Musings for Christmas Day 2017

One of the churches I served before coming on active duty had a tradition of holding a live nativity for a few nights in the weeks prior to Christmas. We had a small lean-to barn at the edge of our parking lot that would be stacked with hay; some of our neighbors, friends of some congregants would always bring some livestock, a sheep, a goat, a donkey; and members of the church would sign up to pose as magi, shepherds, angels, and Mary and Joseph. We just posed in 30 minute shifts and people from the community would drive by, watch the live nativity, and get some cider, cocoa, and homemade cookies.  As I was kneeling in the gravel, holding my best shepherd pose and trying to reflect on the moment of the birth of Christ, I watched the sheep go the bathroom a couple of times, and the goat attempting to climb over from his stall into the stall with Mary and Joseph, trying to chew on her hair in frustration. And the donkey was the most anxiety filled creature I’d ever met, so very stressed out by the whole ordeal. He would bray and chew on the back of the stable, grabbing the wooden planks with his teeth and pulling and letting go, and they would pop really loudly, and then it would bray again and chew and pull at the wood and the goat was still trying to get Mary’s hair and the sheep, good lord, where is all that coming from? And I remember thinking: “How can I meditate on the birth of Jesus with all this chaos?!?!”

And that’s when it hit me—not the donkey or the goat or anything from the sheep—but the reality of this thing. 

In the messy, chaotic moments of life, Christ is born.

Luke says that, besides Mary and Joseph, the first people to know of the birth of Jesus were shepherds. People living on the margins, with barely any resources, people who were maybe trusted with someone’s sheep, but more than likely were simply thought of as expendable should any bandits come to steal them or nighttime predators come to eat them. They were day laborers working the night shift. These are the people the angels come to with the message of the birth of Jesus. 

They tell these people who guard sheep that the Messiah is born in the city of David, but the extraordinary part of this proclamation is that the Messiah is wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger—in a feeding trough. This newborn King is not in the Temple or in the home of a ruler, resting in a comfortable bed, but in a manger, in “mean estate” as the old hymn goes. 

Imagine being told that a baby was born who was going to change the world and that the sign of proof would be finding that baby wrapped in a borrowed shelter blanket, resting in tent city on Imperial Avenue over I-5. It would be a greater challenge to hear and accept that message on Rodeo Drive than it would be if that message was given to the migrant farmers, or to the day laborers at Home Depot, or to the Garnet Avenue transients, it would be more believable to them.

One author says, “It makes no sense to us that the immutable God of the universe would be born in the bowels of our world in order to be with us.” And what vivid words to describe where this birth is said to have happened: bowels of our world.  But if the birth of Jesus is good news, it must come to those in need of good news, it must come to those moments of messiness and chaos where it seems nothing good can emerge. It must come to the least of these: to the disposable, to the expendable, to the overlooked, the ignored, the marginalized and the ostracized.

And then there is with the angel, an explosion of light and sound, as a multitude of heavenly host erupt in song: “Glory to God in the highest heaven, and on earth peace among those whom he favors!”

And there’s that word again: “favor,” eudoxia in the Greek, meaning a state or condition of being kindly disposed, that is people of goodwill, or a state or condition of being favored. It’s rendered in English the same as the word charis from Gabriel’s announcement to Mary. Both the ordinary young woman from the small town of Nazareth and the shepherds left to protect sheep from predators are somehow favored by the same God, they’re both extended the same grace from God. One is ordinary the others are less than ordinary, but the God to whom the angels sing will redeem them all.  

Where does this put us on Christmas day. I guess it depends on how we view ourselves and how we view others. Maybe we should all tremble that immutable God of the universe would come to us and offer peace to us all. Isn’t it true that no matter where we are on a given spectrum that we are right and they are wrong? And yet this God would stand in the breach between Us and Them and say we are both favored, that Rodeo Drive and Skid Row are both welcome at the table and no matter which street we may find ourselves on we are invited to receive and to offer the bread of life across the border wall that divides us.

