"Blessed"

Matthew 5:1-12

 

        The most difficult task I have many Sunday mornings is laying out an argument that the words of Jesus actually make sense. Notice I did not say I was trying to convert you to those words. Some of the things the Gospel writers have recorded leave me shaking my head. Nowhere is that more true than in these verses we call the Beatitudes. Where is the practicality in those beloved verses?

Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth. In any national election that platform might win 2% of the popular vote. When does meekness inherit anything?

Blessed are the peacemakers, for they shall be called the children of God. In trying to be a peacemaker I have been called a lot of things, most of them I cannot repeat in church, but I am seldom called a child of God.

Blessed are those who mourn. Maybe this is the most difficult. While I believe in life and death we belong to God, the folks mourning seldom seem blessed. Yet I continue, beyond all common sense, to love these verses.

My problem with the Beatitudes began when I discovered a version of the Bible called Good News for Modern Man. You might remember it. It was that translation in Modern English accompanied by little stick figures that illustrated many of the pages. The Good News Bible substituted the word “happy” for “blessed”. This is not an inaccurate translation. In both the Greek and Hebrew language, happy and blessed are interchangeable. My problem was, “Happy are those who mourn,” didn’t work so well the first time I encountered a death in my family.

Then somewhere in my biblical studies I learned “blessed” was one of those words that points forward. This is particularly true in the gospel of Matthew. Jesus was always talking about the kingdom of God. In Matthew, it was not something that had arrived but definitely was coming. Matthew, more than any other gospel writer wrote, “When the kingdom arrives you will be blessed, you will be happy, you will understand the wisdom and the benevolence of God.” Matthew is writing in one time, expecting another. To embrace the words of Matthew you have to live in this time while preparing yourself for tomorrow. The Beatitudes are the most unrealistic and yet most practical words anyone could ever utter. But they are not for impatient people.

No one has used this formula better than the African-American church. Listen to their sermons. Sing their songs. They are about movement. They sing about crossing the river, climbing the mountain, seeing on the other side. This was the black preacher’s language symbolizing what one day they hoped their children would experience. So many sermons end, “How long? Not Long. How Long? Not long, for my eyes have seen the glory of the Lord.”

Using this analogy, the Beatitudes become a formula by which we not only visualize the kingdom of God, we work to bring it about. “Blessed are those who work for the kingdom of God believing someday, someone else will be satisfied.”

Howard Thurman tells the story of a ninety year old man planting pecan seedlings. His grandson came up to him and said, “Grandpa, what are you doing? Why would you plant a tree knowing you will never eat its fruit?”

The old man smiled and said, “But you will.”   (stop)

This year I will celebrate my 67^th birthday. In this church that makes me middle age. I love so many things about this congregation. Perhaps first and foremost is we dream forward. Today we dedicate the new addition to our building. I remember most of the conversations that took place as we made this decision. The number one question was, “How will this help us serve the people of our valley?”

When you build, when you love, when your primary motivation for ministry is “the other” you will eventually be blessed. Why? Because the most irrational words Jesus ever spoke are the most rational words we will ever hear.

When you choose humility, or sit with those who mourn; when you hunger for righteousness, or are merciful; when your heart is pure, or you choose to be the peacemaker; when you are persecuted for a holy cause, someone, somewhere, will be blessed. How do I know this? Because standing beside the stranger, holding up the imprisoned or speaking on behalf of those silenced never escapes the eyes and heart of God.

        Can I get an Amen? (amen)         Thanks be to God!

Looking Foolish

I Cor. 1:18-25

 

No one wants to look foolish, yet Paul admonishes us to be fools for Christ.  I have to admit I have both embraced and struggled with this concept my entire adult life. We celebrate logic. As coherent beings we do not easily excuse lapses of irrational judgment. But then this illusive thing we call faith pushes us to precarious conclusions that only make sense to those who claim Christ as Lord.

I fully get that, but no one likes to be seen as foolish. A few months ago I was getting ready to preach.  I was sitting in that chair, listening to the reading to the New Testament scripture, waiting to be called forward to deliver my take on the text.  The last thing I noticed before standing up was I was wearing a blue and brown sock.  Since I wash, fold and iron my own clothes I had no one to blame but myself.  Here I was, about to add wisdom to the perfect Word of the Lord in my imperfect uniform.  Why should it matter?  Certainly John the Baptist was no model for GQ.  And yet I worried my message might be marred if someone noticed my foolish sock selection.

