FOURTH SUNDAY AFTER THE EPIPHANY, YEAR B

January 27 / 28, 2024

Saint Mark’s Episcopal Church, Warwick, R. I.

 

Mark 1:21-28

 

The Gospel that we’ve just heard twice describes Jesus as having “authority.” First, in the synagogue at Capernaum, “they were astounded at his teaching, for he taught them as one having authority, and not as the scribes.” And second, after his expulsion of a demon, “all were amazed, and they kept on asking one another, “What is this? A new teaching—with authority!”

 

Many of the debates in today’s Church concern the nature and sources of authority. How do we weight the respective authorities of scripture, tradition, reason, and experience in determining how the Church should stand in relation to the moral and ethical challenges of the contemporary world? Where does authority reside in the Church, and who exercises it? How do we negotiate the potential conflict between external authorities such as the state and the internal authority of conscience?

 

But before we can tackle the big questions, we need to ask: What is authority? And it seems to me that we can distinguish different kinds of authority. 

The first is decision-making authority. At the Annual Meeting today, the members of the parish will elect vestry officers and members, as well as delegates to the Diocesan Convention. These are decisions that only an annual meeting normally has the authority to make. 

 

Canon law and church polity give authority for some decisions to the rector, and others to the vestry. For example, the vestry has authority over the parish budget and finances, and the rector has authority over the conduct of worship. Decision-making authority thus confers on its bearer the right to be recognized as the one who makes certain kinds of decisions in certain defined circumstances.

 

Another type of authority is teaching authority; and this comes closer to what today’s Gospel is talking about. In academic life, it’s sometimes said that a scholar is “an authority in her field.” What’s meant is that this particular scholar has not only mastered the field, but has also done such original research or come up with such profound insights, that she’s not just repeating and synthesizing what others have said before. She’s earned the right to be listened to when she speaks. 

 

Something like this form of authority is at work in today’s Gospel when the people are astonished because our Lord speaks as one having authority and not as the scribes. This implies that the scribes in question were more conservative; repeating what past authorities had said, and arranging them under topical headings, and sometimes laying out conflicting sayings of different rabbis, side-by-side without attempting to resolve the apparent contradictions. 

 

Our Lord’s approach is bolder and much more radical. In the Sermon on the Mount, he introduces a past teaching with the formula, “You have heard it said …” Then he goes on to quote the traditional saying, such as “an eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth.” Then he continues, “But I say to you …” and he gives his own new interpretation: “Do not resist one who is evil. If anyone strikes you on the right cheek, turn to him the other also …” In this way, he demonstrates that he speaks as one who has teaching authority.

 

A third type of authority might be called the authority of command. You’re driving your car, and you see flashing red and blue lights in your rear view mirror, so you pull over. This type of authority doesn’t propose ideas for us to consider; it issues orders for us to obey. The potential for the abuse of this kind of authority is such that we typically circumscribe it with all kinds of limitations and safeguards, to protect our individual rights. But only a moment’s reflection confirms that such commanding authority is necessary to the functioning of any group or organization, whether a business, school, city, state, or even church.

 

Sometimes we just need to be told what to do. In today’s Gospel our Lord exercises this type of authority over the demons: “He commands even the unclean spirits, and they obey him.”

 

So, we have three types of authority. The first type gives its bearer the right to make certain types of decisions. The second type gives its bearer the right to be listened to and taken seriously as an expert in a certain field of knowledge. And the third type gives its bearer the right to be heeded and obeyed on issuing certain types of directions, instructions, commands, or orders.

 

There is perhaps a fourth type, which operates in response to the first three, which we might call the authority of personal freedom and judgment. For even when we recognize someone’s right to make a decision, we don’t always have to agree with the decision. Even when we recognize someone as an authority in her field, we don’t have to believe everything she says. And even when we recognize someone’s authority to issue orders or give instructions, we always retain the right in extreme circumstances to disobey if conscience so requires. In other words, the recognition of legitimate authority does not take away our freedom and responsibility to decide how to respond to that authority.

 

The crowds were astonished because Jesus spoke not as the scribes but as one having authority. As the incarnate Son of God, Jesus is the ultimate embodiment of all authority. He’s the ultimate decision-making authority, because whatever he decides, happens. He’s the ultimate teaching authority because he not only speaks the truth but is the truth. And he’s the ultimate commanding authority, because he alone has the right to our unqualified loyalty and obedience. In other words, where all human authority is secondary and derivative, God’s authority alone is primary and original.

