Christmas Sermon, casual Christmas Day - Luke 2.8-20

            The narrative this morning carries on from where we left off last night, with some unlikely characters, with unlikely news.

            The shepherds are, literally, minding their own business, out in the fields, when a messenger from God Almighty is standing before them, with glory shining like the best pyrotechnic show anyone could imagine.

            Is it any wonder they were terrified?

            I picture these poor souls shading their eyes, adrenaline coursing through their veins, trying to figure out what is happening and what they're meant to do about it. It's surreal; it's supernatural; it goes beyond their capacity to comprehend.

            And the angel begins - as angels often begin - with those words of comfort: Do Not Be Afraid.

            Now, in my experience of reading the bible, these words happen for two very distinct reasons. And it's not because the heavenly host has startled someone by popping into this realm with a divine message.

            Reason #1: "Do not be afraid" always preceded something that was, well, fear-inducing. It meant change - in a big way. Something HUGE was going to happen, and the world was going to look different, and BE different.

            And reason #2: this is an assurance that despite the change, and uncertainty, God was with those who received the message. They are comforted, and protected, by the holiest of holies. So do not be afraid.

            I think this is why the shepherds are still standing there, receiving the message, instead of running away as fast as they can.

            They believe. They listen. They hear.

            What they hear is miraculous news; unexpected and unlikely and unprecedented. The Messiah has been born into the lowest of circumstances.

            And the shepherds take that in, delight in it, and change their lives because of it. So with the comfort of NOT being afraid, off they trek, abandon their flocks, and journey by night (not the ideal time to travel), into the city, to visit Mary and Joseph and the baby (yet unnamed, by Jewish custom). And they tell these people, these strangers, this young family, what they have been told.

            Naturally, everyone was amazed. How could they not be?

            The great thing is what happens as a result of what those shepherds said:

            Mary pondered these things in her heart: the shepherds just verified the truth she had told Joseph 9 months previous.

            They validated what Joe had trusted from his fiancée.

            They supported the accounting of the relationship, that Joseph had told his family.

            They authenticated the ministry for that young couple, as they would face unfathomable challenges of being new parents in tumultuous times.

            So the holy family, and all who would have ears, also received the good news, through these shepherds. God wanted the good news to be shared as broadly as possible, even in unexpected ways and from surprising sources.

            Interestingly, while we recognise the importance of the shepherds in the story, we really don't know anything about them: their names, their families, who they were before the angel's proclamation, or what impact it had on their lives after that night.

            And today - in this sacred space, we have also heard these angelic words.

            So it's up to us to decide for ourselves: What will we do with that message? How will we respond to the good news? Who will we tell? How will we joyously share this truth in today's world - into our world?

            Imagine the goodness yet to come from our telling the old old story in new, life-changing ways - perhaps even to a stranger who needs to hear it.

            The message is for us: to hear, to believe, to share.

            I pray we hear the Christmas invitation, as we go our own way, to celebrate the birth of the Christ child, glorifying and praising God for all we have seen and heard. 

Christmas Sermon, Candle lit service - Luke 2.1-14

           How beautiful, on this holy night, to hear the narrative of the holy birth.

            Part of what I love about this telling, is how Luke weaves together so much wonder and truth, in such subtle ways. The emphasis on contrasts highlights the profound nature of this birth. By juxtaposing the extreme differences, it shows how God chooses to come forth into the world: and it's not in a way many would expect.

            We hear about the ruling elite: the Emperor and the Governor! and they are secondary characters to the birth story of a child born in poverty.

            We hear of the royal lineage of the House of David - and then focus on Joseph, a man of simple means, a tradesman.

            And into this family, the firstborn son; the heir of all that is, the one who will carry the birthright - yet for whom the circumstances have being wrapped in rags.

            But this is the Messiah! The long-expected and long-awaited Messiah was physically manifest in human form on earth! The one who carries the promise of redemption and salvation! and yet there was no provision to welcome him at the inn.

            So despite being right beside a proper and appropriate guest house, the child is laid in a manger, out of earthly desperation for anywhere for him to lay.

            Yet - he was here. The child was delivered, and so a great declaration was made! By angels, messengers sent directly from God! and they carried their message of glory and peace to lowly shepherds. 

