“Again, Jesus spoke to them, saying,
‘ I am the light of the world.’”
(Jn. 8:12)
Year 1: Epiphany VI
Jan Robitscher
Evensong
St. Mark’s Church
February 13, 2011
Psalm 19
Isaiah 62:6-12
John 8: 12-19
In the Name of God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.
So, here we are, in the midst of the service of Evensong, as the sun is setting, singing God’s praises, in the middle of the Season of the Epiphany--or “showing forth” of God in Christ--the Season of Light.
But in a way, it would be hard to tell, as we are surrounded by electric lights that almost obliterate the difference between day and night. And what of all those candles? Are they not superfluous? And yet we do watch the sky darken and catch the light mediated by the stained glass and we must admit that our world is often a pretty dark and scary place, especially at night. Sometimes all the lights of our streets and cities--and even here--only mask our anxiety. Maybe we really are afraid of the dark. Maybe we really are comforted by those candles. Maybe they remind us that we do need Jesus to be our light. But how does this happen and what does Jesus mean anyway claiming himself to be “the light of the world” (?) And what does this mean for us?
I think the way in might be through the words of the Phos Hilaron, the hymn “O Gracious Light” that we sang just a few moments ago. It dates from at least the 3rd century and is among the oldest of Christian hymns in continuous use. Basil the Great (d. A.D. 379) speaks of this hymn as so ancient that no one knows its author. (The Hymnal 1982 Companion, Vol. Two, p. 24) It was sung as the lamps were lit (and still is in Orthodox Vespers--you can see it and hear it on YouTube). Let’s look at the words again from the Book of Common Prayer (p, 64):
Said: O Gracious Light.
Pure brightness of the everliving Father in heaven.
O Jesus Christ, holy and blessed!
It is here that we find the very claim Jesus makes of himself in our Gospel reading: I AM the light of the world. The hymn-prayer addresses Jesus: Phos hilaron--O gracious light, quite literally, O happy--O hilarious light--Jesus, the Light that is the source of our joy and our peace as night approaches. Jesus, the merciful and redeeming light, not only of the People Israel, but of the whole world. Jesus, the Light that the darkness cannot overcome.
Now as we come to the setting of the sun,
and our eyes behold the vesper light,
we sing thy praises, O God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit.
It is in this second verse that we find the purpose of all these lights and especially all the candles we see. They remind us, who have not seen Jesus in the flesh, that we are surrounded by God in Trinity of Persons and unity of being. Jesus is right here. Knowing this, we will pray for protection through the coming night.
And the final verse:
Thou art worthy at all times
to be praised by happy voices,
O Son of God, O giver of life,
and to be glorified through all the worlds.
Here another translation and tune might be helpful:
Sung: O Son of God, O source of light,
praise is your due by night and day.
Unsullied lips must raise the strain
Of your proclaimed and splendid name.
Words: William C. Storey, Morning Praise and Evensong
Music: Notre Dame, Jan Robitscher
Unsullied lips... The same joyful light--Jesus--is also a searching light. This light will show us our sins, each and all of us--but it will also be a purifying and merciful light. In this way, we are able to “praise God with happy voices”, no matter how we feel at the moment, for God is worthy of such praise always. And Jesus is not only our light, for us, individually, but for us as a community here; not only for the dark streets of this neighborhood or this city or even our country, but for the whole world.
And Jesus said something else, beyond tonight’s Gospel reading: he said, “YOU are the light of the world.” If we follow Jesus the Light, then what we do in this world matters. We must be the Light of Jesus for those in the darkness of poverty or sickness or prison or despair or, like the people of Egypt in recent days, yearning to be free.
So we gather here for Evensong and hymn the setting sun, light the lamps and sing the praises of Jesus the Light of the world. And we will go from here carrying that Light into a dark and weary world so much in need of that Light--that gracious, happy Light; that light no darkness can extinguish; to whom be praise and glory for ever and ever. AMEN.