 

Yet authority is not to be confused with power. Authority legitimizes power but is not the same as power. An occupying army of an invaded country has plenty of power but little authority. Conversely, a figure like the King of England in a constitutional monarchy has little power but a great deal of authority. And Christ reigning as king from the Cross has no power but all authority. He thus reveals once and for all self-sacrificing love as the divine pattern of all true authority.

 

The crowds were astonished because Jesus spoke as one having authority. The Gospel does not tell us how they finally responded to the authority they experienced as present in their midst that day. They retained their freedom to decide. 

 

Likewise, the most important decision that you or I can ever make is how we shall respond to the living authority of God in Christ. He alone has the final authority to order our lives, teach us the truth, and direct us in the way that leads to eternal life – provided that we say yes, and believe, and follow him.

 

THIRD SUNDAY AFTER THE EPIPHANY

January 21, 2024

Saint Mark’s Episcopal Church, Warwick, R. I.

 

 

Jonah 3:1-4, 10; I Cor. 7:29-31; Mark 1:14-20

 

 

One of my favorite verses in all of Scripture is the one that we’ve just heard in the Gospel: “After John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee, preaching the good news of God and saying, ‘The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.’”

 

We’ve probably all heard many times that the word “gospel” comes from the old English word meaning “God’s message,” or “good news”—and this verse uses the word Greek word meaning “gospel” or “good news” not once but twice. 

 

The point is that any announcement from God is always good news! For God himself is infinitely good, all his works are good, and for us, his people, he desires only good.

 

Even the message from God that Jonah proclaimed to the people of Nineveh— “Forty days more, and Nineveh shall be overthrown!”—was in its own way good news and the promise of hope. Prophetic warnings of God’s judgment always contain within themselves the invitation to repent and return to the Lord, which is precisely what the people of Nineveh did in response to Jonah’s preaching.

 

Today’s readings remind us that God enlists human agents, like the prophet Jonah in the Old Testament, and the disciples Simon, Andrew, James, and John in the Gospel, in the work of proclaiming and sharing the Good News. As our Lord says to Simon and Andrew: “Follow me and I will make you fish for people.”

 

Furthermore, both the Good News itself and the call to share it are life-changing. In today’s Epistle reading from Saint Paul to the Corinthians, Saint Paul calls his readers to a complete reordering of priorities in the knowledge that the time is short and the form of this world is passing away. At the preaching of Jonah, the Ninevites repent of their evil ways with fasting and sackcloth. At the Lord’s call, the fishermen Simon, Andrew, James, and John drop everything, leaving their boats and their nets, their homes, occupations, and livelihoods, to follow him. Such is the power of the Good News. It’s a complete game-changer.

 

The Collect of the Day wonderfully sums up all these themes: “Give us grace, O Lord, to answer readily the call of our Savior Jesus Christ and proclaim to all people the Good News of his salvation, that we and all the whole world may perceive the glory of his marvelous works …” So, today’s Collect and readings together invite and challenge us to consider how we might be called to hear and share the Good News, not only as individuals, but also in our families, communities, and, not least, in this parish church.

 

For the Good News is not only about the great things that God has done in the past—creating the universe out of nothing, reconciling a fallen world to himself in the incarnation, life, death, resurrection, and ascension of his Son our Lord Jesus Christ, and giving us the hope of eternal life and glory in the world to come. Sunday by Sunday, and day by day, the Church throughout the world celebrates these mysteries of faith until the Lord returns.

 

But the Good News is also about what God is doing here and now, in this place, and in this community. So, here’s something to think about in the coming days: If someone were to ask you to share the Good News of what God has been doing here at St. Mark’s, Warwick, Rhode Island, how would you answer?

 

Well, having been here among you nearly three months now, I think I can offer one or two observations that I hope will be helpful. First, rest assured that God has been doing, and he will continue to do, wonderful things in your midst. Hold on to that assurance, and don’t let it go.

 

In June, you bade farewell to your beloved rector of fourteen years, Mother Susan, and many here are still grieving her departure. That’s normal and to be expected. Fourteen years is a long time. The average tenure of a rector in the Episcopal Church today is six years. So this parish has been blessed.

