How Full is Your Lamp?

Just before worship started, I was talking with someone about the modern understanding of the word, “Gospel.” Oftentimes today it is interpreted as “good news” and it is, and yet that good news is seen as being words that affirm and uplift us and tell us we’re ok. Yet sometimes, the other function of the gospel is to speak truth- a truth perhaps we need to hear, spoken in love but not comforting. If you came to church today expecting warmth and comfort from the lessons- Sorry.

This past Wednesday I asked the folks at Table Church to sit and wait for a minute. I’d like us to do that as well.

You all did pretty well, but the truth is many of us don’t like to wait. Including your pastor who as you noticed checked her watch pretty often. On Wednesday, about halfway through many were starting to fidget, and at the end of the minute a couple kids commented on how hard waiting is, especially without Xbox or something. And I suspect a couple adults were wondering what would happen to that hot food if the pastor was going to make us wait. That minute felt long. Waiting can be hard.

"What will we do while we wait?” is the question Matthew’s gospel is addressing today. We’re waiting for Jesus to return- much longer than Matthew's original hearers.

SO what should we learn today? HAVE ENOUGH OIL.

While that seems like something to do, I want to suggest that it is not just about cornering the market on something. The oil is not the kind we watch the news to see if prices are up or down. Literally it’s Olive oil. Perhaps you hadn’t thought this but, literally, the answer to, "What shall we do while we wait?" is "Make sure you have enough oil for your lamps."

In an age of electricity, where we no longer need to put oil in lamps, what can that mean?

The five foolish bridesmaids ran out of it and the five wise ones had enough to go the distance. But what does the oil represent?

Martin Luther thought it represented faith- don’t run out of faith. I don’t agree with Luther. Because Faith comes from God- can you run out of faith if God is the provider?

Others think that the oil represents good works. Don’t stop doing good works.  But then what of grace? Imagine the frenzy of last minute good deeds- that seems to suggest if we do enough, we earn it. I’m not sure good works is quite right. Which speaks a word to lots of people today focused upon community service, especially young adults. Good works are good-and we all could use all we can get. At the same time, when the project is done, what is beyond it? What is the sustaining presence for all the other moments? The ones without projects?

Still someone else suggested the oil seems to be a generic reference to faithful and obedient discipleship as defined by the whole gospel. To be like the slave who elsewhere actively, faithfully, and obediently carries out what he has been instructed to do. It’s about trust. But where do we buy more trust?

Obviously there is something to being active in waiting, and in trusting, but maybe it’s not about doing those things as much as its about not running out of the power to do them.* We who are told to tend the light are also told to go and be light for the world. We need a power that produces good deeds- the power needed to produce light. Maybe this parable is using "oil" to be our relationship with God, who is the source and power behind our good deeds and our trusting.

And then maybe we can ask- how full is our lamp? Perhaps some of us are burning brightly this day, or perhaps some of us are sputtering out. But one thing is sure- the lamp needs to be tended. Like any relationship. Our relationship with God requires our attention.

To borrow yet another relationship phrase- does your relationship with God have a spark? If you walked into Jesus would you feel like you know each other? Or would you sense only a faintly distant connection?

When our girls were little they only saw my parents at holidays and the rest of the year we faced the challenge of helping them remember who these people who were so eager to see them and bring gifts were. We’d talk about how their grandparents were coming. We’d get the house ready for them. But it took other ways of being in touch while we were waiting to keep their relationship current. Phone calls, pictures, videos, telling those distant relatives what they’ve been doing. Even though those deeds weren’t the basis of the relationship, they were part of letting the grandparents know who their grandkids are and vice versa. To a certain degree as parents we mediated the relationship until it was strong on its own.

“If we understand "oil" as having a close relationship with God -- the power behind our lives -- the power that gives us a "glow" as shining witnesses in the world -- we must acknowledge that it is possible to let that relationship "run out". When the bridegroom comes, it (seems) too late to try and establish the relationship.” And in that context when we hear that those frenzied bridesmaids came back they found the door closed perhaps it’s important to note that although the door was closed, we don’t hear who closed it.

We just know it was closed. God gives us a relationship and faith and while God never closes the door, we can. And while our salvation is assured, we can in this life lose the power and strength we need and long for in this life. Our relationship with Jesus – being known by Jesus- can’t be mediated through other people who have it. I can’t do that for Jane, for example, nor she for me. This is why the other bridesmaids cannot share their oil. Our relationship with God needs us to keep glowing. And as we hear in Amos, it’s about more than just going through the motions of worship an hour a week.

