(Scriptures: Genesis 1:1-5, Acts 19:1-7, Mark 1:4-11)
This Sunday, after detours into the Gospels of Luke and Matthew, we return to Mark’s Gospel, where we will spend much of the coming year. Mark’s Gospel is thought to have been the first of the four Gospels to have been written, from which Matthew and Luke drew much of their material. Mark’s is a fast-moving Gospel, portraying Jesus as a man of action. English translations smooth out the language, but the original Greek reads like a story told by an excited child: Jesus did this, and right away Jesus did that, and then right away Jesus said this, and then right away Jesus said that. The Greek phrase “kai euthus” – “and immediately” or “and right away” – occurs over and over. Mark’s Gospel catches the spirit of what it must have felt like to have been a disciple of Jesus, to be have been caught up among those who followed Jesus during his earthly ministry – Jesus does and says one amazing thing after another, and as the readers of Mark’s Gospel, we stand by watching, with our mouths hanging open in amazement.
Today’s reading is no exception. For one thing, we’ve fast-forwarded from the time of Jesus’ birth until Jesus was about 30 years old. We begin by meeting John the Baptist in the wilderness, that strange character who dressed in camel’s hair with a leather belt and eating locusts – bugs – and wild honey. His appearance brings up historic memories for his listeners. If we were to see someone at Independence Hall dressed in a colonial costume reading from parchment, we would be reminded of the American revolution – and in the same way, John’s dress reminds the crowds of Elijah. Luke’s Gospel tells us that John’s father was a priest at the Temple in Jerusalem, but John is out in the wilderness, far away from the religious establishment of the day, indeed, offering an alternative to the religious establishment – and at the Jordan River, where Joshua long ago had led the Hebrews from the wilderness through the Jordan and into the promised land, into the land of freedom. Mark’s Gospel tells us that crowds of people from the countryside and even from Jerusalem were coming out to see John, to confess their sins and be baptized by John. Mark gives us a picture of a people who are spiritually hungry, who are not being fed spiritually by the rituals of the Temple and the teaching of the established religious leaders, who are willing to travel long distances on foot and far out of their comfort zone in the chance that John will give them something, anything to hold on to.
We think of baptism primarily as a Christian ritual, but Christian baptism had its origin in the Jewish mikveh, a ritual bath. Jews took such a ritual bath as a rite of purification after some event had occurred to make them ritually impure. Orthodox and Conservative Jews continue the practice to this day, the Orthodox Jews so much so that a newly-gathered community is instructed to build a mikveh for the ritual bath before building the synagogue. So John’s baptism would have been like a washing from sin, a fresh start. The mikveh or ritual bath was also a rite of conversion, by which Gentiles were purified before joining the Jewish community. What is striking is that those coming to be baptized by John were already Jews – but the unsatisfying practices of the religious establishment left them feeling defiled and alienated from God. John’s baptism offered a radical way to re-connect to their faith.
So Mark sets the stage – John out in the wilderness leading a renewal movement which attracted Jews from all over. And John says that he is only preparing the way for the coming of one who will be greater than John. John says that he is not worthy to tie this person’s shoelaces. In other words, John tells his followers, “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”
And then along comes Jesus. John baptizes him – this would have been full immersion baptism, Jesus down in the muddy water of the Jordan - and Jesus sees the heavens torn open – the sense of this is that the heavens were in some way ripped apart - and the Holy Spirit coming down like a dove. He hears a voice from heaven, “This is my beloved Son, with whom I am well-pleased.”
This is a turning point in Jesus’ life. The other Gospels tell us that up until this point, he was the carpenter’s son, not seen by most people as anyone special. Those in Jesus’ hometown assumed he would grow up and take over his father’s business and that would be that. But Jesus, following the leading of the Spirit, makes the long journey on foot out into the wilderness to see John the Baptist. With his baptism, Jesus’ life goes off in a radically new direction. Although we won’t read about it until we begin Lent, we know that after Jesus baptism he was tested in the wilderness, and after John was arrested, began to proclaim the coming of the Reign of God. At Jesus’ baptism, the heavens were ripped apart, and God broke into the moment. Jesus’ miracles, healings, teaching were all ways in which Jesus not only proclaimed the Reign of God, but demonstrated God breaking in to take on the powers of evil.
What sustained Jesus through all that he faced throughout his life – testing in the wilderness, the exhaustion that came with ministering to the crowds, the frustration of dealing with his disciples, the emotional stress of confrontation and opposition from the religious establishment? What kept him from crashing and burning? We know that he spent frequent time in prayer, often going off alone to pray. But perhaps part of what kept him going was this moment of baptism, this moment of seeing the heavens ripped apart, of being equipped with the gift of the Holy Spirit, of hearing the voice of God name him as God’s beloved Son. While many of us were baptized as infants and may not remember our baptism, we too can be sustained by the knowledge that, in baptism, God has claimed each of us and called each of us beloved daughters and sons. In words from the funeral service, we remember that we are baptized into Christ’s death so that just as we share a death like Christ’s, we will also share a resurrection like Christ’s. Just as Jesus was equipped at his baptism with the Holy Spirit, so those being baptized are told, “receive the Holy Spirit, child of God, disciple of Christ, member of Christ’s church.”
Like Jesus, we may experience grief, anger, frustration, loneliness. Like Jesus on the cross, there are those moments when we feel so overwhelmed that we say, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me.” In those moments, our baptism reminds us that God will never abandon us. The words of the old Heidelberg Catechism that our older members grew up with, we’re told that our only comfort, in life and in death, is that we belong, body and soul, in life and in death, not to ourselves, but to our faithful Savior, Jesus Christ - who through the waters of baptism has claimed us for his very own.
Showing posts with label John the Baptist. Show all posts
Showing posts with label John the Baptist. Show all posts
Sunday, January 22, 2012
Sunday, December 4, 2011
Prepare the Way
(Scriptures: Isaiah 61:1-11, 2 Peter 3:8-15a, Mark 1:1-8)
Since early October, we’ve been reading and watching on TV the “Occupy” movement – first “Occupy Wall Street” and then Occupy Oakland, Portland, and, more locally, Occupy Philadelphia, which until Tuesday last week was situated at City Hall. A nucleus of Occupiers – somewhere upwards of 100 tents at any given time – were camped out 24/7 in tents on Dilworth Plaza, outside City Hall. Around this nucleus, a larger and incredibly eclectic assortment of activists – students, environmental activists, anarchists, Quaker and interfaith peace activists, clergy, labor union leaders, assorted other groups such as the “Granny Peace Brigade” – came and went as family schedules and day jobs permitted. There were also many homeless persons, who slept on Dilworth Plaza outside City Hall most nights. While these homeless were perplexed to see so many new neighbors on their doorstep, they were also grateful for the meals that the Occupy group served, over 1000 meals a day. The news media covering the Occupy movement were frustrated, first, that the Occupiers didn’t have a single leader – with their very participatory form of organization, all however many hundred people at Dilworth Plaza, everyone there, were potential leaders – nor did they have a tidy list of demands, beyond an overall message that the wealthiest 1% of Americans are causing financial hardship, political disenfranchisement, and environmental devastation for the remaining 99% of Americans, and indeed, for the rest of the world. Put simply, those at Dilworth Plaza were and are sick and tired of being sick and tired. On Tuesday last week, the police cleared Dilworth Plaza, but while the tents are gone, the feeling of being sick and tired of being sick and tired remains. As one of the signs at the Occupy camp said, “You can’t evict an idea.”
Today’s reading from Mark’s Gospel beings with the words, “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.” Mark’s is thought by Bible scholars to have been the first of the four Gospels to be written, to which Matthew and Luke added additional material and of which the writer of John’s Gospel was at least aware. To Mark’s material, Matthew and Luke added, among other information, the birth narratives – the announcement of the angel to Mary and Joseph, the shepherds, the manger, the wise men. John’s Gospel begins with a cosmic portrait of Christ as the pre-existing Word who was with God and who was God from the beginning, now become flesh in Jesus of Nazareth. But Mark’s Gospel has none of that. Mark begins with a quotation from Isaiah – with some additional material from Micah included – about a messenger preparing the way, and the voice of one crying in the wilderness, ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight!’ And with that very brief introduction, we meet John the Baptist out in the wilderness. We’re told that people from the whole Judean countryside and even from Jerusalem were going out to John, to be baptized in the river Jordan as a sign of repentance. It almost sounds a little like John the Baptist had his own “Occupy the Jordan River” movement going on. Certainly with the description of his being clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt, eating locusts and wild honey, he’d have fit in just fine with the scruffy crowd in Dilworth Plaza – though the description is intended to remind us of Elijah, whom the prophet Micah said would announce the coming of the Messiah.
We may wonder why so many went out to the wilderness to be baptized by John. After all, it isn’t like everyone could just hop in their SUV or even carpool out to the Jordan. SEPTA and Amtrak didn’t go there. It was a long, uncomfortable walk or donkey ride from Jerusalem and the countryside to the wilderness, a major investment of time, a major investment of effort, to go out into the wilderness, where there were no creature comforts, no turnpike service plazas or vending machines, not even a porta-potty, nothing at the end of their long walk but John and the Jordan River.
Why did they go? We’re told they came to be baptized as a sign of repentance. Over 2000 years, we’ve layered a lot of religious glop on the word repentance, but at its core, repentance means a change of mind, a change of consciousness, a change of direction. It’s a recognition that the status quo isn’t working, that change is needed, and a resolve to stop doing what isn’t working in order to do something that will work, or at least that might work. For John’s followers, similar to the current Occupy folk, the status quo that needed to change was both personal and societal. After all, if going to the Temple and performing the prescribed sacrifices and rituals – or going to the local synagogue to hear the reading and exposition of Torah – had been sufficient, they wouldn’t have slogged out to the desert. If they had been living comfortably under Rome’s occupation of Judea, they wouldn’t have slogged out to the desert. But, in fact, none of these things were working. The Roman occupation was messed up, the religious establishment was messed up, and they themselves were messed up. The crowds had no grand social vision, and really neither did John. They just knew that both they and their society were broken, that they were sick and tired of being sick and tired, that they needed God to intervene in a deep way in their lives and in society. And John was very clear that he was the messenger, not the Messiah. It was not for John to save the people or their society; he could only point the way to the One who would.
Today’s reading from Mark reminds us that the Good News of Jesus may begin with the bad news that the status quo isn’t working, that change is needed, specifically, that we – you, me, each of us, all of us - need to change direction. As Jesus said elsewhere in the Gospels, it is those who are sick who need a doctor, not those who are well. Our reading from Isaiah brings a message that would resonate powerfully with the Occupy folks at Dilworth Plaza, and no doubt resonated with John’s followers: “Bring good news to the oppressed, bind up the brokenhearted, proclaim liberty to the captives and release to the prisoners, proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” It’s a message of radical change, radical personal change and radical social change. It was not for John to bring all this about himself, but to point to Jesus, the One anointed by God to do all these things – remember that in Luke’s Gospel, Jesus chose this very Isaiah text for his very first sermon. Like the 1% who hold great power in our day, the powerful of Jesus day were offended at this text, and in fact tried to throw him off a cliff. But for those who were oppressed, brokenhearted, and captive to the powers and principalities, in Jesus’ day and in ours, Jesus’ words were life-changing, like rivers of water in the desert.
The Occupy folks at Dilworth Plaza were there to point to the need for change. John was out in the desert, to point to the need for change. And we as followers of Jesus are likewise called to point to the need for change, and to point to Jesus as the one who makes change possible, to point to Jesus as the one whose birth and life, death and resurrection have brought in God’s reign. We can point to Jesus by telling our neighbors about Jesus, by inviting them to church. We can also point to Jesus in our lives, by modeling a way of life that’s different, by living in a way that says that Jesus, not the almighty dollar, reigns. We do that by raising money for the food cupboard and for the ministries of the Pennsylvania Southeast Conference. We do that by providing safe space for parents to raise their children. We do that by providing a place where hurting people can come for prayer, and coffee and cake, and a kind word.
“Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight,” said John the Baptist. In these remaining weeks of Advent, may we at Emanuel Church prepare ourselves and help to prepare our world for the coming of the Christ child. Let every heart prepare him room. Amen.
Since early October, we’ve been reading and watching on TV the “Occupy” movement – first “Occupy Wall Street” and then Occupy Oakland, Portland, and, more locally, Occupy Philadelphia, which until Tuesday last week was situated at City Hall. A nucleus of Occupiers – somewhere upwards of 100 tents at any given time – were camped out 24/7 in tents on Dilworth Plaza, outside City Hall. Around this nucleus, a larger and incredibly eclectic assortment of activists – students, environmental activists, anarchists, Quaker and interfaith peace activists, clergy, labor union leaders, assorted other groups such as the “Granny Peace Brigade” – came and went as family schedules and day jobs permitted. There were also many homeless persons, who slept on Dilworth Plaza outside City Hall most nights. While these homeless were perplexed to see so many new neighbors on their doorstep, they were also grateful for the meals that the Occupy group served, over 1000 meals a day. The news media covering the Occupy movement were frustrated, first, that the Occupiers didn’t have a single leader – with their very participatory form of organization, all however many hundred people at Dilworth Plaza, everyone there, were potential leaders – nor did they have a tidy list of demands, beyond an overall message that the wealthiest 1% of Americans are causing financial hardship, political disenfranchisement, and environmental devastation for the remaining 99% of Americans, and indeed, for the rest of the world. Put simply, those at Dilworth Plaza were and are sick and tired of being sick and tired. On Tuesday last week, the police cleared Dilworth Plaza, but while the tents are gone, the feeling of being sick and tired of being sick and tired remains. As one of the signs at the Occupy camp said, “You can’t evict an idea.”
Today’s reading from Mark’s Gospel beings with the words, “The beginning of the good news of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.” Mark’s is thought by Bible scholars to have been the first of the four Gospels to be written, to which Matthew and Luke added additional material and of which the writer of John’s Gospel was at least aware. To Mark’s material, Matthew and Luke added, among other information, the birth narratives – the announcement of the angel to Mary and Joseph, the shepherds, the manger, the wise men. John’s Gospel begins with a cosmic portrait of Christ as the pre-existing Word who was with God and who was God from the beginning, now become flesh in Jesus of Nazareth. But Mark’s Gospel has none of that. Mark begins with a quotation from Isaiah – with some additional material from Micah included – about a messenger preparing the way, and the voice of one crying in the wilderness, ‘Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight!’ And with that very brief introduction, we meet John the Baptist out in the wilderness. We’re told that people from the whole Judean countryside and even from Jerusalem were going out to John, to be baptized in the river Jordan as a sign of repentance. It almost sounds a little like John the Baptist had his own “Occupy the Jordan River” movement going on. Certainly with the description of his being clothed with camel’s hair, with a leather belt, eating locusts and wild honey, he’d have fit in just fine with the scruffy crowd in Dilworth Plaza – though the description is intended to remind us of Elijah, whom the prophet Micah said would announce the coming of the Messiah.
We may wonder why so many went out to the wilderness to be baptized by John. After all, it isn’t like everyone could just hop in their SUV or even carpool out to the Jordan. SEPTA and Amtrak didn’t go there. It was a long, uncomfortable walk or donkey ride from Jerusalem and the countryside to the wilderness, a major investment of time, a major investment of effort, to go out into the wilderness, where there were no creature comforts, no turnpike service plazas or vending machines, not even a porta-potty, nothing at the end of their long walk but John and the Jordan River.
Why did they go? We’re told they came to be baptized as a sign of repentance. Over 2000 years, we’ve layered a lot of religious glop on the word repentance, but at its core, repentance means a change of mind, a change of consciousness, a change of direction. It’s a recognition that the status quo isn’t working, that change is needed, and a resolve to stop doing what isn’t working in order to do something that will work, or at least that might work. For John’s followers, similar to the current Occupy folk, the status quo that needed to change was both personal and societal. After all, if going to the Temple and performing the prescribed sacrifices and rituals – or going to the local synagogue to hear the reading and exposition of Torah – had been sufficient, they wouldn’t have slogged out to the desert. If they had been living comfortably under Rome’s occupation of Judea, they wouldn’t have slogged out to the desert. But, in fact, none of these things were working. The Roman occupation was messed up, the religious establishment was messed up, and they themselves were messed up. The crowds had no grand social vision, and really neither did John. They just knew that both they and their society were broken, that they were sick and tired of being sick and tired, that they needed God to intervene in a deep way in their lives and in society. And John was very clear that he was the messenger, not the Messiah. It was not for John to save the people or their society; he could only point the way to the One who would.
Today’s reading from Mark reminds us that the Good News of Jesus may begin with the bad news that the status quo isn’t working, that change is needed, specifically, that we – you, me, each of us, all of us - need to change direction. As Jesus said elsewhere in the Gospels, it is those who are sick who need a doctor, not those who are well. Our reading from Isaiah brings a message that would resonate powerfully with the Occupy folks at Dilworth Plaza, and no doubt resonated with John’s followers: “Bring good news to the oppressed, bind up the brokenhearted, proclaim liberty to the captives and release to the prisoners, proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” It’s a message of radical change, radical personal change and radical social change. It was not for John to bring all this about himself, but to point to Jesus, the One anointed by God to do all these things – remember that in Luke’s Gospel, Jesus chose this very Isaiah text for his very first sermon. Like the 1% who hold great power in our day, the powerful of Jesus day were offended at this text, and in fact tried to throw him off a cliff. But for those who were oppressed, brokenhearted, and captive to the powers and principalities, in Jesus’ day and in ours, Jesus’ words were life-changing, like rivers of water in the desert.
The Occupy folks at Dilworth Plaza were there to point to the need for change. John was out in the desert, to point to the need for change. And we as followers of Jesus are likewise called to point to the need for change, and to point to Jesus as the one who makes change possible, to point to Jesus as the one whose birth and life, death and resurrection have brought in God’s reign. We can point to Jesus by telling our neighbors about Jesus, by inviting them to church. We can also point to Jesus in our lives, by modeling a way of life that’s different, by living in a way that says that Jesus, not the almighty dollar, reigns. We do that by raising money for the food cupboard and for the ministries of the Pennsylvania Southeast Conference. We do that by providing safe space for parents to raise their children. We do that by providing a place where hurting people can come for prayer, and coffee and cake, and a kind word.
“Prepare the way of the Lord, make his paths straight,” said John the Baptist. In these remaining weeks of Advent, may we at Emanuel Church prepare ourselves and help to prepare our world for the coming of the Christ child. Let every heart prepare him room. Amen.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
A Divine Encounter (Transfiguration Sunday sermon)
(Scriptures: Exodus 24:12-18, Psalm 99, 2 Peter 1:16-21, Matthew 17:1-9
Today is the first Sunday in March. This year, it is also the last Sunday in Epiphany, the season of the church calendar that celebrates the revelation of Jesus to the world. Later this week will be Ash Wednesday – which will be celebrated at Bridesburg Methodist, as in past years – and next Sunday will be the first Sunday in Lent. On this last Sunday in Epiphany, it is appropriate that the Gospel reading describes the Transfiguration, in which Jesus revealed himself in a special way to three of his disciples, Peter, James and John.
Matthew’s Gospel is thought to have been written to an early Christian community comprised mostly, though not entirely, of Jewish converts to the way of Jesus. Matthew brings out many parallels between the Transfiguration of Jesus and the giving of the law to Moses. Both the giving of the law to Moses and the transfiguration of Jesus occur on mountains, which because of their height were considered especially close to heaven and were therefore thought to be places in which encounters with the Holy were especially likely to occur – similar to what the Irish have called “thin places,” places where the barrier between earth and heaven became almost translucent, and one could almost see from one side to the other. Six days Moses stayed on the mountaintop, enveloped by the glory of God appearing as a cloud, before Moses received the law; six days after revealing to his disciples that he would be killed in Jerusalem, Jesus invited Peter, James, and John to hike with him up the mountain, where Jesus then appeared before them transfigured, appeared to them in a glory that had not previously been apparent. God spoke to Moses out of the cloud of glory; Jesus spoke with Moses – representing the law – and Elijah – representing the prophets – on the mountain of transfiguration. Of course, the disciples are beside themselves with joy and with awe; Peter, supposing that this sort of summit meeting between Jesus, Moses, and Elijah might go on for a while, maybe even overnight, offers to build huts for each of them to live in. And then, as if seeing Jesus talking with Moses and Elijah weren’t enough, the three disciples hear God’s voice booming at them out of a cloud, in words that remind us of the voice heard at Jesus’ baptism: “This is my Son, the beloved, with him I am well-pleased; listen to Him.” Joy becomes terror, and they hit the deck, falling face down on the ground. Then the vision vanishes, and Jesus gently reaches out to touch them on the shoulder, saying, “Get up and do not be afraid.”
What are we to make of this? At first glance, we may think the entire account is beyond our experience. And yet, I think we’ve all had experiences in which we learn something we didn’t know previously about someone long familiar to us – perhaps a parent or a spouse or a lifelong friend - that helps us see that familiar person in a whole new way. For example, perhaps growing up, we asked our dad about some military medals we found tucked away in the back of a drawer, and out came stories dad’s military heroism, long years before we were born, that give us new respect for our dad. Or maybe one night over the dinner table, Mom reminisced about how she’d worked night shift in a factory to support dad through school, and we saw a side of Mom’s character that we hadn’t seen before.
And so one part of the Transfiguration account was that Jesus gave to Peter, James and John, the three disciples to whom Jesus was closest, a special revelation of His character – that, indeed, Jesus was a teacher and a healer, but not only that, that Jesus was the beloved of God, was himself God, in dialogue with Moses and Elijah, the law and the prophets. Throughout the Old Testament, direct encounters with God are under normal circumstances too much for frail human beings to handle; for example, when God gave the law to Moses, the people told Moses, “You speak to us, and we’ll listen, but do not let God speak to us, or we’ll die.” And so normally God’s glory is hidden from us. But for his closest followers, on this one occasion, Jesus pulled back the veil just a bit, gave them just a glimpse of the glory of God that was always with Jesus – glory that was always there - but under normal circumstances was hidden from their sight.
Why did Jesus give this vision to his three closest disciples? Was it just a moment of indulgence, a chance to show off a bit? Or was something deeper going on? Remember the context of the account – six days before the Transfiguration, Jesus had begun to tell his disciples that he was going to Jerusalem, where he would be put to death. And so this special vision was granted to the inner circle of his disciples to prepare them for what was to come – the journey to Jerusalem, opposition from both the Temple religious establishment and the Roman establishment, his arrest and execution on the cross.
Again, this account of the Transfiguration may seem outside our experience, something that is perhaps interesting to read, but disconnected from our lives. And yet, as we prepare for the upcoming season of Lent, when spiritually for 40 days we walk alongside Jesus on his journey to the cross, let us consider the ways in which we encounter God’s presence in our own lives. We may feel God’s presence when we come to church and, as we sing a beloved hymn or lift up the needs of our neighbors in prayer, we may hear God’s still small voice within our hearts, or feel the touch of God’s hand brush against us. During a difficult period in my early teens, the ringing of the bells of my hometown church, as the carillon rang out hymns at noon, 3pm and 6 pm every day, the sound of the bells played familiar hymns as I walked home from school and I remembered the words of the hymn, “help of the helpless, O abide with me....” at a time when I was feeling very helpless indeed, to me was like God’s voice, telling me that God had not forgotten me, that God was going to carry me through….and so when I preached at Emanuel for the first time back in November 2007, as nervous and awkward as I was, tripping over steps and stumbling over words, as church bell was rung before service, you can imagine that the sound of the bell brought back reassuring memories to me from years past – God is here, too. We may feel God’s presence as we read a passage of Scripture and something jumps out at us that we hadn’t seen before. We may feel God’s presence as we read a prayer or a Psalm or sing a hymn that was a favorite of our mother or father. We may feel God’s presence in a brilliant sunrise or sunset, or, in the words of the old hymn, “in the rustling grass I hear him pass, He speaks to me everywhere.” We may encounter God’s presence, that of God, in each other and in our neighbors, if we have eyes to see. As Christian writer C. S. Lewis wrote,
“There are no ordinary people. You have never met a mere mortal… It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare.”
