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WORSHIP THIS SUNDAY CONTACT US |
EPIPHANY II SERMON “The word of the Lord was rare in those days; visions were not widespread.” ‘Those days’ in that first reading refers to the time of the Judges’ rule over Israel, before the anointing of the first king, Saul. It is an important piece of description to introduce the ‘call story’ of the young boy Samuel. The word of God was rare; visions were few. How might you describe today’s experience with the word, I wonder? Churches and preachers are everywhere, of course, in every neighborhood, on radio and TV. But how prevalent is God’s word and God’s vision for the world? Just because the Bible’s quoted and God’s name is invoked at everything from church services to banquets to football games, does it mean that God’s word abounds? Because the Bible’s the #1 book sold each year in the US, does it follow that it’s the most read or understood? (If you’ve ever had to dust a Bible, that might be a clue!) Let’s look a little closer at the story. Samuel’s mother Hannah presented him as a young boy to the Lord. Quite literally she did it, offering Samuel to the priest Eli to be raised serving God in the tabernacle, the great worship tent that was forerunner to the temple. As today’s story opens, Samuel may have been 10 or 11 years of age. He’s asleep one night by the Ark of the Covenant and hears a voice calling, “Samuel! Samuel!” He assumes it’s the aging priest who beckons (who else is around?!) and goes to him. “It wasn’t me,” says Eli. “Go back to sleep, my son.” Four times this happens until Eli finally gets it! “It’s God calling you, Samuel. If it happens again, say, ‘Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.’” So, Samuel welcomes the Lord, who tells the lad that Eli’s sons will be punished for their wickedness against God, and that Eli’s responsibility in the tabernacle will be taken away from him. Authority will be transferred to Saul, whom Samuel will anoint as Israel’s first king. It’s an overwhelming message for this kid, and who can imagine what must have been going through his mind as he lay there until dawn? The next day, at Eli’s command, he shares the sharp message of God and starts down a path that will change the history of the nation and, ultimately, the world. But I don’t mean to get ahead of the story; these verses have plenty more for us to deal with! First of all is the issue of being encountered by the word. It was ‘rare’ in those days. But God was persistent, calling Samuel time and again by name until he answered. Even though Samuel was raised in the house of the Lord, he didn’t That brings to mind the mentors of my early years as I was just beginning to connect to the church when I was in Junior High School. As I may have mentioned before, my parents were not church-goers. So I knew none of the Bible stories and nothing about worship. But in 7th grade I was welcomed by George, Betty, Dorothy and the pastor, made to feel at home, was taught, nurtured and encouraged by them. And, bit by bit, my ears began to tingle (to use the image from 1st Samuel!). Little by little I came to understand that the ‘call’ of Jesus was not just for those 12 long ago, but was somehow for me there and then. Samuel’s story reminds us of the personal nature of God’s encounter…of our call. In the waters of baptism, you and I are named—‘Child of God’—and with that naming come the gifts of the Spirit. Marked with the cross, your brow was anointed, like prophets, priests and kings before you, calling you into God’s service. I think that understanding of personal call by God is critical for every If you’re at all uncertain about this word/this call, you’re in good company! The Bible is filled with examples of those who feel least-qualified somehow accomplishing astounding things by God: there are well-aged Abraham and Sarah, stuttering Moses, weary Elijah, teenage Mary, uneducated Peter, James and John, clueless Nathanuel. They all join young Samuel in the long line of chosen ones, called by God and used by God to do what is needed to bless the world. There’s no way to prove it, I realize, but I happen to believe that God’s word is plentiful nowadays. The problem is that it is very often ignored. In this multi-media age, we are assaulted daily—almost at every moment!—with so much verbiage that God’s message can be obscured/blocked/hidden. Even those who seek it may have difficulty discerning it; so much of the verbiage is garbage! If you are among them, at the start of this new year, I’d like to encourage some resolutions that may help to open our ears to the word and call of God. Spending time with Scripture is a great starting point, so we can get used to the language of God, the vocabulary and cadence. In working with our ESL students, I’ve come to realize that they may know words individually, but have trouble understanding the meaning when they are spoken in a sentence. They need practice, practice, practice listening. Their ears need to be tuned to the sound of people speaking English. It think it’s very much the same with God. We need practice! Nurturing familiarity with the Lord’s voice will help us to pick it out from among all the other voices shouting at us, calling for our attention and allegiance. So we offer daily devotional books each quarter, and the Lutheran Study Bible has a variety of tracks for daily reading. In Lent we’ll be inviting the whole congregation to read through the Book of Acts to see the work of the Holy Spirit in the early church. And then at Easter