COLLECTS AT THE PRAYERS
We thank thee, O God, that thou didst give thy Son Jesus Christ
to be the light to the world, and that in him thou has revealed thy
glory and the wonder of thy saving love. Help us to love thee who
hast so loved us; strengthen us for the service of thy kingdom; and
grant that the light of Christ may so shine throughout the world
that [people] everywhere may be drawn to him who is the saviour and
Lord of all, and the whole earth be filled with thy glory; through the
same Jesus Christ our Lord. AMEN.
(Parish Prayers, Frank Colquhoun, Ed. #103)
A Prayer of St. Chrysostom
Almighty God, who hast given us grace at this time with one accord
to make our common supplication unto thee, and hast promised
through thy well-beloved Son that when two or three are gathered
together in his Name thou wilt be in the midst of them: Fulfill now,
O Lord, the desires and petitions of thy servants as may be best
for us; granting us in this world knowledge of thy truth, and in the
world to come life everlasting. AMEN.
Let us bless the Lord.
Thanks be to God.
The grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, and the love of God, and the
fellowship of the Holy Ghost, be with us all evermore. AMEN.
Monday, March 7, 2011
Thursday, February 10, 2011
Samuel Isaac Joseph Schereschewsky -- sermon by Jan Robitscher
“So we do not lose heart.”
(2 Cor. 4:16)
Samuel Isaac Joseph Schereschewsky
Bishop of Shanghai, 1906
Jan Robitscher
Thursday, Oct. 14, 2010
All Saints Chapel
CDSP
Isaiah 12:1-6
Psalm 84:1-6
2 Corinthians 4:11-18
Luke 24:44-48
In the Name of God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.
When I was a child I remember well the visits of my Aunt Ida Mae Flagler Daly. She was actually my great aunt, the sister of my mother’s mother, but we always called her “Aunt Ida Mae”. What was so special about her visits was that she came with her wheel chair, and I watched spellbound to see how she managed everything from makeup to meals, all with barely the use of one arm due to some kind of muscular dystrophy which was never really diagnosed. She was pretty and kind, was a talented artist and designed the first apartments for persons with disabilities in Seattle. Though I never knew her religion or spirituality (I think she was Presbyterian) she was, to me, a saint.
Today we remember Samuel Isaac Joseph Schereschewsky. Also a person of many talents and much patience; a convert to Christianity, a bishop with a gift for languages and, toward the end of his life, an example of patience and perseverance. For he was--and is--a saint in the most classic sense--a man whose life became totally dedicated to God and to the evangelizing work of translating the Scriptures into various Chinese dialects--all this in the face of suffering and disability. But we are getting ahead of ourselves.
Born in Lithuania in 1831 to a Jewish family, Schereschewsky wanted to become a rabbi, and studied at the Rabbinical College in Zhitomeer in Russia. He also spent two years studying in Germany. While there, he met a group called the London Society for Promoting Christianity Amongst the Jews. That and his own reading of a Hebrew translation of the New Testament (interesting in itself) led to his conversion. In 1854 he emigrated to America and began studies at the Western Theological Seminary in Pittsburgh in order to become a Presbyterian minister, but left there after two years, became Episcopalian and finished his seminary studies at the General Seminary in New York.
It was in response to Bp. Boone’s call for missionary helpers in China that Schereschewsky left for Shanghai. On the way there he learned to read and write Mandarin. From 1862-1875, he translated the Old Testament and parts of the Prayer Book from Hebrew into Mandarin and the New Testament from Greek into Mongolian. He also translated the New Testament from Greek into Mandarin. He then began a translation of the whole Bible into Wenli, another Chinese dialect.
He won so much respect for his work that in 1875 he was elected Bishop, but he declined, and instead earned two doctorates! In 1877 he was elected Bishop again and this time, with some urging, he accepted.
