This is a recording of the service from 12-27-20. It is a rebroadcast of last year's Sunday after Christmas. It is a compilation of readings and carols.
Tonight’s gospel reading begins with three very important words: In those days! “In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered.” As we think about this treasured story, I am going to say something that just may shatter some of your preconceived notions. I must tell you, there is no historical evidence that this decree, as told by Luke, ever took place. And, unless there is something we do not know, the writer of Luke’s gospel also seems to be incorrect about Quirinius or Herod the Great or both because traditional dating of the birth of Jesus would locate it during the reigns of neither Herod the Great nor Quirinius. So, what is going on here? Well, Luke is not interested in giving an historical account of Jesus’ birth because he is interested in proclaiming a much deeper truth!
Luke gives us this information, not as history, but as a theological work to tell the story of One who has come into this world to change and quite literally shatter the status quo. Luke’s gospel, more than any of the other gospels, addresses the social, cultural, and political environment. So, Luke gives us this information as a way of setting the political and social context for the coming appearance of this One we call Jesus and the astonishing, awesome arrival of a brand-new world. Luke begins with “In those days…” as he depicts a time of census taking and taxes, a time of authoritative orders and pronouncements, a time shaped by business as usual in a world organized by accepted oppressive power structures, a world where those in power work to maintain the tired and hopeless status quo. The setting of Luke’s version of the Jesus story begins in the context of manifest political power, a context that, quite frankly, describes almost any time in history. Luke names the status quo way political, economic, and social forces shape our lives and our minds and our hearts to the point where we think that is the only reality. You see, that is the story of the world, that is the human story, the story of our human predicament. That is the story of “in those days.”
Yes, this gospel begins by naming the story of the status quo, tired and hopeless, business as usual human predicament of “in those days.,” so that we can begin to grasp the earth-shattering news that is announced about “This day…!” You see, a new time, a whole new age, has entered the world on “this day…” in the most unexpected way – in the form of a small, vulnerable baby. And, this new time is characterized not by the drudgery of business as usual or the threat of imperial power, but by the inbreaking of the heavenly realm, the wonder of the songs of angels, and the “good news of great joy for all people!” For “this day” has a political dimension; this new time is a direct challenge to the imperial world of “in those days.” There is a new Savior, a title formerly reserved only for the emperor. And, this new Savior comes in the form of a vulnerable baby, as God is birthing a whole new creation. This new day brings the extraordinary wonder of God becoming flesh – Immanuel, God with us. Can you now begin to grasp the magnitude of this earth-shattering news?
Friends, on this night, the news we receive is astounding, and we dare not forget the scandal and magnitude of this news, news of both the cradle and the cross. We dare not be lulled by our culture’s attempts to sentimentalize Christmas. We all do it and to be honest, it even happens in the church. Think for a moment about how our own hymnody conspires to tame this festival day into something more palatable and more feel good. Consider the opening of the beloved carol O Little Town of Bethlehem. “O little town of Bethlehem, how still we see thee lie.” Lovely words from Phillips Brooks. But, if we think about the tumultuous history of the Middle East, imagining Bethlehem as peaceful more expresses a longing than a historical reality. And what about Away In A Manger telling us, “The cattle are lowing, the baby awakes, but little Lord Jesus no crying he makes?” No crying? Any nurse or doctor would call that a zero on the Apgar score and would start resuscitation attempts immediately. Seriously, while we need these images to help us ponder the wonder and mystery of this night, they also soften and sentimentalize the scandal and earth-shattering nature of Christmas. Between sentimentality, emotional burdens, the pain so many are presently feeling, and unrealistic cultural expectations, perhaps we need this child of God to shake up what we have made of Christmas.
Friends, the reality is we come together this night to pay honor to our God who subversively came to change everything! And, how does God create this earth-shattering disruption? By bringing unconditional, transformational love to the world. This subversive God snuck into the back door of history on a mission to truly disrupt and change the world by turning our lives inside out and upside down with a love that truly changes us, a love that can transform everything and everyone. Coming as one of us – vulnerable, poor, and powerless – he came to upend the world as we have constructed it by bringing love into the world, a love the world would otherwise have never known.
