A high-energy sermon for Epiphany +4

Deut 18.15-20; Ps 111; 1Cor 8.1-13; Mk 1.21-28 

          There's a beautiful, subtle theme throughout the scriptures today. It focuses on being amazed - astounded - surprised. By God.

          Let's consider the shocking realities that are happening in these passages.  

          Deuteronomy promises an unlikely prophet is going to rise, not from somewhere else, but from within the community. This is NOT what the Israelites are expecting, in several ways.

          Firstly, it's Moses talking - he who has spoken with God - so they already considered him kind of the be-all and end-all of humanity. For Moses to speak of someone else, someone with greater authority would have been shocking.

          And he's also saying that this greatness will come from within the community: not some outsider coming to rescue the oppressed Israelites, but one "from among your own people" - this meant that someone that had been known - maybe the person who had been a brat as a child, or the neighbour who always took more than their share at shared meals, or the person who skipped worship - one of the everyday common neighbour folks would be the prophet, to speak the word of God, promising salvation to all. Shocking.

          And even moreso: the demand of unwavering obedience was not popular - nor is it easy. God tells them that they need to stop listening to, and speaking of, the many other deities clamoring for popularity - on pain of death. And that anyone who would presume to speak on God's behalf, without God's permission, would also face the same consequence. Prophets - and everyone wanted to be one - well, true prophets had a very narrow path to follow. And this was shocking.

          The Psalmist carries on the theme that our connection to God is through praise and thanksgiving and giving glory to God and God alone! It's not about traditions or "we've always done it that way" but about loving one another - with a love that is so profound, so deep, so careless, so open, that it is shocking. It is a love that comes from knowing, and being known by God who is the definition of love. It's a lesson for all ages, to put aside differences and be shocked by love: the deep respect of the LORD is the beginning of wisdom; all those who practice it have a good understanding. AMAZING!

          So let's jump to Paul's letter to Corinth. He's really not one to mince words: knowledge 'puffs' up but love builds up. Sounds great, to our ears; but we must remember that this was revolutionary to the folks first hearing this. Knowledge was power, and authority, and prestige - it was a commodity intended only for the elite. So to speak of it so casually, suggesting that something as commonplace and accessible to everyone as love could connect a person with God! Shocking for the ruling elite to hear that they did not have a monopoly on God; shocking for the normal folks to know that God wasn’t beyond their capacity.

          And, having dropped THAT shocker, Paul continues about the law... how it's not about stuff, but about intention. Food was, again, a dividing agent among the people, a nuance that our culture doesn't always understand. The rich ate, and even could afford to eat meat from time to time. The poor - well, basic bread, maybe a few vegetables they had grown themselves. To put on a meal for friends was a symbol of status! To have enough food to feed yourself AND give some choice cuts to the deities? Only the richest of the rich could do that - and they enjoyed pointing that out. It was a way of suggesting that they were close to their gods because of this, and that everyone else was not.

          What a shock, then, when Paul says that food is - well, just food. Earthly. Not a currency with which to buy your way into God's inner circle. And to prove that point, he says that he - the self-proclaimed greatest apostle - will give up meat and still be loved by God. Amazing - what the power of God's words can do!

          WHOOOH! Ready for my Gospel thoughts now?  It's exciting what Jesus did and said, even some 2000 years later!

          So... exactly what did he do? Well, he entered the synagogue. And TAUGHT. Boldly, unashamedly, with confidence. In he went, and taught.  Shockingly - no one stopped him. This man, this unknown person, just wanders up to the sanctuary and starts revealing the message of God as revealed in the scriptures.

          Not only that, his teachings were authoritative! This was not just a scribe, a literate person, who would read from the scroll - no, this was a man who was divulging the truth of God's love and grace to all the people, through the words on the page. Shocking - and beautiful!

          And in the midst of this, in comes a man, clearly distressed, dis-eased, accursed, claiming that this teacher has the power to destroy his demons, and that he is recognised and known on sight as the Holy One of God. To which, Jesus: unfazed, unwilling to cease his teachings - Jesus in one sentence causes the demon to be exorcised and the man to be restored.

          At this point, I think 'shocking' is an understatement! No wonder we hear that everyone was amazed, and that they all went out and spread his fame around the area! Miracles, new teachings, an unaccustomed authority. YOWSERS! Life would never be the same for these people -because of their experience of Jesus, their connection with God.

