Saint John the Evangelist observed, May 7th, 2023
Genesis 1:1-5, 12-19; 1 John 1:1-9; Psalm 92:1-2, 11-14; John 20:1-8
God is light
St. John the Evangelist—the patron saint of our parish, and the person whom we credit for writing John’s Gospel—is often represented as an eagle. Like the eagle on our crest, which you can see on our bulletin; like the eagle lectern you can see shining brightly beside me; like in our newsletter, called “On Eagle’s Wings.”
Now there is a particular thing that the translators of the Bible have done over the years. Many of the passages we know as passages about eagles, were originally, actually, passages about vultures. So Isaiah 40, for example, “But they that wait upon the Lord will renew their strength, they shall mount up with wings as eagles”: should most literally read “they shall mount up with wings as vultures.”
This was pointed out by one of the members of our Young(ish) Adults group with great mirth. Rest assured that in this case, though, no need to worry! The passage that is used to associate John with an eagle does indeed use the Greek word for eagle, not the word for vulture.
So there will be no need to replace our crest with one that has a vulture on it; to buy a new brass lectern, replacing our beautifully polished eagle with a beautifully polished vulture; or for that matter, to begin to call our newsletter “On Vulture’s Wings.”
(The reason though that these two birds became associated was for good reason: it was because they are both birds that fly high above. But the translators of the Bible, knowing that when we hear “vulture,” we hear “bird that eats dead things.” So they went with another bird that also flies high—the eagle.)
St. Augustine draws these things together, the eagle that flies high above, and St. John the Evangelist, when he says, in this quite arresting quote about John and his Gospel: “the Evangelist John, like an eagle, takes a loftier flight, and soars above the dark mist of the earth to gaze with steadier eyes upon the light of truth.”
And considering this, how lovely it is to call our newsletter “On Eagle’s Wings,” to imagine our reflections on parish and congregational life as though our life together were carried above by a more reliable creature than ourselves alone—that congregational and parish life is carried aloft by none other than St. John the Evangelist himself, bringing our reflections to a point of clarity won by the more comprehensive perspective of John’s Gospel.
It’s quite arresting, isn’t it, to imagine the author of John’s Gospel as an eagle in this way—soaring above the darkness and tumult of this world as a way not quite to escape the world and its problems (no matter what St Augustine himself might have meant)—soaring above, in heavenly light, in order that he might gaze upon things most clearly. And so that perhaps we, too, especially through John’s Gospel, might imagine ourselves borne up on the wings of and eagle, on the wings of St. John the Evangelist, so that we too, with John’s help, might gaze upon all things in light divine.
There’s a good bit of whimsy in celebrating a feast like we are today. To take a moment to reflect on ourselves as a parish, but not like we do around the time of our annual meeting. Vestry takes itself much more seriously than we need to take ourselves today—though we can do the same sort of thing, on a patronal festival, that we would do at an annual meeting.
Today we have no business to do at all, but to worship, to pray, and to imagine what it means to have St. John the Evangelist—the author of John’s Gospel, and a saint represented by an eagle—as a figure that has something to do with who we are together as a parish, and as a worshipping congregation. And I’d like to suggest the following two whimsical notions about who we are today, on this feast of St. John the Evangelist: first, that we are called to soar and rise on the heights with the help of St. John the Eagle, and to gaze upon all things as they shine in the divine light; and secondly, that though we may soar the heights of contemplation, this is not in order to escape what Augustine calls the “dark mists of the earth,” but in order that we might see all things most clearly as they are: as already caught up in God’s work in the world, being transformed, and already being gathered up into God’s light.
One of the features of John’s Gospel is that the evil and darkness of the world is being drawn up and into the divine drama of the world’s redemption in Jesus. John’s Gospel can help us see the way in which God’s light, perceived most clearly on the heights and the wings of John, begins to dissipate the darkness—as our motto suggests.
