Preached at Grace Lutheran, York and Canadochly Lutheran on December 25, 2016
Scripture: Matthew 1:18-25, Luke 2:1-7
Pastor's Note: In keeping with a long-time personal tradition, I composed another "storytelling sermon" for Christmas Day this year. This time, I took on the role of Joseph.
What a long strange trip it’s been.
I’d thought I’d heard and seen it all. My name is Joseph. I hail from the village of Nazareth in Galilee. I’ve seen 35 or so summers, making me something of a venerable figure in our village. (Before you folks from future generations laugh, remember that many in my day and time are lucky to see 40. I am very much an old man for my time.)
Twenty years I’ve worked at my trade, learning from my father the art of carpentry. I’ve worked hard, made my meager fortune, and gained a reputation as a fair and honest businessman. The village respects and looks up to me. My reputation has spread to the neighboring villages. My work can be found in the homes of Capernaum and Bethsaida.
It doesn’t hurt that I can lay claim to being a descendant of King David through his son Solomon. Sadly, that lineage gave me none of their fabled wealth, but having a decent pedigree is always a good thing.
Why am I sharing all of this with you? Well, all of this, my reputation, my profession, my pedigree, all of it has been my evidence that I am a worthy suitor to the lovely Mary. Mary is the most beautiful girl in the village and, after all these many years, I feel it is time to end my bachelor life and start a family. She’s the one I want I start it with.
But to woo her, I must prove myself first to her family, to her father Joachim and her mother Anne. Hence the need for all this evidence that I will prove a good husband, that I will take good care of her. And in that endeavor I was successful. We were betrothed, pledged to wed.
Then I began to prove to Mary herself that I would be a good husband to her. Oh, I know. In my day and time such effort would be seen as frivolous or foolish. Who cares what women think, one might say. Well, I do. Perhaps that makes me strange for my day and time, but strange is the name of the game for this story.
I discovered that Mary was very devout, that faith and devotion to God were of utmost importance to her. Good thing that I too have been very dedicated to our synagogue and to the study of the Scriptures. This became our bond, allowing us to grow in love and affection for one another around a common interest.
News from the wider world interrupted our courtship. The Caesar had spoken. Parthian raiders had been giving the easternmost provinces of the Empire some trouble and Rome was now determined to punish them. Why the Caesar at his great age would want to prosecute another war is beyond me, but Rome’s thirst for blood never quite seems to be sated. Either way a tax was announced for all the Empire. I would soon have to depart to the ancestral home of my family line: Bethlehem in Judea.
It was around this time that things began to get a bit weird.
One afternoon, not long after the census was announced, I went to call on Mary at her parent’s home. I caught her in an unguarded moment and spying upon her from afar, I noticed the telltale bulge of her belly. She was with child. How could this be! The two of us had had no marital relations with one another and I did not know of any other man who had been in her company. A scandal! A betrayal! How could she do such a thing to me?
I retreated to my home to consider my options. I loved Mary even in the midst of her obvious betrayal. I decided to break off our betrothal, but announce that decision only to her and her parents. No doubt, they would find a relative to hide her until the growing evidence of her scandalous behavior went away. Perhaps her old cousin Elizabeth in Judea would serve.
I decided to sleep on my decision. As I slumbered, I received a vision from on high. God sent one of his angels to me in my dreams. The angel spoke. Mary’s child was not the product of a betrayal, but the blessed work of the Holy Spirit. The child would be the promised Messiah and that I was to name him Yeshua, “God will save us.” I awoke from this dream, astonished at the strange and wondrous times in which I was living. God had blessed me, me of all people, to be the father of his Messiah.
I hastened to Mary the next day. Let us be wed immediately, I boldly declared to her and her family. Let the village gauk all they want. God is at work in us and what matter the opinions of onlookers. Mary and her parents, who apparently had received visions of their own from God about the nature of this child, agreed. We were wed within the week.
Soon thereafter, Mary went off to visit Elizabeth, who I came to discover was also expecting a child in her great age. Another miracle. I was surrounded by them. Evidence that God was at work in our world. Yes, it was weird and strange. Virgins conceiving children. Elderly barren women doing the same. The impossible was happening all around me. And it was wondrous!
Some months passed while Mary stayed with Elizabeth. I then set out to perform my public duty, travelling first to fetch my wife and then on to Bethlehem. You know the rest of the story. The first night we were there, the city was so crowded there was only room for us in a barn with the animals. Mary had begun her labor pains as we settled down and later that night she gave birth to this miraculous child. More miracles would follow. Shepherds came calling, speaking of visions of angels heralding the birth of the child.
As dawn approached, I began to settle down after a very sleepless night. I offered up a prayer. Thank you, Lord, that I would be witness to such strange and yet wondrous moments. I have seen God at work in our world. I have seen that his promises, made long before I was born, are true and that he is faithful to them. I would wish the same upon you, my eager audience. May you witness the wondrous, even the impossible. May your eyes be opened to God at work in the world. For he is faithful to his promises. Jesus is proof of that. The Messiah has come and may that same Messiah be a blessing to you and yours.
Tuesday, December 27, 2016
Saturday, December 24, 2016
Sermon for Christmas Eve 2016
Preached at Canadochly Lutheran Church on December 24, 2016
Scripture text: Luke 2:1-7
I try to have a sense of how I’m going to preach Christmas Eve some weeks before the day arrives. In an effort to find some ideas, I went through my sermon blog to review old Christmas sermons and I found some inspiration in the very first Christmas Eve sermon I preached here. In it, I ranted and raved against the “Christmas rules.”
Well, not much has changed in four years. I still hate the Christmas rules, those requirements that are placed upon all of us to have a sense of artificial cheer and sentimentality during this time of year. Be happy. Be joyful. Be full of mirth. OR ELSE!
