A Sermon in Satire.
Der Pontifuherer ist hafink a bad day!
He just found out all the new Cardinals want PINK hats!

There has been some conversation about our Seattle friends of the Roman persuasion who seem to be rather ticked about Her latest stances about women, gay marriage, birth control and the like.  http://www.thestranger.com/seattle/mass-uprising/Content?oid=12587024  

So, the conversation has continued about the possibility of Episcopal priests celebrating the Roman Mass used before Advent 2011 for Roman Catholics no longer feeling welcome or comfortable in their own Church. This is not an attempt to steel sheep.  We're not trying to make converts nor are we trying to raise money. It's simply an attempt to provide the valid Eucharist to Roman Catholics by Episcopal Catholics without the homophobia, the misogyny, or the guilt.  

Your thoughs are welcome to phathyr@yahoo.com 

The Feast of the Epiphany

Well, I suspect that by now, you’ve taken down the tree

and the string with the Christmas Cards draped over it. 

The gifts have either been put in places of honor around the house

or been put in the “regift” box. 

Just remember who gave you what

so you don’t give the same gift back to the same person next year. 

It can be a bit embarrassing. 

But you might still have the Crèche up

with the wise men off in the distance

making their way to the holy site. 

And my suspicion is that the Turkey is on its last legs

      if even still around

and you won’t want another turkey sandwich until March. 

And I can’t blame ya. 

Turkey’s never been one of my favorites. 

Give me that old Prime Rib with the Yorkshire Pudding!  Mmmmm.

It seems hard to believe that just twelve short days ago

we filled this very Church to sing God’s praises

for the coming of the Word made Flesh

in the little Child of Bethlehem. 

But here we are – Wise Men and all –

celebrating the Epiphany of Our Lord. 

The story of the Wise Men, the Magi, as they were called,

      is endearing to us all. 

And how many different interpretations have we seen? 

Remember Amal and the Night Visitors by Gian Carlo Menotti?

Boy, was that a hit on NBC when I was a little kid. 

I remember years later seeing a Christmas Card

      on the front of which was the Three Wise Men at night

      with the stars shining in the sky

      and a dark silhouette of a long building off in the distance. 

On one end there was a dim, red light which said,

“Montgomery Ward” and on the other end, “Sears.” 

Inside, the card read, “A Mall and the Night Visitors.” 

Get it?! Guess you had to be three. 

There’s not a lot to know about the Three Wise Men, or the Magi,

except for the fact that the name Magi

is where we get the words “magic” and “magician.” 

These three fellahs were essentially priests of Zoroastrianism,

a religion founded by a guy named Zoroaster, believe it or not. 

The basic symbols of Zoroastrianism were similar to Christianity

especially when dealing with the concepts of darkness and light. 

About a million Zoroastrians still exist in Iran and Iraq

who worship just one God to this very day. 

The Magi were essentially astrologers. 

They watched the stars for the answers to all sorts of questions. 

But in the eyes of their far away Jewish neighbors,

      they were nothing more than quacks,

      seers of crystal balls, Tarot card readers. 

Remember Miss Cleo on the TV about ten years ago?

      “Caaall me now fer yer free readin’!” 

      Miss Cleo is still in jail for fraud, by the way. 

To the Jews, the Magi were an abomination unto the Lord.  Deuteronomy says,

When you come into the land that the Lord your God is giving you, you must not learn to imitate the abhorrent practices of those nations. No one shall be found among you who makes a son or daughter pass through fire, or who practices divination, or is a soothsayer, or an augur, or a sorcerer, or one who casts spells, or who consults ghosts or spirits, or who seeks oracles from the dead. For whoever does these things is abhorrent to the Lord; it is because of such abhorrent practices that the Lord your God is driving them out before you.

Apparently, Moses wasn’t too keen on the idea

and it got written in to the books. 

The other thing about the Magi is

      that they had some sort of official function during the sacrifices

      of Zoroastrian worship. 

It seems that they were the ones who recited the incantations

      while the poor animal was meeting its end. 

And they were paid – Gold. 

They also offered incense during the rite. 

And it also seems that they were in charge of seeing to the dead

and trying to contact them after their departure. 

