Sermon for the Third Sunday after Epiphany

Preached on January 27, 2019 at Grace and Canadochly
Preaching Text: Luke 4:1-8

It isn’t any wonder why we killed him.

It sounds good though. What Jesus preaches in his visit to his home synagogue. Quoting Isaiah 61, Jesus proclaims this prophecy fulfilled in himself. And what a wondrous prophecy it is. Good news to the poor. Release to the captives. Vision to the blind. Freedom to the oppressed. All sounds great...until you see what it looks like in practice.

The poor? Who cares about them? And I mean really. Our society condemns the poor, blames for their plight. The American myth is that poverty is a moral failing, the result of laziness, substance abuse, or some other vice. Social media is filled with memes about how we cannot help the poor at our borders because we have so many poor here, and yet very little is ever done for them either. The poor remain poor and we like it that way.

Captives? Our nation has the highest prison population per capita of the civilized world. The face that many within those walls are being punished far beyond what their crimes would otherwise dictate is irrelevant. Some are even outright innocent. We don’t care. The thought of letting them go, setting them free, is terrifying. What if we’re wrong? What if they’re really bad people after all? Better to keep them behind bars where we’re safe from them. Keep in the jail, we like it that way.

Vision to the blind? Or perhaps more broadly, health to the sick and disabled. Well, only if it doesn’t cost too much. But as we all know, it always does. Cure them, but don’t you dare inconvenience me with the costs of their care. If that’s what it takes, let them rot.

And that’s just physical blindness. We’re no hurry to see spiritual blindness or intellectual blindness cured either. To see our fellow humans as brothers and sisters? Nope, let me cling to my prejudices and bigotry. To understand how we can solve the complexities of our problems? No, let me listen to the lies of charlatans who tell me the problems are simple, if only we condemn those people or that group and damn them for causing all this.

The oppressed deserve it. That’s why they’re treated the way they are. That’s the lie we tell ourselves, a means and a mechanism our society uses to excuse our racism, sexism, Islamophobia, homophobia, and every other form of bigotry we exercise.

It’s not a pretty picture, but it is the truth of who we are. And it’s nothing new. When Jesus first spoke these words, the crowd had similar reactions. Their society too had settled into a comfortable norm, villainizing the poor, sick, and outcast of their time just as we do ours today. And no rabble-rousing rabbi was going to change all that. They nailed him to a cross when he proved too much trouble.

But Jesus isn’t interested in preserving a comfortable status quo. If so, why show up at all? No, the Son of God has come to change things, to flip the world upside down. That’s the kingdom of God. A place where all these frightening realities come to pass.

Because it’s the right thing to do. The just thing. The merciful thing. The godly thing. But it is not the comfortable thing. Nor is it the safe thing.

It is perhaps the saddest irony of the past 2000 years of history is that the religion of Jesus, a religion which set out to transform this world, has instead become the stalwart defender of all he sought to change. We sit and we fuss and fret about whether the doors will stay open, never mind those outside who have no roof over their head. We worry about empty pews instead of empty hearts or empty bellies. And we question how the church has come to be this way after so much success in the 20th century, but never ever ask why the poor get poorer, the prisons get fuller, the oppression grows worse, and the people become more and more blind to it all.

The answer is before us all.

Jesus came to this world to do precisely what Isaiah proclaimed. Because what Isaiah proclaimed was what God promised to Abraham and the patriarchs. It’s the Old Covenant and Jesus is the one promised therein. And he came to bring good news, and to set free the captive, and to give sight to the blind, and proclaim freedom to the oppressed. To bring the kingdom of God. Good news, because no one will ever lack in the kingdom. Sight, because God’s love will be our vision. Freedom, because all the guilty have been declared innocent.

And if that’s not the reality we, as the Church, proclaim and live towards, no wonder we’re failing and floundering. The pews stay empty because so often, we do not practice what Jesus preached.