we’ll ask everyone to chart their own “God sightings.” I also want to encourage parents and grandparents to take the role of old Eli in helping young people to open their ears to God, so that their hearts can be open to him. Our children’s library is a great resource, as are the “Little Lutheran” magazines we distribute. Preparing for or talking about worship each week can make an enormous difference for all ages. That’s why we always list next Sunday’s scripture readings in the Propers. Pray together, developing prayer lists with concerns near and far, and allow in those prayers time to listen, so that God can enter the space, speak, and make it holy. All of those are ways to get our ears tingling so that we can say with young Samuel, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.” They are ways to set us up to respond to what God is about in the world and how God wants to use us. They are also ways by which you and I can become a people—a church—full of vision, trusting in the power of God to redeem and make new. Whenever God speaks, I think, the power of that word generates vision for God’s people. The word may be one of judgment, calling us to repentance and change. It may be a word of promise, calling us to trust and hope. Just as God’s word got creation going ‘in the beginning’, in 2012 it continues that creating in Jesus, the Word-made-flesh, living among us ‘full of grace and truth.’ Until his kingdom comes in is fullness, God is always calling us to journey with Christ: into city slums, South African villages, to the halls of government and educational institutions, to hospitals and nursing homes and neighborhoods. Wherever there is need, God supplies; where there is grieving, God comforts; where there is despair, God brings new possibility. Because Jesus lives, there are no dead-ends with God. Our vestry embarked just yesterday on a visioning process that we hope will come to involve most, if not all, of you. The whole day was punctuated with God’s word and prayer as we considered who we are as church, what gifts we’ve been given, what new things God might be calling us to take on, (and what old things might need to be jettisoned!) ‘Who we are’ and ‘what we’ve got’ filled sheets of newsprint, and our retreat leader, Pr. Mike Bennethum, assured us that we just scratched the surface of that discovery. We are blessed, truly blessed, my brothers and sisters, and we know that God has placed us here with an eye on the future. This city is hurting, lives are broken, the world is a mess. And we’ve been entrusted with the power of God’s love to redeem and make new. How that future will unfold remains to be seen, of course. But as we move forward, I hope you understand how important your prayers, your study and reflection, your conversation and insight will be in helping us to discern God’s will and to chart the course for Old Trinity. May we be a chorus of voices bold enough to say, “Speak, Lord, for your servant is listening.” Amen. BAPTISM OF OUR LORD SERMON “In the beginning…” opens the book of Genesis. (The title itself, of course, means ‘beginning.’) The writer takes us back to the start: before there were people, plants, or animals, before stars and planets, when there was just….what?? Some would say ‘nothing,’ and there’s a school of theology that talks about God creating ‘ex nihilo’, from nothing. But, did you notice, that’s not exactly what Genesis tells us. Instead, it describes God creating out of mess…out of chaos. “The earth was a ‘formless void,’ and ‘darkness covered the face of the deep,’ while a wind from God swept over the face of the waters. Earth, deep, and waters are not ‘nothing’! Rather, God came blowing over the writhing, roiling turmoil!! By the way, the Hebrew word ‘ruach’ can be translated as wind or spirit or breath, depending upon the context. So, God blew/flew/breathed over angry seas, sulfurous smoke, swirling muck. God goes to work to make sense of the mess, establishing order, taming the nasty forces down below. (Think, maybe, of mom setting out to tackle the wilds of her teenager’s room!) And Genesis 1 goes on to tell us what extraordinary power God had to accomplish the work. Unlike Mom, God doesn’t even break sweat. God simply utters a word—that holy breath becomes speech—and creation comes into being. “Let there be light; and there was light. And God saw that the light was good.” You know how the rest of that story goes, I’m sure. With determined order and purpose, God separates light from darkness, land from seas, water below from water above. God puts a sky up there—in Hebrew cosmology it was a physical dome, like an inverted bowl to hold back the ‘water above’—and he fills the sky with stars and planets. God then gets going to create living things: in the water, on land, and in the air, culminating with creatures made ‘in his own image’: men and women. “Good, good, good, good, good, very good,” says God. Then it’s Sabbath Day—time for a nap! While to some the story may seem quaint, even juvenile, I do love that image of God taming the wild forces, with his word overcoming noise, ordering the chaos, bringing light from darkness, making wondrous life to teem over the earth. By the time we get to the 7th day, we’ve got the most blessed, peaceful, harmonious picture imaginable: “God’s in his heaven. All’s right with the world.” Then comes Genesis 2!: Adam, Eve, serpent, sin, punishment, pain and death. (So much for the ‘quaintness’!) It is as if evil discovers cracks in creation and finds ways of seeping through to spoil the ‘good’ with a return of mess/turmoil/chaos. And so the rest of the Old Testament chronicles centuries of struggle as God works to get his people to listen to his word, to follow the light, to choose a righteous life over the pitfalls of sin and death. By the time we get to the end of the Hebrew Scriptures, there is a great deal of mess and even more longing for what could be. The Promised Land, gift from God, was ruled by pagan foreigners; the king (also gift of God) was dethroned. The ‘chosen ones of God’ had become a second-rate people, lamenting the past and licking their wounds, with little hope, to be honest, about the future. And so, we come to the start of the earliest gospel, Mark, who begins his story of Jesus not with shepherds, manger, or magi, but rather with his baptism at the start of his ministry, about age 30. As Mark tells it, there are echoes of Genesis: swirling water, the Spirit of God, this time tearing open the heavens to come down, and the word of God declaring Jesus ‘my beloved Son.’ Water, spirit, and word bring to birth a new creation: as before, order from chaos, light to the darkness, but more in Jesus: forgiveness of sin and eventually life from death. Mark tells us that John the baptizer proclaimed “a baptism of repentance for the forgiveness of sins,” and we might well wonder why Jesus would need such a bath. There’s no sure answer ‘why,’ but it seems to me it is at least Jesus’ way of identifying with those he came to save. Just as he would come to know our temptation, hunger, pain, rejection, sorrow, fear and death, so here he walks through those Jordan waters of repentance, turning to God the Father as his source of direction, strength, and hope, calling us to follow. So this morning we remembered our own holy washing, as it took place however many years ago. We were born children of a fallen humanity, and in those waters were reborn ‘children of God, and inheritors of eternal life.’ It seems so simple a thing—water, word, spirit—but by God it becomes a life changing/life shaping event, powerful enough to deal with the chaos and chase the darkness that invades our own lives. You understand what I’m getting at, I trust. We know how all it takes are the results of a blood test or biopsy to turn our calm and certain life upside down. Or, the whole thing can come undone with the loss of a job, with a broken relationship, dealing with an addiction or depression, or the death of a loved-one. “Chaos, darkness, becoming unglued, spinning out of control” are ways of describing the experience. I’ve heard them countless times, so often accompanied by the questions: “What did I do to deserve this?” or “Why is this happening to us?” or “How in the world will I get through it?” That’s why, I think, remembering our baptism is so important, week after week, day after day. It reminds us, first of all, that the world is not as God intends it. Created ‘good,’ it has gone bad because humanity has used its freedom to ignore God. But God doesn’t call it quits. Rather, in Christ, God begins the process of re-birth. His kingdom is breaking in, but is still on the way…’now, but not yet.’ St. Paul describes the whole earth writhing in ‘birth pains,’ and it’s been a very long labor! When those chaos questions arise, as pastor I must admit I don’t have an explanation for the ‘whys,’ except to admit that this world is broken, and our lives are broken, and there’s plenty of evidence of that to go around. But that’s not all I have to say! In those same baptismal waters that called us to repentance, we are sealed with the promise of God that nothing will ever separate us from his love. St. Paul puts it: “Neither dangers, nor peril, nor sword, nothing in life or in death, will keep God’s love in Christ from you.” Just as that knowledge carried Jesus through wilderness temptation, repeated rejection, and heart-rending disappointment all the way to the cross, so God’s promises provide for you and me the anchor/the foundation/the lifeline (pick your metaphor!) for our own trials, assaults and stumbles. Once again, as pastor, I’ve seen the power of that trust and faith at work time and again. (I know you have, too!) There in the hospital room, through a counseling session, in the funeral home I’ve seen God’s love lighting up the path, stilling the storm, ordering the chaos. As has been the case for 2,000 years, holy communion and blessed community—body of the risen Christ—continue to work the miracles of life abundant and love eternal. We have this new year looming before us, and we look forward to some things we’ve got planned: our visioning work, weddings, fellowship events, new organ. It is, of course, the Unknowns that can be so fearsome: politics in the Middle East, economy in Europe, changing of the guard in N. Korea, presidential elections at home, new mayor in Reading, whatever’s next in the Reading School District…the next doctor’s visit, phone call, knock at the door. There are no working crystal balls or fortune cookies. You know that. But we do have this: water, word, bread & cup, and sisters and brothers in that Christ whose love will simply not let go…no matter what. Thanks be to God! Amen.
