Res Miranda
Homily delivered at Trinity Parish Ashland (Oregon)
24th December 2017: 6 p.m. and 11:00p.m. Sung Festal Eucharists
24th December 2017: 6 p.m. and 11:00p.m. Sung Festal Eucharists
The Rev. Fr. Anthony Hutchinson, SCP, Ph.D.
God, give us hearts to feel and love,
Take away our hearts of stone and give us hearts of flesh.
Amen.
Last Sunday, our Trinity Choir sang
a modern setting for a Medieval Carol to the Blessed Virgin:
As is the rose that bare Jesu; Alleluia.
For in this rose contained was
Heaven and earth in little space; Res miranda. (A thing to be marveled at)."
Heaven and earth in little space; Res miranda. (A thing to be marveled at)."
Marvel or wonder is
what Christmas is all about. At this
darkest time of the year, we put up lights on the streets, the shops, and our
houses, and try to drive the dark away.
We sing and listen to a wonderful special repertory of music set aside
for this time in all the year. We bring
in greens and flowers to our homes and churches to remind us that summer will
once again come. We open them to loved ones and strangers alike. We exchange gifts. We give extra support to those most in
need. Wonder is what Christmas is all
about.
The stories about why we celebrate Christmas, the ones read
in churches, are the ones most fraught with wonder, most freighted with joy.
Sometimes familiarity and repetition
of these stories means we don’t really hear them. But they are so strange that they stretch our
hearts and minds.
A young woman gives birth without
ever having been with a man?
Really?
Angels appear to her and her
intended husband, guiding them and reassuring them that this child is holy, the
fulfillment of people’s deepest hopes for justice and rescue? What are angels, anyway?
They appear to poor shepherds,
telling them to find this child in diapers snuggled in a feeding trough. They break into a joyful chorus praising
God. “Peace,” they sing. When has there ever been peace really?
Res Miranda. Wonder, wonder, wonder.
One of the great joys I have as a
priest is teaching and guiding people about faith, wonder, and joy.
A question I often hear is “How can
I have faith?” Sometimes even, “I don’t
really think I believe in a God. Does
that make me a bad person? And what point is there in the Church for someone
like me?” Or, “Making a living,
advancing my career, having a family and taking care of them—this is what
matters to me. But it seems not to be enough.”
Listening to others talk about their
doubts, their fears, and their hopes, tells me that we are all pretty much the
same on these important core issues of meaning and value. It’s all a question of how honest we are
willing to be about our hopes as well as our fears and doubts.
Faith is about trust, about openness. It is an orientation of the heart, not a
content of opinions.
When we say “I believe in God,” we
are not saying “I am of the opinion that an entity referred to as God exists.” The word believe
actually is related to the old Germanic word for heart, Lieb, and it means “give my heart to.” “I believe in God” actually means something like, “I trust
God,” or even, “within relationship with God, I love for all I’m worth.”
Faith is about wonder. It is about trust. It is about hope, having an optimism that in
the end all will be well; if all is not well, it is not yet the end.
These stories do not explain how
things happen, but point beyond to why things happen, to what end. Light shining in the darkness, the desire of
nations coming to us to save us, God taking on all that it means to be
human—these are images pointing to the heart of things.
The joy of a new baby’s birth is a
universal human experience. In this story of this baby born we move beyond joy to meaning. In this story of
light in the darkness, we feel warmth and
hope. In this story of a young woman
taking on the world for justice’s sake, despite censure and prudish critique,
we find courage.
Church, prayer, meditation, and
rules of life that bring focus to our service to others—all these are methods of training our
hearts to trust. Their purpose is to
open our hearts to the love that is already there at all times and in all
places.
As we celebrate Christmas, let us
remember to open our hearts to love and life.
Let us allow ourselves to feel, to wonder. In the words of the
carols, let us look upon this Res Miranda, this thing to be wondered
at. Let us listen to this silent night. Let us get up and follow that star, and tell
it on the mountain. Let “every heart
prepare him room, and heaven and nature sing.”
In the name of God, Amen.
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