Preached at Grace Lutheran, York and Canadochly Lutheran on January 22, 2017
Scripture text: Matthew 4:12-23
“Nothing happens by accident.” “There’s no such thing as coincidence.” People with a strong faith in fate and destiny will often say such things, believing that everything that happens does so for a particular reason. We Christians have plenty of reason to go along with them.
Now I’m not one to say that God causes everything to happen. I certainly don’t believe that God wishes calamity upon us. But I do think it is clear that God spends an inordinate amount of time on each one of us, molding and crafting us through the circumstances of our lives into the people he wishes us to be. In many ways, we’ve seen proof of that in these last two Gospel lessons, last Sunday’s and now today’s.
As I said in last Sunday’s sermon, it is clear that the synoptic Gospels leave out a lot of details. They want to get to the “meat” of the Jesus story, which is his work, miracles, and message, and are not as keen on spending time outlining the relationship building that Jesus does with his disciples. John, on the other hand, as we saw last week, does take that time, pointing out that Jesus’ first meeting with the fisherman did not happen at the seashore, but much earlier when John the Baptist arranged an introduction between them. What follows that introduction is the time these men take to build their relationship and friendship with one another.
Jesus takes the time; he takes the effort. And what was true then with those four fishermen is true now with each of us.
We are Chosen. That’s such a loaded word in the Scriptures. The Israelites, the ancient Hebrews, are the “Chosen People.” The Twelve Disciples are Jesus’ “Chosen” followers. And we as the Church of this generation are the “Chosen” ones today.
It goes beyond even that. God chooses Bethlehem to be the birthplace of his son as OT prophecy points out. And he chooses Galilee to be the geographic centerpiece of his ministry as our First Lesson today highlights. Why all these choices? What’s God really up to here?
Well, as I said a few moments ago, “nothing happens by accident.” God has a clear plan for the world, a plan he began with Eden, carried forward to Abraham and the Old Covenant, that moved forward into the Kingdom of Israel and its prophets, that moved forward again with Jesus and the disciples, that is now in the hands of the Church and the synagogue, and one day will finally culminate with the salvation of the world at the end of days.
You and I are a part of this grand plan. We are chosen and have our parts to play. Just as all those other people and places had their parts to play in their times.
So what is your part? What is mine? Mine is somewhat obvious, since I stand before you in this pulpit as an ordained pastor of the Church. As to yours, I cannot speak specifics because our purpose is unique to each one of us. But there are certain things in common for all of us.
Why are we chosen? To what end? To what purpose? To the answer those questions, look to the story of your own life. You will find many clues there. And we tease out those clues by looking again at the question I asked last week about why each of us are here on Sunday morning.
You choose to be here. Why? Because someone introduced you to Jesus. Someone guided you in the faith. Perhaps many someones. Perhaps they were a friend, a parent, a teacher, or even a stranger. But they caught you, just as a fisherman catches a fish. They hooked you and you have stayed here since.
You were baptized. You have been steeped in the word. You have eaten at Christ’s table in the sacrament. All these things have nurtured you. Jesus has been using these things to grow you into the person he intends you to be. To what end? So that you can go forth and hook others. “Follow you and you will catch people.” Jesus tells the men in the boat. He’s saying that to you and to me as well.
That’s why we were chosen. To catch people and tell them the good news of what God has done for them.
As I pointed out last week, evangelism takes time. If you’ve ever gone fishing, you know that it is a rare thing to land a fish on your first cast. Same thing with people. Some people will slip the hook. Others will jump out of the boat. But we’re to keep trying. Nothing happens by accident, but also nothing happens instantaneously either. Those mentors of our past did not wave a magic wand and turn us instantly into the mature believers that we are now. It took time.
We’ve heard the phrase “baby Christian” a lot recently, particularly in reference to our new President. Truth is we all started that way. We didn’t stay that way, but we became more through the patient nurturing of others. Now the shoe’s on the other foot and we are the mentors and the evangelists. This is why we were chosen. This is what we are meant to be.
Because Jesus came, as I’ve said numerous times, to save the world. The whole world. He died and rose again for all. And he wants people to know that, to believe it. To trust in it. As I somewhat jokingly have said, the Gospel can be summed up as God saying to the world “Chill. I got this.” That message isn’t going to get out unless we tell it. That message isn’t going to sink in unless we nurture and model it to others with patience and tenacity. That’s why we’re here. That’s who we’ve been called to be. It’s what it means to be Chosen.