“Do not be afraid for I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day…a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.” The news is brought to the margins and yet is for everyone: good news for the poor, release to the captives, recovery of sight to the blind, freedom for the oppressed, peace for the brokenhearted, a proclamation of the season of God’s favor.

“Nora Gallagher writes, “What if those words are about something real? What if they are a hint about the kingdom? A hint about God? What if this religion I’ve been practicing and this Gospel… I’ve heard” … “every Sunday, is not a metaphor but a description of reality?”1 To ask this question is to take a deep look into the meaning of the birth of Christ, the possibility that gospel truth is found today in the lives and witness of people we would not see as strong or powerful.”

The birth of Christ is the in-breaking of God into this world, into this life (even when it’s messy and chaotic) and to flip it all upside down—or maybe right side up—to start something in the here and now that can continue for eternity.

  

Fourth Sunday of Advent Year B

The Book 1000+ Little Things Happy and Successful People Do Differently lists these “10 Words to Live By” – Positivity, Patience, Courage, Love, Truth, Confession, Appreciation, Responsibility, Growth, and Persistence.” 

Beliefnet lists these “10 Simple Words to Live By” – Thank you; I love you; I believe; Before You Speak, Think; I Know I Can; You’re Welcome; I Appreciate You; I Won’t Give Up; I Am Happy; I Will Forgive. They’re more phrases than individual words…but you get the point.

Planet Success lists 75 Quotes as Words to Live By, offered by the likes of Bruce Lee, Washington Iriving, Mark Twain, and these by Dr. Seuss: “Be who you are and say what you feel because those mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind.”

All of these are great in a Your Best Life Now kind of way. But when I think of words that embody discipleship, words that followers of Christ are meant to live by, these words are almost always at the top of my list: “Here am I the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.”

Luke tells us that in the sixth month, of Elizabeth’s pregnancy, the angel Gabriel was sent by God to Nazareth, to Mary. Mary, in Luke’s words, is a virgin betrothed to Joseph. Excavations of Nazareth have found silos, olive and wine presses, and storage receptacles indicative of an agrarian culture and other evidence points to Nazareth having at most a population of about 500. And while tradition has a fair amount to say about Mary, and less to say about Joseph, our text doesn’t say much about Mary’s background or her family or her economic status. 

It does say that she is a Parthénos – a young, unmarried woman; but in this case Mary is betrothed, promised to be wed to a man name Joseph.  In a word, she is ordinary. There is no mention of über holiness, or extra purity, or heightened devotion. She is a young woman from a small town, betrothed to a man from the same small town. 

And to this ordinary girl comes Gabriel the angel with the message that she is not ordinary; in fact, she is favored by God. It may be because Mary’s life is SO ordinary that she is perplexed by Gabriel’s message of being favored.

I’m sure we all know something about Rosa Parks, Malala Yousafzai, or Indira Ghandi. All women who are know for their courageous acts in pivotal moments in history, and yet, all women who just wanted to live ordinary lives, lives like anyone one may have had in their moments of living. Then there is Florence Owens Thompson, born Florence Leona Christie.  

Born in 1903, the daughter of Cherokees displaced from their native tribal lands, Florence married her first husband at 17, and started a family working in mills and at farms in northern California.  She gave birth to her 6th child in 1931, six months after her husband died from tuberculosis. She had four other children with two other husbands, and in her words, “I worked in hospitals. I tended bar. I cooked. I done a little bit of everything to make a living for my kids.” In the spring of 1936 their car broke down on Highway 101 and she pulled into a camp of nearly 3,500 other pea-pickers. While her husband and sons went into town to get parts for the car, she waited in a lean-to, and was approached by a woman with a camera. The woman was Dorothea Lange who was finishing up an assignment of documenting migrant workers. Florence is the woman, the ordinary woman, in the famous photo that accompanied an article in the San Francisco News, “What Does the ‘New Deal’ Mean to This Mother and Her Children?” The article in the newspaper prompted food donations to flood into the migrant camp, but by that time, Florence and her family and moved on. In September 1983 Florence died surrounded by her family. Her tombstone reads, “Migrant Mother — A Legend of the Strength of American Motherhood.”*

Mary is as ordinary as Florence Thompson, as perhaps we view ourselves many times.  Ordinary. 

