For the Fourth Sunday after the Epiphany
For you are my hope Lord God,
My confidence since I was young. (Psalm 71:5)
Today, I was witness to an ordination -- that wonderful and sacred moment when the Church, confers upon an individual a special set of responsibilities as a priest. As the liturgy unfolded and the age-old actions were made present once again, I couldn't help but think of the texts for this Sunday.
The Psalmist (71:1-6) claims a relationship with God that stretches back toward a time when the writer wasn't even aware of his own identity, let alone the identity of God. This relationship is "from my mother's womb" (Psalm 71:6), he says.
Jeremiah echoes the Psalmist's assertion, even as the prophet argues with God (Jeremiah 1:4-10). Recounting his first hearing a "word from the Lord", Jeremiah is unsettling in his honesty. Rather than immediately signing up for service with God, the young prophet pushes back, and honestly complains, "I am only a boy".
By the time Jesus preaches his first sermon in his hometown synagogue (Luke 4:21-30), he is no longer a youth, per se, but his message is so edgy in its content -- so chock-full of the searing honesty of young adulthood, that he barely escapes with his life.
The "new beginnings" in our lives aren't really so. Rather, they are moments in which we realize our lives are moving in different directions than we might have originally intended. We get up from these moments changed...our intentions somehow shifted or perhaps, thwarted altogether. At some point, we detect a nudge -- a nudge that moves us away from one set of possibilities and mysteriously (to us anyway!) toward another.
This is the life of following the God who is constantly leading. Sometimes we are deaf to God's voice. Sometimes we are blind to God's movement in our lives. But every once in a while, one of our number stays still long enough to recognize that she/he is being called to something greater than her/himself. Not every person who "stays still" finds themselves being ordained as a priest. Quite to the contrary, but nonetheless, the stillness leads each of us deeper and deeper into the mystery of God.
To be sure, we "see through a glass darkly" as our epistle lesson aptly reminds us (1 Corinthians 13). However all of our lessons challenge us to keep on squinting -- to keep on straining to see what God may have in store for us. We are reminded to question God, for in questioning God we learn how to abide with God's answers. We squint into the darkness of our souls -- and into the darkness of God. We pray for the day when we will see "face to face". And between now and the time of face-seeing fullness, our job is to walk in the vocation of love -- love not of the fuzzy, sentimental sort, but love that binds us together and calls us to new life in Christ.
My friend was ordained a priest today. She will keep that identity (God willing!) for the rest of her life. There will never be a time when she can say, "I'm not a priest now". The office goes with her, literally, until she is parted from it by death. And as much as we like to think of priests as "something special", the reality is, my friend's gift to the Church is not her "special-ness" or her "giftedness". Rather, her gift to the Church is nothing more and nothing less than her whole self.
All of us have been called to offer "our selves, our souls and bodies, to be a reasonable, holy and living sacrifice" (BCP, p. 336). Our call is to follow Jesus, wherever that call might lead -- even if it leads us to the edge of our abilities or the edge of a cliff.
Almighty and everlasting God; you govern all things both in heaven and on earth: Mercifully hear the supplications of your people, and in our time grant us your peace; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, or ever and ever. Amen.
For you are my hope Lord God,
My confidence since I was young. (Psalm 71:5)
Today, I was witness to an ordination -- that wonderful and sacred moment when the Church, confers upon an individual a special set of responsibilities as a priest. As the liturgy unfolded and the age-old actions were made present once again, I couldn't help but think of the texts for this Sunday.
The Psalmist (71:1-6) claims a relationship with God that stretches back toward a time when the writer wasn't even aware of his own identity, let alone the identity of God. This relationship is "from my mother's womb" (Psalm 71:6), he says.
Jeremiah echoes the Psalmist's assertion, even as the prophet argues with God (Jeremiah 1:4-10). Recounting his first hearing a "word from the Lord", Jeremiah is unsettling in his honesty. Rather than immediately signing up for service with God, the young prophet pushes back, and honestly complains, "I am only a boy".
By the time Jesus preaches his first sermon in his hometown synagogue (Luke 4:21-30), he is no longer a youth, per se, but his message is so edgy in its content -- so chock-full of the searing honesty of young adulthood, that he barely escapes with his life.
The "new beginnings" in our lives aren't really so. Rather, they are moments in which we realize our lives are moving in different directions than we might have originally intended. We get up from these moments changed...our intentions somehow shifted or perhaps, thwarted altogether. At some point, we detect a nudge -- a nudge that moves us away from one set of possibilities and mysteriously (to us anyway!) toward another.
This is the life of following the God who is constantly leading. Sometimes we are deaf to God's voice. Sometimes we are blind to God's movement in our lives. But every once in a while, one of our number stays still long enough to recognize that she/he is being called to something greater than her/himself. Not every person who "stays still" finds themselves being ordained as a priest. Quite to the contrary, but nonetheless, the stillness leads each of us deeper and deeper into the mystery of God.
To be sure, we "see through a glass darkly" as our epistle lesson aptly reminds us (1 Corinthians 13). However all of our lessons challenge us to keep on squinting -- to keep on straining to see what God may have in store for us. We are reminded to question God, for in questioning God we learn how to abide with God's answers. We squint into the darkness of our souls -- and into the darkness of God. We pray for the day when we will see "face to face". And between now and the time of face-seeing fullness, our job is to walk in the vocation of love -- love not of the fuzzy, sentimental sort, but love that binds us together and calls us to new life in Christ.
My friend was ordained a priest today. She will keep that identity (God willing!) for the rest of her life. There will never be a time when she can say, "I'm not a priest now". The office goes with her, literally, until she is parted from it by death. And as much as we like to think of priests as "something special", the reality is, my friend's gift to the Church is not her "special-ness" or her "giftedness". Rather, her gift to the Church is nothing more and nothing less than her whole self.
All of us have been called to offer "our selves, our souls and bodies, to be a reasonable, holy and living sacrifice" (BCP, p. 336). Our call is to follow Jesus, wherever that call might lead -- even if it leads us to the edge of our abilities or the edge of a cliff.
Almighty and everlasting God; you govern all things both in heaven and on earth: Mercifully hear the supplications of your people, and in our time grant us your peace; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, or ever and ever. Amen.
posted by FrGaryB | 9:21 PM
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