In recent years, there’s even been a new rule. The old ones weren’t enough, so they added a new one. Back during my childhood all those years ago, “Happy Holidays” was a perfectly acceptable greeting for people during this time of year. But not anymore. Now using that particular phrase makes you are some manner of Christmas apostate. A heathen who rejects the true spirit of Christmas. Another rule. Yet more Christmas rule nonsense.
I don’t like these rules because they create an aura of fakery and deceit around this holiday. They force us to feel things we might not. They force us to gloss over memories that might be painful. They force us to pretend that the world is not what it is, to ignore the fact that our fellow citizens celebrate a whole myriad of holidays from Hanukkah to Kwanzaa to Mawlid to Yule to New Year’s Eve. I doubt many of even us Christians will forego that last one in order to somehow make Christmas the sole holiday of the season. I know I won’t.
These rules force us to pretend. To be something we are not. To feel things we may not. I don’t like that kind of fakery. I like the truth. I like what is real. And I’m not alone.
You see, all the very BEST Christmas stories don’t obey the rules. All the best Christmas stories begin dire and dark. The Grinch is going to steal all the Christmas presents. Scrooge is a horrible nasty person who’s going to be damned if he doesn’t shape up. George Bailey is about to jump off a bridge and kill himself. Even Charlie Brown is made fun of for his wimpy little tree, and Rudolph can’t play any reindeer games. These are not happy stories, at least not the start. They are grounded in the real and often painful experiences of human beings.
Luke’s Gospel story of Jesus’ birth, the story of the first Christmas, does not begin as a happy story either. That’s because it’s not some fairy tale fantasy. It is not perfect and pretty like a Norman Rockwell painting. It is grounded in the real world. Luke begins the story not with “Once upon a time,” but with a statement of the political order of the day. “In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus” and this happened “while Quirinius was governor of Syria.”
The decree is for a census, to discover the population of the vast Roman Empire. Older translations of this story, like the KJV, cut to the chase. The census is for a tax. A tax of this magnitude can only mean one thing. The Empire is going to war. There is an invasion planned, perhaps of Briton or Germany or Parthia (modern day Iran.) Funny how the more things change, the more they stay the same. Then as now, those lands where human civilization was born are seemingly a place of unending conflict and turmoil.
This is the world into which Jesus is born. A world upon which a shadow of death and suffering lies. People are going to die in the Empire’s war. There will be disease and famine, with refugees displaced from their homes. It will be a nightmare and this is the world into which Jesus is born..
Jesus’ birth is the coming of light into the darkness. Hope in the midst of despair. Love in the midst of hatred. Mercy in the midst of vengeance. Life in the midst of death.
THIS IS WHAT CHRISTMAS IS ALL ABOUT. Jesus comes into the real world, the world in which we all live. A world that is what it is, not what we pretend it to be.
This world’s been broken since before the beginning of human history. Sin and death has plagued us and our forebears for as long as we can remember and even before. But the birth of this child that we mark on this night is the beginning of a new reality, one where that which is broken is set right.
This child, once he becomes a man, shows us what that looks like. He makes the lame to walk and the blind to see. He heals people of horrible disease. He welcomes strangers and outcasts. He forgives the guilty, embraces the broken-hearted. He brings to life again the dead. In small ways, Jesus puts things right, a preview of what is to come for all of us.
This world is broken, but it will not always be so. There is still a shadow of death and suffering cast upon us, but it is fading. It is fading because God is at work in our world. He wants the wrong set right. He’s wanted that since day one.
Christmas is the culmination of a promise made to the patriarch Abraham at the dawn of human civilization. I will make of you a great nation and from your descendants shall come a blessing for the whole world. That blessing would be the one to put right what has gone wrong in this world. That blessing would be a child born in a manger, born in the shadow of the pain of war, born to set the world free.
God lives in the real world with us. Jesus was born into the real world with us. And because of that, the real world in which we live is changing. Tears will be wiped away. Sorrow and death will one day be no more. All that is wrong will be put right. THIS IS WHAT CHRISTMAS IS ABOUT. It’s about a broken world being put right.
To those whose Christmas memories are not always joyful, here is your hope. To those who feel pain on this night, here is a salve for your wounds. To those who keenly feel the absence of loved ones, know that this child in the manger has come to bring them to life again. To those of us who live in the real world and not a picturesque fantasy, a real Jesus has come to bind up our wounds and to put the world right. He has come in love offering hope and bringing light and life to a darkened world. That is Christmas. That is why we are here tonight.
Merry Christmas and God’s blessings be upon you all. Amen.
Scripture text: Luke 2:1-7
I try to have a sense of how I’m going to preach Christmas Eve some weeks before the day arrives. In an effort to find some ideas, I went through my sermon blog to review old Christmas sermons and I found some inspiration in the very first Christmas Eve sermon I preached here. In it, I ranted and raved against the “Christmas rules.”
Well, not much has changed in four years. I still hate the Christmas rules, those requirements that are placed upon all of us to have a sense of artificial cheer and sentimentality during this time of year. Be happy. Be joyful. Be full of mirth. OR ELSE!
In recent years, there’s even been a new rule. The old ones weren’t enough, so they added a new one. Back during my childhood all those years ago, “Happy Holidays” was a perfectly acceptable greeting for people during this time of year. But not anymore. Now using that particular phrase makes you are some manner of Christmas apostate. A heathen who rejects the true spirit of Christmas. Another rule. Yet more Christmas rule nonsense.
