070211ser
Luke 6:17-26
There’s a problem with today’s scripture from Luke. The Beatitudes, as we call them, are familiar enough. We’ve heard them before. But that’s not the problem. The problem is that we’d rather hear them from Matthew. We don’t necessarily like Luke’s version.
Luke tells us:
The poor are blessed;
The hungry are blessed;
The weeping and sorrowful are blessed;
The persecuted are blessed.
However
The rich are cursed;
The well-fed are cursed;
The laughing are cursed;
The popular are cursed.
My goodness. It is unsettling. We do prefer Matthew’s version in which the beatitudes are spiritualized. It’s the “poor in sprit” who are blessed; those who “hunger & thirst for righteousness” who are blessed. And Matthew leaves off the curses completely.
As much as Matthew’s version of this sermon is spiritualized, Luke’s version is earthy and unsettling. Luke leaves us wondering exactly where we stand. Matthew allows some wiggle room for us to be included. And we like that better.
It’s important to note that Luke’s beatitudes occur immediately after healings. Jesus does the word as well as speaks it. It’s active as well as audible; bringing more power to the sermon.
Jesus recognizes that he’s come to a broken world; a world of tears and actual hunger and aching poverty. A world that hasn’t changed much in the past 2,000 years, I might add. Jesus knows that he cannot possible heal the whole world but brings comfort to those who are hungry, who are sorrowing, who are poor, who are persecuted.
And he gets a dig in at those who are on the opposite side of the coin: the wealthy, the well-fed, the happy, the popular. Woe to them, Jesus says. And I don’t know about you, but I identify more with the 2nd set of people than with the 1st set. And I’m not sure where that leaves me.
The entirety of Luke’s gospel is all about economic justice as we would call it today. The lowest of the low are exalted in Luke’s gospel. Mary, a simple hand-maiden as she describes herself, is chosen as the one who will bear the messiah. The angels at Jesus’ birth, appear to shepherds, the poorest of the society at the time. And that’s just the beginning of Luke’s gospel. Throughout Luke’s gospel, Jesus expresses his concern for the poor. And these beatitudes are no different; this concern for the poor comes through loud and clear.
According to biblical scholar Rev. John Shearman, “The recent work of the Jesus Scholars group, *The Complete Gospels,* (edited by Robert J. Miller, Polebridge Press, 1992), gives a different slant to both the Beatitudes and the Woes. The word "Blessed" (Greek =*makarios*) becomes ‘Congratulations, "because it "better expresses the performative language of the Beatitudes, which grant the recipient recognition of good fortune.’ Similarly, ‘Woe to you...’ becomes ‘Damn you...’, giving a more forceful if colloquial meaning to what is essentially a total condemnation of those who seek riches, pleasures and public prestige for their own sake. This change brings the sense of prophetic judgment more effectively to our modern ear.”
As a church we are happy and full and doing okay. And clearly as a society, we would ignore these verses of Luke’s as we raise up the rich and exclude the poor. We don’t like this “damn you” approach of Luke’s nor do we like being excluded from the blessings. We’re filled with those who adulate shows such as “Who Wants to be a Millionaire.” Lotteries, which Allen’s sister describes as a tax on those who are bad at math, are all the rage as many in our culture attempt to become rich fast.
Woe on us when we treasure wealth more than Jesus’ words; when we adulate popularity and happiness over doing the right thing. These beatitudes of Jesus begin the sermon on the plain in Luke’s gospel; a sermon in which Jesus lays out the ethics for living as a follower of Christ. This is just the beginning.
We, as Jesus did, are to identify with the poor and the sorrowing. That’s to whom we’re sent and are to minister to. That’s who we are to be among as Jesus’ followers.
We may not like hearing these words. But hear them we must. God’s preference, throughout the Bible, as I have said before, is with the poor. Jesus makes that clear in today’s reading.
We have choices to make; choices about what we will do with our wealth, with our food, with our popularity. These choices, these decisions are made on a daily, sometimes hourly, basis. We make them without thinking about them.
Jesus calls us to think about them; to avoid the curses and join in on the blessings. Make your choices wisely.
28 January 2007
1 Corinthians 13:1-13
Are you always patient? Always kind? Are you never envious or boastful or arrogant or rude? Do you not insist on your own way? Are you never irritable or resentful?
It’s a tall order to love, according to Paul, who authored the words about love that we heard this morning. But I think that Paul hits the nail on the head this time. No one ever said that being Christian wouldn’t involve tall orders.
The trouble with this scripture is that it’s too familiar. We’ve already assigned it to the Hallmark division of our minds and have it tucked away for Valentine’s Day and weddings. But we’d miss its power if we were to do that. Though, yes, it does apply to those august occasions when romantic love is at the forefront, this passage also applies to every moment of our faith-filled life.
And it applied most assuredly to life in the church at Corinth to whom Paul was addressing this letter. For this church was in need of some love in its midst. Though Paul and God loved this group at Corinth, they apparently couldn’t find it in themselves to love each other.
If you remember from last week’s reading in Corinthians 12, Paul compares the church to the body. The body of Christ is just like a human body. We can’t have a body that’s just an eye, because we wouldn’t be able to hear. The head can’t do without the feet. The body of Christ is made up of many parts, as well it should be. Paul reminds the church in Corinth and us that there is a need for all the parts of Christ’s body: teachers, preachers, those who speak in tongues, those who interpret those tongues, etc.
There was clearly a lot going on in that church at Corinth at the time. We can infer from Paul’s writings that there were factions within the church, all arguing about who had supremacy. Some were followers of Apollos, a church leader of the time. Some put themselves in Paul’s corner. Others were claiming allegiance to another leader while some felt that they were followers of Christ. And each group tried to gain preeminence over the other.
There were deep divisions in Corinth. And Paul knew it. He addresses this letter to them in an attempt to heal some of those divisions. First he says that no group has supremacy and all have gifts that are needed in Christ’s body. Then he goes on to explain how they might get along: with love.
That’s the context in which we should read this chapter: as the antidote to divisions and arguments within the church. Love holds Christ’s body together. Love is the glue that keeps the church as one, in spite of differences, in spite of arguments, in spite of divergent thoughts and ways.
The folks in Corinth really needed this message. They were split into several factions and all of them were arguing for the top spot. They needed this message of love.
What’s that got to do with a congregation in San Carlos almost 2,000 years later? We don’t have followers of different leaders. We don’t argue about the gifts of the members of our church. We are relatively conflict free, aren’t we? So why do we need to hear this message on this January day in 2007?
Well, let me ask you again: are you always patient and kind? Do you never boast? Are you never rude? Do you bear all things, believe all things, hope all things and endure all things?
Perhaps we do need to hear this. Perhaps we may act this way in our congregation but need to remember to act it out in the world. We can do love with our friends and family but do we find love in our relationship with strangers? Can you truly say you love a street person or the person who just cut you off on the freeway?
