Have you ever wondered why shepherds are the first to hear about the birth of Jesus? I confess I haven’t. Hearing that story from Luke is so familiar and so much a part of all my life, that I can slip into it in the same way I slip into my comfortable evening slippers. They’re stretched and ready, requiring no effort. They’re warm and comfortable and add to my relaxation. This story is just like that. It’s so comfortable to hear these words on Christmas Eve that they often don’t challenge me at all. Until this year. Suddenly, I wondered, “why shepherds?”
Shepherds were the epitome of all that was bad in agrarian culture. The stereotyped shepherd was regarded as a thief who stole, killed and sold the owner’s lambs he was there to protect. Shepherds were seen as ritually unclean and, therefore, unfit for company. Yet angels come to them. Our expectation is that they would be among the last to hear any good news, as unworthy as they were. Yet, contrary to our expectations, they are the first. Luke shows us from the very beginning of the story of Jesus that God is going to care about everyone, no matter what their reputation or station. And isn’t that just like God to surprise us?
Who could have expected God to come as a baby in the first place? If you want to start a revolution in the hearts and minds of people, you come with a trumpet, don’t you? You come with an army, don’t you? You come with a media blitz, don’t you? But not only does God come as a helpless baby, he has the new kingdom announced to shepherds—the lowest of the low. What incredibly good news this is for us!
In my tradition, we often pray that our God is one “unto all hearts are open, all desires known, and from whom no secrets are hid.” That should just scare most of us to death. To think that God knows the innermost junk that clogs up my heart, the desires I have no business harboring, secrets that no one can ever know—to think God knows all that and knew it about the shepherds too, and still he came to them first! What blessed hope this is for us.
I heard a story recently about a woman diagnosed with a terminal illness who had been given only a few months to live. As she faced this, she called her priest and said she wanted to discuss her final arrangements with him. She told him the hymns she wanted sung and what Scriptures she’d like read. She also said she had a favorite Bible she wanted buried with her.
When all seemed to have been said, the priest said a little prayer and was getting up to leave, when she said, “Oh wait. There’s one more thing. This is very important. I want to be buried with a fork in my right hand.” The priest was taken aback and blurted out, “What in the world for?” She explained her wish this way. “In all my years of attending potlucks at church, as we were clearing away the dishes, someone would always lean over and say, ‘Keep your fork.’ It was a signal that some delicious dessert was on the way—my favorite part of the meal. So when people see me in the casket with a fork in my hand and ask why, I want you to say: ‘Keep your fork. The best is yet to come!’”
That’s what Christmas tells us. If the angels and all the company of heaven sing the good news to lowly shepherds, we can be sure that song is for us as well. “The hopes and fears of all the years,” the carol tells us, “are met in thee tonight.” All the promises of the prophets are fulfilled in this baby. All the struggles and disappointments of the people of God are overcome by this tiny bundle of hope and assurance. Our future is secure, our hopes assured. The best is yet to come. Even shepherds know that.
Peace, really!
Jerry+
Wednesday, December 24, 2008
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Advent 4
Life is full of unexpected twists and turns. You know that. You’ve had the experience of chugging along, minding your own business, as it were, and then…. And then something happens you could never have predicted, never anticipated in your wildest imaginings and your life is never the same. I’ve had those moments. In 1984 I was conducting a workshop at Grace-St. Luke’s, something I had done before and which had always been completely uneventful, only this time my life suddenly changed. There, in the front row, was a woman who caught my attention. Without telling the whole story, let me just say, she was single, I was single and we’ve been married ever since. Pretty life changing, huh! And completely unexpected.
Or take Mary’s story. Her openness to God’s movement in her life changed everything forever. She seemed to understand what the angel was saying, but could she really have understood what the whole story of Jesus would be?
Kathy Mattea sings a haunting song about this, called Mary Did You Know?