He came to shatter our selfishness and narcissism, so that we might be able to love God and others. He came to shatter our fear of death, so that we might be able to live more fully and freely in this life. He came to shatter and change the political systems that choose who is in and who is out, so that we might embrace a wider vision the human family and discover that God’s family includes all people. He came to shatter our tendency of tribalism, something we presently see pushed to the extreme as it pits one group against another. He came to change our economy of values to build a different one based on valuing the eternal and life that truly matters. He came to shatter the old regimes of “in those days,” and bring in a whole new regime. Yes, he came to shatter every structure we try to build which puts us first at the expense of everyone else. He came to change us, and he calls us to follow him.
This is no small thing. For 2000 plus years, people have gathered to mark the birth of Christ as God’s subversive way of dwelling among us. Tonight, as we gather in the darkness of this pandemic, even if our gathering is online, we gather to celebrate this subversive God and mark a vision of the kingdom of God unfolding right here in our midst. And we do this because to you is born this day a Savior, who is the Messiah, Christ the Lord. May the wonder and mystery of this holy child disrupt and change your life, and bring you renewed hope not only on this day, but on every day as we move forward into yet another year. And, may the grace and love of this child be planted in your heart so that you may more deeply come to know how immeasurably you are loved by the God of all creation!
I would like to share with you the words of a new Advent hymn by David Bjorlin, a hymn that so beautifully describes what I am feeling in the deepest part of my being at this present time. These are the verses:
Come now, O God, when our love is forsaken.
Come, when our bedrock of faith has been shaken.
Come, when our deepest of hopes are mistaken.
Come, Emmanuel. Come, Emmanuel.
Come, when we squander the freedom you gave us.
Come, break the systems of sin that enslave us.
Come, though we wonder if you can still save us.
Come, Emmanuel. Come, Emmanuel.
Come, put an end to our self-serving madness.
Come, while the world is enshrouded in sadness.
Come, turn the tears of our mourning to gladness.
Come, Emmanuel. Come, Emmanuel.
Advent is a time to acknowledge and be honest about our longing for God to break into what was and what is. It is a time to articulate our longing for God to break into our forsaken love, our shaken faith, our mistaken hopes, the skewed ways we have squandered and abused the freedom we have been given, the systems of sin that enslave us, our self-serving madness, the world’s sadness, and our grieving tears. This longing we express with the words, “Come, though we wonder if you can still save us,” makes clear to me that we, on our own as human beings, are not capable of creating our own salvation. And, quite honestly, we do not even have the capacity to imagine the ways of God. The salvation we so long for is always something that must come from beyond us, beyond our own human understanding. The ways of God need to disrupt our present situation and break into our lives for us to become changed. And, we cannot anticipate how God will act, how God will break into human history – how God will surprisingly break into our history in truly unexpected ways.
So, as we live this season, I envision Advent as a time that could be compared to something like a hinge – it is a liminal, transitional space that holds the past and the future in tension. Advent invites us to be aware and to discern, to notice where a holy disruption breaks into what is and brings transformation. It is about being aware of the places where God is breaking into this world, where God is at work in our world, and where God is at work in our lives.
This year the tension of that liminal, transitional space has been especially strong. In the face of this pandemic, as we see thousands of people dying, as we see the growing economic blight, and the political self-serving madness and strife, quite frankly the peace foretold by ancient prophets seems illusory at best. The justice that makes valleys low and rough places a plain seems far off in face of oppressive, racist systems that scapegoat immigrants and devalue lives of color. And, when we consider our personal challenges and pains, and those of our family and friends, it can be confusing and very overwhelming. That is why, today’s gospel reading is such good news!
Today, as we look at our gospel reading, we can learn from Mary’s example. In today’s reading, Luke tells us that redemption is possible and, in fact, has already happened. Because of the birth, life, death, and resurrection of the Universal Christ, the holy continues to break into our lives to bring us ever more closely to the completion of creation.