This love thing is difficult, no matter what the upcoming Valentine’s Day cards say. It takes work to love one another: even those we are supposed to automatically love. It takes patience and kindness and all those other attributes that Paul listed. It takes overlooking dissimilarities and accepting the differing gifts that are needed to make up our world.
Love is talked about, discussed and sung about. John and Paul, not the apostles but the Beatles, remind us that “love is all you need.” And Hal David and Burt Bacharach proclaim that “What the World Needs Now is Love.” Of course, there are myriads of other songs I could quote. And that’s part of the problem. While the sentiments I’ve just quoted are true, many reduce love to just the romantic feeling of being attracted to one other person.
What Paul is getting at is different. It’s the love that transcends barriers and overcomes the arguments that we humans get into. It’s loving the person who is least loveable.
This is all a mirror of God’s love; the love that God has for each one of us. The God who loves unconditionally; who loves us through and in spite of our foibles and failings. Can we love each other as God loves us?
Well, the very next words that Paul writes, in chapter 14 of 1st Corinthians, are “Aim for love.” Paul recognizes that we are human and we may not reach the perfect love of God in our attempts at loving each other. We may try to be unconditional in our love but we usually attach conditions to our love. Conditions which limit our love…and our lovability. For that’s the thing about love; the more we do it, the more lovable we become. And we all want to be lovable, right?
Be patient and kind. Don’t be envious or boastful; arrogant or rude. Don’t insist on your own way nor be irritable or resentful. Don’t rejoice in wrongdoing but rejoice in the truth. Bear all things, believe all things, hope all things, endure all things. In short, love.
Are you always patient? Always kind? Are you never envious or boastful or arrogant or rude? Do you not insist on your own way? Are you never irritable or resentful?
It’s a tall order to love, according to Paul, who authored the words about love that we heard this morning. But I think that Paul hits the nail on the head this time. No one ever said that being Christian wouldn’t involve tall orders.
The trouble with this scripture is that it’s too familiar. We’ve already assigned it to the Hallmark division of our minds and have it tucked away for Valentine’s Day and weddings. But we’d miss its power if we were to do that. Though, yes, it does apply to those august occasions when romantic love is at the forefront, this passage also applies to every moment of our faith-filled life.
And it applied most assuredly to life in the church at Corinth to whom Paul was addressing this letter. For this church was in need of some love in its midst. Though Paul and God loved this group at Corinth, they apparently couldn’t find it in themselves to love each other.
If you remember from last week’s reading in Corinthians 12, Paul compares the church to the body. The body of Christ is just like a human body. We can’t have a body that’s just an eye, because we wouldn’t be able to hear. The head can’t do without the feet. The body of Christ is made up of many parts, as well it should be. Paul reminds the church in Corinth and us that there is a need for all the parts of Christ’s body: teachers, preachers, those who speak in tongues, those who interpret those tongues, etc.
There was clearly a lot going on in that church at Corinth at the time. We can infer from Paul’s writings that there were factions within the church, all arguing about who had supremacy. Some were followers of Apollos, a church leader of the time. Some put themselves in Paul’s corner. Others were claiming allegiance to another leader while some felt that they were followers of Christ. And each group tried to gain preeminence over the other.
There were deep divisions in Corinth. And Paul knew it. He addresses this letter to them in an attempt to heal some of those divisions. First he says that no group has supremacy and all have gifts that are needed in Christ’s body. Then he goes on to explain how they might get along: with love.
That’s the context in which we should read this chapter: as the antidote to divisions and arguments within the church. Love holds Christ’s body together. Love is the glue that keeps the church as one, in spite of differences, in spite of arguments, in spite of divergent thoughts and ways.
The folks in Corinth really needed this message. They were split into several factions and all of them were arguing for the top spot. They needed this message of love.
What’s that got to do with a congregation in San Carlos almost 2,000 years later? We don’t have followers of different leaders. We don’t argue about the gifts of the members of our church. We are relatively conflict free, aren’t we? So why do we need to hear this message on this January day in 2007?
Well, let me ask you again: are you always patient and kind? Do you never boast? Are you never rude? Do you bear all things, believe all things, hope all things and endure all things?
Perhaps we do need to hear this. Perhaps we may act this way in our congregation but need to remember to act it out in the world. We can do love with our friends and family but do we find love in our relationship with strangers? Can you truly say you love a street person or the person who just cut you off on the freeway?
This love thing is difficult, no matter what the upcoming Valentine’s Day cards say. It takes work to love one another: even those we are supposed to automatically love. It takes patience and kindness and all those other attributes that Paul listed. It takes overlooking dissimilarities and accepting the differing gifts that are needed to make up our world.
Love is talked about, discussed and sung about. John and Paul, not the apostles but the Beatles, remind us that “love is all you need.” And Hal David and Burt Bacharach proclaim that “What the World Needs Now is Love.” Of course, there are myriads of other songs I could quote. And that’s part of the problem. While the sentiments I’ve just quoted are true, many reduce love to just the romantic feeling of being attracted to one other person.
What Paul is getting at is different. It’s the love that transcends barriers and overcomes the arguments that we humans get into. It’s loving the person who is least loveable.
This is all a mirror of God’s love; the love that God has for each one of us. The God who loves unconditionally; who loves us through and in spite of our foibles and failings. Can we love each other as God loves us?
Well, the very next words that Paul writes, in chapter 14 of 1st Corinthians, are “Aim for love.” Paul recognizes that we are human and we may not reach the perfect love of God in our attempts at loving each other. We may try to be unconditional in our love but we usually attach conditions to our love. Conditions which limit our love…and our lovability. For that’s the thing about love; the more we do it, the more lovable we become. And we all want to be lovable, right?
Be patient and kind. Don’t be envious or boastful; arrogant or rude. Don’t insist on your own way nor be irritable or resentful. Don’t rejoice in wrongdoing but rejoice in the truth. Bear all things, believe all things, hope all things, endure all things. In short, love.
21 January 2007
Luke 4:14-21
What does it mean to be filled with the Holy Spirit? What does it look like when one has the power of the Spirit within them? Does it mean speaking in tongues and/or ecstatic movement by the one filled with the Spirit? Is there a noticeable physical change to one who has the power of the Spirit?
Today we heard about Jesus preaching in his own synagogue. He’s come home after his baptism and the temptations in the desert. According to Luke’s gospel, he hasn’t started his ministry yet; this is the beginning of it right here, when he gets up to preach in that Nazareth synagogue.
The synagogue was the local meeting place, church and school. Jesus would have spent many hours in this synagogue as a young man and while growing up. It was a gathering place for community meeting, likely only for the men of the community. But these people would have known Jesus and next week we find out that, indeed, they do know him, all too well.
