Blessed isn't always happy: Feb 2 2025

 Year C, The Presentation                                Luke 2:22-40                                                                        

                The summer after my senior year of college, I interned in a tiny town outside of Harrisburg.  The youth in this town were bored and one of the churches decided to bring in someone who would work with those youth just for the summer.  It was a good opportunity for someone like me, someone who was not sure if I wanted to work in the church or not.  However this was before cell phones were common and I didn’t know anyone in the town except the people who hired me and the youth I was working with. It was a lonely time in my life and I was depressed.  I was still Roman Catholic and so I went to a Bible study at the Catholic Church.  The priest was talking about the sermon on the mount, also called the Beatitudes. He said that being blessed is not the same as being happy.  At the time, that was a revelation to me.

          One need look no further than the version of the Beatitudes in the Gospel of Luke to prove this. “Blessed are you who are poor, for yours is the kingdom of God. ‘Blessed are you who are hungry now for you will be filled.

‘Blessed are you who weep now, for you will laugh ‘Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man.” Every time I see some social media post with a #blessed next to a picture of a beautiful family or an update on a major accomplishment or goal achieved, I want to post these words from Luke’s Gospel.  For Luke, being blessed had a lot more to do with being in relationship with God and finding hope in that relationship  than just having good things happen that you can brag about on social media.

          The Gospel reading for today tells the story of the Feast of the Presentation.  Jesus’ parents (Mary and Joseph) were observant Jews.   Thus, they followed the customs and laws of the Jewish faith.  One of those laws was presenting the child at the temple 40 days after the birth.  In that act, they were dedicating their son to God.  Of course, this was no average child. This was the Son of God.  Mary and Joseph knew that, but they still followed the laws of their faith. 

          When they entered the temple, they encountered a devout Jew by the name of Simeon.  We do not know much about Simeon, except that he was devout and righteous and led by the Holy Spirit.  The Spirit is mentioned three times in relation to Simeon.  He had been told that he would not die until he saw the Messiah.  He immediately recognized this infant as the Messiah. He was so moved, he made this beautiful speech which is known as the Song of Simeon or the Nunc Dimmittis. He essentially said that he could die now, because he had seen salvation. 

          You might think, well this should not have come as a shock to Mary and Joseph. They had heard all this before.  But according to this Gospel, Mary had heard very little. This is only chapter 2 of Luke.  At this point, Mary had been told by the Angel Gabriel that she would bear a son who would be the Son of God.  Mary’s conversation with Gabriel had been affirmed by her cousin Elizabeth when she met her.  Upon seeing Mary pregnant, Elizabeth greeted her as the Mother of the Lord.  Mary and Joseph also received additional news about their son from the shepherds who visited them right after she gave birth.  The shepherds told them that angels had appeared to them and told them this child would be the Messiah, the Lord. 

This was all Mary and Joseph had, a few short conversations that probably left them a little confused.  Then out of the blue comes this man who was a complete stranger but was able to shed more light on this tiny baby they held in their arms.  The text says that they were amazed by what Simeon said.  Then Simeon blessed the child and they probably thought that was the end of that interaction. 

Simeon had more to say: “This child is destined for the falling and the rising of many in Israel, and to be a sign that will be opposed so that the inner thoughts of many will be revealed—and a sword will pierce your own soul too.” Can you imagine how the atmosphere must have changed with that one comment?  They received a beautiful blessing from this devout and inspired man and then he told them that their sweet little baby will be opposed and a sword would pierce their soul. Sometimes when I read that, I feel that sword.

          I want you all to try to picture something.  Think of the most wonderful thing that has happened or something you hope will happen. Maybe you just got some wonderful news—a baby was born, someone recovered from a horrible illness, the Eagles win the Superbowl.  Just think of something incredible…and then you hear that someone who you love will suffer, will suffer so much that you will feel like your soul is being pierced.  Try to wrap your mind around that. It would crushing.

          I just can’t get past the fact that Simeon would hold this child in his arms, bless him and then provide that very traumatic prediction.  If this was a normal couple, they could have walked away and said, “Well that guy was crazy.” But they knew that it all fit.  Nothing about their lives had been easy thus far.  Why would it be now?  For Mary and Joseph, the blessing came with opposition and heartache.

          Jesus would affirm this strange blessing decades later when he said, “Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man.”  I think many of us already know, that even the most blessed life can be full of opposition, pain, fear and death.  Hashtag blessings belong on social media, but not in our Christian faith. 

          A part of me says this with some trepidation because I think, why would anybody sign up for this?  Why be a Christian when it’s so damn hard?  Because of hope.  You see the other person in this story was named Anna.  She was 84 years old and had been living in that temple for most of her life.  She also recognized Jesus for who he was.  But the funny thing is, it doesn’t say that the Holy Spirit guided her like it did Simeon. It says, “At that moment she came, and began to praise God and to speak about the child to all who were looking for the redemption of Jerusalem.” As soon as Simeon said that a sword would pierce the soul, Anna started praising God and reminded Mary and Joseph that this child would bring redemption. 