NAME OF JESUS SERMON It’s about time: January 1st is the start of a new calendar year. Tax deduction possibilities for 2011 are done; medical deductibles start again at zero. We need to get used to writing 2012. And everyone’s got a fresh new pack of offering envelopes—‘the gift that keeps on giving’! It’s also about family: January 1 is “The Name of Jesus” and rarely turns up on Sunday. (In the old red book, it was called “Circumcision of Jesus,” but I suspect that prompted too many awkward questions to Sunday School teachers. “What does that big word mean, teacher?” “Umm…ask your father, dear!”) At any rate, January 1 recalls Jesus’ family following the requirement that Jewish boys 8 days old be circumcised into the special people of God, marked in the flesh with the sign of the covenant. It was also the time of official naming: this child of Mary shall be called Jesus (actually Yeshua), as the angel of the Lord instructed both Mary and Joseph. Sure, January 1 is about chronological time (from the Greek word chronos)—the tick of the clock and dropping of the ball to indicate the passing of another 365 revolutions of the earth. But it is, more importantly I think, about kairos, God’s time, not tied to the clock tick, but more to the heart beat, tied to pulse, to life and readiness, relationship and welcome. Chronos time is necessary for TV schedules, for plane departures and arrivals, for marking the football quarters. But kairos tells you when it’s time to pop the question, when to change life’s direction, when the flower’s about to bloom, when the baby’s ready for delivery. Clocks don’t much matter when the time is right, when the situation’s ripe. With kairos, things just happen! In 1979, in a burial cave beneath the church of St. Andrew in Jerusalem, archaeologist Gabriel Barclay discovered a tiny artifact, a piece of thin silver rolled into a cylinder. It was determined to be from the 7th Century BC, the time of the prophet Jeremiah. Engraved in fine script on this scroll are these words from Numbers, so familiar to us: The scroll was likely made to be worn around someone’s neck as an amulet, a tangible blessing that would go wherever the wearer went. That blessing was first given by God through Moses to Aaron for the people of God. After 40 long years of ‘chronos’ through the wilderness, it was finally ‘kairos’ time! They were ready to enter the Promised Land, where Moses could not go, and so he prepared his successor with what they needed for the future, for their new life in their new home. Those few verses were an extraordinary gift, truly, one that continues to bless us (literally!) to this very day. But, as is so often the case, familiarity may obscure the richness of its treasure. So, let’s take a closer look! “The Lord bless and keep you” is the promise of God to provide what we need for life and strength, for health and security. It recognizes that our true needs (as distinct from our ‘wish lists’!) are always from God, who is the source of goodness and life. What we have is never our own doing or accomplishment. It is always gift, received from God’s gracious hand. “The Lord make his face to shine on you” connects us to the glory of God, lighting up the darkness of this world with his presence. When the ancient Israelites heard these words, they would remember the blazing glory of God on Mt. Sinai, the pillar of fire lighting their way through the wilderness, the blessing of a sunrise chasing night’s shadows, the warmth of Spring’s sun, promising new growth after the winter’s killing cold. For us, the blessing may also remind us of phrases such as, “She brightened the room when she walked in,” or “His face lit up when he saw them.” Can we imagine God’s face lighting up as he enters this space, or brightening a hospital room, our nighttime prayers, or the funeral home? The Lord’s ‘shining face’ has to do with the gift of relationship, the gift of one’s life/joy/blessing being offered to another. Think of a cherished family experience—perhaps one this past week—when the presence of one to another was the very best present of all. That’s what happens when God’s face shines on us! “The Lord look upon you with favor, and give you peace.” Here comes the promise of eye-to-eye contact, a person’s eyes often called the ‘window to their soul.’ While elsewhere in the Old Testament is the warning that the look of God will kill you (Mt. Sinai, remember?!), here it is the face of love. It is our Creator/Redeemer God—so devoted to our care and well-being. We all know the experience of walking down a busy street, with a blur of faces passing by, none of them much mattering to us. But then, we chance upon someone dear to us: eyes lock, smiles beam, leading to an embrace or kiss. More important than the dozens of others that passed you by, here are eyes that know you, cherish you, open up to you. That’s the face of God this benediction brings to us! And with that blessed look comes God’s promise: “So they shall put my name on the Israelites, and I will bless them." That story from ancient Israel may seem an odd piece of Scripture for this 8th day of Christmas, but I hope you’ve begun to see how this blessing takes shape in the gift of the Christ Child to us. The invisible, mysterious and ‘other worldly’ God is born to these ordinary peasant parents: teenage Mom and carpenter Dad. After centuries of waiting and longing and praying, the time is now right: Kairos!! So the Creator of the universe comes to stable and manger, to swaddling cloths and diaper. Israel’s fearsome warrior God drinks milk from his mother’s breast, coos and giggles on Joseph’s knee! Jesus looks into our eyes, then smiles/beams to capture our hearts. This “incarnation” of our God is so incredibly disarming and intimate. These past weeks have filled us with the gospel details of it all, wonderful stuff, of course. But this morning I’m really struck by the simplicity of Paul’s account in his letter