January is a month of renewal and we are in the midst of many renewals and rebirths this weekend.
My novel in progress, The Music of the Mountain, seizes on these rebirths for it is set in the month of January 2023 with the floods, cyclone storms, and power outages of Northern California. In a way the story is baptized by these rains, and baptism indeed becomes a gateway to life, as our preacher said this morning. Baptism opens the door to salvation. Salvation doesn’t require baptism, but baptism makes the road to Heaven easier for each one of us.
Today’s Gospel account – the Baptism of Jesus by John – is chosen for the second Epiphanytide Sunday. For Epiphanytide shines light on the divinity of Jesus. St. Mark writes: “And it came to pass in those days that Jesus… was baptized of John in Jordan. And straightway coming up out of the water, he saw the heavens opened, and the Spirit, like a dove, descending upon him: and there came a voice from heaven, saying, ‘Thou art my beloved Son, in whom I am well pleased.’ ” (BCP 112)
John prepared the way, preaching repentance, for renewal and rebirth cannot occur without facing the reality of our world, the reality of human nature. Just so, America has woken up from being “woke” and is facing the reality of what we have become in the past and what we must do to ensure the future. We rise from the waters to seek the light of truth, how best to govern in a fallen world, how best to protect the weak in a fallen world, how best to care for the aged and the unborn in a fallen world.
America has been given another chance at life, having been champions of death. This week we remember the millions lost to abortion since 1973, our lost children of light. We pray for our nation that she will see the holocaust and redeem the time. Our tears are real, our grief unending.
We rise from darkness to light, to the music of the mountain, to the harmonies of the spheres that govern the universe, the songs of the angels.
We look to history to learn the words of the songs of freedom. We speak the truth about mankind as best we can, and in doing so we learn how to heal one another, and in the healing we learn how to love one another as Christ loves us.
And as America rises to this new day, she will see the heavens open. She will see the Spirit descend upon her like a dove, the dove of peace, the dove of life, and she will glimpse God the Father once again.
America will once again cherish children, honor motherhood, support families, and enforce the law. She will judge with mercy and care for the poor.
Merit and character will be celebrated and awarded, regardless of race or ethnicity. She will be truly colorblind.
And so it is appropriate that the inauguration of this renewal of America will occur on the day honoring Martin Luther King. For King gave us a dream, saying, “I look to a day when people will be not be judged by the color of their skin but by content of their character.”
God is writing straight with our crooked lines as he raises us from the waters of self, reminding us to love as we have been taught to love, following the commandments given to Moses and renewed by Christ as he walked among us two thousand years ago. For Our Lord continues to walk among us, in his Body, the Church, baptizing us again and again with sacrament and scripture and song. His Holy Spirit lives within us. We need merely see, hear, and obey to be renewed and reborn.

Are we part of a church community, one that welcomes us on board to sail the seas of our time? For community is one of the pillars found in Holy Scripture – community that teaches us, feeds us, leads us through the rough waters. It is the church family that gives us the songs to sing, the prayers to pray, the eucharists to strengthen our hearts and souls.
We are in the middle of Christmastide, those twelve glorious days of Christmas ending on Epiphany, January 6.
And we try to be like the angels and sing to him in his manger. We sing of the miracle and mystery of that unlikely birth, we harken to the herald angels singing glory to the newborn king, we sing of a silent and holy night when away in the manger there was no crib for his bed, we tell of the little town of Bethlehem and what happened on that midnight clear when the glorious song of old was heard as angels touched their harps of gold, for Christ is born of Mary, and while mortals sleep, the stars proclaim the birth and peace to men on earth.
We teach our children the songs, so that they will teach their children. To help them remember, we dress them to play parts in a stable in Bethlehem. We clothe them with the story of the Christ Child. They act out the greatest story ever told, and each year they add to their own library of Christmas rituals and traditions.
There is the silent hush of valley fog enshrouding our house today. The mute world waits, hoping for a sign. A sign of what? A sign of life, life everlasting, before and to come. A sign that we are more than flesh, more than animals on the hunt to survive.
Today is Gaudete Sunday, or Rose Sunday, and Heaven Sunday too. The Third Sunday in Advent is rich with meaning as we prepare for Christmas and the Incarnation of God, come to us to live with us and in us. Such miracle and mystery often astounds me.
“Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say, rejoice. Let your forbearance be known to all, for the Lord is near at hand; have no anxiety about anything, but in all things, by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be known to God.” (Wikipedia)
orld of faith, hope, love, and joy. It sounds too good to be true, but it’s true.
We light our three candles today, including the rose candle, and we recall our ultimate destination, Heaven. As we do, we experience a moment of Heaven on Earth. The candles flame, testifying to the Lord of Lords to come, to be born on Earth and reborn in our hearts.
The opening prayer that collected our small flock together on this brilliantly clear morning in a chapel in Berkeley was the “Collect for the Second Sunday in Advent”:
Advent’s daily prayer begins with “Almighty God, give us grace that we may cast away the works of darkness, and put upon us the armour of light…”. To memorize this prayer is to digest it, to send our words to God, expressing our need for re-forming, re-creating. And even as we pray the words, we become clothed in a protective garment, an armour of light, lighting the darkness.
Today is also the theme of Judgment. We shall be judged. The world shall be judged. But Christ takes our part if we desire Him; we are forgiven if we repent. And so we return to words – words to instruct our conscience, learning right and wrong, law and love. Holy Scripture becomes the textbook that teaches us where we have gone wrong, returning us to who we are and are meant to be. We need merely pray our words to Our Lord to be changed, to be redeemed, to be saved.
The nights have been clear and cold here in the Bay Area. We can see the stars and I reach to touch them, they seem so close. Advent is the time of stars in the heavens. Advent is when we follow the star to Christmas. We reach and we follow the star.
These are big things, subjects we would rather avoid. Especially judgment. We define deviancy down and further down, so that we can deny judging anyone and thus not be judged ourselves. And yet we know deep within there is a moral law all mankind senses, reckoning that a standard has been set, a standard we don’t meet. And with law there is judgment.
We light our first Advent candle in our Advent wreathe. It is only one small flame in the dark, but it will light the others, each week, until we see the light of Bethlehem, the light of the world, the light of Christ.
It is good we practiced gratitude for our blessings this past week. Gratitude humbles us. Gratitude says, we owe something to someone else. Indeed. We owe much to those giants that have preserved the West, and fought for our freedoms through war and peace. We owe much to our local church, filled with good souls who try to love us. We owe much to our own families who try to put up with us. We owe much to Our Lord who gave us life itself and continues to breathe life into each day we live.
We begin at the beginning, the first day of the Church Year. In this new year we open the gates of Jerusalem – and our hearts – to the Messiah as our Gospel reading describes. Today the story begins, and each one of us will play a vital part in the greatest drama of all, life overcoming death, eternally, minute by minute.
