Who would Miss Your "Preaching"?

“Let us go on to the neighboring towns, so that I may proclaim my message there also, for that is what I came out to do.”

Jesus sets a tone in today’s gospel reading that distinguishes Christianity from pretty much every other major religious tradition in the world.  Eastern religions are available to provide enlightenment for those who seek it.  Judaism is a religion for a particular group of people, the Hebrews.  Islam seeks converts, but the converts are brought into the traditions and tenets of the faith.  Only Jesus goes out into the world to engage people where they live and work. 

Let’s think back over the gospel readings from the last few weeks.  While we heard them as individual stories, they are, in fact, events unfolding over just a matter of a few hours.  Jesus invites four fishermen to leave their jobs and follow him.  They go into the nearby town of Capernaum and worship in the synagogue.  There, Jesus teaches “with authority” and commands an unclean spirit to leave a person.  Today we read they leave the synagogue and go to the home of one of the fishermen.  His mother-in-law is sick with a fever, a potentially life-threatening illness in an era before modern medicine.  Jesus goes to her, takes her by the hand, lifts her up, and the fever leaves her.  She is able to resume her customary household role of tending to the needs of visitors and guests.  By nightfall everyone in town brings anyone who is ill to the house and Jesus heals all.  Before the sun comes up the next morning Jesus slips away to pray. 

Perhaps he is praying about what to do next.  Capernaum has been pretty good to Jesus.  People seem open to his message, it has a nice place to worship, a beautiful view of the Sea of Galilee, and all fish a person could want to eat.  It is not unlike the Eastern Shore – wonderfully out of the way with a relaxed vibe and self-sufficient mindset.  Jesus can stay here and set up shop.  He can preach and teach and heal until his heart is content.  Anyone who wants to hear him can come to Capernaum and find him.  I mean, if they went out to the Jordon wilderness to be baptized by John, this little village on the lakeside will seem like paradise. 

Jesus emerges from prayer and announces a very different vision to his followers.  He is going to move on and move about and he is going to proclaim his message through what he says and through the healing deeds he does.

It makes sense for Jesus to do this.  As Paul wrote, Jesus “did not count equality with God a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, taking on the human form.”  In today’s reading the person who set aside all divine prerogatives in order to become incarnate in our world announces he will take another step and then another and then another to become even closer to all people.  Jesus engages the world with God’s redeeming love and we are inheritors of this spiritual tradition.  Christianity, when it is lived properly, is an outward focused endeavor aimed at bringing God’s love to a lost and hurting world. 

Perhaps you have heard this question before.  It has been around for a long time.  If St. Paul’s closed tomorrow, other than our members, who would miss us?  There are some congregations whose honest answer might be absolutely no one.  In fact, some churches could be closed for months or even years before anyone notices at all.  This cannot be said of St. Paul’s.  Our Food Pantry clients would miss us.  The people who come here each week for A.A. meetings, Al-Anon meetings, and N.A. meetings would miss us.  Quilters and Dog Dancers would have to find some other place to gather.  Various groups that use our facilities over the course of the year would miss us.  People who enjoy coming to the holiday handbell concert would miss us.  People who like pecans, work downtown and park in our lot, or who just enjoy the beauty of our building and a green space on Main Street would miss us.  Groups and organizations we support on a regular basis, such as Boys Home, Jackson-Feild Home, Episcopal Relief & Development, Chanco, CAPS, and the diocese, would miss us. 

As we saw at the Annual Meeting, our average attendance on a typical Sunday morning last year dipped slightly below 80 people after hovering near 100 just a few years ago.  The Vestry and I are committed to on-going reflection about this.  Average Sunday attendance is an important measure of a congregation, but it is just one measure.  By most other measures St. Paul’s is a dynamic and vital church whose members are faithful and generous. 

At our Vestry retreat last weekend we looked at another way to measure a congregation.  How many people do we engage over the course of a typical week?  How many people come into the building or participate in a ministry or come here for an event or activity or just simply drop by to say hello?  While not as easy to track, we have approximately 375 engagements each week (and this number does not take into account the people we reach through our on-line presence).  Now, we engage some people more than once over the course of the week.  Kitty Quillin, for example, is here Monday night for Food Pantry, Tuesday night for Bell Choir, Thursday night for Choir, perhaps on Saturday for Altar Guild, and Sunday morning for worship.  She alone accounts for 5 engagements each week! 

