Saint Matthias the Apostle

 

The Collect

Almighty God, who in the place of Judas chose your faithful servant Matthias to be numbered among the Twelve: Grant that your Church, being delivered from false apostles, may always be guided and governed by faithful and true pastors; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you, in the unity of the Holy Spirit, one God, now and for ever. Amen.

The Psalm
15

The Readings
Acts 1:1-15     +     Philippians 3:13-21     +     John 15:1,6-16

". . . I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father. You did not choose me but I chose you. And I appointed you to go and bear fruit, fruit that will last . . ."
~John 15:15-16

In our home we have a prayer corner. It is a designated space for family or individual prayer, Bible reading, or just being. The corner includes a number of icons--holy images of Christ and the saints such as have been venerated by generations of Christians as aides and companions in prayer. Among these is the first icon I ever received--a small image known as Christ Pantokrator ("Almighty" or "Ruler of All"). In this particular version (there are many such icons, with varying details), Christ is seated with an open book, and on the page can be read a portion from today's Gospel: "Ye have not chosen me, but I have chosen you."

It is, perhaps, a puzzling statement. The setting is the Last Supper, and Jesus is speaking here to the disciples, his closest friends and companions. Did they not indeed choose Jesus, in deciding to follow him? Well, yes, they did. But their decision to follow Jesus was a response to his call. Christ's work and action preceded their own--he chose them before they even knew.

This is how it is for each of us. No matter the circumstance, God has always been present and at work in our lives, even before we knew. Our part is always that of response to the grace-filled work of Christ that is already there. As the First Letter of John puts it, in a passage that bears overtones of today's Gospel, we love, because he first loved us (I John 4:19).

The small icon of Christ that hangs in our prayer corner was given to me by a family friend when I was a young boy. I actually don't remember receiving it, so in my mind it has always been with me. It is an image that bears the truth of Christ's call and claim on me before I even knew what or how to answer. On one level, of course, that was the work of my family and friends. But that is also how Christ works, in and through us, to draw us and others ever closer to himself.

Consider your own life in Christ. Can you look back and see places where God was at work in you before you even knew? Consider also your response to God's loving work--what fruit are you bearing in your life?


Closing Prayer
Lord Jesus, thank you for calling us friends, and for revealing the very life and love of your Father to us; give us wisdom to know your presence with us now, as always, that our lives may bear the fruit of salvation. Amen.

Ash Wednesday

The Collect
Almighty and everlasting God, you hate nothing you have made and forgive the sins of all who are penitent: Create and make in us new and contrite hearts, that we, worthily lamenting our sins and acknowledging our wretchedness, may obtain of you, the God of all mercy, perfect remission and forgiveness; through Jesus Christ our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever. Amen.


The Readings
Isaiah 58:1-12     +     Psalm 103     +     2 Corinthians 5:20-6:10     +     Matthew 6:1-6,16-21


A sermon for Ash Wednesday, 2021, by the Rev. Gerri Endicott

Today we are invited to enter into a Holy Lent.  To begin our annual Lenten journey – although in ways it seems like the continuation of a year-long Lenten marathon.  I recall that last years’ Ash Wednesday - the last time I participated in the Eucharist in both kinds – we were on the cusp of pandemic shut-downs.  Uncertain of what the future would bring, and certainly never anticipating the extent of the twists and turns and changes we would endure, and are still experiencing.

As with most things this year, our Ash Wednesday observance is different this time around.  For the first time in memory, today I will not kneel in supplication before the altar as an ashen cross is imposed on my forehead with the words “remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return”. 

I will not wander through life the remainder of the day, mindful that the visible cross (or smudge) on my forehead is not for others to see and think I am somehow more holy than they, but to remind me of who, and whose I am, and that it is my charge, perhaps even burden, to carry my mortality and sinfulness, while at the same time Jesus’s divinity and perfection, into the world.

If we read the rubrics – the italicized instructions – in the Book of Common Prayer, we will see that the imposition of ashes, although customary and particularly meaningful, is not necessary.  IF ashes are to be imposed, it reads.  The ashes serve as an outward sign and reminder of something that already dwells deep within each of us.  We can and will enter a Holy Lent this year, ashes imposed not by clergy, but at home with our families - or no ashes at all. 

Let’s remember what defines this Lenten period:  Self-examination, repentance, prayer, fasting, self-denial, reading and meditating on God’s word.  The ashes remind us of our mortality – a reminder that is likely already fresh on our minds.  It is the work of Lent, not the ashes, that we are called to at this time.

As I write these thoughts, I do so watching the weather reports, uncertain as to whether or not I will be able to deliver them.  I realize that, even if ultimately they are only for me, I am fed by them.  It’s Monday, and I hear the sleet hitting the window.  Looking out I see a sound absorbing blanket of snow and ice, with far more predicted to come.

While I enjoy the cold, damp, bone-chilling weather from the comfort of my warm, dry home, I am mindful of those who are exposed to the elements – especially those affected by poverty, mental illness, addiction, and homelessness.    I remember the winter clothing, gloves, hats, and blankets we here at Holy Apostles donated only a couple of weeks ago, and trust that they are enveloping those in need in their warmth and protection, bringing at least some measure of relief.   I pray that all will find shelter, comfort, and respite.  

 I am reminded that Lent is a time for quiet introspection.  There is never a time when we are not to do our work in the world, but Lent is a time set aside when we are called to do so especially quietly and intentionally – each of us working internally on examination of what it is to live out our lives in Christ.

Last year at Ash Wednesday, we were at the beginning of pandemic, this year there is a glimpse of light at the end of the tunnel.  We’re not there yet, but we’re on our way.  Each year Lent rolls around, but we know that Easter always comes.  We, as followers of Christ, are accustomed to living in the “in-between”, the “not yet”.  The cycles of life – the life, ministry, death and resurrection of Jesus, and our lives of service in Christ’s name, informed by the example he provided for us.  For we are both Lenten and Easter people.

In the Ash Wednesday litany, we admit to and unburden ourselves of our sins, so that we can live a life in forgiveness.  God forgives us, and we forgive others in order that we may experience the freedom of doing God’s work in the world unburdened by those oh so human feelings of unworthiness that seem to sneak up on us.  It is in repentance that we are freed to do the work set before us.

Let us with clear conscience, contrite hearts, and true repentance enter this Holy Lent.  May our studies, disciplines, and self-examinations cleanse us and empower us to follow the example of our Lord and Savior as we walk with him through the cross and into resurrection and new life.

Amen.