It’s a relationship- God longs for and indeed kindles the spark of our faith for much more. Our deeds then are a response and even help fan the flame, but our works are not the relationship.

Being disciples in this way with God means we are tending that relationship and doing what God desires in an ongoing way. It doesn’t mean we cannot rest- after all , all the bridesmaids rested. But it does mean constantly tending our relationship with God so it has the power and meaning and support we need to avoid panic and chaos.

God wants to have a personal relationship- one where we share our hopes and fears, and where God invites us to share in a meal that reminds each of us- this is “for you.” And the door is open.

God is always striving to establish that personal relationship. One where today matters not just someday- for us and for the world. While we wait we can know the power of encountering Jesus, entering now, inviting us in to participate and celebrate the many comings of the Christ: Jesus' presence in the Word; in the Sacrament;  in the gathering together; in our going out to make disciples; as we minister to the "least of these." This is what we are given to do and to experience. And it’s a lot.

Yet, these are also the connections with Jesus that keep our "lights" empowered for witness and service and keeps our relationship burning brightly. The truth is that we all at times are foolish, and we fail to tend those lamps as we should.  What continually enables us is what God continually gives, summed up in this prayer from St Claude de Columbiere I invite you to join in now. Let us pray:

Jesus, I feel within me  a great desire to please you  but, at the same time,  I feel totally incapable of doing this  without your special light and help,  which I can expect only from you. Accomplish your will within me-- even in spite of me.   AMEN

* Brian Stoffregen, Crossmarks

Crazy Love

How many of you are familiar with Albert Einstein’s definition of “insanity?” Einstein defined insanity as doing the same thing over and over again, expecting different results. Our first dog helped us experience this. Every day when the postal carrier would come to deliver mail, the dog would go nuts, and bark her head off, and sounded like given the chance would have attacked the person just delivering messages through the mail slot. From the dog’s perspective she was a success- every day some stranger came and tried to put stuff in our door and she barked and the person left. That’s not insanity.

Insanity was what we did. Every day we would chastise the dog for that behavior and tell her not to do it. And it never changed. You’d think that since we provided her a safe and comfortable home and good food, and she always cornered the best spot in a nice fluffy bed. You would think that she’d listen. But every day, the postal carrier would appear, and the dog had the same response. Because to our dog, “This is MY HOUSE!” And she was in charge.

Our dog was not exhibiting insanity- we were. For thinking that on a different day or with a different person the result would be different. And we could have given up on the dog but we didn’t. Because we loved the dog. And thankfully she never “got” that person who came and shoved mail through the slot in our front door.

But insanity, that act of doing the same thing over and over again expecting a different result is perhaps the best way I know to describe what we see in the vineyard lessons today. Stories of wild grapes and tenants run amok, and the actions of the owner of the vineyard. (Thanks David Lose!)

The owner has labored to create a vineyard, tilling soil, planting lovingly, setting everything in order for the best and most abundantly possible harvest, and then gives the care of the vineyard over to other. In Isaiah we hear that it all goes wild from there and the temptation is tear it all down. But in the gospel, we hear about the tenants in a different way. And as far as we know in most respects they have been good tenants and have cared for the place. They’ve been given a place to live and a job to do- bring in the harvest. And presumably they’ve been given a promise that some of the harvest will be theirs as their pay, but of course the rest goes to the one who owned the land and who created the vineyard. And the harvest has come!

But now they look around and they see that harvest and they just don’t want to share. They’ve worked hard day after day for an owner who isn’t really around. They’ve put themselves into it and it doesn’t seem right that most of this goes to someone else.

So when the landowner sends servants to collect, they don’t receive grapes of joy in the harvest. Instead, to borrow the phrase from John Steinbeck, they meet with grapes of wrath. In wrath and anger those poor servants are abused or killed. Because the tenants have decided that this is MY PLACE!

Here’s where the insanity starts.

The owner could do as we would at this point, send in police or soldiers and take this by force. But instead, the owner sends more servants! Who sadly meet the same result. And that’s crazy! Why would the owner put so much at stake to risk a different result? More grapes of wrath. And frankly now the tenants are feeling the battle surge.

