Easter 2 Evensong, 2010--St. Mark's Church, Berkeley

“Blessed are they who have not seen
and yet have come to believe.”

(John 20:29)
Year A: Easter 2

Genesis 8:6-16; 9:8-16
Psalm 118:19-24
John 20:19-31

Jan Robitscher
Evensong
St. Mark’s Church

April 11, 2010


Alleluia! Christ is risen.
The Lord is risen indeed. Alleluia!

This day has several names: It is Sunday, the Lord’s Day. Sometimes it is called “Low Sunday” because of low attendance after Easter. But it is also known as the Second Sunday of Easter, or “Thomas Sunday”, in honor of our Gospel reading, which is always heard on this day.

Maybe it should be called “Doubting Thomas Sunday”. After all, it was Thomas who insisted on seeing and touching Jesus for himself if he was going to believe that the Lord was truly risen from the dead. But I think Thomas gets a bad rap. Doubt--the ability to ask questions (or even to demand signs) is not the same thing as unbelief--willfully rejecting one’s faith. The opposite of faith is fear--not doubt.

Which reminds me of an occasion some 30 years ago. I can still picture the scene. While a student at the University of Notre Dame, I sat in the office of my spiritual director, the Dean the Episcopal Cathedral. We were talking about perceiving Jesus’ presence in Communion and in our daily lives and I blurted out, I WANT TO SEE JESUS!”

This was my “Doubting Thomas” moment. Wisely, the Dean did not panic! Instead, he remained calm and I still remember what he said:
“I understand that you want to see Jesus, but
it is not given to us to see Him physically in
this life.”

Perhaps that is what Jesus meant when he told Thomas:
“Have you believed because you have seen me?
Blessed are those who have not seen and yet
have come to believe.”

Jesus’ words came at the end of the story, but let’s back up a bit. Thomas, who was not present the first time Jesus appeared in resurrection form, wanted to be sure that the Jesus he was now seeing was the same one whose Passion he had witnessed. And he was looking for something quite specific; the wounds of Jesus. Why should this make a difference in his ability to believe?

The only way for him to tell was to see and touch the wounds. He did indeed see them, though the Scripture never tells us that he touched them. Perhaps it was enough for him to hear Jesus’ invitation to do so. Thomas response was to acclaim Jesus’ divinity--that God was in their very midst.

All well and good for Thomas! But I wanted to say as a retort to the Dean’s gentle reply, “IT’S NOT FAIR! THOMAS GOT TO SEE JESUS!”

Like Thomas, we want to see Jesus; to relate to him physically as our earthly Master. But if Thomas is our model in doubt, he must also be our model in faith. Thomas was invited by Jesus into a transformation as remarkable as Jesus’ own resurrection.

Moreover, Jesus wanted to relate to the disciples, to Thomas--and to us--in a spiritual way, as a friend, even as he said (seemingly) so long ago:
“I do not call you servants any longer, because
the servant does not know what the master is doing;
but I have called you friends, because I have made
known to you everything that I have heard from
my Father.” (Jn. 15:15)

+++


“Blessed are they who have not seen, and yet
have come to believe.” (Jn 20:29)

So what are we to do? We must come to faith the same way Thomas did, except that we do not have the benefit of being able to see Jesus. How do we do this?

First, we must KNOW the wounds of Jesus. This is not as easy as it sounds. We seem to be much better at keeping the disciplines of Lent than the joys of Easter, but I am not sure we can really celebrate Easter if we do not really KNOW the wounds of Jesus; meditate on them, look beyond our own roundedness to them. Remember, it was by his wounds that Thomas recognized Jesus.

We don’t hear much about sharing in Jesus’ sufferings in our own roundedness. This is a hard process, but a vital one if we are to know Jesus as a friend--and this is important. But looking beyond our own wounds, both individually and as a community, will lead us to share in Jesus’ sufferings as we share in the sufferings of others, whether family or friends, the hungry we feed here at St. Mark’s or those who are suffering around the world. Perhaps the most remarkable reversal of all is that we cannot look beyond our own wounds to KNOW the wounds of Jesus unless we allow him to touch them. Jesus must be able to touch our wounds in order for us to touch his--or at least to hear his invitation as Thomas did.

Then we can--we must--allow the risen Christ to raise us up after we have known the wounds (that is, God’s pain) and felt them in ourselves and in others. Then we can acclaim with Thomas:
“MY LORD AND MY GOD!”