“Mary did you know your baby boy would someday walk on water? Mary did you know your baby boy would save our sons and daughters? Did you know your baby boy has come to make you real; this child that you delivered would soon deliver you? Mary did you know your baby boy will give sight to a blind man? Mary did you know your baby boy will calm a storm with his hand? Did you know that your baby boy must walk were angels trod? When you kissed your little baby that you kissed the face of God? Mary did you know? Mary did you know the blind will see, the deaf will hear, the dead will live again; the lame will leap, the dumb will speak the praises of the Lamb? Mary did you know your baby boy is God of all creation? Mary did you know your baby boy will one day rule the nations? Did you know your that baby boy was heaven’s perfect lamb; this sleeping child you’re holding is the great I AM?”
No, she couldn’t really have grasped all that, she couldn’t have known what saying “yes” would cause any more than I could have know what asking a workshop participant for a date would cause. But because of her faith, she said, “Behold, I am the handmaiden of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word.” She never turned away from that. She was his loving, supportive mother to the end.
It doesn’t matter how fearful or perplexed we may be in the face of God’s daily call. It doesn’t matter how inadequate we personally feel or how poorly we understand exactly what we are getting ourselves into. What matters is our willingness to say “yes,” every day opening ourselves to the fire of the Spirit. God will take care of the rest.
You’ve got things you need to say “yes” to. And if you don’t right now—you will. Go ahead. God will take care of the rest.
Peace,
Jerry+
Or take Mary’s story. Her openness to God’s movement in her life changed everything forever. She seemed to understand what the angel was saying, but could she really have understood what the whole story of Jesus would be?
Kathy Mattea sings a haunting song about this, called Mary Did You Know?
“Mary did you know your baby boy would someday walk on water? Mary did you know your baby boy would save our sons and daughters? Did you know your baby boy has come to make you real; this child that you delivered would soon deliver you? Mary did you know your baby boy will give sight to a blind man? Mary did you know your baby boy will calm a storm with his hand? Did you know that your baby boy must walk were angels trod? When you kissed your little baby that you kissed the face of God? Mary did you know? Mary did you know the blind will see, the deaf will hear, the dead will live again; the lame will leap, the dumb will speak the praises of the Lamb? Mary did you know your baby boy is God of all creation? Mary did you know your baby boy will one day rule the nations? Did you know your that baby boy was heaven’s perfect lamb; this sleeping child you’re holding is the great I AM?”
No, she couldn’t really have grasped all that, she couldn’t have known what saying “yes” would cause any more than I could have know what asking a workshop participant for a date would cause. But because of her faith, she said, “Behold, I am the handmaiden of the Lord; let it be to me according to your word.” She never turned away from that. She was his loving, supportive mother to the end.
It doesn’t matter how fearful or perplexed we may be in the face of God’s daily call. It doesn’t matter how inadequate we personally feel or how poorly we understand exactly what we are getting ourselves into. What matters is our willingness to say “yes,” every day opening ourselves to the fire of the Spirit. God will take care of the rest.
You’ve got things you need to say “yes” to. And if you don’t right now—you will. Go ahead. God will take care of the rest.
Peace,
Jerry+
Friday, December 12, 2008
Advent 3
This is my favorite Advent sermon. It's a little long for a blog, but please indulge me.
John 1: 6- 8;19- 28
I know he shouldn’t have been, but my brother Roy was my favorite brother. It’s not like I had a lot to choose from, there was only one other, but I chose anyway. Roy is seventeen years older than I am and the other brother, Alfred is fifteen years older. That might have had something to do with it. Given their ages when I was first old enough to have a clue that I had brothers, Roy would have been a young adult, just graduated from high school and working. And Alfred would have been a self absorbed senior in high school. This is probably why they treated me differently, but whatever the reason, it was different enough that I was aware of it. And so, I had a favorite.
Roy had a job as a graphic artist and went to work every day in a clean white dress shirt. At dinner, he was still wearing it and I insisted that Bubba, which was what I called him when I was small, sit next to me at the table. I liked to reach out and touch him. Now think about that a minute. I’m two, feeding myself, and he’s got on a white dress shirt. But he didn’t care, because I was, in his words, his “little man.” In the family picture album, there are pictures of me with him, but never with Alfred. Beginning to get the idea? See why he was my favorite?