So then it really gets crazy, because the owner says, “I’ll send my son. They’ll listen to him. They’ll show respect, and recognize his authority, after all they have had a job and a place and are getting cared for.”

And we know how it ends. More wrath and killing.

The question isn’t really so much why did the tenants act that way- we sadly expect it. The stories in our world and our lives tell us this.

The question is, “why did the owner act that way??”

Why would anyone try to live in the framework of a relationship over and over when it is clear that it’s so one-sided?

That’s just crazy.

Today’s parable was told by Jesus to the leaders of the temple to show them who they were- those who rejected over and over the messengers of God. And while it’s a story about them and about how they would go on to reject even the Son, none of us should be under the impression we would be any different.

When so often we find in our own lives, ways we reject God’s call upon us to care for the vineyard, for those who show up in it, or to listen to God. When it is easy to respond to others not with love but with wrath. To call upon force rather than tend relationships.

Our news and our own stories tell us this is true. And in the end so much of what we’re given we are sure is OURS, because we’ve been tending it, we hardly think at all about who else might have a stake.

We can do a fine job of serving up grapes of wrath. That’s not the gospel.

Sometimes we have to work harder to see what the good news is.

The bigger and more important part of the parable however is what we know of God. It’s the story of one who lovingly arranged a place for us to live and to work and to grow, and who despite all our rejections and possessiveness, and even our violence and spite, continues to send not only messengers but to send the Son.

This side of the cross we know just how crazy this love God has for us really is. Christ on the cross is the ultimate message, that takes our wrath and made of it, our salvation.

If God responded towards any of us as we deserve, there would be wrath and destruction indeed. How unexpectedly graciously instead,

God persists over and over in a relationship with us, however one-sided, and while it is indeed the height of insanity, it is the best demonstration of crazy love we’ll ever see.

The grapes in the end are not grapes of wrath, they are grapes of mercy and forgiveness and love.

And this day again we will taste them. We’ll come because God invites us and we’ll receive the body and blood of Christ who died at our hand, but for us. So today, maybe, we’ll taste these grapes and maybe linger over it, and savor that taste that for us is the taste of love and mercy for each of us and for all of us.

And then maybe remember that of all the things we clamor to possess, or to know, the sweetest and best is God’s crazy love for us all.

 Amen.

 

** thanks to David Lose, and Sharron Blezard for the inspiration

 

 

When Empty is Good

They go the tomb and it is empty. Empty. Things that are empty are not usually positive- the empty gastank, the empty bank account, the empty refrigerator. Empty is a place of fear, of not enough- that its not enough, or we’re not enough. Empty just by watching your faces tells me feels like doubt, or fears. They go to the tomb and hear- not here. And whether “not here” is like that voicemail message when we wanted help or that spot where someone used to be, “not here” tells of feeling alone, and of loss and sadness. Empty and not here- often means what we don’t see. The women come desperate for meaning and first encounter empty and “not here.”

But then they are rocked with something more. And encounter what happens when empty turns out to be a good thing. It’s mystifying and not fully there. They don’t get to see Jesus but they hear one thing.

But they hear he has risen and to go and tell.

And somehow it is enough

To leave the tomb and move forward instead of remaining paralyzed like the guards. No amount of words can fully capture what that glimpse and truth would mean.

They leave with that and a promise they will learn more on the way.

It’s not everything but it’s good news. And they don’t leave just with the same ration of fear and sadness, they leave with fear AND joy. Both.

Sometimes people tell us that to be a believer means that when we face the unknown or mystifying we just need to have faith.

Not so says the resurrection story.  

Having fear is not the absence of faith. Instead God sent a messenger to help us see the difference between stunned and stuck. Even when we feel like we’re moving but we’re not sure how.

Somehow some of the fear has been left behind in that tomb with the old grave clothes and yesterday.

And it’s replaced with a seed of faith and joy

That there really is new life in this story

There really is more than we see.

Because God has acted and Christ is risen and though we don’t understand all of it, we really will be given what we need on the way.

And as the story is shared, and other things are seen and heard, each who encounters will come to faith, but differently. Just like us. That somehow we see that what seems empty is good.