Your Vestry and I are pondering some of the things we might do to increase the number of people who engage St. Paul’s over the course of a typical week.  We are not planning on closing our doors anytime soon, but if we did we want even more people to miss us.  Because we have a fixed physical building, which is a tremendous asset in our work and ministry, we are not able to pick up and move from town to town, as Jesus did.  Our calling is not to be an itinerant congregation.  We are called to engage the community from and with this space, making St. Paul’s a center of God’s love and healing for all people.

Here is another question for you to ponder.  It gets to the heart of how you live out your faith:  If you were to move away from our community tomorrow, other than those of us at St. Paul’s, who would miss you?  How would the community be poorer without you?  In what ways would your witness to the Christian faith and life beyond these walls be missed?  Just as the question about our church gets at the heart of our call to reach out beyond ourselves, so too this one asks you to ponder how you are living the faith “from town to town”.

The Catechism states in part “the ministry of lay persons is to represent Christ and his Church; to bear witness to him wherever they may be”.  We Episcopalians do not go about thumping on our bibles at public meetings nor do we tend to stand on a soapbox in the town square preaching at every person who passes by.  Our faith motivates us to get involved, to make a difference, and to contribute to the common good.  We carry God’s presence and healing love with us wherever we go.  And we like what St. Francis is reported to have said, “Preach the gospel always, and when necessary use words.”  If you were to move away, other than us here at St. Paul’s, who would miss your “preaching”?

What to You and Me?

Old Father Jones retires after serving as a parish’s rector for 35 years.  Father Smith, a young priest and recent seminary graduate, accepts a call to replace him.  Celebrating the Eucharist for the first time in the parish, young Father Smith is surprised when half the congregation stands throughout the entire Eucharistic prayer while the other half kneels.  The tension between the two groups is palatable.  After the service Father Smith asks the two groups about the parish’s tradition.  “We always stand for the prayer,” some say rather forcefully.  “No, we always, always kneel,” say others indignantly.  A heated argument ensues.  Father Smith decides to pay a visit to Father Jones to learn more.  He tells Father Jones, “Some contend the parish’s tradition is to stand.”  “No,” says Father Jones, “standing is not the tradition.”  “So the tradition is to kneel?”  “No, this is not the parish’s tradition either.”  “Well, I don’t understand,” says a dismayed Father Smith, “all they do is fight about the matter.”  “Ah,” says Father Jones, “fighting is the parish’s tradition.”

Last week we learned how Jesus invited Peter, Andrew, James, and John – all fishermen – to follow him.  The first two walk away from their nets and second two leave their father’s boat and business and all go with Jesus.  The group heads straight into town and when the Sabbath arrives goes to the local synagogue to worship. 

Now, synagogue worship is not quite like what we do here on Sunday morning.  You come here this morning expecting to hear me preach and celebrate.  And you expect a certain order and orderliness to our worship.  Those who go to synagogue expect a wild and wooly give-and-take as all present engage in open discussion and debate about the meaning of the texts read at the service.  It is a kind of free-for-all where multiple people – including visitors – feel free to weigh in.  The discussion/debate is an unregulated, participatory event pocked with twists and turns.

Into this arena steps Jesus.  The text does not tell us what he says, it reports only he teaches with “authority.”  It is not at all clear what it means by this.  It does not seem to be a reference to charisma or power.  Most likely “authority” is a reference to how Jesus cites himself to validate what he says.  Think how Matthew’s gospel uses the formula of Jesus saying, “You have heard it said…, but I say to you...”  Jesus validates his teaching by referencing himself.  Mark tells us the local scribes do not teach with this kind of authority.  It is not that Jesus is an exciting teacher while they are dull and dry.  It means the scribes derive their authority by being able to reference the teachings of rabbis from the past whereas Jesus has developed his own thoughts and ideas about things.

The text tells us the people in the synagogue are “astounded” at his teaching.  Astounded seems to me to be something of an ambiguous term.  It does not mean offended nor does it mean impressed.  What Jesus says shocks his listeners.  It leaves them flabbergasted and speechless.  They recognize there is something about Jesus but they just don’t know what to make of it or what to do with him.

