In Luke’s Gospel, the Holy Spirit starts her work through a few chosen people. It’s easy to envy these people their clarity – of course Simeon could be faithful when the Spirit was directing him! – but that same Spirit is filling and guiding us now.

Vicar Jessica Christy
Presentation of Our Lord
Text: Luke 2:22-40

I wonder if Simeon woke up that morning knowing that the day had finally come. When the Holy Spirit tapped him on the shoulder and said, “Now, today is the day,” what was that like? Was it a voice? A vision? A sensation in his bones? What does it feel like to be grabbed by the Spirit?

Because Luke tells us that the Spirit had a special role in Simeon’s life. Not just that, he says it three times in a row: the Spirit rests on Simeon, she reveals to him that he will see the messiah in his lifetime, and when the time comes, she guides his steps to the temple. Simeon has been eagerly waiting for the Christ, but he has been living with the Holy Spirit for a long time. Because of the Spirit, he can live in the marvelous hope that he will witness God’s salvation. Through the Spirit’s eyes, he can see that a poor young couple is God’s chosen family, and that their ordinary baby will deliver his people. And it could only be the movement of the Spirit that builds such instant trust between Mary and Simeon, that she places her newborn into the arms of a stranger. The Spirit transforms his life, his sight, his relationships. Because the Spirit is upon him, Simeon can see God’s reality shining through the surface of the world around him, and that changes everything.

But what the Spirit reveals to Simeon isn’t entirely joy and light. He sees that the arc of this baby’s life isn’t going to be an easy one. He blesses the little family, and then he confirms what Mary already knows: her child is going to bring turmoil into this world. Mighty people are going to be brought low, and lowly people are going to be lifted up. Jesus is going to reveal things that the world would rather keep hidden, and so people are going to resist him, resent him. None of this is news, but then Simeon goes farther. He tells Mary that this turmoil is going to touch her. A sword is going to pierce her soul. This precious, promised baby is going to bring her unimaginable pain. Simeon has seen God’s salvation, and yet he knows that the world isn’t quite saved. Not yet.

This could be reason for mourning or fear, and yet Simeon rejoices, because by the Spirit, he sees through the pain to what lies beyond. There’s going to be hurt and confusion, but out of those wounds will come God’s salvation. He isn’t going to see God’s plan fulfilled, but he’s seen its beginning, and he knows how it will end: with the glory of Israel, the illumination of the whole world, and the healing of the nations. Whatever conflict is coming, the Spirit has shown him that conflict will not have the last word, and so he can depart in peace.

I envy Simeon’s clarity. He’s righteous, and patient, and so full of hope. God has given him this amazing gift of experiencing life under the Spirit’s guidance. Not only does he get to see Christ, but he knows that he’s seeing Christ, and he knows exactly what Christ represents. He’s given such perfect insight into God’s plan, and he fulfills his role so faithfully. And it’s a beautiful story, but it’s a hard one to live up to. Simeon feels like one of those untouchable saints. Yes, of course he knows what to do – the Holy Spirit is giving him personal instructions. Where does that leave the rest of us who are waiting and hoping to see Christ? Because in this fallen world, God’s will for us isn’t always so obvious. We don’t always recognize Christ’s presence, or respond when the Spirit is pushing us to get up and go. When we see all the disorder and ill-will around us, we might falter in our hope that we will ever witness God’s salvation. Not all of us will be able to face death with such certainty or such joy. So what does Simeon’s clear vision have to do with all of us who still see God through a mirror, dimly?

But the good news is that Simeon’s gift isn’t anything special. He might look exceptional, but that’s not the story that Luke tells. Throughout Luke’s Gospel, the Holy Spirit is hard at work transforming the world – and she does start with certain chosen individuals. She fills Mary and John the Baptist. She leads Simeon to the temple. She greets Jesus at his baptism, guides him through the wilderness, and enlivens his teaching. But then, at Pentecost, everything changes. The promise that God made to the prophet Joel is fulfilled: “I will pour out my Spirit upon all flesh.” Tongues of fire appear over the apostles, and through them, the Spirit fills the assembled crowd. And from there, she spreads like wildfire. When Peter is speaking to a group of Gentiles in Caesarea, she falls on everyone who hears the word. The circumcised believers are astounded by this, but Peter asks them, “Can anyone withhold the water for baptizing these people who have received the Holy Spirit just as we have?” The Holy Spirit is setting the whole world ablaze, and nothing is going to stand in her way.