(You are forgiven if you haven’t a speck of latin by the way, but now you will know our motto, as it is written on our crest: “lux in tenebris lucet”—“light shines in the darkness,” it’s from the first chapter of John’s Gospel: the light shines in the darkness—and as John continues, the darkness did not overcome [the light].)
Light is an important metaphor for John, and we see it in the readings. Mary Magdalene runs to the tomb in the darkness, finding an empty tomb, awaiting the light of the resurrected Jesus to appear; John’s First Letter goes so far to call God light; “God is light and in him there is no darkness at all,” we read in that letter. John’s Gospel provides Gregory of Nazianzus, one of the most important of Church Fathers, a way of speaking of the Trinity in terms of light: Gregory calls God, as Trinity, light from light in light.
St. John the Evangelist, though, wants to make sure we know that this light, the divine light that is God, that is Jesus, that is the Holy Spirit, is a light that is overcoming the darkness. There is darkness, to which we can all attest in many different sorts of ways; but this darkness is being overcome, steadily, and surely. In John’s Gospel, the overcoming of darkness goes a bit like this: “In the betrayal, arrest, trial, and death of Jesus, humanity’s self-destructive schemes are taken up into God’s gracious grand design.” In the Garden of Gethsemane, as he is being arrested, Jesus reveals his divine identity, saying: “I am he.” To Caiaphas, at his trial, Jesus testifies that he has always told the truth about himself. Pilate, Jesus’s unrighteous judge, calls Jesus the King of the Jews. And on the cross Jesus most truly reveals his “identity and destiny,” revealing himself on the cross as the one drawing all people, all things, to himself—revealing and glorifying God.
This betrayal, arrest, and death, at first, “seems disastrous to the bereft disciples, [but] the reverse is actually the case.” Jesus is resurrected; and when he “reappears, [Jesus] is acknowledged as ‘Lord and God.’”
Jesus, in John’s Gospel, in the midst of trauma and pain, and even through that trauma and pain, is dispelling and defeating the darkness simply by being himself—light from light in light. And as the light, all those things that are in the darkness are shown for what they really are: as people, and things, that are already being drawn into the light, and transformed in the light according to God’s promise. And what might this means for us, as we take this whimsical flight upon the wings of the eagle that is John the Evangelist? Well—we have nothing to fear. The dark mists are being drawn up and away in the light—even our pain, even our trauma.
And for this, we give thanks for St. John the Evangelist, and John’s Gospel, for helping us to see most clearly the light that dispels the darkness, and to see most clearly that the darkness does not, and cannot overcome the light of God: light from light in light; in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. AMEN.
Quotes are from S. A. Cummins article on John’s Gospel in the Dictionary for Theological Interpretation of the Bible, edited by Kevin J. Vanhoozer.
The Revd Cannon Dr Preston Parsons
Angus Sinclair was appointed Director of Music of St. John the Evangelist on February 1, 2023. Having graduated in 1981 (Honours B.Mus.) in organ performance from Wilfrid Laurier University, he went on to distinguish himself as a church musician, recitalist and accompanist touring in both Canada and the UK. For over 40 years Angus has served parishes and congregations throughout Southwestern Ontario as director of music. He experiences his present appointment to St. John’s as a welcome homecoming, both spiritually and musically.
As our parish musician, he provides both support and leadership so that a variety of parish programs can find musical expression and attract participation. When our handbell choir is in season, he is one of our ringers. At parish dinners, he provides popular piano music for the guests to dine by. For both worship services and concerts, he will rehearse and accompany vocal and instrumental soloists from our congregation on piano, organ, or even accordion.
Angus Sinclair was appointed Director of Music of St. John the Evangelist on February 1, 2023. Having graduated in 1981 (Honours B.Mus.) in organ performance from Wilfrid Laurier University, he went on to distinguish himself as a church musician, recitalist and accompanist touring in both Canada and the UK. For over 40 years Angus has served parishes and congregations throughout Southwestern Ontario as director of music. He experiences his present appointment to St. John’s as a welcome homecoming, both spiritually and musically.