Perhaps the reason Mark does not record what Jesus says is because he wants to focus on what Jesus does.  And in this particular situation, actions speak louder than words.  A person “with an unclean spirit” bursts out with a piercing cry that reverberates throughout in the synagogue.

I have a vivid memory from when I was young of being in our large, well-to-do church located in an upscale, established neighborhood of the west end of Akron.  A rather disheveled street person entered the sanctuary as the service was in progress, walked down the center aisle, and seated himself in the second or third pew.  His very presence put people on edge.  After sitting quietly for about ten minutes, he stood up, interrupted the service, and announced he had something he wanted to say.  A middle-aged man sitting near this fellow grabbed his coat and his wife and together they fled the church in near panic.  I can still recall the look of fear on their faces as they made a hasty retreat.

I wonder if this is the initial reaction of the people in the Capernaum synagogue on this day.  Does the man crying out catch them completely off guard or have they seen his act before? 

A literal translation of what the person/unclean spirit says to Jesus is “what to you and us?”  It is a blunt inquiry into to the relationship between them and the consequences of their meeting. 

And notice this, the unclean spirit displays an orthodox understanding, “I know who you are.  You are the Holy One of God.”  It is an affirmation of Jesus’ identity far beyond anything anyone else in the room understands at the time.  Because the unclean spirit understands Jesus’ identity, Mark’s storytelling focus falls heavily on “what to you and us?” – what are the implications of Jesus’ identity for the person with the unclean spirit?

In a very real sense this person gets it in a way everyone else in the synagogue does not.  They are astonished by Jesus’ sense of authority.  This guy, with his troubling spirit, understands how Jesus’ authority stakes a claim on every person and every relationship and every aspect of life.  And one thing Jesus claims for all people is health and wellbeing.  Whatever tortures or torments an individual will not stand.  Jesus will not allow it.  The unclean spirit recognizes Jesus will not tolerate its destructive dominance over the person it occupies.  And the person, repressed for so long, recognizes liberation is at hand, an understanding which can be both exhilarating and terrifying. 

With one simple command Jesus banishes the unclean spirit.  I call it the “clergy voice”. 

Some of you were volunteering in the Food Pantry when two of our clients, waiting in the Parish Hall, got into a loud, profane, verbal confrontation and in a matter a seconds my “clergy voice” came out:  “What is going on here?  You.  Sit down now!  You, come with me right now and get your food then leave.  This is not the kind of conduct we tolerate in this place.”  I remember walking the one person to the pantry and getting the sense everyone was ASTOUNDED at what they witnessed me do.  Clergy voice can be very effective, if used sparingly.   

Those in the synagogue move from being astonished to being amazed.  What Jesus does makes credible what Jesus says.  He doesn’t just talk a big game, he backs it up.

So here we sit in our beautiful church some 2,000 years later listening to this story during what hopefully will be a tranquil and uneventful Sunday morning.  The question of the person with the unclean spirit is our question as well: Jesus, what to you and me?  As you stand before Jesus what in your life cries out?  What troubles you?  What torments you?  Does something or someone dominate you?  Jesus’ deep desire is to set you free.  Free to flourish as the gifted human being God has created you to be.  Free to love and live in relationship with others.  Free to praise God and to pray for yourself and on behalf of others.  Free to celebrate all the goodness God has infused in creation.

This weekend your 2018 Vestry and I met in retreat to organize and plan for the coming year.  We also spent time in conversation around a series of prayers written by a Ted Loder, a Methodist pastor, and published in a 1984 book titled Guerrillas of Grace.   This prayer is called Guide me into an Unclenched Moment.  The opposite of unclenched is clenched.  Think about this as you listen to the prayer ponder the times and ways you feel clenched in your life:

Guide me,

Holy one,

into an unclenched moment,

a deep breath,

    a letting go

        of heavy expectations,

            of shivering anxieties,

                of dead certainties,

that, softened by the silence,

surrounded by the light,

    and open to the mystery,

I may be found by wholeness,

upheld by the unfathomable,

    entranced by the simple,

        and filled with the joy

            that is you.