I have a good friend who is a Baptist minister.   Ron is always very particular about his appearance.  For reasons that are beyond me his tie, belt, shoes and socks always match.  Every Friday he makes a weekly pilgrimage to his barber, a ritual I find …….. amusing.  I remember meeting him once in mid-winter for a late lunch.  My eyes were drawn to the smudges on his forehead.  I knew Ron would have died if he had known something about his appearance was out of place. I struggled, wondering if I should I point out he had inadvertently scratched his head, leaving some dirt that must have been on his fingers.  But then I had another problem. To do so would terribly embarrass him.  Ron was so kept he didn’t get his hands dirty when he played golf.  What was I to do?   Before I could speak he said, “I notice you have no ashes on your forehead. When are you having your Ash Wednesday Service?”  Imagine my embarrassment having a Baptist reminding me it was Ash Wednesday. Suddenly his imperfections perfectly complimented his impeccable faith.  As it turns out, I was the foolish one.    

How often do we to take the insignificant matters of life so serious we leave far too little time for that which really matters?  Imagine living in the time of Paul.  Much of his ministry took place on the Greek Peninsula.   In the first century of the Common Era, Greece was the center of intellectual discourse.  The writings of Socrates, Plato and Aristotle were as familiar to Greek children as text messaging is to ours.   They followed the Socratic advice that the “unexamined life is not worth living.”  They believed Aristotle’s axiom that “Nature does nothing without purpose”. They argued endlessly concerning anything and everything. Paul arrived and wanted to interject the good news of Jesus Christ into their logical discussions.  Paul stood out like someone leaving an Ash Wednesday Service wearing the wrong socks.  He appeared absolutely foolish.  The Greeks were engaged in serious discussions concerning the nature of humanity, not some fairy tale about a benevolent god.  They were attempting to discover the truth of the human soul while Paul wanted to discuss a radical formula for the forgiveness of sins.  Eventually Paul was excluded from the discussions and told his conclusions came from the overactive imaginations of hysterical women.  To talk about resurrection was sheer foolishness.  Paul not only accepted but embraced the role of fool allowing their perceptions to evolve into one of his richest analogies. 

In I Corinthians he wrote, “We proclaim Christ crucified.  It may be seen as foolishness to the Gentiles.  But I tell you God’s foolishness is wiser than human wisdom.”

I suspect I am like most of you. I grew up being told the cross represents love, forgiveness, mercy, grace and salvation. Two of my favorite songs as a kid were, “The Old Rugged Cross” and “In the Cross of Christ I Glory.” Every church I have ever belonged to celebrated the cross as the center piece of their sanctuary. This church is no exception. Paul did not have that luxury.  In his time the cross embodied pain, suffering, punishment, hate and death.  How can a symbol of hate be understood as a sign of God’s grace?   What Paul’s world saw as monstrous was being sold as the vehicle for life. A lot of folks refused to even try to understand the radical leap Paul was attempting. It was easier to just label him a fool. So imagine the response when Paul embraced that label.

I cannot imagine anyone wanting to look like a fool.  We like to keep our foreheads clean and wear socks that are the same color.  The problem is, how can we tell God’s story without appearing to be just a little bit nuts? Well, perhaps we can’t.

Friday I was not in a celebratory mood and  I suggested to my equally miserable wife we should go to the movies and discover what all the buzz was about concerning, “La-La Land”.  I know some of you may find this hard to believe but I love a good musical. I grew up on the lyrics of South Pacific, Camelot and Sound of Music. I have seen every remake of West Side Story. I don’t care if it Les Miz, Wicked, or Young Frankenstein, if there are tissues and popcorn I’m probably going to love it.

But this new musical based on living in Los Angeles had me a bit confused. The first dance scene in the midst of a traffic jam left me a little less than impressed. I was looking for Julie Andrews and she was nowhere to be found. Then the music of Thelonious Monk mysteriously filled the air and I was hooked. I don’t want to spoil the story but the underlining theme, a theme I might argue accompanies any great musical, is dreams appear as foolishness to anyone else, but if we don’t follow the dream we will end up being the fools.