That same Spirit is in us now. We might not experience that in the same way as Simeon, but our gift is no less than his gift, and we are just as empowered to see this world through Spirit-filled eyes. Like Simeon, we can see through this world’s appearances to recognize God within. Where the world shows us despair, the Spirit shows us hope. Where the world shows us strangers, the Spirit shows us beloved siblings. Where the world shows us the least of these, the Spirit shows us Christ. And where the world shows us death, the Spirit shows us abundant new life. We’re still waiting for God’s plan to be fulfilled, but like Simeon, we know how this story ends. We know that peace and life and love win. That’s not what our senses tell us. That’s not what politics or science or even common sense say, but it’s what our faith tells us, and by the Spirit, we can believe that it’s really true. And that means that we get to carry that truth, that reality into the world.

Like the candles that we carried in tonight, we all bear the Spirit’s flame.  Even if we doubt, or falter, or fail to recognize God’s call, the Spirit has been given to each of us, and she will never leave us behind. Even now, she is filling us with the light of Christ for all the world to see. So with Simeon, we can proclaim: look, Christ is here. God is now healing the world. Come and see for yourself. Come and find God’s light. Come and find God’s peace.

Christ’s authority isn’t imposed or enforced: it is in his very being as God-with-us, the God who astonishingly and foolishly and improbably loves us beyond death.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Fourth Sunday after Epiphany, year B
Text: Mark 1:21-28

Sisters and brothers in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

“He commands even the unclean spirits, and they obey him. What authority!”

These good folks in Capernaum hear an authority in Jesus’ teaching they’ve never heard before. He spoke in their synagogue and they were astounded.

But then, when the unclean spirit possessing this man recognized the same authority, and obeyed Jesus, these people were amazed beyond description. They “kept on asking one another, ‘What is this?’” You can imagine the buzz, neighbor turning to neighbor, trying to comprehend this new authority they’re witnessing.

But notice they say, “He commands even the unclean spirits, and they obey him.” “Even” they obey. That implies others recognize Jesus’ authority, too, and are also obeying.

That doesn’t seem to be very common among Christians these days. Obedience isn’t a word we often use.

Do you remember the last time you obeyed someone?

Did something because someone told you to? We certainly tell children to obey lots of authorities, parents, teachers. Did we resent obeying so much when we were young that we don’t want to talk about it as adults? Even the law is disregarded by more and more. So many believe obedience is required only when there’s a risk of being caught in disobedience.

But it also seems rare to hear people in the church decide a course of action by saying simply, “this is what God commands, and we need to obey.” It certainly happens. Maybe many of us here have that as part of our decision-making. But to listen to the way Christians often deliberate, one might think obedience was the least of our concerns.

Maybe the problem is that we don’t permit anyone, not even God, to have ultimate authority over us. Because these people of Capernaum knew what they saw: it was Jesus’ authority, whatever that was, that the unclean spirits obeyed.

But do we like “authority” any better than “obedience”?

Does anyone have authority over your life? Anyone who’s word you must obey? Obviously if you work, your supervisor. But in your daily life?

Law and the government are institutions of authority we are privileged to create and change by election and citizen involvement. But they largely work as authority only because they can back their commands with threats of punishment. Even when we stand up to their authority on moral grounds, when the institutions act unjustly, or do evil, there is a good chance we’ll face punishment.

The Church used to be an authority, with temporal and eternal punishment as the threat. But in the last century many Christians have set aside the Church, whatever they mean by that, as ultimate authority over their actions. Centuries of abuse of that authority certainly contributed to this. But there’s also this modern idea that we each are our own authority, the buck stops with each of us and no one else, and no one can ultimately tell us what to do. That’s effectively ended the Church’s ability to act as authority in people’s lives.

And there’s still the question of God’s authority over us. Must God also step aside in the face of our self-interest, our desire to do what we want, our need to be who we are without change? Must God also be included among those whom we say cannot tell us what to do?

Of course, our answer should be no. As believers, we acknowledge the Triune God has authority over us.

But do we live that way?

It’s hard to separate the authority of God from the authority of the Church. For centuries we’ve been taught they were one and the same. Those in the Church who make pronouncements over people’s lives usually cloak them with God’s authority. So when people start rejecting the Church’s right to tell them what to do, God’s authority also gets left behind.

