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St. Francis was in Spoleto and a man afflicted with a horrible disfiguring facial cancer came to him seeking prayers. When he met Francis he was about to throw himself at his feet, but Francis prevented him and then kissed the man’s face, which was immediately healed of the cancer. Remarking on this event, St. Bonaventure writes, “I know not which I ought to wonder at, such a cure or such a kiss.” Reflecting on Bonaventure’s comment, author Michael D. O’Brien writes, “Which was the greater miracle, the suspension of natural law for the sake of physical healing, or the conversion of the human heart by absolute love?”

These past few weeks we have been speaking of the incarnation—God becoming man—so that he could first, wrap his arms of love around us and draw us to himself and second, so that we could become like him, that we might be with him where he is. However, becoming like Christ is not only about some future event, it is also about today, which means that because of the incarnation, we are to live incarnational lives. That means that not only do we become what he is, but we do those things he did. To live incarnationally means that we are to reveal God’s very nature to the world, not just in words and sentiments, but in deeds and actions. St. Augustine writes, “You are the Body of Christ. In you and through you the work of the incarnation must go forward. You are to be taken. You are to be blessed, broken and distributed, that you may be the means of grace and vehicles of eternal love.”

The incarnation is God wrapping his arms of love around you and helping you take one faltering step after another, but he created you in his image so that you—living incarnationally—will wrap your arms of love around another and help them to do the same. The incarnation was God redeeming all flesh, but you are his messengers, the bringers of the Good News.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer writes, “A truth, a doctrine, or a religion need no space for themselves. They are disembodied entities. They are heard, learnt, and apprehended, and that is all. But the incarnate son of God needs not only ears or hearts, but living people who will follow him. That is why he called his disciples into a literal, bodily following, and thus made his fellowship with them a visible reality. Having been called they could no longer remain in obscurity, they were the light that must shine, the city on the hill which must be seen.”

God calls on us—like He did Francis—to live incarnationally, to be the ones who kiss the diseased face of humanity and to love unconditionally and without fear.

God became what we are, so that we could become what he is; therefore, we must be transformed. We must go from being holy observers of the world around us to incarnational disciples intentionally putting flesh on God? I like what my friend St. Josemaría Escrivá writes, “Don’t fly like a barnyard hen when you can soar like an eagle.” That is not easy. It takes courage, but that courage is within you. As Escrivá also writes, “Courage! You can! Don’t you see what God’s grace did to that sleepy, cowardly Peter, who had denied him to that fierce, relentless Paul, who had persecuted him?” To go from observer to incarnational disciple requires that we repeat the words of the Blessed Virgin Mary, the words that she spoke on the day that the angel of the Lord came and visited her, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” But we must not only speak those words, we must also allow them to breathe new life into us—a life filled with the Holy Spirit of God, so that we might transform the world around as we have been transformed.

I’m not preaching works—what we do for God—over faith, but there must be action behind our words. As the Apostle James writes, “I by my works will show you my faith.” We are not saved by our works, but our works are a testimony to our faith. Brennan Manning says in The Rabbi’s Heartbeat, “The Christian commitment is not an abstraction. It is a concrete, visible, courageous, and formidable way of being in the world forged by daily choices consistent with inner truth. A commitment that is not visible in humble service, suffering discipleship, and creative love… ‘a life that is not living incarnationally’ – is an illusion. Jesus Christ is impatient with illusions, and the world has no interest in abstractions.” Therefore, allow the Father to wrap his loving arms around you, become what he is, and then go, courageously performing the work he has given to you.

Let us pray: Lord Jesus, Master of both the light and the darkness, send your Holy Spirit upon our preparations for Christmas. We who have so much to do seek quiet spaces to hear your voice each day. We who are anxious over many things look forward to your coming among us. We who are blessed in so many ways long for the complete joy of your kingdom. We whose hearts are heavy seek the joy of your presence. We are your people, walking in darkness, yet seeking the light. To you we say, “Come Lord Jesus!” Amen.

The podcast can be found here.

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Mrs. Adeline LaRoux would often speed excessively as she drove between New Orleans and Lafayette, but it wasn’t until she was 95 years old that she got stopped for speeding for the first time. A Louisiana State Trooper stopped her doing 87 in a 75. The Trooper was a bit shocked to see her age, but even more so when he noticed that she held a concealed weapon carry permit. He asked her, “Got any guns with you today, Ma’am?” She answered, “Yes, Sir. I have a 45 Smith & Wesson in the glove compartment.” “Is that so,” he asked with a smile, “any other.” “Well, since you asked, I’ve got a 357 Magnum in the console and a 38-Special in my purse.” Shaking his head, the trooper said, “Mrs. LaRoux, what are you scared of?” Turning slightly in her seat and looking up at him sweetly, she replied, “Why, not a dang thing!”