When we look at today’s gospel, Mary, just like us, seems to be confused and overwhelmed. As we look at Mary’s response to Gabriel’s message, we discover she really does not fully comprehend the meaning of this news and, in fact, she has a choice in how she will respond. Theologian, Barbara Brown Taylor, addresses with deep insight the question of Mary's "choice," her freedom to respond in this most unusual situation in which she finds herself. Taylor says that, yes, the angel announced the impending birth and did not ask Mary for her assent, but there is a choice for Mary, "whether to take hold of the unknown life the angel held out to her or whether to defend herself against it however she could.” As she receives this news from God, Mary asks, “How can this be?” And then, she becomes not simply a passive recipient of this news. She responds by saying yes to this experience. She actively becomes a willing partner in the holy disruption that befalls her. And, because of her response, Mary’s womb gives birth to the Son of God and new life to the world.
Today’s gospel reading is all about the incarnation, it is about Emmanuel, God with us. Friends, this story of Mary is truly OUR story. It is about incarnate Love, incarnate Love that is with us, not just in a manger long ago but reborn in each one of us, reborn in the here and now. It is about saying yes to God’s incarnate love as it breaks into the most unexpected places and in the most surprising ways in each of our lives, saying yes so God is again born into this world. The 13th century philosopher, theologian, and mystic Meister Eckhart (1260-1328) echoes this when he writes:
We are all meant to be mothers of God. What good is it to me if this eternal birth of the divine Son takes place unceasingly, but does not take place within myself? And, what good is it to me if Mary is full of grace if I am not also full of grace? What good is it to me for the Creator to give birth to God’s very Son if I do not also give birth to him in my time and my culture? This, then, is the fullness of time: When the Son of Man is begotten in us.
Yes, Mary’s story is our story. Incarnation is an ongoing and steady process, not just a historic event. And, like Mary, we are given the gift of choice. Mary had the freedom to respond in this most unusual situation, and we are given this freedom as well. We can decide whether to take hold of the unknown life God holds out to us, even in these present, challenging circumstances, or whether to defend ourselves against it however we might.
Taylor says, “We have a similar choice between possibilities in our own lives. We can respond by saying yes or no: yes, I will live this life that is being held out to me or no, I will not.... You can say no to your life, but you can rest assured that no angels will trouble you ever again." And then, Taylor takes a bold turn that calls for courage on our part. She says, “If we say yes to our lives, you can take part in a thrilling and dangerous scheme with no script and no guarantees. You can agree to smuggle God into the world inside your own body." ("Mothers of God," is in Gospel Medicine).
So, friends, I ask you, how are you bearing God in this world? When we say yes, we become transformed, we are forever changed, and the world becomes transformed as we continue to give birth to the very life of Christ among us. When we say yes, we become a part of this movement that is the birthing of the growing Universal Christ in this world. And, the coming of Christ always brings forth a love, a peace and justice that transform the very world around us. You see, the love, peace and justice which come from God to transform the world, then work through us as we collectively act and live it in this world.
So, as we come to the end of this season of Advent, naming our longing for God to break in to what is and bring forth salvation, as we live in that transitional space that holds the past and the future in tension, we do this knowing that Christ is breaking in and Christ will continue to break in to the deep brokenness of this world. As we move through this week and again experience the coming of the Christ child, we know this birth means it is time for us to give birth to the Universal Christ. And, then it is time for the work of Christmas to truly begin, the “work of Christmas” Howard Thurman writes about when he says:
When the song of the angels is stilled,
when the star in the sky is gone,
when the kings and princes are home,
when the shepherds are back with their flocks,
the work of Christmas begins:
to find the lost,
to heal the broken,
to feed the hungry,
to release the prisoner,
to rebuild the nations,
to bring peace among the people,
to make music in the heart.
Walter Brueggemann, one of my favorite theologians, when reflecting on this time in the church year, writes the following, “Advent does not begin in buoyancy or celebration or in a shopping spree. The natural habitat of Advent is a community of hurt. It is the voice of those who know profound grief, who articulate it and do not cover it over.”