It was true for the Hebrews and is still true for the Jews. It was true for the first disciples and all the other saints of generations past. And it is true for you and me. Go! Go and tell. Go and catch people. Amen.
Monday, January 23, 2017
Sermon for the Second Sunday after Epiphany
Preached at Grace Lutheran, York and Canadochy Lutheran on January 15, 2017
Scripture text: John 1:29-42
It’s one of the most famous stories in the Gospel narrative. Jesus comes by the seashore. Sees the fishermen Peter, Andrew, James, and John. Calls out to them to become “fishers of men” (as the old translations put it.) They drop everything and follow him. We all know the story. We’ve all heard it hundreds of times, and we’ll hear it again next Sunday as our Gospel lesson. It always makes me wonder. Why on Earth would these men just drop everything at the spur of the moment to follow this stranger? It doesn’t make any sense.
The evangelist John’s version of the story doesn’t at first seem to help matters. That’s our Gospel lesson today. He tells a completely different version of how Peter, Andrew, James, and John meet Jesus that on the surface has almost nothing to do with the fishermen at the seashore. What’s going on here?
Well, the evangelist gives us a clue. Earlier in the story we have today, we have the John the Baptist talking to his disciples about Jesus. He says openly about Jesus, “I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it remained on him.” Ah-ha! We remember that story. That was last week’s Gospel, the baptism of Jesus. But the evangelist John never tells that story in his narrative. He’s rather cleverly presuming you’ve read the other Gospels before you come to his version.
Essentially what John the evangelist is doing here is filling in the blanks. You know Jesus got baptized. You know the spirit came upon him like a dove. Here’s what happened after that. He met these guys named Peter, James, John, and Andrew. They were all introduced by John the Baptist. They hung out together. They got to know each other. They became friends.
Oh, wait a minute. If that’s what happened then now the seashore scene starts to make sense. Jesus isn’t some stranger who shows up out of nowhere. He’s their buddy. He’s their friend. They already know him thanks to John the Baptist’s introduction. They have a relationship with him. Maybe they’ve talked about why Jesus is here and what he plans to do. And now they’re being invited to be a part of it. Wow, sign me up. They drop everything and go. Now it’s no longer this insane moment. It makes sense.
For whatever reason, the authors of the synoptic Gospels chose to leave the story of the calling of the first disciples in its dramatic abbreviated form. It certainly reads dramatically with a sense of urgency and excitement. But there’s a lot more going on than they let on and it’s so easy to miss.
We’re a bit spoiled by stories like that. It makes us think that evangelism is supposed to be super-easy. We say “Jesus” to people and they’ll magically convert on the spot. But that’s not how it works even in the Bible. Last Sunday, we had Cornelius the Roman who became a Christian. That didn’t happen in a vacuum and it wasn’t just Peter that made it happen. Cornelius had been introduced to Judaism and the Old Covenant long before. He knew God, but not Jesus. The relationship was already there. It just needed one more step, a step Peter provided.
Evangelism is work. It takes relationship to really happen.
Let me tell you about Tayvon. Some of you know I run a Dungeons and Dragons game on Sunday afternoons from time to time. When we started this back in November, Tayvon showed up having never played the game, but eager to learn. So we helped him build a character to play in the game and he created this really cool dragon-man warrior with sword and shield and dragon powers to fight evil and rescue the princess and steal all the treasure and all the stuff you do in a D&D game. Tayvon’s got a real creative mind and I’ve been encouraging him to cut loose and have his character do all these cool things to win the game.
About a month ago, Tayvon got around to asking me what I do for a living in real life. I told him I was a pastor and his eyes got real big and he said, “Really? That’s so cool!” Now never in the history of anything has anyone, particularly a teenager, ever said of a clergyperson “That’s really cool,” except for this one time. Why? Because Tayvon and I have developed this relationship with one another based on respect, common interest, and encouragement. Are we the bestest of friends ever? No, but he now feels comfortable enough to ask me about Jesus. Granted, he’s a church-going Christian already, but he wants to know more and now he knows another way to do it.
