Facebook, or forward an interesting article via e-mail, or even call our spouse in from the next room to look out the window or see what’s on TV. That’s a little bit of what is happening in this morning’s Gospel – of course using John’s highly charged and poetic theological language.

"Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the world!”, John says when he sees Jesus walk towards him, perhaps after baptizing Jesus in the Jordan – the text is a little unclear here. But the point is, that John calls attention to Jesus, points him out to his own followers; He calls Jesus “the Lamb of God.”

As Christians, we are very used to hearing that phrase used in connection with Jesus – we sing it every week as the Agnus Dei after the large Communion host has been broken, the symbol of the Lamb of God is on our parish banner, and another version of it is on our bulletin covers this morning. In our minds “Lamb of God” equals Jesus.

But for first-century Jews, which included the Gospel writer, “Lamb of God” referred to the Passover lamb, the animal that was sacrificed each year at the great and wonderful feast of freedom and new life that is Passover, commemorating the Israelites’ escape from slavery in Egypt. It was the central fact of their religious and national life.

So for John to call Jesus “the Lamb of God” was really startling; no one ever thought of the Lamb as a person, and to think that a single person might signify and symbolize God’s great saving action was pretty amazing. And yet, John knew what he knew – and he had to share it with those around him, two of his disciples. And just for good measure, the next day John saw Jesus again, and repeated himself: "Look, here is the Lamb of God!” The two disciples (one of which was Andrew) follow after Jesus, and they ask him more about himself, where he was staying, what he was all about; and Jesus’ answer to them is direct and pointed: “Come and see.”

This is the Season after Epiphany, which is all about seeing, about the shining of the light, the previously hidden being made manifest, Jesus moving onto the human world stage. And he bids those around him – us included – to “Come and see” what he is all about. Jesus invites Andrew, and Andrew goes and invites his brother Simon who will soon be re-named Peter − “The Rock” – and before you know it, the pattern repeats itself, until Jesus has gathered quite a following.

What are they there for? These disciples gather around Jesus and follow him from place to place because they want to hear what he has to say, they want to be in his presence; there is something of the Passover power and freedom and joy about him, and they are drawn to that. To think that God’s saving presence was among them in the flesh was pretty amazing – no wonder they wanted to see and hear more; and no wonder they invited their friends and relatives to come along a take a look.

We have had our own manifestation of Christ’s power and presence among us this past week as we – All Saints’ Church – have responded to two very difficult circumstances that have happened in our midst: the death of a child and the disappearance of a friend and Scout leader in our community.

In both instances people stepped up to organize, usher, tend to the altar, purchase supplies, make signs, fliers and service leaflets; direct parking, set up candles and luminaria, clean, set up and put away tables and chairs; make meals, serve food, postpone meetings, welcome guests and the wider community; share love and concern, cry, laugh, offer an open heart, and most of – pray.

You prayed for and with families in great need, even in your own grief and sadness, because that is the way the grace of God comes through to us. You stayed open to the Holy Spirit’s direction, you noticed what needed doing and you did it and I am so proud of you and of this Church family; you know in your heart of hearts, in your very bones, what it means to be the Body of Christ and you took action in very tangible and visible ways.

And I heard over and over again Monday night and Tuesday afternoon what a difference that made to those who gathered here for the prayer vigil and for the funeral; people felt strengthened, comforted, they felt calmer, they didn’t feel so alone, they felt they had been given hope by God through the actions of this parish church.

Another way of thinking about what we did was that we stood alongside those who were hurting and we said, “Look, here is Jesus, with us and among us; come and stand with me until you can see him, too; let us stand here together until we both know the strong love of God.”

Come and see; that’s evangelism, that’s sharing the Good News of God in Christ, that’s offering hope and new life and binding up the broken-hearted. Come and see – look to Jesus, discover what God is doing all around you every day, share that good news with someone who really needs to hear it.

Now the Good News is not a doctrine, nor a theological construct, nor even a set of beliefs – as important as doctrine, theology and believing are. Sometimes when we think about trying to share the Good News we get tripped up by thinking we have to have all the answers – when, in fact, all of us have lots of questions; or we think we have to be able to debate and argue and convince someone else to believe the same way we do; or we hesitate to speak, for fear we will offend.

All God asks us to do is to say “Come and see” – see what life can be like when you love and trust God, in response to being loved and trusted by God. “Come and see” how you can learn to live according to the principles Jesus offers us. “Come and see” that you do not have to be alone; God is with you, and there is a community of people – just as flawed and questioning and perhaps as fearful as you are, yet experienced in seeing, knowing and receiving the grace and forgiveness of God – a community of people who will walk with you in a journey of faith and discovery.

The Good News is a message about what God does for us in and through Jesus; a message that we can see by looking at him.
That’s why we are here – we, God’s people, the Body of Christ – sharing strength, courage, hope and love that has been given to us by God.

Come and see.

Let us pray.
Be Thou my Vision, O Lord of my heart;
Naught be all else to me, save that Thou art.
Thou my best Thought, by day or by night,
Waking or sleeping, Thy presence my light.  Amen.