             The contrasts are stark: they tell us how unlikely, and how un-majestic things were. We learn of people and places that are humble and vulnerable and... ordinary.   Especially considering how the birth *could* have happened. This is the Son of God, after all, choosing that time and that place and that way to enter into this realm.

            Yet...

The circumstances are humble; but not powerless.

The holy family is vulnerable; but not uncared for.

The witnesses are ordinary: but not unexceptional.

            And this is God's truth: the birth of Jesus proclaims that the glory of God will not be limited... that the presence of God will not be limited... that the peace of God will not be limited.

            God choose this lowly birth, in contrast to all the riches and comforts that were possible, to remind us that God is here, at all times and for all people. Jesus is continually breaking forth into our world, at unexpected times and in unanticipated ways, inviting us to be surprised by joy and inspired by love.

            And so we are invited:

to look beyond what is likely, to go beyond what cultural might limit, and to love beyond what we think we can. God did; God does; God will continue to do.

So I invite us to engage with this Gospel, tonight and always. May we have the courage to cherish the message of God's impossible, improbable, and perfect love.

May we share the joy of the infant Jesus with all whom we encounter, as we celebrate that we too have been given good news, of a great joy, for all the people.

Christmas Sermon, Family service - John 1.1-14

(Introduced as a 'show and tell' sermon, wheeling tray with candles into centre of aisle. Indicated that the reading was a bit confusing, but with some visuals we could better understand it)

In the beginning was the Word.

Just a word.

A small, single word. It doesn't seem like much, as a starting point.

BUT - the Word was with God The Word WAS God.

This divine Word waited until the right moment to break forth into the world, to bring the fullness of God's amazing love and grace and truth to all of God's people.

But it started small.

(light taper, keep discrete)

It started with a Word.

A Word that brought life.

Like the smallest glimmer of light...

(light tea light)

And from this small and humble beginning, we see how light can grow, illuminating the world of everyone the light encountered:

Like a new mother, told she was absolutely "glowing" through her pregnancy. A mother who, upon having the child laid in her arms, would radiate a perfect love.

(light one blue candle)

Or a new father, beaming with joy, as he meets the child that his beloved has carried for so many months, as he introduces a new life into the world.

(light blue candle)

Or those who would have seen these things happen,

(light one small white candle)

The immediate family and friends who received good news.

(light one small white candle)

Those who had helped during the birth.

(light one small white candle)

Those who made the most humble of locations a safe haven, a place of peace.

(light one small white candle)

Or those who would be bearers of glad tidings

(light one large white candle)

Whose heavenly joy was so extreme they couldn't help but sing!

(light one large white candle)

Those who were in no way surprised by the increasing, growing light in the world.

(light one large white candle)

Those who enthusiastically shared the message of joy with complete strangers

(light one large white candle)

Those whose ethereal presence declared Glory! and Hosanna!

(light one large white candle)

And those strangers, who would have the faith to respond to the invitation to witness the growing light

(light one green candle)

Whose simple lives, in the fields, would be forever changed, and remembered.

(light one green candle)

Or the ones who would only have the first hint of a light, shining from foreign lands, who wanted to witness to that light.

(light one red candle)

Who would know that something big was happening, and that they wanted – needed -  to be a part of it, but who did not yet fully understand what it was.

(light one red candle)

Those who would journey, in faith, with gifts, bearing visions of the future.

(light one red candle)

Or those, years later, who would recognise the light and follow it, delighting in the moments when they felt illuminated by the light, and committing themselves to continue sharing the light.

(light multi-coloured candles: total 12 colours)

 (return to centre – hold small taper up)

And: like us - realising that the light has shined in the world, and continues to shine. Celebrating that the light - no matter how small a beginning - shines brightly in the darkness, and darkness will never overcome it.

This Holy Night, I pray that the light and love of Christ burn brightly in your hearts, and in your lives, this Christmas and forever more.

Sermon, Advent 3

* an Advent carol service
* text John 1.6-8, 19-28

WHO ARE YOU?

No really - who are you?

How do you describe yourself? What is your identity? What is your purpose? How would you tell someone, in 10 seconds or less, the summation of your entire being?