Do you worship Jesus because he was logical?  Of course not. You worship Jesus because he was humble, caring, sacrificial, non-judgmental and because most of all he was a dreamer.  I suspect having your shirt tucked in and your socks match really aren’t all that important to Jesus. All he really cares about is how you love and how you dream, and how you go about fulfilling the dream that God has placed in your heart.

Imagine living your life the Jesus way.  Imagine letting go of all those silly things that seem so important.  Imagine if the words of our mouth and the meditations of our heart were not only acceptable, and but also compassionate and humble.  Imagine the folks who would view us as foolish.  Imagine the folks who want us to “change our tune” so we will be accepted.  Imagine the folks who want us to wipe the ashes from off our forehead because it doesn’t match our clothes.

To Paul the most foolish thing in the world was that a symbol of hate, the cross. Yet there it was, right in the midst of the Jesus story.  Paul imagined beyond the reality of death and discovered the reality of God. From the beginning God’s dream has always been life. From the beginning God’s vision always has been love. From the beginning God’s revelation has always been forgiveness. But there is no life, there is no love, there is no forgiveness to found in the cross unless you can dream. And what a foolish dream that must be.

I have to confess the idea of the cross as a vehicle of grace continues to bewilder me. How can suffering ever be redemptive? Did God prearrange the death of Jesus? Can one man die for the sins of the world? If Jesus was God, is God even capable of dying?  Those are good questions. They are questions with which I grapple daily. Those are questions for which I desire clear, concise, and logical answers. But they are also questions which began to fade from my mind in a world where sin in the form of power and fear and hate demand my ultimate attention.

Foolishly, with dirt on my forehead and socks that don’t match, step away from the questions and dare to dream.

Imagine the foolishness of believing in Christ.

Imagine the foolishness of believing Christ crucified

     because he was compassionate and humble.

Imagine the foolishness of believing Christ resurrected

for the salvation of the world.

Imagine the foolishness of believing Christ resurrected

     For the wise and powerful,

                             The poor and the forgotten,

Sinners like you and me.

Now imagine being converted to such foolishness.       

To God be the glory.     Amen. 

Searching for a Messiah

Isaiah 49:1-4; John 1:35-42

 

        We have spent the better part of the last 45 days celebrating Christmas. On the surface, this Christmas was no different than the last ……. except that it was. Christmas is all about searching for a messiah. We search through our songs, our stories and particularly through our life changing moments. For some, this Christmas was celebrated through the anticipation of a reversal of fortune and the promise of capturing a very elusive dream. For others, Christmas hardly mattered because their dream appeared to be lost. Confused?  Well we don’t like to talk about politics in church so sometimes I’m forced to speak metaphorically.  

        Using Biblical language, America has spent the entire 21^st century in exile and we are trying to figure out how to come home. The image of two towers crashing to the ground is burned in our collective memories. We have struggled to find the correct, dare I say “holy” response to a parade of headlines that have left us broken and divided. We each define this brokenness from our differing political perspectives. I preach, standing on the shoulders of one whose birthday we celebrate this day. To quote Dr. King, “An individual has not started living until he can rise above the narrow confines of his individualistic concerns to the broader concerns of all humanity.” But King is not the only voice in the room. Solutions to our nation’s exile cross a wide political spectrum. As we struggle to find answers, we quiver with fear as communities become more and more isolated by voices speaking their own brand of truth.

        How ironic that John the Baptist was identified as a voice in the wilderness. This was not complimentary. John was seen as crazy old loon singing the praises of a man with no legitimate resume. And if the man of whom John spoke stood on anyone’s shoulders, perhaps it was that lonely voice identified by Second Isaiah as The Suffering Servant.

        Listen to these words from Second Isaiah. “Here is my servant whom I have chosen and in whom my soul delights. My servant will be an unextinguished flame burning against the darkness. My servant will not grow weary until justice has been brought to the nations.”

        So begins the journey of Isaiah’s suffering servant. The exiles have returned home from Babylon. These folks have heard the stories of past greatness and long to once again establish the kingship of David. They desire a messiah, but they want a messiah who will conform to their vision. The poet reminded the people of Jerusalem that God is always at work in the unfolding of human history and this unfolding will be enacted by human hands. But the hands chosen to do God’s work might not be celebrated by those whose vision is deplete of the justice and righteousness that must always characterize the actions of a grace-filled God.

