Yesterday we had a nice sunny day with about three or four inches on the ground, and soft snow on the tree branches. It was pretty, and finally made the outdoors look the way we want it to look at Christmas time and more often than not, it doesn't.
And then, at 5.00 this morning, sleet banging on the windows woke me up. It had started to rain or sleet or whatever after midnight. By the time I got up this morning at 7.30 to go over to the church to crank up the furnace for the 10.00 service, this is what I saw.
The ramp was covered by a nice glaze of ice. So was the driveway, front walk and steps to the church. And it was still doing something at 9.30 when I went over.
Needless to say, I did not have a huge congregation. One person showed up. Yet it was a lovely eucharist, just the two of us, both sopranos with clear, clear voices. We sang a capella the three hymns I had chosen (anticipating a small congregation), 'O God, our help in ages past' (St Anne), 'I want to walk as a child of the light' (Houston) and 'At the name of Jesus every knee shall bow' (Kings Weston). Singing together made me think of going to the convent of the Order of Saint Helena, Vails Gate, NY. Perhaps, too, since I went to a women's college, I enjoy the sound of women's voices.
As we talked about it afterward, once one gets past the initial sense of awkwardness at the intimacy of being at prayer with another person (and worrying whether or not one will get the responses right), worshipping in such a quiet way can be quite powerful. I was appreciative for my companion in prayer... especially because I wasn't quite in the mood for Morning Prayer.
I pitched the sermon I had prepared but I will post it FWIW. Instead, the two of us talked about the readings and shared some laughter.
As for the rest of the day, it has been very quiet. I fell asleep in a nap for far longer than I had anticipated and consequently blew it as far as driving back downstream to spend what's left of New Year's Day with compa. I also tweaked my back this morning, reaching down to pick a cat food dish off the floor, so have been moving a bit gingerly.
My thoughts and prayers go out to all seminarians who will start taking the General Ordination Examinations tomorrow. The GOEs are the Episcopalian equivalent of a bar exam and all-out mental and physical week-long sprint.
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Feast of the Holy Name 2007
Naming something or someone, a place, a newborn child, even a family animal, can be so difficult. Families will sometimes wait days before giving their newborn a name — despite having picked out several names before the child was born. Somehow when the moment comes for real, they hesitate. And for good reason. To name someone is to call into being aspects of that person’s character and essence — to find out who they are. (Conversely, one wonders at some of the wild names out there and what on earth the parents were thinking or not thinking when they gave a name to their child.) The importance of a name and its evocative power is exactly what this morning’s feast is about.
The lectionary makes us jump back again in time from what we heard yesterday. We have backed up from the cosmos to the shepherds going to worship the Christ child in the manger, seeing and marveling at him and then returning glorifying and praising God. Mary remains quiet throughout this portion of the story, having already declared her great hymn of praise, the Magnificat. Then the gospel readings ends simply with the statement that the child was called Jesus, the name given him by the angel before he was conceived.
In Hebraic thought, to name someone is to know that person’s nature. The passage from Exodus recounts how God reveals the divine name in a single word, Adonai, I AM WHO I AM. Not that we can fully know God’s nature, but in that naming of God’s self, God tells us a bit about who God is — being and life. Then to help us, God provides a summary of God’s character — above all, abounding in steadfast mercy.
Likewise, the name Emmanuel, God-with-us, reveals some of Jesus’ character, namely that Christ is with us and in us at all times for ever. By becoming flesh and dwelling among us, God Incarnate in Jesus, is more present, more real to us.
If the name of God is I AM, and Jesus is, God-with-us, what is our name? As those baptised in Christ’s name, it is ‘child of God,’ ‘Christ’s child.’ As children of the light, sons and daughters of God, we find Christ in one another.
Maggie Ross, an Anglican anchorite, once wrote that after we have received communion, we should bow before one another because each one of us has become a tabernacle, a dwelling for God.
Many years ago, in the same vein, someone wrote me the following e-mail in response to a sermon. I warned the person at the time that what was in the email might make it into the sermon and here it is, with permission granted way back when….
The email read:
‘I believe that Jesus comes to us all of the time because of the promise given to the disciples, ‘Lo I am with you always.’ We are given the Grace of Jesus’ presence in the Sacrament of Communion. We open ourselves to that presence.
‘…As you go and walk about in the days to come this week, how does Jesus appear to you? How has Jesus come to your life? More importantly the question is: How does Jesus come into the lives of the people you live with and meet along the way? How do others see Jesus come to them in you? What is the image of Christ? You are the image of Christ to people you meet. I am the image of Christ to people I meet.’
As those sealed and marked by Christ for ever, in whom Christ dwells, whose name we share, may Christ give us hope to look forward to the challenges of tomorrow; courage to face hardships without losing hope; faith so that the joy of receiving Christ into our lives will lead us to serve our brothers and sisters; appreciation for the gifts that we have received, that we may use them responsibly, daring to offer friendship, service and love to others; and the gift of Christmas throughout the year.
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