I don’t like these rules because they create an aura of fakery and deceit around this holiday. They force us to feel things we might not. They force us to gloss over memories that might be painful. They force us to pretend that the world is not what it is, to ignore the fact that our fellow citizens celebrate a whole myriad of holidays from Hanukkah to Kwanzaa to Mawlid to Yule to New Year’s Eve. I doubt many of even us Christians will forego that last one in order to somehow make Christmas the sole holiday of the season. I know I won’t.
These rules force us to pretend. To be something we are not. To feel things we may not. I don’t like that kind of fakery. I like the truth. I like what is real. And I’m not alone.
You see, all the very BEST Christmas stories don’t obey the rules. All the best Christmas stories begin dire and dark. The Grinch is going to steal all the Christmas presents. Scrooge is a horrible nasty person who’s going to be damned if he doesn’t shape up. George Bailey is about to jump off a bridge and kill himself. Even Charlie Brown is made fun of for his wimpy little tree, and Rudolph can’t play any reindeer games. These are not happy stories, at least not the start. They are grounded in the real and often painful experiences of human beings.
Luke’s Gospel story of Jesus’ birth, the story of the first Christmas, does not begin as a happy story either. That’s because it’s not some fairy tale fantasy. It is not perfect and pretty like a Norman Rockwell painting. It is grounded in the real world. Luke begins the story not with “Once upon a time,” but with a statement of the political order of the day. “In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus” and this happened “while Quirinius was governor of Syria.”
The decree is for a census, to discover the population of the vast Roman Empire. Older translations of this story, like the KJV, cut to the chase. The census is for a tax. A tax of this magnitude can only mean one thing. The Empire is going to war. There is an invasion planned, perhaps of Briton or Germany or Parthia (modern day Iran.) Funny how the more things change, the more they stay the same. Then as now, those lands where human civilization was born are seemingly a place of unending conflict and turmoil.
This is the world into which Jesus is born. A world upon which a shadow of death and suffering lies. People are going to die in the Empire’s war. There will be disease and famine, with refugees displaced from their homes. It will be a nightmare and this is the world into which Jesus is born..
Jesus’ birth is the coming of light into the darkness. Hope in the midst of despair. Love in the midst of hatred. Mercy in the midst of vengeance. Life in the midst of death.
THIS IS WHAT CHRISTMAS IS ALL ABOUT. Jesus comes into the real world, the world in which we all live. A world that is what it is, not what we pretend it to be.
This world’s been broken since before the beginning of human history. Sin and death has plagued us and our forebears for as long as we can remember and even before. But the birth of this child that we mark on this night is the beginning of a new reality, one where that which is broken is set right.
This child, once he becomes a man, shows us what that looks like. He makes the lame to walk and the blind to see. He heals people of horrible disease. He welcomes strangers and outcasts. He forgives the guilty, embraces the broken-hearted. He brings to life again the dead. In small ways, Jesus puts things right, a preview of what is to come for all of us.
This world is broken, but it will not always be so. There is still a shadow of death and suffering cast upon us, but it is fading. It is fading because God is at work in our world. He wants the wrong set right. He’s wanted that since day one.
Christmas is the culmination of a promise made to the patriarch Abraham at the dawn of human civilization. I will make of you a great nation and from your descendants shall come a blessing for the whole world. That blessing would be the one to put right what has gone wrong in this world. That blessing would be a child born in a manger, born in the shadow of the pain of war, born to set the world free.
God lives in the real world with us. Jesus was born into the real world with us. And because of that, the real world in which we live is changing. Tears will be wiped away. Sorrow and death will one day be no more. All that is wrong will be put right. THIS IS WHAT CHRISTMAS IS ABOUT. It’s about a broken world being put right.
To those whose Christmas memories are not always joyful, here is your hope. To those who feel pain on this night, here is a salve for your wounds. To those who keenly feel the absence of loved ones, know that this child in the manger has come to bring them to life again. To those of us who live in the real world and not a picturesque fantasy, a real Jesus has come to bind up our wounds and to put the world right. He has come in love offering hope and bringing light and life to a darkened world. That is Christmas. That is why we are here tonight.
Merry Christmas and God’s blessings be upon you all. Amen.
Tuesday, December 20, 2016
Sermon for Fourth Advent
Preached at Grace Lutheran, York and Canadochly on December 18, 2016
Scripture text: Matthew 1:18-25
Rules. Every human society and institution has them. Our government has rules that order life here in America. Speak freely. Worship as you please. But don’t murder. Don’t steal. Don’t run red lights. Etc. Clubs and other organizations have rules. Pay your dues. Show up for meetings. Participate in activities. So forth. Religions have rules. Honor God. Love neighbor. Be good. Families have rules. Listen to your parents. Be home by 10pm.
Everywhere you look there are rules. They guide human society and civilization. They keep things running smoothly...most of the time. Of course, since many rules are human created and human enforced, there are times when rules are unfair or unjust. When you were a kid and you finally got the tree house of your dreams and you put out that sign on the outside of it, “NO GIRLS ALOUD!” (For those of you reading this on the blog, that misspelling is deliberate.)
That’s not a fair rule. Sadly though, such unjust rules are not confined to children. We adults can do that sort of thing too.
In addition to unfair rules, there are also times when the rules probably should be waived. There are mitigating circumstances that might mean that the rules shouldn’t apply. Probably the most dramatic example of this is the insanity plea in our court system. A person has committed a horrible crime, but they didn’t completely understand what they were doing. They weren’t in their right mind. Those are mitigating circumstances. Judges and juries wrestle with whether or not to apply the rules to such a person or waive them because of mental illness and the defendant’s inability to comprehend what precisely they did.
Rules. Joseph of Nazareth struggles with what to do about the rules in our Gospel lesson today. One of the rules, certainly more strict in past times but still often potent in these times, is that you’re not supposed to have sexual relations before you’re married. You’re certainly not supposed to, if you’re a woman, get pregnant. And you’re not supposed to cheat on the person you’re in a relationship with. Yet that appears to be precisely what’s happened here. Joseph’s fiance, Mary, is pregnant and the most logical conclusion is that she got that way by fooling around with someone other than Joseph.