to the Galatians. There’s nothing about angels, shepherds, taxes, or magi. He writes simply this: “When the fullness of time (‘kairos’!) had come, God sent a Son born of woman, born under the law, in order to redeem those who were under the law, so that we might receive adoption as children.” Do you hear that?! God’s Son is born to bring us into his family. Paul goes on, “God sent the spirit of his Son into our hearts, crying ‘Abba!’” As you may know, “abba” is the Aramaic word for daddy, often the first word a child utters: ‘Abba! Abba!,’ equivalent to our da-da or ma-ma. In Jesus’ language, it’s also the first word of what we’ve come to call “The Lord’s Prayer.” “When you pray,” Jesus says, “call ABBA,” literally “Daddy!” And as that prayer takes shape in us, it will go to work shaping and forming us, ever more deeply drawing us to him. Imagine his face lighting up when he sees us, looking deep into our eyes, urging us, “Don’t see yourself anymore as a slave. You are now my child!!” In a world that can be so callous and impersonal, with religious expressions so often full of judgment and mistrust, I think that this family image—this intimacy—is a welcome and profound antidote. “Abba” invites us to see what it means to be members of God’s family, to belong to Jesus and so to belong to one another. Perhaps you’ve noticed that I always begin my congregational letters, “Dear brothers and sisters.” I recall once, when I was in Latrobe, getting a pretty sharp retort from a member, asking me not to do that. “I am not your sister,” she insisted. I beg to differ. Like it or not, we are family, with Christ as brother and Lord God as Dad. Through the waters of baptism, we are adopted into that family, “christened” with Jesus’ name, made heirs to his kingdom, ‘one Lord, one faith, one God and Father of us all.’ In a time when politics, race, language, economics, and even religions encourage pitting ‘us’ against ‘them,’ Jesus moves us in the opposite direction, linking us together, children of God, with shared needs, hopes and dreams. In him, far more unites us than separates. In him, what joins us—God’s love and grace—matters far more than the differences, which are all so petty by comparison. That sense of family extends, of course, far beyond this room, past our Trinity roster, and ELCA membership. We are baptized into—made members of—the whole body of Christ, with sisters and brothers around the world and throughout the ages. One Christian writer refers to it as God’s “kin-dom”! So commemoration days—we’ve had Stephen, John and the Holy Innocents this past week—are glimpses into our shared family album. And the needs and concerns of people all over the globe are family issues dear to us: those who are persecuted in Egypt, hungering in Somalia, afflicted by AIDs and malaria in Southern Africa, homeless or unemployed in Reading. They are all kin! God’s blessing is sent to all. Because we are family, where the chance of climate, politics, or history stack the deck in favor of some and against others, it is up to us to right those wrongs, to give from God’s abundance, to spread God’s love. Because we are family, by God burdens are divided and joys are multiplied. With that picture of God’s family in mind, I pray that beginning this new year is much more than just another calendar page. I really do have a sense of God’s kairos among us. This past year has been such an exciting one: beginning a relationship with the Reading/Berks Literacy Council (we now have members tutoring here every day of the week!); strengthening our connections to 10th and Penn school; having our new Minister of Music in place—thanks be to God!; taking on ministry support in Southern Africa. And what a start 2012 has already! Tomorrow we host the installation of our new mayor and city council members; in a few weeks our vestry will launch “Vision 20-20,” planning to engage us all in charting God’s direction for the coming years; we expect to expand our media outreach with podcasts and blogging (and other things I know nothing about but expect to learn!); and, of course, we await the birth of our new organ (gestation period: 12 months). It’s about time; it’s about family. At this moment in time, I have no doubt that God has extraordinary plans for this family—in the center of our hurting city, so connected to this challenged world. May “the Lord bless us and keep us,” so that we can share God’s gifts gladly and generously. “The Lord make his face shine on us,” so that we can reflect his light and love with dazzling brightness. “The Lord look on us with favor and give us peace,” so that in creative and life-giving ways you and I can be for others the face of Jesus. In him, may the new year ahead not only be happy, but truly, richly, deeply blessed. Can I hear an amen?!