That is evangelism! That’s how it works. That’s how Jesus did it. He took the effort with people. Matthew became a disciple because Jesus showed up for dinner with him. They talked. They learned about each other. Jesus took the effort.
And you! Why are you here? Oh, you might tell me you’ve been a member of this church since you were a baby and that may be completely true. But you’re an adult now. No one compels you to show up here on Sunday morning. You choose to be here. Why? Because you have that relationship with Jesus and with these other people here and that did not happen in a vacuum. Jesus has taken the effort with you. Your neighbors have taken the effort with you. You’ve taken the effort with them. You have relationship with one another and that relationship is what keeps bringing you back.
Jesus is our friend because he makes the effort to be our friend. And you know that because you’ve experienced it. You’ve heard his words in the Scriptures and in preaching. You’ve experienced his presence in the Sacraments. You’ve had encounters with him in prayer. He’s taken the effort to be your friend, just like he did with his disciples here on Earth.
I remember very clearly an encounter I had in seminary with one of my professors. He asked me how I saw my relationship with Jesus and I answered that Jesus was my friend. He scoffed at me and said that was a very juvenile way of looking at things. I disagreed then and I disagree now. Jesus has made that effort to be my friend. He loves me. He’s reached out to me. He’s been there for me. And even in his Scriptures, he says of and to his disciples (later in John’s Gospel no less), “I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father.” He’s taken the effort with you and with me.
And he calls us to do the same with his children out there in the world. Evangelism doesn’t happen overnight, as much as we might wish it did. But if we reach out in respect, compassion, and genuine love for other people, we will see miracles happen and lives change. We just have to take the effort. Amen.
Scripture text: John 1:29-42
It’s one of the most famous stories in the Gospel narrative. Jesus comes by the seashore. Sees the fishermen Peter, Andrew, James, and John. Calls out to them to become “fishers of men” (as the old translations put it.) They drop everything and follow him. We all know the story. We’ve all heard it hundreds of times, and we’ll hear it again next Sunday as our Gospel lesson. It always makes me wonder. Why on Earth would these men just drop everything at the spur of the moment to follow this stranger? It doesn’t make any sense.
The evangelist John’s version of the story doesn’t at first seem to help matters. That’s our Gospel lesson today. He tells a completely different version of how Peter, Andrew, James, and John meet Jesus that on the surface has almost nothing to do with the fishermen at the seashore. What’s going on here?
Well, the evangelist gives us a clue. Earlier in the story we have today, we have the John the Baptist talking to his disciples about Jesus. He says openly about Jesus, “I saw the Spirit descending from heaven like a dove, and it remained on him.” Ah-ha! We remember that story. That was last week’s Gospel, the baptism of Jesus. But the evangelist John never tells that story in his narrative. He’s rather cleverly presuming you’ve read the other Gospels before you come to his version.
Essentially what John the evangelist is doing here is filling in the blanks. You know Jesus got baptized. You know the spirit came upon him like a dove. Here’s what happened after that. He met these guys named Peter, James, John, and Andrew. They were all introduced by John the Baptist. They hung out together. They got to know each other. They became friends.
Oh, wait a minute. If that’s what happened then now the seashore scene starts to make sense. Jesus isn’t some stranger who shows up out of nowhere. He’s their buddy. He’s their friend. They already know him thanks to John the Baptist’s introduction. They have a relationship with him. Maybe they’ve talked about why Jesus is here and what he plans to do. And now they’re being invited to be a part of it. Wow, sign me up. They drop everything and go. Now it’s no longer this insane moment. It makes sense.
For whatever reason, the authors of the synoptic Gospels chose to leave the story of the calling of the first disciples in its dramatic abbreviated form. It certainly reads dramatically with a sense of urgency and excitement. But there’s a lot more going on than they let on and it’s so easy to miss.
We’re a bit spoiled by stories like that. It makes us think that evangelism is supposed to be super-easy. We say “Jesus” to people and they’ll magically convert on the spot. But that’s not how it works even in the Bible. Last Sunday, we had Cornelius the Roman who became a Christian. That didn’t happen in a vacuum and it wasn’t just Peter that made it happen. Cornelius had been introduced to Judaism and the Old Covenant long before. He knew God, but not Jesus. The relationship was already there. It just needed one more step, a step Peter provided.
