This is Our Story


Episcopalians celebrate The Feast of the Holy Name of our Lord Jesus Christ on January 1st, the eighth day after Jesus’ birth.  It was on this day that Mosaic law stipulated that male children were named and circumcised.  This feast was retitled in our 1979 Book of Common Prayer as it was previously celebrated as the Feast of the Circumcision.  The change in the feast’s nomenclature paralleled Luke’s (Luke 2:21) stress on the naming of Jesus.  Celebration of the feast dates from the Middle Ages, but it was not moved to January 1 by the Catholic Church until 2002.  The Church of England celebrates the Name of Jesus on August 7th while retaining January 1st as the Feast of the Circumcision.  Jesus is from the Hebrew “Joshua” meaning “Yahweh is salvation”.  Devotion to the Holy Name of Jesus is derived from Phillipians 2:9-11, which states that God “gave him (Jesus) the name that is above every name, so that at the name of Jesus every knee should bend, in heaven and on earth and under the earth.”  This epistle lesson is always read on Palm Sunday, and some Anglo-Catholics acknowledge the word “bend” with a genuflection.

~ Dr. Gil Haas, Saint Augustine of Canterbury Episcopal Church, Oklahoma City, Oklahoma 

A Sermon Delivered by
The Reverend Joseph C. Alsay
St. Augustine of Canterbury Episcopal Church, OKC
Advent IV, Year C
 
Micah 5:2-5a & Luke 1:29-55
 
“Sing, Sing a Song”
 
As we embark upon these last days of Advent and scurry to prepare for the festive celebrations of Christmas one can’t help but notice that you are bombarded with the sounds of the season. Be it the familiar sounds of Bing Crosby singing “Silver Bells” or the Mormon Tabernacle Choir featured on OETA. There’s music in the air.
 
What would this time of the year be like if there were no music?
 
The joyous sounds of melodious voices blending in perfect harmony have a way of transporting us from winter’s cold, long and dark nights to a place of warm and sweet rapture. Music just has a way of doing that does it not? It truly is the universal language expressing our deepest longing in a way that our sometimes limited spoken words fail to achieve.
 
Now if that is true for us today, how true that must have been for predecessors who lived in ancient cultures that were totally dependent upon the “oral tradition” to exist. 
 
Alan Cohen, who is the author of several self-help books, details in his book “The Heart of Wisdom” that when a woman in a certain African tribe knows she is pregnant, she goes out into the wilderness with a few friends and together they sit under a tree to listen, pray and meditate until they hear the SONG of the child who wants to come into being. Upon return the midwives and elder women of the village teach the song to everyone else. 

When the child is born, the community gathers and sings the child's song to him or her. Later, when the child enters education, reaches puberty, and gets married the village gathers and chants the child's song. 

Finally, when the soul is about to pass from this world to the next, the family and friends gather at the person's bed, just as they did at birth, and they sing the song for the last time. 
 
 

Today's Gospel tells us of a pregnant woman who sings a SONG -- a SONG about her child, who he is, and who he will become.
 
Mary's song is her response to her cousin Elizabeth's spirited greeting, but it is more than that. It comes from deep inside her. It knits together in a new way the sacred experience and language and hope of her people like pieces of a quilt transformed from scraps to splendor.
 
Nowhere in this song do we hear the name of her child, but somehow he is there in every phrase. Mary's song is not hers alone; it is the song of the child who wants to come and who comes to do the will of God through his life, death, and exaltation. The song celebrates the God who keeps promises -- not only to Abraham, but to everyone.
 
It is no wonder the Church has picked up this central song - the Magnificat, Mary’s Song and sings it often, particularly in daily evening worship. Who knows what number of settings musicians have composed for it through the years? Who knows how many voices have joined with Mary’s in singing her song through the centuries?
 
For this is the song about Jesus sung by the human being who knew him best, influenced him most, who cradled him in her arms at birth and faithfully held him in her arms after death.
 
 
It is the Magnificat - that dares to announce that God scatters the prideful, dethrones the powerful, and drives away the rich.
 
 
It is the God of the Magnificat – that takes sides, lifting up the lowly, providing a feast for the destitute.
 
 
It is the Magnificat - which points to a redemption achieved once for all, but that continues to unfold wherever the Good News takes root. Yes, the radical overthrow of oppression that Mary's song proclaims turns out to be a “song of revolution.”
 
Richard Horsley writes in his book “The Liberation of Christmas: The Infancy Narratives in Social Context” that this hymn is not so much a pious prayer: as it is a revolutionary song of salvation.
 
A revolutionary song of salvation not unlike, “We Shall Overcome”, Bob Dylan’s “Blowin in the Wind”, Marvin Gaye’s “What’s Going On”, John Lennon’s “Give Peace a Chance” and others sung in the 60’s, when seemingly lowly groups of people in this country sought to overthrow the violence, oppression and injustice that had come upon them. 
 
My friends, if the truth be told, each of us sings a song from deep inside, a song about the future.
 
What we sing with our lives, will become our legacy for those who follow after us.
 
Mary's Song is our song because she invites us all to join in the song of the God who loves us enough to come to us-to the most barren, the most unnoticed, the very least of us-and plants in us, and in our world, God's own life, God's own hope, and God's own promises of peace.
 
So, what will our song be? When I was a child there was a song that I would listen to when I watched Sesame Street penned by the musical group the Carpenter’s. It was called “Sing, Sing A Song”
 
 
Some of you who were around back in the 70’s might remember the lyrics.
 
Sing, sing a song
Sing out loud, sing out strong
Sing of good things not bad
Sing of happy not sad

Sing, sing a song 
Let the world sing along
Sing of love there could be 
Sing for you and for me.

Sing. Sing a song.
Make it simple to last your whole life long.
Don´t worry that it´s not good enough for anyone else to hear.
Just sing.
Sing a song.


​

 Blue Christmas
Fr. Tony Moon, Saint Augustine of Canterbury Episcopal Church
​Oklahoma City, Oklahoma
Sunday, December 19, 2021, 5:00 p.m.
John (14:1-7)
 
This service of Blue Christmas has not been around in churches for too many years… seems like I only heard about Blue Christmas services within the past ten years or so. Of course, the name, Blue Christmas, goes back to the old Elvis Presley song. Separated from his love and feeling down and blue, Elvis’ smooth voice tells just how blue he is! His feeling blue penetrates everything! He’s even seeing blue snowflakes, having blue memories, and even having a blue heartache! This guy’s got it bad, as he’s having a blue, blue, blue, blue Christmas. (Incidentally, Elvis’ recording was most popular, but it was recorded by many others, from Ernest Tubb to the Beach Boys.)
Trivia aside, Blue Christmas captures a tone for those of us who are marching to a different drummer this time of year. While our culture presses us into a frenzy of shopping and parties and cooking and decorating and attending the kid’s Christmas programs… some of us honestly just aren’t there. Due to some life circumstance, we just aren’t in a place to be wound up and set loose in a dozen different frantic directions so we can attack Christmas! We honestly can’t be enticed to engage “the joy of the season.”
Intellectually, we may know there is plenty to be joyous about… especially in God’s gift of a Son, a Redeemer of the World, who taught us to love and care for others and for ourselves, and then gave himself for us, a sacrifice for all. And before he departed from this world, this Redeemer gave us a gift when Jesus invites us Christ followers to become his body on this earth, to carry on Jesus’ own work of compassion, forgiveness and love. Wonderful to think about—us having this esteemed place as part of the Body of Christ, part of this “Christ project” carrying on the work of Jesus today, carrying the message of Jesus forward to the next generations. While we can get it into our heads, our hearts still may be lagging behind. Our hearts, which are so tender and affected by the world, may at this time be turned inward, shielding themselves from the bright Christmas lights, the sparkling glitter, and the loud Christmas music of the malls. Maybe, just maybe our hearts cannot keep up with our heads; maybe our hearts need some extra space, some extra care and tending at this time. And by your being here this evening, I think you are being honest enough with yourself to say that’s true. And I embrace and appreciate that honesty.
In today’s Gospel (celebrating the Feast of St. Thomas this evening, and normally observed next Tuesday), we meet another honest character. Jesus is speaking to his followers (us included), and he tells these followers not to be troubled. Jesus asks them to believe in God and believe in himself. Jesus tells them that he is going on ahead of us to prepare a place for us—a sign of Jesus’ nurture, care and love for us. Jesus tells his disciples “I’ll go and you will follow.” But this honest guy Thomas couldn’t make sense of what Jesus was saying. Thomas raised the question, “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” To this question, Jesus did not chide or reject Thomas. Instead, Jesus answered Thomas directly: “I am the way.”
Jesus treated Thomas with dignity and respect at another encounter we read about in the Gospels when, after Jesus’ death and resurrection, Jesus appears to his disciples—minus Thomas who was away. Upon Thomas’ return, the apostles are excited to tell Thomas about their amazing visit with the risen Jesus. Thomas remarks that he will not believe them until he puts his fingers into Jesus’ wounds. Soon, Jesus returns and invites Thomas, doubting Thomas, to do just that. At this, Thomas believes. He falls to his knees and exclaims, “My Lord and my God!” This is said to be the first time one of the disciples asserted the divinity of Jesus.
I think Thomas’ disbelief and his grounded honesty were treasured by Jesus. I believe the same is true with you, as well. I think Jesus loves you just the way you are right now. We don’t have to pretend that everything is alright with Jesus. Jesus loves us for who we are; for our struggles and heartache; for the real pain that this human existence can cause our tender hearts. I believe this is true because Jesus lived this existence. In Jesus’ human experience, without a doubt, Jesus felt many of the same pains and troubles we have—and many more than we glimpse in the brief records of our sacred texts. Jesus experienced more than weeping at the death of his friend Lazarus; more than the pain stirred by his compassion for the suffering he witnessed around him daily in those who were ill, lost and marginalized; more than the sorrow he felt watching his own beloved mother while he hung dying on a cross. It is good for us to remember that Jesus is with us in solidarity as we encounter all the struggles and pains of our lives.
It is also good to recall that in Jesus there is hope. That we can turn to Jesus—and to his followers in this Body of Christ—and be honest about ourselves with Jesus and his followers. We can talk with Jesus and his followers and be patient, knowing that we’ll be heard. We can also be patient and listen for a response of support, encouragement or guidance. Simply remembering without any doubt, that God loves us just as we are can help ease the pain. Connecting with Jesus and others daily is probably best…because just as with any relationship, if we connect only once in a while, the relationship probably won’t amount to much. Steady connection is what bears good fruit in relationships. As we learn to trust, we can be assured that Jesus is working on our behalf, even without our knowledge and even amidst life’s toughest circumstances.
For all of its “force,” I think it’s OK to take this season one day at a time, or even one hour at a time if needed. I think it’s OK to be who you are, where you are. I don’t think you have to change yourself for the season, but maybe let the season adapt to you. What can Christmas be for me this year? Maybe it’s different from other years. Maybe you have a different focus this year, stripping the season down to its basic elements: What does Christmas most mean to me this year… maybe simply recognizing that a person who was such a fierce lover at every turn was born into the world 2000 years ago and because of his unyielding and unconditional love is still having an effect on the world today. And then we can bring this meaning of Christmas to a more personal level, and ask ourselves, “How will I let the love, compassion and forgiveness of Jesus guide my own thoughts and actions today?”
Taking Christmas to its basics reminds me of a story of a young Catholic man who went away to seminary many years ago. He recalled that during his first year there, he was required to stay on campus at Christmas. Part of his formation was to separate himself from his family for that first year. And, because everything was taken care of there, he had no money for gifts for family, friends or professors. In many ways, that Christmas was like none he’d experienced before. Without the parties, decorating and distractions of Christmas, this young seminarian was afforded time to focus on a truer meaning of Christmas than he’d ever experienced before. His focus was not only on the anniversary of a birth of our Savior; his focus more deeply penetrated how he was birthing Christ into his life and into his world. Looking back to his novice year in seminary, the old priest recalled that he’d never again had the luxury of such a clear experience of Christmas since.
Tonight, let us cast our cares on to a powerful God who knows our human condition inside-out, and whose arms are open wide to accept us, to greet and comfort us; imagine this God of compassion taking on our cares and loving us in return.
Amen.
 
John (14:1-7)
4 “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Believe in God, believe also in me. 2 In my Father’s house there are many dwelling places. If it were not so, would I have told you that I go to prepare a place for you? 3 And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come again and will take you to myself, so that where I am, there you may be also. 4 And you know the way to the place where I am going.” 5 Thomas said to him, “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” 6 Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. 7 If you know me, you will know my Father also. From now on you do know him and have seen him.”
 

​Yesterday at 9 AM (CST), you could have enjoyed a live broadcast of the 2021 version of the original “A Festival of Nine Lessons and Carols” from King’s College, Cambridge, U.K., on KUCO (90.1 FM).  The attendees of the 3 PM (Cambridge time) service begin a queue at 9 AM.  The first Festival was in 1918, and some punsters believe that its original purpose was to lure men from pubs.  Since 1919, the service’s initial hymn is, “Once in Royal David’s City”.  The first verse is sung unaccompanied by a solo boy chorister who is not identified until immediately before the service to avoid putting him under undue stress.  WWII did not cancel the festival, although the hostilities forced the removal of the glass windows and sources of heat.  The story of humanity’s fall, the promise of the Messiah, and Jesus’ birth is told in nine Biblical readings interspersed with Christmas carols and hymns.  The nine lessons are read, respectively, by: a chorister, a choral scholar, a representative of Cambridge churches, a representative of the City of Cambridge, a representative of King’s College’s sister college at Eton, the Chaplain, the Director of Music, a fellow of the College, and the College’s Provost. 

~Dr. Gil Haas, Saint Augustine of Canterbury Episcopal Church, Oklahoma City, Oklahoma

If you have a liturgical question or an inquiry about anything that transpires during or around our worship service, please forward the question you would like researched to: gghaas@aol.com. Please note whether we can credit you as the source of the question.

​“Herod” is the name for multiple Biblical rulers.  Herod the Great slaughtered the male children after the Magi’s visit in hopes of killing Jesus (Matthew 2:16).  One of Herod the Great’s sons was Herod Antipas who, after Herod the Great’s death, ruled one-fourth of his father’s kingdom which gave him the descriptive title, Tetrarch (one who governs a kingdom’s fourth; this fourth included Galilee).  His marriage to his brother’s wife, Herodias, ultimately resulted in John the Baptist’s beheading.  Herod Archelaus, another son of Herod the Great, ruled Judea after his father’s death.  Herod Archelaus ruled with such cruelty that Joseph and Mary feared returning to Judea from Egypt, and instead they settled in Galilee (Matthew 2:22).  Since Herod Antipas ruled Galilee where Jesus had been most active, he was the Herod to whom Pilate sent Jesus during Jesus’ trial.  Herod Agrippa I was the grandson of Herod the Great; he persecuted the Church in Jerusalem and killed James, the first martyred apostle.  Herod Agrippa’s gruesome death is described in Acts 12:23.  His son, Herod Agrippa II, saved Paul from possible death at the hands of the Jewish rulers (Acts 25:13 - 26:32).


If you have a liturgical question or an inquiry about anything that transpires during or around our worship service, please forward the question you would like researched to: gghaas@aol.com. Please note whether we can credit you as the source of the question.

~Dr. Gil Haas, Saint Augustine of Canterbury Episcopal Church, Oklahoma City, Oklahoma

Page 18 of the Book of Common Prayer states that “The Ember Days, (are)
traditionally observed on the Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays after the First
Sunday in Lent, Holy Cross Day (September 14), December 13 (St. Lucy’s Day -
tomorrow), and the Day of Pentecost.” The name is a corruption of the Latin, quattuor
tempora (meaning “four times”). In third century Italy, the times were associated with
sowing, harvest, and vintage, for which the faithful prayed, fasted, and gave alms.
However, beginning in the twelve century, the days became occasions for the ordination
of priests and deacons for whom the Christian community prayed, and the candidates
for ordination prepared themselves by prayer and retreat. Our Book of Common Prayer
lists prayers “For the Ministry (Ember Days)” on pages 205-206. These prayers are
divided into “For those to be ordained”, “For the choice of fit persons for the ministry”,
and “For all Christians in their vocation”. Three lectionaries for these days are listed on
page 929. In recent times, Roman Catholics and Anglicans have been far less strict in
linking “Ember Days” and the ordinations with which they are associated with specific
days of the church’s year.