We also experience God’s presence in the sacraments. Through the waters of baptism, God claims us for God’s own, as we or our parents on our behalf promise to walk in God’s ways, and the church promises to support that lifelong walk with God. And in a few moments, we’ll have the privilege to encounter the presence of Christ in the elements of Communion, as we remember the body of Christ, broken for us, and the blood of Christ, poured out for our salvation. May God’s presence strengthen us for the 40 days of Lent, and may God’s presence be with us and go with us wherever our lives may take us. Amen.
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Please join us for worship Sundays at 10 a.m. at Emanuel United Church of Christ. We're on Fillmore St off Thompson in Philadelphia's Bridesburg section. www.emanuelphila.org
Today is the first Sunday in March. This year, it is also the last Sunday in Epiphany, the season of the church calendar that celebrates the revelation of Jesus to the world. Later this week will be Ash Wednesday – which will be celebrated at Bridesburg Methodist, as in past years – and next Sunday will be the first Sunday in Lent. On this last Sunday in Epiphany, it is appropriate that the Gospel reading describes the Transfiguration, in which Jesus revealed himself in a special way to three of his disciples, Peter, James and John.
Matthew’s Gospel is thought to have been written to an early Christian community comprised mostly, though not entirely, of Jewish converts to the way of Jesus. Matthew brings out many parallels between the Transfiguration of Jesus and the giving of the law to Moses. Both the giving of the law to Moses and the transfiguration of Jesus occur on mountains, which because of their height were considered especially close to heaven and were therefore thought to be places in which encounters with the Holy were especially likely to occur – similar to what the Irish have called “thin places,” places where the barrier between earth and heaven became almost translucent, and one could almost see from one side to the other. Six days Moses stayed on the mountaintop, enveloped by the glory of God appearing as a cloud, before Moses received the law; six days after revealing to his disciples that he would be killed in Jerusalem, Jesus invited Peter, James, and John to hike with him up the mountain, where Jesus then appeared before them transfigured, appeared to them in a glory that had not previously been apparent. God spoke to Moses out of the cloud of glory; Jesus spoke with Moses – representing the law – and Elijah – representing the prophets – on the mountain of transfiguration. Of course, the disciples are beside themselves with joy and with awe; Peter, supposing that this sort of summit meeting between Jesus, Moses, and Elijah might go on for a while, maybe even overnight, offers to build huts for each of them to live in. And then, as if seeing Jesus talking with Moses and Elijah weren’t enough, the three disciples hear God’s voice booming at them out of a cloud, in words that remind us of the voice heard at Jesus’ baptism: “This is my Son, the beloved, with him I am well-pleased; listen to Him.” Joy becomes terror, and they hit the deck, falling face down on the ground. Then the vision vanishes, and Jesus gently reaches out to touch them on the shoulder, saying, “Get up and do not be afraid.”
What are we to make of this? At first glance, we may think the entire account is beyond our experience. And yet, I think we’ve all had experiences in which we learn something we didn’t know previously about someone long familiar to us – perhaps a parent or a spouse or a lifelong friend - that helps us see that familiar person in a whole new way. For example, perhaps growing up, we asked our dad about some military medals we found tucked away in the back of a drawer, and out came stories dad’s military heroism, long years before we were born, that give us new respect for our dad. Or maybe one night over the dinner table, Mom reminisced about how she’d worked night shift in a factory to support dad through school, and we saw a side of Mom’s character that we hadn’t seen before.
And so one part of the Transfiguration account was that Jesus gave to Peter, James and John, the three disciples to whom Jesus was closest, a special revelation of His character – that, indeed, Jesus was a teacher and a healer, but not only that, that Jesus was the beloved of God, was himself God, in dialogue with Moses and Elijah, the law and the prophets. Throughout the Old Testament, direct encounters with God are under normal circumstances too much for frail human beings to handle; for example, when God gave the law to Moses, the people told Moses, “You speak to us, and we’ll listen, but do not let God speak to us, or we’ll die.” And so normally God’s glory is hidden from us. But for his closest followers, on this one occasion, Jesus pulled back the veil just a bit, gave them just a glimpse of the glory of God that was always with Jesus – glory that was always there - but under normal circumstances was hidden from their sight.
Why did Jesus give this vision to his three closest disciples? Was it just a moment of indulgence, a chance to show off a bit? Or was something deeper going on? Remember the context of the account – six days before the Transfiguration, Jesus had begun to tell his disciples that he was going to Jerusalem, where he would be put to death. And so this special vision was granted to the inner circle of his disciples to prepare them for what was to come – the journey to Jerusalem, opposition from both the Temple religious establishment and the Roman establishment, his arrest and execution on the cross.
Again, this account of the Transfiguration may seem outside our experience, something that is perhaps interesting to read, but disconnected from our lives. And yet, as we prepare for the upcoming season of Lent, when spiritually for 40 days we walk alongside Jesus on his journey to the cross, let us consider the ways in which we encounter God’s presence in our own lives. We may feel God’s presence when we come to church and, as we sing a beloved hymn or lift up the needs of our neighbors in prayer, we may hear God’s still small voice within our hearts, or feel the touch of God’s hand brush against us. During a difficult period in my early teens, the ringing of the bells of my hometown church, as the carillon rang out hymns at noon, 3pm and 6 pm every day, the sound of the bells played familiar hymns as I walked home from school and I remembered the words of the hymn, “help of the helpless, O abide with me....” at a time when I was feeling very helpless indeed, to me was like God’s voice, telling me that God had not forgotten me, that God was going to carry me through….and so when I preached at Emanuel for the first time back in November 2007, as nervous and awkward as I was, tripping over steps and stumbling over words, as church bell was rung before service, you can imagine that the sound of the bell brought back reassuring memories to me from years past – God is here, too. We may feel God’s presence as we read a passage of Scripture and something jumps out at us that we hadn’t seen before. We may feel God’s presence as we read a prayer or a Psalm or sing a hymn that was a favorite of our mother or father. We may feel God’s presence in a brilliant sunrise or sunset, or, in the words of the old hymn, “in the rustling grass I hear him pass, He speaks to me everywhere.” We may encounter God’s presence, that of God, in each other and in our neighbors, if we have eyes to see. As Christian writer C. S. Lewis wrote,
“There are no ordinary people. You have never met a mere mortal… It is a serious thing to live in a society of possible gods and goddesses, to remember that the dullest and most uninteresting person you talk to may one day be a creature which, if you saw it now, you would be strongly tempted to worship, or else a horror and a corruption such as you now meet, if at all, only in a nightmare.”
We also experience God’s presence in the sacraments. Through the waters of baptism, God claims us for God’s own, as we or our parents on our behalf promise to walk in God’s ways, and the church promises to support that lifelong walk with God. And in a few moments, we’ll have the privilege to encounter the presence of Christ in the elements of Communion, as we remember the body of Christ, broken for us, and the blood of Christ, poured out for our salvation. May God’s presence strengthen us for the 40 days of Lent, and may God’s presence be with us and go with us wherever our lives may take us. Amen.
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Please join us for worship Sundays at 10 a.m. at Emanuel United Church of Christ. We're on Fillmore St off Thompson in Philadelphia's Bridesburg section. www.emanuelphila.org
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Are You The One?
In last week’s Gospel reading, we met for the first time John the Baptist, the wildman in the wilderness, that voice, crying in the wilderness, saying, “Prepare the way of the Lord!” In a few weeks, we’ll read of what happens when Jesus as an adult responds to John’s voice, and comes to be baptized. John is so overawed by meeting Jesus that he says that instead of John baptizing Jesus, Jesus should instead be baptizing him.
In today’s Gospel, we’re given a glimpse of both Jesus and John, maybe a year or two after Jesus was baptized. Time has passed, and both Jesus and John continued their respective ministries. In Matthew we’re told much about Jesus’ teaching ministry, particularly when Matthew gives us Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount. We’re also told early on that Jesus was a powerful healer, and following the Sermon on the Mount we’re given several accounts of healing – Jesus cleansing a leper, Jesus healing Peter’s mother-in-law of a fever, Jesus restoring two demoniacs by casting out the demons, healing a paralytic so that he could stand up and walk, healing two blind men, restores speech to one who was mute, and even raising the daughter of a synagogue leader from the dead. At this point, the crowds following Jesus are so great that Jesus commissions his disciples to heal and to proclaim the good news.
While all this is going on, John the Baptist for the most part drops out of sight. But when we do get a glimpse of John, we get the feeling that John….has mixed feelings about Jesus. John preached about judgment, about the unquenchable fire of God’s wrath against the unfaithful. His message could be summed up in three words: “turn or burn.” John lived an ascetic, bare-bones life, living on locusts and wild honey.
Jesus’ ministry was different from John’s. While John’s preaching was all hellfire and judgment, Jesus spoke of a gracious God who forgave those who repented. While John’s disciples fasted, Jesus and his disciples ate, drank, even partied. When John’s disciples questioned the propriety of Jesus’ disciples feasting while they were fasting, Jesus said that fasting was inappropriate while Jesus was with them, part of the old wineskins that could not hold the new wine of the kingdom of heaven of which Jesus spoke. So John’s disciples and Jesus’ disciples, John’s ministry and Jesus’ ministry, began to part company. In today’s Gospel, John, now in prison because he fell foul of Herod, sends his disciples to Jesus to ask, “Are you the one who is to come, or should we look for another?” John, who earlier in his ministry in holy boldness had publicly compared the Pharisees and Sadducees to a snakepit, was in prison, awaiting execution, and feeling discouraged. John, who earlier in Matthew’s Gospel was in such awe of Jesus that he wanted Jesus to baptize him, now has serious doubts. “Are you the one who is to come, or should we look for another? Jesus, you sure aren’t the kind of Messiah I was expecting. Are you the Messiah, or are you not?” John, who had done so much to prepare the way for Jesus, is now wondering if it had been all for naught. It had to be a painful moment, for John who had baptized and prepared the way for Jesus, and for Jesus himself, whose public ministry began with being baptized by John.
Jesus’ response is interesting. Rather than getting his back up, rather than mounting some lengthy defense of his authority, Jesus prefers to let the fruits of his ministry speak for themselves. “Go and tell John what you see: the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them.” Remember our reading from Isaiah earlier today, about the eyes of the blind being opened and the ears of the deaf unstopped, the lame leaping like a deer, and the tongue of the speechless singing for joy - the very things Isaiah said would happen, Jesus did – and more. Isaiah didn’t say anything about raising the dead, but Jesus did it nonetheless. Jesus went on: “And blessed is anyone who does not take offense at me” – the Greek means literally “blessed is the one who is not made to stumble because of me”.
After John’s disciples return to report Jesus’ words, Jesus goes on to talk about John. And while John had doubts about Jesus, Jesus had no doubts about John. Despite John’s doubts, Jesus proclaims that John is a prophet, and indeed more than a prophet – he is the one preparing the way for Jesus, the Elijah figure that many had looked for. And yet for all this, Jesus has these surprising and poignant words: “the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.” If John was like the prophet Elijah, John was also a bit like Moses, who prepared his followers to enter the promised land, yet who himself could not enter, but could only look at it from a distance. For all his prophetic ministry, John was stuck in old expectations and old practices, and struggled to accept fully that in Jesus, God himself had entered the scene and was doing something radically new.