 

The interim period between rectors can be unsettling and maybe even a little scary, but it also contains exciting possibilities. During this time of transition we all have the opportunity to reflect at length on the questions that I’ve just posed. What wonderful things has God been doing in our midst? What unique gifts has God distributed among us? And how might we be called now, and in the coming years, to develop and share those gifts? By seeking the answers to these questions, we open ourselves to receiving the grace to proclaim the Good News of God’s salvation so that that all the world may perceive the glory of his marvelous works.

That may seem a tall order, and it probably is. But don’t worry. There’s still plenty of time in the coming few months to consider, pray over, discuss, and come to new insights on these questions. So, be not afraid.

 

What I will say now, however, is that it’s crucial not only to ask the right questions, but also to ask them in the right order. The questions that we naturally want to be asking first are: What do we need to do to help this parish survive, grow, and prosper in the years to come? And what kind of new rector do we want to help us make that happen? 

 

Valid and important as those questions are, the problem is that they’re all about us. And the questions of top priority really need to be about God. Not what do we want, but what does God want for Saint Mark’s? What kind of parish is God calling Saint Mark’s to be? And how might God want to use Saint Mark’s to serve his purposes and further his mission in the world? Seek the answers to those questions first, and the rest will fall into place. God will be with us, and in his own good time he’ll reveal the way forward and send the right person to be this parish’s next rector. And that, I believe, is the good news that I’ve been called to share with you today.

 

SECOND SUNDAY AFTER THE EPIPHANY

Saturday, January 13, 2024 (5pm)

Saint Mark’s Episcopal Church, Warwick, R. I.

 

I Samuel 3:1-10 (11-20) 

Psalm 135:1-5; 12-17 

John 1:43-51

 

This season after the Epiphany focuses our attention on the manifestations of God’s light in the world, culminating in the revelation of Jesus Christ as the Light Incarnate. And today’s readings emphasize that these epiphanies often take the form of God’s call  addressed to specific individuals.

 

We may notice some striking parallels between the stories of the calling of the boy Samuel in the Old Testament, and the calling of Nathanael in the Gospel. For one thing, both recipients initially misunderstand what they’re hearing.

 

When Samuel is lying down to sleep in the Temple, the voice of the Lord calls to him, “Samuel, Samuel.” He initially thinks it’s the priest Eli, to whom he goes and says, “Here I am, for you called me.” But Eli answers, “No, I didn’t; go back to bed.” After three times, Eli realizes what’s happening, and instructs Samuel, “If he calls you again, just answer this: ‘Speak Lord, for your servant is listening.’”

In a parallel way, at the beginning of St. John’s Gospel, Philip finds Nathanael and tells him, “We have found him about whom Moses and the prophets wrote—Jesus the son of Joseph from Nazareth.” But neither understanding nor believing what Philip is telling him, Nathanael responds dismissively: “Can anything good come out of Nazareth?” Philip wisely doesn’t try to argue the point but instead simply issues the invitation, “Come and see”—much as Eli had simply instructed Samuel to listen to what the Lord had to say.

 

So, just as Eli helped prepare Samuel to meet the Lord, so Philip helps prepare Nathanael to meet the Lord. And in both cases the encounter is life‑changing. Samuel enters upon his vocation as a prophet; Nathanael enters upon his vocation as a disciple. Some Church traditions identify Nathanael as St. Bartholomew, one of the Twelve Apostles. And all because Nathanael was willing to take up the invitation to “Come and see,” just as Samuel was willing to say, “Speak Lord, for your servant is listening.” 

 

Taken together, these readings invite us to adopt a posture of openness and receptivity to whatever God wants to say to us now. Sometimes we need the assistance of a trusted advisor, guide, or mentor—as Eli was for Samuel, as Philip was for Nathanael. But most of all, we need to take the time to slow down, put aside our preoccupations and worries, and then say and mean the words, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.”

 

This posture is more important than ever amidst the current political divisions in our nation. Confronted with people saying outrageous things, it’s all too easy to get caught up in the emotions of the moment in ways that can be harmful to our souls’ health, never mind the feelings and sensibilities of those around us. I’m not suggesting for one moment that we should overlook or condone public wrongdoing. But when I find myself getting upset or worked up about something I’ve seen on television or read online, I’ve found it helpful—at least when I have the presence of mind to remember to do this—to sit back, take a deep breath, and say to Jesus, “Lord, please help me to see all this from your point of view. Please help me understand what your love requires of me in this moment.” 