I’m not up here to entertain you. I’m up here to motivate you. We have been given a priceless gift in the salvation of Christ. He died on a cross for you and for me. He rose again to give us life eternal. But he’s not satisfied with just us. He does, as I’ve said numerous times, love all people. He loves the blind, the poor, the prisoner, and the oppressed, but he does not love how we make them so.

So what are we going to do about that? The answer to that question is, and always should have been, our mission. Christianity is not a religion for safety. It is and is meant to be a faith that will change the world. And there will always be pushback from those who benefit most from keeping the poor poor, the sick sick, and the captives imprisoned. The rolls of history are filled with the names of people killed to shut us up, not the least of which was the man we honored just this past week, Martin Luther King Jr. But if you’re as tired as I am of the world being as ugly as it is, then Jesus is calling us to do as he did.

As I was driving to the office on Friday morning, I heard the old hair-metal band Poison on the radio. Their song: Give Me Something to Believe In. It sounds like a prayer to me. The world praying for the Church to be the Church again. The song’s third verse goes like this.

I drive by the homeless sleeping on
A cold dark street
Like bodies in an open grave
Underneath the broken old neon sign
That used to read
Jesus Saves
A mile away live the rich folks
And I see how they're living it up
While the poor they eat from hand to mouth
The rich is drinkin' from a golden cup
And it just makes me wonder
Why so many lose, so few win

Jesus is asking you. What are you going to do about that? Amen.

Sermon for the Second Sunday after Epiphany

Preached on January 20, 2019 at Canadochly (Grace closed due to weather)
Preaching text: John 2

Oh, goodie. It’s that time again. Time for Pastor Allen to preach on the Wedding at Cana. Time for me to remind y’all what this little miracle story is really about. Time to talk about something a lot Christians, for some strange reason, think is taboo and anathema. Time to talk about how Jesus wants our lives to be FUN.

“I came that they may have life and have it abundantly.” Jesus says elsewhere in the Gospels. But what does Jesus mean when he says “life abundantly?” Well, in this miracle, he shows us what he means.

We all know the story. We all just heard it. Jesus goes to a wedding for a family friend in the village of Cana, right next door to Nazareth. Next village over. While he’s there, the host commits the worst of all party fouls; They run out of booze. There’s no more wine. Mary goes to Jesus and gives him the news. At first, Jesus tries to blow Mom off, but we all know how well that works, so he gives in, tells the servants to fill up the jars of purification, and then take some of it to the steward. The water turns to wine, the steward is impressed enough to compliment the bridegroom on his choices, and the party resumes full force.

There are a few things people tend to miss in his story, and I believe those misses are deliberate. First off, this is a wedding feast and that is a party. This is when the villagers pull out all the stops. Feasting and drinking and laughing and all that. It’s a time of fun and joy and happiness. This is a good time to be had by all. Now, I don’t know about y’all here in York County, but I grew up in West Virginia and we were surrounded by Southern Baptists and other Christians of the fundamentalist sort. The thought of Jesus going to a raucous party and smiling and laughing and having a good time would have, to borrow a phrase, given a lot of my fellow Christians “the vapors.”

And if they think that’s bad, it gets worse. I served my first church in Davis, WV and there is still an active chapter of the Women’s Christian Temperance Movement in that town. You know, the group that lobbied for Prohibition about 100 years ago? Yeah, they’re still around. I wonder what they think of Jesus creating 180 gallons of wine for this party. Yeah, John tells us the amount in his text. Do a little math and you discover that Jesus created 180 GALLONS of wine for this party. Now I’ve been to some wild shindigs in my day but none of them had that much to drink.

I’m poking fun here in part because that’s the point of this story. For many of the Christians I’ve encountered in life, it seems they believe the life of a faithful disciple is to be a life of misery and boredom. But here we see Jesus is having fun and that he wants the people around him to have fun. This is a fun story, a funny story even. You supposed to chuckle at the extravagance of it all. It’s so over-the-top.