In 1883, Bp. Schereschewsky’s life changed dramatically when he was stricken with a form of Parkinson’s disease, confining him to a wheelchair. He resigned his see. But his paralysis did not diminish his work of translating the Bible into Wenli, typing some two thousand pages with the one finger of his hand that did work. He is an extraordinary example of St. Paul’s words:
It is worth noting that, if Schereschewsky had been paralyzed any sooner, he would never have been educated, much less ordained. His disability was considered an impediment. Our own buildings here at CDSP which, until recently, were not accessible, were built for able-bodied men. God only called those who were physically perfect, the “unblemished lamb” of Leviticus (21:18ff). But there is something more subtle. Where formerly Schereschewsky was recognized (and chosen bishop) for his accomplishments in languages, education and works of evangelism, it is sad to note that after he became disabled, the accolades faded, and the attitudes toward persons with disabilities in general, and Bp. Schereschewsky in particular were fraught with negative images and labels. Here is a description of him at the end of his life. One who knew Bishop Schereschewsky in Tokyo said of him:
"I have often wondered at the patience of the man as he sat with his Hebrew Bible before him, reading it into Chinese for the Chinese scribe who acted as amanuensis. That in itself was a very pathetic sight, but far more pathetic it must have been to watch the crippled scholar working all by himself in America, and slowly spelling out his translation with the aid of a typewriter and one finger, which was only a little less useless than the others. [The Churchman, October 20, 1906.]
But Schereschewsky had no such thoughts of himself or of God. Four years before his death, he said,
For he knew, as St. Paul said:
(2 Cor. 4: 17-18)
Maybe--just maybe--God really does call those who are not physically perfect. St. Paul attests to this:
(1Cor.1: 27-28)
Almost twenty years after Schereschewsky, Henry Winter Syle became the first deaf person to receive Holy Orders. But it would take the church another hundred years to even begin the process of changing canon law to officially permit the ordination of persons with disabilities. And even at that, it does not happen often. Both men were, by the grace given them, able to glorify God not in spite of their disabilities, but through them. Here is some Good News!
But what about today? Are our attitudes really that different from the comment about Schereschewsky at the end of his life? Joni Erickson Tada was paralyzed in an accident, uses a wheelchair and is often in a lot of pain. Like my Aunt Ida Mae, she taught herself to paint and, holding pencils in her mouth, expresses herself in art, as well as through music and writing. She says, of our “culture of comfort”:
We want to erase suffering out of the dictionary. We want to eradicate it,
avoid it, give it ibuprofen, institutionalize is, divorce it, surgically exorcise it,
do anything but live with it.
Like Bp. Schereschewsky, she has been looked upon as “pathetic”. Like the good bishop, like Henry Winter Syle and my great Aunt, Joni has found in God--by God’s grace--a way to live through her disability.
I only remember receiving one short letter from Aunt Ida Mae, but I will never forget what she said. From one person with a disability to another she wrote,“The alternative to a good education is unthinkable!” I am grateful that Samuel Isaac Joseph Schereschewsky was able to be educated and to use his education and gifts right to the end of his life. I am grateful that, finally schools of all kinds, including ours, are more accessible to persons with disabilities. I am grateful for the education I have received. And I hope that, in addition to being a shining example of a good life well lived, Bp. Schereschewsky can add his prayers that one day it will be common --or at least less uncommon--to see persons with disabilities in all leadership positions and all ministries in the Church.
Bp. Schereschewsky, Henry Winter Syle, my Aunt Ida Mae and Joni Erickson Tada had at least one thing in common other than their disabilities. Each was able to say YES to the call of God, each in their own way, through their various gifts and talents. Each found in God the grace to persevere in that call in the midst of suffering. And each lay hold of a faith beyond seeing that leads through suffering to resurrection. May we join with them in celebrating this greatest Good News of all!
Sources: The Rev. Michael Dresbach,
http://padremickey.blogspot.com anglicanhistory.org/asia/china/bishops1908
Religion and Ethics Newsweekly, September 24, 2010
Report on Joni Erickson Tada
(2 Cor. 4:16)
Samuel Isaac Joseph Schereschewsky
Bishop of Shanghai, 1906
Jan Robitscher
Thursday, Oct. 14, 2010
All Saints Chapel
CDSP
Isaiah 12:1-6
Psalm 84:1-6
2 Corinthians 4:11-18
Luke 24:44-48
In the Name of God: Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.