When I was barely a year old, Pearl Harbor happened, and by the time I was a little over two WWII was in full rip and Roy was in the Army, in Europe and in harm’s way. My Mom and Dad used a map of Europe to track troop movements they heard from the radio or read in the paper. It helped them feel connected to him in some way. When I was curious about this, they explained to me what a map was and I asked if Bubba had a map. They weren’t sure, but they thought he might. I thought he needed one, so I drew him one which they sent to him. I learned years later that he posted that map in the headquarters company he was assigned to so everybody could see it.
With his being gone, you might expect things would change in the seating around the dinner table. But I wouldn’t hear of it. Bubba had to have his chair—even if we had guests—and it had to be next to mine. It’s not that nobody else paid attention to me or loved me. I had plenty of that. I had a bunch of girl cousins who were my brothers’ ages and they loved to spend time with me. And, of course, I was especially precious to Mom and Dad, because a year or so after Roy left for the military, so did Alfred. I was it now, and with two brothers in danger, you could easily see how I might get lots of attention. No, it wasn’t that I wasn’t loved, it was that I missed this special man who loved spending time with me. I scribbled on paper and called them letters and Mom faithfully mailed them. And in his letters home, he always had something to say to me.
Then one day, we got a telegram. He was coming home! He didn’t know when exactly, but he was on his way. I woke up every morning wanting to know if Bubba was home yet. I went to bed every night asking if it would be tomorrow. The waiting was dreadful, but it was also full of excitement. Any moment, Bubba might be home! I’ve told you this story because I see a connection in it with the story in our Gospel. The people of Israel listening to John must have felt what I felt knowing Bubba was coming and coming any minute. Like me, they were filled with terrible excitement and hope. God, who had loved them, and yet who had felt so far away when they were in exile in Egypt and later in Babylon, was sending a long awaited one with power to restore things to the way they were. The Psalmist wrote about that dark time when God was so far away by saying, in part,
By the rivers of Babylon—
there we sat down and there we wept…
On the willows there we hung our harps…
How could we sing the Lord’s song…?
And now, not only were they back in Israel where they could sing the Lord’s song, but someone was coming to restore things to the way they were meant to be. They rushed to be baptized to prepare for this extraordinary moment which would shortly be upon them. They and I waited with heightened expectation for different things, but expectantly just the same.
One day, as we waited, Mom and I did what we did almost every week. We boarded a trolley and rode downtown to look around and get a bit of lunch at a lunch counter. After an afternoon of adventure, we climbed aboard another trolley and made our way back to the neighborhood, and after a short walk from the trolley stop, she let us into the empty and still house. And there on the bed in the front bedroom was Bubba, still in his Army overcoat, sound asleep.
It wasn’t at all how I imagined it to be. I thought there might be a parade or a band. Or maybe we’d go to the train station to meet him in the midst of the billowing steam and clank and clatter of steel on steel. All the family had to be there, too. I mean, this was a special time and I needed special things to be going on. But there he was, sound asleep, the house quiet and still. Israel, too must have expected something with a lot more flash and dazzle than what they got. Jesus had no army, no horsemen, no chariots. How could he deliver Israel from their oppressors? This couldn’t be what they had waited for with so much excitement; after all: a peasant showed up when they expected a warrior king. A peasant who begin his work by being baptized by the same John who was announcing him as the be all and end all. Something seemed very wrong with this picture.
But things are often not what they seem. Even though Bubba hadn’t arrived as I expected, when I saw him there on the bed, I was on top of him before he knew what hit him. And you know what he said as he hugged me close, “Hey, little man. I’ve missed you! I’m so glad to see you!” Better than any band or parade or chugging, smoking, clanging train! Better than I could have hoped or imagined. Bubba was home and he was thrilled to see me. It was an unforgettable and extraordinary moment!
And though something seemed wrong with the picture when Jesus arrived, it turned out that it was very right too. Unforgettable. Extraordinary. This story about my brother reminds me that Jesus still shows up just like my brother did—the realization of my expectation but not the way I would have planned. But there’s something else the story helps me with. Being in that expectant frame of mind, but open to all possibilities, is important, not just in Advent, but all the time. It may just be the case, that if you’re always expectant, Jesus may come more often than you can imagine and in ways that will thrill and delight you. It’s at least something to think about as we again prepare to celebrate his first coming.