I suspect, like me, you do not consider yourself to be the unwilling host of an unclean spirit.  But, perhaps like me and like the members of our Vestry, the notion of being clenched resonates with you.  Jesus stands before you as One with authority.  Jesus, what to you and me?  How does your presence create silence?  Light?  Openness to mystery?  How do you uphold me by means I cannot create or fathom?  How do you entrance with the simple and fill with joy?  How do you guide me into an unclenched moment?  Jesus, what to you and me?

Good News / Bad News

I am a fan of “Good News/Bad News” jokes, so imagine my joy when I came across this genre of about ministers:

The Good News: You baptized seven people today in the river.  The Bad News: You lost two of them in the strong current.

The Good News: The Women’s Guild voted to send you a get-well card.  The Bad News: The vote passed by 31-30.

The Good News: The Vestry accepted your job description the way you wrote it.  The Bad News: They were so inspired by it they formed a search committee to find somebody capable of filling the position.

The Good News: Church attendance rose dramatically the last three weeks.  The Bad News: You were on vacation.

The Good News: The Vestry voted to pay your airfare for an oversea mission trip.  The Bad News: They are stalling with the payment until war breaks out in the country.

The Good News: Your women’s softball team finally won a game.  The Bad News: They beat your men’s softball team.

John Brandon is a contributing editor for Inc.com.  He wrote an article for Inc about how people react to bad news.  In it he describes these scenarios:

The client just called.  He is not going to renew.

At a tech conference, your boss tells everyone in the group you are not pulling your weight.

You come back to your desk to find a pink slip.

What do you do when you receive bad news? 

I know many of you have sat in your doctor’s office and heard her say, “The tests came back and I have some bad news…”  I remember in 2007 and 2008 how common it was to turn on the TV and hear “There is more bad news today about the stock market.”  We got some bad news at St. Paul’s two weeks ago and it came in the form of a broken pipe and water cascading down from the kitchen ceiling.

What do you do when you get bad news?

In the Gospel of Mark, before Jesus begins his public ministry he hears some bad news.  He learns John the Baptist has been imprisoned by Herod Antipas, the Roman tetrarch of Galilee.  John publically rebuked Herod for his many faults and moral failings; a lengthy list to be sure, which includes marring his brother’s wife.  John’s scathing criticism lands him in prison and Jesus must know it will not end well.

Just a few verses earlier in Mark’s gospel Jesus makes a long pilgrimage from Nazareth to the Jordon River to be baptized by John.  After this the text tells us he goes into the wilderness for forty days.  Then Mark says, “After John was arrested…”  He doesn’t tell us how much time has passed, only what Jesus does next is in response to this bad news. 

Mark says, “After John was arrested, Jesus came to Galilee.”  So Jesus returns to his home region, to an area ruled by the very person who has John imprisoned.  If this does not seem wise to you neither will what Jesus does next.  Jesus himself begins to speak publically.  Mark tells us that in response to the bad news of John’s arrest, Jesus proclaims “the good news of God.”

Perhaps you battle a natural urge to shutdown in the face of bad news.  It is easy to feel overwhelmed and overmatched.  When the kitchen pipe broke and gallons upon gallons of water was falling from multiple places in the church’s newly remodeled kitchen and pantry I was aware I was not dealing with it well.  I was also aware of six or seven people around me who were.  They captured water in trashcans, called the fire department to get the water shut off, and, once the water stopped, began to clear off counters and shelves in order to dry off every wet thing and surface.  For the most part, I stood by in a fog contemplating the disaster at hand and wondering how much havoc is was going to wreak on the schedule of events involving the kitchen. 

What do you do when you receive bad news… give up or get going?

John Brandon, the Inc editor, faced this very question.  He writes:

One of the worst days of my life was when I was ousted from a corporate job.  I drove home that night and my wife came up with the idea of being a writer.  I jumped into action.  I’m not saying I was all that confident at the time, but it was a lesson for me.  I pounded the pavement for weeks and months.  I reacted [to bad news] with action.  It’s a good thing, because I’ve been writing ever since.

I am consistently impressed with how members of this parish refuse to take bad health news laying down.  You educate yourself about various diagnoses, treatment options, community resources, and all the things you can do to put yourself in the best position to be healthy and cured.  And once you are healthy and cured you find ways to reach out and support others who are just beginning the journey after receiving their bad news.

