A Christmas Eve Sermon

Isaiah 52.7-10         Psalm  98           Hebrews 1.1-12           John 1.1-14

I think it’s safe to say that everyone here knows the nativity story. We love the nativity. It is a narrative we embrace, it is a narrative that brings us comfort and tradition; it is also a narrative that should surprise us.

            When we think about it, the nativity doesn't seem ‘godly’. A stable? A manger? Ick. Imagine the smell, the terror, the lack of help. No midwife, no group of female relatives to help with the delivery. Wrapping a newborn in whatever meager and manky scraps of fabric happened to be lying around a stable. Putting that baby into a manger –a feeding trough – while the animals who eat there were literally beside you. Not quite the majestic entry we likely would have planned, if the story had been up to us.

            If we were in charge of this birth, we would have made it something spectacular. The best care, the best location, the most comfortable surroundings. Tons of attention and treatment worthy of a king. My goodness, consider what the world did for the birth of Prince George earlier this year... Specialists prepared for every possibility, a separate wing at the country’s best hospital, round the clock media attention, banners and buntings and parties in the streets. For an earthly child who happened to be born to a royal family.

            So imagine how the world would plan the birth of the Messiah. Wow.

And yet... that's not how it happened. That's the exact opposite of how it happened. We might be tempted to think that Jesus coming to the earth, in human form, happened as an afterthought, as an amendment to God’s original plan. Really, we as humans would never plan for the birth of the Christ child to be so mean and crude... certainly neither would God!

            Yet, God did. God intended for the birth to be just as it was. The nativity was exactly how God planned it, even from the beginning of time. From before the beginning of time. That’s what the gospel tells us tonight, very clearly. In the beginning was the Word. “Word” with a capital “W”. Word made flesh – Jesus. In the beginning, was Jesus. With God, As God, bringing all things into being. Jesus as life, the light of the world. Foretold by the prophets, announced by John, come to save the world full of sinners even when we - the world – do not know him.

            This was intended. This was the good news and comfort that Isaiah spoke of: “The Lord has bared his holy arm
before the eyes of all the nations;
and all the ends of the earth shall see the salvation of our God.” This is the good news of righteousness that the Psalmist invites us to hear as we sing joyfully when “All the ends of the earth have seen the victory of our God.” This is the good news of the reign of God on earth, who Paul in his letter to the Hebrews described as the “reflection of God’s glory and the exact imprint of God’s very being, and he sustains all things by his powerful word.” This was, undoubtedly, the plan of God to show God’s glory to the world.

            So the birth of Jesus, in that stable years ago, is more than just the one-time event. It is the embodiment of what had been happening all along as part of God’s plan. Theologian John Dominic Crossan describes it this way: “A mighty river pushes steadily against a logjam, but cannot break through except in trickles and rivulets. Then, one day, it breaks through fully and floods forward on it’s way. It broke through at a specific moment in time, but it was not created at that moment. It was always there, pressing, pressing, pressing.”[1]

            And that is what we are celebrating today, We’re celebrating that one moment – not as a singular moment, but as a defined moment. We’re celebrating that the pressing was happening in the world before the incarnation of Jesus; we’re celebrating that the pressing continues as we wait for Christ to come again.

We know that we cannot even begin to imagine what God has planned for us, or what God has planned for the second coming. We didn’t expect it the first time, we can’t expect that we, as humans, have gotten better at anticipating God’s embodied, revealed presence here on earth.

            But we can recognize God’s dream. We can embrace that “eternal and generative dream”[2] for a world full of peace and justice, of love and joy, of hope and promise. We can hear the mystical words of John tonight and celebrate God’s activity in bringing the Christ child into the world – to a specific time and place. God’s activity was in the years before the birth, it was in the time Jesus was wandering the earth in sandals, and it continues now as we wait again for the Christ to come.

            The good news tonight is that God’s dream has never ended. God’s dream lives on in us. When we choose to come together to worship God; to love and serve our friends and neighbours, when we choose to seek out goodness and reject evil. God’s dream is living on every time one of us makes a connection to that peaceful, just, healthy world. It does not depend on us, but it lives within us. It inspires us to seek out new joys, new possibilities to share the love of God that we feel deep within us, that someone else has shared with us.

God’s dream lives on every time our lives are touched by goodness; every time we choose to see the light that is shown and known in the world; every time we celebrate that it is for the redemption of sinners like us –you and me - that the Christ child was born. God’s dream lives on when we open our hearts and minds and souls to the wonder that we cannot fully understand but that we can always appreciate. God’s dream lives on every time we delight in being received as children of God, and living out that role. Gods dream lives on every time we rejoice in the glory that is shown to us – in the birth of the Christ child, in the promise of redemption, in the grace and truth that sustains us. God’s dream lives on in the world, in each of us, continually pressing, pressing, pressing, because the truth of Christmas can never be contained.