Evangelism is work. It takes relationship to really happen.
Let me tell you about Tayvon. Some of you know I run a Dungeons and Dragons game on Sunday afternoons from time to time. When we started this back in November, Tayvon showed up having never played the game, but eager to learn. So we helped him build a character to play in the game and he created this really cool dragon-man warrior with sword and shield and dragon powers to fight evil and rescue the princess and steal all the treasure and all the stuff you do in a D&D game. Tayvon’s got a real creative mind and I’ve been encouraging him to cut loose and have his character do all these cool things to win the game.
How Tayvon envisions himself in-game. Pic by psuede via Pinterest
About a month ago, Tayvon got around to asking me what I do for a living in real life. I told him I was a pastor and his eyes got real big and he said, “Really? That’s so cool!” Now never in the history of anything has anyone, particularly a teenager, ever said of a clergyperson “That’s really cool,” except for this one time. Why? Because Tayvon and I have developed this relationship with one another based on respect, common interest, and encouragement. Are we the bestest of friends ever? No, but he now feels comfortable enough to ask me about Jesus. Granted, he’s a church-going Christian already, but he wants to know more and now he knows another way to do it.
That is evangelism! That’s how it works. That’s how Jesus did it. He took the effort with people. Matthew became a disciple because Jesus showed up for dinner with him. They talked. They learned about each other. Jesus took the effort.
And you! Why are you here? Oh, you might tell me you’ve been a member of this church since you were a baby and that may be completely true. But you’re an adult now. No one compels you to show up here on Sunday morning. You choose to be here. Why? Because you have that relationship with Jesus and with these other people here and that did not happen in a vacuum. Jesus has taken the effort with you. Your neighbors have taken the effort with you. You’ve taken the effort with them. You have relationship with one another and that relationship is what keeps bringing you back.
Jesus is our friend because he makes the effort to be our friend. And you know that because you’ve experienced it. You’ve heard his words in the Scriptures and in preaching. You’ve experienced his presence in the Sacraments. You’ve had encounters with him in prayer. He’s taken the effort to be your friend, just like he did with his disciples here on Earth.
I remember very clearly an encounter I had in seminary with one of my professors. He asked me how I saw my relationship with Jesus and I answered that Jesus was my friend. He scoffed at me and said that was a very juvenile way of looking at things. I disagreed then and I disagree now. Jesus has made that effort to be my friend. He loves me. He’s reached out to me. He’s been there for me. And even in his Scriptures, he says of and to his disciples (later in John’s Gospel no less), “I have called you friends, because I have made known to you everything that I have heard from my Father.” He’s taken the effort with you and with me.
And he calls us to do the same with his children out there in the world. Evangelism doesn’t happen overnight, as much as we might wish it did. But if we reach out in respect, compassion, and genuine love for other people, we will see miracles happen and lives change. We just have to take the effort. Amen.
Monday, January 9, 2017
Sermon for the Baptism of Our Lord
Preached at Grace Lutheran, York and Canadochly Lutheran on January 8, 2017
Preaching text: Acts 10:34-43
It was a typical day on the Internet. One of my more politically conservative friends had posted a meme to Facebook about our outgoing President. It said something to the effect of “Obama has a Muslim name. He went to a Muslim school. He lived in one of the largest Muslim countries for most of his childhood (Indonesia). At what point did he become a Christian?” *sigh*
I can’t believe people are still beating this dead horse. It makes me ask two questions. First, suppose for the sake of argument, he does believe in the Islamic faith. So what? The vast vast vast majority of Muslims worldwide are not terrorists. We may disagree with them on matters of faith, but otherwise they’re pretty much just like us. Just wanting to make their way in the world. Raise their families. Make a decent living. Just like you and me.
The second question is what about people like Khadijah Islam? The young woman interviewed in this month’s Living Lutheran magazine, talking about her Lutheran faith and heritage. You don’t get a much more Islamic name than to have the word “Islam” as your surname. Is her Christian faith suspect too because of her name? Because of her Arab ethnicity?
The simple fact of the matter is that we human beings, everyone of us, is infinitely complex. There’s always more to us than there appears. One of my great frustrations with bigotry is how lazy it is.
