Everyone Has One Sermon

Luke 4:14-21; Psalm 19:14

 

        I believe everyone has one sermon in them. Most will never be preached in a pulpit because few will ever be spoken publicly. But when alone in the shower, or day dreaming during worship, I bet each one of you has some profound thought you would love to share with the world.

        A onetime sermon is a wonderful thing.  No one expects a first timer to be any good at preaching.  So we are all surprised with the energy, the honesty, the sheer raw emotion that comes from a neophyte brave enough to bear her soul.  I imagine we have all experienced Youth Sunday. Depending on the leadership, much of what is read has been carefully crafted by a professional hand. But some ministers and particularly educators are wise enough to trust the Holy Spirit. For a brief moment a child speaks her version of the truth and we are amazed.

        In the gospel of Luke, after Jesus left a supernatural encounter in the wilderness, his first official stop was to worship back home. The local Rabbi asked if Jesus could assist in the service. This happens quite often to seminary students before they receive their first call. After three years of lectures and examinations they come home to the folks who first believed in the young preacher. The congregation wants to celebrate the product of their own loins. The graduate speaks but seldom is any word heard. Each member of the congregation is lost in memories of their first encounter with the young soul. When the service ends, members stand in line to offer words of wisdom and encouragement. They are so proud. Yet the graduate is left wondering if anyone actually heard what was said.   Jesus did not encounter this breach of first-timer protocol. His audience was more than amazed. They were outraged.

        For thirty years Jesus must have thought about what he wanted to say to his first congregation. When that opportunity arrived, unlike Amos, who offered his first time sermon to strangers, Jesus spoke to friends and neighbors. But the results were similar. Amos went to the city of Bethel and told the king, the priest, and anyone else who was listening that they were all headed to hell in a hand basket. After the sermon the congregation took Amos out behind the Temple and killed him. When Jesus finished his first sermon, his friends and neighbors tried to throw him off a cliff proving sometimes the congregation is listening, much to the chagrin of the one who dares to speak the holy words.

        Ironically Jesus did not write his first sermon. He lifted it from the 61^st chapter of Isaiah. It was not some vague passage members of the synagogue had never encountered. Everyone sitting before Jesus knew the story.  After two generations of captivity, the surviving Hebrews were released from Babylon to return to Jerusalem. Through the inspiration of Ezra and Nehemiah they rebuilt both the city and the Temple. Each Sabbath they entered the Holy Place and offered prayers asking for a return to the glory days of King David. But Jerusalem remained in the shadow of Persia, and Egypt, and Greece and eventually Rome. Jerusalem forgot the ways of the Lord and once again became a divided people, enslaving and impoverishing others with acts of greed. Then the poet proclaimed, “The spirit of the Lord is upon me to bring good news to the poor, bind up the broken hearted, to offer liberty to the captives, sight to the blind, and let the oppressed go free.” Rather than being uplifted by these words of joy, the poet was suppressed with silence. How can emancipation be announced when powerful hegemonies still ruled the land?

        Jesus read the words and boldly proclaimed, “Today, in me, this scripture will be fulfilled.” Suddenly visions of the little boy they watched grow up were swept from their collective memories. Whispers filled the congregation:

 “So, the son of a carpenter thinks he can mend our broken world?”

“Who inspired him to such nonsense?”

“He must have spent too much time in the wilderness?”

“What will happen to us if word gets out there is a dreamer living in Nazareth?”

“When did Jesus become so political?”

“Will Rome hold us responsible?”

Jesus responded with exactly the wrong words. “I tell you, no prophet is accepted in his home town.”  The congregation turned into a mob intent on killing him. But Jesus passed through the midst of them and disappeared.

First time sermons, what do we do with them? We all have one but few are preached. Usually that spirit of the emancipating God is pressed deep into the depths of our soul. We discover clever words which entertain but seldom inspire. Eventually we are converted to the ways of the world. It keeps us safe. It shackles our feet to solid ground. After all, who wants to be thrown over a cliff?

I once was privileged to hear Desmond TuTu speak. He was asked how he found the courage to stand against a government that practiced apartheid. He told an ancient story. He said we the people of South Africa were riding in a truck when it lost its breaks. The truck was hurtling down the mountain and so we jumped, tumbled across the road and over the cliff only to be saved by clutching a single vine that kept us from death.   Not able to climb back up the cliff we hollered out, “Is anybody up there?” That is when we heard the voice of God say,

“Let go of the vine.”