And, as we all know,

      myrrh was the ancient version of embalming fluid. 

Let’s face it;

      among the Chosen People into whom Jesus was born,

      Magi were a total abomination. 

They were anathema to the religious authorities

      of the Jewish Nation and Faith –

      the ultimate heretics,

            and, as we all know, abominations unto the Lord. 

And such abominations always deserve death!

And yet, who is it that sees the star in the east? 

Naturally, astrologers! 

And they know it’s an important star they’ve seen. 

Historically, it may have been an alignment

      of the Earth, Jupiter and Saturn that occurred

      around that time in history. 

It may have been a super-nova or some other astronomical event. 

But the Magi saw it and it caught them by surprise

      because before they knew it,

      they had their camels and their caravan ready

      and were heading west. 

And what to their wondering eyes should appear,

      but a thirteen year old mother and her husband,

            older by ten years or so. 

And the child, now twelve days old,

      circumcised and a full-fledged Son of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. 

Now, as most of you know,

      I’m no expert in children or child rearing,

            but I can think of more appropriate gifts for a new born. 

Well, maybe the gold is OK. 

      Seed money for a college fund or something like that. 

But Mary and Joseph don’t seem to be as picky. 

They welcome these three visitors from the far away East

      into the cave at Bethlehem and graciously accept their gifts. 

Mary lets them hold the baby and they pass him around. 

And Joseph, the proud father, just beams with delight. 

Had they existed back then,

      I suspect the Magi would’ve left with cigars!

And after a good visit, the Magi get back on their camels

      and call to their caravan and off they go into the night,

      back to the East from whence they’d come. 

Now, notice what doesn’t happen. 

While one can certainly imagine

      that such a visit to the Word made Flesh

      made an impression on the Magi,

            and it may have even transformed their lives for ever,

they return to the East still Zoroastrians! 

And they’re still the heretic Magi! 

The Blessed Mother didn’t ask for their conversion.

They are not Jews. 

They are not Christians, certainly. 

But they are God’s beloved,

just as they have always been. 

The mystery and miracle of the Epiphany

      is the manifestation of Christ to the world. 

The whole point of the Epiphany story,

      whether it’s based in history, legend or myth

is that within the economy of God’s Kingdom

      the list of who and what is an abomination

      is turned upside down. 

The point of the Epiphany is

      that the entire human race throughout history is a race of seekers

      seeking the Divine One

            who when they find this Divine One,

            embraces them with open arms. 

The great mystery of the Epiphany is

      that there are no abominations in God’s sight,

            at least not how we define them.

The true abominations are behaviors and actions of Herod,

      but he’s an entirely different sermon.

I have no doubt that the Magi on this very Epiphany night

in the year of our Lord 2012

are gazing into the mystery of the Christ Child

and have been for the last two thousand years. 

And I suspect that they’re still Zoroastrians

and that the Christ Child is just fine with that. 

Amen.

The Feast of Christ the King - Better Late than Never!

Theologians and Biblical scholars have noted that if one were to take three passages from the New Testament and discard the rest, one could still have the fullness of the teachings of the Gospel. The first is that great Hymn in the Prologue of the Gospel of St. John, “In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God. And the Word was God. And the Word was made flesh and dwelt among us, full of grace and truth.”

The second is from the Eighth Chapter of St. Paul’s Epistle to the Romans where the Blessed, if not sometimes grumpy, Apostle says, “For I am convinced that neither life nor death, nor angels nor principalities, nor things present nor things to come, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.”

And the third is this morning’s Gospel, the separating of the sheep from the goats and that what we do to the least of the members of Christ’s family, in other words, all humanity, we do to him.

In many ways, it seems pointless to preach on this morning’s Gospel. No preacher can outdo our Lord in this wonderful passage. And, in our particular case, any preacher would be preaching to the Choir. This is a passage that we understand and that we as a community have taken to heart. And we do the best we can as individuals and as a community and leave the rest to the grace of God.

In some ways, it’s unfortunate that this wonderful Gospel is appointed for the Feast of Christ the King because the Feast of Christ the King is somewhat an oxymoron. Jesus didn’t come to be King. He came to serve and to give his life that we might live. The Feast itself has odious roots to begin with.