While I don’t think any of us have been out in the desert eating locusts and wild honey as John did, I suspect that in a sense, we’ve all from time to time been with John in prison, feeling discouraged and having doubts. We’ve sacrificed much – time, energy, material wealth – to follow Jesus. We believed that becoming a disciple of Christ would totally transform our lives – we believed Jesus would save us, save us from our sins and shortcomings in this life, and save us for eternal life in the world to come. We’re on fire for the Lord! We want to see our lives, and the world around us, change – and not some time way out in the distant yonder, either, but right away, today, yesterday even! And yet, life around us goes on as it ever has, same annoyances, same problems, same tragedies. In fact, since we’ve begun following Jesus, maybe instead of getting better, things have actually gotten worse: we’ve lost a job and despair over how we’re going to feed our family, someone we’ve for whom we’ve poured out prayer upon prayer has instead of recovering, gotten sicker, maybe even died. Maybe we’ve prayed for God to help a family member turn their life around, but we see that family member stuck in the same self-destructive behavior. Or maybe our involvement in church has turned family or friends away from us. We invite people to church, and nobody comes. We read about passages like our Isaiah reading today about the wilderness and the dry land becoming glad, the desert rejoicing and blooming – but what we see in front of us and around us looks like the same desert we saw yesterday, the same wilderness we’ve been trudging through for days and weeks and years on end. And we begin to doubt: was committing to following Jesus a mistake? Is what I’m doing a total waste of time? Should I just go back to the life I knew before I met Jesus?
In these moments, let’s remember Jesus’ words for John’s disciples: “Go and tell John what you’ve seen: the blind can see, the deaf hear, and so forth.” In those moments of discouragement, remember what it was that made you follow Jesus in the first place. In those moments of discouragement, remember how God has blessed you along the way. Remember those times when God has used you to bring good news. Scripture tells us that “the word of the Lord will not return void.” Though we may not see the fruit of our efforts, we can have faith that nothing we do for Jesus is wasted. Our reading from the letter of James reminds us that just as farmers have to wait for their seed to bear fruit, so we must be patient, and continue in faith, keeping on keeping on in faith until the coming of the Lord.
A recent personal example: before I began hanging out in Bridesburg, I was a member of a larger United Church of Christ congregation in Center City. Compared to Emanuel, my former congregation was a good bit larger – even on a bad Sunday, they get 100 out to worship - and, unlike here, it was easy for folks to get lost in the crowd. Here at Emanuel, if you’re not here, everyone knows it, and your presence is missed – not to condemn, but just in the sense that we’re a family here at Emanuel, and we feel like we’re not complete when a familiar pew is empty, just like an empty seat at Thanksgiving dinner reminds us that a family member is missing from the table. But in a larger congregation, someone could - and quite a few people did - drop out of sight and it might be months until someone asked, “whatever happened to so and so.” Over and over at board meetings, I used to lament, “we have a big front door” – where people enter – “and we have a big back door” – where people sneak out and leave, never to return. And so one thing I did as one of the elders was to get the attendance records periodically from the secretary, and call or write cards to folks who hadn’t been to church for a while, or to folks I hadn’t seen recently. It was nothing very formal or organized, just something I did on my own in a fairly random, disorganized way. Three times a year – usually a few weeks before Christmas, a few weeks before Easter, and in mid-August, just before school started, I’d go through the attendance records, write out two dozen or so “thinking of you” cards and mail them out. And while every once in a great while someone would come back to church – for a few weeks anyway – the vast majority didn’t. And I got discouraged: “Is what I’m doing a waste of time and stamps? Why am I doing this? I’m beating my head against a wall. Nothing is happening.” But I kept on keeping on over a number of years, until I was called to be pastor here at Emanuel Church.
In mid-November, just about a month ago, I got an email from the pastor of my former congregation. He told me of his recent visit to a shut in member, who had a progressive illness that made it hard for her to get out, and as a result, while she had once been quite active, she had gradually come to church less and less until now she hadn’t been to church in years. The church sends out lots of broadcast emails to the membership, a few every week, and one day she wrote back, saying, “Could someone from the church contact me?” and hit reply. And the pastor went to visit. And as the pastor and this shut-in member talked, she told the pastor, “There was this guy at the church named Dave, and when I started getting sick and couldn’t come to church as often, I used to get cards from him, and he kept me in touch with what was going on at church. And then a few years back, the cards stopped. Whatever happened to him?” Of course, the pastor told the shut-in that I’m now serving a church in Bridesburg. But I felt like this was God telling me that I hadn’t been wasting my time; that all that time God had been using what I did, that for some people, those random cards over the course of the year were one of the threads that helped connect them to the church. And now, in those moments when I get discouraged, I can remember what the pastor of my former congregation told me about that shut-in visit, remember that God who was working at my former congregation is at work here at Emanuel Church, and receive encouragement to keep on going another day.
“Are you the one who is to come,” John’s disciples asked, “or should we wait for someone else?” And Jesus told them to tell John what they saw: the blind seeing, deaf hearing, dead being raised – people being blessed. While we may not feel God’s presence or see God working in exactly the way we expect, nonetheless God is present – God will never leave us nor forsake us. When we’re discouraged, like John’s disciples, we can remember those “God moments” in the past when we’ve felt God especially close. In moments of discouragement, may we remember and give thanks for the blessings we’ve received, and may we remember and give thanks for the ways that God has used us to bless others. Amen.
**************
O come, all ye faithful to Emanuel United Church of Christ on Sundays at 10 a.m. We're on Fillmore Street, just off Thompson. www.emanuelphila.org
In today’s Gospel, we’re given a glimpse of both Jesus and John, maybe a year or two after Jesus was baptized. Time has passed, and both Jesus and John continued their respective ministries. In Matthew we’re told much about Jesus’ teaching ministry, particularly when Matthew gives us Jesus’ Sermon on the Mount. We’re also told early on that Jesus was a powerful healer, and following the Sermon on the Mount we’re given several accounts of healing – Jesus cleansing a leper, Jesus healing Peter’s mother-in-law of a fever, Jesus restoring two demoniacs by casting out the demons, healing a paralytic so that he could stand up and walk, healing two blind men, restores speech to one who was mute, and even raising the daughter of a synagogue leader from the dead. At this point, the crowds following Jesus are so great that Jesus commissions his disciples to heal and to proclaim the good news.
While all this is going on, John the Baptist for the most part drops out of sight. But when we do get a glimpse of John, we get the feeling that John….has mixed feelings about Jesus. John preached about judgment, about the unquenchable fire of God’s wrath against the unfaithful. His message could be summed up in three words: “turn or burn.” John lived an ascetic, bare-bones life, living on locusts and wild honey.
Jesus’ ministry was different from John’s. While John’s preaching was all hellfire and judgment, Jesus spoke of a gracious God who forgave those who repented. While John’s disciples fasted, Jesus and his disciples ate, drank, even partied. When John’s disciples questioned the propriety of Jesus’ disciples feasting while they were fasting, Jesus said that fasting was inappropriate while Jesus was with them, part of the old wineskins that could not hold the new wine of the kingdom of heaven of which Jesus spoke. So John’s disciples and Jesus’ disciples, John’s ministry and Jesus’ ministry, began to part company. In today’s Gospel, John, now in prison because he fell foul of Herod, sends his disciples to Jesus to ask, “Are you the one who is to come, or should we look for another?” John, who earlier in his ministry in holy boldness had publicly compared the Pharisees and Sadducees to a snakepit, was in prison, awaiting execution, and feeling discouraged. John, who earlier in Matthew’s Gospel was in such awe of Jesus that he wanted Jesus to baptize him, now has serious doubts. “Are you the one who is to come, or should we look for another? Jesus, you sure aren’t the kind of Messiah I was expecting. Are you the Messiah, or are you not?” John, who had done so much to prepare the way for Jesus, is now wondering if it had been all for naught. It had to be a painful moment, for John who had baptized and prepared the way for Jesus, and for Jesus himself, whose public ministry began with being baptized by John.
Jesus’ response is interesting. Rather than getting his back up, rather than mounting some lengthy defense of his authority, Jesus prefers to let the fruits of his ministry speak for themselves. “Go and tell John what you see: the blind see, the lame walk, the lepers are cleansed, the deaf hear, the dead are raised, and the poor have good news brought to them.” Remember our reading from Isaiah earlier today, about the eyes of the blind being opened and the ears of the deaf unstopped, the lame leaping like a deer, and the tongue of the speechless singing for joy - the very things Isaiah said would happen, Jesus did – and more. Isaiah didn’t say anything about raising the dead, but Jesus did it nonetheless. Jesus went on: “And blessed is anyone who does not take offense at me” – the Greek means literally “blessed is the one who is not made to stumble because of me”.
After John’s disciples return to report Jesus’ words, Jesus goes on to talk about John. And while John had doubts about Jesus, Jesus had no doubts about John. Despite John’s doubts, Jesus proclaims that John is a prophet, and indeed more than a prophet – he is the one preparing the way for Jesus, the Elijah figure that many had looked for. And yet for all this, Jesus has these surprising and poignant words: “the least in the kingdom of heaven is greater than he.” If John was like the prophet Elijah, John was also a bit like Moses, who prepared his followers to enter the promised land, yet who himself could not enter, but could only look at it from a distance. For all his prophetic ministry, John was stuck in old expectations and old practices, and struggled to accept fully that in Jesus, God himself had entered the scene and was doing something radically new.
While I don’t think any of us have been out in the desert eating locusts and wild honey as John did, I suspect that in a sense, we’ve all from time to time been with John in prison, feeling discouraged and having doubts. We’ve sacrificed much – time, energy, material wealth – to follow Jesus. We believed that becoming a disciple of Christ would totally transform our lives – we believed Jesus would save us, save us from our sins and shortcomings in this life, and save us for eternal life in the world to come. We’re on fire for the Lord! We want to see our lives, and the world around us, change – and not some time way out in the distant yonder, either, but right away, today, yesterday even! And yet, life around us goes on as it ever has, same annoyances, same problems, same tragedies. In fact, since we’ve begun following Jesus, maybe instead of getting better, things have actually gotten worse: we’ve lost a job and despair over how we’re going to feed our family, someone we’ve for whom we’ve poured out prayer upon prayer has instead of recovering, gotten sicker, maybe even died. Maybe we’ve prayed for God to help a family member turn their life around, but we see that family member stuck in the same self-destructive behavior. Or maybe our involvement in church has turned family or friends away from us. We invite people to church, and nobody comes. We read about passages like our Isaiah reading today about the wilderness and the dry land becoming glad, the desert rejoicing and blooming – but what we see in front of us and around us looks like the same desert we saw yesterday, the same wilderness we’ve been trudging through for days and weeks and years on end. And we begin to doubt: was committing to following Jesus a mistake? Is what I’m doing a total waste of time? Should I just go back to the life I knew before I met Jesus?
In these moments, let’s remember Jesus’ words for John’s disciples: “Go and tell John what you’ve seen: the blind can see, the deaf hear, and so forth.” In those moments of discouragement, remember what it was that made you follow Jesus in the first place. In those moments of discouragement, remember how God has blessed you along the way. Remember those times when God has used you to bring good news. Scripture tells us that “the word of the Lord will not return void.” Though we may not see the fruit of our efforts, we can have faith that nothing we do for Jesus is wasted. Our reading from the letter of James reminds us that just as farmers have to wait for their seed to bear fruit, so we must be patient, and continue in faith, keeping on keeping on in faith until the coming of the Lord.
A recent personal example: before I began hanging out in Bridesburg, I was a member of a larger United Church of Christ congregation in Center City. Compared to Emanuel, my former congregation was a good bit larger – even on a bad Sunday, they get 100 out to worship - and, unlike here, it was easy for folks to get lost in the crowd. Here at Emanuel, if you’re not here, everyone knows it, and your presence is missed – not to condemn, but just in the sense that we’re a family here at Emanuel, and we feel like we’re not complete when a familiar pew is empty, just like an empty seat at Thanksgiving dinner reminds us that a family member is missing from the table. But in a larger congregation, someone could - and quite a few people did - drop out of sight and it might be months until someone asked, “whatever happened to so and so.” Over and over at board meetings, I used to lament, “we have a big front door” – where people enter – “and we have a big back door” – where people sneak out and leave, never to return. And so one thing I did as one of the elders was to get the attendance records periodically from the secretary, and call or write cards to folks who hadn’t been to church for a while, or to folks I hadn’t seen recently. It was nothing very formal or organized, just something I did on my own in a fairly random, disorganized way. Three times a year – usually a few weeks before Christmas, a few weeks before Easter, and in mid-August, just before school started, I’d go through the attendance records, write out two dozen or so “thinking of you” cards and mail them out. And while every once in a great while someone would come back to church – for a few weeks anyway – the vast majority didn’t. And I got discouraged: “Is what I’m doing a waste of time and stamps? Why am I doing this? I’m beating my head against a wall. Nothing is happening.” But I kept on keeping on over a number of years, until I was called to be pastor here at Emanuel Church.