When I was a child I remember well the visits of my Aunt Ida Mae Flagler Daly. She was actually my great aunt, the sister of my mother’s mother, but we always called her “Aunt Ida Mae”. What was so special about her visits was that she came with her wheel chair, and I watched spellbound to see how she managed everything from makeup to meals, all with barely the use of one arm due to some kind of muscular dystrophy which was never really diagnosed. She was pretty and kind, was a talented artist and designed the first apartments for persons with disabilities in Seattle. Though I never knew her religion or spirituality (I think she was Presbyterian) she was, to me, a saint.
 |
| Samuel Isaac Joseph Schereschewsky |
Born in Lithuania in 1831 to a Jewish family, Schereschewsky wanted to become a rabbi, and studied at the Rabbinical College in Zhitomeer in Russia. He also spent two years studying in Germany. While there, he met a group called the London Society for Promoting Christianity Amongst the Jews. That and his own reading of a Hebrew translation of the New Testament (interesting in itself) led to his conversion. In 1854 he emigrated to America and began studies at the Western Theological Seminary in Pittsburgh in order to become a Presbyterian minister, but left there after two years, became Episcopalian and finished his seminary studies at the General Seminary in New York.
It was in response to Bp. Boone’s call for missionary helpers in China that Schereschewsky left for Shanghai. On the way there he learned to read and write Mandarin. From 1862-1875, he translated the Old Testament and parts of the Prayer Book from Hebrew into Mandarin and the New Testament from Greek into Mongolian. He also translated the New Testament from Greek into Mandarin. He then began a translation of the whole Bible into Wenli, another Chinese dialect.
He won so much respect for his work that in 1875 he was elected Bishop, but he declined, and instead earned two doctorates! In 1877 he was elected Bishop again and this time, with some urging, he accepted.
In 1883, Bp. Schereschewsky’s life changed dramatically when he was stricken with a form of Parkinson’s disease, confining him to a wheelchair. He resigned his see. But his paralysis did not diminish his work of translating the Bible into Wenli, typing some two thousand pages with the one finger of his hand that did work. He is an extraordinary example of St. Paul’s words:
So we do not lose heart. Even though our
outer nature is wasting away, our inner
nature is being renewed day by day.
 |
| Chinese translation |
"I have often wondered at the patience of the man as he sat with his Hebrew Bible before him, reading it into Chinese for the Chinese scribe who acted as amanuensis. That in itself was a very pathetic sight, but far more pathetic it must have been to watch the crippled scholar working all by himself in America, and slowly spelling out his translation with the aid of a typewriter and one finger, which was only a little less useless than the others. [The Churchman, October 20, 1906.]
 |
| Bishop at his work |
But Schereschewsky had no such thoughts of himself or of God. Four years before his death, he said,
I have sat in this chair for over twenty years.
It seemed very hard at first. But God knew best.
He kept me for the work for which I was best fitted.
For he knew, as St. Paul said:
(2 Cor. 4: 17-18)
For this slight momentary affliction is preparing us
for an eternal weigh of glory beyond all measure. For
we look not at what can be seen but at what cannot
be seen; for what can be seen is temporary but what
cannot be seen is eternal.
Maybe--just maybe--God really does call those who are not physically perfect. St. Paul attests to this:
(1Cor.1: 27-28)
But God chose what is foolish in the world
to shame the wise; God chose what is weak
in the world to shame the strong; God chose
what is low and despised in the world, even
things that are not...so that no one might boast
in the presence of God.
Almost twenty years after Schereschewsky, Henry Winter Syle became the first deaf person to receive Holy Orders. But it would take the church another hundred years to even begin the process of changing canon law to officially permit the ordination of persons with disabilities. And even at that, it does not happen often. Both men were, by the grace given them, able to glorify God not in spite of their disabilities, but through them. Here is some Good News!