          So...

          In the past 2000 years, Jesus hasn't changed. His message hasn't changed. His teachings haven't changed.

          What has changed: is us. We aren't being amazed anymore - not because the Gospel isn't amazing - but because we can take our relationship with God and with the church - for granted. The church is here, so that's good enough. We worship on Sundays, so that's good enough. We say our daily prayers, so that's good enough.

          So here's a question to reflect on: when was the last time that God shocked you? When being a person of faith, a Christ-follower, a Christian, demanded more of you than just 'good enough'?

          Imagine with me, if you will, what our lives might look like if we were astounded by Jesus every time we heard his words, amazed that because of Jesus, even old teachings were to become new?

          And here's the next question to ponder, this one may be more difficult. Why aren't we amazed anymore? What aren't we surprised? Why are we not sharing the good news of the exciting and life-giving truth of Jesus, the Christ, the Son of God, with all those around us? And more importantly: what will it take within us to re-engage that passion, that excitement, that YOWSERS kind of enthusiasm?

          I think that  will be part of our spiritual growth: when we can examine our lives and decide that "good enough" isn't good enough. That the teachings of Jesus are important to us, and are worthy of our attention. That the words of God have authority in our thoughts and words and actions. That the power of Christ is so strong in our lives that we believe in the spiritual cleansing that comes from him - and him alone. That the reality of being in relationship with the living and loving God is SO. VERY. AMAZING! that we want to tell others, to invite them to share in this amazement.

          God is exciting. Jesus is astounding. That we have been given the gift and grace of relationship with the divine should give us comfort when we are afflicted, should encourage us to reach out when we are able, and should excite us to the point of praising God as often as we are able. We are blessed: we know the shocking truth of God, made known to us through Jesus the Christ. It literally doesn't get any better than this! So let's ensure our lives reflect that Good News to a world that is wanting… waiting… desperate to be amazed.  

Sermon, Epiphany +2

John 1.43-51

           It's an interesting spiritual transition that Nathanael has for us in today's Gospel. He goes from skeptic to cynic to believer, in a few sentences. WOW. Wouldn't it be great if all faith conversions were that easy?

            Aside from the obvious questions about what else had been happening in his life, I wonder what else is happening in these scriptures to facilitate that conversion? What happens to make that change not only possible, but probable. I think it's all about the attitude.

            When we start off, the narrative has some extreme emotions coming out. Nathanael gives us some great snark. Philip is kinda excited, yes? HEY! WE FOUND THE MESSIAH! And Nathanael says NOPE. It can't be him. That Jesus guy can't be the Messiah. Because he's coming from Nazareth. Icky Nazareth. Nazareth that might be called a... "poophole" in certain political spheres. Nazareth: Nothing good comes from that place, so surely God's chosen one, the anointed, the Messiah - would not come from there.

            Now at this point, it would have been VERY easy for Philip to either join in on the joke. Philip was from Bethsaida, after all, which was a great place to be from. Good economy, good people, growing population.

            Or, Philip could have gotten a bit defensive with Nathanael. Nazareth can't be ALL bad, even if it is a small town of no more than 400 people, you can't blame a person for where they were born.

            But instead, Philip changes the game. He doesn't in fact, respond to the location at all. Instead, he puts the focus on Jesus - that which has come from Nazareth - the person not the place. And, he also shifts the responsibility of the defense onto Nathanael himself. He changes the whole scope of the conversation with one simple phrase: Come and see.

            It's an invitation, not just to go and visually witness something, but to experience something completely different, something unexpected. Without preamble, without prejudice, without pre-judgment: Come and see.

            Now, Philip doesn't force the issue - Nathanael could have said no, and that would have been the end of it. But perhaps in that simple invitation, Nathanael recognised that there was something more than ordinary going on - something so amazing that it spoke for itself, that it didn't need introduction or emphasis. Something in Philip's very demeanor demonstrated that he had been changed by this person, this experience, and he wanted to share it.

Come and see.

            What a wonderful invitation. What a wonderful opportunity. What a great example in leadership that Philip gives to us all.

            Come, and see. Jesus is there, and you're invited to come and see. Experience the presence of the Christ for yourself; get your own experience, your own feelings, your own reality. Come, and see.

