Candlemas

CANDLEMAS

Luke 2:22-40

Throughout the liturgical year there are some hymns which seem to draw together all that I hold dear in biblical imagery and incarnational theology. Hail to the Lord who comes is one of those hymns. This hymn helps me make an immediate connection between the Gospel scene of the presentation and my own life. Sometimes I need those connections to be very obvious.

Hail to the Lord who comes,
Comes to the temple gate,
Not with his angel hosts,
Nor in his kingly state;

But borne upon the throne
Of Mary’s gentle breast;
Thus to his father’s house
He comes, a humble guest.

The world’s true light draws near
All darkness to dispel,
The flame of faith is lit
And dies the power of hell.

Our bodies and our souls
Are temples now for him,
For we are born of grace –
God lights our souls within.

O Light of all the earth!
We light our lives with thee;
The chains of darkness gone
All sons of God are free. 

The hymn opens with a scene that is fairly easy to picture: Mary and Joseph, a little travel weary, come in faithfulness to the Temple, clutching their precious child. I imagine them standing on the Temple threshold, breathing in the sacred. They are filled with that awe that we have all experienced when we enter a sacred place. I imagine Joseph holding the offering tight and Mary holding Jesus tight. The gift in Joseph’s hands represents the love and longing of every faithful Jew to fulfill the Torah. The gift in Mary’s hand represents the love and longing of everyone who looked forward to the coming of the Saviour.

Can we see ourselves in the scene? Can we picture our hands open with all that we hold precious?

The world’s true light draws near
All darkness to dispel

The promise of this light draws Simeon and Anna near. They have walked towards this light all their lives. Each prayer, each small act of kindness, each fulfilling of the Torah has made space inside them to recognise and receive the light. And there they stand, bathed in that light. God’s promises have come full circle.

Our bodies and our souls
Are temples now for him,

These are the lines that touch me most from this hymn. They speak of wholeness and the goodness of every created thing. Read alongside the Gospel text they invite each one of us to be that Temple. We build the Temple out of the many fragments of our lives. It’s incarnational. It’s messy. But the promise is there that we are ‘born of grace’ and God ‘lights our souls within’. We were carried once, a precious bundle held tight. Our parents made an offering of all they held dear when they brought us to church for Baptism. God’s light has always been within us.

We light our lives with thee;
The chains of darkness gone
All sons of God are free. 

In these days of darkness and uncertainty we might look outside ourselves for light. In fact, the light we seek is already within us. We often glimpse it in others first. Today’s feast is an invitation to celebrate the light within each one of us.

How is God calling you to celebrate the light this Candlemas?

Second Sunday in Ordinary Time

John 2:1-11

Though our liturgical calendar tells us that we are now beginning the second week in Ordinary Time, there are remnants of Epiphany in our liturgy. The celebration of the coming of the Magi, the Baptism of Jesus and the Wedding at Cana are all connected. They are all seen in Greek as Epiphanes ( Ἐπιφανής), meaning ‘manifest’. In three different, but connected ways, we see the glory of God made manifest.

I always have a sense at the beginning of Ordinary Time that I need to gird my biblical loins and attend to the Scripture that will be laid before me. Today’s story of the Wedding at Cana helps me enter Ordinary Time with a sense of awe and mystery. John’s Gospel lays out for us golden threads for us to follow.

Malcolm Guite weaves together here John’s golden threads and the ordinary stuff of our lives:


EPIPHANY AT CANA
Here’s an epiphany to have and hold,
A truth that you can taste upon the tongue,
No distant shrines and canopies of gold
Or ladders to be clambered rung by rung,
But here and now, amidst your daily living,
Where you can taste and touch and feel and see,
The spring of love, the fount of all forgiving,
Flows when you need it, rich, abundant, free.

Better than waters of some outer weeping,
That leave you still with all your hidden sin,
Here is a vintage richer for the keeping
That works its transformation from within.
‘What price?’ you ask me, as we raise the glass,
‘It cost our Saviour everything he has.’

Look back over the week. Have you seen water turned to wine?
Where have you sensed ‘the spring of love, the fount of all forgiving’ ?

Baptism of the Lord

Beginning here we glimpse the Three-in-one;
The river runs, the clouds are torn apart,
The Father speaks, the Sprit and the Son
Reveal to us the single loving heart
That beats behind the being of all things
And calls and keeps and kindles us to light.
The dove descends, the spirit soars and sings
‘You are belovèd, you are my delight!’

In that quick light and life, as water spills
And streams around the Man like quickening rain,
The voice that made the universe reveals
The God in Man who makes it new again.
He calls us too, to step into that river
To die and rise and live and love forever.

Malcolm Guite

‘He calls us too, to step into that river,
To die and rise and live and love forever.’

It’s helpful to have this feast at the beginning of a new year. Beginning a new year is like stepping into the river.

Perhaps you have already had experiences of dying and rising this week? As a new week begins there will be invitations to live and love.

However the week unfolds, God is there assuring us ‘You are beloved, you are my delight.’

Mary, the Mother of God

In the Desert Tradition, the men and women who fled to the physical margins of society, developed a very particular relationship with Scripture and particularly with Biblical characters. They were judged by the Master to have understood the Scriptures in so far as they embodied the virtues of the Biblical characters.

This teaching came to mind today as I listened to the Gospel. When I ask myself how can I embody Mary’s virtues, I am brought back to this verse:

As for Mary she treasured all of these things and pondered them in her heart.