Some might critique me by saying I’m not being pious or theological enough when approaching this miracle story. But why does piety and theology have to be so blasted dry and dull? We worship a God who delights in us and calls us beloved. When you love something, do you want it to exist in misery or in joy? Do you want it to be sad or happy? Do you want it to frown or to smile and laugh? The answers are obvious. Because God loves us, he wants us to have joy.

Life is a gift. Your life is a gift. Your experiences, your family, your friends, your interests, your passions, all these are given so that you may have joy. Sure, life gets hard at times. Life gets tough. God know, I understand that as well as anyone. Five times in the hospital in the last three years. Many of you can tell similar stories, stories of pain and loss and struggle. But I also know that isn’t what God wants for us. He doesn’t want us to hurt. He doesn’t want us to have pain and sorrow. He wants us to have life. Abundant life.

And that is the whole point behind God’s plan. When things went south because of sin, God knew how it would interfere with his hopes and desires for us, with our ability to have joy and happiness. Thus, he made the Old Covenant with Abraham, promised him the salvation of Christ would eventually come through him, and then made good on that promise in the birth of Jesus. Jesus, of course, demonstrated God’s desire for us to have joyous and abundant life by nearly all that he did. Sickness ruins joy. Jesus healed it. Hunger ruins joy. Jesus fed the multitudes. Loneliness ruins joy. Jesus welcomed the stranger and outcast.

And, of course, sin ruins joy. So Jesus forgave it from the cross.

The end result of this is not that we are to live lives of drudgery and sorrow, but lives of joy. Jesus takes our burdens upon himself so that we can have true life, abundant life, joyous life.

God wants your life filled with joy and fun. I know that doesn’t always seem to happen for ourselves or for others. So here’s the thing, if joy is lacking, find a way to bring it. Give joy to others however you can. Giving a smile or a compliment costs us nothing, but can spread joy far and wide. Give the gift that you’ve been given to those who, for whatever reason, don’t realize they have it too.

God has promised you an abundance of life. He has sealed that promise by giving his very life for you on the cross and he revealed that promise in a goofy little story about turning water into a flood of wine. Life is a gift. Treasure it. Enjoy it. Amen.

Sermon for the Baptism of Jesus

Preached at Canadochly on January 13, 2019 (Grace closed due to weather)
Preaching text: Luke 3:15-22

“What a long strange trip it has been.” I swear that will be my epitaph, the quote that will grace my tombstone for generations to come. Because that’s been a good descriptor of my life so far and I don’t imagine that changing for years yet to come. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. God has been good to me throughout the years of my life. I see hand in all sorts of things that have happened to me. Long and strange, perhaps, but also wondrous.

I’m reflecting on this because today is the festival of the baptism of our Lord and that’s got me thinking about my own baptismal journey. My baptismal anniversary is January 7, 1973; 46 years ago this past Monday. I remember that date because A) my baptismal cert hangs on my office wall and B) there was a post on the Facebook ELCA page asking if people remembered their baptismal date, to which I read and replied. I loved hearing the baptismal stories of others, the journeys God has taken others on. Many of them were far more strange and wondrous than mine, but I’m not jealous. I love my life, even if it’s not perfect and occasionally quite difficult, and I wouldn’t trade it for anything.

Part of that is how the grace of God works in people’s lives. His preference, really, for taking some of the least likely people to do the most extraordinary things. Myself included. I am not a people person. Stick me in front of a video screen or in a library full of books with no human contact whatsoever and I will be happy as can be. And yet, here I am, a pastor now for 18 years (that anniversary, my ordination, also just passed recently. December 28, 2001.)

In many ways, THAT is really what I want to talk about today. How God uses people like you and me to change the world in profound ways. And that ties in very much so with what we read in Scripture today.

There’s always that question that surrounds this particular event that we remember today. Why? John’s baptism of one of repentance for the forgiveness of sins. Repentance means “turning around,” changing, doing things differently than you did them before, presumably because you were doing something wrong and need to do it right. Jesus comes to John for baptism, yet he is without sin. He is without error. There is no need for him to repent of anything. No need for him to be forgiven of anything. Why then is he there?