            It's powerful, isn't it, what can happen when someone chooses to accept that invitation. Look at Nathanael - from snarky and cynical, he has one brief conversation with the Lord - about sitting under a fig tree, of all things! And suddenly, Nathanael's world changes. "RABBI!" he calls out, "YOU ARE THE SON OF GOD! YOU ARE THE KING OF ISRAEL!"

A little bit of Jesus goes a long way.

            Perhaps we need to remember this when we want to invite someone to come to church, to come to Christ. Nathanael was not changed by logic, or guilt, or force, or tradition, or by anything that Philip did. He was changed by his own encounter with the living God. Philip ignored the snark and cynicism, he ignored the excuses, he ignored the presumptions and pessimism. All he did was extend an invitation.

            We, like Philip, *should* be inviting people to come to encounter God; and we do that by extending an invitation to worship in community, to be the church. It's in this wonderful community of being church that we celebrate our own experiences with God, through Christ. But our invitations need to be careful - like Philip's - to make sure they're not loaded with innuendo or guilt or pressure. Just an invitation: come, and see.

            People - all people - have pre-conceived notions of what it means to be a Christian, of what it means to come to church. I asked some social media friends to give me what they think when they hear the word "Church." My churchy friends - which, let's be honest, is the majority of my friends - answered with things like "belonging" and "community" and "fellowship" and "an old white rectangular building with a steeple and stained glass windows along the sides, arched double doors at the front." What we would expect, being in that group of people.

          From some of my non-churchy friends I got: "boring" and "judgmental" and "spontaneous human combustion, but that's just me." (Ironically, this was from the friend who stood up for me at my ordination. I assure you; there were no flames!)

            It is astonishing how big a difference there is in perception and attitude! What weight is in the words of those who have a good experience of church; what weight is in the words of the people who do not have an active and healthy relationship with the church, or with Jesus.

            So the invitation that we extend to others to come to Jesus needs to respect where these people are coming from, without making them feel that they are in the wrong place. The invitation is just that - an invitation - to come and see for themselves. It may happen in our time, it may happen in their time, it may not happen. But the invitation - gentle, honest, faithful - well it's always the right time for that.

            I pray that we move forward like the Philips, sharing our experience of an active and living relationship with God to the world around us. I pray we can celebrate just how much that relationship means to us as individuals, as family, as church. And then we can share it with the world: come, and see.

            Come and see how your life can be changed by establishing and maintaining a connection with Jesus.

            Come and see the world as God made it, beautiful and good.           

            Come and see what it means to be forgiven, loved, saved.

            Come and see what it means to live in the reality of joy and hope and    faith.

            Come and see the light of Christ that is burning deep within you, overcoming all hints of darkness.

            Come and see.

Epiphany Sermon

 Is 60.1-6; Ps 72.1-7,10-14; Eph 3.1-12; Mt 2.1-12

         Today we're celebrating the Feast of the Epiphany. The church bases this liturgical season on Matthew's introduction to the magi, the only scriptural reference to these folks who appear and worship, and go home by another route.

         Interestingly, most of our concept of these folks is based culturally, not biblically. Matthew never tells us they were 'kings;' we don't know how many there were, or what their names were. We don't know where they came from, or how long it took them, how safe it was, or how often they wanted to give up, or how many were with them... we don't know. We have more questions than answers about these people's backstory.

         On the other hand, the bible tells us *so* much about their faith, and their ministry and experience of Jesus.

         They were magi: an important and carefully chosen word for Matthew to use. Magi it connotes a highly respected religious figure, with wisdom that transcended the earthly. These 'wise men from the East' acted as foreign dignitaries, with credentials sufficient to meet Herod in person. Herod, a bully and fear-monger, who has named his capital city after himself, and is actively trying to eradicate the minority 'others' in his society (including Mary and Joseph).

         It is to his palace that the wise men show up, after a journey full of physical, emotional, and spiritual challenges, coming with expensive gifts NOT for Herod, but for a child he likely hasn't even heard of, or cared about. These men recognise Jesus' authority over Herod's, which can destabilise future foreign relations, leaving Herod and his people feeling threatened.

         How's that for a journey of faith? These magi had the confidence in God to listen to the Spirit, to recognise the star for its mystical truths, and be led by the Spirit to where they were meant to be. They left everything behind them, because of the star... and what it meant: for them, and for the world.

         They knew that this star was the light of God, calling them to make the journey. It's not unlike what Paul says: "the mystery made known by revelation" to understand the mystery of Christ, through whom by faith we "have access to God in boldness and confidence."