A team of psychologists studied why some people react to bad news with confidence while others do not.  They determined people quit when they are uncertain about their own ability to produce a desired result or when they are uncertain their actions with will lead to a desired effect.  They offer two definitions that, while technical, are insightful.  The first is world-certainty and uncertainty:

We define world-certainty as the feeling that desirable outcomes can be achieved and undesirable ones avoided because the path connecting means and ends is clearly predictable and stable.

The more you understand the situation the more confident you are taking action.

The second term is self-certainty:

We define self-certainty as the feeling that one can learn and follow the steps associated with achieving one’s goals, and self-uncertainty as feeling doubtful that one can learn and follow the steps associated with such goals.

The more you believe in yourself the more likely you will initiate an effort to make a situation better.

We people of faith might add to these God-certainty.  We believe God is engaged with us and at work in this world to create a community where God’s dream for all people and all creation is normative.  This is what we call the good news.  And we people of faith are certain God’s good news may be challenged by the world’s bad news, but it is never overcome by it. 

The comedian Tracy Morgan observes “Bad news travels at the speed of light; good news travels like molasses.”  For Jesus, bad news sparks the opportunity to proclaim good news.  He launches a ministry to preach and teach God is good and gracious and God is with us and for us.  Jesus invites others to follow him, people who find his vision of life so compelling they drop everything they are doing to learn more about it.  Eventually they make it their personal mission to proclaim this good news as far and wide as humanly possible.

We are a people of good news.  For some time I have struggled with the image of the kingdom of God because (1) we don’t live in the kingdom so it is difficult to connect with this idea and (2) kingdom seems to imply everyone is a part of it and clearly there are many disinterested in God’s sovereign reign in this world and claim on their lives.  More and more I am warming up to the image of community as a better way to envision God’s presence in the world.  We at St. Paul’s are a community of God’s people who proclaim the good news through what we say and what we do.  We live it with and for one another and as a witness to the world.  And we invite and welcome everyone to be a part of our fellowship of God’s good news.

Following Jesus

An office manager buys a sign at a novelty store and hangs it on his office door.  It reads, “I am the boss.”  When he comes to work the next day he discovers someone has stuck a post-it note on his sign and written on it this message: “Your wife called and she wants her sign back.”

On the Second Sunday after the Epiphany the appointed Lectionary reading always tells a story about Jesus inviting people to follow him.  I had a professor who defined a leader as being a person who will take a group to a place it cannot get on its own.  I always thought this is a good definition of leadership – the ability to take people to a place they cannot get on their own.  Think about the people in leadership roles in your life and consider how they do or do not fit this definition.  Think about the leadership roles you fill and ponder if it applies.

Here is another question for you to ponder: In what ways are you a follower?  Being labeled a “follower” has a negative feel to it.  When we say, “Oh, he is a follower” we are implying the person does not have leadership potential.  We talk about being a “blind follower”, which is not a good thing either.  Still, good and capable followers are absolutely essential to the success of any enterprise.  Did you happen to see the PBS program this week on Teddy Roosevelt’s journey down an uncharted river in the heart of the Amazon jungle?  Roosevelt was a co-leader on the expedition, but it was supported by dozens of native people.  Without the efforts of these followers the ex-president would never have been successful.  In fact, he would have died.

American businessman Max de Pree contends “the signs of outstanding leadership appear primarily among the followers.”  He asks,

Are the followers reaching their potential?  Are they learning?  Serving?  Do they achieve the required results?  Do they change with grace?  Manage conflict?

Following, at its best, is an active and engaged process where we allow a person to shape and develop us in ways we could not grow on our own.

When Jesus invites Philip to follow him he is initiating a relationship where Philip will be molded and shaped into a new person.  He will learn to live as Jesus lives, to love as Jesus loves, to forgive as Jesus forgives, to heal as Jesus heals, to inspire hope as Jesus inspires hope.  Jesus’ leadership is transformational.  He leads Philip and the other disciples to a place where they become new people.  And, as new people, they become leaders themselves, attracting followers who they then mold and shape into the image of Jesus.