---

[1] Crossan, John Dominic. “The Power of Parable’” p. 225. New York: HarperOne, 2012.

[2] ibid.

Advent 2

In those days, John the Baptist appeared in the wilderness.

Interesting, isn’t it. He doesn’t appear in the city square, he doesn’t appear at the temple, he doesn’t appear in the marketplace. No, he chooses to come from the wilderness.

He’s certainly dressing the part, too, for a wilderness proclamation. No one would want him n those posh places, what with his attire and smell and general lack of hygiene.

So he comes form the wilderness, and he says one sentence. 9 words, in our translation: “Repent, for the Kingdom of heaven has come near.”

Good words, to be sure; words that the faithful were waiting to hear. Words that the faithful knew to expect – they’d all heard Isaiah’s prophesy many times. Words that the faithful likely had heard numerous times as people waited, watched, anticipated the great messenger.

And here he was – the one the prophet’s writings had told them about – the voice form the wilderness, crying out to prepare the way of the Lord and make his paths straight.

An unlikely messenger, an unlikely timing, an unlikely location.

Unlikely, yet right.

Of course it was right – otherwise the voice would not have come out of the wilderness. Otherwise the people would not have listened to that voice. Otherwise the Judean world would not have experienced change because of those 9 words. Otherwise the people would not have come from along the Jordan – some of them journeying a goodly distance - to be baptized by this stranger in their local river.

John knew that his ministry was to be part of something amazing for these folks – including himself – in the act of repentance and baptism. He knew, too, that this baptism had to be one of faith. That’s why he rejected the city folks who came out – the Pharisees and Sadducees – who were not willing to repent, therefore were not truly seeking baptism.

“Bear fruit worthy of repentance” comes the voice from the wilderness. Do not rely on your ancestor’s or your egos. Prepare yourselves, John tells them.

Prepare yourselves, John tells us. The voice from the wilderness is still calling. It calls out to each of us, inviting us to consider how we respond to this unlikely voice.  All of us have opportunity to listen to what is happening in our own wilderness; or we all have opportunity to get caught up in the hustle and bustle of our own chaotic city-square.

To be fair – I am not making a literal reference to urban versus rural. The metaphoric comparison, however, is an important one; especially in light of today’s readings.

The city is a busy place; with a lot of people and a lot of noise and a lot of things happening. It’s a great place to get lost in. Country life is different – as we well know. There are fewer people and they’re all neighbours, quieter streets, less busy-ness; a calmer lifestyle means that people can – and do – relate more to one another as community.

Then there’s the wilderness. To live in the wilderness requires skill and experience; it means you have to pay attention to what’s going on, to the most subtle of signs. Living in the wilderness means you sometimes rely on other people, but mostly on yourself. It means living with quiet and calm – learning to be comfortable enough with yourself that you don’t have to drown out your own thoughts with noise or activity.

Living in the wilderness is hard – and that’s why most of us choose not to do it. Our own wilderness experiences – and we all have them – are not about going out to live in the trees and bushes, eating locusts and wearing camel hair (though for us it would be grasshoppers and deer!) It’s about us listening to what comes out of our deepest, most inward places.

Those inward places that we don’t always want to think about – times in our past when we have hurt and been hurt; times when we have sinned against neighbor, times when we have had neighbor sin against us. Times when we have hidden behind egos and accomplishments rather than reveal our true selves. Times when we have turned away from God, or have convinced ourselves that God has turned away from us.

It is to these inward places, this wilderness, that we are compelled to go. To the places where we are most vulnerable, where we may prefer to avoid. We are not called to go there as some form of punishment or retribution; we are called to go there so that we can acknowledge our own need for repentance.

For when we do repent, we see that this wilderness is not a sad or scary place. It becomes a place where we see forgiveness granted to us, where we see new opportunities opening up for reconciliation. It is a place where we see beauty and joy, of humility and truth. It is a place where we see faith growing and sustaining us. Or, to slightly alter the meaning of the words of naturalist Thoreau: “In wilderness is the preservation of the world.”

So let us hear the invitation this week, let us hear the voice calling us. Not the human voice of an unlikely man so many years ago, but the still, small voice that calls to us from deep within. The voice that encourages us to examine what lies in our wilderness that is preventing the way of the Lord from having a straight path. The voice that will help us repent, return to the Lord, and live out the commitments we make in our baptismal vows.

Let us hear the voice coming from the wilderness: the wilderness where we journey with God, embracing our vulnerability because we trust that God will always see us through. A wilderness where we have nothing to hide, but where we are at peace, where we are known – truly, deeply, intimately.

Let us respond with faith to the invitation that God is giving each of us through John’s proclamation, the very personal invitation to repent, delighting that the kingdom of heaven has drawn near.