CHRISTMAS EVE SERMON After our Tuesday Advent supper discussions about the events leading up to Jesus’ birth, I’ve been paying close attention to our Christmas cards. I love the artwork that depicts this holy night: the venerable icons, the medieval and renaissance paintings, and, occasionally some more modern attempts. There’s a very interesting woodcut by the Lutheran master Albrecht Dürer on our bulletin cover tonight. (I encourage you to take a closer look when the lighting’s better!) While I don’t for a minute doubt the devotion of those artists through the ages, at the same time I have to wonder if they actually read the gospels! If Mary was recently engaged, she was likely about 13 years old or so, but she usually looks to be in her mid-20’s. Dear Joseph was likely an older teen, but he’s usually painted as a very old man. (Tradition wanted to keep Mary a virgin and so decided he was 92 when they married, and 112 when he died. Hmmmm.) You know Luke’s story. Joseph, whatever his age, and a very pregnant Mary had just finished an 80-mile walk from Nazareth to Bethlehem, through the rugged Judean wilderness. They end up in a stable (likely a cave) in Bethlehem, but in every painting I could find they are scrubbed clean, wearing freshly-pressed clothing. Jan and I have crèche sets from around the world. Not one of them is dirty or smelly. In every one, Mary and Joseph are serene; the baby sleeps. And even the night-shift shepherds are squeaky clean and apparently well-mannered. It is as if, for centuries, we have wanted the events of Christmas night to be perfect: sweet, gentle, quiet, out of focus just enough to soften the edges. Take this evening, for example: Blend the candlelight, music, pine smell, nostalgia, and eggnog just right, and we may be able to coast with barely a bump right into the New Year. Well, in spite of the ouches, the details from Luke’s gospel need to be heard, dear friends! God means to shake things up! Luke writes about the tyrannical rulers, who levy unfair taxes and otherwise call the shots. Politics and power loom as large over the holy family as they do over our own families. Theirs was, after all, an occupied nation, full of poverty, with little freedom, political or religious. Mary’s teenage pregnancy was a scandal! She was from Nazareth to begin with, a no-account village of mostly cave dwellers, way up North, far from the movers and shakers in Jerusalem. Pregnant out of wedlock, she could have been stoned to death. And Joseph, not the father of the child, could have cast the first stone. (Things regarding women’s rights, alas, haven’t changed much in most of the Middle East.) But, prompted by an angelic dream, Joseph chooses mercy over justice. The night of Jesus’ birth, after that arduous 9-day journey, Mary and Joseph were poor and homeless, squatters in effect, without medical coverage or care. Very soon they would become refugees, fleeing for their lives to a foreign land. Oh, and those shepherds? The baby’s first visitors had the reputation of being crude and vulgar people—hardly coochy-coo types!--from the bottom rung of the career ladder. The details of Luke’s story assure us of God’s heart for the poor, the oppressed, the voiceless and powerless. When God comes to earth, it is how and where we’d least expect it, with no comfort or status, a profound ‘heads up!’ to the life and ministry about to unfold in this Son of God. If Christ Jesus were born tonight, it would not be in the White House or at the Pentagon; not on Wall Street or in Hollywood. More likely, God would choose something like an alley garage behind a rental property on Cotton Street. God is making a statement, dear friends, as the Word becomes flesh and lives among us. God is identifying with the leasts and losts of this world, our country, this city. All through the Advent Season, we’ve been ending worship with the dismissal: “Go in peace. Remember the poor” because it is from there that the heart of God calls his blessed people! Last year Americans spent about $450 billion on Christmas. It’s less than the yearly Pentagon budget, but still a nice piece of change. Do you know what it would cost to provide safe, clean drinking water to every person on the planet? About $20 billion. So why hasn’t it happened? God only knows. When Mary sings her ‘Magnificat’ to Elizabeth, she remembers God’s promise to bring down the mighty and lift up the lowly; to feed the hungry with good things and send the rich away empty. (Sounds like an ‘Occupy Wall Street’ chant, to be honest.) As we see her little Jesus grow into adulthood, you get the idea this song must have been her lullaby, one which grew into Jesus’ theme song. He eats with sinners, he hangs out with the poor, he’s got no place to lay his head, relying on free beds and complimentary handouts as he and his disciples travel. Jesus touches lepers, empowers women, welcomes children (scandal, scandal, scandal!), all the while going head-to-head with the politicians and religious elite of his day. I bring up all of this because, if we’re here to celebrate Jesus’ birth, we’d better be ready for the rest of his life. Emmanuel—God-with-us—does not get packed away with the decorations come January. Rather, he invades the streets of this troubled city, hearing the cries and prayers of so many, seeking to assure them of his Father’s love and power, and calling on you and me to demonstrate it. Jesus speaks to us week after week from this book, and he feeds us at this ‘manger’, so that we can make real his life and love, so that we can shine his light and bring his hope to brothers and sisters in the shadows of Old Trinity’s steeple. So this past year has involved us with homeless families at Opportunity House, Hope Rescue Mission, Family Promise and with Habitat for Humanity. Do you see what God’s up to? All of these ministries engage the body of Christ in making real the love of God for the people of God. They are ways by which Mary’s lullaby and Jesus’ theme song echo through Reading streets and southern African villages, bringing healing and hope where, without Jesus, there would be none. As we come to Bethlehem this holiest of nights, please know not only the joy of this good news received, but also the privilege of being able to share it. Those uncouth shepherds went back to work telling