What’s a man to do in those circumstances?
If Joseph were the vindictive type, he could call her out publicly for what she’s done. He could shame her, make her a public embarrassment, and then walk away, breaking off their engagement with a public display of disdain and anger. He would be within his rights to that. In fact, that’s pretty much what the rules demand he do. But Joseph is not vindictive. The storyteller points out that he is a righteous man, and this is one of those circumstances where that word should not be taken sarcastically as it often is when referring to folks like the Pharisees. Joseph is the real deal. He wants to do what is right. And in this case, doing what is right means not doing what the rules demand.
Joseph decides as the story tells us to divorce her “quietly.” He doesn’t want a spectacle. No witch hunt. No lynch mob. He just wants things to go away and he wants to do it in a way that doesn’t hurt Mary. Despite the appearance of her betrayal, Joseph still wants what’s best for her. He wants to uphold her well-being. No wonder he was chosen to be Jesus’ earthly father.
Of course, the story ends with Joseph receiving a vision that tells him the whole truth. Mary has been faithful after all. This child she bears is not an ordinary one, but the promised Messiah, conceived of the Holy Spirit. Joseph changes his mind and he goes forward with marrying Mary. That too is breaking the rules. Imagine the spectacle that was! Joseph and Mary (clearly pregnant) standing before the rabbi with much of the village standing around, saying their vows to one another. Both of them with defiant grins on their faces, not caring one whit what the world thinks. Both of them knowing the truth of what God is doing with them.
They did what was right. Not what the rules demanded.
Jesus clearly followed in their footsteps. As an adult, he was a great one for rule-breaking. He ate with tax collectors. Touched lepers and bleeding women. Talked with Samaritans. Healed the servant of a Roman centurion, a Gentile invader. Defied the rules lawyers in the Pharisees and other religious authorities all the time. He did what was right, not what the rules demanded.
One could argue that even in his death, there was a defiance of the rules. He’s innocent and yet he makes no defense. He has the power to come off the cross and the justification to do so, and yet he remains up there. He has no reason to let himself die and yet he does. Because he did what was right. He died for the sake of the world, innocent blood shed for the sake of the guilty. Oh, and speaking of rules that he breaks, there’s another. What’s dead usually stays dead, but not Jesus. He didn’t obey that rule either. He returned to life and then promised the same to all of us.
But what are we to take away from all this? Well, don’t let the rule get in your way to do what is right. There have been many unfair or downright evil laws in our society. Owning another person whose skin color was different was once perfectly legal in this country. The genocide of the Native population was once legal in this country. The internment of loyal citizens whose ancestry was the same as a declared enemy was once legal in this country. None of these things were what was right and there are those in our society today who would see them become legal again.
Few in number perhaps, but they are bold and vocal. As Christians, we are called to be as Joseph was, as Jesus was. To do what is right and not always what is legal, not always what the rules demand. We must resist these voices of evil. Because if these things or other atrocities were to become legal once more, where do you think Jesus would be if he were on Earth today? He’d be in the internment camps with the immigrants or the Muslims. He’d break the rules to do what is right. Because regardless of whether those people believe in him or not, they are still beloved of God. Still folks for whom, like us, he hung on that cross. Can we do any less?
Sometimes the rules are wrong. Jesus knew that and so should we. But all of us, for the sake of those whom he loves, should do what is right. Amen.
Scripture text: Matthew 1:18-25
Rules. Every human society and institution has them. Our government has rules that order life here in America. Speak freely. Worship as you please. But don’t murder. Don’t steal. Don’t run red lights. Etc. Clubs and other organizations have rules. Pay your dues. Show up for meetings. Participate in activities. So forth. Religions have rules. Honor God. Love neighbor. Be good. Families have rules. Listen to your parents. Be home by 10pm.
Everywhere you look there are rules. They guide human society and civilization. They keep things running smoothly...most of the time. Of course, since many rules are human created and human enforced, there are times when rules are unfair or unjust. When you were a kid and you finally got the tree house of your dreams and you put out that sign on the outside of it, “NO GIRLS ALOUD!” (For those of you reading this on the blog, that misspelling is deliberate.)
That’s not a fair rule. Sadly though, such unjust rules are not confined to children. We adults can do that sort of thing too.
In addition to unfair rules, there are also times when the rules probably should be waived. There are mitigating circumstances that might mean that the rules shouldn’t apply. Probably the most dramatic example of this is the insanity plea in our court system. A person has committed a horrible crime, but they didn’t completely understand what they were doing. They weren’t in their right mind. Those are mitigating circumstances. Judges and juries wrestle with whether or not to apply the rules to such a person or waive them because of mental illness and the defendant’s inability to comprehend what precisely they did.
Rules. Joseph of Nazareth struggles with what to do about the rules in our Gospel lesson today. One of the rules, certainly more strict in past times but still often potent in these times, is that you’re not supposed to have sexual relations before you’re married. You’re certainly not supposed to, if you’re a woman, get pregnant. And you’re not supposed to cheat on the person you’re in a relationship with. Yet that appears to be precisely what’s happened here. Joseph’s fiance, Mary, is pregnant and the most logical conclusion is that she got that way by fooling around with someone other than Joseph.
What’s a man to do in those circumstances?
If Joseph were the vindictive type, he could call her out publicly for what she’s done. He could shame her, make her a public embarrassment, and then walk away, breaking off their engagement with a public display of disdain and anger. He would be within his rights to that. In fact, that’s pretty much what the rules demand he do. But Joseph is not vindictive. The storyteller points out that he is a righteous man, and this is one of those circumstances where that word should not be taken sarcastically as it often is when referring to folks like the Pharisees. Joseph is the real deal. He wants to do what is right. And in this case, doing what is right means not doing what the rules demand.
