The Three Wise Babies
I was never sure what the difference was between Epiphany and Advent. They both reminded me of speaker systems I had in college.
Seriously, it is the rare Sunday when I can honestly say, a Mass has altered [altared?] my mood. This morning's was one of them. I say that because I usually require being in a good mood before I can even get to church. By definition, if I'm up at that hour and willing to travel the half-hour to forty-five minutes it takes to get to St. Mike's; if I'm willing to climb up and down that Hogwarts-like constellation of staircases that connects the "Q" train with the red line at Times Square -- I must be in a good mood.
But, today was dicey. I really was a bit at sea. I have felt like such a dilletante, lately. The recording in my head says that, I'm not "excellent" at anything. I'm not even an excellent Christian; I hate suffering; I hate sacrifice. There are no stigmata on my hands.
Good works come few and far between with me. Okay, occasionally, I will give up my subway seat for an old person. But, that's pretty bush-league as far as Christianity goes, don't you think?
Anyway, that was my mood by the time I dragged myself to Mass.
Then, something interesting happened. Rev. Kate gave one of the most excellent sermons I have ever heard. I can't even tell you what it was about. I think it was about the Epiphany.
You see, last week was the last week of Advent, on the church calendar. It was all about the Baby Jesus. The greening of the church. The beginnings of things.
Today's Gospel [Matthew 3:17], as Rev. Kate pointed out, literally skips about thirty years in Jesus' life. There's a lot we don't know about what happened between the birth of Jesus and his sudden appearance at that riverside with John the Baptist.
I think Kate's point was that God doesn't ask a lot from us, just as he didn't ask a lot from Jesus before pronouncing Himself "well-pleased." In other words, God doesn't care if I'm a dilletante.
But, more than in any doctrinal sense, it was a well delivered sermon. It was both witty and poignant. It gave us a tiny glimpse of Kate's own daily life (which isn't much different from our own.) She really owned that pulpit. For the first time, in nearly two years, I had a real sense of a priestly super-star in the making.
It was also fun sitting in the large sanctuary again. I shared a pew with John and Anne. Barry and Russell and Lawrence were to my rear. The Crosbys were a couple of pews in front. I felt surrounded by people who know me pretty well and who don't mind my shortcomings.
And, there were hymns. Marvelous hymns. We sang from "Lift Every Voice..." for the first time in months. I skipped a verse of "Shall We Gather By The River". I skipped it in a good loud voice. No one looked around to see who the lowly miscreant was. John simply said, "Slow down. You're going too fast." We were better by the time "Wade In The Water" came around.
And, there were Baptisms today. Three of them. In fact, according to Rev. Kate, the first Sunday of Epiphany is the traditional day for baptisms. In her sermon, Kate said, that on this day and every day, God speaks to babies in a language only they can understand. They understand that even at six months of age and no donors of buildings or great works of art, that God is pleased with them.
Seriously, it is the rare Sunday when I can honestly say, a Mass has altered [altared?] my mood. This morning's was one of them. I say that because I usually require being in a good mood before I can even get to church. By definition, if I'm up at that hour and willing to travel the half-hour to forty-five minutes it takes to get to St. Mike's; if I'm willing to climb up and down that Hogwarts-like constellation of staircases that connects the "Q" train with the red line at Times Square -- I must be in a good mood.
But, today was dicey. I really was a bit at sea. I have felt like such a dilletante, lately. The recording in my head says that, I'm not "excellent" at anything. I'm not even an excellent Christian; I hate suffering; I hate sacrifice. There are no stigmata on my hands.
Good works come few and far between with me. Okay, occasionally, I will give up my subway seat for an old person. But, that's pretty bush-league as far as Christianity goes, don't you think?
Anyway, that was my mood by the time I dragged myself to Mass.
Then, something interesting happened. Rev. Kate gave one of the most excellent sermons I have ever heard. I can't even tell you what it was about. I think it was about the Epiphany.
You see, last week was the last week of Advent, on the church calendar. It was all about the Baby Jesus. The greening of the church. The beginnings of things.
Today's Gospel [Matthew 3:17], as Rev. Kate pointed out, literally skips about thirty years in Jesus' life. There's a lot we don't know about what happened between the birth of Jesus and his sudden appearance at that riverside with John the Baptist.
I think Kate's point was that God doesn't ask a lot from us, just as he didn't ask a lot from Jesus before pronouncing Himself "well-pleased." In other words, God doesn't care if I'm a dilletante.
But, more than in any doctrinal sense, it was a well delivered sermon. It was both witty and poignant. It gave us a tiny glimpse of Kate's own daily life (which isn't much different from our own.) She really owned that pulpit. For the first time, in nearly two years, I had a real sense of a priestly super-star in the making.
It was also fun sitting in the large sanctuary again. I shared a pew with John and Anne. Barry and Russell and Lawrence were to my rear. The Crosbys were a couple of pews in front. I felt surrounded by people who know me pretty well and who don't mind my shortcomings.
And, there were hymns. Marvelous hymns. We sang from "Lift Every Voice..." for the first time in months. I skipped a verse of "Shall We Gather By The River". I skipped it in a good loud voice. No one looked around to see who the lowly miscreant was. John simply said, "Slow down. You're going too fast." We were better by the time "Wade In The Water" came around.
And, there were Baptisms today. Three of them. In fact, according to Rev. Kate, the first Sunday of Epiphany is the traditional day for baptisms. In her sermon, Kate said, that on this day and every day, God speaks to babies in a language only they can understand. They understand that even at six months of age and no donors of buildings or great works of art, that God is pleased with them.