Epiphany is one of the major seasons in the church's liturgical calendar. It is a time of reflection on the revelation of Jesus. Following our celebration of the advent of Jesus, born to Mary on the first Christmas so long ago in Bethlehem, we take time to reflect on who this person is that we call Christ/Messiah.
Some Christians might suggest that it is already quite clear who Jesus is. Yes, the confession of Jesus as Lord and Saviour of humanity is central to the Christian faith; this is clear. But the question of Epiphany seeks to go deeper than mere propositional statements, however true they might be. Epiphany is a time to contemplate the revelation of God in Christ, a God shrouded in mystery, a God brought near and revealed in the person of Jesus of Nazareth.
In the Gospel accounts we find this very question being asked wherever Jesus goes. St. Luke tells us of how Jesus rebukes the wind and the waves and calms the sea. Upon seeing this, those with him exclaim: "Who then is this, that He commands even the winds and the water, and they obey Him?". Rumours abounded during Jesus' time regarding the answer to this very question. Some thought him to be John the Baptist returned from the dead, or Elijah, or another prophet of old. When Jesus asks his disciples pointedly, "who do you say that I am?", Matthew tells us that St. Peter responded thus: "You are the Christ, the son of the living God!". Truly this has been the Church's confession ever since. But it is interesting to see how for hundreds of years following his death and resurrection, the Church struggled to understand how this Jesus of Nazareth, whom she worshiped as God, could be both a man and God. Four centuries and four ecumenical (i.e. world-wide) councils later, she had finally come to understand how this could be so.
During the season of Epiphany (or Theophany for our Eastern brothers and sisters) we take on this challenge, we seek to answer the question of Jesus: 'who do you say that I am?'. This need not be the theological journey that the Church took in those early years. Instead, we travel the journey of the heart as it seeks the face of this God-man, as it seeks to understand and experience this Saviour. We travel this journey on our knees in prayer; we travel this journey on our feet as we go about our daily tasks; we travel this journey together as a people of faith worshiping the crucified Lord. Through the revelation of Jesus found in the proclamation of Scripture, in the reciting of creeds and confessions, and in the life of the Church meeting with Christ himself at the Eucharist feast, we learn anew each year who he is.
During this season we hear the voice of Jesus of Nazareth asking each of us, "who do you say that I am?".
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Tuesday, January 12, 2010
Thoughts on Fatherhood: thinking ahead...
I don't have any children. One day, Lord willing, my wife and I will have little ones of our own. And though these children of ours are still to come, it seems to me that they have already begun to exert an influence over my thoughts and actions.
I think of my father and our time together so long ago. I think of what he was like and the legacy he has left me with long after his passing. I remember the words he spoke and the works he undertook. I remember his faults and his failings. I know that he loved me very much.
In many ways he was a very good father. He loved his children and sought to teach us what he felt we needed to know for life. I remember the many afternoons when he would subject me to 'helping' him work on the car or dig in the garden. He built the fence in the front yard and planted the hedge in front of our house. He fixed pipes, built a swing set, sifted the entire backyard to remove the rocks for a huge garden. He built a brick walkway around the house into the backyard. As he went about these tasks he took his children along to watch, to participate, and to learn. He told us stories about his past, about his memories as a child, about many things. He explained to us the importance of family and of standing beside each other. He read to us and prayed with us when he tucked us into bed each night. He worked hard to be a father and to raise his children.
As the thought of me being a father slowly inches closer to being reality, I find my thoughts often drift back to those days with my father, being dragged from task to task and story to story, learning how to be a man from his example and words. I find myself wondering what kind of father I will be for our children. I have no doubts that my dear wife will make an excellent mother when the time comes: she comes from great stock and from everything I can deduce had a great example in her mother. I watch her and know that she will also be a great example to our children of how to be a woman: she is hard working, caring, embraces life and knows how to love. What kind of father will I be? It has recently occurred to me that for me to be the kind of father I wish to be when we have children, I need to take seriously the kind of man I am right now. I need to make the positive changes in my life that I've been neglecting to make for so long. I need to be the example of what a man ought to be, not only when my children are watching, but also when they are not yet watching me - like now.
I know that I will not be a 'perfect' father (whatever that is supposed to mean). I'm not terribly worried about achieving any such thing. I know my father before me wasn't perfect. He had his shortcomings, his faults and failings. I know this and don't try to gloss over them as I consider his example of fatherhood. But I also know that he loved me and desired that I grow to be a man, a good man. He sought as best he could to teach me the important things of life. This will be my goal as a father. If my children grow to know that I loved them and learn to be men and women in the best sense of the terms, then I will have succeeded in my task of fatherhood.
For now my task is to be a man in the best sense of the term. Then, when our children arrive, I will be ready to be a father in the best sense of the term.
I wonder what they will be like?
N.B. One clarification for the sake of my dear wife: we are neither expecting nor planning anytime soon - do not inundate her with questions of impending pregnancy... ;)
I think of my father and our time together so long ago. I think of what he was like and the legacy he has left me with long after his passing. I remember the words he spoke and the works he undertook. I remember his faults and his failings. I know that he loved me very much.