May this Easter Season be a time for us to risk doubt that we might come to a deeper faith; to know God’s wounds that we nay be healed; to be willing to share in Jesus’ sufferings in ourselves and in the sufferings of others; to come to believe without having to see Jesus--and all that we may have life in His name. Amen.

This is my beloved Son, homily by Jan Robitscher

“This is my beloved Son, the beloved...;
Listen to him!”
(Matt 17: 5)

Last Epiphany , Yr. II
Exodus 24: 12-18
Matthew 17:1-9

Jan Robitscher
St. Mark’s Church
Berkeley, CA
February 14, 2010

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

If I were to ask you what day it is, you might well answer “Sunday. Perhaps, if you were well versed in the Prayer Book, you would might say, “The Last Sunday after the Epiphany” or maybe even, “The Feast of Cyril and Methodius”, two Orthodox saints. But I’ll bet most of you would say, “It’s Valentine’s Day”, of course! And no matter which answer you gave, you would be right. But what do any or all of these answers have to do with our lessons or this service? Hear again this portion:

While [Peter] was still speaking, suddenly
a bright cloud overshadowed them, and from
the cloud a voice said, “This is my Son, the
beloved; with whom I am well pleased; listen
to him!”

The card shops have told us for a month that today is Valentine’s Day. And all the cards say, in so many words, “I love you”. What about love? How is love reflected in these lessons and on this day?

The Roman Church did celebrate the Feast of St. Valentine until their most recent reform of the liturgical calendar. Sometimes the life of a saint turns out to be mostly legends, but in this case, legends have obscured what was a real life.

Valentine, a Roman priest, together with ST. Marius
and his family, assisted the martyrs who suffered
during the reign of Emperor Claudius II in the 3rd.
century. Being apprehended, Valentine sent to the
Prefect in Rome, who ordered that he be [put to death].
He was martyred about the year 270.
(from Lives of the Saints)


So red would be the color for St. Valentine; the red of Martyrs’ blood. For the love Valentine expressed was far deeper than anything we see on Valentine’s Day cards. It was a love sprung from his own confession of Jesus as the Christ, “God’s Son, the beloved...” which enabled Valentine to assist others who would be martyred for just such a confession until he was martyred, too.

It did not take long for the Church to discover, however, that there were others who led equally heroic lives in the confession of Jesus’ name but who did not become martyrs. These they called confessors. Into this category we can place Sts. Cyril and Methodius, who are now celebrated on this day (when not a Sunday) by Episcopalians, Roman Catholics and the Orthodox Churches. The lives of these ninth century missionaries (who were, incidentally, brothers) were given over to the work of bringing the Gospel message to the Slavonic peoples. This included inventing a written alphabet, preaching and eventually
being made bishops so they could assist in ordaining new clergy. Their work was not without resistance, though, and Methodius endured a brief time in prison on false charges of heresy. Their lives represent another dimension of love; love of God, love of the message of the Good News in Jesus Christ.

And so we come to the Last Sunday after the Epiphany, and are impelled toward another Lenten Season. We bid farewell to Alleluia and Gloria and, llike Peter, James and John, fall silent before the glorious vision of God. It is a time to take the words spoken from the cloud to heart:

“This is my Son, the beloved; with whom I am well pleased;
listen to him!”

In Lent, we are asked to listen to God, even as these saints did; to allow God to show us, in Jesus, how to show our love for one another. We are asked to walk with Jesus in a love that takes us all the way through his passion and death to the celebration of his
resurrection on Easter Day. This kind of listening and loving will change us; not just for 40 days, but for life.

It has been said that every Sunday is a little Easter. Perhaps it would be better to say that every Easter is a big Sunday. Week by week on Sunday morning, and month by month at this service of Evensong, we celebrate the love God has for us in the dying and rising of Jesus--and we seek to return that love to God and to one another, however small and faltering our efforts. Today--once the Feast of St. Valentine, sometimes the Feast of Sts. Cyril and Methodius and now the Last Sunday after the Epiphany--today is Sunday, the Lord’s Day. To this we can only echo the words of the Psalmist:

>“This is the day that the Lord has made;*
let us rejoice and be glad in it.”
(Psalm 118:24)

“Master, we have worked all night long,
but have caught nothing...”

Click on image to enlarge.

Jan Robitscher
St. Mark's Church
Evensong

(Luke 5:5)
Year C Epiphany 5
Judges 6:11-24a
Psalm 85: 7-13
Luke 5:1-11
February 8, 2009

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

As we enter tonight?s Gospel story, Jesus needs a place from which to preach. So he borrowed Simon?s boat for a podium, sat down in it and taught the crowds. It must have been something to see! Whether or not they recognized Jesus as God?s Son, the sermon must have been a good one.