Some historians claim that the First World War was a family feud gone terribly bad. The Kaiser, the Czar and the King were all first cousins, grandsons of Her Glorious Majesty, Victoria, Queen of England, Scotland, Northern Ireland and Her Dominions, and Empress of India. When the smoke cleared after the most vicious and destructive war in human history up to that point, the Czar and his family were dead, the Kaiser was in exile in Holland, and the King’s empire less powerful than when the war had started. In November of 1918, Europe lay in ruins, refugees migrating here and there. Chaos ruled in many parts. New nation states were trying to form and well into the 1920s, the economic situation on the Continent was dire especially in what was left of Germany and the former Austro-Hungarian Empire of the Hapsburgs. All was ripe for an opportunist to come onto the scene and try to steal the show.

That opportunist was to be found in the person of Pius XI, Bishop of Rome. Pius had his own problems. He and his entourage were essentially prisoners within what eventually would become the nation state of Vatican City. His predecessors having lost the Papal States in the previous century, His Holiness’ temporal power was all but gone. And, in a bid to reassert his power, he established the Feast of Christ the King in 1925. The theology of the feast celebrated the Lordship of Christ over all humanity who owed him their undying allegiance. Fair enough. But Pius had other ideas too. Being Christ’s vicar on Earth, the allegiance was to be shown to him and his authority obeyed without question. After all, he WAS the Pope! The non-Catholic world just rolled their eyes and thumbed their noses at Pius. And Roman Catholics were happy to celebrate the feast, but as for the rest of it, they just smiled and said, “How nice, Your Holiness. Thanks for sharing,” and went on their merry ways as if nothing had happened.

And it’s no wonder that nobody took Pius seriously. Let’s face it: kings haven’t been a real success in the political business. From the Pharaohs to the Roman Emperors to the Czars to the monarchs of our own Tradition as Anglicans, kings in general have either been tyrants who oppressed their people to the ultimate degree or were just plain incompetent hedonists. The only monarchs worth their salt have been the women. Within our own Tradition, from Good Queen Bess, to Queen Anne, to the seemingly never-ending reign of Queen Victoria to the present occupant of the British throne, the women have, in comparison to the men, been a rousing success. They have been seen as the kind but strong mothers of their realms and healthy mothers always have their wellbeing of their children at heart. The metaphor of Christ as King just doesn’t work. First of all, Jesus came not to be a king but to give his life so that we might live abundantly. But to call this Feast the Feast of Christ the Queen might raise some eyebrows, or just make everyone laugh hysterically. So we won’t go there.

One such typical king was Edward the 8th who almost reigned over the British Empire in the 1930s. The issue, at least in the news papers, was that “David,” as he was known to the family, wanted to marry an American divorcee by the name of Mrs. Simpson. And according to Canon Law, the King could not be married to a divorced woman nor be divorced himself. So, the King would have to abdicate. Behind closed doors, the real truth was that David was an ardent admirer of the little square mustached dictator in Germany and wanted Britain to enter the coming war on the side of the Axis powers. Cosmo Lang, the Archbishop of Canterbury, an ardent loather of Hitler and National Socialism would have none of it. The divorce was a good excuse. But David would be a Nazi King over the Archbishop’s dead body. And so, things were diplomatically resolved and David and Mrs. Simpson were married and moved to France. In this case, “moved” means exiled.

This left his younger brother, George, to ascend the throne. Now, George, or Bertie as he was known to his family since one of his Christian names was Albert after his great-great grandfather, the Prince Consort to Queen Victoria, hadn’t been raised to assume royal duties as the King. He’d been raised to cut ribbons and christen ships and the last thing he really wanted was to be King of anything. He was an extreme introvert with a speech impediment who probably suffered from some sort of anxiety disorder which was neither diagnosed nor treated in those days. Fortunately, he’d married Elizabeth Bowes Lyons, the daughter of a Scottish aristocrat, who was a gracious and gregarious woman and whom we all grew to love as the Queen Mum. With their two daughters, one of which now sits on the British Throne to this day, before all the controversy their future was one of quiet royalty living in peace and doing things that the royals do. But now, this timid man with the stutter was to be King. And he wasn’t too happy about it. But, then, what could he do?