Peace,
Jerry+
John 1: 6- 8;19- 28
I know he shouldn’t have been, but my brother Roy was my favorite brother. It’s not like I had a lot to choose from, there was only one other, but I chose anyway. Roy is seventeen years older than I am and the other brother, Alfred is fifteen years older. That might have had something to do with it. Given their ages when I was first old enough to have a clue that I had brothers, Roy would have been a young adult, just graduated from high school and working. And Alfred would have been a self absorbed senior in high school. This is probably why they treated me differently, but whatever the reason, it was different enough that I was aware of it. And so, I had a favorite.
Roy had a job as a graphic artist and went to work every day in a clean white dress shirt. At dinner, he was still wearing it and I insisted that Bubba, which was what I called him when I was small, sit next to me at the table. I liked to reach out and touch him. Now think about that a minute. I’m two, feeding myself, and he’s got on a white dress shirt. But he didn’t care, because I was, in his words, his “little man.” In the family picture album, there are pictures of me with him, but never with Alfred. Beginning to get the idea? See why he was my favorite?
When I was barely a year old, Pearl Harbor happened, and by the time I was a little over two WWII was in full rip and Roy was in the Army, in Europe and in harm’s way. My Mom and Dad used a map of Europe to track troop movements they heard from the radio or read in the paper. It helped them feel connected to him in some way. When I was curious about this, they explained to me what a map was and I asked if Bubba had a map. They weren’t sure, but they thought he might. I thought he needed one, so I drew him one which they sent to him. I learned years later that he posted that map in the headquarters company he was assigned to so everybody could see it.
With his being gone, you might expect things would change in the seating around the dinner table. But I wouldn’t hear of it. Bubba had to have his chair—even if we had guests—and it had to be next to mine. It’s not that nobody else paid attention to me or loved me. I had plenty of that. I had a bunch of girl cousins who were my brothers’ ages and they loved to spend time with me. And, of course, I was especially precious to Mom and Dad, because a year or so after Roy left for the military, so did Alfred. I was it now, and with two brothers in danger, you could easily see how I might get lots of attention. No, it wasn’t that I wasn’t loved, it was that I missed this special man who loved spending time with me. I scribbled on paper and called them letters and Mom faithfully mailed them. And in his letters home, he always had something to say to me.
Then one day, we got a telegram. He was coming home! He didn’t know when exactly, but he was on his way. I woke up every morning wanting to know if Bubba was home yet. I went to bed every night asking if it would be tomorrow. The waiting was dreadful, but it was also full of excitement. Any moment, Bubba might be home! I’ve told you this story because I see a connection in it with the story in our Gospel. The people of Israel listening to John must have felt what I felt knowing Bubba was coming and coming any minute. Like me, they were filled with terrible excitement and hope. God, who had loved them, and yet who had felt so far away when they were in exile in Egypt and later in Babylon, was sending a long awaited one with power to restore things to the way they were. The Psalmist wrote about that dark time when God was so far away by saying, in part,
By the rivers of Babylon—
there we sat down and there we wept…
On the willows there we hung our harps…
How could we sing the Lord’s song…?
And now, not only were they back in Israel where they could sing the Lord’s song, but someone was coming to restore things to the way they were meant to be. They rushed to be baptized to prepare for this extraordinary moment which would shortly be upon them. They and I waited with heightened expectation for different things, but expectantly just the same.
One day, as we waited, Mom and I did what we did almost every week. We boarded a trolley and rode downtown to look around and get a bit of lunch at a lunch counter. After an afternoon of adventure, we climbed aboard another trolley and made our way back to the neighborhood, and after a short walk from the trolley stop, she let us into the empty and still house. And there on the bed in the front bedroom was Bubba, still in his Army overcoat, sound asleep.