But just after that Jesus goes from “preachin? to meddlin?”. He commands Simon, “Put out into the deep water and let down your nets for a catch..” Now times were hard. Very hard. Whether they had not worked hard enough or the fish were elsewhere (or perhaps over-fished) did not change the reality: No fish, no food. God must have seemed very far away.

Does this sound at all familiar? It would be easy to feel Simon?s panic. “Master, we have worked all night and caught nothing. But if you say so...”

Every day we hear about and experience more and more of our new economic reality. Unfathomable amounts of money has gone to bailouts, and a good portion of that has been wasted by CEOs on high living, while the Stock Market has fallen sharply. Millions of people have lost their jobs and their homes and businesses. This has touched us right here in Berkeley. The face of hunger in America is changing, so that many in food lines are working, most making choices between food and rent or medicine. And even if we still have a job and a home, our appetite for cars and other material things has helped bring about the climate change that is drying up our water supply. The problems are not just ours. They encompass the whole world. We feel Simon?s panic,“We have worked hard all night and caught nothing.” We wonder: Where is God in our new economic reality?

To Simon's credit, he was at least able to hear Jesus? command and obey it. “If you say so, I will let down the nets.” Jesus? command must have seemed preposterous--counter to anything he knew about fishing. But the result of his obedience was a catch of fish so large he needed to call for help, and Simon recognized that Jesus, the Lord, was the source of his great catch.

Overwhelmed by the miracle, Simon fell at Jesus? feet and cried, “Go away from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man.” Like Isaiah, Jeremiah, or Gideon (from tonight?s first reading) before or saints and martyrs after him, the recognition of being in the very presence of God, of Jesus, often in their darkest hour, seemed too much and they too unworthy. Perhaps we know best the opening lines of George Herbert?s poem “Love (I)”:

Love bade me welcome, but my soul drew back,
Guilty of dust and sin...

Surely Jesus knew Simon's sins as well as he knew Simon would catch a load of fish, but that did not matter now. Jesus had other plans for Simon and his fishing partners--plans that would change the world. But there was a catch, so to speak. “Do not be afraid.” said Jesus. “From now on, you will be catching people.”

Do not be afraid. Nothing in Simon's past, or yours or mine--no amount of sin, could keep Simon (later named Peter)--or can keep us-- from doing the work Jesus has for us. But, like Simon, we must be willing to listen to him (and he often speaks through other people and events) and to do as he asks.

Fortunately, Simon, and James and John were able to take Jesus at his word and lay hold of the grace that he offered, even if they had no idea what it meant for their future. Moreover, they had the courage to to trust that others would catch fish for the table so they could leave everything--boats, nets and all--and follow him. Were it not for their obedient actions, their willingness to drop everything and follow Jesus, in spite of their sins or whatever else hindered them in the past, we would not be here at Evensong today.

In a few moments we will say the General Thanksgiving. In that prayer, we will declare our trust in God as the source and provider of all that sustains us as we pray in thanksgiving “for our creation, preservation, and all the blessings of this life”. (BCP. p. 71) And we will ask for the grace to “show forth [God?s] praise not only with our lips [as we do here in liturgy and music], but in our lives, by giving up ourselves to [God?s] service”, just as Simon and his companions did. And who knows? With God?s help, our “catch”, whether of people or whatever else God plans for us, may be very large, indeed!

CLOSING PRAYERS

Prayer from Salisbury Cathedral

Help us, Father,
to live like Jesus,
to live freely and joyfully,
willing to take risks for love;
willing to trust ourselves to your wisdon when we cannot see;
willing to believe that even out of the troubles of our lives
and the tragedies of our times
you can always bring new life both for us and for our world;
through Jesus Christ who is Lord of this time and of eternity..

(from Heart in Pilgrimage: Prayers in Salisbury Cathedral
by Hugh Dickenson, The Dean of Salisbury)

“Jesus said to [the Samaritan woman],
‘Give me a drink.’”