Joseph decides as the story tells us to divorce her “quietly.” He doesn’t want a spectacle. No witch hunt. No lynch mob. He just wants things to go away and he wants to do it in a way that doesn’t hurt Mary. Despite the appearance of her betrayal, Joseph still wants what’s best for her. He wants to uphold her well-being. No wonder he was chosen to be Jesus’ earthly father.
Of course, the story ends with Joseph receiving a vision that tells him the whole truth. Mary has been faithful after all. This child she bears is not an ordinary one, but the promised Messiah, conceived of the Holy Spirit. Joseph changes his mind and he goes forward with marrying Mary. That too is breaking the rules. Imagine the spectacle that was! Joseph and Mary (clearly pregnant) standing before the rabbi with much of the village standing around, saying their vows to one another. Both of them with defiant grins on their faces, not caring one whit what the world thinks. Both of them knowing the truth of what God is doing with them.
They did what was right. Not what the rules demanded.
Jesus clearly followed in their footsteps. As an adult, he was a great one for rule-breaking. He ate with tax collectors. Touched lepers and bleeding women. Talked with Samaritans. Healed the servant of a Roman centurion, a Gentile invader. Defied the rules lawyers in the Pharisees and other religious authorities all the time. He did what was right, not what the rules demanded.
One could argue that even in his death, there was a defiance of the rules. He’s innocent and yet he makes no defense. He has the power to come off the cross and the justification to do so, and yet he remains up there. He has no reason to let himself die and yet he does. Because he did what was right. He died for the sake of the world, innocent blood shed for the sake of the guilty. Oh, and speaking of rules that he breaks, there’s another. What’s dead usually stays dead, but not Jesus. He didn’t obey that rule either. He returned to life and then promised the same to all of us.
But what are we to take away from all this? Well, don’t let the rule get in your way to do what is right. There have been many unfair or downright evil laws in our society. Owning another person whose skin color was different was once perfectly legal in this country. The genocide of the Native population was once legal in this country. The internment of loyal citizens whose ancestry was the same as a declared enemy was once legal in this country. None of these things were what was right and there are those in our society today who would see them become legal again.
Few in number perhaps, but they are bold and vocal. As Christians, we are called to be as Joseph was, as Jesus was. To do what is right and not always what is legal, not always what the rules demand. We must resist these voices of evil. Because if these things or other atrocities were to become legal once more, where do you think Jesus would be if he were on Earth today? He’d be in the internment camps with the immigrants or the Muslims. He’d break the rules to do what is right. Because regardless of whether those people believe in him or not, they are still beloved of God. Still folks for whom, like us, he hung on that cross. Can we do any less?
Sometimes the rules are wrong. Jesus knew that and so should we. But all of us, for the sake of those whom he loves, should do what is right. Amen.
Monday, December 12, 2016
Sermon for Third Advent
Preached at Grace Lutheran York and Canadochly Lutheran on December 11, 2016
Scripture text: Matthew 11:2-11
Expectations. Last Sunday, I spoke about how the crowds had certain expectations of John the Baptizer. He was to be their charismatic revolutionary figure, the one that would change their world for the better, throw out the Romans, bring back the throne of David, etc.
John, of course, was not that. He did not want to be that. He knew that was not his purpose, so he resisted the desires of the crowds. He was the herald of Jesus, the one preparing for the coming of the Messiah. In the end, he disappointed those hoping he was something else. He did not meet their expectations.
Fast forward to today’s Gospel lesson. Circumstances have changed. John has met Jesus, baptized him, introduced him to the world. He’s done what he came to do, but instead of going off quietly into retirement, he finds himself in prison. He’s under threat of execution. This is not what John expected would happen with his life. His expectations have not been met and he is afraid.
People who are afraid lose their confidence. They lose their certainty. They can make foolish decisions, and John is no different. He sends disciples to Jesus to ask him, “Hey, are you the real deal? Are you the one I was preparing for?”
John the Baptizer doesn’t know this? He doesn’t know that Jesus is the Messiah? Wait a minute here. He’s the one that leaped in the womb when the pregnant Mary came to visit the pregnant Elizabeth. He knew before he was born who and what Jesus was. Could it be? Could it be that John the Baptizer, the herald of the Messiah, has lost his faith? Yes, it could be. He’s afraid. His life has not turned out the way he thought it would. His expectations were not met and all of his certainties are now in question.
We’ve been there too. Probably more than once.
I was there this week. I’m there now. Two years ago, my friend Daniel died in his sleep unexpectedly of a heart attack at age 42. In the midst of my grief was also the fear that could be me. Fast forward to recent events when I discover that many of the conditions that led to his passing are ones that I have. I spent a week in the hospital a few months ago because of them. That’s not how I expected my forties to go, to be battling life-altering and even life-threatening illnesses. My expectations have not been met and I am afraid.
Last Sunday, during the fellowship time at Grace, a member (and I apologize. I will learn names eventually) pulled me aside to remind me that not all people who voted for Trump did so out of hatred and bigotry. I know that and I try to make that point clear when speaking about the election. But who are those others who are not the bigots and white supremacists? Well, they’re folks a lot like those I grew up around. I grew up in Charleston, WV, gateway to coal country. I worked 11 years in ministry on top of a mountain in WV. I was surrounded by people who believed very firmly in the American Dream, that if you just worked hard and honestly, you’d get ahead in life. There are a lot of folks who have worked hard and honestly who are falling further and further behind. Their expectations have not been met and they are afraid.