Recently there was another moment where empty is good- it was last Sunday when we had our first Sunday as one unified worshipping flock. And at the end of communion, the napkin the holds the bread was empty! There were enough of us here that I got the last little tiny bite. Empty! Praise God! I think that moment was one where we gathered in fear and joy and wondered if it would all be OK. And God delighted us with more to strengthen our faith together. That bread napkin was empty! And it was good.

There’s a third time that empty is good. It’s when this place is empty. When we who have been forgiven fed and filled, leave. Because the sharing of the gospel is happening out there along the way. I hope and believe and am filled with joy as I continue to see new faces here- young and old, from everywhere. And I don’t think they’re here because they suspect we have it all together. I think it’s because we are willing to share how we have encountered the good news and invite people to come and see with us on the way.

Some of you have come this day brimming with good news in your lives, and some have come hoping to hear Alleluias that maybe will start to feel true. Still others may wonder if the experience will match the greatness of expectations, or fear that you won’t pull off the perfect Easter day.

Each time we gather and share the story of Christ and share in resurrection, we share those glimpses we see on the way that strengthen us all. Those messages that allow us to look into that tomb and leave behind some of the fears.

And in place of that spot, the emptiness is filled with joy, and with faith. And that’s why I want to invite and encourage each one of you here to keep walking on the way, keep coming again to speak of things that looked empty but led to new life. Of the mysterious power and love of a God that wants to fill our empty places and replace our fears with joy.

God wants to help as us see in the way Brian McClaren has stated it-“that it is enough to faithfully and simply tell the story- of women at dawn, of men running half believing, of rolled stones and folded grave clothes. Of a supposed gardener saying the name of a crying woman, and sad walkers encountering a stranger on the road home. Of an empty tomb and overflowing hearts….(and) God comes to give us wisdom to know that the best we can do is stand in awe. Christ’s work on the cross and that empty tomb surpass all our flowers and flourishes on this day of mysterious hope beyond all words.

May we be less conscious of achieving the perfect decorations, or the finest music or wondering if our emptiness shows. May we instead be drawn more deeply into the confidence in in the Risen Christ whose presence here trumps it all.  God is a God of new life and never-ending possibility. Forgiveness and grace and love for us.

May we this day be surpassed by the simple but undeniable joy of standing together and daring to proclaim the good news- Risen Indeed! Alleluia! That death is not the last word. Violence, hate, condemnation, betrayal and failure are not the last word.

No. Each of them are left behind like rags at that tomb. And from that tomb arises Christ- Alive! For us! Forever!

 

You Are

Given the nature of our existence lately here in the land of the polar vortex, there are lots of things I could say about salt and light. Including that because a sidewalk was not salted, I ended up doing a faceplant which fortunately only involved a couple really banged up hands and knees. Salt in the winter has a special preserving quality. One of the things I love about Centre Park is that many of us sort of the Fellowship of the Snow Patrol. Someone shovels out here at the church so others of us shovel their house, and random salt dispensing for each other happens. At the same time recently someone proudly cleared all of their snow but did it in a way that buried the cars of elderly neighbors who it turns out have just as many places to go in their cars as wage earners. Not all our collective responses are as life giving as they could be.  And some folk who emerge with a shovel hoping to earn a few dollars, some of whom can barely shovel. But who surmise that unless they have something to offer they have no hope of receiving. Now, these particular concerns were not a reality in Palestine where Jesus lived and preached. There was no such thing as a snow day. But salt and light were obviously important to life enough the Bible mentions them a lot.  

Salt, a simple and common thing has really significant powers. It can preserve things. Meat could be salted and saved for another day’s meal. It makes bread rise. It has abilities to have certain abilities to heal, and to clean. Currently the production of saline solution for surgery is outpaced by demand causing delays in medical procedures.  According to the Salt Institute (yes, there is one), salt helps muscles stay strong, and makes our brains work. And of course, we know that salt can make things taste better.

As important as we find it, salt was so important in Jesus’ day, it was used to pay people. Literally the word “salary” comes from the Latin of when people were paid with salt. The best workers you hired were “worth their salt.” All those people who were sick and downtrodden were not.  Being salt means bringing life and worth.

Light, is another seemingly simple thing. Yet, without it, the earth would be cold and there would be no life. Plants wouldn’t grow. For those of who garden it’s just about time for the “grow lights” to start seedlings. Without light, things would be unclear, there would be no color. Without light people become depressed, and fish in places like the deepest ocean trenches or caves are blind. Without light there is isolation. Think of all the things you cannot do or do well if you don’t have light in which to accomplish them. Cooking, reading, cleaning, the list goes on. And a candle in the window means welcome. Being light means drawing others into growth, and seeing and community.