In the regular rhythm of monastic life I am invited to treasure and to ponder many things. Silence provides the seed ground for this to happen. It’s always an invitation. I imagine Mary as someone who had always been closely attuned to the many ways in which God speaks. I imagine that the Psalms and Prophetic books had sunk into her bones. She knew what to treasure.

How is God calling you to treasure and to ponder as this new year begins?

Seventh Day within the Octave of Christmas

John 1:1-18

By the time we reach the Seventh day of the Christmas Octave my heart and my mind have been invited to move in so many different directions. It is quite a challenge. So today I value the familiarity of the Prologue of John’s Gospel. The rhythm and the repetition of the words still me in a way that I can’t quite explain.

In trying to choose an image to reflect the profundity of the text I was drawn back again and again to the verse which always stands out for me:

The Word was made flesh, he lived among us,
and we saw his glory, the glory that is his
as the only Son of the Father, full of grace and truth.

It’s the idea of Jesus living among us that always speaks to me. I like to think of him doing normal things, learning crafts from his mother and father. In his ordinary life those around him see his glory.

Where have you seen glory during this Christmas Octave?

Sixth Day within the Octave of Christmas

Luke 2:36-40

I have always loved the prophetess Anna. There is an air of mystery about her as I try to imagine what it would mean to never leave the Temple. Anna has a single focus: she’s there to serve God until her last breath. She stands in a tradition of men and women whose whole lives are given over to the single-hearted service of God. Anna’s heart and mind must have been finely tuned to the things of God.

Maria Boulding’s description of the chosen people in her book, The Coming of God, expresses something of how I imagine Anna:

‘The chosen people were created to be a centre of attunement, receptivity and expectation, a place of felt need and desire. They were to listen to God’s word, to long for him, and to be the womb-community which would bring forth the One who was to come.’

Who are the Annas in your own life?
How is God calling you to listen to his Word and to long for him?

Feast of the Holy Family

Luke 2:41-52

There are a myriad of biblical threads which could be traced in today’s Liturgy of the Word: blessing, promise, mutual obedience in family life, faithfulness to the Law, joy and sorrow. Add to that the opening Collect and the other prayers of the Mass and the picture which emerges is something a little more complicated than the name of the feast suggests.

While it’s possible to weave together a very pious set of ideals about family life from liturgy and tradition, I like to see today’s feast as a time to acknowledge the joys and sorrows of living in relationship with others. We are made for connection, however fragile that may feel. In family life or community life you have to take the rough with the smooth. God uses it all.

I take courage today from the last lines of the Gospel; ‘His mother stored up all these things in her heart.’ This is one of the invitations of today’s feast: store up the moments of grace and insight. God will use it.

Christ is Here

Christ is here, Emmanuel!
Majesty so mild:
Wisdom dwells with grace and truth,
Hidden in this child.

Here is God’s eternal Son,
Now to us made known,
By the Spirit’s love conceived,
Mary’s flesh his own.

Born of God’s creative will,
Christ is Light from Light,
Come to rescue Adam’s sons,
Waiting in the night.

Father, Son and Spirit blest:
Heav’n their glory sings,
While the earth with mighty voice
Praise and Worship brings.

Stanbrook Abbey

This beautiful hymn says everything I want to say about the mystery of Jesus born for us at Bethlehem. May Jesus reveal himself to you today in every moment of grace and truth. Happy Christmas!

Advent Alphabet (Z)

We have journeyed throughout Advent with the people of Israel. We have followed their joys and sorrows. With them we have held fast to the promise that out of desolation God will bring hope and joy. We have attuned our ears to God’s word. We have listened to words of comfort and of challenge.

In a series of uncompromising prophecies Zephaniah holds Israel to account and warns of the destruction of Jerusalem. As with all prophetic literature you have to take the rough with the smooth. Alongside the warnings there is hope for a small group of faithful people:

Seek the Lord all you humble of the land,
who have observed his law.
Seek justice, seek humility.

A time of rejoicing is drawing near and Zephaniah uses the metaphor of Jerusalem as a daughter, who is called upon to rejoice:

Sing aloud,
O daughter of ZION;
shout, O Israel!
Rejoice and exult
with all your heart,
O daughter of Jerusalem!

In some of the most vibrant and beautiful imagery in prophetic literature Zephaniah tells us of the depth of God’s joy over the daughter of Zion:

He will exult over you,
he will renew you by his love:
he will dance with shouts of joy for you
as on day of festival.

We probably don’t spend enough time imagining God exulting over us and dancing with joy for us. This same joy and delight lies at the heart of the Incarnation. Whatever the joys and sorrows you have experienced this Advent, tonight we gather to celebrate the power of light and love in God’s gift of Jesus to our world.

How have you been renewed in God’s love on this Advent journey?

(Zephaniah 3:14-18, Sunday 3, Year A)

O Emmanuel

Malachi 3:1-4, 23-24
Luke 1:57-66

Liturgy of the Word

O Emmanuel, king and lawgiver
desire of the nations,
Saviour of all people.
Come and set us free, Lord our God.

O Emmanuel

O come, O come, and be our God-with-us
O long-sought With-ness for a world without,
O secret seed, O hidden spring of light.
Come to us Wisdom, come unspoken Name
Come Root, and Key, and King, and holy Flame,
O quickened little wick so tightly curled,
Be folded with us into time and place,
Unfold for us the mystery of grace
And make a womb of all this wounded world.
O heart of heaven beating in the earth,
O tiny hope within our hopelessness
Come to be born, to bear us to our birth,
To touch a dying world with new-made hands
And make these rags of time our swaddling bands.

Malcolm Guite

Listen to Malcolm Guite read his sonnet: