[Father Thomas Martin]

http://www.rci.rutgers.edu/~lcrew/grits001226.html

On St. John's day, the presbyters had their fling, and there grew up in places the custom of blessing "St John's wine" from the tradition that John had been given a cup of poisoned wine that did him no harm, and Jesus had promised him he would tarry till he came again. Christians toasted each other "Drink one for the love of St. John"--and so the custom of one more for the road had its origin, for St. John's wine was drunk before a long journey, as insurance for a safe trip. It was also used as the last drink of the dying, after Viaticum. Some was taken from mass and a bit poured as a fermentum into every vat in the wine cellar, to hallow it all. Any child with the name of John or Joan was privileged to light the candles on the Christmas wreath or tree. Drink the love of John at your wassail this year. But the presence of Saint John's day here in Christmastide is especially significant because of his special place as the youthful disciple, still in his teens when he went to follow the Galilean rabbi. The Lord gave him a special place in his own life, sharing with his brother James and with Peter the special inner circle of disciples, sharing with them the special metamorphosis of his glory on the mount, commending his own mother to John's special care at the place of execution. So John is special in many ways--the morrass of historical analysis of the Johannine literature is not our concern here tonight--who actually wrote chapter seven of the gospel and who actually wrote chapter twenty-one, or is the same person the author of the gospel and was the author of the first epistle? Or is this the same John who wrote the apocalyhpse. Or was this the same John who was bishop of Ephesus and died in the year 100? What about Prester John and all the other legends? Our concern is to hear John's special message for us: a message that is the message of every Christmastide. First of all it is a message of Life and Light. John's gospel begins with the prologue, "In the beginning was the Word. . ." and goes on to regale us with Life, Light Power, Grace, Truth, Glory, Fulness. It is the primary Christian preaching, and if only one mass is celebrated on Christmas day, it is the first chapter of John which is read, not Luke's story about the manger, not Matthew's about the magi, but John's, a hymn to the eternal Logos, the Utterance of God who becomes flesh and bone and lives among us.
The Christmas gospel is not a lovely old story, "a cleverly devised fable," like Clement Clark Moore's (or whoever's) A Visit from St. Nicholas. It is not even a commemoration of a birth in poverty. It is not, as Thomas Merton wrote, "an old thing which happened long ago but a new thing which happens tonight." More than all the other writers, John was closest to our Jesus and had more time than any to ponder--not the events of that life, but its meaning. In John's gospel, the Christmas liturgy becomes an Easter liturgy, as do all liturgies. Death is conquered by this Birth. The tomb of humankind has been opened by the cry of this newborn. It is John who sees that Christ must be born in our hearts, for "to as many as received him he gave power to become children of God." The collect for today prays that the Church will be illumined by the brightness of this Christmas light. It is not private prayer, but liturgical prayer, and so for all Christian people to receive the illumination. John sees the connection so clearly, for "If we say we have koinonia with him, while we walk in darkness, we lie and do not live according to the truth, but if we walk in the light, as he is in the light, we have koinonia--mutual share-holding--commmon responsibilitie, common concerns--with one another and with Him."
Orthodoxy (right teaching, but at root right worship) is not enough. John would have us do Orthopraxy--justice work, doing it right. As Jesus put Peter in charge of the Church's business, so he put John in charge of the Church's purpose: LOVE. The theory and practice of Love. St. Augustine saw in Peter a symbol of the earthly church, and in John a symbol of the heavenly one. "The Church is familiar with two types of life," he wrote. "Both having been revealed and commended to her by God. The one exists through faith, the other through vision: the one implies a time of pilgrimage, the other provides an eternal home. The one means labor, the other brings rest, the one is an exile, the other a homeland; the one calls for acts of virtue, the other gives the reward of beatitude. The one turns away from evil and does good, the other has no evil to turn away from because it knows and enjoys only the good. The one struggles with the enemy, the other reigns with no foe about. The one helps the needy, where the other is there are no needy. The one forgives insults that its own way be forgiven, the other suffers nothing that need be forgiven and does