First Sunday after Christmas
28 December 2014
Saint Faith’s Anglican Church
Vancouver BC
Focus
Text: Luke 2.22-40
Click here to listen to the Sermon as preached at the 10.00 a.m. Eucharist on the 28th.
Click here to listen to the Sermon as preached at the 10.00 a.m. Eucharist on the 28th.
When
I was ordained transitional deacon in June of 1981, the Bishop of Colorado,
Bill Frey, decided to appoint me as ‘Deacon to the Bishops’. It was a position that Bill had created in
the early period of the restoration of the diaconate as a full and equal
ministry in the Diocese. Although I was
not called to the diaconate, there were no deacons yet ordained in the Diocese,
so Bill made use of transitional deacons as models of the diaconate for the
Diocese. I was clearly instructed that
my role was as a deacon not as a ‘priest in training’.
More
than half of my time on the Diocesan Staff was spent assisting the new
Suffragan Bishop, William H. Wolfrum, known to everyone as ‘Dub’ for ‘W’. Dub had begun his professional life as a
wildlife biologist who specialized in trout habitats in Wyoming. His life’s journey had led him to ordination
as a transitional deacon and priest in Wyoming before election as a
bishop. Dub expected me to help him
become a good bishop and I looked to Dub to help me to grow as an ordained
minister.
One
day Dub called me into his office.
Apparently the word had gotten round the office, where, by the way, a
young woman by the name of Paula Porter worked, that I was walking around ‘like
a turtle pulling his head into his shell’.
I cannot remember the details thirty years later, but I can remember
that I was angry at one of the more difficult clergy in the Diocese. He had a knack of ‘pushing the right button’
and setting his colleagues on edge.
After
I finished my explanation of the cause, Dub was silent for a bit. He then said to me, ‘Richard, if you were a
trout, you wouldn’t last one season. You
rise to bait faster than anyone I’ve ever met.’
I am sorry to say that I am still learning but have not yet achieved
mastery of myself in this. In my journal
for the 5th of June of this year, written while I was attending a
meeting of the Bishop, Archdeacons, Regional Deans, Dean and Senior Staff,
affectionately known as ‘BARDDSS’, I wrote, ‘Wait. Watch.
Listen. Ponder. Then act.’
I should print these words on several cards and make sure that one is
with me whenever I attend a meeting!
Today
we hear the story of Simeon and Anna, two Jewish elders whose story, as told by
Luke, reminds us that the life of faith requires (i) that we have patience and
(ii) that we discipline ourselves to practice what we hope. Let’s begin with Simeon.
Most
Christians know Simeon even if they don’t know his name. The song of praise that he sings to God when
he holds the infant Jesus in his arms has been sung by Christians for almost
two thousand years: ‘Now, Lord, you are
releasing your servant in peace, according to your promise. For I have seen with my own eyes the
deliverance you have made ready in full view of all nations: a light that will bring revelation to the
Gentiles and glory to your people Israel’.[1] Anglicans have sung it at Evening Prayer
since the first Prayer Book, Presbyterians have sung it at the eucharist since
the time of John Calvin and religious orders have sung it at Compline or Night
Prayer since at least the fourth century.
Today it is often used at funerals as we give thanks for the witness of
our beloved dead.
Simeon
had been waiting, day after day, to see this.
His patience was fuelled by his confidence in the promise God had made
to him that Simeon would see the Messiah before his death. Imagine, for a moment, spending each day
looking for the Messiah, peering carefully at every face, not just children but
adults. We can almost hear Simeon’s
question, repeated many times, each day, ‘Is this the One, Lord? Or is that One?’
Then
there is Anna, the prophet after whom Paula and I named our daughter. Eighty-four years old in a world where most
women died in their thirties. There is
no mention of children and we do not know whether she lived in poverty or
whether her family is providing her with a dignified old age. What we do know is this: She lives a disciplined life of prayer,
almost a monastic life of prayer, within the confines of the Temple in
Jerusalem. Her message after seeing the
infant Jesus tells us something of what she was hoping for: the liberation of Jerusalem.[2]
My
friends, life as a Christian, especially as an Anglican Christian, in the
twenty-first century requires patience and the discipline of practicing what we
hope. We live in a culture that tends to
seek quick fixes to the world’s problems, but quick fixes are rare and frequently
only Band-Aids that peel away when the waters of the world’s tears wash over
them. No matter whether the challenges
are social, economic, environmental, political or religious, the good news
comes with bad news. The good news is
that God loves us more than we can ask or imagine and is working in us, through
us and even despite us to bring renew the creation. The bad news is that it is going to take time
and that God is relying on us to participate in this great work.
Look
to the west wall of this church. You
will see four plaques that contain the names of those who are buried in our
Memorial Garden just outside that wall. Two
are full, one is partly full and one empty.
These plaques do more than just list names; they tell a story of
patience. Many of those buried here
worked with God so that this congregation could participate in God’s great work
of renewal. For reasons that I do not
fully understand, God has not yet finished this work. But the plaques remind me that I am not
alone; I am part of a community that stretches back almost two thousand years,
even longer if I add our years to those of the people of Israel. Perhaps, whenever we are tempted to be
impatient with God, we should either look to or remember the names of our
sisters and brothers who have gone before us in this place. And remember that there are likely to be more
as we continue in this great work.
We
also continue on in the discipline of service, worship, evangelism, education
and pastoral care, fuelled by the hope that we have in God’s promises to us,
some already fulfilled in the past and present, some to be fulfilled in the
future. I am tempted to buy every
Anglican in the Diocese of New Westminster that little red coffee mug that reads
‘Keep calm and carry on.’ Care for those
in any need or trouble. Share in the
eucharist. Proclaim the good news. Learn about God as God is revealed in the
scriptures, in the tradition and in our lives.
Build up others in the love of Christ.
So
we wait and watch like Simeon. We listen
and ponder like Anna. Then we act in
hope, even as we lift our voices and ask our God, ‘Lord, how long before the
work is done?’ ‘Not yet,’ God seems to
be saying, ‘but keep calm and carry on.
The day is surely coming.’ Amen.
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