But right now we’re focused on Jesus preaching in the synagogue. And, according to Bruce Prewer’s website, there were certain things done at the synagogue. The leader of the synagogue or president was called the hazzan. He was the person in charge of the worship. The typical meeting at a synagogue went something like this: they began with the “shema” or “Hear O Israel, the lord your God is one God” and then the prayers. This was followed by the “parashah” which was a set reading of the law. Then came the “haphtarah,” which was a free reading selected by the speaker of the day. The hazzan selected someone to be the speaker who chose the haphtarah. After the haphtarah was read, the selected person would then sit in the speaker’s chair and present the sermon. (Yes, he got to sit.) On this particular day, Jesus was asked by the person in charge to read that free reading, the haphtarah, and he selected a text from Isaiah.
But before all this happened, remember that our scripture reading began with the fact that Jesus was filled with the power of the Holy Spirit. And that’s where I began this sermon. What does one look like who is filled with the Holy Spirit? Well, we only have to look at this story to know.
Because once again we have Jesus as our example. “Then Jesus, filled with the power of the Spirit, returned to Galilee.” What do we make of this, that Jesus finds himself filled with the Spirit and returns and immediately preaches the sermon of which we heard the beginning?
Well, let’s look at what Jesus, filled with the Spirit, says. The scripture he quotes is, as I said, from Isaiah. “He has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” That’s what he’s on about. That’s what he is here to do, filled with the Spirit.
That’s what we’re called to do when we are filled with the Spirit. That’s our call as people of faith in response to the gift of the Spirit. We don’t have to participate in ecstatic dancing or speak in tongues. We don’t have to expect that we will go through cataclysmic events when we find we are filled with the Spirit.
No, we simply have to bring good news to the poor; to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind; to let the oppressed go free; to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor. That’s all. When we are filled with the Spirit we are, simply put, on about the work of justice in our world. That, following Jesus’ example, is our sign of the Spirit in our midst and in our souls.
Takes a lot of pressure off, huh? We don’t have to prove anything by ecstatic dancing. We aren’t expected to speak in tongues or anything like that if we follow Jesus’ example.
Just do justice. Hmmmm, kind of makes you want to go through the other things, doesn’t it? There is no “just do” when it comes to justice, is there? There is hard work and plenty of it when it comes to doing justice. But if we are to follow the example of Jesus, that’s where we’re stuck.
We need to bring good news to the poor. And what good news might that be? That the world seems tilted against them? That a tiny percentage of the world controls amazing amounts of the world’s wealth? That we tend to ignore them when it comes to our governmental policies? Well, the good news is that God cares about them as much, if not more, as God cares about the rest of us. But the good news would really be that our government is looking out for them as is called for in our Judeo-Christian ethic.
And we need to proclaim release to the captives and sight to the blind. This in a state in which we house more captives than anywhere else? Where we continually seem to be spending money on new prisons while ignoring the root causes of crime and violence? The release that the captives need to hear is that we’ve solved the problems of poverty and racism once and for all. How are we to do that?
And we’re to let the oppressed go free? This in a world in which there seem to be oppressed people around every corner? Oppression is how we keep people in their place and keep the playing field uneven so that the haves can continue to have at the expense of the have nots. Challenging the system of oppression that keeps anyone who is different from the ruling class down and out is a tall order. It will take changing centuries of societal patterns.
Whew! If we are indeed filled with the Spirit we do have a lot of work to do. But that’s just the point. We have the Spirit with us to empower us. We have God on our side. So challenging those century-old patterns is nothing compared to God’s power.
The Spirit of God is upon us to be what Jesus would have us be: to have us be the people of this earth that make a difference and cause justice to happen. There are people on the margins; children who need tutoring; families without homes; people who don’t know God’s love; prisoners who need to know that society cares about them; and myriads of other ways to use the energy that the Spirit gives us.
“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,” Jesus said. The Spirit of the Lord is upon us to proclaim good news to the poor. May it be so.
What does it mean to be filled with the Holy Spirit? What does it look like when one has the power of the Spirit within them? Does it mean speaking in tongues and/or ecstatic movement by the one filled with the Spirit? Is there a noticeable physical change to one who has the power of the Spirit?
Today we heard about Jesus preaching in his own synagogue. He’s come home after his baptism and the temptations in the desert. According to Luke’s gospel, he hasn’t started his ministry yet; this is the beginning of it right here, when he gets up to preach in that Nazareth synagogue.
The synagogue was the local meeting place, church and school. Jesus would have spent many hours in this synagogue as a young man and while growing up. It was a gathering place for community meeting, likely only for the men of the community. But these people would have known Jesus and next week we find out that, indeed, they do know him, all too well.
But right now we’re focused on Jesus preaching in the synagogue. And, according to Bruce Prewer’s website, there were certain things done at the synagogue. The leader of the synagogue or president was called the hazzan. He was the person in charge of the worship. The typical meeting at a synagogue went something like this: they began with the “shema” or “Hear O Israel, the lord your God is one God” and then the prayers. This was followed by the “parashah” which was a set reading of the law. Then came the “haphtarah,” which was a free reading selected by the speaker of the day. The hazzan selected someone to be the speaker who chose the haphtarah. After the haphtarah was read, the selected person would then sit in the speaker’s chair and present the sermon. (Yes, he got to sit.) On this particular day, Jesus was asked by the person in charge to read that free reading, the haphtarah, and he selected a text from Isaiah.
But before all this happened, remember that our scripture reading began with the fact that Jesus was filled with the power of the Holy Spirit. And that’s where I began this sermon. What does one look like who is filled with the Holy Spirit? Well, we only have to look at this story to know.
Because once again we have Jesus as our example. “Then Jesus, filled with the power of the Spirit, returned to Galilee.” What do we make of this, that Jesus finds himself filled with the Spirit and returns and immediately preaches the sermon of which we heard the beginning?
Well, let’s look at what Jesus, filled with the Spirit, says. The scripture he quotes is, as I said, from Isaiah. “He has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor.” That’s what he’s on about. That’s what he is here to do, filled with the Spirit.
That’s what we’re called to do when we are filled with the Spirit. That’s our call as people of faith in response to the gift of the Spirit. We don’t have to participate in ecstatic dancing or speak in tongues. We don’t have to expect that we will go through cataclysmic events when we find we are filled with the Spirit.
No, we simply have to bring good news to the poor; to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind; to let the oppressed go free; to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favor. That’s all. When we are filled with the Spirit we are, simply put, on about the work of justice in our world. That, following Jesus’ example, is our sign of the Spirit in our midst and in our souls.
Takes a lot of pressure off, huh? We don’t have to prove anything by ecstatic dancing. We aren’t expected to speak in tongues or anything like that if we follow Jesus’ example.
Just do justice. Hmmmm, kind of makes you want to go through the other things, doesn’t it? There is no “just do” when it comes to justice, is there? There is hard work and plenty of it when it comes to doing justice. But if we are to follow the example of Jesus, that’s where we’re stuck.