Not so different are those people who took to the streets after the election. Many of them people on the margins of our society: people of color, alternate language, LGBTQ, and so forth. Many of them concerned about the tone of the election and many of them disappointed their preferred candidate did not win. They too have not seen their expectations met and they too are afraid.
People who are afraid lose their confidence. They lose their certainty. They can make foolish decisions, and we see this all around us. It could be us. It could be people we know. It’s certainly what we see on the news each night. Even the great villains of our time. Those aforementioned white supremacists, the terrorists of ISIS; they do what they do because they are afraid.
To John’s fear, Jesus gives an answer to which we should also take heed. “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them.” The kingdom continues. God is still at work. Look not with eyes of fear, but with eyes of faith.
Life doesn’t always work out the way we think it should. We all learn that lesson fairly early on, and yet it always comes as a surprise to us despite that. And as much as we pretend that civilization makes us superior to the dumb animals in the wildernesses around us, we cave into our base animal instincts quite easily. Fight or flight in the midst of fear. But Jesus calls us to look to the good in the world, to recognize God’s hand in the midst of all that goes on in our lives.
God’s promises have not faded away in the midst of this world’s chaos and violence. They are still there in the midst of hatred and uncertainty. They are still yours and mine in the midst of broken expectations. You are still baptized. You are still claimed by the one who lived, died, and then rose again. The world may rage or cower in the midst of its unmet expectations, but God is still on the throne. Still at work. Still our loving father, eager to forgive and love.
This is Jesus’ message to John and to us. He also emphasizes it with the crowd on that day. John is the greatest, but the kingdom is still greater. We know this world, but what God is bringing is better. Do not let the disappointments of this world cloud your judgment. There is still the kingdom, God at work in this world. Making the blind to see, the lame to walk, and encouraging those imprisoned by fear.
The third Sunday of Advent is Gaudate, the Sunday of Joy. It’s the Sunday we light the pink candle of the Advent wreath (if you hold to the older liturgical tradition). It’s why I wear a pink shirt on this Sunday.
Joy is the opposite of fear and joy comes from seeing God at work in the world and in our lives. He’s there. He’s bringing the peaceable kingdom that Isaiah so poetically envisions. He’s doing the things that Jesus tells John the Baptizer, healing the sick, welcoming the stranger, changing the world. It may not always seem like it, but it is happening. God is at work, now and always. Open your eyes and see it. Amen.
Scripture text: Matthew 11:2-11
Expectations. Last Sunday, I spoke about how the crowds had certain expectations of John the Baptizer. He was to be their charismatic revolutionary figure, the one that would change their world for the better, throw out the Romans, bring back the throne of David, etc.
John, of course, was not that. He did not want to be that. He knew that was not his purpose, so he resisted the desires of the crowds. He was the herald of Jesus, the one preparing for the coming of the Messiah. In the end, he disappointed those hoping he was something else. He did not meet their expectations.
Fast forward to today’s Gospel lesson. Circumstances have changed. John has met Jesus, baptized him, introduced him to the world. He’s done what he came to do, but instead of going off quietly into retirement, he finds himself in prison. He’s under threat of execution. This is not what John expected would happen with his life. His expectations have not been met and he is afraid.
People who are afraid lose their confidence. They lose their certainty. They can make foolish decisions, and John is no different. He sends disciples to Jesus to ask him, “Hey, are you the real deal? Are you the one I was preparing for?”
John the Baptizer doesn’t know this? He doesn’t know that Jesus is the Messiah? Wait a minute here. He’s the one that leaped in the womb when the pregnant Mary came to visit the pregnant Elizabeth. He knew before he was born who and what Jesus was. Could it be? Could it be that John the Baptizer, the herald of the Messiah, has lost his faith? Yes, it could be. He’s afraid. His life has not turned out the way he thought it would. His expectations were not met and all of his certainties are now in question.
We’ve been there too. Probably more than once.
I was there this week. I’m there now. Two years ago, my friend Daniel died in his sleep unexpectedly of a heart attack at age 42. In the midst of my grief was also the fear that could be me. Fast forward to recent events when I discover that many of the conditions that led to his passing are ones that I have. I spent a week in the hospital a few months ago because of them. That’s not how I expected my forties to go, to be battling life-altering and even life-threatening illnesses. My expectations have not been met and I am afraid.
Last Sunday, during the fellowship time at Grace, a member (and I apologize. I will learn names eventually) pulled me aside to remind me that not all people who voted for Trump did so out of hatred and bigotry. I know that and I try to make that point clear when speaking about the election. But who are those others who are not the bigots and white supremacists? Well, they’re folks a lot like those I grew up around. I grew up in Charleston, WV, gateway to coal country. I worked 11 years in ministry on top of a mountain in WV. I was surrounded by people who believed very firmly in the American Dream, that if you just worked hard and honestly, you’d get ahead in life. There are a lot of folks who have worked hard and honestly who are falling further and further behind. Their expectations have not been met and they are afraid.
That look of disappointment is very genuine, I'm sure.
Not so different are those people who took to the streets after the election. Many of them people on the margins of our society: people of color, alternate language, LGBTQ, and so forth. Many of them concerned about the tone of the election and many of them disappointed their preferred candidate did not win. They too have not seen their expectations met and they too are afraid.
People who are afraid lose their confidence. They lose their certainty. They can make foolish decisions, and we see this all around us. It could be us. It could be people we know. It’s certainly what we see on the news each night. Even the great villains of our time. Those aforementioned white supremacists, the terrorists of ISIS; they do what they do because they are afraid.
To John’s fear, Jesus gives an answer to which we should also take heed. “Go and tell John what you hear and see: the blind receive their sight, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them.” The kingdom continues. God is still at work. Look not with eyes of fear, but with eyes of faith.