This morning we initiate Sadie Grace McNett into the Christian faith and life.  Because she is not old enough to speak for herself her parents and sponsors are making vows on her behalf.  By so doing, they are taking a leadership role in her life.  If no one ever intervened, it is doubtful Sadie would grow up on her own to be the kind of person we aspire to be through our baptismal liturgy.  It will be up to Cory and Chloe and the rest of the family to help her develop in ways she cannot develop on her own. 

Jimmy Collins retired from Chick-fil-A as President and Chief Operations Officer after 32 years of service.  He was there at the beginning when S. Truett Cathy opened the very first store and he helped him build the franchise into a $6 billion business.  In 2013, Collins published a book about his experience titled Creative Followership: In the Shadow of Greatness.  It is chock full of common sense insights about being a follower and it has much to say to those of us who are committed to following Jesus:

· Followers choose to follow a leader with a compelling purpose, vision, cause, or goal, the unifying purpose.  It is the leader’s unifying purpose that attracts the interest and loyalty of followers.  The unifying purpose joins the followers to the leader.

· Who we are is who we attract.   If the leader is highly effective with equally high expectations, the follower must possess similar character traits or the relationship will be short lived.

· When following, our competencies will often be very different from the leader.   This allows our strengths to offset the leader’s weakness.   But when it comes to character, we must always be in alignment.

· A trusted and established follower shares the reputation of the leader, as well as much of the leader’s influence.

· A supportive follower realizes they are there not only to share the leader’s reputation, but also to uphold and strengthen the leader’s reputation.  Followers should always serve as an extension of the leader. 

· With influence comes a great deal of responsibility.

· When we are borrowing influence from a leader, we are responsible for using it with the highest integrity.

· As we demonstrate the ability to use the influence to move the organization forward in a positive and productive way, we will be loaned more and more influence.  The key to gaining more influence is to proactively accept responsibility by doing things better than expected, before they are expected, and by doing more than is expected.

When David Marquet, a decorated Navy officer, was appointed captain of the USS Santa Fe, it was the worst performing nuclear-powered submarine in the fleet.  The ship’s crew was dogged by poor morale and an abysmal retention rate.  About a month into his duties, while leading the crew through a series of drills, Marquet unknowingly gave an order that was impossible to follow, but the crew tried to follow it anyway.  Upon reviewing the results of the exercise, Marquet asked why no one challenged his order.  The response, “Because you told us to do it.”  In an instant Marquet realized he was leading a culture of followers who were not invested in the outcome of the ship’s performance.

He began to push for leadership at every level of the Santa Fe’s crew.  Grounded in his belief “Leadership should mean giving control rather than taking control and creating leaders rather than forging followers”, Marquet molded the crew into a group fully engaged in every decision from clerical tasks to combat actions.  Eventually the ship began to earn fleet awards and have officers promoted to higher positions of command on other submarines.

Think about the things Collins and Marquet believe about followers and translate them into imperatives for Christian discipleship.  We are drawn to Jesus by his compelling vision of life.  His vision binds us together.  Jesus expects much of us.  We bear his reputation and his influence.  As such, we have great opportunities and great responsibility.  People have a right to expect they will meet and see Jesus in us.  Far from being a passive enterprise, following Jesus requires us to be actively engaged in every aspect of life and faith and church.  As St. Teresa says, we now are Christ’s hands and Christ’s feet and Christ’s body on earth.  I don’t know if Philip understood all of this when he accepted Jesus’ invitation to follow him, but in time he (and the other disciples) began to understand.  I don’t know if you understood this at your baptism or even at your confirmation, but I trust you get it now.  Jesus is a leader who takes you to a place you cannot get on your own.

Is It True?

Is it true?  Is it true?

I cannot imagine a more dramatic swing in tone and content from the gospel reading on Christmas Eve to the gospel reading this morning.  On Christmas Eve we heard Luke’s heart-warming story of a birth and a manger and angels and shepherds.  It is the stuff of carols and TV specials.  This morning we listen to the soaring and majestic language of a portion of Scripture known as the prologue of John’s gospel. 

“In the beginning was the Word and the Word was with God and the Word was God.” 

It is an incredible claim.