We need to bring good news to the poor. And what good news might that be? That the world seems tilted against them? That a tiny percentage of the world controls amazing amounts of the world’s wealth? That we tend to ignore them when it comes to our governmental policies? Well, the good news is that God cares about them as much, if not more, as God cares about the rest of us. But the good news would really be that our government is looking out for them as is called for in our Judeo-Christian ethic.
And we need to proclaim release to the captives and sight to the blind. This in a state in which we house more captives than anywhere else? Where we continually seem to be spending money on new prisons while ignoring the root causes of crime and violence? The release that the captives need to hear is that we’ve solved the problems of poverty and racism once and for all. How are we to do that?
And we’re to let the oppressed go free? This in a world in which there seem to be oppressed people around every corner? Oppression is how we keep people in their place and keep the playing field uneven so that the haves can continue to have at the expense of the have nots. Challenging the system of oppression that keeps anyone who is different from the ruling class down and out is a tall order. It will take changing centuries of societal patterns.
Whew! If we are indeed filled with the Spirit we do have a lot of work to do. But that’s just the point. We have the Spirit with us to empower us. We have God on our side. So challenging those century-old patterns is nothing compared to God’s power.
The Spirit of God is upon us to be what Jesus would have us be: to have us be the people of this earth that make a difference and cause justice to happen. There are people on the margins; children who need tutoring; families without homes; people who don’t know God’s love; prisoners who need to know that society cares about them; and myriads of other ways to use the energy that the Spirit gives us.
“The Spirit of the Lord is upon me,” Jesus said. The Spirit of the Lord is upon us to proclaim good news to the poor. May it be so.
7 January 2007
Matthew 2:1-12
This reading from Matthew is familiar. Too familiar perhaps. It’s a story well-told. We hear it and our minds race to Christmas cards that we’ve received showing three elegantly clad kings on camels with a small city in the background with a bright star shining overhead. But let’s think seriously about this scripture for a moment. It’s one that deserves some attention.
We tend to conflate the two stories of Christmas, putting together Luke’s version of the angels’ appearance to the shepherds and with Matthew’s tale of the wise men coming to pay homage to the newborn king. Each story has a separate viewpoint and a separate lesson to tell.
Luke, for instance, brings the message of Jesus first and foremost to the poorest of the poor. Luke’s angels bypass the ruling hierarchy and the religious leaders of the day and go to the lowest members of the society at the time. God is concerned for the poor, Luke says. God comes for everyone, including and especially for those who are usually excluded.
Matthew has a different bent. Not that Matthew says that God came to earth only for the rich and powerful. Far from it. It would be wrong to state that Jesus’ concern for the poor is ever far from present in any stories about him.
But Matthew has a particular audience to think about. Matthew’s gospel, the scholars have reckoned, was written at the end of the 1st century. This is after the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem by the occupying Roman forces.
There had been a great conflict throughout the first century between James and Paul. James and his followers wanted to keep the message of Christ for the Jews. James would have kept the followers of Jesus good practicing Jews.
By contrast, Paul felt that the message of Jesus was for a wider audience. He wanted to take the message beyond Jerusalem and Judea. He is famous for traveling to the Gentiles with this message of God’s love, redemption and grace through Jesus Christ.
This conflict did not end with the death of James and Paul around the year 60 either. In fact, some think the argument may have intensified.
Then in the year 72 the Temple was destroyed and the Jews were dispersed throughout the empire. Jerusalem was no longer the center of the worship of the Jewish faith. The synagogue took on more importance. And the earliest forms of Christianity followed along and through necessity spread into Gentile lands.
But in the meantime, Paul’s disciples continued to spread the gospel in Gentile lands also. And it was for these dispersed Jews and Gentile Christians that Matthew’s gospel was written.
And how does Matthew tell the story of Jesus’ birth? By bringing in outsiders—Gentiles—to worship the newborn baby. Matthew is putting his stamp of approval on non-Jews. By bringing in these visitors from outside Judea, Matthew is letting his original readers, as well as us, know that there is a wide world out there and God’s love is for all.
These days we’re hearing a lot about all of the world’s religions. Interreligious dialogue is occurring at many levels and we’re becoming accustomed to hearing more and more about Islam, Sufism, Buddhism, Hinduism and the other various religions that people on earth follow. In fact, when we became a congregation of The Center of Progressive Christianity, one of the 8 points we discussed was that “By calling ourselves progressive, we mean we are Christians who...Recognize the faithfulness of other people who have other names for the way to God's realm, and acknowledge that their ways are true for them, as our ways are true for us.”
The ones whom we remember today—the so-called Wise Men from the East—were not Christian and in fact, likely never became part of The Way or the earliest forms of the Christian church. But they worshipped the Jews’ God as found in a small baby born on earth almost 2000 years ago.
Matthew reminds us that there are other ways to worship God through this passage this morning. We are not alone in our worship of God. The way we worship the Almighty One may vary, in fact what we call the Holy One varies. But we worship the One who created us and loves us.
Unfortunately, lately, other religions have been getting a bad name. With the rise of Christian fundamentalism and the rise of Islamic fundamentalism, we are finding ourselves in the midst of a clash between these two religions. We’ve also seen signs of anti-Semitism and a linking of our culture with the Christian faith.
We are off course and moving away from Matthew’s gospel if we are to claim God as our own and try to keep God away from other faiths. God is bigger than one faith’s truth can contain. As humans, we have to recognize our limitations, which includes our faith’s limitations. This does not mean that we abandon our own Christian faith. God is revealed to us through the one named Jesus who was born in the tiny little town of Bethlehem. The same one that the Wise Men came seeking, following the star.
This reading from Matthew is familiar. Too familiar perhaps. It’s a story well-told. We hear it and our minds race to Christmas cards that we’ve received showing three elegantly clad kings on camels with a small city in the background with a bright star shining overhead. But let’s think seriously about this scripture for a moment. It’s one that deserves some attention.
We tend to conflate the two stories of Christmas, putting together Luke’s version of the angels’ appearance to the shepherds and with Matthew’s tale of the wise men coming to pay homage to the newborn king. Each story has a separate viewpoint and a separate lesson to tell.
Luke, for instance, brings the message of Jesus first and foremost to the poorest of the poor. Luke’s angels bypass the ruling hierarchy and the religious leaders of the day and go to the lowest members of the society at the time. God is concerned for the poor, Luke says. God comes for everyone, including and especially for those who are usually excluded.
Matthew has a different bent. Not that Matthew says that God came to earth only for the rich and powerful. Far from it. It would be wrong to state that Jesus’ concern for the poor is ever far from present in any stories about him.
But Matthew has a particular audience to think about. Matthew’s gospel, the scholars have reckoned, was written at the end of the 1st century. This is after the destruction of the Temple in Jerusalem by the occupying Roman forces.
There had been a great conflict throughout the first century between James and Paul. James and his followers wanted to keep the message of Christ for the Jews. James would have kept the followers of Jesus good practicing Jews.