         These men were willing to risk all their earthly comforts and traditions because they KNEW that God was doing something amazing - and that they were a part of it. They saw the star at its rising. They took time to think and pray and discern - and they decided to go. And whatever we don't know about them, doesn't matter.

         What does matter is what Matthew tells us. They were looking for the light of God. They were listening to the guidance of the Spirit. They had the faith to follow the star, and they came to Jesus.

         They trusted: they believed the words of Isaiah! They knew that the light of God was shining - ON THEM! And that they were going to see the glory of the Lord all around them. They could feel, deep within themselves, deeper than could be explained, that the prophesy was being fulfilled. And they knew this because they always believed, and they never gave up looking.

         We know that where the Spirit leads us is where we will find God. And we will know that it is right, because it will leave us overwhelmed with joy. It doesn't necessarily mean earthly happiness - but the deep, God-given, life-giving joy of the Lord that will shine through us all.

         And when we have submitted to that joy, we can't help but to live out the pure, surprising delight that Isaiah speaks of. "ARISE! SHINE! Your light has come!"

         God gives us all our own pathways, inviting us on our own journeys to find and worship and celebrate Jesus. The light shines - a little bit differently for each of us - but it shines. It *always* shines. Inviting us to continue our journey, to be blissfully changed by it. And to respond to the world by then acting to share that light all the more. 'Arise and SHINE!' Isaiah says, not 'sit comfortably and receive'. Go out and give the light of God! Be delighted and be a delight in the glory of God that is for all people!   

         So our reflection opportunity is to learn from the example of the magi, and to apply this to our own lives. Where is the light of God shining now? How are we keeping our eyes and hearts open to recognise the glory of God shining all around us? What are we prepared to do in order to follow that light, in our own journey of faith, where it leads us ever closer to Jesus?

         I firmly believe that God is always inviting us to find Jesus in the world. God encourages us to seek the Christ in our midst, and be changed by its presence.

         Because we will be changed. We will live our lives in a different way, once we have engaged with the divine presence before us. How on earth - literally - could we not be? The wise men were changed, almost immediately: "warned by the Spirit in a dream, they left by a different route." Did they go home? Was home the same? Were the people the same? Or was the entirety of their lives transformed by having committed themselves to the journey, and by having seen and worshiped Jesus?

         I think of the ending of T.S. Eliot's poem The Journey of the Magi, which reads "[w]e returned to our places, these kingdoms, / but no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation, / with an alien people clutching their gods."

         The journey changed them. The Spirit led them. Their relationship with the world was different because their relationship with God had grown.

         So too, our lives will be changed. God touches our hearts in a way that makes us see the world differently. When we look back, we can see how God has brought to us people and circumstances where we knew that joy of being in the holy presence. We know that God continues to reveal miracles to us today. And we know that God wants for us to keep looking, and praying, and trusting, and discerning the journey.

         Make no mistake: the Spirit will continue to speak to us, thanks be to God. Whether we see a star or are visited in a dream or have a stirring in our hearts: the Spirit is always enticing us along our journey, to be closer and closer to Jesus Christ, son of God.

         I pray we have the grace and the courage to embrace God's invitation to the journey, living as shining examples of the glory of God.

Sermon, First Sunday after Christmas

Not unlike during Advent, the season of Christmas is a bit out of sorts with the world around us. In the secular world, Christmas is done, decorations stored, hopefully 11(ish) months without hearing more about Frosty and Rudolf.

         Yet here in churchland, Christmas is barely half over - in the song we're at the seven swans a-swimming, while Biblically the wise men have just reached the mid-way pit stop.

         Our scriptures today remind us that Christmas, this special time, extends beyond the one day. It's not a celebration of a fat stranger putting presents under a tree, it's a Holy Feast acknowledging the nativity and early years of the Saviour of the world. This is too big for one day. There is more praise than that amount of time can contain!

         But let's think for a few moments about the time - and timing - of praise.

         In the ancient world, there were two very distinct ways of understanding what we today call "time." This seems a fitting topic for New Year's Eve, where tonight we'll be watching in seconds-long increments to welcome 2018, emphasising the difference between just before midnight and just after midnight - even if nothing else has changed. This type of time is called chronos: it's the sequential ordering or series of events. It's the root of our word "chronological."