        Tomorrow, as a nation, we have set aside a day to celebrate the vision of one such man.   He is quoted so often and honored in so many ways our children have no idea who Martin Luther King Jr. actually was. Like anyone larger than life we are either prone to proclaim him as a Messiah or hold him to an impossible standard. Martin lived a flawed life in a flawed society. Like a moth drawn to a deadly flame he was drawn to women other than Coretta. He distanced himself from the invaluable council of Bayard Rustin because of Bayard’s sexual orientation. He chose not to press forward on the third march across The Pettus Bridge in Selma, losing the support of many young blacks who saw him as a coward. By 1968 he had grown tired of protest and marches. His sermons condemning the Viet Nam War caused many folks to look for different leadership. Perhaps King would not be remembered today if it were not for April 3^rd, 1968.

        Martin Luther King was no Messiah, but he was a suffering servant. Beyond his flaws were moments of bravery, eloquence, self-sacrifice, justice and righteousness that caused even Presidents to tremble. After each sermon there were folks hiding in the darkness waiting for the opportunity to cause him great personal pain. With each dream there was the nightmare of his phone ringing with death threats, the nightmare of the four girls killed at the 16^th Street Baptist Church, the nightmare of time in prison, time in despair and time of self-doubt.  He was no Messiah but his voice, his hands, his compassion were deeply rooted in the voice, hands and compassion of Christ.

        When John the Baptist proclaimed, “Look, the Lamb of God”, a moment in time never before witnessed and never since replicated took place. To use the words of the Gospel John, “The word became flesh and lived among us. Through Jesus we have seen the glory of God.” The sad truth is the world did not know him. Even folks looking for the messiah did not recognize him. It is only in retrospect that we have declared that particular moment in time to be a moment by which all other moments are defined. Yet we continue to yearn for a Messiah. In fact sometimes we fool ourselves into thinking we are the incarnation that holy moment.

        I have a good friend who is a workaholic. He operates at such a hectic speed I would get tired just watching him set an impossible pace.  He not only did his work but was determined to do the work of everyone else. We would work together on Habitat projects and while his energy was heroic, Craig often became a danger to himself and anyone near him.  He refused to take breaks, never drank water and thought lunch was a waste of time. I once went up to him and said, “Craig, I’ve got two pieces of good news. First, the Messiah has come.” He looked at me as if I had lost my mind.  Then I continued, “And you are not him.”

        As much as I admire the sermons and courage of Martin Luther King, he was not the messiah. As excited as many of us became eight years ago, our current President was not the messiah. Neither is our President-elect.  The messiah has already come. What we need are suffering servants, that is, folks who are willing to emulate the Lamb of God.

        Teresa of Avila was a 16^th century mystic/poet who lived in Spain. She had a powerful personality that often got in the way of her potential. Then Teresa learned to pray. First she prayed primarily for herself but she eventually learned to pray for others. She spoke of prayer going beyond words. She claimed true prayer is what we do rather than what we say. Many of you are familiar with the prayer I eluded to a few minutes ago. Near the end of her life she gathered her friends around her and said,

        Christ has no body now on earth but yours,

                No hands but yours,

                No feet but yours.

        Yours are the eyes through which to look out on Christ’s compassion to the world.

        Yours are the feet

with which he is to go about doing good.

        Yours are the hands

with which he is to bless folks now.

 

        Those words were spoken centuries ago but they are just as powerful today. How are you willing to touch another in a way that gives them hope? How are you willing to listen to another who is seldom recognized or heard? Can you really shut your eyes to the misfortune of another? How will you embrace the compassion of Christ through acts of mercy and grace? It might be a hardship. Carrying wood to the back porch of a stranger or getting down on the floor to help a child reads makes us reach for the Advil when we get home. Listening to stories which are not our own to only takes patience, it is downright inconvenient. Worse yet, it can break our heart.  When the sun is shining there are a lot of other things we might like to do rather than listening to people, healing people, forgiving people or even sitting quietly with people who are ready to die. We are not the Messiah! But we can become a suffering servant. We can be the one who proclaims, “Behold the Lamb of God, I want be like him.”

        In all that you do, be the hands of Christ.

        In all that you do, be the feet of Christ.

        In all that you do, be the compassion of Christ.

        By doing so you will dream beyond yesterday and even today. By doing so you will dream into God’s tomorrow.