By contrast, Paul felt that the message of Jesus was for a wider audience. He wanted to take the message beyond Jerusalem and Judea. He is famous for traveling to the Gentiles with this message of God’s love, redemption and grace through Jesus Christ.
This conflict did not end with the death of James and Paul around the year 60 either. In fact, some think the argument may have intensified.
Then in the year 72 the Temple was destroyed and the Jews were dispersed throughout the empire. Jerusalem was no longer the center of the worship of the Jewish faith. The synagogue took on more importance. And the earliest forms of Christianity followed along and through necessity spread into Gentile lands.
But in the meantime, Paul’s disciples continued to spread the gospel in Gentile lands also. And it was for these dispersed Jews and Gentile Christians that Matthew’s gospel was written.
And how does Matthew tell the story of Jesus’ birth? By bringing in outsiders—Gentiles—to worship the newborn baby. Matthew is putting his stamp of approval on non-Jews. By bringing in these visitors from outside Judea, Matthew is letting his original readers, as well as us, know that there is a wide world out there and God’s love is for all.
These days we’re hearing a lot about all of the world’s religions. Interreligious dialogue is occurring at many levels and we’re becoming accustomed to hearing more and more about Islam, Sufism, Buddhism, Hinduism and the other various religions that people on earth follow. In fact, when we became a congregation of The Center of Progressive Christianity, one of the 8 points we discussed was that “By calling ourselves progressive, we mean we are Christians who...Recognize the faithfulness of other people who have other names for the way to God's realm, and acknowledge that their ways are true for them, as our ways are true for us.”
The ones whom we remember today—the so-called Wise Men from the East—were not Christian and in fact, likely never became part of The Way or the earliest forms of the Christian church. But they worshipped the Jews’ God as found in a small baby born on earth almost 2000 years ago.
Matthew reminds us that there are other ways to worship God through this passage this morning. We are not alone in our worship of God. The way we worship the Almighty One may vary, in fact what we call the Holy One varies. But we worship the One who created us and loves us.
Unfortunately, lately, other religions have been getting a bad name. With the rise of Christian fundamentalism and the rise of Islamic fundamentalism, we are finding ourselves in the midst of a clash between these two religions. We’ve also seen signs of anti-Semitism and a linking of our culture with the Christian faith.
We are off course and moving away from Matthew’s gospel if we are to claim God as our own and try to keep God away from other faiths. God is bigger than one faith’s truth can contain. As humans, we have to recognize our limitations, which includes our faith’s limitations. This does not mean that we abandon our own Christian faith. God is revealed to us through the one named Jesus who was born in the tiny little town of Bethlehem. The same one that the Wise Men came seeking, following the star.
17 December 2006
061217ser
Zephaniah 3:14-20; Philippians 4:4-7; Luke 3:7-18
I found a story on the internet this week from Barry Robinson, the author of a website entitled “Keeping the Faith in Babylon” that is used in relation to our scripture readings. Robinson writes that one of his favorite stories is the legend of "How St. Francis Taught The People of Gubbio To Feed Their Wolf." It is a strangely humorous story with layer upon layer of meaning according to Robinson.
In a nutshell, the people of Gubbio have a problem. The bloody remains of some of their townsfolk start showing up on the streets of their beautiful city when people awake in the morning. Since the people of Gubbio are very proud people, they are convinced that "a stranger" passing through must be responsible for the terrible crime. Nevertheless, they begin to "lock" their doors at night. When more deaths follow, the same denial "that no one in Gubbio could be responsible for such a thing" is expressed over and over again.
And then, someone sees a wolf wandering the streets of Gubbio one night after everyone has retired; and the people of Gubbio realize that there is a wolf living in the dark woods on one side of Gubbio. Of course, this could not be their wolf; because they never asked this wolf to come to Gubbio. Immediately, they begin to find ways to dispatch this wolf.
After a number of futile attempts, the people get desperate enough to approach the holy man of Assisi who has a reputation for being able "to talk to animals".
St. Francis "speaks" to the wolf and gives the people what appears to be some strange and, not entirely, welcome advice.
He tells the people of Gubbio that they must "feed" their wolf.
At the first, the people are not impressed with this suggestion and begin to wonder why they ever approached the holy man in the first place. And, then, something miraculous happens. Bit by bit, people begin to leave food out for the wolf as he prowls the streets of Gubbio. The violent deaths cease and it is not long before every man, woman and child has learned how to "feed their wolf." As a result, the people of Gubbio are transformed.
They become more easy-going, less arrogant human beings.
Robinson says that people who hear this story for the first time have a variety of reactions to it.
Some are immediately amused by the story and identify with the proud people of Gubbio. They recognize that haughtiness that has to "blame it on strangers" when something goes wrong. The denial and avoidance of the townsfolk are all too familiar. In laughing at the people of Gubbio as they come to terms with their wolf, they realize that they themselves can find healing and freedom by embracing the negative aspects of themselves, their community and their church, that part of the story that is symbolized by the wonderfully vague image of "the wolf."
Other people, however, just don't get it. Or worse, they are offended by the suggestion of a self-identity that incorporates rather than excludes "their" wolf. They decline the invitation to befriend and feed that which they fear most in themselves and each other and miss the opportunity to come to a new and healthier understanding of themselves.
We get equally confounding advice from scripture this third week of Advent. This is Gaudete or Rejoice Sunday, a time when we stop the waiting and watching and preparing of advent and just rejoice.
Paul’s message to us this morning from Philippians is to “rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice.”
And from the ancient prophet Zephaniah we are told, “Sing aloud, O daughter Zion; shout, O Israel! Rejoice and exult with all your heart, O daughter Jerusalem!”
Those sound like appropriate Yuletide scriptures. Rejoicing and singing abound.
But then we reach the gospel lesson where John the Baptist preaches, “Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.”
We’re reminded that God is not Santa Claus who knows whether we’re naughty or nice but Jesus who comes among us and calls us to turn around and follow him. Like the good folk of Gubbio, we need to recognize and feed our wolf. Feeding our wolf, means recognizing those parts that need to be chopped down and thrown into the fire so that we may properly rejoice.
Rejoicing requires that we are not afraid to face our own wolves and feed them so they don’t do further damage. It’s looking deep within ourselves and recognizing the wolf side of us that we don’t like to show in public.
Once we have faced and fed our wolf, we are ready to rejoice. We can then get on with the joy that is part of our lives. We can be like Paul, who writing from prison says that he is ready to rejoice and that in any situation he has learned to be happy.
The Good News of Advent is that God has come, is coming and will continue to come among us, calling us to repentance and to turning ourselves around, as John did among those first century crowds who came to him for baptism.
This advent, take time to rejoice. The waiting and preparing will continue but do so in joy. “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice!”
