Christmas Eve Sermon Thoughts

18 years ago we bundled up into our Dodge Caravan and drove from Eureka, California to Fort Wayne, Indiana with our 4 year old and 7 month old children.  It was not a pleasant drive for any of us — the youngest cut teeth the entire trip and would only be consoled by Mom — Mom suffered from kidney pain and dehydration the last two thirds to half of the trip — even the easy traveling 4 year old was out of patience — the weather in the plains and Midwest was painfully cold and our van had a terrible time staying warm — and once we finally got to Indiana there was a huge argument between me and another member of the family.  The much anticipated family trip for Christmas wasn’t turning out anywhere close to what I was imagining.  I wasn’t really in the mood for much of anything, but Dad and Betty wanted to take us to Christmas Eve services, so dutiful children that we are, we went to Church.  All I remember from the service is the candle lighting at the end and, more specifically, my father holding his, at the time, youngest grandchild up in the air, face glowing with candles and love, while singing Silent Night.  This Christmas Eve I am mindful of the joy and gratitude I felt this past October as grandfather embraced his grandchild once more, and in that embrace I could see the same love I witnessed that night 18 years ago.

All that to say, I am conscious of the reality that some of us come to Christmas Eve because we desire to celebrate the birth of the Child of Bethlehem with absolute heart-felt devotion, and some of us come to Christmas Eve as dutiful children.  For some there is enough comfort that we relate to those who had plenty of space at the Inn; for others the feeling of discomfort is such that there is no room or place for us at all.  Some of us have whole homes and families to return to, some do not.

And yet, into this reality, breaks the message of this day. This is what Luke is setting up with his text.  Into Caesar’s counting of his people: a child is born. While some families celebrate warm reunions facilitated by the Emperor’s census, one family gives birth surrounded by animals instead of loved ones. And, while Matthew’s birth narrative has star-gazing, philosopher kings visiting the Child of Bethlehem, Luke tells of shepherds…poor, sheep-gazing outsiders who visit Joseph and Mary and their baby.

It’s shepherds who come to the room that isn't really a room, to pay homage to the Child because they were the ones who received the good news first.  The first people to hear the message of the birth—or maybe just the first ones to notice and pay attention—were people who were considered social outsiders—ones for whom there was never any room, anywhere, except in fields at night, keeping watch over sheep.

One pastor says that it is probably safe to compare the shepherds of that day with day workers who stand in parking lots, waiting for someone to offer them a job that may or may not pay minimum wage (because they can’t really complain to anyone, can they?).  Shepherds were, more than likely, the poorest of the poor, left to guard flocks from nocturnal predators, knowing that it may take their life to protect the life of the flocks they have been hired to protect.  

To them the angel of God proclaims the birth of the Child of Bethlehem, saying, “Do not be afraid; for see—I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David, a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord…” 

“And suddenly,’ Luke says, “there was with the angel a multitude of heavenly host, praising God and saying, ‘Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom God favors!”

The first message of the Gospel is “Do not be afraid!”

If you have ever seen Charlie Brown’s Christmas Special you know that Linus is the one who delivers the Christmas narrative.  As the children and even Snoopy, laugh at Charlie Brown, and his choice of the odd little tree, and as Charlie cries out in frustration, he asks, “Everything I do turns into a disaster; I guess I don’t know what Christmas is all about. Isn’t there anyone who knows what Christmas is all about?”  Linus says, “I know what Christmas is all about.” And he walks out onto the stage and while speaking he does something very un-Linus like.  When he gets to the message of the angels and their proclamation of “Fear not!” Linus lets go of his blanket. We don’t see him drop it but in one moment his hand is grasping his blanket, and in the next he raises that empty hand up as he completes his soliloquy. It is probably the only time that Linus is seen without his blanket, his symbol of security and protection, the thing that helps him be brave.  