 

Then, having prayed such a prayer, take the time to be quiet and listen to whatever he might say in response. In this way, we gradually learn to respond in a Christian way to what’s going on around us, rather than getting swept along in the prevailing ideological currents of either the Right or the Left.

 

In 1939, the spiritual writer Evelyn Underhill told the story of a pastor in the Confessing Church in Germany facing arrest, trial, and imprisonment for his outspoken resistance to Hitler and the Nazi regime. (I don’t know for sure, but I believe she was referring to Martin Niemoller, who’d served as a U-Boat captain in the First World War.) In any case, this pastor remarked: “While on the ocean’s surface it’s stormy and dangerous, still, three fathoms down it’s quite calm.” He was of course using this submarine metaphor to describe that place of inner stillness and silence where he encountered God and God’s peace—not as a form of spiritual escapism, but precisely to be able to resurface with renewed strength and conviction to continue the struggle.

 

If we take the time to practice this type of inner listening in moments of outward stress and crisis, then, who knows, we may find ourselves called to some new form of creative discipleship as agents of God’s love, reconciliation, and healing in a divided and suffering world. We may not know in advance what form that call will take, but the good news is that God knows!

 

Nathanael discovered on approaching Jesus that Jesus already knew him. “Here is truly an Israelite in whom there is no deceit.” “Where did you come to know me?” “I saw you under the fig tree before Philip called you.” Whatever this mysterious exchange actually means—and generations of biblical scholars have spilled gallons of ink trying to figure it out—Nathanael realizes that Jesus knows him as only God can. And so, finally brought to the moment of surrender, he confesses, “Rabbi, you are the Son of God, you are the King of Israel!”

 

A basic tenet of Christian teaching is that God is closer to us than we are even to ourselves, so he knows us better than we can ever know ourselves. As the Psalm that we’ve prayed together puts it: “Lord, you have searched me out and known me; you know my sitting down and my rising up; you discern my thoughts from afar. You trace my journeys and my resting places, and are acquainted with all my ways. Indeed, there is not a word on my lips, but you, O Lord, know it altogether.” I can’t help but imagine these verses running through Nathanael’s head when Jesus says to him, “I saw you under the fig tree before Philip called you.”

 

Secure, then, in the assurance that God already knows us, with all our strengths, weaknesses, achievements, failures, opportunities, and challenges before we ever try to know him—and that he’s already called us, long before it even even occurs to us to call out to him—we gain the courage to say, with Samuel, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.” And then we stand ready, by God’s grace and strength, to do whatever he may ask of us next.

FIRST SUNDAY AFTER THE EPIPHANY, YEAR B

January 7, 2024

Saint Mark’s Episcopal Church, Warwick, R. I.

 

Genesis 1:1-5 

Psalm 29

Acts 19:1-7

Mark 1:4-11

 

Today’s readings combine to convey the message that Christ’s baptism in the River Jordan signals the beginning of a new creation. The Holy Spirit descending in the form of a dove as Jesus emerges from the waters evokes the mysterious image from Genesis of that same Spirit—the ruach, wind, or breath of God—moving over the primordial waters in the beginning of the old creation. By submitting to John’s baptism of repentance, Jesus, the sinless one, identifies himself with our fallen humanity, subject to sin and death, so that, incorporated by our baptism into his renewed humanity, we may rise with him to eternal life in God’s new creation.

 

And notice that in both the old creation and the new creation, God speaks. Not only is something done, but something is said. “In the beginning, God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light.” 

 

Psalm 29 echoes this divine speech in the wonderful poetic imagery of a thunderstorm coming in from the sea over the forests and mountains: “The voice of the Lord is upon the waters; the God of glory thunders; the Lord is upon the mighty waters.” The psalm uses the phrase “the voice of the Lord” no fewer than seven times: “the voice of the Lord is a powerful voice … a voice of splendor”, which “breaks the cedar trees …”, which “makes the oak trees writhe … [and which] strips the forest bare.” At the Baptism, however, this same voice speaks words of loving affirmation and approval: “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.”