I know Joe. Joe is a bad person. Joe also just happens to be black...or Latino...or gay...or whatever. Because Joe is bad and this other thing, therefore all people who are that thing must be bad. That’s the basic logic of bigotry. It’s stupid and it’s lazy. There’s a whole lot more to people than just those surface realities. But because we choose to not seek that deeper truth about people, people cease to be people and they simply become a label. That’s not a person with passions, hopes, dreams, desires, experiences, memories, opinions, and everything else that makes us who we are. No, they’re just black or gay or Muslim and that’s all they are.
Jesus knew better and so should we.
But, in fairness, even the disciples took a while to learn this lesson. Take Peter for instance. He was there for everything. He was there for the Beatitudes and the sermon on the mount. He was there when Jesus walked on water (and did a little of that himself.) He was there when Jesus fed the 5000. He was there for the crucifixion and the resurrection.
He was also there when Jesus healed the Roman centurion’s servant. He was also there when Jesus ate with Matthew and Zaccheus and all the other tax collectors and sinners. He was there when Jesus healed the woman with 7-year-hemorrhage. He was there when he spoke to the Samaritan woman at the well. He was there when the sinful woman (likely a prostitute) anointed Jesus’ feet and washed them with her hair. All of those things were forbidden to a good Jewish boy like Jesus. All of those people were persona non grata to the religious establishment. Jesus, Son of God and Son of Man, DID NOT CARE. They were children of God, created in his image, and as such precious to the Father. So he ministered to them, regardless of what others might have said or thought.
Did Peter get it after witnessing all that? Nope. Old habits are hard to break and he was raised in that environment with all those rules about who you associate with and who you don’t. That’s his “default setting,” as it were. So when Peter is on his own, doing his own apostolic ministry in Jesus’ name, what’s he to do when a bunch of Romans show up at this door? Romans. The occupiers. The tyrants. Those people who have robbed Israel of its freedom. The enemy. And here they are, a bunch of them asking about Jesus.
People are not always what they appear. Everyone of us is infinitely complex. And God knows that. But Peter needs a little extra pushing. So he receives a vision from God to convince him to go with these Romans. He does so. He preaches to them about Jesus and witnesses the Holy Spirit come upon them. On Romans. On “those people.” Our second lesson is his response to witnessing that. He finally gets it.
Do we?
Our society is increasing its demands on us to be suspicious of or even hostile to those different from us. But that’s our mission field, those who are different. Every person is fearfully and wonderfully made as the psalmist so poetically puts it. Every person precious to God, each one a beloved child. Yeah, some of them may not believe in him. So what? Yeah, some of them don’t look like us. So what? Yeah, some of them don’t speak the same language. So what? You never know what God’s going to do, but we know what we’re supposed to do. Love them like Jesus did. Serve them like Jesus would have. Be there for and with them as Jesus is. As Luther puts it, we are “little Christs” to one another and to the world.
As I’ve said numerous times in these sermons, Jesus came for everyone. Peter’s encounter with the Roman household of Cornelius in Acts is proof of that. When Jesus enters into the waters of the Jordan and John objects, we always find it curious what Jesus says in response. “Let it be so to fulfill all righteousness.” Jesus isn’t there to repent, but to dedicate himself to the purpose of saving the world. The whole world. Everyone if possible. That is his idea of righteousness. It takes him all the way to the cross and the empty tomb. All of it done for people like you and me and all those folks who are different from us.
The next move is ours. There’s a great big world out there. And it needs a whole lot of love in these times of stress and fear. We know what we have to do. Time to get busy. Amen.
Preaching text: Acts 10:34-43
It was a typical day on the Internet. One of my more politically conservative friends had posted a meme to Facebook about our outgoing President. It said something to the effect of “Obama has a Muslim name. He went to a Muslim school. He lived in one of the largest Muslim countries for most of his childhood (Indonesia). At what point did he become a Christian?” *sigh*
The Conspiracy theory that WILL NOT die.
I can’t believe people are still beating this dead horse. It makes me ask two questions. First, suppose for the sake of argument, he does believe in the Islamic faith. So what? The vast vast vast majority of Muslims worldwide are not terrorists. We may disagree with them on matters of faith, but otherwise they’re pretty much just like us. Just wanting to make their way in the world. Raise their families. Make a decent living. Just like you and me.