But what about today? Are our attitudes really that different from the comment about Schereschewsky at the end of his life? Joni Erickson Tada was paralyzed in an accident, uses a wheelchair and is often in a lot of pain. Like my Aunt Ida Mae, she taught herself to paint and, holding pencils in her mouth, expresses herself in art, as well as through music and writing. She says, of our “culture of comfort”:
We want to erase suffering out of the dictionary. We want to eradicate it,
avoid it, give it ibuprofen, institutionalize is, divorce it, surgically exorcise it,
do anything but live with it.
Like Bp. Schereschewsky, she has been looked upon as “pathetic”. Like the good bishop, like Henry Winter Syle and my great Aunt, Joni has found in God--by God’s grace--a way to live through her disability.
I only remember receiving one short letter from Aunt Ida Mae, but I will never forget what she said. From one person with a disability to another she wrote,“The alternative to a good education is unthinkable!” I am grateful that Samuel Isaac Joseph Schereschewsky was able to be educated and to use his education and gifts right to the end of his life. I am grateful that, finally schools of all kinds, including ours, are more accessible to persons with disabilities. I am grateful for the education I have received. And I hope that, in addition to being a shining example of a good life well lived, Bp. Schereschewsky can add his prayers that one day it will be common --or at least less uncommon--to see persons with disabilities in all leadership positions and all ministries in the Church.
Bp. Schereschewsky, Henry Winter Syle, my Aunt Ida Mae and Joni Erickson Tada had at least one thing in common other than their disabilities. Each was able to say YES to the call of God, each in their own way, through their various gifts and talents. Each found in God the grace to persevere in that call in the midst of suffering. And each lay hold of a faith beyond seeing that leads through suffering to resurrection. May we join with them in celebrating this greatest Good News of all!
Sources: The Rev. Michael Dresbach,
http://padremickey.blogspot.com anglicanhistory.org/asia/china/bishops1908
Religion and Ethics Newsweekly, September 24, 2010
Report on Joni Erickson Tada
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Ascension & Outpouring of the Holy Spirit--Homily by Jan Robitscher
“...[B]ut I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice...”
(Jn. 16:22)
Friday in the Sixth Week of Easter,
LFF 80
Ezekiel 34:11-16
Psalm 98:1-4
Acts 18:1-8
John 16:20-23a
May 14, 2010
Jan Robitscher
All Saints Chapel
Church Divinity School of the Pacific
Come, Holy Spirit.
Fill the hearts of your faithful people
and kindle in us the fire of your love.
Send forth your breath and we shall be created
and you shall renew the face of the earth. AMEN.
(Jn. 16:22)
Friday in the Sixth Week of Easter,
LFF 80
Ezekiel 34:11-16
Psalm 98:1-4
Acts 18:1-8
John 16:20-23a
May 14, 2010
Jan Robitscher
All Saints Chapel
Church Divinity School of the Pacific
Come, Holy Spirit.
Fill the hearts of your faithful people
and kindle in us the fire of your love.
Send forth your breath and we shall be created
and you shall renew the face of the earth. AMEN.
I have very few books from what was my father’s extensive library. One is a 
copy of T.S. Eliot’s Four Quartets.
One of my favorite quotes is this:
What we call the beginning is often the end.
And to make an end is to make a beginning.
The end is where we start from.
So here we are, at the end. It is the end of the week, the end of the semester, the end of the school year, and, for some, the end of your time here at CDSP. With our celebration of the Ascension of Our Lord last night, it is the end of the time when Jesus appeared to his disciples in his resurrected, glorified body. The disciples must have ached with loneliness all over again, not knowing what would come next. Perhaps they were not able to hear or understand
the words Jesus spoke to them before:
So you have pain now; but I will see you again,
and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take
your joy from you. (Jn. 16:22)
Our readings are curious ones for this day. They seem to be alive with activity: tending sheep (literal and allegorical), traveling, preaching the Gospel, baptizing, and Jesus’ cryptic words about pain now and joy later. I think these readings won’t make much sense unless we take a step back and get a different perspective.