Tough question, isn't it?

Because how we answer that depends on who exactly is asking the question…

And how we are seeing ourselves that day…

And how we want to present ourselves in that context…

We all of us have many aspects of who we are.

Even asking "Who are you?" is a challenge, because it lacks context.

Yet it's the core of today's gospel passage. It's what John the Baptist is asked repeatedly.

And I think it's worth noting how this question is asked of him, and how it is answered.

The questioning comes from some priests and Levites - so religious scholars and lawyers - but it has its roots in some other group of people. A group unwilling to come out to the rivers' edge themselves in order to have a conversation (or perhaps condemnation) with wild-haired wilderness-man John.

Does it seem odd to anyone else that these questions about identity and purpose, are asked through go-betweens? Hmm. Who are THEY? What is THEIR purpose? Alas - we just don't know.

What we do know, however, is how John cleverly de-escalates what was possibly a terse and tense situation.

WHO ARE YOU? these folks demand.

And John answers with who he is NOT.

He seems to know that his mission and ministry, in fact his very existence, is causing a stir with the religious and political rulers of the time.

Who are you? they ask him. Tell us, so we can report back.

Hmm. We get clear insight into their identity and purpose, don't we?

However - back to John - It's kinda fun how he starts this dialogue. John knows that they want to trap him into saying something that is heretical - so he jumps right in to the deep end.

He is not the Messiah - he is humble, knows that God's holy anointed one is someone else.

Well then! Is he Elijah?

Nope, not him either - Elijah was a great prophet whisked into heaven in a flaming chariot, a hero from early scriptures. No, that identity belongs to someone else, he confirms. But thanks for checking my knowledge of the scriptures! he seems to imply.

How about the prophet?

By this they mean Isaiah - and again John says no. John knows his Jewish history and tradition, so even a question like this one will not catch him unawares. He may look (and smell) rather rough, but John is NOT a fool.

So... I picture the rabbis and Levites are at this point flummoxed. They have not been able to catch John in their trap - and they expected to do just that. They judged him on his appearance, and thought he was some crazy guy in the river with delusions of grandeur.

But no; John is clear; that's not me.

Deflated then, they ask him to just identify himself, just so they have some form of answer to take back to the unknown people that sent them. Who are you? What do you say about yourself?

And here's where it gets fun. Because John here gives them an unexpected reply: He said, "I am the voice of one crying out in the wilderness, 'Make straight the way of the Lord.'"

And it's here in the story that we find out who had sent these folks to begin with - the Pharisees.

Talk about suspense! I think the priests and Levites are now standing there, jaws dropped, as they realise the implications of what John has just told them. Because he has let them know that he is connected to the Messiah - that somehow, by the grace of God, he is the one to announce the coming of the Lord, the one for whom all the Jews have been waiting expectantly for thousands of years.

John has just said: "I fulfill the prophesy."

That's substantial news. For anyone, at any time.

It’s so shocking to these folks, that instead of acknowledging what he’s just told them, they deflect. They deny. They ask him why he’s baptizing if he’s not the Messiah, Elijah, or Isaiah.

Can you imagine how John was feeling? “I just gave you the truth, friends, and you won’t hear it. I’ve answered your question.”

Yet, John is not confrontational. In fact, his manner makes it even more important for us to hear his message. Because in choosing how he answers that one question, John articulates some very specific things.

John knows who he is, and who he is not.

He knows what his purpose is, and what it is not.
He is clear that his ministry is proclaiming and baptising with water, a baptism of forgiveness. He doesn't stop doing this just because he knows that Jesus is there. Rather he does this even more enthusiastically, knowing that it is part of the fulfillment of God's truth.

By doing his part, by knowing his God-given place, John is helping people to believe. He is helping to set the scene for the coming of the Christ. He is doing what he can, to bring about the Messianic wonders that will change the world forever.

John, as we hear at the beginning of the passage, is not the light of the world. But he came to testify TO the light. He came to testify to the light of the world, our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ.

John was, like the rest of the people, Longing for the light. He was wanting and waiting and hoping to see the light of the Lord shining in the world, bringing about the promise of redemption and salvation.