Zephaniah 3:14-20; Philippians 4:4-7; Luke 3:7-18
I found a story on the internet this week from Barry Robinson, the author of a website entitled “Keeping the Faith in Babylon” that is used in relation to our scripture readings. Robinson writes that one of his favorite stories is the legend of "How St. Francis Taught The People of Gubbio To Feed Their Wolf." It is a strangely humorous story with layer upon layer of meaning according to Robinson.
In a nutshell, the people of Gubbio have a problem. The bloody remains of some of their townsfolk start showing up on the streets of their beautiful city when people awake in the morning. Since the people of Gubbio are very proud people, they are convinced that "a stranger" passing through must be responsible for the terrible crime. Nevertheless, they begin to "lock" their doors at night. When more deaths follow, the same denial "that no one in Gubbio could be responsible for such a thing" is expressed over and over again.
And then, someone sees a wolf wandering the streets of Gubbio one night after everyone has retired; and the people of Gubbio realize that there is a wolf living in the dark woods on one side of Gubbio. Of course, this could not be their wolf; because they never asked this wolf to come to Gubbio. Immediately, they begin to find ways to dispatch this wolf.
After a number of futile attempts, the people get desperate enough to approach the holy man of Assisi who has a reputation for being able "to talk to animals".
St. Francis "speaks" to the wolf and gives the people what appears to be some strange and, not entirely, welcome advice.
He tells the people of Gubbio that they must "feed" their wolf.
At the first, the people are not impressed with this suggestion and begin to wonder why they ever approached the holy man in the first place. And, then, something miraculous happens. Bit by bit, people begin to leave food out for the wolf as he prowls the streets of Gubbio. The violent deaths cease and it is not long before every man, woman and child has learned how to "feed their wolf." As a result, the people of Gubbio are transformed.
They become more easy-going, less arrogant human beings.
Robinson says that people who hear this story for the first time have a variety of reactions to it.
Some are immediately amused by the story and identify with the proud people of Gubbio. They recognize that haughtiness that has to "blame it on strangers" when something goes wrong. The denial and avoidance of the townsfolk are all too familiar. In laughing at the people of Gubbio as they come to terms with their wolf, they realize that they themselves can find healing and freedom by embracing the negative aspects of themselves, their community and their church, that part of the story that is symbolized by the wonderfully vague image of "the wolf."
Other people, however, just don't get it. Or worse, they are offended by the suggestion of a self-identity that incorporates rather than excludes "their" wolf. They decline the invitation to befriend and feed that which they fear most in themselves and each other and miss the opportunity to come to a new and healthier understanding of themselves.
We get equally confounding advice from scripture this third week of Advent. This is Gaudete or Rejoice Sunday, a time when we stop the waiting and watching and preparing of advent and just rejoice.
Paul’s message to us this morning from Philippians is to “rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice.”
And from the ancient prophet Zephaniah we are told, “Sing aloud, O daughter Zion; shout, O Israel! Rejoice and exult with all your heart, O daughter Jerusalem!”
Those sound like appropriate Yuletide scriptures. Rejoicing and singing abound.
But then we reach the gospel lesson where John the Baptist preaches, “Even now the ax is lying at the root of the trees; every tree therefore that does not bear good fruit is cut down and thrown into the fire.”
We’re reminded that God is not Santa Claus who knows whether we’re naughty or nice but Jesus who comes among us and calls us to turn around and follow him. Like the good folk of Gubbio, we need to recognize and feed our wolf. Feeding our wolf, means recognizing those parts that need to be chopped down and thrown into the fire so that we may properly rejoice.
Rejoicing requires that we are not afraid to face our own wolves and feed them so they don’t do further damage. It’s looking deep within ourselves and recognizing the wolf side of us that we don’t like to show in public.
Once we have faced and fed our wolf, we are ready to rejoice. We can then get on with the joy that is part of our lives. We can be like Paul, who writing from prison says that he is ready to rejoice and that in any situation he has learned to be happy.
The Good News of Advent is that God has come, is coming and will continue to come among us, calling us to repentance and to turning ourselves around, as John did among those first century crowds who came to him for baptism.
This advent, take time to rejoice. The waiting and preparing will continue but do so in joy. “Rejoice in the Lord always; again I will say, Rejoice!”
10 December 2006
Malachi 3:1-4; Luke 1:68-79; Luke 3:1-6
We get two views of John in our readings this morning so attention must be paid. First there is the song/prophesy that his father sings in the first reading from Luke upon the birth of John. And then secondly, there is the introduction to John’s ministry that we heard in the 2nd Luke reading.
As part of the nativity narratives, the birth of John is included. We’re told that Jesus and John are related. Mary and Elizabeth are cousins, likely. John is born late in life for Elizabeth and her husband Zechariah. They had previously been childless but in their later years John came along. And Zechariah knew that this was a special child from the beginning, thus his song that we read together this morning.
Then we get the introduction, a few chapters later, of John’s ministry: a ministry of preparing the way for Jesus. John was calling people to repentance and baptizing in the River Jordan out there in the wilderness. And people were flocking to him from everywhere. John was very popular.
But his was a ministry of preparation. A ministry in which he made the way plain for the one who was to come, that being Jesus, of course. Preparing the people for Jesus’ message.
We know a little about John. He was, as I said, the son of Elizabeth and Zechariah. As an adult, he took to the desert, living a rough life. He ate locusts and wild honey and wore a hair shirt, whether as a sign of his own repentance or whether it was just a sign of how rough his life was, I don’t know.
Luke places him in history with his introduction that lists Tiberius Caesar, Pontius Pilate, Herod, Philip, Lysanias, Annas and Caiaphas. These were real people, who ruled the lands where John did his ministry. Real people who are marked in the history books.
John is all about preparation: preparation for Jesus. So we too are on about preparation this advent. But how are we to prepare? It’s got to be more than just putting up Christmas decorations and making our houses look nice. It’s got to be more than baking and cooking and entertaining. It’s got to be more than shopping and buying and wrapping until our fingers are numb. It’s got to be more than all that.
Malachi gives us a hint of what we’re in for if we’re truly to prepare for Christ’s coming into our world. Preparing for the Messiah is not for the faint of heart. Malachi compares it to the refiner’s fire and the fuller’s soap. A refiner's fire is the forced-air, white-hot blaze that melts metallic ores and brings their impurities to the surface. Fullers' soap is the strong, lye-based soap used to bleach the impurities from cloth. Soap and fire, fire and soap. That’s what we use to prepare for the Messiah. Not just any fire and soap; super hot fire, super strong soap.
Our impurities are going to surface and be melted away leaving only the pure gold or silver that will shine. Our sins are to be scrubbed away leaving only the cleanest of cloths.
Preparation is not, as I said, for the faint of heart. It is something that is more than all our Christmas readyings and busyness. In fact, it’s quite antithetical. Those things can distract us from the real meaning of Advent. Advent is a time of purification and readying; readying ourselves for a meeting with Christ, with a meeting of Malachi’s Messiah, with the one who comes to save us and redeem us.