The second question is what about people like Khadijah Islam? The young woman interviewed in this month’s Living Lutheran magazine, talking about her Lutheran faith and heritage. You don’t get a much more Islamic name than to have the word “Islam” as your surname. Is her Christian faith suspect too because of her name? Because of her Arab ethnicity?
The simple fact of the matter is that we human beings, everyone of us, is infinitely complex. There’s always more to us than there appears. One of my great frustrations with bigotry is how lazy it is.
I know Joe. Joe is a bad person. Joe also just happens to be black...or Latino...or gay...or whatever. Because Joe is bad and this other thing, therefore all people who are that thing must be bad. That’s the basic logic of bigotry. It’s stupid and it’s lazy. There’s a whole lot more to people than just those surface realities. But because we choose to not seek that deeper truth about people, people cease to be people and they simply become a label. That’s not a person with passions, hopes, dreams, desires, experiences, memories, opinions, and everything else that makes us who we are. No, they’re just black or gay or Muslim and that’s all they are.
Jesus knew better and so should we.
But, in fairness, even the disciples took a while to learn this lesson. Take Peter for instance. He was there for everything. He was there for the Beatitudes and the sermon on the mount. He was there when Jesus walked on water (and did a little of that himself.) He was there when Jesus fed the 5000. He was there for the crucifixion and the resurrection.
He was also there when Jesus healed the Roman centurion’s servant. He was also there when Jesus ate with Matthew and Zaccheus and all the other tax collectors and sinners. He was there when Jesus healed the woman with 7-year-hemorrhage. He was there when he spoke to the Samaritan woman at the well. He was there when the sinful woman (likely a prostitute) anointed Jesus’ feet and washed them with her hair. All of those things were forbidden to a good Jewish boy like Jesus. All of those people were persona non grata to the religious establishment. Jesus, Son of God and Son of Man, DID NOT CARE. They were children of God, created in his image, and as such precious to the Father. So he ministered to them, regardless of what others might have said or thought.
Did Peter get it after witnessing all that? Nope. Old habits are hard to break and he was raised in that environment with all those rules about who you associate with and who you don’t. That’s his “default setting,” as it were. So when Peter is on his own, doing his own apostolic ministry in Jesus’ name, what’s he to do when a bunch of Romans show up at this door? Romans. The occupiers. The tyrants. Those people who have robbed Israel of its freedom. The enemy. And here they are, a bunch of them asking about Jesus.
People are not always what they appear. Everyone of us is infinitely complex. And God knows that. But Peter needs a little extra pushing. So he receives a vision from God to convince him to go with these Romans. He does so. He preaches to them about Jesus and witnesses the Holy Spirit come upon them. On Romans. On “those people.” Our second lesson is his response to witnessing that. He finally gets it.
Do we?
Our society is increasing its demands on us to be suspicious of or even hostile to those different from us. But that’s our mission field, those who are different. Every person is fearfully and wonderfully made as the psalmist so poetically puts it. Every person precious to God, each one a beloved child. Yeah, some of them may not believe in him. So what? Yeah, some of them don’t look like us. So what? Yeah, some of them don’t speak the same language. So what? You never know what God’s going to do, but we know what we’re supposed to do. Love them like Jesus did. Serve them like Jesus would have. Be there for and with them as Jesus is. As Luther puts it, we are “little Christs” to one another and to the world.
As I’ve said numerous times in these sermons, Jesus came for everyone. Peter’s encounter with the Roman household of Cornelius in Acts is proof of that. When Jesus enters into the waters of the Jordan and John objects, we always find it curious what Jesus says in response. “Let it be so to fulfill all righteousness.” Jesus isn’t there to repent, but to dedicate himself to the purpose of saving the world. The whole world. Everyone if possible. That is his idea of righteousness. It takes him all the way to the cross and the empty tomb. All of it done for people like you and me and all those folks who are different from us.
The next move is ours. There’s a great big world out there. And it needs a whole lot of love in these times of stress and fear. We know what we have to do. Time to get busy. Amen.