In mid-November, just about a month ago, I got an email from the pastor of my former congregation. He told me of his recent visit to a shut in member, who had a progressive illness that made it hard for her to get out, and as a result, while she had once been quite active, she had gradually come to church less and less until now she hadn’t been to church in years. The church sends out lots of broadcast emails to the membership, a few every week, and one day she wrote back, saying, “Could someone from the church contact me?” and hit reply. And the pastor went to visit. And as the pastor and this shut-in member talked, she told the pastor, “There was this guy at the church named Dave, and when I started getting sick and couldn’t come to church as often, I used to get cards from him, and he kept me in touch with what was going on at church. And then a few years back, the cards stopped. Whatever happened to him?” Of course, the pastor told the shut-in that I’m now serving a church in Bridesburg. But I felt like this was God telling me that I hadn’t been wasting my time; that all that time God had been using what I did, that for some people, those random cards over the course of the year were one of the threads that helped connect them to the church. And now, in those moments when I get discouraged, I can remember what the pastor of my former congregation told me about that shut-in visit, remember that God who was working at my former congregation is at work here at Emanuel Church, and receive encouragement to keep on going another day.
“Are you the one who is to come,” John’s disciples asked, “or should we wait for someone else?” And Jesus told them to tell John what they saw: the blind seeing, deaf hearing, dead being raised – people being blessed. While we may not feel God’s presence or see God working in exactly the way we expect, nonetheless God is present – God will never leave us nor forsake us. When we’re discouraged, like John’s disciples, we can remember those “God moments” in the past when we’ve felt God especially close. In moments of discouragement, may we remember and give thanks for the blessings we’ve received, and may we remember and give thanks for the ways that God has used us to bless others. Amen.
**************
O come, all ye faithful to Emanuel United Church of Christ on Sundays at 10 a.m. We're on Fillmore Street, just off Thompson. www.emanuelphila.org
Sunday, December 5, 2010
A Voice In The Wilderness
(Scriptures: Isaiah 11:1-10, Romans 15:4-13, Matthew 3:1-12)
We continue today in the season of Advent. While many of our neighbors are going to the mall and letting their kids sit on Santa’s lap, we in the church are out in the desert with John the Baptist. The contrast couldn’t be more stark. And yet, today we also watched Al walk to the Advent wreath and light the candles of hope and peace – and these themes are picked up in our reading from Isaiah. And so even though John’s words are unlike anything you’ll ever hear from a shopping mall Santa, we can have faith that, ultimately, they are gospel – good news.
Today’s readings give us two powerful, and very different sets of images. The Isaiah reading tells us of a person coming in a spirit of wisdom and understanding, counsel and might, knowledge and fear of the Lord – who is described as a shoot coming out of a stump. This person will bring such incredible peace that even the animal world will no longer be predatory. Even the animals will testify to God’s reign of peace. It’s almost like comparing the images we see on a nature show like Animal Planet – in which bigger animals hunt down and kill smaller animals – into something that looks like an old Disney cartoon, where all the animals live together in harmony. This mighty one to come will look out for the interests of the poor and vulnerable – will judge with equity for the meek of the earth. And then come these beautiful words: “they shall not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain, for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea” And Isaiah’s vision is inclusive – even the nations – the Gentiles - shall inquire of Jesse. This image of the Gentiles coming to Judah to learn of God is echoed repeatedly in our reading from Romans, and we’ll see it again in Matthew’s Gospel. Similarly, last week’s Old Testament reading was also from Isaiah, and also had a theme of peace – it was the passage which prophesied that swords would be beaten into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks; nation would not rise up against nation, neither learn war any more. Isaiah gives us the image of the shoot coming out of a stump – the image is that of a place where there had once been a great tree, which had been cut down. The stump appeared lifeless and dead, beyond hope. The stump represents Judah, currently under attack from the very Gentile nations who will later come to Judah to inquire of God. But then, a shoot starts sprouting – in that stump, there’s still life. Even after a time of calamity and destruction, comes a sprout of hope. And that sprout, that shoot, will bring life, to Jew and Gentile alike.
And then comes that other image – that of John the Baptist, the wildman in the wilderness. We don’t get much background in Matthew’s Gospel, but Luke’s Gospel gives us some back-story – his father, Zechariah, was a priest, of the priestly order of Abijah. An angel proclaimed his birth to Zechariah and his wife Elizabeth, both old and long past the years of childbearing. But while John was born into a priestly family and likely spent at least part of his formative years among his father’s priestly colleagues, by the time we meet him in Matthew, he has long since left behind the world of the Temple, of sacrifice and liturgical ceremony. John is out in the desert, dressed strangely – in fact, with his robe of camel hair and leather belt, his dress evokes the community’s memory of the prophet Elijah. He lives a marginal existence, eating locusts and wild honey - a diet like that of the guy on Survivorman or one of those other wilderness survival shows - telling people they had to repent and get right with God – and people flocked out into the wilderness to hear him.
It’s not hard to imagine what his message sounded like – because we have street preachers right here in Philadelphia. They look funny. Sometimes they smell funny. Their voices grate on our nerves. Usually we try to avoid them. There’s one in particular, who died some years back, that I remember, and maybe you might as well – she was a lady with the sandwich board that used to preach in the area around City Hall some years ago – she had a sing-song, raspy voice, and day after day, fair weather or foul, she proclaimed her message: "Sinner….
Sinner…If you want to see the devil, take a look in the mirror…..” If you were on the El and she walked into your car, you might move to another car. But Matthew’s gospel said that folks went out into the wilderness to hear John the Baptist – his message that they had to change their lives hit home with them. In fact, Matthew goes out of his way to say that the people of Jerusalem, all Judea, and all the region along the Jordan – some of which was Gentile territory – came out to John. In Isaiah we read about the Gentile nations coming to inquire of Jesse, and we see that vision playing out in John’s ministry. John sacrificed much in the way of comfort – plentiful food and comfortable clothing, community life – in order to be faithful to God’s call. In this sacrifice, John’s listeners could see that John’s message had integrity – John not only talked the talk, he walked the walk of faith.
Matthew’s gospel says that Pharisees and Sadducees were coming out to see this wilderness prophet. Remember that the Pharisees and Sadducees didn’t get along – the Pharisees believed in the resurrection while the Sadducees didn’t; the Sadducees were tied into the Temple leadership – John’s father Zechariah likely knew lots of Sadducees - and the Sadducees played politics with Rome while the Pharisees were more for the common people. But, as the saying goes, the enemy of my enemy is my friend – at least for the moment. They were able to put their differences aside for the moment and join together in a temporary, cynical sort of alliance against the threat both groups saw in John. And of course, John sees right through their charade of piety: “You brood of vipers -Who warned you to flee the wrath to come….!” Ouch! But, remember, John had grown up among the Temple establishment, so he likely knew what he was talking about. Heaven knows that in our day, there is no shortage of vipers among the clergy and lay leadership of some churches and even some denominations.
Of course, as Jews, the Sadducees and Pharisees saw themselves as God’s chosen people, while the Gentiles in the surrounding nations were not. The Sadducees and Pharisees thought they would be saved by their family heritage, their status as leaders of God’s chosen people, their membership in a long line of ancestors leading back to Abraham. But John the Baptist bursts their bubble – “Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor.’ ” Last week’s Isaiah reading, as well as this week’s reading from Romans, speak of the Gentiles coming to glorify God’s name – and John the Baptist tells the crowd that God can raise up children for Abraham out of the very stones on the ground, if God so desires. The Sadducees and Pharisees cannot rest on the accomplishments of their ancestors. Their own lives had to be right with God. In a sense, through John, God is telling these religious leaders, “Yes, yes, I know your ancestors well – but their deeds of faith are in the past. So what have you done for me lately?”
John goes on to use even more urgent imagery – “the ax is lying at the root of the trees”. If I’m a tree, one thing I don’t want to see anywhere near me is an ax. If I’m a tree, an ax has the power to turn me from a towering oak into a stump – sort of like the stump in the Isaiah reading. John is giving the Sadducees and Pharisees a stark choice: bear fruit or be cut down. Produce or perish. Grow - or die.
John also uses the image of a winnowing fork. A winnowing fork was used with grain that was newly harvested from the fields. The farmer would use the fork to throw the grain up in the air. The chaff, or husk, of the grain was lighter, and when the grain was thrown up in the air, the breeze would carry it off. The heavier kernel would fall to the floor, and it was those kernels of grain that would be used to bake bread, after the chaff or husks had first been removed.
In the United Church of Christ we rarely hear this sort of stark, “turn or burn” language. It makes us uncomfortable. It reminds of us slick TV evangelists and wild-eyed fundamentalist preachers condemning everyone around them to hell. That’s not who we are in the UCC. So I’d like to follow John’s words in a slightly different direction than what you’ll hear from the TV preachers – though I have no intention of letting anyone off the hook of John’s words.
John’s words are first and foremost motivated by a sense of urgency. He is presented as announcing the coming of “one who is more powerful than I.” The coming of this “more powerful” One will change everything. John wants his listeners to be ready for the coming of this powerful Savior of the World. I can see almost picture John wanting to pick these smug religious leaders off the ground and shake them – “Wake up! Pay attention!”
John knew well the words of Isaiah that we read today – the image of the peaceable kingdom of God, in which justice and peace would be the order of the day. He also saw clearly how things were – and that the status quo of hostility and injustice wasn’t leading toward the vision in Isaiah. John also knew that this “powerful one” who was coming would bring in the Kingdom of God – Isaiah’s peaceable Kingdom – but this would require, not just minor tweaking or tinkering with the status quo, but radical change, gut-level, heart-wrenching change. John’s listeners couldn’t rely on religious ritual – as represented by the Sadducees – or the inherited faith of their ancestors. For them to experience the blessings of the Kingdom, they had to make a personal commitment – and this meant their lives had to change.
Today’s readings offer a very real challenge to us here at Emanuel, but also offer great hope. John’s words remind us that we can’t put our faith entirely in our history and our heritage – as if to say, we’ve always been here, so we’ll always be here. John challenges us – in fact, urgently challenges us - to continue to make a personal and a congregational faith commitment, a commitment that will bear good fruit, both in our individual lives and in the life of our gathered congregation here at Emanuel. We can’t rest on our history. God is always challenging us, as individuals and as a congregation, “So what have you done for me lately?”
The image of the winnowing fork separating wheat from chaff may lead us to think of God separating the good people from the bad people. That is one way to read John’s words. However, I think we’ll acknowledge that most people, likely including all of us here, are a mixed bag, wanting to be faithful to God, but often distracted by other priorities or led by sin into behavior destructive to ourselves or others. And I very much count myself in that description. The line between good and evil is not a line that has perfect people on one side, and perfectly awful people on the other – but rather the line between good and evil runs through every individual human heart, and every congregation. So I see the winnowing fork as a symbol of God’s commitment to work in our lives to clear away the chaff, the distractions, to clear away anything that stands between us – us as individuals and us as a congregation - and God. This is how John’s voice in the wilderness calls us to prepare the way of the Lord – to allow God to remove the chaff of evil and destraction in our lives, to clear away the rocks and fill in the potholes on our life journeys, to allow the Lord to clear the way so that we may walk in fellowship with God.
The great hope in our readings comes from our faith in an awesome God who, even if we are cut down like the stump in the Isaiah reading, can always help us to sink our roots deep into the soil of Christian faith and bring forth a shoot of new life. Or, to use John’s image, we as Gentiles are like those rocks and stones that God can use to produce children for Abraham.
