In this brief passage, my attention was drawn to the line, “the Gentiles have become fellow heirs… sharers in the promise in Christ Jesus through the Gospel”. I wondered about the meaning of “fellow heirs”, and with some research I found that the original Greek word, sygklēronomos, is usually used to describe “one who obtains something assigned to himself with others — a joint participant” (Blue Letter Bible).

Joint participation strikes me as a beautiful way to describe the communion we are called to as members of the Church, and it also challenges my heart to actively work against my own tendency towards individualism. Selfishly, I read this and at first glance I wondered, “what am I inheriting?”, when I should be asking, “what are we inheriting?”.

Christ’s promise, communicated and achieved through the Gospel, is salvation, to enable our participation in the life and love of the Holy Trinity. This is what ought to motivate us in our efforts to evangelize and build community. In reading this passage, I feel a call to expand my heart — to widen it and become more open to receiving and welcoming others, just as God the Father opened His heart to allow Gentiles to have the rights to His inheritance in the same way as the Jewish people.

All throughout Jesus’ ministry we hear this message — the Kingdom of God is open to many. The stranger, the outcast, the poor, the forgotten, the rejected, and all in the world are invited to the wedding banquet; Christ grants us access to all the good that belongs to Him by virtue of His sonship, despite our unworthiness. We receive it, not based on merit or efforts to perfectly fulfill the law, but, because He chose to make us sharers and joint participants in the glory of His life, death, and resurrection.
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Today, let us ask the Holy Spirit to continually remind us of how we share in Christ’s promise, and to help us understand the joint nature of this gift which reveals our communal nature and identity as Church.




Kendra L.

The psalmist today expresses a desire for peace. In the chaotic, everchanging, sometimes disappointing, and often confusing environment we find ourselves in, I think many of us are often looking for a source and a sense of peace. I think I could have written that and it would have been true at any point in my adult life (and lots of other times too), but this desire for peace seems particularly pressing at the end of 2020. In a year of so much upheaval, uncertainty, disappointment, loss, and suffering, peace can seem pretty far from us.
 
We close out the year by celebrating the birth of Jesus at Christmas. God came into the world in the most surprising way, not as a mighty and powerful ruler, but as a poor, helpless baby. And He came into the world to tell us that He loved us, all of us. Throughout His life, peace is one of Jesus’ trademarks. Long before He was born, the prophet Isaiah said that He would be called “Prince of Peace.”

I once heard a Christmas homily where the priest talked about how desperately we need a Prince of Peace – in our world, in our countries, in our communities, in our homes, and in our hearts. This was true twenty years ago when I first heard this Christmas message and it is true today. Maybe it’s even more accurate and applicable today? At least, it seems that way for me. In the midst of so much uncertainty, we are invited to let Jesus be the Prince of Peace for us. 

I’m not sure I really know what peace means. I know it does not mean that we will escape conflict, uncertainty, or pain. I think it is more about having an anchoring and a steadiness when we encounter those things. God saw the brokenness and pain of the world and chose to enter into it, as Jesus, and break Himself for it. Jesus came into the world to tell us that we are known, we are loved, and we are held. When peace feels like the farthest thing from our minds and from our experiences, we are invited to hold onto these promises. It doesn’t seem like it will be enough and yet, somehow, it is.
 
Praise God. Thanks be to God.


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Morgan M.

When it’s had a large impression on me in the past, it’s hard to see a passage of the Bible like it’s new — to react to what God wants me to see today.  


A few years and a couple of churches ago, in a worship service, this passage fell on me like a ton of bricks. I think I may even have shouted it out over a musical interlude. Maybe somebody handed me a mic. It was that kind of place. I remember sitting down shaking afterward. And crying. From inside this little church in the north end, it felt like I was shouting it out from a high place, from Citadel Hill over the whole city. Shouting to Halifax: "Arise, shine, for your light has come!" This sense that our place was significant. That there was something happening here; that God was afoot here — shining — drawing nations to this small corner of Eastern Canada. Bringing a richness of new life to His Church. Bringing a wealth of His children coming home, to Him, full of radiance and new life. It was a tiny little church, less than 50 people.