        Amen.

Violating Convention

Matthew 1:18-25

 

        We all love a good Christmas story and I suspect many of you have a personal Christmas experience you will never forget. My first paying gig in a church was not as a preacher but rather as a Director of Christian Educator. The church was Second Presbyterian in Charleston, South Carolina. The members took being Charlestonians very seriously. For more years than anyone could remember each Christmas Eve the Christmas story was depicted in a unique pageant. The distinctiveness was not in the story, for the script was the usual homogenization of Luke and Matthew where kings and shepherds mingle together with the livestock. What made the event unique was every part, from sheep to king, was played by an adult.  The costumes worn were far more expensive than any suit I had ever owned. Most of the cast had been playing their role for at least twenty years. It seemed the only way to retire from the play was to die. Unfortunately, the person playing the Innkeeper had passed away that summer. My job as Director of Christian Education was to recruit the new Innkeeper.  Acting ability hardly mattered but it was imperative that the new thespian could either fit into the costume or knew a good tailor.  After much searching I finally found my Innkeeper. Before signing up for this lifelong commitment   he asked if there was a script.

        “Well of course there is a script.”

        “Are you sure?”

        Well to tell the truth I wasn’t sure. I assumed any play had to have a script. On the other hand, since the same folks had played the same role for so many years the official script had probably found its way to the bottom of some discarded filing cabinet. So I turned to my new recruit and said, “Wing it.”

        He looked down his long but properly proportioned South of Broad nose and replied, “Sir, we don’t wing it in Charleston.”

        “You know what I mean. Ad-lib. Joseph will ask for a room and you say, ‘The Inn is full.’ He will say, ‘My wife is pregnant. Do you have anyplace we can I go’. You will reply, ‘I have a stable behind the Inn’.”

        He nodded, the contract was signed, in triplicate, and I told him rehearsal would be Christmas Eve morning at 11:00.

        Christmas Eve morning was a glorious day, in fact too glorious. At 7:30 I received a phone call from a cast member. The entire cast was headed to the golf course.

“Even Mary,” was all I could think to ask.  

“Are you kidding? Especially Mary. It was her idea. She has a 6 handicap and gets to play from the reds. She takes our money every year.”

“But what about the play?”

“Don’t worry. We haven’t rehearsed in years.”

Christmas Eve morning I went to the church to make sure all the prompts were in place for the production. At 11:00 I turned and spotted my newly recruited Innkeeper coming through the door. He sheepishly looked around and asked, “Am I early?”

I explained how I was not aware that rehearsal was solely dependent on the weather. He seemed to understand. I told him I was sorry no one contacted him but he reminded me in Charleston you have to be part of something for at least ten years before you are considered a member. I thought he was kidding. He wasn’t.

Switching the subject I asked, “You want to run through your lines.”

“Nah, I’m good. The wife and I have been working on them.” I found that pretty remarkable since I still had not discovered a script. But if he was OK, so was I.

“Great, I’ll see you this evening.”

The place was packed. Folks I had never seen occupied seats in pews that had been bought by family members at least a century ago. There were even folks in the balcony. We began with the children’s choir. Forty kids, all dressed in perfectly pressed robes, thrilled us with their versions of Christmas classics. After Dr. Randle delivered the Christmas Eve Prayer, the adult choir performed selections from Handle’s Messiah. Then it was time for The Play. It was pretty obvious everyone watching knew each line by heart. I could have asked anyone to have played the Innkeeper.

In the third scene Mary and Joseph made their way down the center aisle toward the makeshift city of Bethlehem. As they approached the Inn, my star pupil made his appearance. There was an anxious rustle through the sanctuary as folks realized who had been given the honor of replacing their dearly departed friend. Joseph was the first to speak. “Friend, we are looking for a room.”

On cue, the Innkeeper replied. “We have no room. The entire town is filled with folks here to pay their taxes.”

Joseph responded, “You must find me a room. My wife Mary is with child.”

Somewhat baffled the Innkeeper asked, “Excuse me, she’s what?”

A buzz ran through the congregation.  Everyone in the city of Charleston not only knew the proper line but also realized knew for the first time in their lifetime the sacred words were about to be altered. I scrunched down in my pew fearful of what might happen next.

Joseph, realizing they were off script tried to recover with a most logical response, “She’s pregnant.”