As Charlie Brown wonders where his place is, when he can’t do anything right and gets laughed at all the time, as he doubts his choice of the runty little Christmas Tree, Linus tells of the birth of the Child of Bethlehem, of the message to the outsider shepherds, that there is no need to be afraid, that the good news “reminds us that God appears to the less than perfect and the less than powerful.”  And for those that relate to the awkwardness of Charlie Brown, for those who relate to the odd little tree, for those who stand at the margins wondering if and where they may have a place, this is good news.  This is good news for us all!

“Do not be afraid,” the angels say. “I bring you good news of great joy…”

Greek is a very precise language (except when it is not…) so when reading a Greek text of the gospel the reader can notice that the angel says to the shepherds, “I bring you (all) good news of great joy.”  Greek has different words for singular you and plural you.  Kind of like how folks from you south have you, y’all and all y’all. So the message isn’t just addressed to one person, one shepherd, but to all of them.  That being said, there is a point where you have make the leap from the good news being proclaimed for a group of people and the good news being for us.  While the shepherds were addressed as a group and the angel said, “you (all) are recipients of the good news of great joy” there is no doubt that the message was also meant for and received by each one of them individually.

Martin Luther once preached: “[The angel] does not simply say, ‘Christ is born,’ but: ‘For you he is born.’ What good would it do me, if he were born a thousand times and if this were sung to me every day with the loveliest of airs, if I should not hear that there was something in it for me and that it should be my own?”

The good news is declared to “all y’all” because God wants to be sure that every individual understands that the good news is for them.

The angel says, “I bring you (all) good news of great joy for all the people.”  Christ’s birth is not only good news for this group or for that group, for these people or those people.  The child of Bethlehem is good news of great joy for all the people.  The child of Bethlehem isn’t just good news for the lost sheep of Israel; the child is good news for the nations.  The child of Bethlehem isn’t just good news for the religious folk; the child is good news for the folk who know exactly how difficult their struggle is every single day and how far from the mark they land more often than not.  You could even say that the good news is that the Child of Bethlehem is for Charlie Brown AND for the kids who laugh at him.

As Caesar counts the people who make up his realm, as a subtle or not so subtle message of who is in charge and who is not, and who is favored and who is not, Christ is born bringing good news to all the people. As Mary proclaimed following the annunciation, in this child “[God] has brought down the powerful…and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things and sent the rich empty away; he has helped his servant Israel, in remembrance of his mercy, according to the promise made to Abraham and to his descendants forever.” And as Jesus declared in his first sermon in the synagogue, “[the Lord] has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” In this moment of angels visiting shepherds we are reminded that the message of Christmas is that the Child of Bethlehem is good news for everyone, absolutely everyone.

The On Going Work of Turning

Image Courtesy of United Methodist Board of Discipleship, Worship Resources

There is a scene in O Brother, Where Art Thou? where Everett, Delmar, and Pete are hiding in the woods and a congregation begins walking through to go to a nearby river for Baptisms. The stream of people flowing through the woods brings their conversation to a slow stop as the trio begins to follow the congregation down the river bank.  It is one of my favorite scenes in the movie for a variety of reasons, but it comes to mind today as we consider the voice of John the Baptist crying out in the wilderness on the second Sunday of Advent.

It never really occurred to me that the preparations for advent are a bit like being in a wilderness place.  Yet, throughout Scripture we find that the wilderness is a place of preparation.  The children of Israel were prepared for entering the Promised Land by their sojourn in the wilderness; they spent years shaking off the remnants of a life of slavery and learning to be free.  Jesus prepared for his ministry by spending 40 days fasting in the wilderness.  Advent is a bit like a wilderness place as we wait and listen and prepared our hearts for the celebration of Christ’s birth and as we prepare ourselves for Christ’s eventual return. One may even go so far as to say that the life of discipleship, that the process of sanctification, is a wilderness life as we learn to shake off the remnants of our slavery to sin and learning to live a life of freedom as the children of God .  