And into Mary’s ordinary life comes the message, “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.”

Gabriel offers to Mary that something unusual is afoot (at the Nazareth Circle K) and that Mary has found favor with God; she will conceive and bear a son and name him Jesus, and what a child he will be! 

Mary is even more perplexed by this development, because she is only promised in marriage and not really, truly married to Joseph yet and still a virgin. To which Gabriel says the Holy Spirit has it all under control.

Now…I don’t know about you…but…it’s when I’m told that the Holy Spirit has it all under control that I start to get nervous. I can’t even publish a Christmas Eve bulletin without knowing who is reading what lesson, so when I hear that whisper that says,” Trust God to accomplish this” I get pretty queasy.  

But Mary hears something in this message from Gabriel that helps her trust in the mystery that she is called to participate in. She trusts the message that, “Nothing will be impossible for God.”

I honestly don’t know what she heard, or why she chose to trust, ordinary as she was. The task seems enormous; the means of accomplishing this thing sound too strange. And yet, she agrees to participate. Mary says, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.”

Courageous words; words to live by for anyone who would identify themselves as a disciple, or a follower in the Way of Jesus.

When we think of cultural heroes, or heroes of the faith, we remember their heroic deed(s), not that they are—or were—as ordinary as us. We don’t remember that they were ordinary people with ordinary lives. Our heroes are stained glass monuments, bronze-cased warriors, carefully curated and written icons that embody their status as heroes and, out of the grasp of our day to day living. I always go back to this bronze statue of Saint Peter in the Vatican. Visitors and pilgrims to the Vatican have reverently touched the foot of this Bronze Peter so much over the years that the toes have been worn down smooth. But it’s not the victories of Peter that makes him so easy for me to identify with; it’s his many failures.

At some point, we are given moments of decision, all of us.  At some point we are invited to take part in the mysterious workings of God in our own small towns, our own ordinary corners of the world. Mary acts as a creative partner and agent with God in the coming of the Christ child.  I have to believe that the same invitation, the same declaration, stands today for us, as it did for Mary.

May you, in the most ordinary moments of your days, hear the greeting of God’s messenger that you are Favored and God is with you. And by the power of God’s spirit you can make Christ a reality for those around you.

 *“The Hidden Life Story of the Iconic ‘Migrant Mother’” by Alex Q. Arbuckle. http://mashable.com/2016/06/12/migrant-mother/#m4EJ9FhfGaq7

1st Sunday After the Epiphany: The Baptism of the Lord

In 1996 I relocated from Sunny San Diego to the North Coast of California. I traded an occasional rainy day for occasional bright, bright, sunshiny day (or so folks are prone to think with regard to weather in the Pacific Northwest). But after six years in San Diego, life in the Northwest was alien. 

I remember standing on Moonstone Beach, wearing Khaki Dockers and a Big, Baggy Black Sweater in July, and watching this creature emerge from the surf, hands, head and feet covered with a thick wet suit to keep warm, and I wondered out loud, “what’s that?” “It’s a surfer!” Jennifer said. And I wanted to know how anyone could surf with so much between them and the water.

I remember standing under the boughs of an ancient redwood, holding the hand of our not quite two year old child and feeling just as tiny as I stared up into the lofty green branches and wondered at the size of these literal giants whose tops were, more often than not, shrouded in the seemingly ever-present mists of the North Coast.

The frequent rains of the North Coast and Northwest serve a purpose—just like the occasional rain does here on the South Coast—as much as some would complain about the rain, it is a necessary thing—water is life.

Water is from the beginning of Creation.  Of all the things brought forth, water is simply there. “In the beginning, when God began to create the heavens and the earth, the earth was a formless void and darkness covered the face of the deep, while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters.”

God does not say, “Let there be water.” There is just water. 

Maybe it’s because water is life.