The Innkeeper replied, “Well it’s not my fault.”

The revered play ended its miraculous run when Joseph, unable to contain himself, spoke these extraordinary words, “Well, it’s not my fault either.”

(stop)

        As Christmas has been transformed from mystery into doctrine Joseph has become a forgotten character. Mary gets all the accolades. Is any saint more revered than the mother of Jesus? Mary has become so famous even the Beetles sang about her. But Joseph has no song. Joseph barely has a spot in the story. Perhaps we should occasionally  skip beyond the romanticism of Luke and read the account recorded by Matthew.

        Matthew is seldom anyone’s favorite gospel. Luke has the best parables. John is the most polished. Mark is short and to the point. Matthew reads like a blueprint on how to build the kingdom of God here on earth, which is exactly what Matthew had in mind. Time after time in the book of Matthew Jesus says, “Put conventional wisdom aside, forget what you were taught as a child, and imagine something your parents could never quite visualize.”

        It began with Joseph. Imagine becoming engaged to the girl of your dreams and discovering she is pregnant. You know you are not the father. You know you should walk away. You know keeping her will destroy your reputation yet you cannot leave because you know the child is more important than anything in the whole world. Joseph should have left. Mary’s mess was not his fault. And yet he stayed. That’s what people building the kingdom of God do.

        This year Kemp, Barbara, Anne, Ralph, Sarah, Frankie and Iantha died. Each of these folks was serving or had served as an elder. Each played a huge role in the life of our congregation. It wasn’t our fault they died. Yet I have quietly watched as many of you have taken on the critical roles that our dearly beloved use to perform.   

        This year we discovered our old gray mare just ain’t what she used to be. Our Fellowship Hall and many of the rooms downstairs were beginning to show wear. The floor needed repaired, the heating/air system was nearly crippled, the roof was beginning to leak and that was just the beginning of the list. It wasn’t our fault. Jim Wright and his crew were constantly performing miracles with duct tape, bailing wire, and a whole lot of prayer. Then you, playing Joseph, stepped up in order that we might find new ways to be the light in our valley.

        That’s what the people of God do. We don’t offer excuses. We don’t worry with blame. We just step forward and do what is necessary to continue our holy covenant with each other and with God. We play Joseph, that solitary figure so often regulated to the back of the stable. We play Joseph, watching over the child, watching over the church. We play Joseph, always stepping forward at the most unusual moment to declare, “He shall be called Emmanuel.”

        While Mary will always be seen as the godliest character in the Christmas pageant, perhaps Joseph is the most God-like. From the back of the stable, God observes the tragedy and mayhem that is always part of the human adventure and must think, “It’s not my fault.” Thankfully what God thinks has never postponed what God does.

That is why the most important part of any Christmas celebration is declaring, “Emmanuel, God with us.”    Amen.

Hallelujah

Psalm 146:5-10; Isaiah 35:1-10

 

George Frederic Handel, born German but an English citizen was primarily known as a composer of Italian influenced operas. By the late 1730’s, with his star waning,   Handel took residence in Ireland where he was encouraged by Charles Jennens to consider Jesus as the inspiration for a new piece of music. Armed with a text written by Jennens, Handel composed his most famous work. Ironically Jennens was not pleased with Handel’s music, feeling it did not completely capture the magnificence of God’s most holy son.  Nonetheless, I suspect sometime during this Christmas holiday you will encounter part of Handel’s masterwork. For what is Christmas without at least one rendition of the Hallelujah Chorus?

Nearly 50 years later, an obscure Canadian poet sat down to grapple with the concept of Messiah in a way which would have been most unbecoming for Mr. Jennens. While the brilliant chorus by Handel reaches glorious heights, Leonard Cohen grasps the brokenness that must necessitate both the arrival and agony of any savior.  I fear in little more than a generation the name Leonard Cohen will be forgotten. Our grandchildren will once again join make-shift choirs on Christmas Eve trying to replicate Handel’s vision. So before Cohen is forgotten, let’s honor him for an amazing exegete of the concept of Messiah.

For those unfamiliar with Cohen’s song it begins,

I’ve heard there was a secret chord

That David played, it pleased the Lord,

But you don’t really care for music do you?

It goes like this, the fourth, the fifth,

The minor fall the major lift,

The baffled king composing hallelujah.