Shortly after that I ended up attending DR16 with my husband. Funny story around that. He’s Mennonite and was studying at Tyndale Seminary, so I filled out on the registration form that he was a seminarian; that way he could attend the extra day. The net result was he walked around the conference wearing a ‘Father Barry’ name tag. Someone even asked him if he wanted to go vest-up prior to Mass. This was around when I first found Saint Benedict Parish. I had been sitting in Mass hearing all the stories of people in the parish and Jesus for the last month — sons and daughters coming home to Him, full of radiance and new life. Now at the first conference held by Divine Renovation — a parish renewal ministry that grew out of, and outgrew, Saint Benedict Parish — I was seeing something else. Nations being drawn to this small corner of Eastern Canada — a richness of new life spreading to His Church. The prayers of that tiny charismatic church in the north end were coming true a stone’s throw away, and they didn’t even know it. But God knew it. He didn’t see a Catholic, and an Anabaptist and a Protestant church in this city. He saw His Church. Like we say in the creed — one holy, catholic, and apostolic Church. Funny, with the small ‘c’, it means something bigger — universal. We are one, whether we know it or not.


So. Today. This passage. A jumble of words that dance around a pulse of light. The call to arise and shine is personal. It’s not the Church Universal, or the city of Halifax,  it’s me.  


Arise
Shine
Glory
Appear
Look
Gather
Radiant
Rejoice


All I can SEE is the JOY — because my Light has come and I am happily adrift in Him. Veni Jesu! 




​Noreen Smith

What an example of obedience and trust the Holy Family gives us. Everything about this Gospel message demonstrates obedience to the Lord. Last Sunday we saw how Mary gave up her will for her life and accepted God’s will, despite not fully understanding what was happening or what was to come. She trusted in God’s promise. We know that Mary did not require purification, nor was a “sin offering” of sacrifice required on behalf of Jesus, yet they took Jesus to the temple in obedience. And because they were obedient, the Lord’s servant Simeon experienced the tangible outcome of a promise the Lord had made to him. Simeon had been waiting faithfully for the “consolation of Israel,” which means comfort, help, rescue. He had been in a period of spiritual waiting, resting with the Holy Spirit, so that he could die in peace, confident that the comfort, help, and rescue for the world had come. Simeon had lived in expectant hope, and his faithfulness was rewarded when he held Jesus in his arms and presented God with His own Son in the temple. Simeon then prepared Mary for what was to come and confirmed the Lord’s plan that her unconditional yes to the Lord would cause her immeasurable suffering. Even so, we know that Mary (and Joseph!) still stuck to their yes — returning home where together they raised the Son of God.


I have often thought about the obedience and faith of Mary and Joseph in those early years.  Any of us who have experienced the miracle of children in some capacity in our lives know how utterly dependent they are on the adults around them to protect, nurture, and guide them. I picture Jesus being carried in Mary’s arms as Joseph led them to safety on the journey into Egypt. Mary and Joseph were the models of wise and conscientious parents — listening to directions and warnings from angels — completely oblivious to the personal cost ahead for them because they were intent on protecting their child.


Saying yes to God does not mean my life will be perfect and serene; that I will understand everything that is happening; or that I will not experience challenges or pain. Mary’s heart was pierced. She experienced great pain and sorrow. Simeon had to live his life in waiting for a promise made to him. Joseph was subject to gossip and ridicule. Yet they each said yes, knowing that they were called to trust God and to share Christ with others. Their trust and their yes would be for the greater good of the whole world.


Can I be as obedient and trusting as Mary, Joseph, and Simeon? Will I risk the pain, discomfort, stigma? Am I willing to embark on a journey with nothing but trust that the Lord has a plan?
I pray for the courage to give an unconditional yes to these questions, and look to Mary, Joseph, and Simeon as models. My yes may make a difference to someone else; the way Mary and Joseph’s yes made a difference to Simeon and the whole world. It is because of their obedience that Jesus remains the comfort, help, and rescue for the world today.


Lord, help me to say yes to You and Your ways, despite any challenges or obstacles that “yes” may present in my life. Let me live in expectant hope and sure knowledge that my obedience to You will shine a light into the dark recesses of this world, and bring the comfort, help, and rescue to the world that only You can bring. Amen.




Sandy Graves