That is why John is crying out in the wilderness, “Repent!” Change your lives! Change your minds! Turn from the slavery you know to the freedom you have been given! Wash yourselves as an outward sign of your inward commitment!

One Sunday when I was away from my church for a conference or some event, I heard that the guest preacher offered up a fantastic sermon. (It’s always a little intimidating when you come back from being away for a Sunday and folks are talking about how good that visiting preacher’s sermon was!)  One of the points that was made was that there is a huge difference between “Interest” and “Commitment.”  Lots of folks may be interested in something; but only a handful will demonstrate the commitment necessary to make something happen.

Like stand up paddle boarding.  I am really interested in learning how to ride swells and small waves on a stand up paddleboard.  Whether or not I am committed to learning how to ride a SUP is something altogether different.  I have an interest in learning how to surf after 20 plus years away from a long board.  I have to muster up the commitment to actually get out there and learn if I want to do more than just stand on the pier in IB and watch surfers.

John the Baptist isn’t interested in interest.  He’s crying out that folks need to lean into commitment.  

I think the Pharisees and Sadducees are there because they are interested in what John has to say. Maybe they just want to find out what all the hubbub is about.  That’s probably why he calls them on the carpet, too.  In no uncertain terms, John is calling them out: 

“Brood of vipers” isn’t the kind of language you use when you want to build bridges or when you’re trying to be tactful about something. It’s not a phrase that my friend and mentor would encourage the use of when using the art of pastor-fu on someone.

“Bear fruit worthy of repentance.” Those are key words to a life of being prepared in the wilderness.  Those words call folks to a life of commitment.  It’s not that John is preaching to people who are inherently bad or evil or wicked.  He’s not.  He’s preaching to people who have become comfortable in their relationship with God.  He calls the Sadducees and the Pharisees out because they have become comfortable in their positions of leadership.  He calls out anyone who feels like they don’t have any more internal work to do because they’re already members of the club.  He says, “Don’t tell me you have Abraham as an ancestor…bear fruit of your life with God!”

Maybe that’s something for the church to hear in Advent: Bear fruit worthy of repentance; let repentance be an ongoing work in your lives. 

The on-going work of turning ourselves toward God. Ms. Carrie, a saint, really, truly a saint of the last church I served before going on active duty, and in her last days she wanted to talk to me about dying and making sure that she had everything covered when it came to repentance. If there is a person I would think would not have to be concerned about repenting, it was Ms. Carrie. But she still wanted to make sure her life was turned as closely as possible to facing God. Repentance, making the turn toward God, is an ongoing work.

I’m still learning traffic patterns around the area, and the other day I was in the wrong lane coming out of 32nd Street and needed to get over by one lane to get to the exchange and commissary gate…got the non-regulation salute from someone who was less than thrilled by me blocking up traffic once I finally managed to get over…got to thinking about how we don’t do much with regard to allowing folks the benefit of the doubt anymore, maybe they don’t know where they are going…yada yada yada…I was composing the most eloquent Facebook post ever about how we need to change and maybe be a little more grace-filled and kind, and when I finally get to the light to turn left on the green arrow, someone in the right turn across the intersection shoots out in front and gets into the space for those of us turning left! I did not render honors in like fashion, but I was pretty irritated and then it occurred to me how willingly we see the need for other folks to repent and maybe not so much when it comes to ourselves. Repentance, making the turn toward God, is an on-going work.

Which leads us to the altar. John was doing nothing but pointing people to Jesus, who pointed people to God. And when we come to the altar, we are turning our lives in that God-ward direction, remembering everything God did, does, and will do, in the person of Jesus.   The president of my seminary said once “It is at the altar where we are confronted with the call to alter our lives.”

As we celebrate Communion this day, may we hear the call of John to turn ever more toward God in Christ; may we hear, receive, and know the assurance of forgiveness.