Monday, January 2, 2017
Sermon for the First Sunday of Christmas
Preached at Grace Lutheran, York and Canadochly Lutheran on January 1, 2017
Scripture text: Matthew 2:13-23
I preached on Christmas Eve of my need for a real Christmas. Real as in one anchored in the real world, with all of its pain and ugliness, not a fairy tale that glosses over those things as so many in this time of year try to do. I said I needed it because of those ugly things, because it is pain and anguish that Jesus came to deliver us from.
Thankfully, Christmas is real and it did happen in the real world. And if anyone ever doubts that, they have only to keep reading in Matthew’s Gospel. After the shepherds are gone back to their fields and the magi have come with their gifts, the third arrival to the manger are the soldiers. Sent by Herod the Great, whose descriptive nicely glosses over his notorious brutality, with murder on their minds. And murder they do, every male child under the age of two in Bethlehem. Just to make sure Jesus didn’t escape (which thankfully, he did.)
We call this atrocity the slaughter of the Holy Innocents and it stands as our Gospel lesson today. It is a shocking imposition of the real world into the Christmas story. Children murdered! By the very soldiers and king who are supposed to be their guardians and protectors. But that’s how the real world works. The most vulnerable often suffer the most.
Two thousand years later and things have not changed much. The vulnerable still suffer. Few if any of us will forget the image of the young boy, covered in blood and soot and ash, from the city of Aleppo. His face shell-shocked by the things he’s seen.
His name is Omran Daqneesh and he has seen horrors that would shock any of us. But lest we think such nightmares confined to the far reaches of the world, our own American city of Chicago saw 50 people shot, 11 of them killed, over the Christmas holiday. How many of them have young siblings or children of their own?
Or our own government? With some of the powers-that-be determined to let children starve in order to punish the tiny fraction of people who abuse our social welfare system. Less than one-tenth of a percent, I believe. What happens to the millions who depend on food stamps to eat, many of them children? There’s a dangerous irony in the pro-life movement of this country. Too many are eager to save babies, but will vote against helping children. That’s not pro-life, not really. If we truly want to be pro-life, we have to fight for both.
Evil does not sleep in our world. St. Paul himself once wrote of the devil, the personification of evil in our world, as a lion seeking someone to devour. We are too quick to forget this lesson. We forget our own capability to be evil. We forget the capability of those like us to be evil. And we forget the world’s eagerness to inflict pain and suffering whenever and wherever it can.
It’s tempting, I know, to want to look away. Guilt at our own failures and vices is an uncomfortable feeling. Seeing the enormity of the world’s evil can feel overwhelming. Escape is always a tempting out. Hide away. Ignore it. But that child in the manger came because of it. He came to put an end to it. He came to show us a better way, a better life, a kingdom of heaven where the vulnerable are protected, the sick cared for, the voiceless spoken for, the poor given aid, and no one gets left behind.
WE are disciples of that child in the manger. He came to save the world, everyone if possible. From the smallest child to the most venerable elderly, each life precious to him. Can we do any less? Can we turn our backs on those that he loves?
No. We are Christians and that word means something. To too many in this country and this world, it’s become associated with evil. It’s past time to change that. Past time we became who we were meant to be as Christ’s disciples and followers. Past time, we started spreading that kingdom, showing the world that better way. A way of love and compassion and care and kindness. A way that truly fights for life for all people, that combats evil with good.
It may not be easy for all of us. But this is what we’re called to do. That child in the manger came to save the world from evil, from sin. He taught us what that looked like with his parables and his sayings and his commandments. He showed us what that looked like with his miracles. And then, at the last, he went to a cross to die for the sake of all of us. All of us.
We like to talk about how “all lives matter.” Well, to Jesus, they really do. Even if they don’t believe in him. Even if they don’t act like us or think like us. All means all to him. He came for all. He was born for all. He lived and taught and did his miracles for all. He died for all. And he rose again for all.
If we want an answer for the evil of this world, there it is. The love of a God who won’t give up on us, who sent his son to redeem this fallen world. To save us all from sin and evil. To bring life instead of death. This is our hope and salvation, but it’s not ours alone. We are meant to share it as far and wide as possible. You know what you have to do. You know where you have to go. Go ye therefore. Amen.