Hope always has the last word in our faith.  Hope swings in after the blow that brings us to our knees and says, “Redemption is near.”  Not only is redemption near, but Mary and Joseph held the child that would bring redemption. Salvation was that close to them.

Today we Christians also hold that blessing, the blessing that feels like a burden at times, but also brings redemption and salvation to world that is sick of empty promises and superficial blessings.  Will our message bring opposition? Yes it will and if it doesn’t, we might not be proclaiming the right message.  But the good news is this---hope always has the last word.  Weeping may linger for the night, but joy comes in the morning.

We can all be miracle workers: January 19

 Year C, Epiphany 2                                                John 2:1-11 & 1 Corinthians 12:1-11                            

          One of the most well-known miracles in the Bible is when Jesus turned water into wine.  There are a couple of reasons for this popularity. To many, it feels like a more relatable miracle, than say Jesus exorcising demons out of a person. In this story, Jesus is celebrating along with his family and his disciples. People find it refreshing to imagine Jesus just hanging out and enjoying life.  Because let’s face it, much of the Gospels are about Jesus preparing for his death.  There are not many stories of him just hanging out with his friends—not preaching, not healing…just hanging out.  It’s also popular because there are also a lot of people who like wine and the idea that Jesus would provide wine for a party …that’s an appealing image of Jesus.

          This miracle is the 1^st miracle in the Gospel of John. It’s not just Jesus’ first miracle, it’s his first public act.  He had just called his disciples and one of the first things they do is go to a wedding together. In the Gospels of Matthew and Luke, Jesus’ first miracle is a healing.  In Mark, it’s an exorcism.  Those are classic Jesus miracles.  John is the only Gospel that tells the story of Jesus turning water into wine.  The Gospel of John is unique in many ways.  The Gospel writer doesn’t refer to miracles as miracles, they are signs and revelations. They are opportunities for Jesus’ divinity to be revealed. They are also opportunities for God’s children to participate in the miracle. 

          Let’s look at this first miracle.  One thing that usually catches people’s attention is the interaction between Jesus and his mother.  She is the one who alerts him to the issue.   Normally, people running out of wine would not be an emergency, but wedding celebrations were a really big deal at this time.  They still are today, but normally (at least in the circles I travel in) running out of wine on the 3^rd day of festivities would not bring shame to the family.  At this time, wine wasn’t just a beverage, it was also a symbol of life and blessings. (Remember, John loves signs and symbols.) Running out of wine indicated a lack of blessings, which was not good for a wedding. 

Perhaps Mary knew the family…perhaps she was just more sensitive to potential social shaming.  We don’t know why she got involved, but it’s clear she wanted Jesus to help and she knew that he could.  Jesus’ response to her is a little surprising.  He tells her that his time has not yet come.  He knew that once he started performing miracles or signs, there was no turning back.  Even though this miracle was not in front of a large crowd, the servants were aware and word was bound to get out. Everything would change after this miracle.

          In most miracles, we tend to focus on the miracle itself and Jesus’ part in it, but what I found interesting when I read it this time was the role that the servants played.  Jesus told them to take 6 stone water jars that each held 20 to 30 gallons and fill them to the brim. I have had a few experiences of having to haul buckets of water, but they have always been plastic and a few gallons, not 20-30 gallons.  Stone water jugs that large with that amount of water would have weighed at least 200 pounds.  And it’s not like they just had to find the nearest hose, they had to get to a well.  It was very labor intensive.[1]  It was only then, after the servants had done that work, when Jesus turned the water into wine. One might wonder why he didn’t just skip the middle man and fill the empty jars with wine.  It would have been a lot easier.

          We often associate miracles with things that just come to us.  We ask for it, God gives it---that’s a miracle.  But what Jesus showed in this miracle was not merely a fondness for good wine, but the fact that sometimes miracles require the effort and help of others. It’s a community effort. If you look at all the miracles in the Gospel of John, almost all of them include the effort of humans. When Jesus fed the 5000, it started with a boy bringing him 5 loaves and 2 fish. Once Jesus multiplied this offering, the disciples had to hand out that food to 5000 people.  Then, they had to gather all the leftovers. That is a fair amount of effort on the part of the disciples. 

          Our reading from Corinthians is another familiar one.  It’s often lifted up as an example of the Christian community and how the community is made up of a variety of gifts.  That’s a fair reading.  But Paul’s emphasis here was the origin of the gifts.  All these gifts came from the same Spirit. He repeats the phrase “same Spirit” several times. 

If you read the chapters before this one, you will see that Paul was frustrated with the people of Corinth because they were getting a little competitive with their gifts. They were showing off and lifting up certain gifts over the gifts of others. The gift that they often revered was that of speaking in tongues.  Paul includes that in his list of gifts, but it’s the very last one.  Paul says that “all these gifts are activated by one and the same Spirit, who allots to each one individually just as the Spirit chooses.”  When we talk about spiritual gifts in churches today, we often talk about it from the perspective of what we are good at.  I don’t think that is what Paul meant. It’s not necessarily about how we choose to serve God, it’s about what the Spirit chooses.