It wasn’t at all how I imagined it to be. I thought there might be a parade or a band. Or maybe we’d go to the train station to meet him in the midst of the billowing steam and clank and clatter of steel on steel. All the family had to be there, too. I mean, this was a special time and I needed special things to be going on. But there he was, sound asleep, the house quiet and still. Israel, too must have expected something with a lot more flash and dazzle than what they got. Jesus had no army, no horsemen, no chariots. How could he deliver Israel from their oppressors? This couldn’t be what they had waited for with so much excitement; after all: a peasant showed up when they expected a warrior king. A peasant who begin his work by being baptized by the same John who was announcing him as the be all and end all. Something seemed very wrong with this picture.
But things are often not what they seem. Even though Bubba hadn’t arrived as I expected, when I saw him there on the bed, I was on top of him before he knew what hit him. And you know what he said as he hugged me close, “Hey, little man. I’ve missed you! I’m so glad to see you!” Better than any band or parade or chugging, smoking, clanging train! Better than I could have hoped or imagined. Bubba was home and he was thrilled to see me. It was an unforgettable and extraordinary moment!
And though something seemed wrong with the picture when Jesus arrived, it turned out that it was very right too. Unforgettable. Extraordinary. This story about my brother reminds me that Jesus still shows up just like my brother did—the realization of my expectation but not the way I would have planned. But there’s something else the story helps me with. Being in that expectant frame of mind, but open to all possibilities, is important, not just in Advent, but all the time. It may just be the case, that if you’re always expectant, Jesus may come more often than you can imagine and in ways that will thrill and delight you. It’s at least something to think about as we again prepare to celebrate his first coming.
Peace,
Jerry+
Friday, December 5, 2008
Advent 2
Advent is my favorite season, and not just because it ends in Christmas. It's because it's about new beginnings in a way no other season is for me, not even Lent. Here are some thoughts about it.
Isaiah proclaimed that God would send a messenger--a messenger who cries out in the wilderness, “Prepare the way of the Lord.” John’s appearance and announcement centuries later is enough for Mark to be sure that messenger has arrived. These few verses from Mark are filled with expectation! And expectation is so much of what Advent is about.
As I think about Advents past, it seems to me most of us have the expectation part of Advent down pat. Our entire culture has really gotten on board with that part. The expectation of gifts, of a Christmas card from a friend, of a huge holiday meal and a round of parties; the expectation of beautiful trees covered with lights and angels, of family visits, and beautiful worship experiences, these are quintessential Advent expectations. That some of these are viewed with a sense of dread doesn’t overshadow the excitement of others of them for us.
But, John’s mission was not only to announce the coming Messiah, but to call people to prepare their hearts for his arrival. We keep Advent season as our time of preparation. But, have you wondered what does the preparation entail? In John’s theology, a necessary part of that preparation for our encounter with Christ is repentance.
What is the repentance John says is necessary preparation? Our problem with repentance is that it may be very misunderstood. Repentance doesn’t mean penitence as in “godly sorrow for sin.” Repentance is not remorse; it’s not admitting mistakes, nor is it self condemnation. Repentance is an act of will that produces a complete change of mind, a complete change of will, an altered purpose in life.
Once there was a learned and pious man who went to see a Zen teacher. He said to the teacher, “teach me what I need to know to have a meaningful life. I have studied sacred scripture. I have visited the greatest teachers. I have traveled the world looking. But, I haven’t found the answer to a meaningful life. Teach me, please.” The Zen teacher said nothing, but began serving tea. He began to pour tea into his visitor’s cup and kept pouring until it overflowed. Even then, he continued pouring until it ran all over the table and flowed off on the floor. Still he poured. The visitor couldn’t restrain himself and said, “Stop! It’s full. No more will go in!” The Zen teacher then said, “Like this cup, you are full of your own opinions and speculations, full of yourself. How can I teach you anything unless you are empty?”
During our Advent work, if we look deeply, we may find like the learned and pious man, we’re already full. Full of the busyness of the season. Full of the distractions commanding so much of our attention. Full of ourselves. If so, maybe we need to repent in the sense that we need to want to do things in a new way and in the sense that we begin to do things a new way.