Water is there from the beginning of Creation and, at the end of what we know of this Creation, when all things are made new, John’s vision in Revelation is of a “River of the water of life, flowing from the throne of God and of the Lamb, through the middle of the city…And the Spirit and the bride say, ‘Come.’ And let everyone who hears say, ‘Come.’ And let everyone who is thirsty come. Let anyone who wishes take the water of life as a gift.” (Rev. 22:1,17)

Water is there as Creation is birthed. Water is there as Creation is remade in the Flood. Water is there as Israel moves from slavery to freedom and as they move from living as wanderers to living in the land promised to Abraham and his descendants.  Jesus is born from the waters of the womb, and today, we hear that Jesus comes to Jordan to partake in the Baptism that John offers.

It may seem an odd thing that Jesus, the One the Author of Hebrews says, “in every respect has been tested as we are, yet without sin” (Heb 4:15) would come to John for a Baptism since so many of those at the Jordan were confessing their sins as they were baptized.  

[Mikvah & John’s Baptism]

Before we get to what Jesus was doing in going to John to get baptized, maybe we should look for some understanding about what John was doing.  Immersion in water, for ritual cleansing, was not anything new to the people flocking to the Jordan. The concept — if not the actual term “Mikvah” — had been used for centuries before John.  The Midrash even relates that “after being banished from Eden, Adam sat in a river that flowed from the garden…[as] an integral part of his repentance process, of his attempt to return to his original perfection.” (chabad.org)

Even outside of Midrash, we see this use of immersion and cleansing: before the revelation at Sinai the people of God were commanded to immerse themselves in preparation for coming face to face with God; Aaron and his sons induction into the priesthood was marked by immersion; during the Temple periods the priests as well as each person who wished entry into the Temple had to immerse; and on Yom Kippur, the only day of the year when the high priest could enter the Holy of Holies, the entry was the culmination of an ascending order of services, each of which was preceded by immersion in the Mikvah.  

chabad.org says, “In many ways, Mikvah is the threshold separating the unholy from the holy [the Hebrew word “Kodesh — most often translated as Holy — is that which is set apart from the rest for a unique purpose, for consecration.] But [Mikvah] is even more. Simply put, immersion in the Mikvah signals a change in status...its unparalleled function lies in its power of transformation, its ability to effect metamorphosis.”

This is what John was doing at the Jordan.  John was calling people to transformation. John was calling people back to their state of being set apart, unique. His message is clear: “Repent—change—because the Kingdom of Heaven in near!” John was making a threshold so that the people of God could once again meet God face to face.

[Jesus’ Baptism & Becoming the Beloved]

So then, what is Jesus doing there? Why would Emmanuel—God with Us—need to participate in ritual cleansing to get ready? From what does he need to repent?

We are in good company with regard to our confusion.  John wants to know the same thing, so much so that he tries to refuse and says, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?” John knows that Jesus is the one he has been preparing the way for. John knows that the roles should be reversed.

But Jesus says, “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” Daniel’s paraphrase is this: “John calm down; I have this. Let it happen because I have to be obedient to God’s will.” Even though John was using immersion as a way of helping people get ready to see God face to face—Jesus knows that immersion is the way to get ready for the work of God, too.

The people of God were commissioned beginning with Abraham.  “I will bless you and you will be a blessing.” Later the prophet Isaiah says, “I have given you as a covenant to the people, a light to the nations.” And again, “I will give you as a light to the nations, that my salvation may reach to the end of the earth.”  The people of God are called to live in a way that is set apart so that the world will see a people who are wholly (w-h-o-l-l-y) devoted to God and want to be devoted, too.

Immersion, if it was only to call people to regret how they have been living, would not be what God really meant for it.  Immersion is meant to be a way to call people back to being set apart so that the nations might see and follow, too.  

So Jesus tells John, basically, “I am about to do God’s work in the world; let me do this so that the people will remember.” But the intent behind that word remember is that as we remember we are moved to do likewise.