Salt and light- two things we take for granted much of the time. But two things that when circumstances force us to stop, we see differently. Ask anyone who has endured living without them. These simple things, are just as critical for our existence as they were in Jesus’ day. Both of them are naturally occurring in God’s world. Both thing that when shared, bring life more abundantly.

I think that the fact they occur naturally probably means that God intends that the world share in them. And God’s arrangement is we care for each other, love our neighbor with them so we all share in the blessing of abundant life.

Rather than hiding the light or calculating who is worth their salt.

Jesus takes these notions and turns them upside down.

Aside from all of the other things we can say about salt and light, I am thinking that what I notice is that whenever I shake salt, I only marginally control where it lands, and no matter what we try to do to direct light-particles of it go beyond. We live in a world that so often tries to put salt and light in containers. But if you've ever been longing for life to have flavor or darkness to end, you know that you hope that some falls your way.

Much of our life in our world and sometimes in the church is about structure, but Jesus reminds that our structures should never be the primary thing. We as individuals are vessels as are our ways of being community. But vessels not so much to contain as to distribute. We are called as the Psalmist shares, to not fear bad news so much we fail to be generous or to live with integrity.

Just before today’s gospel Jesus has shared the Beatitudes. Sayings which tell the large crowd gathered there is a word for the poor in spirit, those mourning, who work for peace, who are persecuted. And a message for those who hunger and thirst for God’s people to be people of righteousness. Blessed.

To the thousands who have been drawn out of that hunger and thirst-who long for life, the downtrodden and the weak- Jesus says-“you are to be blessed.” Those who have nothing to add to the equation of worth as the world see it are worth it. You are worth your salt. For many of us this is a word of blessing. We who have gathered this day are blessed. Where have you seen it? Thanks be to our God! If you came here this day looking for salt and light may God bless you through us.

There’s more. Jesus turns to his followers, the blessed and says-“You and you and you- are salt. You are how blessing will be spread. You all are salt for the whole earth. And you are light. You are the answer to those who walk in darkness. Don’t hoard your light. You are light for the whole world.”

Jesus doesn’t say- “you COULD be salt and light.” OR “you should try to be salt and light and see if you like it.” OR "if you try you might be good enough to be salt and light."

You are. Salt and light. Life for the world.

This is righteousness- living as those who are my disciples is this. Scattering life abundant and God revealing community spilling over. So, go be who you are.

Be the answer to the prayers of those who cannot pay, or earn, or contribute. Be the path into wholeness, the preservers of lives. In your saltiness and lightness, others will see the grace of God falling their way. And they will praise the God of salt and light shown through you.

It’s that simple. We have the ability through the Spirit to be salt and light. We don't need to wait for the right moment or other ingredients. Or the right people. We simply are.

And we don’t need to decide who is worth their salt. God’s decided it’s everyone.

Salt and light will happen this day.

Where will you see it? Where will you be it?

May you share in God’s bright and salty day!

 

baptism of our Lord sermon

Today we commemorate the baptism of Jesus by John and the revelation comes forth- this is my beloved son. God’s identity made known and a declaration- he belongs to me. And because of Jesus we too hear those words at our baptism- you are my beloved child.  And the water fills and is emptied. And we are filled with God. We too belong to God. But this belonging at its richest calls us to be emptied, of our egos, and our longings. To be filled with the Spirit and sent forth to be emptied so that God might be revealed. Trusting that the one thing we will never lose is our identity as God’s beloved child. Could we let everything else up to God’s vision? This week I asked people what one thing they would do differently in response to remembering that we belong to God. And the answer that stuck with me was this- I’d listen to my heart where Jesus resides and follow where it leads, no matter how "crazy" it seems. Normally we walk away from “crazy” or at least talk ourselves out of it.  