There are all sorts of interesting folks in this world. Not all, but most are worth meeting. They have great stories, interesting adventures, some make you laugh, and others warm your heart. There are folks who are quick to lend a hand or an ear and still others that would give you the shirt off their backs if you were in need, and there are a few grandmothers who pack a little bit more than Juicy Fruit Gum in their purses; but in all your dealings with the world—meeting those that cross your path—have you ever come across Jesus? Ever caught a glimpse of him out of the corner of your eye or saw him in on a crowded street, only to lose him around the next corner? Would you like to come face-to-face with Him? Not everyone wants to, but if you do, then why?
We are told in John’s Gospel, “Now there were some Greeks among those who went up to worship at the festival. They came to Philip, who was from Bethsaida in Galilee, with a request. ‘Sir,’ they said, ‘we would like to see Jesus.’” Why did they want to see him? People have always wanted to see Jesus, to talk to him, ask questions, but mostly it was—and still is—to see what he can do. And not only what He can do, but what He can do for them. It seems that so often people want to see Jesus, to have contact with him, not for who he is, but instead they want to see him for what he can do for them.

I remember Herod’s Song from Jesus Christ Superstar:
Jesus, I am overjoyed to meet you face to face.
You’ve been getting quite a name all around the place.
Healing cripples, raising from the dead.
And now I understand you’re God,
At least, that’s what you’ve said.
So, you are the Christ, you’re the great Jesus Christ.
Prove to me that you’re divine; change my water into wine…
So, you are the Christ, you’re the great Jesus Christ.
Prove to me that you’re no fool; walk across my swimming pool.

The fact that folks were always wanting something from him was no big secret to Jesus either. He knew why most of the people were coming after him. After the feeding of the 5,000 Jesus went to the other side of the lake and they searched him out: “When they found him on the other side of the lake, they asked him, ‘Rabbi, when did you get here?’ Jesus answered, ‘Very truly I tell you, you are looking for me, not because you saw the signs I performed but because you ate the loaves and had your fill.’” You looked for me not because of who I am, but for what I can do for you.

Now if I were to meet Jesus I would not be so trivial as to ask him to turn water into wine. No. We would have some great theological discussion on the real presence in the Eucharist, the Holy Trinity, atonement theories, and the likes. We would spend hours together in silent contemplative prayer, writing new Psalms, and accurately translating the original Greek and Hebrew texts of the Bible. Who am I kidding – I would probably ask him what the winning numbers of the Powerball Lottery were going to be and why do dogs eat grass.

I still contend that when we read the Bible we are all pretty much like the Pharisee in the story of the Pharisee and the tax collector in the Temple. They were both praying, and the Pharisee says, “I’m so glad I’m not like that poor schmuck,” and the poor schmuck says, “I’m not worthy.” We think we would never act like those individuals in the Bible: the people clamoring around for healings, food, miracles. We say with the Pharisee, I’m glad I’m not like them, but in truth… we are. We sometimes do the same things. We want him around for the tricks. If there is a God, then let him do something about all the wars, cancer, divorce, terrorism, the Oklahoma state budget? Why does he allow the pedophiles to roam the streets and the children to die of starvation? Why won’t he do something about all this? And that’s just the world around us, what about me? I could use a better job. Heck, I could use a job. Heal me. Feed me. Give me just one thing I ask for.

The Incarnation of God—God becoming man—has a Name, and that Name is Immanuel. “The virgin will conceive and give birth to a son, and they will call him Immanuel” (which means “God with us”). Immanuel—God with us—not God with us to do all the stuff we ask Him to do. If God appeared to you while you were standing in front of the lottery machine, told you to enter the numbers to win, and you ended up winning umpteen million dollars, would you love Him more? Or would you go about the business of spending umpteen million dollars? If God fed you breakfast, would you go away satisfied with a thankful heart or would you be trying to figure out where he would be serving lunch? If God saved you in the face of imminent death, would you—for the rest of your life—would you spend more time in prayer and study of His Holy Word or would you say, “Phew! That was a close one,” and go about your business?

Jesus was born in a stable, not with umpteen million dollars stuffed in a mattress, but straw that may or may not have been completely sanitary. Jesus spent forty days and nights in the desert with no food, not being handed everything on a silver platter, and being tempted by the devil. Jesus faced imminent death and died upon the cross at the age of thirty-three and no one saved him. These things tell us that the Incarnation is not about God paving the paths we walk in gold.