Just before his Ascension, Jesus left some instructions, which St. Luke records in the first chapter of Acts:
While staying with them, [Jesus] ordered them not to leave
Jerusalem, but to wait there for the promise of the Father… (Acts 1:4)
They had to WAIT. If I could borrow the line from Fr. Tom Brackett’s sermon-story that we heard just a few weeks ago, it was one of those “STOP EVERYTHING” moments. Before they could go out and preach and teach and heal and grow the Church, they had to WAIT:
…constantly devoting themselves to prayer, together with
certain women, including Mary the mother of Jesus, as well
as his brothers. (Acts 1:14)
Only in waiting could the disciples and the women come to terms with the pain of their (seeming) double loss of Jesus. Only in waiting could they empty themselves, making space for the Holy Spirit to come. Then, as Jesus said when he tried to prepare them before his Passion, then they would know a joy that no one could take from them. On that day—the Day of Pentecost—they needed to ask nothing of Jesus. Only after they had received the Holy Spirit could they ask for what they needed of the Father, so that their joy could be complete.
Is it any different for us? We are now in that liminal space between Jesus’ Ascension and the Day of Pentecost. What would happen if we laid aside everything that was not absolutely necessary and devoted ourselves, as a community, to prayer, readying ourselves to receive the promised Holy Spirit? What if our parishes did this? Our dioceses? The Episcopal Church? The whole Anglican Communion? What would happen if we were to WAIT to discern what it is that God really wants us to do? Discernment is, after all, one of the gifts of the Spirit. What if we prayed the ancient prayer with which I began, and what if it were really answered?
We do have some idea of what it is Jesus wants us to do. From the moment of his Ascension,
Jesus made clear what Teresa of Avila would later say so well:
"Christ has no body on earth but ours, no hands but ours, no feet but ours. Ours are the eyes through which the compassion of Christ looks out upon the world, ours are the feet with which he goes about doing good, ours are the hands with which he blesses his people."
We are now to be Jesus’ hands and feet and heart in the world. If we read a few verses beyond our Gospel reading, we know that Jesus wants us to have eternal life; and he wants us to be one, as Jesus and the Father are one. Jesus makes all of this possible by the gift of the Holy Spirit, leading us into all truth.
But that is only the beginning. We are constantly nourished and strengthened by Jesus’ giving us himself in Communion each time we come to this Table. Then, when we receive Jesus, we become “Christ-bearers”—empowered by the Holy Spirit to bring Jesus into a wounded world.
So this is a time of endings and T.S. Eliot is right:
What we call the beginning is often the end.
And to make an end is to make a beginning.
The end is where we start from.
It is from here, at the end, that we must start. But it is also a time of beginnings, of commencement in the best sense of the word. It is a time to prepare for a fresh outpouring of the Holy Spirit, so that the Church can begin anew, and we can do the first Apostles did—preach and teach to anyone who would listen, and to baptize in Jesus’ name and in the power of the Holy Spirit. Then we will have—as they did--the joy that Jesus promised: “…and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you.” AMEN.
Artwork: Descending like a Dove
Sally
Brower
e-Mail sbrowerphd@aol.com
My art emerges from the intersection of the deepening of the personal spiritual life and participation in the communal life of faith. Through photography, I retrace the footsteps of Christian pilgrims and record the vestiges of their journeys, the shrines, altars, and thin places where they meet God. My art is both my spiritual practice and an invitation to others to awaken to the mystery of God, risk holy encounter, and cross the threshold of their heart's deep hopes.
As seen on Episcopal Church Visual Arts here.
copy of T.S. Eliot’s Four Quartets.
One of my favorite quotes is this:
What we call the beginning is often the end.
And to make an end is to make a beginning.
The end is where we start from.