God uses our individual acts of faith, hope and charity to help bring Isaiah’s vision into reality. God can use the caring community here at Emanuel to inspire those around us to say, “See how these Christians love one another.” God can use us to help change Philadelphia into a place that is truly a city of brotherly love and sisterly affection. All we have to do to be awake, and to be willing to let God use us in His service.
During this Advent season of anticipation and preparation, may we be awakened to God’s powerful presence, here on Fillmore Street, and in our individual lives. Amen.
*******************
Please join us at Emanuel United Church of Christ on Sundays at 10 am. as we prepare the way to welcome the coming of the Christ child. We're on Fillmore Street (off Thompson). www.emanuelphila.org
We continue today in the season of Advent. While many of our neighbors are going to the mall and letting their kids sit on Santa’s lap, we in the church are out in the desert with John the Baptist. The contrast couldn’t be more stark. And yet, today we also watched Al walk to the Advent wreath and light the candles of hope and peace – and these themes are picked up in our reading from Isaiah. And so even though John’s words are unlike anything you’ll ever hear from a shopping mall Santa, we can have faith that, ultimately, they are gospel – good news.
Today’s readings give us two powerful, and very different sets of images. The Isaiah reading tells us of a person coming in a spirit of wisdom and understanding, counsel and might, knowledge and fear of the Lord – who is described as a shoot coming out of a stump. This person will bring such incredible peace that even the animal world will no longer be predatory. Even the animals will testify to God’s reign of peace. It’s almost like comparing the images we see on a nature show like Animal Planet – in which bigger animals hunt down and kill smaller animals – into something that looks like an old Disney cartoon, where all the animals live together in harmony. This mighty one to come will look out for the interests of the poor and vulnerable – will judge with equity for the meek of the earth. And then come these beautiful words: “they shall not hurt or destroy on all my holy mountain, for the earth shall be full of the knowledge of the Lord, as the waters cover the sea” And Isaiah’s vision is inclusive – even the nations – the Gentiles - shall inquire of Jesse. This image of the Gentiles coming to Judah to learn of God is echoed repeatedly in our reading from Romans, and we’ll see it again in Matthew’s Gospel. Similarly, last week’s Old Testament reading was also from Isaiah, and also had a theme of peace – it was the passage which prophesied that swords would be beaten into plowshares and spears into pruning hooks; nation would not rise up against nation, neither learn war any more. Isaiah gives us the image of the shoot coming out of a stump – the image is that of a place where there had once been a great tree, which had been cut down. The stump appeared lifeless and dead, beyond hope. The stump represents Judah, currently under attack from the very Gentile nations who will later come to Judah to inquire of God. But then, a shoot starts sprouting – in that stump, there’s still life. Even after a time of calamity and destruction, comes a sprout of hope. And that sprout, that shoot, will bring life, to Jew and Gentile alike.
And then comes that other image – that of John the Baptist, the wildman in the wilderness. We don’t get much background in Matthew’s Gospel, but Luke’s Gospel gives us some back-story – his father, Zechariah, was a priest, of the priestly order of Abijah. An angel proclaimed his birth to Zechariah and his wife Elizabeth, both old and long past the years of childbearing. But while John was born into a priestly family and likely spent at least part of his formative years among his father’s priestly colleagues, by the time we meet him in Matthew, he has long since left behind the world of the Temple, of sacrifice and liturgical ceremony. John is out in the desert, dressed strangely – in fact, with his robe of camel hair and leather belt, his dress evokes the community’s memory of the prophet Elijah. He lives a marginal existence, eating locusts and wild honey - a diet like that of the guy on Survivorman or one of those other wilderness survival shows - telling people they had to repent and get right with God – and people flocked out into the wilderness to hear him.
It’s not hard to imagine what his message sounded like – because we have street preachers right here in Philadelphia. They look funny. Sometimes they smell funny. Their voices grate on our nerves. Usually we try to avoid them. There’s one in particular, who died some years back, that I remember, and maybe you might as well – she was a lady with the sandwich board that used to preach in the area around City Hall some years ago – she had a sing-song, raspy voice, and day after day, fair weather or foul, she proclaimed her message: "Sinner….
Sinner…If you want to see the devil, take a look in the mirror…..” If you were on the El and she walked into your car, you might move to another car. But Matthew’s gospel said that folks went out into the wilderness to hear John the Baptist – his message that they had to change their lives hit home with them. In fact, Matthew goes out of his way to say that the people of Jerusalem, all Judea, and all the region along the Jordan – some of which was Gentile territory – came out to John. In Isaiah we read about the Gentile nations coming to inquire of Jesse, and we see that vision playing out in John’s ministry. John sacrificed much in the way of comfort – plentiful food and comfortable clothing, community life – in order to be faithful to God’s call. In this sacrifice, John’s listeners could see that John’s message had integrity – John not only talked the talk, he walked the walk of faith.
Matthew’s gospel says that Pharisees and Sadducees were coming out to see this wilderness prophet. Remember that the Pharisees and Sadducees didn’t get along – the Pharisees believed in the resurrection while the Sadducees didn’t; the Sadducees were tied into the Temple leadership – John’s father Zechariah likely knew lots of Sadducees - and the Sadducees played politics with Rome while the Pharisees were more for the common people. But, as the saying goes, the enemy of my enemy is my friend – at least for the moment. They were able to put their differences aside for the moment and join together in a temporary, cynical sort of alliance against the threat both groups saw in John. And of course, John sees right through their charade of piety: “You brood of vipers -Who warned you to flee the wrath to come….!” Ouch! But, remember, John had grown up among the Temple establishment, so he likely knew what he was talking about. Heaven knows that in our day, there is no shortage of vipers among the clergy and lay leadership of some churches and even some denominations.
Of course, as Jews, the Sadducees and Pharisees saw themselves as God’s chosen people, while the Gentiles in the surrounding nations were not. The Sadducees and Pharisees thought they would be saved by their family heritage, their status as leaders of God’s chosen people, their membership in a long line of ancestors leading back to Abraham. But John the Baptist bursts their bubble – “Do not presume to say to yourselves, ‘We have Abraham as our ancestor.’ ” Last week’s Isaiah reading, as well as this week’s reading from Romans, speak of the Gentiles coming to glorify God’s name – and John the Baptist tells the crowd that God can raise up children for Abraham out of the very stones on the ground, if God so desires. The Sadducees and Pharisees cannot rest on the accomplishments of their ancestors. Their own lives had to be right with God. In a sense, through John, God is telling these religious leaders, “Yes, yes, I know your ancestors well – but their deeds of faith are in the past. So what have you done for me lately?”
John goes on to use even more urgent imagery – “the ax is lying at the root of the trees”. If I’m a tree, one thing I don’t want to see anywhere near me is an ax. If I’m a tree, an ax has the power to turn me from a towering oak into a stump – sort of like the stump in the Isaiah reading. John is giving the Sadducees and Pharisees a stark choice: bear fruit or be cut down. Produce or perish. Grow - or die.
John also uses the image of a winnowing fork. A winnowing fork was used with grain that was newly harvested from the fields. The farmer would use the fork to throw the grain up in the air. The chaff, or husk, of the grain was lighter, and when the grain was thrown up in the air, the breeze would carry it off. The heavier kernel would fall to the floor, and it was those kernels of grain that would be used to bake bread, after the chaff or husks had first been removed.
In the United Church of Christ we rarely hear this sort of stark, “turn or burn” language. It makes us uncomfortable. It reminds of us slick TV evangelists and wild-eyed fundamentalist preachers condemning everyone around them to hell. That’s not who we are in the UCC. So I’d like to follow John’s words in a slightly different direction than what you’ll hear from the TV preachers – though I have no intention of letting anyone off the hook of John’s words.
John’s words are first and foremost motivated by a sense of urgency. He is presented as announcing the coming of “one who is more powerful than I.” The coming of this “more powerful” One will change everything. John wants his listeners to be ready for the coming of this powerful Savior of the World. I can see almost picture John wanting to pick these smug religious leaders off the ground and shake them – “Wake up! Pay attention!”
John knew well the words of Isaiah that we read today – the image of the peaceable kingdom of God, in which justice and peace would be the order of the day. He also saw clearly how things were – and that the status quo of hostility and injustice wasn’t leading toward the vision in Isaiah. John also knew that this “powerful one” who was coming would bring in the Kingdom of God – Isaiah’s peaceable Kingdom – but this would require, not just minor tweaking or tinkering with the status quo, but radical change, gut-level, heart-wrenching change. John’s listeners couldn’t rely on religious ritual – as represented by the Sadducees – or the inherited faith of their ancestors. For them to experience the blessings of the Kingdom, they had to make a personal commitment – and this meant their lives had to change.
Today’s readings offer a very real challenge to us here at Emanuel, but also offer great hope. John’s words remind us that we can’t put our faith entirely in our history and our heritage – as if to say, we’ve always been here, so we’ll always be here. John challenges us – in fact, urgently challenges us - to continue to make a personal and a congregational faith commitment, a commitment that will bear good fruit, both in our individual lives and in the life of our gathered congregation here at Emanuel. We can’t rest on our history. God is always challenging us, as individuals and as a congregation, “So what have you done for me lately?”
The image of the winnowing fork separating wheat from chaff may lead us to think of God separating the good people from the bad people. That is one way to read John’s words. However, I think we’ll acknowledge that most people, likely including all of us here, are a mixed bag, wanting to be faithful to God, but often distracted by other priorities or led by sin into behavior destructive to ourselves or others. And I very much count myself in that description. The line between good and evil is not a line that has perfect people on one side, and perfectly awful people on the other – but rather the line between good and evil runs through every individual human heart, and every congregation. So I see the winnowing fork as a symbol of God’s commitment to work in our lives to clear away the chaff, the distractions, to clear away anything that stands between us – us as individuals and us as a congregation - and God. This is how John’s voice in the wilderness calls us to prepare the way of the Lord – to allow God to remove the chaff of evil and destraction in our lives, to clear away the rocks and fill in the potholes on our life journeys, to allow the Lord to clear the way so that we may walk in fellowship with God.
The great hope in our readings comes from our faith in an awesome God who, even if we are cut down like the stump in the Isaiah reading, can always help us to sink our roots deep into the soil of Christian faith and bring forth a shoot of new life. Or, to use John’s image, we as Gentiles are like those rocks and stones that God can use to produce children for Abraham.
God uses our individual acts of faith, hope and charity to help bring Isaiah’s vision into reality. God can use the caring community here at Emanuel to inspire those around us to say, “See how these Christians love one another.” God can use us to help change Philadelphia into a place that is truly a city of brotherly love and sisterly affection. All we have to do to be awake, and to be willing to let God use us in His service.
During this Advent season of anticipation and preparation, may we be awakened to God’s powerful presence, here on Fillmore Street, and in our individual lives. Amen.
*******************
Please join us at Emanuel United Church of Christ on Sundays at 10 am. as we prepare the way to welcome the coming of the Christ child. We're on Fillmore Street (off Thompson). www.emanuelphila.org
Sunday, December 13, 2009
What Should We Do?
When I was preparing this morning, an old church camp song came to mind. Raise your hands if you’ve heard it before:
If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands
If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands
If you’re happy and you know it, then your life will surely show it.
If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands.
And there are lots of other verses – stomp your feet, shout out loud, say amen! No end of things to do if you’re happy.
Today is the third Sunday of Advent, that season of anticipation for the coming of the Christ child. Once again, while our neighbors are at the mall, our Gospel reading (Luke 3:7-18) has us out in the desert with John the Baptist. And yet, today we also lit, along with the candles of hope and peace, the candle of joy. This year, our reading come from the Gospel of Luke, and, indeed, in Luke’s Gospel, joy is a recurring theme – joy that can last despite our circumstances.
Luke’s account of John the Baptist has much in common with Matthew and Mark – same guy dressed in camel skin, eating locusts and wild honey, same challenging words for those coming to him – “you brood of vipers” – you know, John’s not going to win many popularity points calling people snakes – same demand for repentance, same warning that their status as descendents of Abraham would not save them, as God could create descendents for Abraham from the stones on the ground. And, indeed, as God did create spiritual descendents for Abraham from the Gentile nations that accepted the good news gladly – and we here at Emanuel count among those spiritual descendents of Abraham that God has created.