Even John is confused by this. Although Luke omits it, the Baptizer objects to Jesus being there. As Matthew tells us, John tries to reverse things. “I should be baptized by you.” He says to his cousin. But Jesus insists. Again, why?

Because baptism has a two-fold purpose and this is true for our own baptisms as well. One, yes, it is about forgiveness and repentance. It is about God’s choice to make us a part of his family, to bind himself to us via the Holy Spirit, something which sin does not normally allow. God says in baptism, “Your sin no longer matters. It is forgiven. I love you and you are mine.” This is, of course, the part that Jesus doesn’t need.

But then there’s part two. Part two is where we say to God, “Yes, Lord, I will do with my life what you wish me to do.” That’s the part we often miss. You see, Jesus has a choice. He’s human. He has free-will. And he can choose to do whatever he wants with his life, just like we can. He doesn’t have to live out his destiny. He’s not required to obey God’s plan for his life. He can do whatever he pleases. But he submits to baptism because he has made a choice with that free-will and his choice is to go where God would have him go and do what God would have him do.

And you and I, we too have that choice.

I said yes to God once and it led me to seminary and 18 years of ministry as a pastor of the church. Not quite what I expected (although others, like my mother, would tell it was obvious to them.) But what about you? What does it mean for you to say yes to God’s call? And, of course, saying yes at age 10 or 15 or 20 is a whole lot different than saying yes at 65 or 70 or 80. A person working will have a different call than one who is a student or a retiree. But some things don’t change.

That call will always be to put others first, to serve them as Christ would. That call will always be to make the world a better place, to better show the kingdom of God to those not yet a part of it. That call will always be to welcome the stranger, to heal the sick, to bind up the broken-hearted, to speak for the voiceless, in whatever way you can. That call will always be to show them Jesus by what we say and do. The details may change for who you are and where you are in life, but those generalities will be constant.

So what does God wish you to do with your life right now, in this moment? Of course, we’re here in worship, but worship is meant (in part) to recharge and reinvigorate us for our work in the world. What is that work for you? How will you make the world a better place? Right now, it needs it as much as ever. God has embraced you in baptism, made you his own, called you by name and named you his beloved. How will you respond when he sends you forth into the world? What will you do?

I cannot answer these questions for you. You must find those answers yourself. But they are being asked. God is asking. How will you answer? Amen.

Sermon for the Epiphany

Preached at Canadochly and Grace on January 6, 2019 (Portions taken from sermon of Jan 6, 2002)
Preaching text: Matthew 2:1-12

Approximately every seven hundred years, the planets Jupiter and Saturn come into alignment, appearing for a brief time to be not two distinct lights in the sky, but one single bright star. These planets do this while appearing within the constellation of Pisces, low in the sky, near the horizon.

Now, there was once a time when I was quite the amateur astronomer and such an event, known as a conjunction, would be quite noteworthy to see. But in the large scope of things, something that takes place every 700 years isn't really all that big a deal. After all, when you consider the vast quantities of time and space one deals with in astronomy, 700 is a very small number. It may seem a special event, but it really is rather routine.

A conjunction of Mars and Mercury on Feb 11, 2013

But what makes this particular astronomical event so important is its timing. It will next take place roughly 80 years from now, around the year 2100. Now do the math. It’s last visit was around the year 1400. Prior to that 700, and then around the year 1 AD or so. Now do you know what I’m talking about and why this is something I’ve brought up on this day in our worship? Oh, yes, what I have described to you is what some scholars believe is the origin of the fabled "Star of Bethlehem."

Now, this little bit of astronomical curiosity may have just spoiled the story for you. We like the mystery of the story of the magi. The magical star that leads the wise men to the cradle of Jesus. But the reality is, it was just an ordinary astronomical event. It happens all the time. Every 700 years, the star reappears in the sky. Granted, in terms of our lifetime, that's quite a long time. But in the grand scope of things, it really isn't all that special or unique.