Scripture text: Matthew 2:13-23
I preached on Christmas Eve of my need for a real Christmas. Real as in one anchored in the real world, with all of its pain and ugliness, not a fairy tale that glosses over those things as so many in this time of year try to do. I said I needed it because of those ugly things, because it is pain and anguish that Jesus came to deliver us from.
Thankfully, Christmas is real and it did happen in the real world. And if anyone ever doubts that, they have only to keep reading in Matthew’s Gospel. After the shepherds are gone back to their fields and the magi have come with their gifts, the third arrival to the manger are the soldiers. Sent by Herod the Great, whose descriptive nicely glosses over his notorious brutality, with murder on their minds. And murder they do, every male child under the age of two in Bethlehem. Just to make sure Jesus didn’t escape (which thankfully, he did.)
Picture from Pinterest
We call this atrocity the slaughter of the Holy Innocents and it stands as our Gospel lesson today. It is a shocking imposition of the real world into the Christmas story. Children murdered! By the very soldiers and king who are supposed to be their guardians and protectors. But that’s how the real world works. The most vulnerable often suffer the most.
Two thousand years later and things have not changed much. The vulnerable still suffer. Few if any of us will forget the image of the young boy, covered in blood and soot and ash, from the city of Aleppo. His face shell-shocked by the things he’s seen.
Picture from NPR.com
Or our own government? With some of the powers-that-be determined to let children starve in order to punish the tiny fraction of people who abuse our social welfare system. Less than one-tenth of a percent, I believe. What happens to the millions who depend on food stamps to eat, many of them children? There’s a dangerous irony in the pro-life movement of this country. Too many are eager to save babies, but will vote against helping children. That’s not pro-life, not really. If we truly want to be pro-life, we have to fight for both.
Evil does not sleep in our world. St. Paul himself once wrote of the devil, the personification of evil in our world, as a lion seeking someone to devour. We are too quick to forget this lesson. We forget our own capability to be evil. We forget the capability of those like us to be evil. And we forget the world’s eagerness to inflict pain and suffering whenever and wherever it can.
It’s tempting, I know, to want to look away. Guilt at our own failures and vices is an uncomfortable feeling. Seeing the enormity of the world’s evil can feel overwhelming. Escape is always a tempting out. Hide away. Ignore it. But that child in the manger came because of it. He came to put an end to it. He came to show us a better way, a better life, a kingdom of heaven where the vulnerable are protected, the sick cared for, the voiceless spoken for, the poor given aid, and no one gets left behind.
WE are disciples of that child in the manger. He came to save the world, everyone if possible. From the smallest child to the most venerable elderly, each life precious to him. Can we do any less? Can we turn our backs on those that he loves?
No. We are Christians and that word means something. To too many in this country and this world, it’s become associated with evil. It’s past time to change that. Past time we became who we were meant to be as Christ’s disciples and followers. Past time, we started spreading that kingdom, showing the world that better way. A way of love and compassion and care and kindness. A way that truly fights for life for all people, that combats evil with good.
- Don’t like gays? Jesus loves them. We need to love them too.
- Think the poor are lazy and worthless? Jesus loves them. We need to love them too.
- Think the rich are heartless thieves? Jesus loves them. We need to love them too.
- Don’t like blacks or immigrants or old people or millennials? Jesus loves them. We need to love them too.
- Don’t trust Muslims and think they’re all terrorists? Well, take a guess.
It may not be easy for all of us. But this is what we’re called to do. That child in the manger came to save the world from evil, from sin. He taught us what that looked like with his parables and his sayings and his commandments. He showed us what that looked like with his miracles. And then, at the last, he went to a cross to die for the sake of all of us. All of us.
We like to talk about how “all lives matter.” Well, to Jesus, they really do. Even if they don’t believe in him. Even if they don’t act like us or think like us. All means all to him. He came for all. He was born for all. He lived and taught and did his miracles for all. He died for all. And he rose again for all.
If we want an answer for the evil of this world, there it is. The love of a God who won’t give up on us, who sent his son to redeem this fallen world. To save us all from sin and evil. To bring life instead of death. This is our hope and salvation, but it’s not ours alone. We are meant to share it as far and wide as possible. You know what you have to do. You know where you have to go. Go ye therefore. Amen.
Image from azquotes.com
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