John knew who he was. He knew who he was not. He knew what it was that God was calling him to do. And he knew that part of his life's purpose was to testify to the light.

So: who are you? Who are you not? And what is your purpose?

However you might answer those questions, I pray that you know - deeply know - some shared truths:

You are a beloved child of God.

You are not anyone but who God made you to be.

You are being called by God to do amazing things in this world.

And, part of your life's purpose is to testify to the light.

Especially in this season of preparation, this sacred season of Advent; I pray our hearts are all longing for the light that we have faith is coming soon. 

Sermon, Advent 2

Isa 40.1-11, Ps 85 1-2, 8-15a; 2Pet 3.8-15a; Mk 1.1-8

If you had a story to tell, one that was profoundly significant, that had been living inside you for years, how would you tell it?

Would you write it as a book? Or a play or a movie? Maybe a poem or lyrics set to music. Maybe you'd paint or draw or sculpt the story into being, or choreograph a dance to manifest the narrative...

The sky is the limit! There is a story to be told, to withstand the test of time - and it will be told, by the grace of God!

How would YOU tell a story of fantastic news?

With that in mind, let's think about how our biblical folks today tell their story. We have quite a few stories coming at us today - and they all intertwine in this first snippet of Mark's Gospel.

So how does he do that? Well, bluntly. Precisely. With no room for misinterpretation. In fact, with this as the very start of Mark's gospel, it reads almost like a political brief - there's a statement of what it is, then there's the background, then there's a hint of the preamble to lead into the content of the document.

Have you ever read political briefings? They're kinda dry. Dense, academic writing. And yet this is the method that Mark employs... right from the start - because today's passage is that start.

Chapter 1, Verse 1:

THE BEGINNING OF THE GOOD NEWS OF JESUS CHRIST, THE SON OF GOD.

He leaves no room for misinterpretation there. It's even more like a heading than a sentence. Not even a complete sentence, really. "This is my account of the beginning of the good news..."

Nor does Mark spend any time with any extraneous details. He doesn't go into setting the scene, the way Matthew does, by identifying every branch of the family tree of Jesus and a nativity with wandering magi, and an Egyptian escapade. Nor does he, like Luke does, detail extended family histories, nativities (of both John and Jesus), some shepherds, and childhood adventures. In fact, it takes both Matthew and Luke to chapter 3 to get to where Mark starts.

The beginning of the Good News of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.

 Simple enough as a statement - a headline, if you will.

Well, let's pause for just a moment. This is, for us Christian folks, some 2000 years later, a simple enough statement. But for the people Mark was chatting with, the people first hearing this - this was Breaking News. This was shocking. This was bordering on scandal!

Because this was making some really bold statements against both the political and the religious regimes.

Politically: the term "son of God" had been previously used in recognition of one person, and one person alone: Caesar. He liked the title - it gave him, in his mind, power and authority. He liked the title so much that he added it to statues of himself. He would have had that on his business cards, if business cards existed then.

So to say that this upstart, unknown, ruffian was the son of God? Shocking. Especially since by the time Mark is writing this, the crucifixion has happened. So here he is, saying that the man, who the state thought of so lowly that it killed him in the most demeaning way, was in fact more powerful than the Caesar.

Religiously: Mark calls Jesus the Christ. To Jewish ears, this was still ridiculous to consider. For the Messiah, God's annointed, the Christ, was prophesied about for thousands of years. He was going to come and change everything - everything! - so that God's people would know freedom and favour.

Jesus? Again; here Mark is, saying that the man the state (including state religion) thought of so lowly that it killed him in the most demeaning way, was in fact the holiest of holies, more powerful than any of the rabbis and high priests in the temple.

So by starting his account in this way, Mark has chosen to let people know that his story will be like that first sentence: shocking. Attention-grabbing. Provocative. Unsettling.

The beginning of the Good News of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.

The people hearing this must have been thinking: "WHOA. Okay, friend, prove it."

So he does.

He does this by moving immediately to Isaiah: a prophet, whose teachings have been so trusted for centuries that they have been passed on and passed down, within families, within communities, within the religious establishment.

A messenger is coming, to remind you to prepare God's way.