So, if we say that the Incarnation is not about God becoming man so that he can give us what we want, then why? The Incarnation, God becoming Man, Immanuel, is God with us “always, even unto the end of the age.” It is God with us in our poverty—poverty of flesh and poverty of spirit. It is God with us nourishing our souls with His Body and Blood even when our stomachs may rumble with hunger. It is God with us as we walk through the valley of the shadow of death and come out on the other side in His glorious Kingdom. St. Paul writes, “Christ Jesus came into this world to save sinners,” so that we might be with him eternally and so that we might be like him; or as St. Athanasius writes, God “became what we are, so that we might become what He is.”

Imagine, every time you took a picture of yourself—a selfie—duck lips, tongue out, whatever… but every time you took a selfie, you got a picture of Jesus instead. Imagine someone takes a picture of you with your family or friends and when the picture is developed, all your family and friends are there, but where you were standing or sitting is Jesus.

Last week we said that the Incarnation is a mystery, but it is God becoming man so that he might wrap his arms of love around you and hold you to Himself. To that we add, the Incarnation is God becoming man, not to give us all we ask for and think we need, but so that we might become what He is.

There are all sorts of interesting people in this world and God desires to be incarnated in each of them. He desires to be born in you, so that he may be one with you—He in us and we in Him.

Let us pray: Lord Jesus, Master of both the light and the darkness, send your Holy Spirit upon our preparations for Christmas. We who have so much to do seek quiet spaces to hear your voice each day. We who are anxious over many things look forward to your coming among us. We who are blessed in so many ways long for the complete joy of your kingdom. We whose hearts are heavy seek the joy of your presence. We are your people, walking in darkness, yet seeking the light. To you we say, “Come Lord Jesus!” Amen.

The podcast can be found here.

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Hagiography: it is the biography of a saint or other venerated person. The more modern hagiographies are fairly accurate, however, those from early in the Christian tradition are often times more fiction than fact. For example, our saint for today, Nicholas, is said to have been so pious, even as infant, that he would only nurse once on Wednesdays and Fridays, because those were fast days. There is also the story of a ship that was sailing from Egypt to deliver a load of grain to the Emperor’s granaries in Alexandria. The ship made a stop in Myra where Nicholas was Bishop. As there was a famine in the land, Nicholas asked the crew to leave some grain for the citizens in Myra. They agreed, even though they would likely be severely punished, but when they arrived in Alexandria, the ship was miraculously full again. It is common to this day for sailors in the East, to wish each other a safe voyage by saying, “May Nicholas hold your tiller.”

Before his death in 342 AD, he was elected abbot of the monastery and then arch-bishop of Myra. A myth surrounds his selection as well. Apparently the bishops had a vision that the first person to enter the cathedral the following morning was to be selected. Of course, it was Nicholas. He had come in early to pray.

His hagiography is colorful, but perhaps it does point to a certain amount of truth. It points to a man who perhaps heard those words of Jesus, “Let the little children come to me; do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs,” and upon hearing them looked at everyone he encountered as a little child of God, and not only did he not prevent them from coming, but he also picked them up and placed them in Jesus lap.

When we speak of St. Nicholas, we always think of that jolly bearded man in red (with a brilliant “hagiography” of his own!), which leads us to thinking about the giving and receiving of gifts, but there is no greater gift you can give someone than to place them in the lap of Jesus, into the hands of Jesus. John said in our Epistle, “Beloved, since God loved us so much, we also ought to love one another.”

This Christmas, when giving gifts, also give the gift of love, the love of God which is in you, and throughout these holy days, “May Nicholas hold your tiller.”

The podcast can be found here.

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In the year 1547, Henry VIII died and his young son Edward VI ascended the throne. Even though Henry had broken with the Roman Church several years before, the Church of England continued to use the Latin Rites for services, but a few years after Edward’s reign began, in 1549, the First Book of Common Prayer was introduced. Since that time – about 468 years – we as Anglicans / Episcopalians have been “reading to God.” It is said that our ability to worship is extremely hampered as our eyesight begins to fail, although, with faithful attendance over the years, most Episcopalians know the various Rites by heart.