In September of 1940, the Luftwaffe began nightly air raids over London which lasted for eight months. At first, the raids had their benefit. Initially, the blitz was aimed at the industrial sections of London which had once been residential. Here were situated many Churches whose congregations had long since moved away. But by law, each Church still needed to be staffed by a paid Vicar. With the blitz, the Churches were gone and Archbishop Lang was relieved that his budget had been freed up a bit. But other than this, there were no benefits especially once the Luftwaffe began its onslaught upon the civilian population in residential districts. The devastation was massive and the cost in human lives unbearable. But each morning, the residents of London, with that stiff upper lip, would come up from the Underground and begin the process of cleaning up the mess and mourning the dead.

Now, you must know that the staff of Buckingham Palace is very tight lipped about what goes on within the Royal Family. They are very protective their employers but occasionally a story leaks out. The story is told that one night the bombings had been particularly fierce. Large residential areas lay smoldering in ruins. At 7 O’clock in the morning, the Queen entered the Royal Bed Chamber and said, “Bertie, there’s been a bombing. Bertie? Where are you?” The reply came, “I’m under the bed.” “What on earth are you doing there?” “I heard the bombs dropping and figured it was safer down here.” The valets coaxed his Majesty out from under the bed and as they began to get him dressed the Queen looked at him and said, “Now, Bertie, the people are bad off. They need us. They need you. You are their king. And we must be with them now. It won’t be easy for you, so you’ll have to be strong. It is our duty.” Bertie wasn’t thrilled but he knew his beloved wife was right. Within a half an hour, the Bentley was winding its way through the streets of London.

The news reels from that time are overwhelmingly moving. They show the Bentley driving into a street, the homes nothing more than heaps of smoldering bricks and broken glass. Finally the Bentley slows and stops. The chauffer emerges and opens the back passenger door. And the first thing you see is a white glove extended and a middle aged woman with a very big hat teeming with feathers gets out. Immediately she’s shaking hands with the locals, offering them her condolences and the comfort only a mother can give. And then, like a deer in the headlights, emerges a man in a long military coat and officer’s hat. It’s the King. His wife gently pulls him from the car and introduces him to her newly made friends. This is no photo op. This is real life. And the news reel ends with the Queen’s right arm over the shoulders of a local woman in an apron, her hair in a top not. The Queen is smiling, giving hope to those who really need it. And the King is there and he knows he is where he needs to be.

This is a monarch worthy of the metaphor of the Feast of Christ the King. This is a monarch worthy of this morning’s Gospel reading. Here is a monarch – the wife of a monarch really – willing to forgo the protocol of centuries to be with the least of these, the members of her family. And here is the queen, the power behind the throne, giving her husband the love and nurture he needs to be the King his people need him to be.

But there is no metaphor when it comes to the real image of Christ the King. It’s the truth. It’s fact which no one can doubt; that in the blitzes of our own lives, it is Christ the King, even Christ the Queen Mum, who comes to us and emerges from the Bentley and wraps her arms around us – and we are not alone. It is this King that meets us where we are, warts and all, who smiles at the camera and gives us the courage to meet the challenge of the present and move into the future with hope and love. And it is this King, this Christ, who calls us then to go into the world to feed the hungry and clothe the naked; to visit the prisoners and embrace the outcast; to love the unlovable and sit with the lonely; because we know that these people are not just people, but they are Christ himself.

Now that I think of it, and I’ve preached this sermon, maybe the Feast of Christ the King has something to it for King Jesus is no tyrant. Nor is he an opportunist trying to assert his power. No, this King Jesus rules with the iron rod of peace and mercy, of compassion and joy. This King Jesus comes down from the throne and not only dwells among us, but lives vibrantly within us. Look at the person seated next to you. She or he is Christ himself. Treat him or her as you would any great monarch. And when you are confronted with the poor and the neglected, the cranky and the sometimes unlovable, bow in deep respect for your are in the presence of your Lord, the One we know as Jesus Christ our Lord.

Amen.