We’ve got to put aside the prettiness of Christmas for a moment and deal with hair-shirted John, who is going to level out our rough places and make plain those hills and valleys in our souls. We have to be ready for the refiner’s fire and the fuller’s soap both.
This is not a Currier and Ives Christmas card preparation. This is a down-on-the knees, soul-searching preparation that leaves us with tears on our cheeks and a shake in our step. This is a preparation that will leave us gasping for breath and weak in the knees. It’s not going to be simple nor will it be pretty. That’s the problem with Advent. We want it to be pretty. But neither refining ore nor lye soaping cloth are pretty.
Nor are they quick, easy processes. They bite and cause us to struggle and just want to get it over with. But both John and Malachi recognize that this is a process; a process that doesn’t end quickly. It is an ongoing and ever-present part of our life that is accentuated at this time of year as we work towards celebrating the birth of the one who would save us.
Yes, both John and Malachi, prophets separated by about 400 years, are making us ready for the Messiah; the world’s Messiah and our own personal Messiah. As a society we are not immune from this cultural preparation any more than we individually should try to escape it. But for our culture to prepare for the coming of the Christ, we each need to do our own preparation.
Prepare for the coming of the Christ-child into your world. Prepare for Christmas. But make sure you leave room for the true preparation that will require fire and soap and rough places made plain and the crooked made straight. It is difficult, but it is important. Make this your Advent of preparation.
We get two views of John in our readings this morning so attention must be paid. First there is the song/prophesy that his father sings in the first reading from Luke upon the birth of John. And then secondly, there is the introduction to John’s ministry that we heard in the 2nd Luke reading.
As part of the nativity narratives, the birth of John is included. We’re told that Jesus and John are related. Mary and Elizabeth are cousins, likely. John is born late in life for Elizabeth and her husband Zechariah. They had previously been childless but in their later years John came along. And Zechariah knew that this was a special child from the beginning, thus his song that we read together this morning.
Then we get the introduction, a few chapters later, of John’s ministry: a ministry of preparing the way for Jesus. John was calling people to repentance and baptizing in the River Jordan out there in the wilderness. And people were flocking to him from everywhere. John was very popular.
But his was a ministry of preparation. A ministry in which he made the way plain for the one who was to come, that being Jesus, of course. Preparing the people for Jesus’ message.
We know a little about John. He was, as I said, the son of Elizabeth and Zechariah. As an adult, he took to the desert, living a rough life. He ate locusts and wild honey and wore a hair shirt, whether as a sign of his own repentance or whether it was just a sign of how rough his life was, I don’t know.
Luke places him in history with his introduction that lists Tiberius Caesar, Pontius Pilate, Herod, Philip, Lysanias, Annas and Caiaphas. These were real people, who ruled the lands where John did his ministry. Real people who are marked in the history books.
John is all about preparation: preparation for Jesus. So we too are on about preparation this advent. But how are we to prepare? It’s got to be more than just putting up Christmas decorations and making our houses look nice. It’s got to be more than baking and cooking and entertaining. It’s got to be more than shopping and buying and wrapping until our fingers are numb. It’s got to be more than all that.
Malachi gives us a hint of what we’re in for if we’re truly to prepare for Christ’s coming into our world. Preparing for the Messiah is not for the faint of heart. Malachi compares it to the refiner’s fire and the fuller’s soap. A refiner's fire is the forced-air, white-hot blaze that melts metallic ores and brings their impurities to the surface. Fullers' soap is the strong, lye-based soap used to bleach the impurities from cloth. Soap and fire, fire and soap. That’s what we use to prepare for the Messiah. Not just any fire and soap; super hot fire, super strong soap.
Our impurities are going to surface and be melted away leaving only the pure gold or silver that will shine. Our sins are to be scrubbed away leaving only the cleanest of cloths.
Preparation is not, as I said, for the faint of heart. It is something that is more than all our Christmas readyings and busyness. In fact, it’s quite antithetical. Those things can distract us from the real meaning of Advent. Advent is a time of purification and readying; readying ourselves for a meeting with Christ, with a meeting of Malachi’s Messiah, with the one who comes to save us and redeem us.
We’ve got to put aside the prettiness of Christmas for a moment and deal with hair-shirted John, who is going to level out our rough places and make plain those hills and valleys in our souls. We have to be ready for the refiner’s fire and the fuller’s soap both.
This is not a Currier and Ives Christmas card preparation. This is a down-on-the knees, soul-searching preparation that leaves us with tears on our cheeks and a shake in our step. This is a preparation that will leave us gasping for breath and weak in the knees. It’s not going to be simple nor will it be pretty. That’s the problem with Advent. We want it to be pretty. But neither refining ore nor lye soaping cloth are pretty.
Nor are they quick, easy processes. They bite and cause us to struggle and just want to get it over with. But both John and Malachi recognize that this is a process; a process that doesn’t end quickly. It is an ongoing and ever-present part of our life that is accentuated at this time of year as we work towards celebrating the birth of the one who would save us.
Yes, both John and Malachi, prophets separated by about 400 years, are making us ready for the Messiah; the world’s Messiah and our own personal Messiah. As a society we are not immune from this cultural preparation any more than we individually should try to escape it. But for our culture to prepare for the coming of the Christ, we each need to do our own preparation.
Prepare for the coming of the Christ-child into your world. Prepare for Christmas. But make sure you leave room for the true preparation that will require fire and soap and rough places made plain and the crooked made straight. It is difficult, but it is important. Make this your Advent of preparation.
3 December 2006
Luke 21:25-36
A lot has been written about the end times. In fact, a whole series of extremely popular books, Left Behind, has been written about the apocalypse. I can’t say that I have read them. But I have heard enough about them to know they instill fear; fear about not being on the right side of the end times. There are tales, I hear, of war and of people disappearing into nothingness. Of course, I’m sure, I would be on the wrong side when the end times come according to the author. The right side of the end times is reserved for a very few, according to some.
Of course this is tied to Christ’s second coming; or his final coming as I prefer to think of it. Christ is coming to us on a daily basis. So we await his final coming at the end times, I would suggest.
Things needn’t be so frightening though. There doesn’t need to be all this fear instilled in people. Certainly the early church, the original hearers of our gospel passage this morning, were eagerly awaiting this final coming. It’s clear from the Luke passage that these final days are something to be watched for.
Luke’s gospel was written in the 8th or 9th decade of the 1st century: several decades after Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection. Certainly by then, people were ready for Jesus to come back in glory. In fact, our gospel reading this morning states that it will happen within “this generation,” putting those words in Jesus’ mouth. Clearly, if it’s 60 years after the event of the crucifixion and resurrection and Jesus is quoted as saying these things will happen soon, then the hearers and author of this writing would be most expectant of Jesus showing up to take over the world.
And taking over the world was what was needed. The Roman Empire was typically fierce and oppressive. People lived in the hope that someone would come along and knock them off their high perch. Someone who would rule with justice and righteousness. Someone like Jesus, the Christ, the Messiah.