“Too many people seem to think that the baptism of the infant or the young adult or the adult is the culminating activity of faith, and then we’re ‘done.’ Matthew’s description of Jesus’ baptism tells us the opposite.”

But something else happens, too. In the fulfilling of righteousness Jesus brings this practice of immersion to completion—not completion like to its conclusion—but to the fullness of meaning. 

As Jesus emerges from the waters, the heavens open, there is the voice, and there is the Spirit’s descent like a dove.  

“The Word of God was present from the beginning and created the world. What the word created was good. In Matthew, the Spirit of God once again hovers over the waters and once again the word of God speaks…and in Jesus we catch a glimpse of what it means to be fully human, and in baptism we are offered the possibility of embracing our humanity [in a manner like Jesus].”

Jesus lived every moment of every day in the reality that he is God’s Beloved.  The same word of God that spoke over creation, speaks over Jesus, “This is my Beloved.” Some point out that this affirmation, because the voice says ‘this is’ not ‘you are,’ is more for John and those gathered at the Jordan, is a declaration more than it is an affirmation, but to be publicly recognized is also internally affirming. “You like me! You really like me!”

In an article called “The Science of ‘You Like Me! You Really Like Me!’” Matthew Lieberman writes:

Perhaps the most dramatic positive sign that we can get from another person — short of a marriage proposal — is to read something that person has written to express their deep affection for us. In a recent study, researchers asked participants’ friends, family members and significant others to compose two letters: one that contained unemotional statements of fact (“You have brown hair”) and one that expressed their positive emotional feelings for the participant (“You are the only person who has ever cared for me more than for yourself”).

Subjects would then lie in an MRI scanner while reading these letters written about them by several of the people they cared about the most. Our intuitive theories suggest there is something radically different about the kind of pleasure that comes from people saying nice things about us and the pleasure that comes from eating a scoop of our favorite ice cream. The former is intangible, both literally and figuratively, while the latter floods our senses. Although there are surely differences between physical and verbal sweets, this study suggested that the brain’s reward system seems to treat these experiences more similarly than we might expect. Being the object of such touching statements activates the ventral striatum in the same way that the other basic rewards in life — like ice cream — do.

Rabbi Samuel Karff says that it is important to pause and count our blessings, “Because…the human [temptation is] to pray only prayers of asking for something at those times when we are aware of the pain and the unfulfilled yearnings in our life. We can only begin to accept the all of life, and affirm that life is worth its price, if we lift to consciousness all the good in our lives.”

He is providing commentary to a morning prayer that says, “My God, the soul you have given me is pure. You created it. You shaped it. You breathed it into me and you protect it within me. For as long as my soul is within me, I offer thanks to you.”  

We could add to that prayer, “You called my soul Beloved.”

Nadia Bolz Weber: “You know the one thing I love most about the Baptism of our Lord text is not just that God the Father says “This is my son, the beloved with whom I am well pleased”, but that God says this – before Jesus had really done anything. Think about that.  God did not say “this is my son in whom I am well pleased because he has proved to me that he deserves it, he has quiet time with me each morning and always reads his Torah and because boy can he heal a leper.”  Nope. As far as we know Jesus hadn’t even done anything yet and he was called beloved. The one in whom the Father was well pleased.” (http://www.patheos.com/blogs/nadiabolzweber/2014/01/sermon-on-baptism-belovedness-and-how-god-is-like-a-duped-teacher/)

If the act of Christian Baptism is “less an act of negation than it is an affirmation of being incorporated into Christ”…If baptism as an archetypal act demonstrates the ancient metamorphosis of the Mikvah where people enter water as one thing (slaves or wanderers) and emerge as something different, something (someone) set apart and holy…If baptism follows in the ancient biblical tradition that suggests that waters are also places of renewal, hospitality, and spiritual vision, where human beings see God and receive God’s blessing…

Then Beloved of God, hear this, take it to heart, and live every day from it: “If anyone is in Christ, there is a new creation; everything old has passed away; see, everything has become new!”  These words are for you (and for me) as we remember our journey to the waters of life, “This is my Beloved. With you I am well pleased.”

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.