          Notice in the Gospel what Mary says to the servants, “Do whatever he tells you.”  This was an opportunity for these servants to participate in a miracle, but first, they had to listen to Jesus.  That is true with all of us.  Yes our Christian community depends on the gifts of all of you.  I have witnessed so many beautiful gifts in this parish.  I have seen you giving of yourselves for the common good again and again.  But we cannot overlook the necessity of listening to God, allowing God’s wisdom to infuse us.  Listening is the only way we can determine what the common good is.  According to Paul, all these gifts contribute to the common good of the community.   Listening to God also enables us to participate in miracles. 

I expect that we have all had times when we prayed for miracles and those prayers were not answered in the way that we desired. I don’t want you to walk away from this sermon thinking that I am telling you miracles depend on our effort and if we just tried harder, than these miracles would happen.  I wish that miracles worked like that.  It seems like that would be a lot fairer.  Perhaps we need to change the way we think and talk about miracles.  Remember, John never referred to anything as a miracle. They were signs that helped people see God more clearly.  What if that is part of our calling as Christians---helping people see God more clearly?

That is one of the things that Martin Luther King Jr. did.  At the time, many white people thought that only white people were created in God’s image and that really messed up people’s perception of God.  Because if white people were made in God’s image, then God was obviously white. Martin Luther King showed people that all people, no matter their color or race were created in God’s image.  God was and is so much bigger than our narrow perceptions.  Even today, with all our open minded thinking, God is still bigger than we will ever know.

I would like us to redefine miracles—so they are not just something that happened long ago or to a small portion of the population.  What if they could be any opportunity to experience God’s grace and love, or any opportunity to share God’s grace and love with the people around us?  If that is true, then opportunities for miracles are far more numerous than we could possibly imagine. Not only that, it means that we are all miracle workers.

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[1] Lectionary column for January 20, Second Sunday after the Epiphany | The Christian Century

Real Love: January 12, 2025

 Year C, Epiphany 1                                              Isaiah 43:1-7                                                             

In 2002, the newly formed Department of Homeland Security created a tool that they hoped would warn people of potential terrorist threats.  It was color coded with 5 levels.  At the top was red, which meant there was a severe risk.  At the bottom was green which indicated a low risk.  I remember seeing these color coded messages mostly in airports, occasionally on highway signs and really any form of public transportation.    In the 9 years it was in use, I don’t ever remember seeing anything below orange, which meant there was always a high risk.  Every time I saw it, I felt as though I had walked into some dystopian world.  I knew orange was bad, but that was all I knew. 

One of the primary things this color coded reminder of potential doom accomplished was making people more anxious and afraid.  It seemed I was not the only one who was dubious of the system.   It was highly criticized until 2011, when they created a new system based on bulletins. One of the criticisms was that the color coded warnings didn’t provide any helpful information…it just put people on edge.

          While we no longer have that color coded system, that culture of fear is still present, perhaps even more so.  There is good reason for this.  We can find reasons to be afraid every time we watch or read the news.  Fear is everywhere.  While it seems more acute now than it has at any other point in my lifetime, I know this culture of fear is not a new thing.  Even back when the Book of Isaiah was written (about 2500 years ago), fear was a very real part of life.  The people of Israel lived in constant fear.  Our reading for today comes after the Babylonian exile.  The majority of the Israelite community had been exiled to a foreign land for over 50 years. The prophets had warned them that this would happen if they did not change their ways.  But they preferred to ignore those warnings, because it was easier that way.  But then the worst happened.  Their homes and temple were destroyed.  Their lives were uprooted.  They were driven from their home and became slaves for their enemy. When Isaiah spoke the words that we heard in the first reading, that memory was fresh in their minds. They were still picking up the pieces of their pillaged land. They knew fear, much better than most of us do. 

           I wonder how they heard these words from Isaiah: “But now, thus says the Lord, he who created you, O Jacob, he who formed you, O Israel: Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name and you are mine.”  Were those words a comfort or were they easily dismissed because they were so hard to accept?  Keep in mind that this is Isaiah speaking.  This was the same prophet who had warned them all about the horrible things that were going to happen….the horrible things that happened.  He had been with them through the difficult times.  He had seen them turn away from God and had experienced the exile with them. He was never one to sugar coat things.  While they might not have always enjoyed what he said, they knew that he could be trusted.   Perhaps those words were a comfort.

          In this text Isaiah is speaking for God. In other parts of the Book of Isaiah, he relays what God has said, he even talks to God.  But here, he speaks for God.  There is an intimacy in this.  It is as though God knew that they would need to hear from him…they would need a new relationship with God if they were ever going to find peace. 