What has this got to do with today’s message? Well, I’m simply laying the ground work for “reading” a lengthy passage to you. Why? Because we often speak about the Incarnation, that is, God becoming man in the person of Jesus, but it is not an easy concept for anyone to grasp. To a degree, we understand the “How?” of the process: God, through the Holy Spirit, came to the Blessed Virgin Mary and she conceived a Son, the very Son of God; but the “Why?” behind the Incarnation is even more of a mystery. And so – this is where the lengthy passage comes in – the year is 1996 and the setting is L’Arche Daybreak, a community for people with mental disabilities. The author would die suddenly in September of that year. He writes:

“After caring for Adam for a few months, I was no longer afraid of him. Waking him up in the morning, giving him a bath and brushing his teeth, shaving his beard and feeding him breakfast had created such a bond between us-a bond beyond words and visible signs of recognition-that I started to miss him when we couldn’t be together. My time with him had become a time of prayer, silence, and quiet intimacy. Adam had become a true peacemaker for me, a man who loved and trusted me even when I made the water for his bath too hot or too cold, cut him with the razor, or gave him the wrong type of clothes to wear.

“His epileptic seizures no longer scared me either. They simply caused me to slow down, forget about other obligations, and stay with him, covering him with heavy blankets to keep him warm. His difficult and very slow walk no longer irritated me but gave me an opportunity to stand behind him, put my arms around his waist, and speak encouraging words as he took one careful step after the other. His spilling a glass full of orange juice or dropping his spoon with food on the floor no longer made me panic but simply made me clean up. Knowing Adam became a privilege for me. Who can be as close to another human being as I could be to Adam? Who can spend a few hours each day with a man who gives you all his confidence and trust? Isn’t that what joy is?

“And Michael, Adam’s brother: what a gift his friendship became! He became the only one in the community who calls me “Father Henri.” Every time he says that, there is a smile on his face, suggesting that he really should be a Father too! With his halting, stuttering voice, he keeps saying, pointing to the large stole around my neck, “I . . . want . . . that. . . too . . . Father.” When Michael is sad because his brother is sick, or because he has many seizures himself, or because someone he loves is leaving, he comes to me, puts his arms around me, and lets his tears flow freely. Then after a while he grabs me by the shoulder, looks at me, and with a big smile breaking through his tears he says. “You are… a … funny… Father!” When we pray together, he often points to his heart and says: “I feel… it… here… here in my heart.” But as we hold hands, there is that immense joy that emerges from our shared sorrow.”

Speaking of the Incarnation, Martin Luther wrote, “The mystery of the humanity of Christ, that He sunk Himself into our flesh, is beyond all human understanding.” So how are we then to catch even a glimpse of it from this passage?

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. … The Word became flesh and made his dwelling among us.”

The Word.. God.. became flesh – Jesus – and walked among us. Billy Graham said in a sermon, “I’ve seen the effects of the wind, but I’ve never seen the wind. There’s a mystery to it.” We can see the wheat as it blows in the field, we can watch the flag flutter, but that unseen force is invisible to us. In a similar manner, we cannot understand that Unseen Force which is God. We can’t sit and watch as He works for the fulfillment of His purposes or know the workings of His mind – it is a mystery. As the Lord says, “For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,” and that mystery is no less evident than when it comes to the Incarnation. Yet, like the wind – we can’t see it, but we can see the effects – we may not be able to understand the Incarnation, but we can see its effects. Like a drop of red dye in glass of clean water, it begins to seep in and permeate everything. It changes things from the inside out and the outside in.

Henri Nouwen was a Catholic Priest. He authored over forty books, not a one of which would be a waste of your time, and his writings are revered by both Catholics and Protestants alike. A Christian Century magazine article noted that “Both mainline Protestant and Catholic clergy named Nouwen as the author they most often read, other than the Bible, in their work as pastors. Notables as respected and diverse as UN Secretary-General Kofi Annan, U.S. Senators and TV’s Fred Rogers (“Mister Roger’s Neighborhood”) have publicly acknowledged the considerable influence that Nouwen’s writings have had on them personally.” He falls in the list of great theologians – particularly of spirituality – of the 20th century. He taught at some of the most prestigious universities: Harvard, Yale, Notre Dame, and he was sought after all over the world for speaking engagements, retreats and spiritual direction.

About ten years before his death, he moved to the L’Arche Daybreak community where he lived in very sparse quarters and everyday he cared for Adam, his brother Michael, and many other severely mentally challenged individuals. Those were his words that I shared with you about the two boys. This great theologian, Fr. Henri – sought after all over the world – set it all aside, humbled himself, and cared for those that the world cared nothing about.