Watchful Waiting

Image courtesy of GBOD of the UMC http://www.umcdiscipleship.org/resources/first-sunday-of-advent-a-additional-resources

At almost every retirement ceremony the words of “The Watch” are read.  “For XX number of years this Sailor has stood the watch,” starts the poem which concludes with “Shipmate you stand relieved….we have the watch.”

It’s our way of saying to our colleague that they can stand down from a way of life that we are indoctrinated to from our beginnings in basic training.  I first learned them at RTC in Orlando and again in Newport’s Officer’s Development School: The Eleven General Orders of the Sentry, the last of which says, “To be especially watchful at night, and, during the time for challenging, to challenge all persons on or near my post and to allow no one to pass without proper authority.”

The idea of being on watch is not unusual to those of us living, or living around, a military culture. So when we encounter the words “Keep awake” and “be ready” there may be a tendency to hear something about being on watch for something bad. Maybe somewhere in the back of our minds we hear Mad-Eye Moody from Harry Potter shouting, “Constant Vigilance!” to his students of Defense Against the Dark Arts.

Even Jesus’ mention of the Days of Noah may have us cringing a bit as we contemplate what this text has to do with our preparations for Christmas.

Because it’s all a little, “Just you wait until your father gets home,” isn’t it?

But Advent is about waiting. 

Waiting to celebrate the Word made flesh.

Waiting to rejoice with the Angels who sang songs of God’s glory and God’s Peace.

Advent is about waiting not in fear of a punishing judge; rather it’s about waiting for the vision of God to be made real in history. As that vision was made real in the birth of Jesus. As that vision will be made complete in the Day of the Lord and Christ’s return.

Advent calls us into a place of watchful waiting.

We are in a time of year when we know all about watchful waiting.  We waited when we were children for the mystery of Christmas morning to unfold, and in parenthood we wait as our children watch the mystery of Christmas morning unfold.  And culturally we still yearn for that child-like wonder of the season, don’t we? Even in Japan we watched the locals get excited about Christmas decorations and Christmas music and Christmas gifts; the shopping arcade in Sasebo had these amazing light displays and American Village in Okinawa would decorate and be ablaze in the feeling of the Holiday.

So, even if it’s at a cultural level, we’re geared up for something wonderful to happen during this season.

I know that for some folks, Christmas, even Thanksgiving, are days of stress and pain because our families aren’t whole, or functional, or kind.  And yet, maybe, even in our pain and sorrow, there is a yearning for hope; a desire for the mystery to unfold.

This is perhaps what the state of the people of God were in when Isaiah speaks in today’s text.  The southern Kingdom of Judah is under siege by the Syrian King and the Northern Kingdom of Israel, 120,000 Judean troops were lost in a single days’ battle, the son of King Ahaz was killed (along with other officials), and others were taken away into slavery.  Isaiah’s vision doesn’t occur in a time of peace; he sees this impossible thing happen while war is being waged all around him.  Our passage says, “The word that Isaiah…saw.”  He didn’t hear this word; he didn’t read this word; Isaiah SAW this word, and I think that’s something worth pointing out.

As the Kingdom of Judah, and the center of worship for the people of God in Jerusalem, is under siege, Isaiah sees a word—a seemingly impossible word—that stands in opposition to the war and terror around him.

Maybe this is timely for us to hear as the clashes around DAPL go into their seventh month and the protestors are being moved off their camp into “free speech zones”, as the divide in our nation shows little sign of healing, as nooses are discovered in middle school bathrooms, as Iraqis flee Mosul in fear of increasing ISIL Suicide bombings…

Maybe Isaiah seeing this seemingly impossible word unfold is exactly what we need.

“The word that Isaiah…saw…In days to come…”

In days to come may not be specific, but it does imply that the transformation seen in this word will come within history. Isaiah doesn’t say, “In the year 2525” like Zager and Evans did in their 1969 song about the apocalypse, he merely says in days to come.  Perhaps it is intentionally vague, or maybe it’s a hope-filled yearning like that felt by Tony and Maria in West Side Story as they sang “Somehow…someday…somewhere!” where they believe that if they live in a way of peace that they can make a place of peace.