          It is not just the words, “Do not fear” that provided comfort, it was the motive behind those words.  “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name; you are mine.”  This was the assurance that grace had triumphed.  While there had been some troubling times and distance between God and his people, grace and love had the final word.  God had the power to redeem them and God did.  That is why there was no reason to fear.  It was not because there was no longer a threat.  The people of Israel were still very vulnerable to attack; but they knew that God had claimed them as God’s own.  God had renewed a promise that he made so very long ago. 

          Some variation of the words, “Do not fear” occur in the Bible hundreds of time, but God said something else in this reading that was unique.  God said, “Because you are precious in my sight, and honored, and I love you.”  This is the only place in the Bible where God directly says to the people, “I love you.”  There are other places where God indicates God’s love.  But this is the place where God says, “I love you.”  And we all know how precious those words are.  It reminds me of those stories where one person says “I love you” for the first time and the other person responds, “And I love being with you.”  The words “I love you” are irreplaceable and these are the words that God shared with God’s people then and now. That is why we read the Bible, so we can hear these words whenever we want.

Hearing those words from God and believing them is an important thing.  This is not some kind of hallmark emotion that God throws out to people to keep them happy.  If you read the chapter right before this one, you will hear God refer to the people as deaf and blind.  It’s pretty harsh.  But in the end, God’s grace always overcomes the judgment. That doesn’t mean we can skip judgement, but we can rest assured that God’s judgment has a purpose and as long as we do all we can to love God in return and love God’s people, God’s grace will triumph. 

          Our world is a complicated place right now, but it’s nothing that God has not handled before.  The important thing is that we, the children of God, cannot let fear control us in our day to day lives.  There is only one power that truly matters…God’s power, the power to love a people who are hard to love.  The power of an omnipotent God to tell his undisciplined children that they are loved.  So instead of letting fear control us, perhaps we can channel the emotion behind that fear into something sacred and holy. 

Let’s look at the worst case scenario…the world will end tomorrow.  If that is the case, then we better get busy today. Today is the time to show our love for one another.  Tell people you love them.  Tell people you don’t normally tell.  Don’t stop there.  Because even though God is all powerful, God still likes to hear from us.  Tell God in prayer, in song, in art, in mumbling….whatever, that God that you love him.  Then listen and wait.  I can guarantee that God is saying it to you as well.  When is the last time that someone told you that you are precious in their sight? My friends, every single one of you is precious, honored and loved.

Kings of Defiance: January 5 2025

 Year C, Christmas 2/Epiphany                                  Matthew 2:1-12                                        

        The first church I served put on a rather elaborate Christmas pageant every year.  The sanctuary was transformed to the hills of Bethlehem.  Every year we would try different scripts with slightly different takes on the story.  One year, we decided to include King Herod in the pageant.  Instead of just having three wise men wander up to the manger, we had them stop first at Herod’s palace to inquire about the star that they had been following. We had a teenage boy play the part of Herod.  This boy was kind of meant to play Herod.  He was one of those kids who only had one volume and it was loud and authoritative.  (He’s now a Marine officer if that helps.)  He really leaned into the role and I realized when people gasped a little at his loud proclamation --why Herod doesn’t usually end up in pageants.  It’s just not the vibe people are expecting on Christmas Eve.  We want gentle, joyful, meek and mild---a story told as if we threw a gossamer fabric over the camera lens.   We don’t want gritty and real.  We have all the reality we need.

But today is the 11^th day of Christmas, which means we can remove the gossamer filter and talk about Herod.  Because Herod is clearly an important part of this story. The Gospel of Matthew tells the birth of Jesus in 1 verse.  There are no shepherds, no angels announcing the good news.  We hear nothing about Mary’s thoughts or feelings. There is a reason that we read from the Gospel of Luke on Christmas Eve and not from Matthew.   It’s interesting given the lack of details about the birth, that there would be that much information on Herod and the magi. 

The first line of chapter 2 reads: “In the time of King Herod...” It was important to the author of the Gospel that the person reading or hearing this story knew the historical context...knew the kind of political climate that Jesus was being born into.  Just to clarify, there are a few Herods who appear in the New Testament.  This was Herod the Great---not the same Herod who killed John the Baptist or was involved in Jesus’ trial.  They were related of course and had a fair amount in common.  Both were deeply insecure about their rule and were prone to rash decisions. They would do just about anything to protect their power.  Jesus was born at the end of Herod the Great’s reign.  At this point in Herod the Great’s rule, he was known to be unstable and dangerous. He had killed many at this point, including his 2^nd wife and three of his sons. 

        These magi (which means astrologer) had travelled quite a distance. They probably didn’t know of Herod’s reputation.  They were following a star, but as you can imagine, stars probably don’t provide the clearest directions…which is how they ended up in Jerusalem instead of Bethlehem.  They might not have been from the area, but they knew that Jerusalem was the seat of power and if they were looking for someone important enough to be represented by a star, that person was probably in an important city like Jerusalem.  And who better to lead them to that important person, than another important person--- King Herod.