We responded, “Is anybody else up there?”

Again God spoke, “LET GO OF THE VINE.”

And we did.                                       (Stop)

 

What are we to do with naïve folks preaching poetic sermons? What good is hope in the face of reality? It seems to me there are two types of preachers. The realist who preaches what the congregation wants to hear. And the poet, who silently prays before each sermon, May the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable to you O Lord, my rock and my redeemer.

To God be the glory.   Amen.

                                                                        Amen.

Moving Toward the Light

Isaiah 60:1-3; Matthew 2:1-12

 

        On Christmas Eve many of you were here for the 6:00 service. Needless to say our Christmas Eve services are a little different from the experiences you might find at a “normal” church. Certainly nothing wrong with Lessons and Carols but over the past few years we have ventured into different waters. Using the creativity of this congregation and the brilliance of our choir, we have dared to look at Christmas Eve through a different lens.

        For the rest of my life when I think of Joseph I will imagine he is Roger Elliott. Many of us remember the Christmas Eve when we heard five different women give voice to Mary. Sarah Armstrong not only took one of the parts but helped craft each role. With her gone, I am not sure I will ever be able to repeat that experience.

        This year, because of my love of the Book of Isaiah, we explored those beautiful poems that conclude the prophet’s message: 

I will create a new heaven and a new earth.

The Spirit of the Lord will bring good news to the oppressed and the brokenhearted.

You shall give birth without pain. 

Each poem is wonderfully reflected in the Christmas Story found in the Gospel of Luke. A new creation emerges as refugees from the north travel to Bethlehem and experience the most miraculous birth of all time. But Luke wasn’t the only gospel writer familiar with the poems of Isaiah. Matthew’s gospel centers on the joyous promise:

Arise! Your light has come.        

What other response is possible than, “O my!”

 

Out of darkness comes hope, not as a sunburst, but as a single flicker. We dream of winning the lottery but Isaiah offers only a glimmer of tomorrow. Yet that light becomes the foundation for rediscovering life.

In Mathew’s story we are introduced to astrologers rather than shepherds. Folk protecting livestock have reason to fear the night. In contrast astrologers spend a lifetime looking into the darkness with the hopes of finding something new. These visionaries were not found in Jerusalem because Herod feared any light which might expose his madness. These Magi’s come from afar. They had seen a new light and they had no choice but to follow. Imagine Herod’s surprise when they brought their good news to the unsuspecting king.

There is no Herod in Luke’s version. This might be why we prefer his account. In Luke’s version we encounter mangers, angels, shepherds, and an old man in the Temple. Luke has no fear of Jerusalem. But the gospel of Matthew warns of the dangers lurking in the not so Holy City. Matthew’s gospel calls for a new kingdom which extends far beyond the darkness of any earthly tyrant. Matthew finds its genesis with a single light in the heavens. That light became a revelation to those in darkness, informing the past while opening hearts to new possibilities.

We don’t know who those astrologers were. But we do believe, driven by a solitary light, they dared to travel to an unknown land in order to witness what most could not see and only a few dared to imagine. And while we might still cling to the babe swaddling in Luke’s gospel, Christians all around the world prefer Matthew’s dangerous story of a light that dares to expose Herod.

Last night children throughout Central and South America filled their best shoe with grass and hid it under their bed. Feeding imaginary camels in Nicaragua is no more ludicrous than leaving snacks for reindeer in Nellysford. Before the children lay down to sleep they peaked into the darkness of the vast sky looking for a new star. Then they prayed that wise men would bring both gifts and a flicker of hope to their village.

In contrast most of us have already put away our Christmas decorations. We have grown weary of the holiday tunes we so longed for just a month ago. We even moved our Fourth Friday Film Festival up a week because it just didn’t seem right to show It’s a Wonderful Life after December 25^th.