But in Luke, the crowd pushes back at John a bit. “What should we do?” What do you want from us, John? As strident as John’s message has been so far, you might expect John to tell everyone to sell their homes and give away all their possessions and leave their families and flee the world and wear a hair shirt and come live with John in the desert – something really extreme – but John’s demands are – not that unreasonable. “Whoever has two coats must share with those who have none; those who have food must do likewise. Tax collectors, don’t collect more than is due. Soldiers, don’t blackmail or strong-arm or shake down the populace for money – be satisfied with your wages.” It may sound at first hearing like no more than “playing nice in the sandbox”, so to speak – don’t cheat, don’t extort – but more fundamentally John is asking his listeners not to abuse their authority, but to exercise it fairly. And there’s also a demand to share with those less fortunate. I would note that John’s demand to share a coat, if you have two, may be more demanding than it sounds. He didn’t say, if you have 22 coats, give away the one that’s the most worn out and threadbare…John’s demand is more like sharing half your possessions than just giving away one extra coat out of our surplus. So this would be costly - but this is all doable stuff – challenging, but doable. We can do this. And for a population that was used to being cheated and shaken down and watching others prosper while they starved, all of this would have been good news – cause for joy.
One wonders what John might say today if we were to go out into the desert to listen to him. Maybe something like: hey, investment bankers, don’t grab every last dollar in the economy for yourself – share some with the rest of us. Health insurance executives, don’t cut off peoples’ benefits the second they get sick. CEO’s, don’t pad your own pay by firing every last worker you can spare and shipping your jobs overseas. You can probably fill in a few suggestions on your own.
Luke tells us that with many other exhortations, John preached the good news to the people. Luke saw John’s words about repentance and turning around our lives as good news. But good news for who? And the answer is, ultimately us, our neighbor, and everyone. It’s all steps on the way toward that day of joy envisioned in Zephaniah, steps toward that day of the coming of the Kingdom when God will deal with the oppressors – those of Zephaniah’s time, those of John the Baptists’ and Jesus’ time, those of our own time - will gather the lame and the outcast, and turn shame into praise and renown.
Let me be clear: This isn’t about trying to work our way into the Kingdom of God. None of us can do any of this perfectly, and we will always need to ask forgiveness from Jesus, the coming one who is greater than John, for those places in our lives that are broken and those times when we sin against God and neighbor. It is only by God’s working in us that we can do any of this at all. But John’s message is about clearing the path, smoothing the way for the coming of Jesus and kingdom of God. John is a transitional figure, a bridge from Judaism’s “law and prophets” to Jesus and the coming of the Kingdom. He’s preparing the way for the greater one who is to come, and preaches repentance. Now when we think of repentance, we usually think of confession and being sorry for the sins of the past week – and that’s a part of it. But for John, repentance is not just about changing one’s mind, but about changing one’s behavior, ultimately about changing one’s life. Perhaps John is challenging his listeners to begin to live into the kind of behavior that expected in the kingdom of God. If you’re happy and you know it, then your life will surely show it. If you’ve got the joy of Jesus in your heart, you won’t be able to keep it to yourself.
John envisions Jesus, the coming one who is greater than he, as coming with a winnowing fork, to separate the wheat from the chaff. In that time, the winnowing fork would have been used to throw the wheat up in the air, so that the wind would catch and carry away the lighter chaff, or waste, leaving the wheat on the floor. When we hear about the wheat being separated by the chaff, we may think of Jesus separating the good people from the bad people, the sheep from the goats – and that may be part of it – but it’s also separating the good from the bad in each of us. And so it is with us; as we turn our lives over to Christ and live into being a disciple of Christ, as we go through the trials and storms of our lives and we feel like our lives are being tossed around and turned upside down, over the years Christ works to remove those things in our lives that keep us in bondage. And as we are more in harmony with God and neighbor, our lives will reflect the joy that comes with discipleship. If we’re happy and we know it, then our lives will surely show it. Then our lives will reflect Paul’s words from his letter to the Philippians, which he wrote from prison:
Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
For worry is at the heart of so much that is wrong with the world. As a society, fear of scarcity, fear that we won’t have enough, drives us to take more than our share. And that’s as true for the investment banker who insists he really needs a $3 million bonus and can’t possibly scrape by on $2 million, as it is for someone at the food bank who may try to take an extra can of vegetables. Fear and worry for our own safety drives us to turn our backs on our neighbors. If you’re worried and you know it, clench your fists…if you’re worried and you know it, grind your teeth….if you’re worried and you know it then your life will surely show it….But we don’t have to live in worry. Rather rejoice – even in unsettling times like our own. Let your gentleness be known. Don’t worry, but rather take your concerns in prayer to God, with thanksgiving. And the peace of God, which passes all understanding, will guard our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. The peace of God – not a peace that’s enforced at gunpoint, not a peace that’s just a break between conflicts, but God’s peace that passes all human understanding, that will guard our hearts and minds so that, even though all around us is in an uproar, our hearts and minds will be focused on Christ Jesus. I began with a camp song, and I’m closing with a gospel song that you may not have heard, but maybe it’s one you can take home with you:
I woke up this morning with my mind stayed on Jesus
I woke up this morning with my mind stayed on Jesus
I woke up this morning with my mind stayed on Jesus
Allelu Allelu Alleluia
So no matter what this hectic Advent season brings, may we keep our hearts and minds stayed on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith. Amen.
If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands
If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands
If you’re happy and you know it, then your life will surely show it.
If you’re happy and you know it, clap your hands.
And there are lots of other verses – stomp your feet, shout out loud, say amen! No end of things to do if you’re happy.
Today is the third Sunday of Advent, that season of anticipation for the coming of the Christ child. Once again, while our neighbors are at the mall, our Gospel reading (Luke 3:7-18) has us out in the desert with John the Baptist. And yet, today we also lit, along with the candles of hope and peace, the candle of joy. This year, our reading come from the Gospel of Luke, and, indeed, in Luke’s Gospel, joy is a recurring theme – joy that can last despite our circumstances.
Luke’s account of John the Baptist has much in common with Matthew and Mark – same guy dressed in camel skin, eating locusts and wild honey, same challenging words for those coming to him – “you brood of vipers” – you know, John’s not going to win many popularity points calling people snakes – same demand for repentance, same warning that their status as descendents of Abraham would not save them, as God could create descendents for Abraham from the stones on the ground. And, indeed, as God did create spiritual descendents for Abraham from the Gentile nations that accepted the good news gladly – and we here at Emanuel count among those spiritual descendents of Abraham that God has created.
But in Luke, the crowd pushes back at John a bit. “What should we do?” What do you want from us, John? As strident as John’s message has been so far, you might expect John to tell everyone to sell their homes and give away all their possessions and leave their families and flee the world and wear a hair shirt and come live with John in the desert – something really extreme – but John’s demands are – not that unreasonable. “Whoever has two coats must share with those who have none; those who have food must do likewise. Tax collectors, don’t collect more than is due. Soldiers, don’t blackmail or strong-arm or shake down the populace for money – be satisfied with your wages.” It may sound at first hearing like no more than “playing nice in the sandbox”, so to speak – don’t cheat, don’t extort – but more fundamentally John is asking his listeners not to abuse their authority, but to exercise it fairly. And there’s also a demand to share with those less fortunate. I would note that John’s demand to share a coat, if you have two, may be more demanding than it sounds. He didn’t say, if you have 22 coats, give away the one that’s the most worn out and threadbare…John’s demand is more like sharing half your possessions than just giving away one extra coat out of our surplus. So this would be costly - but this is all doable stuff – challenging, but doable. We can do this. And for a population that was used to being cheated and shaken down and watching others prosper while they starved, all of this would have been good news – cause for joy.
One wonders what John might say today if we were to go out into the desert to listen to him. Maybe something like: hey, investment bankers, don’t grab every last dollar in the economy for yourself – share some with the rest of us. Health insurance executives, don’t cut off peoples’ benefits the second they get sick. CEO’s, don’t pad your own pay by firing every last worker you can spare and shipping your jobs overseas. You can probably fill in a few suggestions on your own.
Luke tells us that with many other exhortations, John preached the good news to the people. Luke saw John’s words about repentance and turning around our lives as good news. But good news for who? And the answer is, ultimately us, our neighbor, and everyone. It’s all steps on the way toward that day of joy envisioned in Zephaniah, steps toward that day of the coming of the Kingdom when God will deal with the oppressors – those of Zephaniah’s time, those of John the Baptists’ and Jesus’ time, those of our own time - will gather the lame and the outcast, and turn shame into praise and renown.
Let me be clear: This isn’t about trying to work our way into the Kingdom of God. None of us can do any of this perfectly, and we will always need to ask forgiveness from Jesus, the coming one who is greater than John, for those places in our lives that are broken and those times when we sin against God and neighbor. It is only by God’s working in us that we can do any of this at all. But John’s message is about clearing the path, smoothing the way for the coming of Jesus and kingdom of God. John is a transitional figure, a bridge from Judaism’s “law and prophets” to Jesus and the coming of the Kingdom. He’s preparing the way for the greater one who is to come, and preaches repentance. Now when we think of repentance, we usually think of confession and being sorry for the sins of the past week – and that’s a part of it. But for John, repentance is not just about changing one’s mind, but about changing one’s behavior, ultimately about changing one’s life. Perhaps John is challenging his listeners to begin to live into the kind of behavior that expected in the kingdom of God. If you’re happy and you know it, then your life will surely show it. If you’ve got the joy of Jesus in your heart, you won’t be able to keep it to yourself.
John envisions Jesus, the coming one who is greater than he, as coming with a winnowing fork, to separate the wheat from the chaff. In that time, the winnowing fork would have been used to throw the wheat up in the air, so that the wind would catch and carry away the lighter chaff, or waste, leaving the wheat on the floor. When we hear about the wheat being separated by the chaff, we may think of Jesus separating the good people from the bad people, the sheep from the goats – and that may be part of it – but it’s also separating the good from the bad in each of us. And so it is with us; as we turn our lives over to Christ and live into being a disciple of Christ, as we go through the trials and storms of our lives and we feel like our lives are being tossed around and turned upside down, over the years Christ works to remove those things in our lives that keep us in bondage. And as we are more in harmony with God and neighbor, our lives will reflect the joy that comes with discipleship. If we’re happy and we know it, then our lives will surely show it. Then our lives will reflect Paul’s words from his letter to the Philippians, which he wrote from prison:
Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice. Let your gentleness be known to everyone. The Lord is near. Do not worry about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
For worry is at the heart of so much that is wrong with the world. As a society, fear of scarcity, fear that we won’t have enough, drives us to take more than our share. And that’s as true for the investment banker who insists he really needs a $3 million bonus and can’t possibly scrape by on $2 million, as it is for someone at the food bank who may try to take an extra can of vegetables. Fear and worry for our own safety drives us to turn our backs on our neighbors. If you’re worried and you know it, clench your fists…if you’re worried and you know it, grind your teeth….if you’re worried and you know it then your life will surely show it….But we don’t have to live in worry. Rather rejoice – even in unsettling times like our own. Let your gentleness be known. Don’t worry, but rather take your concerns in prayer to God, with thanksgiving. And the peace of God, which passes all understanding, will guard our hearts and minds in Christ Jesus. The peace of God – not a peace that’s enforced at gunpoint, not a peace that’s just a break between conflicts, but God’s peace that passes all human understanding, that will guard our hearts and minds so that, even though all around us is in an uproar, our hearts and minds will be focused on Christ Jesus. I began with a camp song, and I’m closing with a gospel song that you may not have heard, but maybe it’s one you can take home with you:
I woke up this morning with my mind stayed on Jesus
I woke up this morning with my mind stayed on Jesus
I woke up this morning with my mind stayed on Jesus
Allelu Allelu Alleluia
So no matter what this hectic Advent season brings, may we keep our hearts and minds stayed on Jesus, the pioneer and perfecter of our faith. Amen.