nothing that calls for forgiveness. The one is encouraged by visitations that good fortune may not occasion pride, the other possesses the fulness of grace, is devoid of all evil and clings to the highest good without the least leaning to self-exaltation. The one life is good, yet full of misery; the other is better, replete with happiness. The former is typified by the apostle Peter, the latter by John. The former will continue to the end of the wrold and then ceaase, but the latter's fulfillment is postponed to the end of time and in the future world will know no end. Therefore to Peter it was said, 'Follow me', but of John: If I should will that he remain thus till I come, what is it to you?' Now what do these words mean? As far as I cn see and understand (says St. Augustine) they mean: 'Peter, you follow me, imitating me and enduring transitory sufferings, while you, John, remain until I make my everlasting appearance, bestowing rewards."
So as John's gospel itself has it, without naming himself: "The other disciple did outrun Peter." John is the long distance runner, and remembers that he outran the first pope.
And it is still the special love of John that outruns the huffing and puffing of Peter's church, built twixt a rock and a hard place. The epistle, from John's first letter, written to combat the Docetist heresy which denied Christ's full humanity, his complete human nature, which declared Jesus a phantom, a flesh-less spirit, who could be seanced up by Mother Eddy in a Boston parlor. John knew better, and had lain upon his breast. He knew Jesus' habits, his likes and dislikes, his taste for broiled fish and honeycomb for breakfast on the beach. He sat next to him at meals and must have heard him burp after the garlicky leg of lamb at Passover. He stood at the Cross and saw him bleed to death. The Docetist heresy flapped that moral endeavor on the part of believers was unnecessary because they were already "saved." John knew it was a continuing struggle.
"If spirituality is something separate from physicality, then the truth may be something believed but not practiced." But John knew Jesus, and knew him to be "together" -- a person whose physicality and spirituality were composed and resolved. There's no "spiritual resurrection" in John's gospel, nor in the epistles: "Put your hand in my wounds. Touch my side." "That which we have looked upon and felt with our hands. . . and the life was made manifest, and we saw it. . . this is what we proclaim to you."
Moses said to God, "I pray thee show me thy glory" and God said, "I will make my goodness pass before you. . . but you cannot see my face and live. So God hid Moses in a cleft of the rock, and hid him from his face." But John tells us now that we can indeed see the face of God and live. . . and shows us his face in Jesus, and behold we live. That life is ours, not to be hidden in a pigeon hole as Moses hid in to avoid the Vision. But God is Light and in God is no darkness at all, and John tells us that if we walk in the light, as Jesus is in the light, we have Koinonia with each other and the blood of Jesus cleanses us from all sin. Sin has no place in the church, John tells us, not because its members have not sinned or cannot sin, but because all have been forgiven. So Christmas will always include the Beloved Disciple and his clear and plain preaching, for his intimacy with Jesus made his preaching plain. Tradition has it that in his old age as Bishop of Ephesus, nearly a hundred years old, he wrote no more sermons but simply said over and over, "Children, love one another." His disciples were irked and wanted homilies at least as long as this one, and they asked him, "Why always the same thing?" and he replied, "Because it is the Lord's command, and if you did nothing more, it would suffice." Little children, have koinonia, have communism, have fellowship amongst yourselves. Because it is the Lord's command. It will suffice.
Christians of the middle ages piously believed that the Holy Innocents were those of whom St. John was speaking in the Apocalypse as the hundred and forty four thousand who sang "as it were a new song" before the throne of Christ: a song which no one could learn; these were they who would follow the Lamb whithersoever he goes, being firstfruits from among humankind. The Holy Innocents are witnesses to the sacredness of all human life, and stand for all the innocent martyrs for human liberty and human rights inside and outside the marked boundaries of the church's faith and hope. It is a human symphony, and the voice of many waters, and of a great thunder, and of hrpers harping with their harps, and singing a new song, and bidding us to follow the spotless Lamb who is himself the martyred Infant of Bethlehem.
Blessed be God in all the angels, and in all the saints.

So, I drink one for the love of St. John for you today, in hopes that you live well and eventually see the light!



WASSAIL!