        While King Herod was insecure, power hungry and prone to violence, he did have the information they needed---or more accurately, he had advisors who were experts in the Hebrew scriptures.  These experts were able to point the magi in the right direction, to a small town called Bethlehem. While the magi got the information they needed, their inquiry alarmed Herod and all in his orbit. The text says that all of Jerusalem was terrified by the news that these magi from the east were looking for a special person to worship. 

We just think of this story as a nice little epilogue on to our pageant, but for some reason, the presence of these astrologers threatened a whole city.  Why? Because they wanted to pay him homage.  That is what the text says.  They were there to worship someone, and that person was not Herod.  The knowledge that a greater power was in his midst terrified Herod. The reason that all Jerusalem was terrified was because a scared and threatened Herod was a dangerous Herod.  The people of Jerusalem knew that as long as Herod was threatened, there could be no safety in their city.

         King Herod asked the magi to return to him after they had discovered this child so he could worship him.  We all know that his intentions were bad, but these magi from out of town probably didn’t.  I am sure that they had every intention of returning to this helpful king.  But something altered their path.  The first thing is that they found Jesus and as soon as they saw this infant with his young mother, they worshipped that child and gave him expensive gifts that were gifts much more appropriate for a king than a baby. They saw something in this child. They also trusted the signs that brought them to this place, which required courage and confidence.  I feel like if I was in their situation and travelled all this way to find a regular baby with no special powers born to ordinary parents in a backwater town, I might wonder, was I wrong? Did I follow the right star?

It would seem these men had more than wisdom, more than expertise in the night sky and an adventurous spirit. They also had faith.  That faith enabled them to see something that most others couldn’t see.  It also empowered them to listen to a dream that told them not to return to Herod…which is kind of amazing when you think about it. They were told by a powerful man to return to him and they didn’t.  They found the courage to defy him and return another way.

        I have to admit until this year, I never thought of the courage and defiance of these wise men from the east.  I thought of them as dreamers and seekers. They were so much more than that.  Within just a few days, they encountered 2 kings—1 king who wielded power through threats and displays of violence, and one king who chose to enter the world as vulnerable as possible.

Reading this story as not just a sweet story about magi and stars, but about courage and power has made me wonder how we all identify power in our lives and who we choose to worship, to pay homage to. Who are we bowing before? These magi didn’t simply trust what they were being told by someone in authority, they trusted in their experience of the divine. Imagine the courage that must have required, to defy the order of a king because of what you saw in a star, a baby and a dream.

There are times in our lives when we have to trust our experience and our faith and not listen to whoever the loudest and most authoritative voice is at any given time.  Those voices have a tendency to drown other voices out--- to drown out truth.  I have been ordained for 19 years and there are still many times when I question my own experience of faith, my own encounter of the divine.  What I keep coming back to is the magi and their willingness to bow before an infant, to see power where most would see weakness and to listen to dreams that many would have dismissed. 

It’s kind of amazing the power of dreams in the first few chapters of Matthew. A dream convinced Joseph to take a pregnant Mary as his wife, instead of divorcing her.  A dream led the magi away from Herod and home another way.  A dream convinced Joseph that he, Mary and Jesus had to flee to Egypt because Herod was going to search for and kill all the male children under 2. In this story, dreams saved the King of Peace.

While I am not telling you all to follow every crazy dream you have, I do hope, in this season of the Epiphany that we can open ourselves to see God in the most unexpected of places— to find hope where others see despair, to acknowledge evil when we see it, and to discover the courage we have forgotten we have.  Because that courage will enable us to defy the powers that would seek to control and trample so many of God’s children. Instead, we can embrace the powers that seek to lift others up.  Jesus never wielded power by controlling people.  He displayed power through sacrifice and love.  That is the only God we bow before.

 

 

Christmas in the Dark: Dec. 25, 2024

Year C, Christmas                               Isaiah 9:2-7                                          

          “The people who have walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness—on them light has shined.”  We hear a lot of Isaiah during Advent and Christmas.  We hear it in the music, especially in Handel’s Messiah.  If that is your only exposure to Isaiah, it would be natural to assume it’s meant to be a bit of a preview for the dramatic unveiling of the Christ Child. But that would be a disservice to the Book of Isaiah, and the Jewish faith.  The Book of Isaiah is one of the longest and most significant books in the Hebrew scriptures.

          Because it’s so long and covers such a long time frame, it is usually divided into three parts.  The first part was the prophet trying to convince people to change their ways, or they would be conquered by a foreign power. In the second third, the Babylonians invaded and the people were driven from their land.  Their city, the city of God was in ruins.   Some were left homeless and friendless, but most were taken away to Babylon to live as slaves.  In that section of the book, Isaiah provided a message of consolation.  He assured them that God would save them.  The final third of Isaiah describes life after the Hebrew people have returned to their home.  But it didn’t look like the way they remembered it.  They had to rebuild and start over.  There were no easy beginnings or endings in Isaiah.