The Incarnation of our Lord Jesus is a mystery, the effects are not. The Incarnation is God – the Creator of heaven and Earth – setting it all aside, humbling himself, and helping us with our daily lives. Nourishing us, clothing us, helping us to walk, and even missing us when we are not there. The Incarnation allows us to look at what we understand, and even don’t understand, of the plan God has for our lives and say to Him, “I . . . want . . . that. . . too . . . Father.” When we are most alone and He speaks so softly to us, we can say with Michael, “I feel… it… here… here in my heart.” And even when things go remarkably wrong he helps us to smile and declare, “You are… a … funny… Father!” The Incarnation is a mystery, but it is God becoming man so that he might wrap his arms around you and hold you to Himself.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer writes: “God is not ashamed of the lowliness of human beings. God marches right in. He chooses people as his instruments and performs his wonders where one would least expect them. God is near to lowliness; he loves the lost, the neglected, the unseemly, the excluded, the weak and broken.” The Incarnation is God marching into this world and loving his creation… loving us.

Let us pray – This is an Advent prayer from Fr. Henri Nouwen: Lord Jesus, Master of both the light and the darkness, send your Holy Spirit upon our preparations for Christmas. We who have so much to do seek quiet spaces to hear your voice each day. We who are anxious over many things look forward to your coming among us. We who are blessed in so many ways long for the complete joy of your kingdom. We whose hearts are heavy seek the joy of your presence. We are your people, walking in darkness, yet seeking the light. To you we say, “Come Lord Jesus!” Amen.

The podcast can be found here.

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True story: In the mid-1970s a particular young man was so broke that he had to sell his beloved dog for $25, his wife’s jewelry, and lived in a bus depot for awhile because he could not afford rent. One day he goes to a sporting event and was inspired to write a movie script. He went home and in three days produced his first draft. To his surprise, the movie studios loved it and began bidding for it. The first bid was $35,000. Not bad for a fella with $106 in the bank. The bidding kept going and eventually reached $325,000, the highest amount ever offered for a movie script. However, the fella turned down the offer, because he had placed one condition on the sell of the script: he was to play the leading man; never mind the fact that the studio bosses were already trying to get Robert Redford, James Caan, or Burt Reynolds for the lead. He said, “I knew that if I took the money I’d regret it for the rest of my life. And the picture was about taking that golden shot when you finally get it.” He held out and the studio finally gave in. The young man was paid $35,000 dollars for his script and was allowed to star in the movie. The studio didn’t have much hope in the show doing well, so it fell into low budget production. When it hit the movie theaters, they all knew that Rocky was going to be a winner, including the author of the script and the lead actor, Sylvester Stallone.
That movie won three Oscars including best movie in 1976 (Stallone showed up in a rented tux without a tie, because the tie he was wearing broke during his cab ride to the awards ceremony). To date, the Rocky franchise has earned over $1 billion. Stallone’s net worth is a bit more than that $106, it is now somewhere in the neighborhood of $400 million.

What does this have to do with Andrew who we celebrate today? “As Jesus walked by the Sea of Galilee, he saw two brothers, Simon, who is called Peter, and Andrew his brother, casting a net into the sea—for they were fishermen. And he said to them, ‘Follow me, and I will make you fish for people.’ Immediately they left their nets and followed him.” The same is said about James and John when Jesus said to them, “Follow me.” “Immediately they left the boat and their father, and followed him.” I am always fascinated by that, “immediately they” left what they had and followed Jesus. Immediately. And I have to ask, “Why?” I think we see a glimpse of the answer in that story of Stallone.

Stallone knew who he was and what he had… at least what he believed he had. He also knew what he wanted for his life. Something he had been pursuing for many years and when he finally saw it, what he had been wanting and working for, he grabbed hold and no amount of money would sway him from it. Although he was chasing after worldly goals, it would seem that Andrew and the others also possessed that same characteristic when it came to following the things of God. They seem to be those who said, “For now, I will fish, but when I see that which my heart is longing for, I will grab ahold and no amount of money or security will sway me.” They had this idea for what they wanted in their lives, and this idea could only be fulfilled in God; and when God walked past and said, “Follow me,” these fishermen cast everything else aside and followed him.

In a similar manner, Jesus says to each of us, “Follow me,” and like those first disciples, we are to respond immediately. That does not necessarily mean casting your life aside, but for each of us, it does mean faithfully following him where he has called us, whether that be at home caring for children, at work, in leisure enjoying creation, wherever. We are called to be faithful disciples, fully engaged in our life with him, following where he leads, and prepared to renounce any other offer that attempts to lure us away.