Yes, that is our habitat as we experience Advent, especially this year, and I have been deeply feeling the hurt, the pain, and the grief. Ours are voices of those who know profound grief. We are in a very dark place at the present time and it is imperative that we articulate the pain and grief and not cover it over. It is also imperative that we listen to those who speak truth as we experience this grief. We are living in a culture in which “truth decay” (a term recently coined by President Obama) seems to permeate every facet of our life, and it is critical in this dark time that we listen to those who witness to the truth, not those who spew forth toxic conspiracy theories, lies and misinformation. Right now, in the depth of our pain, it is vital that we listen to the scientists and medical professionals because they are the ones who point to the truth and point us to what we need to do to eventually reach the light at the end of this very dark tunnel. They are the ones who testify to the truth, a truth to which we must listen because that truth to which they testify is ultimately life-giving during this dark time.
I say this because, when looking at today’s gospel reading, at the time when John appeared on the scene, the people were hurting and facing much suffering. And, this character, John, enters the scene as one who comes bearing witness to the truth. In today’s reading, we meet John, the first human mentioned in the Gospel of John. This lone character, John, is the star of today’s show and he is a man sent from God. It is important to note that he is not identified as John the Baptist as we find in Matthew’s gospel. He is not identified as John the baptizer as in Mark. And, he is not identified as John the son of Zechariah as in Luke. He is simply identified as John. He is John the Witness. While he is described as doing some general baptizing here and there, a careful read of this gospel writer’s story of Jesus' baptism reveals that John does not even baptize Jesus. His primary role is not as one who baptizes but one who testifies to the light coming into the world. In John’s gospel, this John character is a very human witness to a cosmic event. You see, God is about the business of ordering a new creation, a new presence of light in the world, but this effort necessitates a fellow human to point to the presence of this light. Otherwise, human as we are, we might not see it. So, that human is John.
Smack dab in the middle of the out of this world, beyond time and space beginnings of this fourth gospel, interrupting the unfolding of a truly cosmic birth story, John appears, testifying to the light. Well, his testimony brings on all kinds of questions. So down from the capital come the interrogators, and the result is a fierce press conference. “Who do you think you are?” “Do you think you’re the messiah?” “Are you representing yourself as Elijah?” “Why are you baptizing like this?” “What do you say about yourself?” The questions ricochet like rifle shots bouncing off walls. The aim of these questioners is to reveal some damaging information, some falsehood, to show that this threatening figure of John is just a cracked and broken cistern like the rest of humanity. After all, just maybe he does think he is Elijah incarnate, or worse, fancies himself the actual messiah and comes seeking fame and glory. If so, you can be certain John’s message will be tried, twisted, and tested like the message of a politician on the campaign trail. He will likely be dubbed a damaged and flawed human being, full of worldly ambition and self-delusion.
But John’s answer is quite surprising. “It’s not about me,” he replies. “I’m pointing beyond myself to one who comes after me, to the Lamb of God. My whole life has now become a gesture to what God is doing to shake the foundations of the status quo and re-create the world.” You see, because John has a holy vocation, not merely a human ambition, the fear of exposure before the glare of interrogation simply vanishes. He does not fear! He seems to say, “Find all the flaws you want and smoke out all the vanities you can find. The meaning of my life is not in what you think about me, but how you respond to the one to whom my life points.”
John identifies himself in, with, and by his relationship to the light, to the One who is coming, to the One known as Jesus, to the One who is shaking the status quo and recreating the world. And, whereas the One who is coming, this One who is recreating the world, defines himself as "I AM," John is clear to say, "I am not." He is not the Messiah, Elijah, or the Prophet. He is not the light that shines in the darkness. Yet, even in his resolute claims about who he is not, who he is and why he is here is defined by and inseparable from the presence of the Word made flesh in his midst. He knows nothing but to articulate his identity and live out that identity in connection to Jesus' identity. John’s sole vocation in this fourth gospel is to bear witness to the Word made flesh, to bear witness to the light. In fact, in this gospel, John is the lead witness on Jesus’ behalf.
It is fascinating to note that the verb “witness” is used thirty-three times in the gospel of John but only twice in the entirety of the other three gospels. John’s role in this gospel is to recognize the true light when it appears and to testify to that light. John does not fear as he stakes his very life on his call to testify to the light so that others may recognize it and believe – that is, recognize, trust in, and commit themselves to the light. John truly understands his role and who he is. He is not the Messiah. That job has already been filled. He simply lives his life pointing to the Messiah.