Listen as Marianne sings the first verse and the chorus.

While Handel celebrates the omnipotence of Jesus the Messiah, Cohen is quick to expose the frailty of those who would claim the messianic cape. Certainly the first super hero of the Old Testament would be Sampson. This man-child was a one man wrecking crew against his tribe’s nemesis the Philistines, until he met Delilah. Cohen writes, She cut your hair and from your lips she drew the Hallelujah.

Even the poet/king David could not escape the temptation that comes from absolute power. Cohen recreates the scene with Bathsheba,

Your faith was strong but you needed proof,

You saw her bathing on the roof,

Her beauty and the moonlight overthrew you.

 

David was the image of any messiah to be and yet he failed to survive the twist and turns that the world places before us. The frailty of David and Sampson is critical to their messianic configuration. We are all flawed people. If our messiahs are beyond temptation and sin then perhaps they are only gods posing as humans. Cohen sings,

It doesn’t matter which you heard,

The holy or the broken Hallelujah,

I did my best, I told the truth, I didn’t come to fool you.

And even though it all went wrong,

I stand before the Lord of song,

With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah.

Sometimes, no let me change that, most times when I want to understand the Christmas Story I need to submerge myself in the Psalms and Isaiah and poets like Leonard Cohen. David writes, Come Messiah. Set the prisoner free. Open the eyes of the blind. Lift up oppressed. Watch over the stranger, the widow and the orphan. Bring us joy.

Notice that Isaiah speaks the some language, Come Messiah. Strengthen the weak. Make our feeble knees firm.   Make our fearful hearts strong. Open the eyes of the blind. Unstop the ears of the deaf. Allow the lame to leap like a deer. Come Messiah. Teach us a song of joy.

David, Isaiah, and Leonard Cohen candidly speak to the brokenness of this world. We would like to think no one lives in poverty. We would like to believe are no homeless, no tyrants, no children without hope. But we know better. To believe this is to deny the sights and sounds that constantly bombard or eyes, our ears and our hearts. And so we sing, “Come Messiah”, ignorantly believing that the coming of the Lord will alleviate all pain and suffering. The messiah has come yet the children of Yemen still have nothing to eat.

When Jesus was born, the world was a dark place. When Jesus was a child he witnessed the hunger of an enslaved people. When Jesus was in his formative years he read the poems of David and Isaiah. When Jesus became a man he was determined not to fall prey to the entrapments of the messiahs before him. Surely God had designs on what Jesus could become. But the temptation to be less than human was very real. It was a man, not a God that walked in our midst. Only at the end could Jesus utter his broken, yet holy Hallelujah.

When I sing Handel’s Messiah, I sing of a glorious promise of the reign of God. But when I listen to Leonard Cohen, I am drawn to that lonely Galilean who dared to believe the only way to begin to change the world was through the hearts of twelve very ordinary people. He offered some very simple words. “If someone is without a coat, give them one of yours.” “Unless you are without sin, be careful when you condemn the rest of the world.” “Visit folks in jail, feed folks who are hungry, love one another, at least as much as you love yourself.” Then Jesus went about living the words he preached.   Hallelujah!

I think Jesus the man was telling anyone with ears to hear to stop looking for the messiah and become a messiah-like. Jesus was not suggesting we become a god, but he was confirming even as flawed as we may be, we have been blessed with the ability and the gifts to reach out to others. Perhaps it begins with helping a family down the road. Perhaps you might find that one hour a week to read to a child. Perhaps you might write to someone in prison or visit someone in a nursing home. Maybe you could become even more messianic by finding out how to keep our water and air clean. Maybe you might try discovering why you should even care about the people of Yemen. There are so many potholes in this world that need to be filled. Jesus gave us a pep talk and a shovel, but it is up to us to do the work.

Here is a news flash. Christmas is not about salvation. We have another holiday in April to celebrate God’s grace. Christmas is about God seeing the brokenness of this world and sending one of us to make a difference. In our attempts to follow that perfect example, we sometimes get in our own way. But if imperfection didn’t stop David or Sampson from getting up and trying again, it shouldn’t stop us. Remember,

For even though it all went wrong,

They stood before the Lord of song,

With nothing on their tongue,

But Hallelujah.

(Let’s listen as Marianne sings the whole song)

Amen