Victoria Geer McGrath
All Saints’ Church, Millington, NJ
Second Sunday after the Epiphany
January 19, 2014

And a voice from heaven said, "This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased." Matthew 3:17

When our son – our first-born - was baptized the service was beautiful, many of our family and friends were gathered, along with the family of another child; he didn’t cry, there were no family squabbles (at least that I can remember); everything was serene, picture perfect. When our next child – our daughter – was baptized some things were very similar – the same christening gown, the same family members, the same Sunday of the year (Advent 1); the church was different because we had moved from Manhattan to Bergen County, but that didn’t affect things too much.

What was really different was that we had a three-year-old, a very active little boy who did not want to be still and wasn’t too happy about sharing the limelight with his baby sister. And so he proceeded, during the baptism, to hang on the altar rail gate and swing back and forth on it – right there in front of God and everybody.

The parents and godparents were supposed to be saying our part of the baptismal vows on our daughter’s behalf, the rector was doing his best to ignore our son’s shenanigans, and my husband was attempting to get our son under control while being present to this wonderful event in our daughter’s life. It was certainly not the end of the world, but it was frustrating and embarrassing; needless to say, we were not well-pleased with our son’s behavior!

It’s a good thing, then, that baptism is not fundamentally about what we do or do not do; baptism is most fundamentally about being known and loved by God, receiving from God our true identity.

Our Gospel reading today, and the focus of our worship, is the baptism of Jesus as a manifestation of his true identity to the world. Jesus joined the crowds coming from all over the Judean countryside and from Jerusalem who came to the Jordan River in response to John the Baptist’s preaching. John had been preaching repentance, and baptism for cleansing from sin as a way to prepare for the coming of the Kingdom of God.

That was John’s job, his ministry; to tell people to get ready for the big new thing that God was going to do. And people responded to him; they came out in droves; and Jesus came, too. John was confused by this; he felt his own sinfulness and unworthiness before the Messiah, but Jesus assured him that it was good and right for him to be baptized just like everyone else.

So down he went – into the muddy, murky water of the Jordan River…just like us. Jesus took on our humanity, our condition and identity – as if he had sins that needed washing away. And when he came up out of the water he had an experience of seeing the Holy Spirit descend on him in the shape of a dove, and he heard God’s voice saying: “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased."

The reality of Jesus’ nature and identity had been revealed so clearly – God’s Son, the Beloved, the One with whom God is well-pleased. Jesus took on our human identity – and acted upon it by being baptized – so that we might not only recognize his divine nature, but receive some of that for ourselves.

Because when we are baptized, God says the same thing to us: “You are my Child, my Beloved, with you I am well-pleased.”
Before anything we do or fail to do, that is the most fundamental truth about us – we are God’s beloved, and well-pleasing to Him.

Now that doesn’t mean we always behave well, in fact we can behave spectacularly badly and harm ourselves and others in doing so. We can find all kinds of ways to separate ourselves from God and others and our best selves – for that is what sin means: being separate from, a-sunder. We can wander far off the path, we can get ourselves into some pretty dark and tight places, we can – frankly – make a mess of our lives, and yet…. that is not the most fundamental truth about us. The more important thing about God and us is God’s love for us as his beloved children.

And that changes everything.

When we know we are loved completely and without reservation, when we know that God delights in us, when we know that we – like Jesus – can have the Holy Spirit poured out upon us to empower us to serve God in the world – that changes everything.
Our short-comings and failures cease being road-blocks and become opportunities to learn and grow to be more Christ-like.
The calamities that befall us cease to be punishments and instead give us a chance to deepen our faith and trust. The messages that world gives us about not measuring up because we are not enough – not attractive enough, or thin enough, or well-dressed enough, or whatever “enoughs” might be on sale this season – those messages are revealed as the lies they are when we know that God is well-pleased with us.

How wonderful to understand our true identity and to live and act out of that reality. When we know we are God’s Beloved we can open our hearts and hands to others who need to know the love and grace of God in ways large and small, tangible and spiritual.

Thank God that the grace, the gift, of baptism doesn’t depend on what we do, but rather on what God does, and on who Jesus is – the one who stands with us and among us at the riverbank, waiting to take the plunge into the murky deep, with all the rivers currents and eddies and unpredictable bottom. We go down into the water with Jesus and come up again with him, dying to sin and rising to new life, filled with the power of the Holy Spirit, and hearing God’s voice ringing in our ears: You are my child, my Beloved; with you I am well-pleased. Amen.

Victoria Geer McGrath
All Saints’ Church, Millington, NJ
Baptism of our Lord: First Sunday after Epiphany
January 12, 2014

While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child.  And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn. Luke 2:6-7

We have all gathered here for a very special celebration tonight, and special celebrations often call for a bit of reflection, introspection, a moment to pause and consider the meaning and the import of why we are gathered. We see this often at a wedding reception, when the best man or maid of honor gives a speech about the couple. The best speeches not only wish the couple every happiness, but often say something about the personality of the couple, why they seem so well-suited, and what their hopes, dreams and aspirations may be. They are at the beginning of their life together as a married couple, and what they will become together is in the future.