While Luke tells us the baby is the Son of God and that this child will do extraordinary, fantastic things, it is still possible to image Jesus to be someone like you and me.  After all, we too are children of God.  It is easy enough to think of Jesus as being just like us with the only difference being his life and his deeds are more special than yours and mine – sort of like George Washington and I are both Americans, only his life is measurably way more important than mine.  You might be able to walk away from Christmas Eve thinking about the baby Jesus in this way.  But, it is an option taken off the table this morning. 

“He was in the beginning with God.  All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being.” 

John presents us with a reality that smashes to pieces any notion Christmas is a just light, gentle, fluffy, sentimental moment to be celebrated with family and friends.  For John, the Incarnation is a cosmic event having the Creative Force responsible for all reality becoming one of us in order to bring light into the darkness of our making. 

“And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, the glory of the father’s only son, full of grace and truth.”

Today’s reading challenges us to reassess our assumptions about the Incarnation; to ask who this baby is and what the purpose of his birth might be.  The British poet John Betjeman beautifully captures all of this in his poem Christmas:

The bells of waiting Advent ring,
The Tortoise stove is lit again
And lamp-oil light across the night
Has caught the streaks of winter rain
In many a stained-glass window sheen
From Crimson Lake to Hookers Green.

The holly in the windy hedge
And round the Manor House the yew
Will soon be stripped to deck the ledge,
The altar, font and arch and pew,
So that the villagers can say
‘The church looks nice’ on Christmas Day.

Provincial Public Houses blaze,
Corporation tramcars clang,
On lighted tenements I gaze,
Where paper decorations hang,
And bunting in the red Town Hall
Says ‘Merry Christmas to you all’.

And London shops on Christmas Eve
Are strung with silver bells and flowers
As hurrying clerks the City leave
To pigeon-haunted classic towers,
And marbled clouds go scudding by
The many-steepled London sky.

And girls in slacks remember Dad,
And oafish louts remember Mum,
And sleepless children’s hearts are glad.
And Christmas-morning bells say ‘Come!’
Even to shining ones who dwell
Safe in the Dorchester Hotel.

And is it true, is it true,
This most tremendous tale of all,
Seen in a stained-glass window’s hue,
A Baby in an ox’s stall ?
The Maker of the stars and sea
Become a Child on earth for me ?

And is it true ? For if it is,
No loving fingers tying strings
Around those tissued fripperies,
The sweet and silly Christmas things,
Bath salts and inexpensive scent
And hideous tie so kindly meant,

No love that in a family dwells,
No carolling in frosty air,
Nor all the steeple-shaking bells
Can with this single Truth compare -
That God was man in Palestine
And lives today in Bread and Wine.

It is easy to get caught up in all the trimmings and trappings of Christmas and never once give thought to what it is all about.  It is easy, as we say, to have the experience, but miss the meaning.  God in the flesh has come into God’s creation to show us how to live and move and have our being in the world as God intends it to be.  Jesus comes into the world he has made – a world we have made into a broken down, dark, and selfish place – to be a bright and restorative light.  It is a light, as Betjeman observes, we receive every time we partake of the bread and wine.

We leave the church on Christmas Eve with joy in our hearts, humming the tune of a carol in our head.  This morning, if you are really listening, you should leave this service with a question: Is it true?  Not true in the sense of did this really happen, but true in the sense of is this really what it means.  If John gets it right in the beginning of his gospel, we are living in a reality made new by God’s Incarnation in our world. 

“To all who received him, who believed in his name, he gave power to become children of God… From his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace.”

Is it true?  Is it true?

The Angels' Song

If you know me at all you know I am a big fan of Christmas music.  According to the iTunes file on my home computer, I have 2,086 Christmas songs and it would take four days and seven hours to listen to all of it.  Care to guess the Christmas song of which I have the most different versions?