 

Commenting on Christ’s baptism, the fourth-century Church Father Gregory of Nazianzus writes of the Spirit descending and the voice from heaven as divine witnesses: “The Spirit comes to him as an equal, bearing witness to his Godhead. A voice bears witness to him from heaven, his place of origin.” At Christ’s Baptism, then, God bears witness to God! The First and Third Persons of the Holy Trinity bear witness to the Second Person, now incarnate in Jesus of Nazareth. Just as in the beginning God said, “Let there be light,” so now the Father acclaims his Son as the Light of the world.

At our baptism, we’ve similarly been committed to bearing witness to Christ. In the words of today’s Collect: “Father in heaven, who at the baptism of Jesus in the River Jordan proclaimed him your beloved Son and anointed him with the Holy Spirit: Grant that all who are baptized into his Name may keep the covenant they have made, and boldly confess him as Lord and Savior …”

 

Two of our baptismal promises take this form: Question: Do you turn to Jesus Christ and accept him as your Savior? Answer: I do. Question: Do you promise to follow and obey him as your Lord? Answer: I do. Then, in the Baptismal Covenant, there follows: Question: Will you proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ? Answer: I will with God’s help.

 

“By word and example.” Notice again the combination of something done and something said. A certain saying is sometimes misattributed to Saint Francis of Assisi: “Preach the Gospel at all times; when necessary, use words.” I hope it doesn’t come as too much of a disappointment to be told that he never really said that. The things he did say had more to do with the preacher’s need to conform his life to his words in order to be credible—which in St. Francis’s case was certainly true as one of the greatest preachers and holiest saints of the Christian tradition.

The point is simply that in fulfilling our baptismal promises, good deeds by themselves aren’t enough. Today’s readings invite us to consider the very personal question of what more we might be doing in our own lives to “proclaim by word and example the Good News of God in Christ,” and “boldly confess him as Lord and Savior.”

 

I will be the first to acknowledge that this is easier said than done! We live in a society that doesn’t really encourage public professions of faith; and the culture of our own beloved Episcopal Church sometimes tends to be a bit reticent and reserved about discussing spiritual matters. After all, they’re very personal, and we don’t want to subject our most cherished beliefs, feelings, and experiences to misunderstanding and ridicule. That’s all very understandable.

 

Look, by contrast, at the example of the disciples whom Saint Paul encounters in Ephesus in today’s reading from Acts. When he asks them into what they were baptized, they reply, “John’s baptism.” But as John the Baptist himself says in today’s Gospel, “I have baptized you with water, but the one coming after me will baptize you with the Holy Spirit.” So, when Paul baptizes and lays hands on these Ephesians in the Name of Jesus, the Holy Spirit comes upon them powerfully so that they prophesy and speak in tongues.

Now, not all Christians are called to speak in tongues and engage in what used to be called “religious enthusiasm.” (I love that phrase!) On the other hand, some are called to such spiritual expressions, and it’s not our place to judge them. Part of the richness of life in the Body of Christ is the diversity of gifts to be found in the various parts of the Church. 

 

The deeper point is that those disciples at Ephesus received the grace to proclaim Christ in their own time, in their own way. And we’ve also received the grace to proclaim Christ in our own time, in our own way. At our baptism we received the same Holy Spirit who descended upon Jesus at his baptism in the River Jordan, and who came upon those Ephesian disciples at their baptism at the hands of Saint Paul the Apostle. 

 

The grace of our baptism is itself what empowers us to fulfill our baptismal promises. We need only ask God to stir up the Spirit’s gifts within us; then we’ll be given the right words to say in precisely those moments when we really need to say them. In this way, God equips us to keep the covenant we have made, and boldly confess Christ as Lord and Savior. 

FIRST SUNDAY AFTER CHRISTMAS

December 31, 2023

Saint Mark’s Episcopal Church, Warwick, R. I.

 

Isaiah 61:10-62:3

Psalm 147:13-24

John 1:1-18

 

Ten days ago, on December 21, we marked the winter solstice, the shortest day of the year. Between now and the Spring Equinox on March 19, we can expect the worst of the winter cold even as the days begin to lengthen again. (Although this season has been mild so far.) And a theme running through the readings appointed for this first Sunday after Christmas Day is the light and warmth that Christ brings us, illuminating the world with his glory, dispelling the darkness of sin and death.