everyone along the way what they had seen and heard. And just so God sends us out and about. But, as we go, let’s be sure that the news of eternal love on the loose is not only for the jobless and homeless. God comes not just to the people of south Reading, but also to those in Wyomissing and Shillington, on College Heights and Mt. Penn. God’s love and grace are for all who admit their need of it. (Repeat: to all who admit their need of it.) The Roman armies had no such need. They were, after all, the mightiest in the world. Emperor Augustus, Governor Quirinius, and King Herod had palaces, slaves and chests of gold. What difference could this baby possibly make? Even the temple officials and priests had God well in hand, thank you. The ‘system’ worked just fine for them without Mary’s son. That’s the danger of being privileged. Beware! When you’ve got a house and car (or 2), filled closets and refrigerators, some investments going to work for you, it’s tempting to think, “I’ve done it; I’ve got it made.” That sense of self-sufficiency probably does more to keep God at bay than any other human trait. (With all those gifts piled high, who can even find the baby Jesus?!) I pray that we who gather here can see through that charade. We know, don’t we, how fickle the stock market is, how fragile our bodies can be, how relationships can fail us. The world is filled with ruins that remind us how kingdoms, nations and cultures come and go. Their ‘security,’ like ours, is an illusion at best. The Son of God was born a pauper to bring home the truth that we are all as needy as exhausted Mary and Joseph. We are all as dependent as that tiny infant. We are all as unlikely-chosen as those scruffy shepherds to ‘come and see.’ In short, by the grace of God, you and I are in marvelous blessed company. “Christ is born for you!” the Polish carol sings, for all of us in need, to all of us who long. Emmanuel has come: God with us, God in us, God through us. Let us pray: O holy child of Bethlehem, descend to us we pray ADVENT III SERMON “O Come, O Come, Emmanuel,” we sing, “and ransom captive Israel that mourns in lonely exile here until the Son of God appear.” Conquered by the Babylonians around 590 BC, the leaders and most educated Israelites were carted off to exile in Babylon. The victors hoped to assimilate them into their sophisticated, comfortable, well-off culture, and so obliterate them. Some, perhaps many, gave in to their lifestyle and gods, but others remembered their own traditions and scripture, writing them down and passing them on to their children, longing always for the day of deliverance and return home. (Some scholars estimate that more than 60% of what we call the Old Testament may have come from that time in exile.) Well, after fifty years of waiting and praying, they were finally taken back home. But their excitement and thanksgiving were greeted with shock. The devastation of the old war was everywhere. Their glorious Jerusalem was reduced to rubble, with squatters living in the remnants of their houses. The glorious temple on Mt. Zion was a heap of broken stones; the kings palace, dust and ashes; the city walls, pitiful mounds of what used to be. Everywhere they looked they saw heartache, misery, loss. Perhaps exile was not so bad after all! Why would God have delivered them home, when there was no home left? Living through the loss was bad enough. Re-living it was very nearly unbearable. Given all that, the prophet Isaiah is charged with an enormous job. He needs to bring hope to his people in despair; to inspire faith in those who’ve pretty much given up on God. Today’s first reading begins with his introduction or, perhaps better, his induction. “The Spirit of the Lord God is upon me, because the Lord has anointed me; he has sent me to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, and to proclaim liberty to the captives.” Prophets, priests and kings were anointed with oil to draft them into God’s service. They were chosen to be used by God, to become blessings to God’s people. And, as we heard, Isaiah’s job jar was filled to overflowing! The images tumble over one another: releasing prisoners, comforting mourners, giving flower garlands to those on the ash heap, fragrant oil to the down and out. And then, verse 2, he speaks that loaded phrase: “to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” It refers to the “Jubilee Year” of God, supposed to happen every 50 years as God’s way of ‘resetting the game.’ The Jubilee Year was to be a time when debts were forgiven and when land would be redistributed. Every 50 years God intended to undo the widening gap between rich and poor, giving everyone a new, fresh start. But, although God declared it, can you guess what happened? It rarely, if ever, took place. Most often the Lord’s Jubilee Year was ignored because those who had were exceedingly unwilling to let go of their grip. And it was the ‘haves’ who called the shots. Imagine it today. The pope or bishop Hanson declares 2012 as “The Year of the Lord’s Favor”!! (Whistling…”I don’t hear anything. Do you?” Whisper: “Ignore it. Maybe he’ll go away.”) Well, God won’t go away, of course. Time and again, throughout the Old Testament and most pointedly in the life, death and resurrection of Jesus, God makes it clear that his gifts are given not be horded by a few, but to be shared as blessing to all. The rich young guy comes to Jesus and asks, “What must I do to inherit eternal life?” Jesus responds, “Sell all you have; give the money to the poor.” And the fellow walks