·    God rest ye merry gentlemen – 27

·    Have yourself a merry little Christmas – 31

·    Jingle Bells – 32

·    Silent Night – 57

You may be interested to know carols have been around for thousands of years.  The first are sung at pagan celebrations of the Winter Solstice.  Early Christians begin to supplant this ancient tradition with one of their own.  By the year 129 A.D. a bishop directs a song called Angel’s Hymn is to be at a Christmas service in Rome.  This new tradition continues to grow and expand over the centuries, but by the Middle Ages people lose interest in Christmas altogether.  St. Francis creates a revival in celebrating Christmas in 1223 when he begins to stage Nativity Plays throughout Italy.  These productions include songs and canticles and with this Christmas carols begins to spread throughout Europe once again.  Oliver Cromwell and his Puritan regime put an official stop to caroling in England for a brief period of time, but even then the faithful meet in secrete to sing.  The Victorian era sees a resurgence of caroling which has grown and expanded undiminished to our own time.

Singing, it seems to me, is the language of Christmas.  Dr. Seuss knows this because after the Grinch steals all the presents and holiday trappings from Whoville, his heart melts when he hears the undeterred joyfully residents signing carols.   The tradition of singing at Christmas dates all the way back to the chorus of heavenly hosts on the holy night of our Lord’s birth.  I wonder what it sounded like.  And I wonder why only a few shepherds hear it.  Surly the radiant throng singing praise to God has some heft to its volume.  So why do only a few people hear it?  Edmund Sears, a Unitarian minister of the 19^th Century, might suggest this as an answer: only the shepherds hear because they are the only one’s listening.  Everyone else is asleep or distracted. 
Edmund Sears is thought to be the author of the first Christmas Carol written in America.  Titled The Angel’s Song, it first appeared in print on December 29, 1849.  We now refer to it by its first line, “It came upon a midnight clear.”  At the time he writes it, Sears is troubled by the outbreak of war in Europe while America is still recovering from its own costly conflict with Mexico.   

It came upon the midnight clear,

that glorious song of old,

from angels bending near the earth

to touch their harps of gold!

“Peace on the earth, good will to men,

from heaven’s all gracious King!”

The world in solemn stillness lay

to hear the angels sing.

We understand Sear’s longing for peace on earth and good will among all people.  It is timeless, as deeply desired today as it was 168 years ago.

In his carol, Sears contends angels continue to sing in our own day, but we are not listening:  

Still through the cloven skies they come

with peaceful wings unfurled

and still their heavenly music floats

o’er all the weary world;

above its sad and lowly plains

they bend on hovering wing.

And ever o’er its Babel sounds

the blessed angels sing.

Yet with the woes of sin and strife

the world hath suffered long;

beneath the angel-strain have rolled

two thousand years of wrong;

and man, at war with man, hears not

the love song which they bring:

O hush the noise, ye men of strife,

and hear the angels sing.

At every celebration of the Eucharist, we join our voices with angels, archangels, and all the company of heaven who forever are singing a hymn of praise to God, so I think Sears is on to something.  Ever hovering over our world, the heavenly host continues to sing the message of Christ’s birth – peace on earth and good will.  It is a song too few hear because too few listen for it.  

Regrettably, the fourth verse of the carol is omitted from our hymnal.  It speaks directly to each person who is burdened and worn out by life; to every person on the verge of giving up and giving in:

And ye, beneath life’s crushing load,

whose forms are bending low,

who toil along the climbing way

with painful steps and slow,

look now! for glad and golden hours

come swiftly on the wing.

O rest beside the weary road,

and hear the angels sing!

I think one the reasons I love Christmas music is because, as Sears suggests, it has a power to rejuvenate, to remind us of our better angels, and to rekindle a hopeful, heaven-born dream for our time.  It is why we love so dearly to come to this place on this night and sing. 

Sears concludes his carol with a conviction one day the angels’ song will be heard and sung by everyone.

For lo! the days are hastening on,

by prophet bards foretold,

when, with the ever-circling years,

shall come the Age of Gold;

when peace shall over all the earth

its ancient splendors fling,

and all the world give back the song

which now the angels sing.

Tonight I invite you to listen for the angels’ song, to let its message fill you with joy while instilling in you abiding hope for the day to come.  I invite you to welcome God’s peace into your life and encourage you to extend good will whenever and wherever possible.  I invite you to listen to the angels in the pews around you as we sing.  And I invite you to sing yourself. 

Let me leave you with a verse by Mildred L. Jarrell:

Let us have music for Christmas…

sound the trumpet of joy and rebirth;

let each of us try, with a song in our hearts,

to bring peace to all on earth.