So here we are, at the end. It is the end of the week, the end of the semester, the end of the school year, and, for some, the end of your time here at CDSP. With our celebration of the Ascension of Our Lord last night, it is the end of the time when Jesus appeared to his disciples in his resurrected, glorified body. The disciples must have ached with loneliness all over again, not knowing what would come next. Perhaps they were not able to hear or understand
the words Jesus spoke to them before:
So you have pain now; but I will see you again,
and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take
your joy from you. (Jn. 16:22)
Our readings are curious ones for this day. They seem to be alive with activity: tending sheep (literal and allegorical), traveling, preaching the Gospel, baptizing, and Jesus’ cryptic words about pain now and joy later. I think these readings won’t make much sense unless we take a step back and get a different perspective.
Just before his Ascension, Jesus left some instructions, which St. Luke records in the first chapter of Acts:
While staying with them, [Jesus] ordered them not to leave
Jerusalem, but to wait there for the promise of the Father… (Acts 1:4)
They had to WAIT. If I could borrow the line from Fr. Tom Brackett’s sermon-story that we heard just a few weeks ago, it was one of those “STOP EVERYTHING” moments. Before they could go out and preach and teach and heal and grow the Church, they had to WAIT:
…constantly devoting themselves to prayer, together with
certain women, including Mary the mother of Jesus, as well
as his brothers. (Acts 1:14)
Only in waiting could the disciples and the women come to terms with the pain of their (seeming) double loss of Jesus. Only in waiting could they empty themselves, making space for the Holy Spirit to come. Then, as Jesus said when he tried to prepare them before his Passion, then they would know a joy that no one could take from them. On that day—the Day of Pentecost—they needed to ask nothing of Jesus. Only after they had received the Holy Spirit could they ask for what they needed of the Father, so that their joy could be complete.
Is it any different for us? We are now in that liminal space between Jesus’ Ascension and the Day of Pentecost. What would happen if we laid aside everything that was not absolutely necessary and devoted ourselves, as a community, to prayer, readying ourselves to receive the promised Holy Spirit? What if our parishes did this? Our dioceses? The Episcopal Church? The whole Anglican Communion? What would happen if we were to WAIT to discern what it is that God really wants us to do? Discernment is, after all, one of the gifts of the Spirit. What if we prayed the ancient prayer with which I began, and what if it were really answered?
We do have some idea of what it is Jesus wants us to do. From the moment of his Ascension,
Jesus made clear what Teresa of Avila would later say so well:"Christ has no body on earth but ours, no hands but ours, no feet but ours. Ours are the eyes through which the compassion of Christ looks out upon the world, ours are the feet with which he goes about doing good, ours are the hands with which he blesses his people."
We are now to be Jesus’ hands and feet and heart in the world. If we read a few verses beyond our Gospel reading, we know that Jesus wants us to have eternal life; and he wants us to be one, as Jesus and the Father are one. Jesus makes all of this possible by the gift of the Holy Spirit, leading us into all truth.
But that is only the beginning. We are constantly nourished and strengthened by Jesus’ giving us himself in Communion each time we come to this Table. Then, when we receive Jesus, we become “Christ-bearers”—empowered by the Holy Spirit to bring Jesus into a wounded world.
So this is a time of endings and T.S. Eliot is right:
What we call the beginning is often the end.
And to make an end is to make a beginning.
The end is where we start from.
It is from here, at the end, that we must start. But it is also a time of beginnings, of commencement in the best sense of the word. It is a time to prepare for a fresh outpouring of the Holy Spirit, so that the Church can begin anew, and we can do the first Apostles did—preach and teach to anyone who would listen, and to baptize in Jesus’ name and in the power of the Holy Spirit. Then we will have—as they did--the joy that Jesus promised: “…and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you.” AMEN.
Artwork: Descending like a Dove
Sally
Brower
e-Mail sbrowerphd@aol.com
My art emerges from the intersection of the deepening of the personal spiritual life and participation in the communal life of faith. Through photography, I retrace the footsteps of Christian pilgrims and record the vestiges of their journeys, the shrines, altars, and thin places where they meet God. My art is both my spiritual practice and an invitation to others to awaken to the mystery of God, risk holy encounter, and cross the threshold of their heart's deep hopes.
As seen on Episcopal Church Visual Arts here.
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