In many ways he was a very good father. He loved his children and sought to teach us what he felt we needed to know for life. I remember the many afternoons when he would subject me to 'helping' him work on the car or dig in the garden. He built the fence in the front yard and planted the hedge in front of our house. He fixed pipes, built a swing set, sifted the entire backyard to remove the rocks for a huge garden. He built a brick walkway around the house into the backyard. As he went about these tasks he took his children along to watch, to participate, and to learn. He told us stories about his past, about his memories as a child, about many things. He explained to us the importance of family and of standing beside each other. He read to us and prayed with us when he tucked us into bed each night. He worked hard to be a father and to raise his children.
As the thought of me being a father slowly inches closer to being reality, I find my thoughts often drift back to those days with my father, being dragged from task to task and story to story, learning how to be a man from his example and words. I find myself wondering what kind of father I will be for our children. I have no doubts that my dear wife will make an excellent mother when the time comes: she comes from great stock and from everything I can deduce had a great example in her mother. I watch her and know that she will also be a great example to our children of how to be a woman: she is hard working, caring, embraces life and knows how to love. What kind of father will I be? It has recently occurred to me that for me to be the kind of father I wish to be when we have children, I need to take seriously the kind of man I am right now. I need to make the positive changes in my life that I've been neglecting to make for so long. I need to be the example of what a man ought to be, not only when my children are watching, but also when they are not yet watching me - like now.
I know that I will not be a 'perfect' father (whatever that is supposed to mean). I'm not terribly worried about achieving any such thing. I know my father before me wasn't perfect. He had his shortcomings, his faults and failings. I know this and don't try to gloss over them as I consider his example of fatherhood. But I also know that he loved me and desired that I grow to be a man, a good man. He sought as best he could to teach me the important things of life. This will be my goal as a father. If my children grow to know that I loved them and learn to be men and women in the best sense of the terms, then I will have succeeded in my task of fatherhood.
For now my task is to be a man in the best sense of the term. Then, when our children arrive, I will be ready to be a father in the best sense of the term.
I wonder what they will be like?
N.B. One clarification for the sake of my dear wife: we are neither expecting nor planning anytime soon - do not inundate her with questions of impending pregnancy... ;)
Sunday, January 10, 2010
Patristic Thoughts: On the infinite beauty of God..
Gregory of Nyssa (4th cent. theologian), in his commentary on The Song of Songs, presents to us the image of God as a spring bubbling out of the earth:
"As you came near the spring you would marvel, seeing that the water was endless, as it constantly gushed up and poured forth. Yet you could never say that you had seen all the water. How could you see what was still hidden in the bosom of the earth? Hence no matter how long you might stay at the spring you would always be beginning to see the water. For the water never stops flowing, and it is always beginning to bubble up again. It is the same with one who fixes his gaze on the infinite beauty of God. It is constantly being discovered anew, and it is always seen as something new and strange in comparison with what the mind has already understood. And as God continues to reveal himself, man continues to wonder; and he never exhausts his desire to see more, since what he is waiting for is always more magnificent, more divine, than all that he has already seen."
"As you came near the spring you would marvel, seeing that the water was endless, as it constantly gushed up and poured forth. Yet you could never say that you had seen all the water. How could you see what was still hidden in the bosom of the earth? Hence no matter how long you might stay at the spring you would always be beginning to see the water. For the water never stops flowing, and it is always beginning to bubble up again. It is the same with one who fixes his gaze on the infinite beauty of God. It is constantly being discovered anew, and it is always seen as something new and strange in comparison with what the mind has already understood. And as God continues to reveal himself, man continues to wonder; and he never exhausts his desire to see more, since what he is waiting for is always more magnificent, more divine, than all that he has already seen."
Tuesday, January 5, 2010
The thing about Mondays...
I guarantee, Monday will come; it always does.
I've heard many people lament how the weekend was good, but 'too short'. Alas, Monday arrives and the fun is apparently over. Don't get me wrong, I love Sundays. I'm not so much a weekend kind of fellow; but Sundays... they're my favourite. The best hour of my week is at church on Sunday morning. The next best hours are all those in between church and bedtime Sunday night. So, yes, I can relate to enjoying the weekend. But inevitably Monday always comes.
It seems to me that there are many people for whom the weekend is the goal of life. For this kind of person the work week is what you trudge through in order to enjoy the weekend. The weekend is where life happens. It's not just weekends though, there are also holidays and vacation time; but the principle seems to stand.
If you can't take some pleasure or satisfaction in the 'Mondays' of life (i.e. those days of work or study - daily life) what use is the weekend? The thing about weekends is that they always end; the thing about Mondays is that they always follow the weekend. We must find a way to find satisfaction or fulfillment of some kind in our everyday tasks. We must learn to value our 'Mondays' of life.
I've heard many people lament how the weekend was good, but 'too short'. Alas, Monday arrives and the fun is apparently over. Don't get me wrong, I love Sundays. I'm not so much a weekend kind of fellow; but Sundays... they're my favourite. The best hour of my week is at church on Sunday morning. The next best hours are all those in between church and bedtime Sunday night. So, yes, I can relate to enjoying the weekend. But inevitably Monday always comes.
It seems to me that there are many people for whom the weekend is the goal of life. For this kind of person the work week is what you trudge through in order to enjoy the weekend. The weekend is where life happens. It's not just weekends though, there are also holidays and vacation time; but the principle seems to stand.
If you can't take some pleasure or satisfaction in the 'Mondays' of life (i.e. those days of work or study - daily life) what use is the weekend? The thing about weekends is that they always end; the thing about Mondays is that they always follow the weekend. We must find a way to find satisfaction or fulfillment of some kind in our everyday tasks. We must learn to value our 'Mondays' of life.
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