Life doesn’t always work out the way we think it should. We all learn that lesson fairly early on, and yet it always comes as a surprise to us despite that. And as much as we pretend that civilization makes us superior to the dumb animals in the wildernesses around us, we cave into our base animal instincts quite easily. Fight or flight in the midst of fear. But Jesus calls us to look to the good in the world, to recognize God’s hand in the midst of all that goes on in our lives.
God’s promises have not faded away in the midst of this world’s chaos and violence. They are still there in the midst of hatred and uncertainty. They are still yours and mine in the midst of broken expectations. You are still baptized. You are still claimed by the one who lived, died, and then rose again. The world may rage or cower in the midst of its unmet expectations, but God is still on the throne. Still at work. Still our loving father, eager to forgive and love.
This is Jesus’ message to John and to us. He also emphasizes it with the crowd on that day. John is the greatest, but the kingdom is still greater. We know this world, but what God is bringing is better. Do not let the disappointments of this world cloud your judgment. There is still the kingdom, God at work in this world. Making the blind to see, the lame to walk, and encouraging those imprisoned by fear.
The third Sunday of Advent is Gaudate, the Sunday of Joy. It’s the Sunday we light the pink candle of the Advent wreath (if you hold to the older liturgical tradition). It’s why I wear a pink shirt on this Sunday.
A pink Pope Francis? Oh, yes.
Joy is the opposite of fear and joy comes from seeing God at work in the world and in our lives. He’s there. He’s bringing the peaceable kingdom that Isaiah so poetically envisions. He’s doing the things that Jesus tells John the Baptizer, healing the sick, welcoming the stranger, changing the world. It may not always seem like it, but it is happening. God is at work, now and always. Open your eyes and see it. Amen.
Sermon for Second Advent
Preached at Grace Lutheran, York and Canadochly Lutheran on December 4, 2016
Scripture text: Matthew 3:1-12
So, John the Baptizer. We come into the second week of Advent with our annual introduction to Jesus’ cousin, his herald, the “voice of one crying out in the wilderness.” John is all these things and yet he remains one of the more enigmatic figures in the Gospel story. People don’t get him. They didn’t get him at the time and I’m not sure people get him now. And maybe for the same reasons.
Let’s travel back in time to the 1st century. It’s a Roman world and pretty miserable if you aren’t Roman nobility or one of their lackeys. The people are hungry for change. They’re looking for a charismatic figure to lead them into a new era. A time when things will be great again.
Sound familiar?
Ok, there’s some parallels between John’s time and our own. People were looking for political change, political revolution. John fit the bill of that charismatic figure, so people flocked to him to hear his message. His message fit their hopes in its own way also, a call for repentance. If we just get rid of sin, people reasoned, God will bless our efforts to redeem our nation.
That should sound familiar also. After all, there are a number of people (as I’ve pointed out) who voted the way they did if the mindset of “If we just get rid of (insert minority group here), God will bless our efforts to redeem our nation.” If we just get rid of sin... If we just get rid of the sinners...
The Pharisees and the other religious leaders of the day show up also to check out John. They, of course, have the most to lose if things change, so they want to know what’s what with the enemy. John excoriating them as he does (You brood of vipers) also plays into the crowd’s expectations that he’s the herald of a new political order.
But this isn’t what John is about. Matthew, whose version of John’s story we receive, is rather vague about the content of John’s message. Luke fills in those gaps by telling us that what John is preaching is a repentance that takes one from a life of selfishness to selflessness, from taking to giving, from looking out for #1 to self-sacrifice. He’s not calling for a political revolution, but for a moral one.
He is the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, prepare ye the way of the Lord. He is the herald of the Messiah, the one who is coming who will baptize with fire and change the world. Get ready.
That’s John’s purpose. That’s his job. He’s no revolutionary leader like George Washington or the late not-so-lamented Fidel. Of course, what ends up happening is a lot of these folks just transfer their revolutionary expectations from John to Jesus, which wasn’t any better. In that regard, John in some ways fails in his task. They don’t get what this is all about.
Do we?
It is very easy for us to misunderstand John’s purpose even IF we understand his call for a moral revolution. We spent so much time of our Christian life being bombarded by the idea “if we just got rid of sin, God would love us again.”
But that’s not the point of John’s call to repentance. He understands something that we often miss.
You see, if we start living a life of sacrifice and selflessness, we start to live like Jesus. And if we live like Jesus, if we act like Jesus, we might start thinking like Jesus. And if we start thinking like Jesus, we might start understanding Jesus.
You see if John’s call to repentance is a call to moral perfection, then Jesus makes no sense. Jesus shows up on the scene and he doesn’t go to the morally upright. He doesn’t hang out with the “good people.” He goes to the tax collectors, the lepers, the prostitutes. He hangs with sinners. That’s where his focus is. He’s with the poor, not eating $200 dinners with the President-elect and the powers-that-be.
But if we follow John’s counsel, we see why Jesus does this. These are the ones that need him. These are the ones who are precious to him. These are the ones that he loves. You see, as we well know as Christians, Jesus comes to save the world. The whole world. EVERYBODY if possible. That’s the plan. That’s what this scheme of God’s is about. Salvation of the whole world.
If we start living a life of sacrifice and selflessness, we start to live like Jesus. And if we live like Jesus, if we act like Jesus, we might start thinking like Jesus. And if we start thinking like Jesus, we might start understanding Jesus. And what we want starts becoming the same as what he wants. We look upon the “sinners” (however we might define them in this day and age) as precious children of God that he sees.
Considering the nature of our times, John’s call for a moral revolution is something we should all take seriously. For our society has grown frighteningly hostile to people that Jesus, were he living today, would include in his inner circle. People he loves. People he wants to save. We live in an era where threatening letters are written to mosques, where swastikas are graffitied onto churches, and schoolchildren whose skin color is not white are bullied mercilessly. This is not the world Jesus wants.