(Jn. 4:5)
Yr. A Lent 3
Exodus 17:1-7 Ps. 95
Jn. 4:5-26 (27-38) 39-42
Evensong
St. Mark’s Church
March 11, 2007

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

Water. It covers most of the earth. It comprises most of our bodies. It is the essence of life, itself. While we could go for many days without food, it would take only about 3 days for us to die without water. The Israelites were keenly aware of this as they traversed the desert. Our reading says they quarreled with Moses and said “Give us water to drink.” Eventually, Moses went to God with the request and God granted it, though not without consequences because they doubted God’s presence and ability to sustain them on their journey. This is only one of many references to water we hear in the Hebrew Scriptures, perhaps the most dramatic being the deliverance of Israel at the Red Sea, which we will hear at the Great Vigil of Easter.

Then there was the well. It was a hot, sultry day. Jacob’s well had been a place of meeting and of conversation among the women who had gathered there early in the morning. Now it was an empty, lonely place. Jesus came and sat down by the well. A Samaritan woman came, alone, to draw water. She was, by every standard, an outcast of her society. Alone, in a foreign country, of “ill repute”. There she was, trying not to be seen when she encounters a man. And not just a man--a Jewish man. For his part, Jesus did the unthinkable: he spoke to her. “Give me a drink”, he asked. And this prompted a conversation of gentle listening and honest questions which would lead her to encounter Jesus as Messiah, and to leave her precious water jar to go and tell the townspeople what she had heard and seen. Through her words, they, in turn, came to see and believe for themselves.

“Give me a drink”, said Jesus. Of the many surprises in this story, perhaps the most startling is that it was Jesus who asked for a drink of water.[1] An antiphon from Orthodox vespers captures this well:

Jesus met the Samaritan woman at Jacob’s well.
The One who covers the earth with clouds
asks water of her.
Oh! What a wonder!...

Jesus was willing to become vulnerable and to break every taboo so that a conversation with this woman could happen. But it quickly turns as Jesus speaks of giving her “living water”:
“Everyone who drinks of this water will be thirsty again,
but those who drink of the water that I will give will never
be thirsty...”

Now Jesus and the woman have found common ground. They are both thirsty. Jesus’ human thirst would echo again from the cross with the words, “I thirst”. But his thirst goes deeper. It is a thirst for peace--shalom. The woman also thirsts--for dignity, for respect, for a purpose in life. Suddenly there is something she can do for him. This, too, reminds us of Jesus’ words,
“And whoever gives a cup of cold water to one of
these little ones in the name of a disciple--truly I
tell you none of these will lose their reward.” (Matt. 10:42)

Here is a wonderful exchange! The woman gives Jesus a cup of cold water and he offers the “living water” of eternal life.

When the disciples returned, they must have been scandalized to see Jesus speaking with a Samaritan woman. Yet, this is the example he is giving them of the very ministry to which he is calling them: to listen across all boundaries and taboos, and to allow others--perhaps the least likely others--to minister to them, too. The woman runs away, leaving her water jar behind. She doesn’t need it any more, for the spring of living water is welling up inside her, just as Jesus said.

We, too, thirst for “living water”. Not the water of the grumbling Israelites in the desert, but the “living water” which we find in Jesus. This story was used by the Early Church to prepare candidates for baptism--and for good reason. Baptisms were done in “living water”--running water. In baptism we are reborn to new life in Christ. But it does not stop there! It is the water of Jesus’ gift of eternal life. But what does this encounter at the well--and Jesus’ gift of “living water” have for us?


Perhaps if we were to approach others as Jesus did we would find the world and the Church less divided. Perhaps we could find the common ground of our thirst--our real thirst--and then ask Jesus to give us the “living water” that wells up inside us.

As we continue toward Holy Week, let us remember that this story moves us, with those preparing for baptism, toward the “living water”. It also moves us to remember Jesus’ death and resurrection. Let us remember that Jesus still thirsts today, and let us see ourselves as that Samaritan woman. For we come here to Evensong month after month to drink of this well.

But Jesus comes here, too, and asks us for a drink.
Are we ready to give Jesus a cup of cold water?
To talk with him?
To listen to him?
To reveal our brokenness to him?
To make our full commitment to him?
To go and tell others about him so that they, too, might believe that
“[Jesus] is truly the Savior of the world”? (Jn. 4:42)

If we are, then we will be ready to hear the invitation from the Revelation to John:
The Spirit and the bride say,
“Come.”
And let everyone who hears say,
“Come.”
And let everyone who is
thirsty come.
Let anyone who wishes
take the water of life as a gift. (Rev. 22:17)

Receive a drink from Jesus--the “living water that...will become.. a spring of water gushing up to eternal life” (Jn. 4:14)

[1] the Rev. Kirk Alan Kubicek, sermon for Yr. A Lent 3 found on the website Used with permission.