"Okay!" the people must be thinking. "This is good. We're back to something that we can all agree on, something that calms the hearts and brings comfort to those who are afflicted. The prophesy is our background for discussing holy things."

And I'm willing to guess that some of them were waiting for a nice, expected commentary about how the messenger would fit all the expected, societal norms. Because this is what is used for the background of Mark's message, this is giving some handy historical context.

And just when the people are starting to take that deep calming breath, Mark - like every evangelist - throws another curve. He talks about John the Baptist.

So again, I invite us to consider John the Baptist NOT with our modern, 'oh-lovely-a-saint; we-all-love-a-saint' perspective. Instead, let's consider Johnny as he presented himself. What did the people know about John? Well, some may have known that he was Jesus' cousin - which, given how Jesus was perceived by the non-believers (which was most of the people hearing this Gospel!), he had some guilt by association. "That Jesus bloke - maybe the weirdness ran in the family!" Hmm.

Taking it one step further, we have his presence and presentation.

A man walks out of the wilderness. A dry, dessert, wilderness. Out he pops; unclean, unshaven, undernourished. He's wearing animal skin rags, he's eating insects, he's been standing in rivers as much as possible, so that camel hair is probably stinking like wet dog. And he's wandering from town to town crying out about how the people he meets need to reject their godless ways. Repentence is his thing, the Holy Spirit hasn't made an appearance yet, but that will come with the 'someone greater than me' who's coming along.

Heeeeeeeeere's Johnny!

As Mark is writing this gospel account, John's story is known - the entirety of it. John is looked on by many with skepticism, cynicism, and pity. Because John, as we know, doesn't have a great life.  His dad was older when he was born, so likely they didn't have many years together. He's had a very difficult ministry in the wilderness. He's really not popular with the ruling party: he's arrested a few times, and then he's beheaded by Herod at the whim of a dancing girls' mother.

Pardon the pun, but it must have made people's heads spin to hear Mark suggesting that this man, this gross and grody, unlikely man, was the prophesied and long-awaited messenger!

It's shocking. It's attention-grabbing. It's provocative.

As it was intended to be. Quite frankly, as it should be.

Because it conveys a message of the beginning of something good - something GREAT. It has 3 different people (Mark, Isaiah, and John) agreeing that something BIG is about to happen. Something worth hearing about. Something worth thinking about. Something worth changing your life about. And, something worth telling others about.

This is a story to be told, even by the most unlikely and unexpected people. Folks that today’s society might not choose, in a way that we may not choose – but exactly the people and the process and the timeline and the manner that God intentionally chose – to tell The Good News of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.

Isaiah the Prophet prophesied about it.

John the Baptist proclaimed it.

Mark the Evangelist wrote it.

The beginning of the Good News of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.

...but not the end. Never, never the end. The good news continues, so long as there are people who believe it and live it and share it.  The good news continues, so long as we are those people.

So I ask again: If you had a story to tell, one that was profoundly significant, that had been living inside you for years, how would you tell it?

Because now is our time. Now is our opportunity to share the good news. Now is our world, a world desperate to receive good news, to proclaim the ongoing truth. May we all celebrate the grace and the privilege of finding new ways to make known the Good News of Jesus Christ, the Son of God.

Sermon, Advent 1

Isa 64.1-9; Ps 80.1-7, 17-19; 1Cor 1.3-9; Mk 13.24-37

        What wonderful introductions we have in the scriptures today! Here we are, the start of the liturgical year (HAPPY NEW YEAR!) and instead of some surface-level sunshine and happiness message, what we get is a little bit deeper.

         Isaiah starts off begging God to come and cleanse all of society: O that you would tear open the heavens and come down, so that the mountains would quake at your presence-- as when fire kindles brushwood and the fire causes water to boil-- to make your name known to your adversaries, so that the nations might tremble at your presence!

         Hmm. Happy New Year!?

         Then we get an even starker message from the Gospel: In those days, after that suffering, the sun will be darkened, the moon will not give its light, the stars will be falling from heaven, and the powers in the heavens will be shaken.

         Again. Happy New Year!?