But Martin Luther taught us that each of us is given God’s Word in its written form, the Scriptures, that we might hear it ourselves, and follow God’s living Word, Christ Jesus our Savior.

The people of Capernaum heard, and were astounded, and agreed Jesus had authority. His authority over unclean spirits was recognized by those spirits and they obeyed him. This story suggests that the others at least were considering their own obedience to this new authority. Maybe we can start there, too.

Now, Mark significantly doesn’t describe Jesus’ authority by explaining his methods of teaching or his style.

That suggests Jesus’ authority came from inside him, not from his rhetoric or technique. Something he carried within himself that was evident when he spoke, when he read Scripture, when he declared God’s will for the people.

We know the rest of the story, so we know what was within him. Jesus was and is God-with-us, the Son of the Triune God in human flesh, who set aside all divine power and glory to become one of us, become family with us. The God who faced death on the cross, rose from the dead, and has begun a new life in the Spirit in all who believe and follow.

Jesus’ authority didn’t come from threats of violence and punishment, either. It also didn’t come from a legal status or a government position. It wasn’t imposed on others. Jesus’ authority was simply who he was. God-with-us, who loved humanity enough to come and be with us, even to the point of dying for love of us.

So Jesus’ authority is the authority of a forgiveness that rejection cannot stop. It is the authority of light that darkness cannot overcome. It is the authority of love that hatred cannot extinguish. It is the authority of life that death cannot destroy.

This is the authority who says, “Follow me.” Obey me.

Because that’s what “follow me” asks. In Christ we see the astonishing, improbable, foolish love of the Triune God for the whole creation, for each of us. That is Christ’s authority. And that authority now says, “Follow me.”

We know what we are asked to do, what obedience is desired. We know the commands. Love. Forgive. Trust God, not wealth or power. Set aside anger. Seek reconciliation. Care for those in need, don’t walk by on the other side. We’ve known what following means for a long time. What’s left for us today is the question of whether we’ll obey.

Maybe, like those unclean spirits, we needed the proper authority to inspire our obedience.

We’ve grown weary of institutions and people seeking to control us, make us do things, weary of such so-called authority.

But now that we see true authority in our midst, Christ’s authority, it’s a different question. Because if the Light that darkness cannot overcome is calling us to follow, when we obey, we’ll find ourselves walking in light, not in darkness. If the Love no hatred can extinguish is calling us to follow, when we obey, we’ll find ourselves bathed in love, shaped in love, not hate. If the Life no death can destroy is calling us to follow, when we obey, we’ll find life in a world that looks like death is winning.

You see, once you recognize the true authority of divine, undying love standing before you, you realize obedience is the path to joy and abundance of life, not a path of drudgery or fear.

This is truly a new teaching, what Jesus offers, with authority. Even unclean spirits obey. What will we do?

In the name of Jesus.  Amen

 

Listen: Christ is calling you, calling me, to follow, and our lives will be changed. That will be our witness. That will be the sign that God is in the world in love and light and hope.

Pr. Joseph G. Crippen
The Third Sunday after Epiphany, year B
Texts: Mark 1:14-20; Jonah 3:1-5, 10

Sisters and brothers in Christ, grace to you, and peace in the name of the Father, and of the + Son, and of the Holy Spirit.  Amen

How many times had these four met Jesus before this, do you think?

It’s nearly impossible to believe this was their first encounter. A strange man, a teacher, walks up to them at their work, and says, “Follow me. I’ll teach you how to fish for people.” And off Simon and Andrew go. Then James and John, leaving Dad in the boat holding the nets.

John’s Gospel describes a previous encounter to this call. Andrew and John are disciples of the Baptizer, who points out Jesus as the Lamb of God. They start following Jesus, and Andrew runs to tell his brother Simon they’d found the Messiah.

Today’s story makes more sense if John’s story came first. Because if this is their first encounter, this is a stunningly spontaneous and even shocking thing these four men do.

It’s an important question, because it’s fair to ask how many times we’ve met Jesus, how often we’ve heard him, and whether when he calls we are ready to follow. Jonah today is easy to count: this is round two with God. Andrew and Simon, James and John, really early in their time with Jesus, drop everything to follow him. They utterly change their lives.

Why does that seem so foreign to us?

Maybe we’re a little awestruck by their changes, these Galileans and Jonah.