Each of us knows we are not, at least in some ways, the person or the Christian we might be. Perhaps the beginning of repentance is to ask, “What holds me down; what holds me back from being the person God longs for me to be?” Maybe it is our love affair with the material and transient. Maybe it is baggage from our past we’ve not unpacked. Maybe we are consumed with our selves in the most selfish sense. Maybe it is thinking we have no need for repentance. If repentance is a change of mind, we have to ask “what changes in my thoughts and attitudes are called for?” If repentance is a change of will, we have to ask, “how can I make God’s will my will?” If repentance is an altered purpose, we have to ask, “for what holy purpose, large or small, have I been called?”
Advent gives us the occasion to struggle with these questions. Honest self examination is never easy or fun. Most of us would just as soon skip it if we can. I know I would. But Advent calls us to a discipline of self examination. Whatever it is that we are full of that will keep Christ from pouring in calls out to be discovered and emptied.
Peace,
Jerry+
Isaiah proclaimed that God would send a messenger--a messenger who cries out in the wilderness, “Prepare the way of the Lord.” John’s appearance and announcement centuries later is enough for Mark to be sure that messenger has arrived. These few verses from Mark are filled with expectation! And expectation is so much of what Advent is about.
As I think about Advents past, it seems to me most of us have the expectation part of Advent down pat. Our entire culture has really gotten on board with that part. The expectation of gifts, of a Christmas card from a friend, of a huge holiday meal and a round of parties; the expectation of beautiful trees covered with lights and angels, of family visits, and beautiful worship experiences, these are quintessential Advent expectations. That some of these are viewed with a sense of dread doesn’t overshadow the excitement of others of them for us.
But, John’s mission was not only to announce the coming Messiah, but to call people to prepare their hearts for his arrival. We keep Advent season as our time of preparation. But, have you wondered what does the preparation entail? In John’s theology, a necessary part of that preparation for our encounter with Christ is repentance.
What is the repentance John says is necessary preparation? Our problem with repentance is that it may be very misunderstood. Repentance doesn’t mean penitence as in “godly sorrow for sin.” Repentance is not remorse; it’s not admitting mistakes, nor is it self condemnation. Repentance is an act of will that produces a complete change of mind, a complete change of will, an altered purpose in life.
Once there was a learned and pious man who went to see a Zen teacher. He said to the teacher, “teach me what I need to know to have a meaningful life. I have studied sacred scripture. I have visited the greatest teachers. I have traveled the world looking. But, I haven’t found the answer to a meaningful life. Teach me, please.” The Zen teacher said nothing, but began serving tea. He began to pour tea into his visitor’s cup and kept pouring until it overflowed. Even then, he continued pouring until it ran all over the table and flowed off on the floor. Still he poured. The visitor couldn’t restrain himself and said, “Stop! It’s full. No more will go in!” The Zen teacher then said, “Like this cup, you are full of your own opinions and speculations, full of yourself. How can I teach you anything unless you are empty?”
During our Advent work, if we look deeply, we may find like the learned and pious man, we’re already full. Full of the busyness of the season. Full of the distractions commanding so much of our attention. Full of ourselves. If so, maybe we need to repent in the sense that we need to want to do things in a new way and in the sense that we begin to do things a new way.
Each of us knows we are not, at least in some ways, the person or the Christian we might be. Perhaps the beginning of repentance is to ask, “What holds me down; what holds me back from being the person God longs for me to be?” Maybe it is our love affair with the material and transient. Maybe it is baggage from our past we’ve not unpacked. Maybe we are consumed with our selves in the most selfish sense. Maybe it is thinking we have no need for repentance. If repentance is a change of mind, we have to ask “what changes in my thoughts and attitudes are called for?” If repentance is a change of will, we have to ask, “how can I make God’s will my will?” If repentance is an altered purpose, we have to ask, “for what holy purpose, large or small, have I been called?”
Advent gives us the occasion to struggle with these questions. Honest self examination is never easy or fun. Most of us would just as soon skip it if we can. I know I would. But Advent calls us to a discipline of self examination. Whatever it is that we are full of that will keep Christ from pouring in calls out to be discovered and emptied.
Peace,
Jerry+
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