Isaiah notices that those who stream to the Lord’s house “will encounter and meet God who speaks not only in words but in acts. They will hear not only with their ears but with their hearts—and this God, whose actions they will see and whose will they will hear in their hearts, will be an all welcoming God.”  Because “the nations” streaming to God offers a sign in this vision that “the instruction of God revealed and hidden in Torah is not only for Israel, but for all the nations.”

And as this instruction comes forth…the nations will be transformed from a people who are at war in their hearts and in the world, to a people who are at peace.  And all it seems to require is a willingness to be transformed, a willingness to say, “Let us go to the mountain of the Lord, to the house of the God of Jacob, that he may teach us his ways and that we may walk in his paths.”  It seems that even though the future belongs to God, “the first step toward that future belongs to those who have glimpsed that light.”

So maybe we live in between times, then.  We live in between the vision of God’s future and the completion of God’s future.  We believe that in the birth of Jesus, and in his life and teachings, that we have seen God’s word in actions and that we have heard God’s will.  And maybe this is the what that Jesus calls us to be awake for, to be alert for.  Moments of unfolding.  Moments that are ripe for us to step into God’s dream.

Okay, so now what?  So what?  We live in between Isaiah’s vision and it’s fulfillment.  We live in between the birth of Jesus and the the return of Christ and the Day of the Lord.  What’s it have to do with Christmas?

I think it has this to do with Christmas (and you’ll learn that I say “I think” a lot, because I really don’t think my word is the final word…I’d rather my voice be part of an ongoing conversation.)  I think it has this to do with Christmas.  the very birth of Jesus was the beginning of the fulfillment of the vision Isaiah saw.  As one pastor says, “To live between the times is, above all, to trust and hope that God has begun, and will continue to transform, us more and more into the stature of Christ.”  And if the life and teachings of Jesus are the visible actions of God, then as we become more like Christ our actions will be more and more in line with the dream of God seen in Isaiah’s vision.  

Last week Chaplain Minyard mentioned evangelism as the #1 thing on the Church’s to do list, remember? The list on a sticky note on God’s Fridge? I agree, and I think that visible acts of love are some of the best methods of evangelization out there.  

I’m reminded of a Peanuts comic strip where Charlie Brown and Linus are trudging through the snow. The wind is blowing; the snow is falling. They are bundled up in their snowsuits with fur hats and scarves and gloves and boots. They encounter Snoopy, shivering, naked — as dogs ordinarily are, in front of his doghouse, his dish is empty; he looks cold and hungry and just miserable. Charlie Brown says “Be of good cheer, Snoopy.” Linus echoes: “Yes, Snoopy, be of good cheer.” And off they go leaving Snoopy with a wonderfully quizzical look on his face.

So maybe the reality that God is calling us to live into comes one bowl of soup, one kind word, one kind greeting at a time.  Maybe the reality of God comes when fear and anxiety of the other stops dominating our lives and Faith and Hope take over.

Come, people of God, let us walk in the light of the Lord, watchful for moments to be active in God’s will.

Christ the King Sunday -- Year C -- 2016

Pantocrator,Montreal Cathedral, Sicily

It was on every email he sent. It was said at every formation where he spoke. “It’s the price you pay for the life you choose.” The company First Sergeant was a good man who believed in the Corps and who believed that choosing a life with the Corps meant you chose a life that would have its fair share of challenges.

What does it mean for the Church to say things like “King of kings” and “Lord of lords”? What does it mean for the Church at the end of every liturgical year to celebrate the Reign of Christ, or Christ the King Sunday?

All of the Gospel writers tell us that when Jesus was crucified that the words “King of the Jews” were inscribed over him, usually shown as a placard over his head. What kind of King meets this kind of end and who would choose to follow such a king? “When you play the game of thrones, you win or you die.” Spoken by Cersei Lannister to Ned Stark in the first season of The Game of Thrones. The thought seems to summarize how most people view being a successful ruler of people.  Successful rulers win the game of thrones; they don’t end up dead.