Perhaps this is why Christianity, this early break off of Judaism, spread so rapidly throughout the Roman Empire. It instilled hope for a peaceful takeover of the beast that was the Roman Empire. It brought the expectation that soon, very soon, something would happen to break the oppressive yoke of the tyranny.
Christianity offered hope: hope for a better world. Its teacher was about love and grace and justice. The early writings all pointed to Christ returning shortly. 1 & 2 Thessalonians, from which we also heard this morning, are among the oldest writings in the New Testament. They are filled with the same expectation of which Luke’s gospel spoke: that Jesus would be coming back soon.
So what are we to do, some 2,000 years later? We are not part of the generations of which Luke and Paul wrote. We aren’t just a few short decades away from Jesus’ ministry. Indeed, much water has flowed under the ecclesiastical bridge since Jesus walked the earth. What do we do with the predictions that Christ’s coming is soon? Ignore them? Say they didn’t happen then and they’re not going to come true now? Or do we go in the other direction and take the current events of the world as signs that the world is ending?
Indeed, the world may be ending, but I think that its demise will be more of a humanly-made event, brought about by our greed and ignorance rather than a triumphant return of Christ. Perhaps those two events will be simultaneous. I don’t know.
And that’s the point: none of us know. And that’s the point of Advent: reminding us that we live in expectation and hope. We truly are people living in darkness and looking for the light of Christ. But we’re called to the darkness right now.
For us in the northern hemisphere, of course, Advent comes at a time of lessening light. As Advent progresses, our light declines. The darkest time in our world arrives as Advent comes to a climax. And appropriately, we live in this darkness progressively lighting candles seeking the true light of our world.
But we stumble along, expecting that…well, expecting what? What do you really expect this Advent? Do you expect Christ to come for the final time to reign in triumph. Do you expect wars to cease and diseases to be cured? Is this a time to expect prisoners to be set free and oppression to end? Or are you just expecting to make it through Christmas?
In the darkness of our life, we are comfortable surrounded by God’s velvety darkness; a darkness in which we see little but know God’s presence and love. We may feel like we are groping our way through our faith at times in this darkness but we keep searching for the light of the Christ.
The waiting of Advent is waiting for justice and righteousness to prevail. But what are we to do in the meantime? Just sit and wait in expectation? I think we are called to work so that justice and righteousness will occur. We can’t just sit back and hope that things will get better. If we want wars to cease and oppression to end, there are things we can do. We can be involved in the work of justice. We can seek the end to oppressions such as racism and homophobia.
Our call is clear. This is Advent. A time of lengthening shadows and growing darkness. Out of the Advent darkness and shadows should be growing the light that we shine of Christ, coming again and again to renew our world.
A lot has been written about the end times. In fact, a whole series of extremely popular books, Left Behind, has been written about the apocalypse. I can’t say that I have read them. But I have heard enough about them to know they instill fear; fear about not being on the right side of the end times. There are tales, I hear, of war and of people disappearing into nothingness. Of course, I’m sure, I would be on the wrong side when the end times come according to the author. The right side of the end times is reserved for a very few, according to some.
Of course this is tied to Christ’s second coming; or his final coming as I prefer to think of it. Christ is coming to us on a daily basis. So we await his final coming at the end times, I would suggest.
Things needn’t be so frightening though. There doesn’t need to be all this fear instilled in people. Certainly the early church, the original hearers of our gospel passage this morning, were eagerly awaiting this final coming. It’s clear from the Luke passage that these final days are something to be watched for.
Luke’s gospel was written in the 8th or 9th decade of the 1st century: several decades after Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection. Certainly by then, people were ready for Jesus to come back in glory. In fact, our gospel reading this morning states that it will happen within “this generation,” putting those words in Jesus’ mouth. Clearly, if it’s 60 years after the event of the crucifixion and resurrection and Jesus is quoted as saying these things will happen soon, then the hearers and author of this writing would be most expectant of Jesus showing up to take over the world.
And taking over the world was what was needed. The Roman Empire was typically fierce and oppressive. People lived in the hope that someone would come along and knock them off their high perch. Someone who would rule with justice and righteousness. Someone like Jesus, the Christ, the Messiah.
Perhaps this is why Christianity, this early break off of Judaism, spread so rapidly throughout the Roman Empire. It instilled hope for a peaceful takeover of the beast that was the Roman Empire. It brought the expectation that soon, very soon, something would happen to break the oppressive yoke of the tyranny.
Christianity offered hope: hope for a better world. Its teacher was about love and grace and justice. The early writings all pointed to Christ returning shortly. 1 & 2 Thessalonians, from which we also heard this morning, are among the oldest writings in the New Testament. They are filled with the same expectation of which Luke’s gospel spoke: that Jesus would be coming back soon.
So what are we to do, some 2,000 years later? We are not part of the generations of which Luke and Paul wrote. We aren’t just a few short decades away from Jesus’ ministry. Indeed, much water has flowed under the ecclesiastical bridge since Jesus walked the earth. What do we do with the predictions that Christ’s coming is soon? Ignore them? Say they didn’t happen then and they’re not going to come true now? Or do we go in the other direction and take the current events of the world as signs that the world is ending?
Indeed, the world may be ending, but I think that its demise will be more of a humanly-made event, brought about by our greed and ignorance rather than a triumphant return of Christ. Perhaps those two events will be simultaneous. I don’t know.
And that’s the point: none of us know. And that’s the point of Advent: reminding us that we live in expectation and hope. We truly are people living in darkness and looking for the light of Christ. But we’re called to the darkness right now.
For us in the northern hemisphere, of course, Advent comes at a time of lessening light. As Advent progresses, our light declines. The darkest time in our world arrives as Advent comes to a climax. And appropriately, we live in this darkness progressively lighting candles seeking the true light of our world.
But we stumble along, expecting that…well, expecting what? What do you really expect this Advent? Do you expect Christ to come for the final time to reign in triumph. Do you expect wars to cease and diseases to be cured? Is this a time to expect prisoners to be set free and oppression to end? Or are you just expecting to make it through Christmas?
In the darkness of our life, we are comfortable surrounded by God’s velvety darkness; a darkness in which we see little but know God’s presence and love. We may feel like we are groping our way through our faith at times in this darkness but we keep searching for the light of the Christ.
The waiting of Advent is waiting for justice and righteousness to prevail. But what are we to do in the meantime? Just sit and wait in expectation? I think we are called to work so that justice and righteousness will occur. We can’t just sit back and hope that things will get better. If we want wars to cease and oppression to end, there are things we can do. We can be involved in the work of justice. We can seek the end to oppressions such as racism and homophobia.
Our call is clear. This is Advent. A time of lengthening shadows and growing darkness. Out of the Advent darkness and shadows should be growing the light that we shine of Christ, coming again and again to renew our world.
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