 

It’s no accident that today’s reading from the Prophet Isaiah employs springtime imagery to anticipate the Lord’s arrival: “For as the earth brings forth its shoots, and as a garden causes what is sown in it to spring up, so the Lord God will cause righteousness and praise to spring up before all the nations.” Then the prophet switches to the image of light driving out darkness: “For Zion's sake I will not keep silent, and for Jerusalem's sake I will not rest until her vindication shines out like the dawn, and her salvation like a burning torch.”

 

The verses of Psalm 147 that we’ve just prayed together describe a freezing winter storm: “[God] gives snow like wool; he scatters hoarfrost like ashes. He scatters his hail like breadcrumbs; Who can stand against his cold?” But then, in the immediately following verse, comes the springtime thaw: “He sends forth his word and melts them; he blows with his wind and the waters flow.”

 

The Church’s tradition reads such a psalm as depicting not only meteorological but also spiritual realities. God’s word is capable of thawing not only a frozen landscape but also our frozen hearts. Moreover, this image of God blowing with his wind so that the waters flow calls to mind the breath of the Holy Spirit and the waters of Baptism.

 

Today’s Gospel sums up all these images in its description of the Incarnation of the Divine Word, the eternal Son of the Father, whose life is the light of all people: “The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it. … The true light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world.”

 

In the children’s story, The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe—a spiritual classic which I recommend highly to readers of all ages—C. S. Lewis deploys the metaphor of winter to portray a fallen world. The alternate-reality land of Narnia, accessed by a group of school children through a magic wardrobe, lies frozen under a curse, blanketed by snow. So, as Lewis puts it, it’s always winter, and Christmas never comes.

 

But when the lion Aslan, the story’s Christ-figure, arrives in Narnia, the snowing ceases, the ice begins to melt, shoots of plants and flowers start poking through the ground, the leaves on the trees begin to bud, and, to cap it all off, Santa Claus arrives with his reindeer and sleigh to distribute gifts to one and all. (Of course, as a British writer of a certain generation, Lewis calls him not Santa Claus but Father Christmas.) Aslan’s arrival in Narnia wonderfully symbolizes Christ bringing light, warmth, and life to a world that has lain for centuries under the curse of darkness, sin, and death. In short, Christmas has come.

 

The Collect of the Day often provides a helpful interpretive key to the appointed readings and psalms. So, let’s listen again to today’s Collect: “Almighty God, you have poured upon us the new light of your incarnate Word: Grant that this light, enkindled in our hearts, may shine forth in our lives; through Jesus Christ our Lord …”

 

Notice how this this Collect describes a three-step process. First, God pours upon us the light of his incarnate Word. In other words, Jesus Christ comes into the world; his birth is what we’ve just celebrated on Christmas Day. Second, this light is not meant to remain external, illuminating us only from without. So, we pray that it may be enkindled in our hearts—enlightening and warming us from within. Then, third, with our hearts thus set on fire, we pray that the light may shine forth in our lives, bringing life and warmth to those around us—to our families and friends, our homes and workplaces, and indeed further afield, among people and communities across the nation and throughout the world. 

So, to recapitulate—Step One, God pours upon us the light of his Incarnate Word; Step Two, that light ignites and enflames our hearts; and Step Three, that same light shines forth from us brightening the world.

 

A tension sometimes arises in the Church’s life between two tendencies that are sometimes called “personal religion” and “the Social Gospel”—or, in more Catholic language, between “the contemplative life” and “the active life.” That is: between those, on one hand, who emphasize the Christian’s personal relationship with God in worship, prayer, and adoration, and those, on the other hand, who emphasize our Christian calling to go out into the world and participate actively in the Church’s mission and ministry. 

 

Today’s Collect suggests, however, that the true relationship between these two emphases is not “either/or” but “both/and.” That is, the light of Christ cannot truly shine forth in our lives unless it’s first enkindled in our hearts. But conversely, with our hearts thus warmed, we can’t help wanting to let the light of Christ shine forth by words of encouragement, acts of kindness, works of mercy, and lives of service.

 

Above all, we remember that Jesus Christ, the Word Incarnate, is the only source of true light, warmth, and life. As today’s Gospel says of Saint John the Baptist, we are not that light, but we’re sent to bear witness to that light. And so, during this twelve-day season of Christmas, we might profitably meditate on that Collect, and then reflect on what steps we might take now to invite Christ into our hearts, so that he may set us on fire, making our lives a beacon of his light and love to a cold and darkened world.