away sadly…no doubt shaking his head in disbelief. In that context, Jesus was continually butting heads with the religious conservators, undoing their hold on God, shaking up very much things as they had been, in the temple, especially. Likewise, he saw his own mission as liberating, even quoting Isaiah in his first hometown sermon: “The Spirit of the Lord is upon me to bring good news to the poor, to proclaim liberty (there’s that libera again!) to the captives, recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free.” He’s about un-doing what was and is because when the kingdom of God breaks in, it pushes aside/transforms whatever is in the way. You’ll recall that Jesus’ first sermon was so unsettling that his own townspeople were ready to throw him over a cliff! There were (and are) plenty of folks—especially those in power—who don’t want things to change a whit. Year of the Lord’s favor? Bah, humbug!! Back to Isaiah, where there’s still more for him to declare. And what follows, I think, speaks with particular poignancy to our locale and day. “They will be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the Lord’s to display his glory. They shall build up the ancient ruins, they shall raise up the former devastations, they shall repair the ruined cities.” The image of an oak forest may be ho-hum to Pennsylvanians, who have the finest stands of oak in the world. But it was a marvel to imagine in mostly desert Palestine. Wood was almost as precious as gold, and much better for building. A forest of mature oaks would be a fitting testimony indeed to the glory of God…resources for the much-needed rebuilding that God promised. “They shall repair the ruined cities.” I’d like to shout, “Do you hear that, Congress? How ‘bout it, Governor?” But I suspect my shouts would fall on deaf ears in those imposing halls. I pray that’s not the case within these walls, dear ‘anointed’ ones. While the responsibility may well be theirs, the call is most certainly ours. Through the waters of baptism, you and I have been anointed/blessed/chosen by God to ‘display his glory’ as we repair, build up and raise what was laid low. We are God’s planting—oaks, perhaps, or wheat seeds or branches grafted to the vine. God plants, feeds and empowers us to be a harvest for good in this city, doing the work of God with our hands, hearts, minds and voices. Because that’s precisely how the ‘salvation of our God’ is revealed. Some people limit ‘being saved’ to ‘getting to heaven,’ and so see the stuff of faith having only to do with the sweet bye and bye. “The church should have nothing to do with politics,” they growl. Well, ‘politics’ is simply about living together (it comes from the Greek word for ‘city’, by the way), and it’s clear with both Isaiah and Jesus that God’s kingdom is very much about the here and now: the rule of God breaking into our troubled world, turning over, purifying, reshaping, making new, to God’s glory and to the peoples’ blessing. ‘The earth is the Lord’s,’ after all. It’s people, resources, air, water, land all belong to God. Some may pretend or act otherwise, but you and I know better. At most we are stewards—caretakers—never owners. That truth means that God’s will matters mightily in the world; we ignore it to our peril. The issues of jobs, economy, education, housing, health care, and environment are God’s issues. They are matters of faith because they are so critical to our life together, to the future of God’s people and planet. The decisions made in Washington and Harrisburg have implications far and wide, so Christians need to be concerned, informed and engaged with our leaders. But at the same time, I believe we can’t just say that it’s up to them. Whether they succeed or fail—do right or wrong in our eyes—you and I are put here for God’s purpose. Heirs to the kingdom, hearing and tasting it week after week, we are enlisted by God in the rebuilding of our devastated city. Our time, talent and money are conscripted by the Lord to display his glory and to demonstrate his love. Trinity is given a special call, I think, by virtue of its history as ‘mother church’, in its legacy of creativity and innovation, and through its membership of gifted leaders (going all the way back to Henry Melchior Muhlenberg and Bodo Otto!). We’ve been here in the heart of the city 260 years. Why? In order to be the heart of Christ pumping his love and life into it. With our vestry initiative, I pray that in the coming year we can flesh out more and more what that means for us and what it can mean for those who surround us. For starters, we’ve been asked to host the inauguration ceremony and reception for our new mayor and council members: beginning at Noon on January 2. (I hope you can join us, or watch it on TV.) It is, I think, a real privilege, not in the sense of being honored, but in the sense of being servants/partners/called. I hope you’ll agree that it’s a marvelous way to kick off a year of prayer, discernment and visioning about our mission and future. With so much need comes so much opportunity. So, I’ll be bold enough to paraphrase the prophet as I see ourselves: “The spirit of the Lord God is upon us because the Lord has anointed us to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the broken hearted, to proclaim freedom to the captives…” Please pray with me: O come, Emmanuel! Be God-with-us, for us, through us. Bless and strengthen us for the work you provide. Make of us a people of hope as can only come from you. Amen.
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