But what makes this event special isn't anything that has to do with the event itself. It's what God does with it. God uses it to announce the birth of his son. An event that the magi would be able to interpret. Why? Because of who they were. They were diviners, astrologers, scholars. We’ve called them kings, but they were more accurately “wizards.” Now, they had no real magic, but in more superstitious times, people certainly believed they did. They looked to the stars to determine the signs of the times. And this time, they looked and saw God at work.

I love the Epiphany story because it is such a wonderful mix of the mundane and sublime. It’s a beautiful picture of the way God works in the world. The star is not magic or miracle. It’s a commonplace astronomical phenomena, and yet this mundane thing is turned into a herald for an event that will change the universe. And the people who see it and understand are not royalty or the rich. Even though they had positions of some influence at court, these magi or magicians were often considered to be a bit off kilter. And the gifts they bring. What statements they make.

Gold, however valuable, is the least controversial. It makes perfect sense for a newborn “king of the Jews.” The other gifts, however, make little sense at all.

Frankincense is, well, incense. You burn it and it makes a pleasant odor and a bit of smoke. It’s purpose was to be used in religious rite and ritual. It’s the gift for a priest. One who would go into the temple and make intercession for sins. That’s not something a king would do, and yet, that is what this king, this Christ, will do.

And Myrrh is embalming fluid of a sort. Perfume meant to mask the foul smell of decay that comes from a dead body. "Hello, Mary, Joseph, here’s the stuff you’ll use to bury your son when he dies. Merry First Christmas.” They’re breaking a taboo here. You’re not supposed to talk about the king’s mortality. “Long live the king!” is the more proper gesture. But not only to the magi disregard this protocol, they do it at the side of the child’s crib, a far different and even more inappropriate place than say, his bed in his aged decrepitude. But for this child, the inappropriate oddity of the gift of myrrh reveals a truth. Death is, after all, the Christ’s purpose.

These magi have revealed how truly wise they are. They understand what Jesus’ later disciples often missed. The Christ has come to die to make intercession for our sins. He is both priest and sacrifice, as well as king. His love for his people will lead him all the way to a cross. It’s the Gospel story in a nutshell. All right here, in one single tale from the very beginning of Jesus’ life. And the magi have figured it all out before Jesus is even out of diapers.

I said last Sunday that the Scriptures tell our love story with God. And that’s here too. The magi are weirdos. Oddballs, the strange and the stranger, as brilliant people often are. They stare at the stars with the expectation that the night sky will reveal some manner of deep truth to them, and they weren’t wrong. Their gifts are unconventional and unexpected, and not entirely appropriate (Or, at least not obviously so). And yet, God has brought them into the story to help tell a very important part of it. As a person who often self-identifies as a “weirdo,” I find immense comfort and joy in God’s choice here. He’s embraced the oddball and made them matter.

The star? The star is ordinary, a routine event in the life of the cosmos. Nothing special really, and yet it too is brought into this story to tell us something important. Many of us are not the rich or the powerful, the famous or the important. We’re the ordinary and routine of the world. And yet God again has chosen to embrace us and show us we matter.

That’s Gospel too. All its parts are here. Who Jesus is and what he’s here to do, but also who he’s here to do it for. For you and for me, regardless of who and what we are.

It’s an amazing story. It’s God’s love for us. Perhaps this is why they call it Epiphany. An epiphany is a realization, a revelation, the appearance of an idea. Here we see it in this mundane little story about a group of wizards following a star to bring gift to a child. Here we find again the width and breadth of God’s immense love. Love for you and me, no matter who or what we are. Amen.

Sermon for the First Sunday of Christmas

Preached at Canadochly and Grace on December 30, 2018
Scripture text: John 1:1-18

New Years is a time when we look over the width and breadth of our lives. We review who we are and what we’ve done and ask ourselves, what could we do differently? What could we do better next year? This is, of course, the origin of the often-not-kept-for-very-long New Years Resolution.