Sermon, Advent 1

(hastily written out - hopefully making sense!)

     Our readings this week are a great way to introduce us to the season of Advent. It's the start of the liturgical calendar (Happy New Year!), and a time of dedicated prayer, of waiting and watching for the coming of the Christ.

     The waiting is a challenge, though, because we always want to know WHEN. When will we see the second coming? We want to know when the second coming will happen, and how it will manifest. We're not necessarily great at the "now and not yet" sentiment of Advent. We just want to know the day and time - despite Jesus telling us very clearly that the day and hour are not known.

     Despite this, we still want to know. We try to interpret the signs, we try to understand the incomprehensible. We read the scriptures, we hear the words of the prophets, we try to wrap our limited human minds around the concept. And we've been doing this forever - and have been getting it wrong all this time. Even with the first coming of Christ, the people got it wrong. They had applied their plans and agendas and interpretations to what the coming of the Messiah would mean - he was going to be a great warrior to overthrow the corrupt government! And yet God's plan was quite different - he sent a humble human who was willing to offer the ultimate sacrifice in order to change the world. Despite the people desperately wanting to know and control the when and how of God's presence, they got it wrong. What makes us think we can do it any better in this day and age? We're still limited with human language - which can confuse us even when describing the simplest of earthly things, and we're trying to use it to describe the ultimate divine experience? No wonder we don't get it.

     An example of this was shown, comedically, in a BBC show a few years back. The Verger (basically a clergy helper) is walking with a Vicar (minister) - and the verger is none too bright. She asks the Vicar about when Jesus will arrive. The vicar answers that we don't know. The Verger suggests that's not the best plan - Tuesdays are bad for traffic, so Jesus shouldn't come on Tuesday. And Thursdays are when she vacuums the house, so if Jesus isn't coming on Thursday it may be a mess. And timing needs to be considered - out of politeness - she wouldn't want Jesus knocking on the door when she was in the washroom!

     Needless to say, the Verger has it wrong. In trying to confine the second coming to her schedule, she's missing the point. And while this example is particularly silly, sometimes the rest of us can act in similar ways - we live our lives by the clock on the wall and the day planner, trying to control the time we have.

     So Advent speaks against that. It invites us to consider that we really have NO control over the coming of Christ. The Now and Not Yet dichotomy mean we can't plan for the second coming, we can't make sure the house is tidy or the baking done or any of those other human control realities when we know we'll be welcoming someone.

     But - Advent also invites us to recognize what we CAN control. And that is the here and the now. The present moment. Advent is a time for us to recognize what really matters in our lives - love, compassion, our relationship with one another and the world. And it encourages us to always be prepared, spiritually. To seek out every interaction, every opportunity as THE moment when Christ may come. 

     This, of course, takes practice and effort. It's an on-going commitment. Just as the work is never done when we;re preparing our homes (when we've just finished cleaning the front of the house, a dust bunny will have formed itself in a back corner), so too our spiritual work is never done and should not be considered a task to complete. We have to take some time every day to encourage the spiritual preparations within ourselves so that we can be ready to welcome the Christ.

     This preparation will also take humility - we'll need to put our selves aside for the benefit of the world. Our desires, our wants, become secondary as we prepare ourselves. And we do this by choosing to see the holy that is before us - the sacred presence that is already here. 

It's not easy to do this, it's not meant to be easy. But by doing this we are choosing to see both the holy that IS and the holy that is to come; by doing this we are embracing both the transcendent and imminent nature that is Advent. By doing this we are releasing our need to control the future and we are celebrating being in this moment. 

     So all we can do is be ready, be prepared, in this moment. All we can do is bring about change in ways that will have meaning for us and how we seek out the holy in our lives.

  We're called to bring about our hearts, to celebrate the coming off the Christ.

  We're called to bring about our thoughts and prayers, so that they articulate what our hearts most desire.
  We're called to bring about our words, so that we can speak the hope that is living in that desire.
  We're called to bring about our actions, so that they align with that which our mouths proclaim.
  We're called to bring about ourselves- spirit and mind and body- into such a space where we joyfully declare that we are waiting. Patiently, anxiously, faithfully waiting. 

  And that while we wait we are looking for the coming presence is the holy, by seeking out the holy already present before us.

May our Advent time be a celebration of our faithful waiting.

Amen. 

Sermon, Reign of Christ

Jeremiah 23.1-6

Psalm 46 or Canticle 19

Colossians 1.11-20

Luke 23.33-43

Today the Prophet Jeremiah is delivering a promise – a promise of salvation, of leadership, of true health for all of God’s people- and a message of woe to those who would scatter the Lord’s flock. We’re promised in verse 5 that the days are coming when we will see David’s righteous Branch reign as king and deal wisely, and execute justice and righteousness in the land.

