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SUNDAY SERVICE - Audio Recording  Luke 2:41–52 - Growing in Wisdom and Grace
At the beginning of a new year, we often reflect on where we have been and where we are going. In today’s reading from Luke, we find a young 12 year old Jesus, caught in that in-between space between childhood and adulthood, between the familiar and the unknown. The story invites us to consider our own journey, how we navigate growth, how we seek understanding, and respond to the divine spark within us. In the Gospel narrative, Jesus, at age twelve, stays behind in Jerusalem, immersed in the temple among the teachers. When his parents return in search of him, Mary’s question: “Why have you treated us like this?” echoes the concern of every parent or caregiver or guardian watching a loved one step beyond the bounds of the expected. And so as the young Jesus, sits in the temple, listening, questioning and learning, he begins breaking away from the familiar patterns of his life. His questions are not about maintaining the way things have always been but rather about seeking truth, even if it challenges the assumptions of those around him. Jesus’ response: “Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” is as mysterious as it is profound for his parents who struggle to understand. It signals a shift within Jesus, a dawning awareness of his deeper purpose in life. On this the first Sunday of the New Year this story offers us a powerful metaphor for the spiritual journey. At times, we too find ourselves being moved beyond familiar patterns, drawn toward something greater than ourselves, even when it disrupts the comfort of those around us. The call of our deeper truer nature, our deeper purpose, can unsettle others and even ourselves, but it is part of what it means to grow. Thomas Keating once wrote that, “The greatest sin is the refusal to grow.” This warning speaks particularly to adulthood, where our ideas and beliefs often become rigid and fossilized. In adulthood there is the danger of becoming cynical and jaded, feeling like, because we have been around the block a few times, we now know exactly what to expect from life and how life works. Is it any wonder that for many adults, the magic of life and living feels like it is gone. But what if we don’t yet know the whole truth? What if, as St Paul says, we indeed only see in part and that in fact there is more here to see and understand? And so this Gospel story of the 12 year old Jesus in the Temple becomes an invitation to reflect on our own growth inviting us to reflect around four things - Firstly, Seeking God in the Temple or the Inner Sanctuary of the Heart– In the story Jesus stays behind in the Temple while his parents travelled back to Nazareth. But the outward temple of Jerusalem was always only a symbol of the inner temple of the heart that all of us must seek to enter if we are to grow in wisdom and grace. At the beginning of this New Year are we willing to spend time like Jesus in the temple of the heart or the inner sanctuary of the spirit where God dwells and were the seeds of God’s Spirit within us can be tended and nurtured? Secondly, the passage invites us to find companions who can help us to grow. In the story, when Jesus’ parents find him, not only is he in the temple, but he is seated amongst the teachers in the temple courts. He situates himself among those from whom he can learn. Within the Buddhist tradition there is a story of the Buddha’s disciple Ananda who once remarked that good companionship is half of the holy life. But the Buddha corrected him saying: “No, Ananda, good companionship is the whole of the holy life.” Who are the companions in our lives who stretch us and challenge us to grow, inspiring us with greater love and wisdom? Thirdly, the passage invites us to grow by deepening our listening. In verse 46, when his parents find him sitting with the teachers in the temple courts, the first word that describes what Jesus does is ‘Listening’. Listening is an essential ingredient for any form of growth or learning. Henri Nouwen once said that "Listening is much more than allowing another to talk while waiting for a chance to respond.” To listen deeply is to become open and attentive. Listening is the quality that opens the heart to another’s truth and another’s being. It is the quality that rests in stillness, welcoming what is unsaid as much as what is spoken. Listening is the quality that hears beyond words, that temporarily suspends judgment in order to find new understanding. Listening is the quality that creates space in which new possibilities, new perspectives and new insights, can be discovered. And listening requires humility and attentiveness. It calls for stillness and patience. Fourthly, not only is Jesus sitting amongst the teachers listening, He is also asking questions. Little children remind us of the importance of asking questions in order to grow in understanding. Questioning is essential if we are to grow, but Christianity has not