I know it must have seemed crazy to John. Jennifer Peterson Singh writes, “Frankly I share John’s confusion when I feel God calling me. John’s words “Why have you come to me?” are often mine. I don’t know why God would want me and I don’t know if I even understand what I’m being called to do. Don’t you wish God still gave us a star to follow? Truthfully, she says, I probably need a giant neon sign in the sky.” Because we come to the place where we encounter Jesus and like John we come mostly prepared to think of our own wants, and for God to fill us up to be more the selves we want to be. To fill out the picture think we should see. But Jesus comes in a very different way.  There will be a picture but it’s not the one you think. He will empty himself and then will stand totally in our world with us, to reveal God and to take root in us. And give us the example of what it means to express our identity as beloved and claimed and empowered. As children of God. Loved not for what we have but whose we are.

 

One of 2013’s new movies is “Philomena” based upon the real life story of Philomena Lee. Pregnant as a teenager in Ireland in 1952, Lee was sent to a convent to be looked after as a “fallen woman.” She gave birth to a son. She and other young mothers were forced to work in the convent laundry, seeing their children once a day. But at around age 3, her son was put up for adoption by the nuns and taken away to America. Despite being shamed she held on and she spent the next fifty years searching for son in vain. Then she met a political journalist who happened to be intrigued by her story. Together they set off on a crazy journey to America that would not only reveal the extraordinary story of Philomena’s son, but also create an unexpectedly close bond between them. Two very different people, at different stages of their lives, help each other to tell her son that he was her child and he was loved. The book written was a catalyst for thousands of adopted Irish children and their ‘shamed’ mothers to come forward to tell their stories and encourage the many still searching for their lost families. For 50 years she kept his existence a secret. Because the world’s version of the story was that it should be erased from her heart. But inside she knew she was loved not for what she’d done but whose she was. And that he must know his identity.  

Lee says telling the story is a challenge because she normally led a very quiet family life, but now she's fully aware of the power of her story on film.  And at the heart of it is a message that you are beloved. As timeless as that day Jesus showed up at the Jordan River.

What one thing might you do differently as you remember that you belong to God?  “Listen to my heart where Jesus resides and follow where it leads no matter how “crazy” it seems.” Baptism creates that space where Jesus comes to dwell in our hearts, empowering the new life that is coming to be. To make known that God desires not only to forgive but to transform over and over again. Water is emptied and we are filled with the Holy Spirit and the declaration that we are God's children.

Baptism is a beginning, but being baptized finds its purpose in what follows – emptying ourselves in a calling to God's way of doing things in a world that often resists, but is always changed by those who seek to walk God's path. God sees our hesitance and feelings of confusion or unworthiness, but continues to remind us who we are and empower us for what God wants us to be and to do. That sense of being beloved carries us through confusing times and joyous times, giving hope and fulfilling God’s vision. Not just for doing good and feeling good, but the justice and righteousness God calls us into. Continually transforming us and the world so everyone gets a fair shot. Reorienting us to become involved, to change the processes that keep people trapped on the margins of society. Even when it seems crazy. Because you’re loved not for where you are on the journey but whose you are.

Come to be filled with the Holy Spirit and reminded of Christ within us. Filled for emptying that transformation out upon God’s world. This is celebrating what Jesus first revealed and brought forth and brings forth still. Water and word, filling and emptying. Calling us to let go and be filled. Over and over again. And we never do it alone, Jesus says. Let US do this now to God’s purposes. Things we could never even imagine doing on our own. Emptying, filling, giving ourselves away. Loved not for what we have but whose we are.  Beloved, every day brings something new. And every day is a holy day when we recall Christ’s baptism and our own again. May we be filled again with the desire to be filled by God and God alone, and to walk the disciple's road. AMEN

 

 

 

 

 Suscipe-

Take Lord, and receive all my liberty, my memory,

 my understanding,

 and my entire will --

 all that I have and call my own.

 You have given it

 all to me.

 To you, Lord,

 I return it.

 Everything is yours;

 do with it

 what you will.

 Give me only your love

 and your grace.

 That is enough

 for me.  Ignatius of Loyola

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

But...(reflections for Epiphany)

As often happens with a story we have heard often, we think we know all its features and all its nuances. What’s interesting is that over time we add a lot of lore to this story about the exact whereabouts of these visitors, and their background, their lifestyle, the economic status and we have turned them almost into something that would not at all have fit the narrative of the Gospel of Matthew. These visitors we call kings were not royals. They were not considered wise and learned. We don’t actually really know their names or their reputations. We want them to be high flyers who one up the puny king Herod with real royal swagger. But…

They were different-strangers, foreigners, outsiders. With odd ways and weird customs and after travel may have in fact appeared anything but majestic. Why on earth would God give them a special message or purpose?