It sounds wonderful, and peaceful, and just, and healthy. So our challenge is to examine the world around us, our communities, our families, our selves, and ask: have we moved in that direction? Do we live in a land where justice and righteousness are even hinted at, let alone celebrated?

One would hope that we would say yes: that we would seek out those moments of grace, of justice, and hold them up. Aspire to them. Emulate them. And we would do this, of course, as a demonstration of our faith, of our commitment to serve the righteous ruler we know in the person of Jesus Christ.

          Jesus, we know, is this branch of David. Jesus is the bringer of peace, of justice, of righteousness. It’s what we celebrate today in the Reign of Christ, it’s what we uphold as we gather in this sacred space, it’s what we want to see continue as we look at the church of today in all it’s generations, in all it’s manifestations, in all its beauty.

Our challenge, of course, comes to us as we are called to celebrate the Reign of Christ, the bringer of justice, in a world where justice is not always known. Our challenge comes to us as we leave this building, this service: We have come to God’s table today as family, receiving our fill of spiritual food; We go into the world, inspired to seek out justice. In our thoughts, words, and actions, we are called to recognize the injustices in our world and to dedicate our prayers, actions, and gifts to overcome them – for the love of God, for the reign of Christ.

            We are called to know that there are people around us who are hungry. We are called to respond to the 1 in 8 people around the world who do not have enough to eat; we are called to respond to the 1 in 8 Canadian families who have known food insecurity (not knowing where their next meal would come from) in their lives this past year.

We are called to see that this problem exists in our lives, in our communities. We are called to see that this is not the promise of Paradise that Jesus promised.

            The good news, however, is that things CAN be different. The good news is that these sad situations can be changed. The good news is that we are committing to change them. We witnessed Jesus showing us a glimpse of the kingdom in the feeding of the hungry. By this, he has shown us what paradise will look like: not only will we know where we are asking to join him, but we are learning how this earthly realm might also look: a place where Christ truly reigns, a place where no one is hungry.

We want to go there. We want to be like the criminal in the Gospel today, begging to be remembered when Jesus comes into His Kingdom. What we need to do, however, before we can ask that question, is that we need to have a change in our own hearts. The criminal, nameless but remembered, seeks forgiveness. He has recognized his errors and sins; he has recognized Jesus’ righteousness and true power. With this recognition, this man had the humility to come to Jesus just as he was – not trying to explain away his crimes, just wishing to be known by the Son of God.

We should all come to Christ in such a manner. Whether our names are remembered in history or not should not matter so much as whether our hearts are known by God. We should all come to Christ, prepared to confess and submit to Christ, asking to be remembered.

Our confession matters: we ask to be forgiven for our sins, known and unknown, intentional and unintentional. Our confession acknowledges not just sins against our beloved God, but also against other beloved humans in God’s great creation. Our confession is not an ignorant one; it states that we can identify the sins we know and intended; it also suggests that we are willing to learn more about the sins we have committed unaware, unintentionally – so that we might not repeat those sins in future.

Our sins addressing issues of food provide us a means to examine this. We confess that we know people are hungry in the world. And we know that we can no longer claim ignorance; the issue of food security and widespread hunger is not hidden or secretive. And the more we learn about the complex realities of food systems, and all that threatens food security, the more we become aware of our own roles within those systems.

The reality of hunger is difficult to understand; it affects so many people and is impacted by so many things. One way that we – the church – can respond to this is by educating ourselves and taking action. A great place to start is the new “Fred Says” campaign on food security, launched this month by the PWRDF. Over the coming years we will be hearing more and more about the issues affecting our world’s food, the realities that are threatening to increase hunger, and the brave actions that are already underway as we – through PWRDF partners – are already working to feed the hungry. There will be many ways to get involved with this campaign and the challenges it addresses; we can start by prayer. Prayer together as we gather; prayer individually through PWRDF’s Advent Resource, prayer through good news brought to us by Fred Says. And prayer through our own confession.

            If we are truthful in our confession we know that we can no longer claim ignorance – “Forgive us for we know not what we are doing.” We know that part of our responsibility will be to learn more about what it is that we are doing, and what the implications of our actions are, for all of God’s people. We then are called, as a result of this knowledge, to humbly ask for God’s forgiveness, and to amend our ways for the future.

Part of our asking for this forgiveness will mean we truly want to make a change in our hearts and thereby in our actions. We want to make a change NOW, not at the last minute like the criminal beside Jesus. We want to see the reign of Christ expanding throughout this world to demonstrate more fully the promise of that paradise, that land of righteousness and justice. And so we pray that God will forgive us our past, and help us to walk with Christ in the present. We pray that we can be given the strength to live out the commission of loving God and neighbor by the actions of feeding the hungry. Help us to have the courage to know more about food systems, to be inspired to change our ways, to celebrate the Reign of Christ in our own lives by the decisions we make on our own forks.

Amen.