Like the man whose name was John, the church, and that means each one of us, is sent into today's world as a witness. And, when we look at today’s reading and John’s witness, we find we may characterize this witness as public, certain, and humble. These qualities are most certainly in tension with the spirit of our age. Most people today regard religion as a private matter. Most people want to keep their personal beliefs quiet, staying safe and cocooned in their comfortable and all too often misinformed bubble, not getting their hands dirty because any other way of living is too risky. Furthermore, certainty and truth are also shunned in these postmodern times. Yes, “truth decay” permeates our culture and we are all victims of our own perspectives and the bubbles in which we live. Truth has become so relative – who can ever know for sure whether anything is true or not? In fact, a focus on truth is something that seems harder and harder to find. Still, we who claim to follow Jesus are audacious enough to believe that the gospel is true, and that it must be lived out in our daily lives and proclaimed boldly – publicly and confidently, without fear. The trick is to bear witness to this truth with humility. For John, and for each of us, that means directing people away from self and toward Jesus.
In this Advent season, our reading on this Sunday calls us to trust God’s living Word to us in the person of Jesus Christ, and to live out our faith by trusting in and pointing to the One who is greater than ourselves. As we do that in this present time, we acknowledge our pain and the fact that we presently live in a world where, as Walter Brueggemann says, “the kingdom of death is surging – in the virus, in the failed economy that breeds starvation for many, in our ready embrace of brutality, [in the hatred and racism that plagues our culture], and in the surge of anti-neighborly, fearful greed. This is the truth that is right in front of us. It is not however, the whole truth. It is not the truth entrusted to us. The truth entrusted to us is that there is a ‘coming one,’ [the One to whom we point] who in actual bodily ways rescues from the power of death.” Come, Lord Jesus, come!
We all have certain things in life that provide us with a sense of comfort when we feel stressed out or feel we need a bit of solace. Food is one thing that probably provides a kind of comfort for all of us in one way or another. There are some comfort foods I simply love – like the brie and lobster grilled cheese sandwich on sourdough bread at River House in Williamston. I could relish eating that sandwich every single day. As I savor the flavors of the soft, warm brie and the tender pieces of delicious lobster meat, each luscious bite provides a feeling of wellbeing and comfort. Sitting downstairs in our family room with a fire burning in the fireplace on a cold snowy evening, while at the same time reading a book and having a glass of wine, is another experience that provides a stress relieving sense of comfort for me.
We are presently experiencing some very stress-filled, grief laden, anxiety producing days. And, as we look at Isaiah’s words to us on this day, they provide us with an experience of comfort that is truly gift as we hear, “Comfort, O comfort my people, says your God.” When I initially read these words, I felt them in a deep, even guttural way, as they touched my very soul. They are words I needed to hear. It was truly soothing to receive this word and experience a feeling of comfort that deeply touched my spirit, even to the point that I began to breath more deeply. Reading these words also made me very aware of the depth of my own discomfort and dis-ease and, quite likely, these words may also make you aware of the depth of your discomfort and dis-ease in this present time.
This first reading comes from second Isaiah when the prophet was speaking and writing to people who were living in exile in Babylon. In 586 BCE, the Jerusalem Temple had been destroyed, the people had been taken captive, then led away to exile in Babylon. Isaiah is speaking to people who have been living in exile. And, I have no doubt that part of their exile experience included living with abusive, harsh, weaponized, hurtful, and critical language. So, Isaiah’s tender words must have been like a healing balm for the people. You see, words really do matter. Words shape us and mold us, for better or worse! Words can be hurtful, damaging, and injurious, or they can be healing, life-giving and comforting.
This whole passage is a kind of embrace. It begins with words of comfort and ends with the image of a “mighty God.” However, the “mighty God” image is not that of a mighty warrior, not one of a returning hero, but rather the image of a caring, tender shepherd. Isaiah speaks of a shepherd feeding and leading his flock, gathering lambs, carrying them in his bosom, and gently leading the mother sheep.