always given space for people to ask questions. It is one of the gifts of the Non-Subscribing Presbyterian Church that it’s members are not asked to accept unquestioningly what the minister preaches from the pulpit, nor are they asked to accept unquestioningly a set of second hand doctrines handed down to them. Questioning in our tradition is to be encouraged. Albert Einstein once said that "The important thing is not to stop questioning. Never lose a holy curiosity." When we cease to be curious, asking probing questions we stop growing. Thich Nhat Hanh the Vietnamese Zen teacher writes: "Sometimes the questions are more important than the answers, for the questions keep us present, humble, and open." This is echoed in the words of Bertrand Russell who once said "The whole problem with the world is that fools and fanatics are always so certain of themselves, and wiser people so full of doubts." As our questions and doubts keep us humble, present and open, one could also say questions keep us trusting in a Higher Wisdom. There is something bigger at work than our egoic thinking. As the Gospel story comes to an end, Jesus does not remain in the Temple. He returns to Nazareth, to the ordinary rhythms of life, where he will need to integrate his spiritual insights into daily living. This is the balance we are all called to embody, drawing strength from the inner sanctuary while engaging fully with the responsibilities of the world. At the beginning of the this New Year, whether we choose to make resolutions or not, may we simply allow ourselves to be open to continue learning and growing. Like the boy Jesus in the Temple, may we seek moments when we can enter the temple of the heart, the inner sanctuary of the spirit where God dwells. May we spend time with companions who stretch us and challenge our assumptions and grow our understanding. May we practice the art of deep listening being open and attentive to life and to those that we meet. And may we nurture a holy curiosity, asking probing questions that keep us open and humble and thus truly wise. Amen. TODAY'S SERVICE - AUDIO RECORDING  THE CAROL SERVICE AUDIO RECORDING -  Matt 1:18-25 Choosing Love over Fear
As we light the fourth Advent candle, the candle of Love, we turn to Matthew 1:18-25, the story of Joseph’s dream. As with the other passages we have been reflecting on, this story provides a universal metaphor for how the Divine breaks into our lives and our world. Beneath its surface lies a profound invitation: to embody love—a love that is courageous and compassionate. In the story, Joseph is faced with a dilemma. Mary, to whom he is betrothed, is found to be with child. According to the accepted cultural customs of the time, Joseph could have chosen to distance himself from Mary, preserving his honour and fulfilling the expectations of society. Instead, Joseph listens deeply. He opens his heart to a voice beyond his fear and pride—the voice of God, the Divine, the voice of possibility, the voice of Love itself. The angel in the dream whispers, “Do not be afraid.” And Joseph, in a moment of surrender, chooses love over fear. He chooses to stand by Mary, to embrace the unexpected, to welcome life unfolding in a way he had never imagined or planned. What does it mean for us to choose love in our own lives? Love is often portrayed as gentle and sentimental, but Joseph’s story reminds us that true love requires great courage. Love calls us to move beyond our fear, fear of judgment, fear of what others might think or say, fear of vulnerability, fear of the unknown, and to trust in a Greater Wisdom unfolding in the midst of what may feel sometimes like a world of chaos. In these moments, Love calls us to stand beside others when it would be easier to turn away. It calls us to choose compassion over respectability. It invites us to accept the mystery of life even when we cannot see the full picture. And so, in this Advent season, as we are reminded of the Infinite Love of God shining upon a fragile world, lost in the darkness of human fear, pride, cruelty and violence, we ask ourselves: Where are we being called to choose love? Where might we set aside our fears, our pride, or our doubts to make room for something greater? The story of Joseph reminds us that love is an active choice, not just a feeling. As we are touched by that Divine Love and Light that has been revealed in the Christ-child, love should become something we do, something we live, something we participate in. Like Joseph in the story, when we choose love, we make space for new life, new possibilities, and new hope – for the Christ-child to be born again into the world. Amen. The Audio Recording of Beany and Sheenie's Nutivity Quiz
Luke 1:57-80 - Joy in a Fragile World