         It can feel awkward when at the surface, in our first hearing, these passages seem to be giving us the exact opposite of the Good News that we long to hear. The are full of what sounds like bad news - dark news - and that's not what we want: we get enough about the world full of injustice and greed and sexual assault and violence and hatred and suffering.

         If we're to be honest and self-reflective, we see the darkness in our own lives: we have moments of self-doubt, of self-loathing, of anger, of deep sadness. This darkness infiltrates our lives, our thoughts and words and actions. This then extends beyond ourselves to our families and our communities.

         When we do acknowledge the darkness - and it's a difficult journey, to be sure - then we can realise that the darkness that we feel is uniquely our own. It's based on our experiences, our histories, our emotions. We understand that what is dark to one person may not be darkness at all to another. For example: a glass of wine to one person is a nice treat with dinner; but to an alcoholic it's a hellish temptation. If someone tries something new and it fails: one day that might be an oops, another day it may cause tears of frustration. A disagreement between friends might feel like a simple misunderstanding to one party, and a hate-filled personal attack to the other.

         The darkness in our lives is undeniably real. Left unchecked, darkness will take root in our lives, gradually and subtly increasing, until it becomes our normal. We listen to it. We plan according to that negativity.

         BUT - we don't have to. We can choose to reject the darkness, at any time.  Instead of seeing the darkness as getting stronger, we can see perceive it as a vulnerable and weak force, making a desperate effort in the face of its defeat.

         Here we can acknowledge the darkness for what it is, because we have been brave enough to look into it - to assess it - to determine that we will stand up against it. And how do we stand against the darkness? We shine light. And here's the beautiful thing that we all know about light - it doesn't take much to overcome a lot of darkness. And a little light in a lot of areas can eliminate a substantial amount of darkness, in a very effective manner.

         To continue this analogy: Imagine, if you will, standing in a football field with a birthday candle. Yes, there is some light, but not enough.  Now, imagine that the football stadium is filled with thousands of people - each holding a birthday candle. Much better - much safer - much brighter. Now imagine if all those candles were melted together into a giant candle with multiple wicks - the light would be huge! The collective power of those candles would be enough to light the place - and then some!

         Light: it's a powerful force, to so easily and quickly overcome the darkness. And knowing the depth of the darkness (spiritual or literal) lets us know just how much light is needed (again, spiritually or literally). When we have faced the darkness, we know how much light we need.

         And THIS is the Good News that the scriptures are speaking to us today. Isaiah wants God to break forth into a world that is plagued with darkness - he is begging God to bring LIGHT into the world, to dispel it. The people have sinned, Isaiah says - and they have sinned deeply. So he wants a bursting forth of acknowledgement; a spiritual reality check to inspire these people to return to the light, to return to God. Come to us, Holy One, Isaiah pleads: shine your light into your people so we can learn from our mistakes and live a holier, faithful life.

         This is the description from our Gospel, of how darkness is going to continue to exist. AND - most importantly - that God's people are being given every opportunity, every chance, to start again. Every moment is a new moment for them - for us! - to pay attention to the darkness in our lives and in the world, and to reject it. Keep awake, Jesus says. You don't know the day or the hour when the Son of Man will return. But when that happens, you will want to be living in the light. So, keep awake, acknowledge and reject the darkness, be in the light.

         And this light is the light of the world, the light that the darkness cannot overcome, the light perpetual: this light is Jesus! That is what Paul is writing to the folks at Corinth about. He's encouraging them to live in and by the light of Christ, to remain in the light, to shine the light wherever they go. And to remember, always, that the light which has given them a new start comes only from our faithful God, by whom we were all called into the fellowship of Jesus the Christ.

         THIS is the message of the scriptures. THIS is the Good News of Advent: that we are given a new opportunity to start again - and another opportunity, and another... We are reminded of new beginnings, assured that together we can overcome the darkness - because we are together in shining the light of Christ.

         So as we start this liturgical year together, I pray that the grace of God will shine in your hearts and minds: as we begin our Advent journey of increasing light - as we resolve to intentionally share the light - as we commit and recommit ourselves to longing for the perpetual light of Christ. May we celebrate the deep joy of the new year, seeing the privilege that God has given us to focus on the light. Restore us, O God of hosts; let your face shine, that we may be saved. Happy New Year, indeed.