I ask you, as we are honest about the dis-comfort and dis-ease we have been experiencing, what better image is there than that of a God who embraces you, takes you up and holds you close in God’s very arms, whispers in your ear that you are loved, and says, “It’s going to be ok!” This is an image of the very arms of God pulling her children close, pulling each one of you close! Yes, there is so much discomfort in our hearts these days, both individually and collectively. There is discomfort because of the abusive, harsh, hateful, weaponized rhetoric that has been hitting us like bullets for the past few years; discomfort because of this pandemic; discomfort, distress and grief because so many people are dying; discomfort and hardship because millions of people are out of work; discomfort and anguish because millions will likely be losing their homes; and, discomfort and suffering because millions of people are food insecure and that number is growing on a daily basis. So many voices, so many needs, so much pain, so much death, so much sickness – and sometimes you just need to be hugged! You don’t need too many words, just a presence, a touch. At a time when we are unable to be such a physical presence to one another because of this pandemic, these words today seem to provide that needed touch. They are a healing, life-giving hug from a loving God as God holds us and says, “Everything will be all right.” For each one of you who might need an embrace because everything seems just so challenging right now, I encourage you to take a moment and picture yourself being taken into God’s loving arms and held close to God’s bosom as God offers you words of comfort saying, “It’s going to be ok!” This God in whom we trust truly does comfort the afflicted.
As we look again at our reading from Isaiah, we discover there is more, something else that is very important for us to understand. In the middle of the passage between words of comfort and the tender image of being carried in the bosom of God, we are given things to do and things to be about. Yes, right in the middle of this passage we receive words that truly speak to my heart and my passions. Right in the middle of this lovely reading come words that, to me, are thrilling when we hear:
A voice cries out: In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord, make straight in the desert a highway for our God. Every valley shall be lifted up, and every mountain and hill be made low: the uneven ground shall become level, and the rough places a plain. Then the glory of the Lord shall be revealed, and all people shall see it together.
Friends, you see, we are comforted and spoken tenderly to so that we can be about the business of comforting others! We are comforted so that we can be about the business of leveling the playing field and creating access for every beloved child of God who yearns to be safe, who yearns to make a living, who yearns to be educated, who yearns for a job, who yearns to provide food on the family table, who yearns and struggles with the dis-ease of economic blight, who yearns to just have enough but instead wakes up every day with the discomfort of poverty and dead ends and mountains too high to climb.
Inspiring, motivational speakers are always telling our young people, “Anything you want to become you can become, if you work hard enough.” Now, I am all for individual responsibility and hard work, and there are stories of remarkable triumphs out of the depth of despair and depravity – but, we have to be realistic and understand that, generally speaking, this kind of encouragement is patently false. It is false because, for far too many people in our culture and our world, the decks are stacked against them, the valleys are far too deep, the mountains are far too high, the ghettos are far too rough, and the playing field is so unevenly tipped towards those who have money, influence, connections, power, the right gender and race. This is true and the exceptions only prove the rule.
So, today, we hear Isaiah’s voice come to us resounding through the ages saying, “YOU – the so-called beloved community – you prepare the way of the Lord!” And it is of profound importance that you understand the arrangement of these verses. For only after the highway is made straight, and the valleys are lifted up, and the mountains are made low, and the uneven ground is leveled and the rough places are made a plain… only after the way is prepared will the glory of the Lord be revealed, and then the people will see! You see, when we have joined God in building the beloved community – the presence of the Lord will be self-evident to everyone!
Friends, as we wait for God’s coming, for the birth of the Christ child, we do not wait passively! We wait while actively participating in God’s living, creative, redeeming Word. Too often we passively wait instead of actively participate in God’s call to work for change in people’s lives and in our culture. Advent is a time to face our discomfort, to turn around and turn back to God and, as we wait, participate in the coming of God’s living, creative Word to the world. Friends, God works through us to change peoples’ lives, to change culture, and to make all things new. As we actively bear God’s creative and redeeming Word, we go to the places where people languish, we do the work of leveling the playing fields, sharing the abundance, and occupying the rough places with words and acts of hope, of equity, of fairness, of love, and of justice. And, as we prepare the way for the coming of our Lord, we point to not just the Christ child, but the universal risen Christ as we lift our voices, proclaiming good tidings of hope and comfort, saying, “Here is your God!”