Advent is a season of waiting, and anticipation. In this fragile world, where uncertainty and fear often cloud our vision, the Advent theme of Joy invites us to pause and contemplate a deeper truth. In Luke 1:57-80, after the story of the annunciation and Mary’s visit to Elizabeth, we read of he story of the birth John the Baptist and Zechariah’s prophetic song. Again, the narrative is more than a single moment in time. It is a universal metaphor for how the divine speaks into the fragile, human places of our lives bringing joy into the world. The narrative begins with Elizabeth’s miraculous pregnancy in her old age reaching its culmination as she gives birth to her son John the Baptist. Her neighbours and relatives rejoice with her, not just because a child is born, but because they perceive in this event the hand of something greater. Every birth, every new beginning, reminds us of life’s sacredness, even in a world that often feels broken. A few weeks ago in church I mentioned a quote that every new baby born into the world is a reminder that God has not given up on humanity. But sometimes there is born into the world those who will profoundly shape and change the world… those who will make a huge impact on the world for the better. The birth of John the Baptist in Luke’s narrative is one of those moments. Zechariah’s story echoes and amplifies this joy of Elizabeth and her companions. His silence, imposed earlier in the narrative because of his disbelief, ends when he names his son John, in obedience to the angel’s message. In that moment, his tongue is freed, and he bursts into song—what is often called the Benedictus. Zechariah’s song is a hymn of liberation, a proclamation of joy rooted in the fulfilment of ancient promises. He sees his son not just as a child but as one who will prepare the way for transformation, for a world redeemed by love and light. This is a joy that transcends his own personal happiness. It is the joy of hope breaking through a collective despair. As Zechariah finds his voice again, he sings of healing, wholeness, forgiveness, and peace, breaking through into a fragile world. His words remind us that joy is not an escape from the world’s fragility but a courageous and defiant embrace of its potential to be renewed and transformed. This Advent, it feels like our world is more fragile than ever. Yet Advent reminds us to seek joy not as an avoidance of these realities but as a response to them. Joy, like the light of the Advent candles, begins small and tentative but grows as we nurture it. It is found in the small, courageous acts of love and kindness, in the willingness to believe in a better world even when evidence is hard to find. Zechariah’s prophecy closes with a promise: the dawn from on high will break upon us, guiding our feet into the way of peace. On this third Sunday of Advent may we light the candle of Joy in our hearts so that in the midst of a fragile world joy rise like the dawn, guiding our feet into the way of God’s Peace. Amen. A Radical Vision of Peace - Luke 1:39-56
The second Sunday in Advent, with the lighting of the second advent candle, invites us to reflect on the theme of peace—not a superficial calm, but a profound and transformative peace that transforms individual human hearts and goes on to reshape the very fabric of our world. It is a peace born of a radical love for others. Nowhere is this vision clearer than in the Magnificat, Mary’s song of praise in Luke 1 as she bursts into song at meeting her cousin Elizabeth. Mary has just learned that she is pregnant. The first thing she does is go on a road trip into the hill country to meet with her beloved cousin Elizabeth. The news cannot be contained in her own heart. It needs to be shared with someone special. Someone she trusts. Someone who will not reject her because she is not yet married. Someone whose heart is big enough to embrace her in this in this moment of both joy and crisis. The bond between Elizabeth and Mary is tangible. There is a shared intuition between them. Elizabeth’s own heart leaps within her at the arrival of Mary and at the same time, the child in her womb leaps as well. She senses that something deeply significant for the world is unfolding in Mary’s life and growing in her womb. Blessed are you among women and blessed is the fruit of your womb. And in response, Mary bursts spontaneously into song. The opening passages of Luke’s Gospel read a little bit like a musical. But the song of Mary is no lullaby; it is in fact quite a radical manifesto of love. It is a bold declaration that peace comes not through preserving the status quo but through a radical reordering of society on the principles of love, bringing justice and balance to a world fractured by inequality under the Roman Empire and a corrupt and patriarchal Jewish hierarchy – a symbol of all corrupt and patriarchal religious institutions in this world that undermine the ways of love and peace while pretending to be righteous and religious on the outside. Mary’s visit to Elizabeth is thus more than just a meeting of relatives. It is a quiet revolution of love and kindness, a coming together of two women baring within them the seeds of profound change for the world they live in. A change that begins from within. Elizabeth bares within herself the seed of