 

No one reading or hearing Matthew’s gospel or living in the beginning of Jesus’ earthly ministry would expect these things. And maybe that’s a word for us this day too.

 

Here’s the thing-when we look at what we actually find in the gospel this year I was struck by something that is almost anti-climactic. There in a book I have looked at more times than I can recall by a man who is a scholar on the Gospel of Matthew, there in this story I have heard even more times than that, there is this …

                                                                                                       

“The magi observed what anyone could have observed.” (Warren Carter, Matthew and the Margins )

They noticed.

This is not some angel throng in the sky, or some vision. It’s a star in the sky, brighter than before.  That anyone could observe. Anyone could.

But seemingly, no one else does.                 

They observe it and respond to the light.

They don’t form committees to study it, or teach high minded theories about it. They don't even know it's totality. They do one thing. They look into this star that is a mystery. Anyone could have.

BUT… they are motivated enough to come, to give themselves over to the journey. A people no one would connect to God’s Son, connects.

 

In their culture such a star means something. They are not using insider information, for they are as “outside” as it gets. This star shines not in the center of power, where they first went. It shines in the almost unnoticeable.

But…

Somehow by God's uncommon power in the common world they begin to recognize that this star announces someone new.

 

And so they come. And then God's revealing leads them to discern that they should worship this One. They not only have given their time and energy to this journey. They give things they have brought for this One upon whom the light shines. The gifts they offer though exotic to us were more common than we think. The spices were common to them. And frankly so was the gold. They didn’t bring jewels and treasures uncommon. They gave what they had.

 

When they left, I imagine eyes gleaming and they surely knew more, but still not everything. So much was yet to be revealed. We don’t know much after that except a couple things.

They were told by the powers that be to come back and give a full account. And when you get that kind of directive from a real king and military ruler, you’d think you ought to follow the expectations.

 

BUT… though they could have done what most would do, before returning to business as usual, they were different. Different now.

After they encountered this One, and this light. They gave themselves over to something new- they could have bowed to wishes of one they would have been worldly wise enough to know was not rejoicing at a new king. Anyone could have. 

BUT…they rejoiced and they traveled differently instead.

Encountering the light and the One of whom the star foretold they carried something of that encounter and walked differently.

It almost sounds easy, this walking.

But…it’s not.

Sisters and brothers, still today the light comes. Shining in our world. Still today God enters in ways we can observe. In people and places and events anyone could see, calling us to notice.

But…perhaps by looking for the grand, we overlook the simple yet powerful witness -That the Christ has come-The light shines. To lead us to give ourselves over to the new and joyful possible before us. Leading us to walk differently and shine as ones who have been touched by this light. Because in Christ we can.

 of Form

I close with words of Walter Brueggeman written for this day:

We are still the people walking.

We are still people in the dark,

and the darkness looms large around us,

beset as we are by fear,

 anxiety,

 brutality,

 violence,

 loss —

a dozen alienations that we cannot manage.

 

We are — we could be — people of your light.

 So we pray for the light of your glorious presence

 as we wait for your appearing;

 we pray for the light of your wondrous grace

 as we exhaust our coping capacity;

 we pray for your gift of newness that

 will override our weariness;

 we pray that we may see and know and hear and trust

 in your good rule.

 

That we may have energy, courage, and freedom to enact

 your rule through the demands of this day.

 

 We submit our day to you and to your rule, with deep joy and high hope.   AMEN

Where We See Exit, God Enters

“If you think God does that, get out!”  That seems to be the theme of most of the talking heads on TV and the internet- there’s the War on Christmas, arguments over whether Jesus must be white, and the recent words now under attack by one of the personalities from Duck Dynasty about who God is rejecting. I suspect people have spent more time analyzing all of these words than any actual words from Scripture. Everyone poised to win the argument. At the same time this week as the frenzy over who won Powerball began, everyone in our national media began to obsess about what it took to win.  At one point, a reporter, who had nothing concrete to say blurted out-“This is what the winning ticket looks like!” And he held up a generic lottery ticket. As though by seeing that ticket people could be believe there was a winner. Like it was a sign. That in the midst of statistical improbability, we’d get a piece of something that made those words be real. Show us something that will help us believe what seems impossible- what winning looks like. And so I kind of wonder in such as world as ours, what people would make of the family tree of Jesus in the Gospel of Matthew that is made up of prostitutes and drunkards and lots of other people many would call offensive or even losers. Come to the adult discussion class to hear more. Not to mention the scandal surrounding Joseph and Mary. Today we hear about God’s improbability in the face of our certainty.  Where we see EXIT, God enters to be GOD WITH US and show what winning really looks like.