But we’re presented a crucifixion text for the Reign of Christ and that means that there’s something for us to learn from this text as it relates to this particular day in the liturgical year.  Jesus is the King of kings and the Lord of lords; we celebrate the Reign that was inaugurated with his death and resurrection, so what can the Church draw from this to help us become more fully formed as the embodiment of Christ’s reign?

One theologian says, “The ruler of this kingdom does not help himself, but he helps others who need his help (Luke 23:35). Still more: he does not meet evil with evil, but repays evil with good. Indeed, he forgives the people who do not know the evil things they arrange by asking his Father in heaven to forgive them (v. 34).” (Feasting on the Word: Year C, Volume 4: Season after Pentecost 2 (Propers 17-Reign of Christ) (Kindle Locations 12454-12456). Presbyterian Publishing Corporation. Kindle Edition.)

“Jesus spent more time talking about the Kingdom of God than any other topic or issue,” says another pastor. And while we may want to imagine that Kingdom as a future reality that will only come to fruition in the sweet by and by (as if it were a post-dated check), Jesus spoke of the Kingdom as both a present AND a future reality. “The Kingdom of God is at hand.”

So for those of us who would consider ourselves subjects of this Ruler, or citizens of the Reign of God, or followers of this King, our model is One who prays to the Father for the forgiveness of those who have done him harm and who welcomes the justifiably condemned thief into Paradise. These are not easy things to do, but it's the price we pay for the life we choose.

I can’t help but encounter this text with humility because, while we may want to say that the ‘King-ship” of Jesus is demonstrated in his resurrection and exaltation, it is in his crucifixion and death that he is named King. And I believe there is something for me (for all of us) to learn from this.

Jesus is challenged multiple times in this passage to prove that he is the Messiah (God’s chosen one) by saving himself, the crowd and the first thief both say, “Save yourself if you are God’s chosen one, but the thief adds that Jesus also rescue him from his demise.” So the proof of Jesus’ Messianic role is not in his stopping of his own death, but in his embracing it. 

For followers of this Messiah, then, we have a few marks to emulate: forgiving those who have or would do us harm; embracing a path that may not lead to exaltation; and welcoming the obviously “unworthy” into God’s reign. It's not an easy way to follow, but it's the price we pay for the life we choose.

It is interesting that somehow the second thief recognized the Messianic nature of Jesus in his humiliation and death and maybe that’s what the world needs today from people of faith.

“Somehow he has found the hermeneutical lens that permits him to recognize salvation that intrudes into the absolutely hopeless moment where no one is saved from suffering and death, which is also exactly the moment when salvation breaks through.” (Feasting on the Word: Year C, Volume 4: Season after Pentecost 2 (Propers 17-Reign of Christ) (Kindle Locations 12604-12605). Presbyterian Publishing Corporation. Kindle Edition.) 

As followers of this Messiah, as a people who claim Jesus as Lord, where are the places where we allow salvation to intrude into the “hopeless moments” of others? It seems that the world is ripe for moments where God’s Realm can interrupt the tide of hopelessness and despair with real and holy presence.

So often I hear or read on social media, statements of frustration or sorrow or pain. I hear stories of heart ache and heart break from people who wander into my office. And something I frequently hear from these people is that they don’t want “If God brings you to it, he’ll bring you through it” statements said.

What people want to hear is that their pain, their fear, their sorrow is real and valid in the moment, AND that they are not alone. That they have not been forsaken or abandoned and would someone please, demonstrate it by sitting with me in my sorrow.

Jesus says to the thief, “Today, you will be with me in paradise.” Today, God’s reign is real. In this moment, God is fully present with you. In this moment you are remembered. In this moment you are beloved.

May we choose to follow, follow in faith in the same valley places that our Lord has walked.

Amen.