John the Baptist who will call people to a radical change in their lives. Mary bears within her womb the seed of Jesus – the King of Love. And in their exchange, we see a glimpse of the conditions for real peace that Mary proclaims. It is a peace born in community and solidarity between two marginalised women, where the lowly are lifted up, and where hope for a better world is rekindled. Elizabeth’s affirmation of Mary—“Blessed are you among women”—is an act of courage in itself. It recognizes that peace begins in the margins, where the world’s forgotten and oppressed find their voices. This setting prepares us for the song of Mary, which shifts our focus from the personal to a new vision of hope and peace for the world born of reverence to the God of Goodness and Love. Mary’s Magnificat is not merely a hymn of gratitude; it is a proclamation of God’s justice breaking into the world. “He has brought down the powerful from their thrones and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich away empty.” These are not abstract ideas—they are a call to reimagine society. This is peace as justice, peace as a realignment of power and resources. In a world where the few hold much and the many struggle, Mary’s words are a challenge to all systems of oppression and exclusion that leave people marginalised and powerless, unable to fulfil the potential that God has placed within them. They remind us that true peace cannot exist without addressing inequality or without actively seeking to the flourishing of those at the bottom of society. As Khalil Gibran wrote, “You shall be free indeed when your days are not without a care nor your nights without a want and a grief, but rather when these things girdle your life and yet you rise above them unbound.” Peace is not the absence of struggle but the presence of justice and dignity for all and the vision of devoting our lives to creating value in the world. Mary’s song also envisions balance, a restoration of harmony to a world out of sync. The proud are humbled, and the humble are lifted up. The hungry are fed, and the rich are emptied. This is not about punishment; it is about healing fractured societies that are out of balance and out of harmony with themselves. It is the recognition that a society in which resources and power are hoarded by a few is not only unjust but unstable. The hoarding of wealth undermines the harmony and stability of society. It is a well known fact that those societies that are the most unequal in the world also have the greatest levels of crime and violence. And so we ignore the needs of those at the bottom of society at our own peril. And the flourishing of those at the bottom of society is for the benefit and harmony of the whole. The Dhammapada teaches, “Hatred is never appeased by hatred in this world. By non-hatred alone is hatred appeased. This is a law eternal.” Mary’s vision aligns with this truth: the peace she sings of is not born of retribution but of restoration. It is a peace that seeks the flourishing of all, not just a privileged few. In our fragile world, the Song of Mary remains profoundly relevant. We see its echoes in movements for economic justice, environmental stewardship, and human rights. Mary’s vision calls us to ask: Where are the hungry in our world today? Who are the lowly waiting to be lifted up? What are the places of imbalance in the world today where balance needs to be restored? And what is our role in this work of peace? John O’Donohue offers this wisdom: “May the light of your soul bless the work you do with the secret love and warmth of your heart. May you see in what you do the beauty of your own soul.” I think these were words that Gavin Byrne used in his sermon last week. The Song of Mary invites us to see our work for peace as sacred, to recognize that even small acts of kindness and courage contribute to a larger transformation. Jesus suggests that even the smallest act of deep and genuine love and care for others (especially the lowly and marginalised) is like leaven that causes the whole dough to rise. And so as we light the second candle of Advent – the candle of Peace, not just on our Advent wreathe, but even more so as we light it in our hearts, may we remember that peace is not passive. It is a bold, radical act of love for others. It calls us to move beyond our own limited and narrow self-interest. It calls us to challenge systems of inequality, to lift up the lowly, to feed the hungry, and to create spaces where balance can be restored and where all can flourish. And so in the spirit of Mary’s song, may we be peacemakers this advent. Not merely wishing for a better world but actively participating in building one. May we, like Mary, sing songs of justice and joy, trusting that the seeds we plant today will grow into a harvest of hope and harmony into the future. May we remember that no seed of love planted in the world is ever too small to make a difference… even if it as small as a mustard seed. |
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