When I do this, I don’t find a whole lot of things I’d like to change, or least things I’d like to change that I can. Much in my life, such as my diseases, is largely outside my control. The rest however is something I’m rather content with. I know who I am. I know what I am and what I wish to be.

Now, if I were to summarize all that, who and what I am, I’d have to say I’m a storyteller. I like that. It integrates nearly everything about my life. My hobbies, my gaming, my family, my friends, and my ministry in the church.

Story is vitally important to us, even if we don’t think about it. It’s how we make real that which we want to express: our hopes, our desires, our past, our present, our needs, and our wants. It’s one thing to say to someone “I love you;” Those three words slip off the tongue easily enough. But to have a story of two people who have dedicated themselves to one another, will do anything for one another, will live their lives for one another and those words become real in a way they wouldn’t otherwise. That’s the power of story.

Of course, what we come here to this place each Sunday is to immerse ourselves in a particular story: the story of God and Christ. Perhaps the most important story of them all.

But what sort of story is it? I had an interesting observation this week as I was preparing my sermon. The one game I play, Dungeons and Dragons, along with all manner of fantasy novels and stories, have their origin in what we today call the fairy tale, but what would have been called a few hundred years ago as the medieval romance.

Thank you, Walt Disney, for keeping this literature alive.

A medieval romance has a very simple plot. The hero spies from afar a fair maiden and his heart is immediately captivated and captured by her. He falls madly in love. And he then dedicates this whole being and life to her glory and honor. He will protect her. All his great achievements are done for her. His whole self is hers to his dying day.

Now there’s a catch. Often times, this fair maiden is already spoken for. She is unreachable, untouchable, unavailable. And in only a very small handful of these stories is the hero able to overcome that in someway so that he ends up with his love and has the happily-ever-after. (These are typically the stories we remember from those centuries, but they are the exception rather than the rule.) But that doesn’t matter to the hero. It doesn’t matter that he probably can never have her. He loves her nonetheless and all his life is hers.

This (the Bible) is that sort of story.

God looked out one day and had a vision of you and a vision of me and a vision of the whole human race. And he fell madly in love with us. And he dedicated his whole self to us, to our glory, our honor, our protection,our life, our prosperity. All of his great achievements are done for us. His whole self is ours and always will be.

Not every human appreciates that or even understands it. Many don’t even know that they are loved so passionately, so intensely, by our God. But that doesn’t matter, God loves them anyway.

But God has determined that there will be a day when he will be united with his true love. And so he put in place a plan that would win him his people. He revealed pieces of it through prophecy and promise to people such as Abraham and Moses, Isaiah and David, Jeremiah and Micah. And these wrote parts of the story down and they became the books of the Old Testament. And then when the time was right, he sent forth his angels to search the world for two people, a couple after his own heart, who could help him complete the next step. And these angels found Mary and Joseph. And they were told, you will give birth to the Son of God, to the Christ, God’s love made incarnate in the world.

That, of course, is the part of the story we are most focused on right now. The story of the first Christmas and the birth of Jesus. This was hugely important step in God’s plan, because here he was going to make real in a way he hadn’t before his love for his people. His love would be flesh and blood, something we could see and touch and listen to as if he were one of us.

And then Jesus goes and shows us what it would be like to live in God’s world. The sick are healed. The broken-hearted have their tears wiped away. The dead are raised. The outcast is welcome. All are loved and valued for who they are. In fact, Jesus even shows us that God’s love is so immense for us that he would even die for us. Because he does, on a cross. That’s how far he’ll go.

This is the greatest love story ever written. And you and I and everyone are the recipient of it. This is why Christmas matters. This is why Easter matters. It’s why the whole thing matters. It’s the story of God’s love for his children, for his people, for you and for me. Can you imagine? The Almighty Divine desires you above all else. You don’t really have to imagine it. It’s in his story, the story we hear each and every Sunday in this place. Amen.