A Voice In The Wilderness
Today is the second Sunday in advent, our period of waiting for the coming of the Christ child. Earlier today we lit the candle of peace. Yet our Gospel reading today features John the Baptist in the wilderness preaching repentance, preaching change. His words don’t always sound very peaceful. John the Baptist isn’t the first person who comes to mend when I hear the word “peace”. And yet John points to a peace far deeper and far more lasting than the “peace and quiet” for which we so often yearn.
Each of the Gospel writers shape their stories in various ways. Remember that last year, Mark’s Gospel started out with the words, “the beginning of the good news of Jesus” and then went right into talking about John. Luke, writing 20 years later for a wealthy patron whom Luke names as Theophilus, is very careful about setting out the background for his Gospel. In fact, he introduced his gospel by saying that he’d heard from the eyewitnesses to Jesus and read earlier accounts, and wanted to take all this material and set it carefully in the proper order so that his readers would understand. And so Luke 3rd chapter gives us historical context, telling us who society’s key players, the movers and shakers, were at the time – “Let’s see…15th year of the Emperor Tiberius Caesar…Pontius Pilate governor of Judea, Herod the tetrarch or ruler of Galilee, Herod’s brother Philip the tetrarch in charge of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanius the tetrarch or ruler of Abilene…Annas and Caiaphas in charge at the Temple. After telling us “who’s who” from the view of the society of the day, Luke then begins to tell us who’s really in charge…”the word of God came to John the son of Zechariah in the wilderness.
Last Sunday during the Bible study and coffee hour we talked a little about John’s birth. John’s father was Zechariah, and John’s birth to the aged couple Zechariah and Elizabeth was announced by the angel Gabriel. Zechariah was one of the priests in the Temple at Jerusalem, and had been offering burnt incense when Gabriel appeared to him. Zechariah was a priest, and you know what they say about “PK’s” or preachers’ kids…they have a reputation for rebelling and running wild. Whether it was “PK syndrome” or for some other reason, Zechariah’s son John did his ministry in the wilderness, far away from the Temple establishment, and in fact John was quite critical of the religious leaders, calling them a brood of vipers. He grew up among them, surrounded by them, so I guess he’d have known what he was talking about. Even so, I’m sure Zechariah must have been perplexed at his son’s harsh criticism of all Zechariah had devoted his life to, and you might imagine Zechariah’s conversations with his priestly colleagues…. “what did I do wrong?...well, maybe John just had to find his own way…he always did kind of march to his own drummer….”
Luke follows the pattern of Mark and Matthew in tying John’s ministry – a baptism of repentance for forgiveness of sins – to words from Isaiah 40. The Isaiah 40 passage begins softly – “Comfort, comfort ye my people.” Handel’s “Messiah” has a single tenor voice singing these words – “Comfort ye….comfort ye my people, says your God, says your God” Isaiah says to speak tenderly to Jerusalem and cry that she has served her term – in context, her exile in Babylon – and that her penalty is paid. And then Isaiah moves to the words quoted in the Gospels – “A voice crying in the wilderness, prepare the way of the Lord. And then we get words that sound like a project for PennDot – “make straight in the desert a highway for our God – every valley shall be lifted up, every mountain brought low, the crooked straight and the rough places plain.” Our civil engineering project having concluded, Luke, quoting Isaiah, says, “then the glory of the Lord will be revealed, and all people will see it together, for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.”
Repentance. Forgiveness. Valleys lifted up, mountains leveled. In a word, change. Earlier today we lit the candle of peace, but the idea of change doesn’t always bring peace. In fact, change usually brings anxiety. What’s wrong with the way things are now? If we change, we’ll have to learn new ways of doing things. We might make mistakes. We might fail. And for all the talk in church about repentance – change for those not in church - church is probably one of the places most resistant to change. Congregations have split over matters as trivial as the color of a new set of curtains in the social hall. There’s an old joke among pastors that the seven last words of the church are “we never did it that way before….”
Change brings anxiety – unless our current situation is a painful one, in which change may be very welcome. If the status quo is comfortable, we’ll resist change, but if we’re already in a world of hurt – well, when you think about it, what do we have to lose? And those who heard John’s message gladly were in a world of hurt – economically impoverished, politically oppressed and beaten down by Rome, spiritually oppressed by a corrupt religious hierarchy that had lost its way, much of which was in Rome’s pocket. For those in positions of comfort and power – the Caesars and Herods and Annases and Caiaphases of the world, the bad news was – things were about to change. For those who were at the bottom and on the margins of society, for those who were hurting, the good news was – things were about to change. For those whose lives were a perpetual struggle, the prospect of change brought, not anxiety, but hope and peace – the candles we lit today.
How about us? How we respond to John’s message may depend on, to use a favorite United Church of Christ phrase, where we are on our journey of life. If we are in a world of hurt, conscious of the brokenness in our lives, conscious that our actions have alienated us from God and neighbor, John’s message may be welcome – we know the status quo isn’t working, isn’t making it any more, and we’re overjoyed that change is even an option. Change may involve struggle and hard work, but we’re happy to embrace change – happy to repent, to leave our old ways behind – to have the chance for something better. And if you feel that tug of the heart, that voice of God calling you to change, to repent, I urge you to listen, and to respond. If today you hear His voice, harden not your heart.
If we’ve been in the church for a while, I’m concerned that John’s message may fade into background noise…We hear about John every year about this time, hear about a voice in the wilderness, a highway for our God, baptism of repentance…yep, we’ve heard it all before. After all, we may think, it’s those people out there that need to change. We’re already in the church. We’re saved. We’re ok. It may be unsettling to consider that the religious leaders of John’s day were the ones for whom John had the harshest words. It may be unsettling for us to consider that God, who has done so much for us and in whom we’ve had faith for so long, may yet again be doing new things in our midst, may yet again be calling us forward to new acts of obedience…. to move out of places that at one time nourished us but now have us stuck, to change direction; in a word, to repent.
Prepare the way of the Lord,
make his paths straight.
Every valley shall be filled,
and every mountain and hill
shall be made low,
and the crooked shall be made straight,
and the rough ways made smooth;
and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.’” Luke 3:4-6
In the days and weeks ahead, may we prepare and clear the path for the new things that God will be doing in our midst. Amen.
Each of the Gospel writers shape their stories in various ways. Remember that last year, Mark’s Gospel started out with the words, “the beginning of the good news of Jesus” and then went right into talking about John. Luke, writing 20 years later for a wealthy patron whom Luke names as Theophilus, is very careful about setting out the background for his Gospel. In fact, he introduced his gospel by saying that he’d heard from the eyewitnesses to Jesus and read earlier accounts, and wanted to take all this material and set it carefully in the proper order so that his readers would understand. And so Luke 3rd chapter gives us historical context, telling us who society’s key players, the movers and shakers, were at the time – “Let’s see…15th year of the Emperor Tiberius Caesar…Pontius Pilate governor of Judea, Herod the tetrarch or ruler of Galilee, Herod’s brother Philip the tetrarch in charge of Ituraea and Trachonitis, and Lysanius the tetrarch or ruler of Abilene…Annas and Caiaphas in charge at the Temple. After telling us “who’s who” from the view of the society of the day, Luke then begins to tell us who’s really in charge…”the word of God came to John the son of Zechariah in the wilderness.
Last Sunday during the Bible study and coffee hour we talked a little about John’s birth. John’s father was Zechariah, and John’s birth to the aged couple Zechariah and Elizabeth was announced by the angel Gabriel. Zechariah was one of the priests in the Temple at Jerusalem, and had been offering burnt incense when Gabriel appeared to him. Zechariah was a priest, and you know what they say about “PK’s” or preachers’ kids…they have a reputation for rebelling and running wild. Whether it was “PK syndrome” or for some other reason, Zechariah’s son John did his ministry in the wilderness, far away from the Temple establishment, and in fact John was quite critical of the religious leaders, calling them a brood of vipers. He grew up among them, surrounded by them, so I guess he’d have known what he was talking about. Even so, I’m sure Zechariah must have been perplexed at his son’s harsh criticism of all Zechariah had devoted his life to, and you might imagine Zechariah’s conversations with his priestly colleagues…. “what did I do wrong?...well, maybe John just had to find his own way…he always did kind of march to his own drummer….”
Luke follows the pattern of Mark and Matthew in tying John’s ministry – a baptism of repentance for forgiveness of sins – to words from Isaiah 40. The Isaiah 40 passage begins softly – “Comfort, comfort ye my people.” Handel’s “Messiah” has a single tenor voice singing these words – “Comfort ye….comfort ye my people, says your God, says your God” Isaiah says to speak tenderly to Jerusalem and cry that she has served her term – in context, her exile in Babylon – and that her penalty is paid. And then Isaiah moves to the words quoted in the Gospels – “A voice crying in the wilderness, prepare the way of the Lord. And then we get words that sound like a project for PennDot – “make straight in the desert a highway for our God – every valley shall be lifted up, every mountain brought low, the crooked straight and the rough places plain.” Our civil engineering project having concluded, Luke, quoting Isaiah, says, “then the glory of the Lord will be revealed, and all people will see it together, for the mouth of the Lord has spoken.”
Repentance. Forgiveness. Valleys lifted up, mountains leveled. In a word, change. Earlier today we lit the candle of peace, but the idea of change doesn’t always bring peace. In fact, change usually brings anxiety. What’s wrong with the way things are now? If we change, we’ll have to learn new ways of doing things. We might make mistakes. We might fail. And for all the talk in church about repentance – change for those not in church - church is probably one of the places most resistant to change. Congregations have split over matters as trivial as the color of a new set of curtains in the social hall. There’s an old joke among pastors that the seven last words of the church are “we never did it that way before….”
Change brings anxiety – unless our current situation is a painful one, in which change may be very welcome. If the status quo is comfortable, we’ll resist change, but if we’re already in a world of hurt – well, when you think about it, what do we have to lose? And those who heard John’s message gladly were in a world of hurt – economically impoverished, politically oppressed and beaten down by Rome, spiritually oppressed by a corrupt religious hierarchy that had lost its way, much of which was in Rome’s pocket. For those in positions of comfort and power – the Caesars and Herods and Annases and Caiaphases of the world, the bad news was – things were about to change. For those who were at the bottom and on the margins of society, for those who were hurting, the good news was – things were about to change. For those whose lives were a perpetual struggle, the prospect of change brought, not anxiety, but hope and peace – the candles we lit today.
How about us? How we respond to John’s message may depend on, to use a favorite United Church of Christ phrase, where we are on our journey of life. If we are in a world of hurt, conscious of the brokenness in our lives, conscious that our actions have alienated us from God and neighbor, John’s message may be welcome – we know the status quo isn’t working, isn’t making it any more, and we’re overjoyed that change is even an option. Change may involve struggle and hard work, but we’re happy to embrace change – happy to repent, to leave our old ways behind – to have the chance for something better. And if you feel that tug of the heart, that voice of God calling you to change, to repent, I urge you to listen, and to respond. If today you hear His voice, harden not your heart.
If we’ve been in the church for a while, I’m concerned that John’s message may fade into background noise…We hear about John every year about this time, hear about a voice in the wilderness, a highway for our God, baptism of repentance…yep, we’ve heard it all before. After all, we may think, it’s those people out there that need to change. We’re already in the church. We’re saved. We’re ok. It may be unsettling to consider that the religious leaders of John’s day were the ones for whom John had the harshest words. It may be unsettling for us to consider that God, who has done so much for us and in whom we’ve had faith for so long, may yet again be doing new things in our midst, may yet again be calling us forward to new acts of obedience…. to move out of places that at one time nourished us but now have us stuck, to change direction; in a word, to repent.
Prepare the way of the Lord,
make his paths straight.
Every valley shall be filled,
and every mountain and hill
shall be made low,
and the crooked shall be made straight,
and the rough ways made smooth;
and all flesh shall see the salvation of God.’” Luke 3:4-6
In the days and weeks ahead, may we prepare and clear the path for the new things that God will be doing in our midst. Amen.
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