~Dr. Gil Haas, Saint Augustine of Canterbury Episcopal Church, Oklahoma City, Oklahoma

​A Sermon delivered by
the Reverend Joseph C. Alsay
on the
Second Sunday of Advent
St. Augustine of Canterbury Episcopal Church
​Oklahoma City, Oklahoma
 
“O Come, O Come, Emmanuel”
 
The Advent hymn we just sang, “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel,” goes back about 900 years, to the 12th century. But the texts on which this hymn is based go back a few centuries before that, even–maybe 1200 years ago or more. They are known as the Great “O” Antiphons, and you can see them displayed on our dossal, given in loving memory of Alice Norton.
What is an antiphon, you ask? An antiphon is a little framing verse that is sung before and after a canticle or a psalm. These O Antiphons were chanted before and after the Magnificat at Vespers during Advent. There are seven of them, and historically they were used over the last seven days before Christmas Eve Day, in other words, from December 17 through December 23.
Now look at the structure of these seven antiphons. Each one consists of three parts. First there is an address to Christ, using the vocative “O” and a biblical title to address him: “O Wisdom”: “O Adonai”; “O Root of Jesse”; “O Key of David”; “O Dayspring”; “O King of the nations”: and “O Emmanuel.” Now of course these O Antiphons originally were in Latin, which was the universal language of the church for most of Christian history. And so you can see the Latin titles, in order: “Sapientia”; “Adonai”; “Radix Jesse”; “Clavis David”; “Oriens”; “Rex Gentium”; and “Emmanuel.”
 
So the first part of each antiphon is the address of “O” and a title. The second part is a description of something about Christ that fits the title–for example, for “O Dayspring,” the words, “splendor of light everlasting,” amplifying that particular term. The third part of the antiphon, then, is a petition, a prayer to Christ, asking him to “Come” and do thus and such, whatever it is, in order to help us.
 
“Oh, well, now all that’s pretty interesting, Father,” you might say. “I learned something new today.” But friends, these O Antiphons are not merely some dusty artifacts from the distant past that you can know something about, in a detached sort of way. No, these are prayers you can use! For they address the living Christ, who still comes to help his people. Through these O Antiphons, we learn to know him more fully and to call upon him in faith.
 
 
 
 
 
December 17
O Wisdom of our God Most High,
guiding creation with power and love: You create the universe and hold all things together with strength and sweetness.                                                                                                                     Come to teach us the path of knowledge!
December 18
O Leader of the House of Israel,
giver of the Law to Moses on Sinai: You, who in Jesus fulfills the requirements of the law and teaches us the law of love.                                                                                                                      Come with your strong hand and stretch out your mighty arm to rescue us with your mighty power!  
December 19
O Root of Jesse’s stem,
you have been raised up as a sign for all peoples; kings fall silent before you; nations bow down and worship you. You are the sign of God’s love for all his people:                                                             Come to save us without delay!
December 20
O Key of David,
You open what no one else can close again; You, close no one can open. Open the gates of God’s eternal Kingdom:                                                                                                                           Come and free the prisoners of darkness!
December 21
O Radiant Dayspring, Dawn, or Rising Sun,
splendor of eternal light, sun of justice:                                                                                              Come and shine on those who dwell in darkness and in the shadow of death.
December 22
O King of all nations,                                                                                                                             whom all the peoples desire, and keystone of the Church:
Come and save the creature, whom you formed from the dust!
December 23
O Emmanuel, our King and Giver of Law:
Come to save us, Lord our God!
 
The order of the prayers is significant. Starting with the last title in reverse order, the first letter of each (Emmanuel, Rex, Oriens, Clavis, Radix, Adonai, Sapienta) forms an ACROSTIC: the Latin words Ero cras, which speak Jesus’ response and promise to us. “Tomorrow, I will come.”