In Isaiah, for instance, we see Ahaz, King of Jerusalem meeting the prophet. Syria and Israel have come to attack Jerusalem. Ahaz is certain this attack will end badly, probably pondering an exit strategy. Isaiah instead says-though odds look pretty overwhelming, this will end and your world will not fall. The end of your distress will happen soon.  Because Emmanuel comes. Emmanuel- GOD WITH US- in this and where you see fear and war, there will be peace. I would want a sign. What’s amazing is Ahaz should ask for a sign- that’s what you do with a prophet. But he does not. And by not asking it seems that Isaiah wonders if Ahaz really believes what God will do.

I can’t decide whether Ahaz can’t see beyond himself or whether he knew he might ask for the wrong sign. Because when you’re under attack what you want is a fellow warrior, power in the form of some kind of weaponized sidekick. And time would pass in a nanosecond. God will use a baby? And it will be awhile? That’s your idea?

When you’re in the middle of conflict, you want it to end. You want to know where you stand. It was so unimaginable.  Even though Ahaz is skeptical, God determines to give a sign and to act. And the promise came true for Ahaz. Even though he fumbled with how to receive it. Where Ahaz saw EXIT, God entered to be GOD WITH US and show what winning really looks like. Then, Isaiah’s words became words so powerful, people believed they could come true again. They wrote them down and held onto them. Because however improbable, they might not just be once and done. And God’s story went on.

Fast forward to Joseph and Mary. Today’s reality TV has nothing on the back story of the birth of Christ. In Matthew, it’s not all graceful pondering-it’s fear and drama. Because Mary is pregnant, and the scandal is deep and her alibi is shaky. As we glimpse Joseph behind the scenes it isn’t pretty. He isn’t looking for a sign, unless it says “Exit.” He’s trying to take charge and manage his righteous image. And frankly anything other than getting out means he has to live in this dysfunctional life. But where Joseph sees EXIT God entered to show what GOD WITH US looks like. Where you see confusion and pain, there will be love and healing. What seems impossible is not. Signs and wonders even though Joseph fumbled with how to receive the power and presence of God. And God’s story went on.

And so too for us. “The Lord God will give you a sign” are words still for us- even when we give up looking for any signs beyond those we can make ourselves. When we wait for a Warrior God to fix our world full of people who we’re sure are wrong or who need to be defeated. GOD WITH US in all the places we fall into the trap of believing God should be like us, only bigger. And in the times we envision God as vengeful in a world obsessed with getting even. Where we point to the EXIT sign, God enters with the still unexpected vision of winning. God enters to be God WITH US.

This is the sign- A baby born to the scared and confused, in a messed up and fighting world. To people who continue to fumble the God we receive. Jesus, Emmanuel enters still to remind us that in all our fears, longings and needs, God’s love wins.And these words live. This is the sign.

One writer says, “Unless we see the sign of the child it is all too easy to turn “Immanuel, God-with-us” into a call to defeat our enemies.  God’s sign of a child surprised a king and an unwed father named Joseph. This sign matters in a world that continues to worship a vengeful God who can crush our enemies. Seeing the child as sign of God-with-us paints a different picture, (one our world needs far more than our battle to be right): The Word comes as a child who can be received and cannot hurt us; a Word that does not make us afraid. What is so amazing is that when God does come among us, whatever God’s hurt or indignation, God comes not with violence, but as a child, vulnerable to our further hurt that we might receive rather than fear him.”  It’s an odd way of winning, but it is salvation for all of us. On this last Sunday of Advent, as we ponder the improbable reality of Emmanuel, Jesus born to save all people and to be God with Us, I share with you these words Barbara Lundblad used to write a new verse of “O Come, O Come, Immanuel” :

O come, dear child of Mary, come,

God’s Word made flesh within our earthly home;

Love stir within the womb of night,

Revenge and hatred put to flight.

Rejoice, rejoice! Take heart and do not fear,

God’s chosen one, Immanuel, draws near.