Showing posts with label CDSP. Show all posts
Showing posts with label CDSP. Show all posts

Tuesday, March 13, 2012

“Restore such a one in a spirit of gentleness” (Gal. 6:2)

Homily given at Church Divinity School of the Pacific on Martin of Tours in All Saints Chapel, November 2011, by Jan Robitscher


Isaiah 58:6-12                                                                                                                             All Saints Chapel
  Psalm 15                                                                                                                                   CDSP                                                                          
Galatians6:1-2                                                                                                                            November 11, 2011
  Luke 18:18-30


In the Name of God:  Father, Son and Holy Spirit. Amen.

Today is a special day on the calendar: 11-11-11. Veteran’s Day, Armistice Day (the end of WWI), my nephew’s birthday. But I could also say, Happy Advent. No, I have not taken leave of my liturgical senses! In fact, in the 6th century, today would have marked the beginning of what was called “St. Martin’s Lent”, which was later shortened to what we now call Advent. But why St. Martin? Is it only a convenience of date (about 40 days until Christmas) or are there other aspects of Martin’s life that connect him with the season of Advent?  

There is  much hagiography about Martin, but there are some things we know.  Martin was born into a military family and, against his parents’ wishes, became a catechumen at about age 10. At 15, he was conscripted into the army, as was the custom for sons of military leaders. During that time, the story goes, he was on the road when he came upon a beggar who was almost naked, who asked for alms in the name of Christ. He took his military cloak, which was lined with lamb’s wool, and cut it in half with his sword, and gave half of it to the man. That night he had a dream in which Jesus appeared to him, clothed in half a cloak. He said, “Martin, still a catechumen, covered me with this cloak”. Martin had been a catechumen for about 8 years and his biographer, Servanus Sulpicius, said that “he flew to be baptized.”. After much struggle with his superiors, Martin retired from the army to pursue a monastic vocation uder the tuteledge of Hilary of Poitiers, who ordained him to the Presbyterate around 353.            

Martin thought that he would lead a quiet, monastic life in the hermitage he founded outside of Tours. But that was not to be. In 372 the people acclaimed him Bishop. One story goes that they lured him to town with the story that he was needed to bless a sick person, so he went. He always took Jesus’ call to serve “The least of these” very seriously. Another story has it that Martin hid in a chicken coop, trying to “duck” his responsibility, but a noisy goose gave his location away and he was carried off to be consecrated.1  If, when you were a child, you ever played the game “Duck, duck, duck, GOOSE!”, now you know how it came about.

As bishop, Martin was both an apologist against the Arians and a reconciler for those the church wanted to punish for being heritics. He was adamently opposed to the death penalty and he took St. Paul’s words seriously: 

                        My friends, if anyone is detected in a transgression, 

                                you who have received the Spirit should restore such 

                                a one in a spirit of gentleness. (Gal. 6:1)                                



Martin tried to convince the emperor to spare the life of the heritic Priscillian and some of his followers from execution (as Bp. Ichtacias has wanted) but his negotiations failed and they became the first heritics who suffered execution rather than excommunication. Martin took Bp. Icthacias back, and even received Communion with him, but always wondered if this was the right decision. After this, Martin avoided gatherings of bishops, not wanting to cross paths with those who were involved in something so contrary to his own calling to be a reconciler and he demanded that the emperor stay out of church affairs. 

 Martin died at about the age of 80. An ascetic to the end, he refused all comforts, wanting to imitate Jesus’ own suffering. Shortly before he died he is reported to have said:                        

                        “Lord, if your people still need me I do not refuse the work. 

                                Your will be done.”


His feast has been celebrated since the 6th century and he was the first saint on the Roman Calendar who was not a martyr. His Feast Day is celebrated in Europe as a harvest festival, known as Martinmas, and, in modern times, also celebrates peace in Europe.2 The monastery he founded lasted until the French Revolution and he is one of the patron saints of France and also of soldiers, the military and several cities, and of many other things including winemaking! His cloak (or half a cloak) became a very famous relic, and from that word, cappa came the word capalam (the custodian of the cloak), then cappella, chapel  (small church), and eventually the French word chapelain from which we get our word “chaplain”.3 

But all of this begs the question: What does Martin have to do with Advent? Martin did more than study the Scriptures while a catechumen. He made the decision to live them out. He lived the life of the poor, taking to heart Jesus’ words to the rich man of our Gospel lesson:         

                        Sell all that you own and distribute the money to the poor,

                        and you will have treasure in heaven.  (Luke 18:22)          

                       



He was passionate about St. Paul’s words on reconciliation in our Epistle lesson and the exhortation :

                        Bear one another’s burdens, and in this way you

                                will fulfill the whole law of Christ.  (Gal. 6:2)

                       

But most of all, Martin was determined to carry out Jesus’ words:

                        “In as much as you did it to one of the least

                                of these, you did it to me.”



He shunned honors and the trappings of high office, always living the monastic life even while he was bishop. But he was also obedient to God’s call, giving in to the discernment of others, making himself available to God. And he was willing to wait. He waited to become a catechumen and then to be baptized and then to be ordained, waited until the right time and place. 

The marking of the old six-week Advent with St. Martin’s Day is no accident. For Martin was the very essence of Advent lived out. His willingness to wait, to be available for God (even if sometimes reluctantly); his care of the poor and the sick; his call to be a reconciler among factions in and out of the Church, his refusing 

of the pomp and trappings of high office in favor of the monastic life, his self-sacrifice--all of these are a reflection--however faint--of the Incarnation itself.. And I am sure he knew and felt all of the comings of Christ--in the past, at his birth, in the present in Word and Sacrament and his coming again in glory. 

So I wish you a blessed 11-11-11--Veteran’s Day, Armistice Day, and the Feast Day of St. Martin of Tours. Happy Martinmas! And may I say, a bit early, Happy Advent!


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.



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.