At graduations, too, we congratulate the student for his or her accomplishments and look forward to what they will do with all their new knowledge and wisdom and preparation – as the poet Mary Oliver says: “Tell me, what is it you plan to do with your one wild and precious life?”

And when a baby is born or adopted we offer our congratulations to the parents, and the grandparents, big brothers or sisters, and any other relatives that are basking in the glow of this new family member, and we say things like: “Look at those hands; he’s going to be a great catcher!” or “See how attentive and focused she is; maybe she’ll grow up to be a lawyer like her mom!” We wish and hope and wonder all kinds of things on the momentous occasion of a baby’s arrival; we almost stand on our tip-toes and try to see into the future of the child’s life.

And so we come together this evening to celebrate the birth of Jesus – the arrival of God in human life, human flesh, God incarnate. But we are here to celebrate more than just a birthday; we are here to call to mind, and to enter into, the reality of Jesus all over again, to open ourselves to the meaning of this birth, this life, in all its ordinariness and all its uniqueness. God came to us in the person of a tiny helpless baby – and could he have chosen less impressive circumstances? A young couple, engaged (there was certainly a hint of scandal there), on the road, strangers in a small town that could not seem to make room for them, consigned to the cow shed out back of the tavern – not a very promising beginning for the Messiah, the Savior of the world.

Why did God do that?  He did it to show us that we do not have to come to God with our best face on, wearing fancy clothes, holding positions of power or influence or wealth, or even with all of our ideas about God and life and spirituality all sorted out and analyzed. Instead, God comes to us, just as we are – in whatever messiness or confusion or anxiety or difficulty we may be living in. God comes to us – not because we’ve earned it or deserved it, or decided that we believe in God. God comes to us because he believes in us, and wants to show us the path to fullness of life and hope.

God came to us in a baby named Jesus who was the ancient hope and longing of his ancestors, after centuries of prayer and waiting, but he didn’t just remain a child. Jesus grew to be an adult, a carpenter by trade, a rabbi by calling, a spiritual teacher and healer who also was God incarnate. And as we stand on tip-toe at the manger, along with the cow and the ox and the sheep that trailed in along with the shepherds – as we lean forward for a glimpse of the baby, we also need to remember the man; remember what he said, what he taught and what he did.

He healed people, he drove out evil spirits, he confronted the religious authorities, he gathered a circle of disciples and a much larger group of followers, he gave sight to the blind, opened the ears of the deaf, offered good news to the poor, raised the dead; he taught at every opportunity and in every circumstance how to live with God at the center of life, according to God’s values and God’s vision.

One day a religious scholar confronted Jesus, and asked him what was the most important commandment or law or religious teaching – and Jesus answered him this way: “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart, and with all your soul, and with all your mind.” This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second is like it: “You shall love your neighbor as yourself.” On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.

Love God, love your neighbor as if you were loving yourself – these twin truths are the center of Jesus’ life and ministry and teaching, and they color everything else that he said or did. And Jesus told us this so that we could make it the center of our lives, also: Love God, love your neighbor – and then act accordingly.

You might be thinking that it sounds simple but …. in reality is very difficult – and you would be right; no one can love God perfectly or fully, and we certainly don’t have a great track record of loving our neighbor as ourselves. Our ego, our fear, our pride, our self-centeredness, our own need and stress level gets in the way; sometimes we are just cranky and over-tired – whatever it might be, we do a less than perfect job of loving God and neighbor; this is part of what we call sin. And that is exactly the regular human life that God entered when Jesus was born. So God knows – God knows what we are dealing with, how we are made, what things delight us, and what our challenges are; God knows all this from the inside out because he has lived a human life, he has come alongside us, has been the one to extended a hand to us first.

This baby who grew to be a man ended his life by embracing suffering and death at the hands of military authorities on our behalf – going through the very worst of human life and nature – before rising to a whole new kind of God-given life in what we know as the resurrection, so that we might be able to share God’s life fully. That what was facing the baby in the manger, the Christ Child – a real, human life, intertwined with his real divine self. There is now no part of human feeling or experience or pain or joy or suffering that God cannot understand and enter into, that God cannot redeem and save and make whole, because God has been there – where you are, now, tonight, in this life.

And this is great good news because in the birth and life and teaching and death and resurrection of Jesus God offers us new life, and purpose and blessing in the life we live here and now; a life with God as the center of our love, that then flows out to our families, our neighbors, our enemies, the world around us… and indeed, the whole cosmos.

And it all started with a baby.

May your Christmas celebration be filled with joy, and hope, and the wonderful, life-giving presence of God; and may you find ways to share that joy and hope and presence with others who need to know that God believes in them and loves them.

Let us pray.
O God, you are holy and we stand in awe before you. But we remember that you came to us in Jesus, right where we live. Send your Spirit to us that we may know fully the love and goodness and favor you have towards us, that our lives may be washed through with your grace and we may reflect and shine forth to others all that we have received.  Amen.

Victoria Geer McGrath
All Saints’ Church, Millington, NJ
Christmas Eve
December 24, 2013