          Our reading for today comes in the first section of Isaiah.  There is a warning, but there is also hope. One of the challenges of the people of Israel was their tendency to put their hope in human kings.  They believed that their kings were divinely ordained and if only they could find the right king, then they would be safe and secure.  In many ways the US was started with a rejection of this concept, the idea that one person or a line of people could be our salvation.  Yet we still fall into that trap, don’t we----thinking that one person can save us or worse yet, one person can destroy us.

          Biblical scholars and historians believe this text from Isaiah wasn’t necessarily talking about a messiah who would be born hundreds of years later, but the reign of King Hezekiah.  King Hezekiah was a good and righteous king.  Despite that, during his reign, the Assyrians invaded and Israel was conquered.  This was not what Isaiah predicted in our reading for today. Our reading for today predicted a great light and the end to war.  It says, “For all the boots of the tramping warriors and all the garments rolled in blood shall be burned as fuel for the fire.” That was an allusion not just to the end of war, but the end of being the conquered.  That is not what happened. Not only were they conquered, King Hezekiah was followed by a corrupt king.

          One might wonder how prophetic Isaiah really was.  He promised a period of endless peace.  When we look at the Middle East, one would hardly describe it as endless peace.  Does that mean that Isaiah was wrong…or was he just wrong about that king---perhaps they just had to wait 500-700 years for the birth of Jesus.  Even the most passionate believers of Jesus Christ and his role as a savior and messiah would never try to argue that he brought a period of peace.  Look at any news outlet at any period in the history of our world---war has been a constant.  It is as reliable as death and taxes.

          And yet…I think Isaiah was on to something.  “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those lived in a land of deep darkness---on them light has shined.”  We can never know the beauty of light until we have stood in darkness.  We can never know what it is to yearn for light until we have survived the night that seems interminable.  We can never truly fathom joy until we have experienced grief. 

          Isaiah knew that salvation would not come in a king or any temporal leader, but only from a God so intent on bringing light to humanity, he would enter the darkness with us.  For millennia, we have associated darkness with sin, pain and grief.  We have shunned darkness in favor anything that can bring us light.  Yet what we know is that new life always starts in the dark---whether it is a seed in the ground, waiting for the soil to soften enough so it can break through, or a baby in a womb waiting to be born, or Jesus in the tomb, waiting for Easter morning.  New life starts in the dark.[1] 

          Jesus, the person who we celebrate tonight and every night, was not born in a palace—in a place of light and glory.  He was born in a barn, more likely a cave as that is where people kept their animals at the time. You know what caves are—they are dark. He was born in a war torn country to people who have been conquered over and over again.  He was born as an infant, as we all are, the most vulnerable of all creatures. The movies always show this big light shining down on this scene, but in the Gospel of Luke, there is no star, there is only darkness and a few people who found their way through the darkness. 

          I think sometimes we come to Christmas service to hear this heartwarming story that kind of ties our faith up in a neat and clean bow.  But the beauty of this story is that it’s not clean and it’s not neat.  It’s not even magical.  It’s real and it’s only the beginning.  It is meant to show us that even in the deep darkness of our lives, a light shines—not in spite of the darkness but because of the darkness. 

It’s not just a light---it’s a fire, a fire that fought hard to exist—a fire that refuses to be covered.  But like all fires, it needs oxygen to keep going.  It requires that all of us fight to protect it and refuse to ignore it.  In a few minutes, we will walk out of this (slightly) warm church---leaving the soft glow of candles. We will all have to go back into the dark.  I want you to hold on to that fire, stoke that fire so that it burns bright enough, not to defeat the darkness, but to bring more life into places where most only see death.  That’s our calling as Christians, to be bearers of light and fire, because we worship a God who has not defeated darkness, but who enters the darkness with us and then lights it on fire.

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[1] From Learning to Walk in the Dark by Barbara Brown Taylor

Redemption is here: December 1

 Year C, Advent 1                                       Luke 21:25-36                                                   

          Every year when Advent comes along, I have 2 contrasting thoughts: “Dear God, not these readings again.” AND “Oh good, these readings give me a great chance to complain about the Advent calendar industry.” Seriously, have you all seen what has been happening with Advent calendars? You can get them with any kind of alcohol, any sephora item, legos, jewelry…even cheese.  Why--- might you ask-- would these readings give the pastor a chance to talk about Advent cheese calendars? Because these readings
are so contrary to almost every way we prepare for Christmas in our world. 

In our culture, we prepare for Christmas by buying things, cooking extravagant food, attending festive events, decorating our homes, buying more decorations because our neighbors look more festive than we do…doing everything we can to artificially brighten our world that gets darker and darker with every passing day.  At times, it feels to me like the Advent Calendars, the holiday preparations, are basically trying to distract us from whatever might bring us down.  Meanwhile in church, we move to more penitential language (that means talking about our sins and seeking forgiveness) and warning people of the possible end of the world.   That is how we prepare for Advent.