         But God's time is different. God doesn't wear a watch or carry a daytimer. Kairos, God's time, means the right or critical second; it's the opportune moment. But even more, it doesn't just pass like seconds on a clock -kairos is the divinely directed invitation into action. Rhetorically, it's the passing instant when an opening appears into which a certain and specific action must be taken for achievement or success. It's God's time - and God is not limited by human chronos.

         So today's scriptures give us a great way to consider the timing of things: they start to differentiate between the chronos and the kairos.

         In the reading from Isaiah, written in the post-exilic period, around 500-600 years before the birth of Jesus, people were waiting for the restoration of God's people. And what do they do? Praise. "For Zion's sake I will not keep silent!" they praise, confident that the restoration may not happen in their chronos, but will grow into the world like the earth brings for its shoots - in due season, beyond human control.

         Our psalmist brings, with a flourish, the message of praise. This praise is not limited to humans, or human control - all of creation is being invited into praise at the right time, the opportune time. Don't keep silent, it says to the weather and landscape and creatures and plants - for you too belong to God and will react in the kairosof redemption.

         The New Testament reading, though brief, is full of this connection of the kairos and the chronos coming into one. When the fullness of human time had come, the kairos happened where God's Son was delivered into the world. And that delivery came to and through a woman, and occurred under the human limitations and structure. Born of a woman, born under the law, this child would have the full human experience of chronos as part of their kairotic revelation of cosmic disclosure.

         This culminates in the gospel passage, as we hear of the very earthly, very human, realities of the chronology of Jesus; how his mother raised him according to the law, in the context of praise, and in the eternal hope of the redemption of God's people. She brought him to the temple for the ritual of purification. He would be circumcised, and named, and welcomed into the community of the faithful. It was a ritual for every firstborn son where the chronos and kairos danced with each other in an explosion of praise.

         Needless to say, Mary wanted this to be done properly. This is her firstborn Son, of whom she has heard much from many heavenly beings. She has borne God's child, therefore she will ensure that the requirements under the law are met to the best of her ability! It didn't matter to her that they were away from home and the nearest temple was full of strangers - it was still God's house for God's family. It didn't matter to her that they were a poor family, and could only afford the minimum sacrifice according to Levitical law; those turtle doves were to be offered.

         How delightful, then, that this solemn act of praise was interrupted even before it began, by two unlikely characters. First we get Simeon - an old man, who is led into the temple at that precise chronos - that day and that time - for a purpose. Having come to that chronos moment, he recognised the child, realised what it meant as the promise of redemption, and then praised God heartily! In doing this, Simeon also gave the blessing and the prophesy to Mary about the future of Jesus. Simeon, clearly, was guided through the chronos into the opportune moment, the kairos, to offer praise.

         Then we hear of Anna - the old widow, who has been patiently waiting in the temple for what seems like forever, depending entirely on the kindness of strangers. She too has spent her chronological life waiting for thekairos moment. And her faithfulness is rewarded by God, and she praises God for it. She too, was guided through the chronos into the kairos, to offer praise.

         Even as we learn that Mary and Joseph returned home and raised the child according to the law, we recognise that these are merely chronos events. And these folks were all aware of the kairos events. They knew - they understood. Like the people of Isaiah's poem before, or the community of Galatians afterwards, they knew. Time was different. Waiting through chronos was okay, no matter how long it took, because thekairos was here. And that is worthy of praise that transcends the law.

         There is much we can learn from these scriptures. We can pray to learn patience: to trust that God's perfection will permeate into this world, and our lives, at the right moments.

         We can pray to expect the unexpected: to discern how God's kairos will surprise us in our chronos, inviting and inspiring us into action.

         We can pray to have the courage to persevere: like Simeon and Anna prophesying in the temple, like Mary and Joseph through their commitment to the faith, like every community that waits expectantly for new possibilities in the name of God.

         And we can pray to have the wisdom to engage: that we might recognize those kairos moments as God discloses them to us, not to be mere witnesses to the miraculous but to realise the call to action in exciting ways as the earth more closely aligns itself to God's kingdom.

         And, we can pray to keep focus on praise: praise that we are God's children, praise that we are a part of this glorious creation, praise that God has promised us - and shown us - the salvation of the world through the person of Jesus.

         In all that we do, we strive to connect our time to God's time. May every moment of our chronos be time spent well, keeping eyes and ears open for the kairos, keeping hearts and minds oriented towards praise.