Jonah leaves house and home and, after running away, heads to the heart of the enemy to deliver God’s message. The four fishermen leave house and home, leave one of their fathers literally holding their business in his hands. These are dramatic life changes as a result of God’s call.

We like these kinds of stories. Some of us here have families who did the same thing: moved across the world in response to God’s call, uprooted home and family, went to strange islands or continents. These are inspiring stories.

But maybe we’re distracting ourselves from what’s important, focusing on such big-picture accounts. Most of us haven’t made changes in our lives remotely close to what our stories today tell, or what missionaries and their families can tell.

But if the only way Christ can call us to follow is by asking us to literally move our lives to another geography, then only a small number of Christ’s followers are actually called to follow.

That just doesn’t make any sense.

We’ve known Christ a long time. Some for over half a century or more.

How long do we have to know Christ before we start listening for our call to follow? Every day Christ comes to us in our home, at our work, with our hands in whatever it is we’re doing, and says, “Follow me. I’ll teach you how to fish for people.” This isn’t a call for others. It’s a call for you, for me.

We are called to reach people with God’s love in Christ, most of us – most of us – in our own worlds, homes, workplaces, not in faraway lands. But apart from the geography, our call is the same as any who packed their things and got on a boat or a plane. Once you’re where God needs you, whether Madagascar or Minnesota, the work’s the same.

We witness to God’s love in Christ by our lives that look like God’s love in the world. Created in the image of God, now in Christ the Spirit is shaping us to bear the likeness of God in the world. So our outside lives match our inside truth, our inner godliness.

Remember why God came to us in person: to make us like God, children of God.

To help us become in practice what we already are, images of God. Everything Jesus taught intends to help us find that likeness, to be like Jesus. Love as I have loved you. Forgive completely, as God forgives. Do to others what you would have them do to you. If your neighbor is hungry, feed her. If your neighbor is thirsty, give him a drink. Don’t let anger control you, but be reconciled with each other. Be careful not to look at people as objects. Don’t worry about food or drink, don’t seek wealth and riches, don’t trust in your own ability: put your lives in God’s hands.

We know all these teachings, and many more. Following Christ, dropping what we’re doing and heading up the beach with our God, is pretty simple. We just follow this way that’s summed up in love of God with all our being and love of neighbor as ourselves.

And let’s not fool ourselves: when we follow this path, walk in these teachings, everything will be changed.

Just try to do one of them every day, in every encounter, you’ll see. Just a month or so ago I was telling my spiritual director how frustrating it was to live in a self-giving way. I was trying to put my needs second to others, and in some circumstances, that meant that people were taking advantage of me. My mistake was trying to follow Christ as if that were a strategy: I’ll act this way, and then others will respond.

What he reminded me was that we don’t have a strategy when we follow Christ. Simon and Andrew, James and John, there was no master plan. They followed, and learned as they went. Jonah went with no plan. Letting go of my needs for the sake of the other, that’s the plan. Whether anyone responds in a way that I like is irrelevant. Follow me, Jesus said. Don’t worry about the rest.

When we follow this way, we are dramatically changed. When we decide we will no longer justify our unkindness or selfishness or lack of love by blaming others, or saying we can’t be anything other than we are, our lives are forever different, even if we never move. When we look at today, just today, as the day we try forgiving, loving, giving of ourselves, our lives are utterly changed.

Maybe people will notice. Maybe they won’t, at least at first. Over time, there will be a witness, in our changed natures, our softening and kindness. We will look more and more like the God who loved us into this new life, more and more reflect the divine image that is already in each of us.

And let’s not be discouraged by the seeming smallness of the light we’re asked to cast in the world.

These disciples we know and remember thousands of years later, they’re like bright torches. That’s why we remember their stories thousands of years later. Our sacrifices, our changed lives, the witness you and I make, these are candles in the dark, not blazing torches. But they are the light that is needed, and they are God’s grace for our world.

It doesn’t matter if we’re each the only ones who can see how our lives are changed. The point is being ready for the change, when God calls for it, and asking the Spirit for strength to follow through.

It will be the small candle of our changed lives, our grace, our forgiveness, that witnesses to Christ, fishes for people. It will be our changed nature when dealing with others, our kindness, our love when others are unloving, that will be the flicker of light and hope that tells others God has not abandoned this world.

Maybe we’ve waited long enough. Listen: Christ is calling. Will we follow, and be changed forever?

In the name of Jesus.  Amen