Let me just say, I love Christmas lights.  I am all for providing light in the midst of darkness.  But I worry that in our rush to cover up the darkness, we lose what the darkness teaches us.  We forget that even a small flame can pierce the darkest night.

Just two weeks ago, we had a reading from Mark that was very similar to our reading from Luke today.  It was Mark’s little apocalypse.  Today is Luke’s little apocalypse.  What I said in my sermon 2 weeks ago is that Jesus wasn’t suggesting that these events were the end of the world, he said that these events were leading to the end of the world.  Since we seem to have these apocalyptic events frequently, then maybe we can reframe our way of thinking and accept that we are living through that difficult time right now. So all these warning signs (the fires, tornadoes, hurricanes, super storms) are happening right now. It’s just life and life is difficult. 

Life is full of events like the ones that Jesus described.  Is there distress among the nations? Absolutely.  Are weird things going on with our oceans? Yup.  Are people terrified and sometimes incapacitated with fear? Yes again. Have we seen the Son of Man coming in a cloud? Anyone? No.  So that means we are in this liminal space, the time between when Jesus lived, died, and was resurrected…and the time when Jesus returns.  Humanity has been in that space for over 2000 years.

So what are we to do in this liminal space?  Buy more lights? Leave them up all year round? Stick our heads in the sand and wait for it all to end? No.  Jesus gives us the answer.  After describing all these terrifying things, Jesus said, “Now when these things begin to take place, stand up and raise your heads because redemption is drawing near.” Stand up and raise your heads. It’s ok to be afraid and a little worried.  It’s ok to be sad and to grieve.  It is ok to feel all those feelings.  But in the end, we still rise because redemption is near.

Right after this exhortation, Luke switches gears a little and told a parable about spring. He said as soon as you see those first buds, those new leaves, you know that summer is close. “So also when you see these things taking place, you know that the kingdom of God is near.”  We can look at these events in our world a few ways.  We can see them as a sign that the world is getting worse and we have lost control.  Or we can see them as a reminder that the kingdom of God is near. 

Because here is the thing---the kingdom of God is more than just what it is to come.  In a sense, it has been here.  That is what Jesus brought when he was born on this earth.  He gave us access to that kingdom. But we have gotten so weighed down, so distracted by the worries of this life, we forget that redemption is not just near.  It is here.  When Jesus was born to this earth, he brought the kingdom of God with him. 

You might think, well he’s not here anymore and this world doesn’t look like the Kingdom of God. And I get that, I really do. We want the Kingdom of God to be all powerful, to right all the wrongs in this world. If this was the Kingdom of God, there would be no poverty, no prejudice, no hunger, no injustice, no war.  That is the ultimate expression of the Kingdom.  Now, we have glimpses of the kingdom, moments when earth and heaven touch.  Think of those moments you just got goose bumps for no reason, when you heard a piece of music that just took your breath away, when you saw hope where you thought hope was dead, when you found laughter in the midst of pain, when you found the courage to fight, when all you wanted to do was cry. Those are glimpses of the Kingdom of God and it’s our job as Christians to make those glimpses last a little longer and appear to more people.  We want more people to see the Kingdom of God, because it is magnificent.

Our opening prayer (which we call a collect in the Episcopal Church) reads: “Almighty God, give us grace to cast away the works of darkness, and put on the armor of light…”  As much as I love Christmas lights, the only light that will really cast away the works of darkness is the light of Christ.  I love that image of Christians being clothed with the armor of light.  Because not only does this armor protect us from desolation and despair, it also enables us to bring light into the world for others who might be scared, worried, despondent.  In sharing that light, we can bring more and more glimpses of the Kingdom of God to our world right now. That way not only can we find the strength and courage to stand and embrace redemption, we can help others do the same.  Because the true Kingdom of God is not a few people standing while others struggle to rise, it’s all of us standing together because redemption is already here. I have seen it. You have seen it.  Redemption is here.  “So we light one candle for hope.  Because the world is broken and the wait is long, but hope just won’t let go.[1]”

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[1] From Advent Lighting Prayer by  Rev. Karen Ware Jackson 

Don't be alarmed: November 17, 2024

Year B, Pentecost 26                            Mark 13:1-8    

                Do you remember at the beginning of COVID, when every time you turned on the news or checked your newsfeed, it was a string of stories about how horrible things were looking? If I were to sum up those stories it would be, “be alarmed, be very alarmed.”  I remember the Daily Show started a segment called, “Is this how we die?”  It was funny…until people started dying.   It feels a bit like that now, every time I check the news, there are some new dire threats.  This is the end of democracy.  This is the end of freedom. This is the end of women’s rights. Because of the magic of algorithms, someone else is looking at their news and seeing a different set of stories: the stock market is sky rocketing, it’s the end of politics as usual, it’s a new golden age in America.  Either way, the news has been attention grabbing.   Some people are feeling great. Some are neutral and some are alarmed. Pretty much everything about the pandemic was horrible, but the one thing that was kind of refreshing was that the majority of people agreed that COVID was bad. It was unifying in a weird way. 