Jesus wants a world of welcome and acceptance. He loves you. He loves me. He loves all. He wants to save all people from sin and death, you, me, and everyone. To that end, he came. To that end, he was born. To the end, he died on a cross. To that end, he rose again on third day.
John knows Jesus’ purpose, but the world wasn’t ready for it. In many ways, it still isn’t. John’s work isn’t done. His moral revolution is still necessary. We, even now, need to prepare the way of the Lord. We need to open our eyes to see the world like Jesus and we need to call others to do the same. Because Christ came to save the world. Do you understand what that means? Act like Jesus, think like Jesus, and you will. Amen.
Scripture text: Matthew 3:1-12
So, John the Baptizer. We come into the second week of Advent with our annual introduction to Jesus’ cousin, his herald, the “voice of one crying out in the wilderness.” John is all these things and yet he remains one of the more enigmatic figures in the Gospel story. People don’t get him. They didn’t get him at the time and I’m not sure people get him now. And maybe for the same reasons.
Let’s travel back in time to the 1st century. It’s a Roman world and pretty miserable if you aren’t Roman nobility or one of their lackeys. The people are hungry for change. They’re looking for a charismatic figure to lead them into a new era. A time when things will be great again.
Sound familiar?
Oh, yeah...that guy.
Ok, there’s some parallels between John’s time and our own. People were looking for political change, political revolution. John fit the bill of that charismatic figure, so people flocked to him to hear his message. His message fit their hopes in its own way also, a call for repentance. If we just get rid of sin, people reasoned, God will bless our efforts to redeem our nation.
That should sound familiar also. After all, there are a number of people (as I’ve pointed out) who voted the way they did if the mindset of “If we just get rid of (insert minority group here), God will bless our efforts to redeem our nation.” If we just get rid of sin... If we just get rid of the sinners...
The Pharisees and the other religious leaders of the day show up also to check out John. They, of course, have the most to lose if things change, so they want to know what’s what with the enemy. John excoriating them as he does (You brood of vipers) also plays into the crowd’s expectations that he’s the herald of a new political order.
But this isn’t what John is about. Matthew, whose version of John’s story we receive, is rather vague about the content of John’s message. Luke fills in those gaps by telling us that what John is preaching is a repentance that takes one from a life of selfishness to selflessness, from taking to giving, from looking out for #1 to self-sacrifice. He’s not calling for a political revolution, but for a moral one.
He is the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, prepare ye the way of the Lord. He is the herald of the Messiah, the one who is coming who will baptize with fire and change the world. Get ready.
That’s John’s purpose. That’s his job. He’s no revolutionary leader like George Washington or the late not-so-lamented Fidel. Of course, what ends up happening is a lot of these folks just transfer their revolutionary expectations from John to Jesus, which wasn’t any better. In that regard, John in some ways fails in his task. They don’t get what this is all about.
Do we?
It is very easy for us to misunderstand John’s purpose even IF we understand his call for a moral revolution. We spent so much time of our Christian life being bombarded by the idea “if we just got rid of sin, God would love us again.”
"The gospel declares that no matter how dutiful or prayerful we are, we can't save ourselves. What Jesus did was sufficient." - Brennan Manning, The Ragamuffin Gospel
But that’s not the point of John’s call to repentance. He understands something that we often miss.
You see, if we start living a life of sacrifice and selflessness, we start to live like Jesus. And if we live like Jesus, if we act like Jesus, we might start thinking like Jesus. And if we start thinking like Jesus, we might start understanding Jesus.
You see if John’s call to repentance is a call to moral perfection, then Jesus makes no sense. Jesus shows up on the scene and he doesn’t go to the morally upright. He doesn’t hang out with the “good people.” He goes to the tax collectors, the lepers, the prostitutes. He hangs with sinners. That’s where his focus is. He’s with the poor, not eating $200 dinners with the President-elect and the powers-that-be.
The very author of this Gospel would have been excluded if this was all about moral perfection.
But if we follow John’s counsel, we see why Jesus does this. These are the ones that need him. These are the ones who are precious to him. These are the ones that he loves. You see, as we well know as Christians, Jesus comes to save the world. The whole world. EVERYBODY if possible. That’s the plan. That’s what this scheme of God’s is about. Salvation of the whole world.
If we start living a life of sacrifice and selflessness, we start to live like Jesus. And if we live like Jesus, if we act like Jesus, we might start thinking like Jesus. And if we start thinking like Jesus, we might start understanding Jesus. And what we want starts becoming the same as what he wants. We look upon the “sinners” (however we might define them in this day and age) as precious children of God that he sees.
Considering the nature of our times, John’s call for a moral revolution is something we should all take seriously. For our society has grown frighteningly hostile to people that Jesus, were he living today, would include in his inner circle. People he loves. People he wants to save. We live in an era where threatening letters are written to mosques, where swastikas are graffitied onto churches, and schoolchildren whose skin color is not white are bullied mercilessly. This is not the world Jesus wants.
Jesus wants a world of welcome and acceptance. He loves you. He loves me. He loves all. He wants to save all people from sin and death, you, me, and everyone. To that end, he came. To that end, he was born. To the end, he died on a cross. To that end, he rose again on third day.
John knows Jesus’ purpose, but the world wasn’t ready for it. In many ways, it still isn’t. John’s work isn’t done. His moral revolution is still necessary. We, even now, need to prepare the way of the Lord. We need to open our eyes to see the world like Jesus and we need to call others to do the same. Because Christ came to save the world. Do you understand what that means? Act like Jesus, think like Jesus, and you will. Amen.
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