            I will confess that in general, I am prone to being alarmed by any drastic changes, sometimes even small changes. Thus, I pay attention whenever I see something in scripture telling me not to be alarmed.  The reading we had from the Gospel of Mark is sometimes referred to as the “little apocalypse.”  In it Jesus says, “When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed…” Then it goes on to say: “nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines.”  Now, I have already admitted that I am prone to being alarmed, but is it just me, or are those verses extra alarming?

Someone brought this up at our Wednesday Eucharist—how interesting it was that Jesus would tell us not to be alarmed about war.  I thought, well, people said that kind of thing a lot in scripture.  One of the most common pieces of advice in scripture is: Do not be afraid.  It’s usually the first thing that an angel says when he brings a message to a human.  Jesus is often telling people in his midst not to be afraid, especially after a miracle or a healing. It makes sense that in the presence of holiness one would expect the words: Be not afraid. It’s helpful advice, when you are in the presence of something awe inspiring and something that is so unexpected that it’s frightening. 

I assumed that the Greek word translated to alarm and the Greek word translated to afraid were the same word.  They are not.  The word translated to alarm only appears in two other places in the New Testament. One is the version of this same story that Matthew tells. Often the Gospels tell the same story is slightly different ways. The other instance is in 2^nd Thessalonians.  The Greek word translated to alarm can also mean troubled or disturbed.  In each of these three readings, the advice to “not be alarmed” comes in response to what is referred to as the 2^nd coming or the apocalypse. 

What is interesting is that Jesus wasn’t even talking about the end of the world (which is what many of us think of when we hear warnings like this).  Jesus was talking about the events that would lead up to the end of the world. The funny thing is that every time I preach on an apocalyptic text, I come up with many examples of how what is going on in our country or our world feels kind of apocalyptic.  Yet, not even once since I have been preaching, has the world ended.  I am beginning to think that maybe these events that Jesus mentions are not pointing to the end of the world. They are just life.

  Last Sunday, I got out of my car and the weather was lovely.  Thirty minutes later I walked outside, and it was smoky. You could not even see the sun.  Someone told me it was from the fires in New Jersey.  I thought since, when were there fires in New Jersey?  This is clearly a sign of the world ending.  Apparently when you preach these texts too much, that is where your mind goes.  Guess what, we are still here. The world has not ended and Jesus is telling us all: “Do not be alarmed.”

Does that mean we become complacent? Does that mean that the fire fighters shouldn’t put the fires out and we can feel free to use fireworks in the middle of a dry forest?  No.  It means that we don’t let the fears that come out of these events paralyze us.  The problem with fear is that it narrows our vision.  All we see is the worst case scenario.  Then the only people who we talk to are other people who are also alarmed…very alarmed.  Suddenly anyone who isn’t alarmed is blind and foolish and we definitely don’t want to be associating with those people. 

As much as I appreciate a little company in my misery, I do worry about how we handle our little apocalypses.  The literal definition of apocalypse is revelation or unveiling.  Many think this election revealed something about our country.  Maybe it did.  I wonder if what we should also examine is our reactions to these apocalyptic events and what those reactions reveal.  I don’t know what any of this reveals.  Perhaps time will tell.  What I know is that refusing to engage with people who think differently will accomplish nothing.  I am not telling you to take this moment to reach out to your family and friends who voted differently. We might not be ready for that. My brother reached out to me and offered to talk and I said, “Thank you for the offer, but I am not ready.”  He responded that he loved me. I responded that I loved him too even though he was wrong. (just kidding, I just said I loved him too.) Thus I understand how hard this advice is, but I think it is what Jesus would want.

This week President Biden invited the president elect to the White House.  It appeared extremely awkward.  There were some who criticized Biden for maintaining this tradition.  They said it showed weakness. I think it showed decency and strength. Would he have done that if that was not the tradition? I don’t know. That is the beauty of traditions. They hold us accountable.  They give us guardrails on our life.  Sometimes when we get too attached to tradition, those traditions can make us rigid and stubborn.  But sometimes, perhaps many times, traditions help connect us with our ancestors and people today. 

So many parts of our liturgy are about connecting to God and one another. I was raised Catholic and the first time I visited an Episcopal Church, I found the tradition of kneeling at the rail very uncomfortable and awkward.  Now, I see it as an important reminder of what it is to be a community. It doesn’t matter how you vote, what your job is, your sexuality, your race…none of that matters in that moment.  All that matters in that moment is that we are together, gathered around the altar yearning for a piece of God’s presence.  Yearning for communion.

**The article about the "doomsday fish" popped up on my newsfeed after preaching this sermon.