But epiphany is Christmas without Madison Avenue. Epiphany is Christmas without Santa and Rudolph. Epiphany is Christmas without all the bells and whistles, all the parties and lights, even all the joys and disappointments. Epiphany is about The Grinch. You remember the Grinch. He is the ugly Green Guy that unsuccessfully tries to steal Christmas. In the gospel of Matthew the Grinch is better known as Herod.  The light of the world is born eight miles from his palace and the Grinch didn’t have a clue. Then the astrologers come looking for direction and the Grinch became determined to put out the light before others became aware of it. In an act of desperation the Grinch ordered every child under the age of two to be slaughtered.  But the light survived because hope is more than wishful thinking. It is God appearing where only darkness exists.

I am told there are 353 shopping days left till Christmas. I understand you can still get outrageous bargains on wrapping paper and Christmas cards. You still have time to exchange those ugly sweaters and get what you really wanted. And it is never too early to pass along a hint or two so your loved one can get it right next year. But if Christmas only happens once a year what good is it tomorrow?

Herod works 365 days a year!

But so does the Light.

 

So let me suggest,

 

                When our bodies betray us,

                When the possible seems impossible,

                When Herod has seemingly blocked our way home,

Epiphany comes.

And miraculously we discover,

Light in our darkness,

Joy in our silence,

                        Even hope among the disheartened.

For when it seems all is lost,

When another war arises,

When another child is shot,

When another Herod rises from the ashes,

Someone will see a star,

        Someone will arise,

Someone will rush to Bethlehem,

        Someone will exclaim, “O my!”

                And there is nothing Herod can do about it.

                                               

To God be the Glory. Amen.

 

Lost and Found in God's Grace

Luke 2:41-51; Col 3.12-17

 

            In all the gospels, we have only one story concerning the childhood of Jesus.  That is why the Sunday after Christmas we are reading about Jesus when he was twelve.  Of all the stories Luke could have shared this one is incredibly irritating.  Just the idea of a child being lost sends tremors up our spines.  A week or so ago I was finishing my Christmas shopping at Target.  As I turned down an aisle I saw a young boy with a commode brush in one hand and its container in the other.  He was desperately trying to return the brush to its proper place but was having little success.  I started to help him, but then I stopped.  Surely his mother was just around the corner.  She wouldn’t dare let him out of her sight.  If I approached the boy she might call 911 and have the security guard arrest me.  On the other hand, what if the boy was lost?  His mother must be out of her mind with worry.  Maybe I should see if he was OK. As I was playing out all the possible scenarios in my mind, another young boy, obviously the older brother, came running around the corner screaming, “You better come quick or mom is going to light up your butt.”   I looked around the corner and spotted a rather perturbed woman headed our way.  The commode brush was the last of this young man’s problems.  He dropped the brush at my feet and scampered away.  As I picked it up a Target Associate looked at me with that, “You break it you pay for it look.”  And folks wonder why I hate shopping.

        Sometimes the mother is not just around the corner.  Sometimes she is not even in the same town.  Mary and Joseph took Jesus to the Temple in Jerusalem to celebrate the Passover on his twelfth birthday.  This was a huge event. Boys would go to the Temple to recite various scriptures to the priest.  At the end of the ceremony, anyone passing the examination would be declared a man.  There is no doubt that Jesus had been reading his Torah for the past year in preparation for this ritual.  Obviously the event had gone well. Mary and Joseph joined the rest of their friends from Nazareth for the trip back home.  It was assumed Jesus was playing with friends so his disappearance was not discovered until they stopped to rest.  Imagine the fear of the parents when they discovered Jesus was missing.  There was no way they could travel the dangerous roads at night so they were forced to sit and worry until daybreak.  Then they retraced ever step, disappointed with every turn.  Finally they went to the Temple, and there he was, unharmed and unfazed by the events of the last three days.  Mary probably didn’t know whether to hug or strangle him.  As her love overcome her anger she embraced the child and asked why he had scared them half of their minds.  Jesus’ choice of words left a little to be desired.  “Didn’t you know I would be in my Father’s house?” 

        For three days Jesus had sat among the wisest men of his religion.  At first he had recited the words he had learned.  Then he took the second step in biblical interpretation.  He began to ask questions about the scriptures he had memorized.  Finally he began to interpret those scriptures with such a depth of understanding that even the wisest priests were impressed.  Jesus embraced God’s word in such a way that it became impossible for him to continue to be just the son of a carpenter.  Jesus discovered the word, the vision, the hope, the grace, the imagination, the possibility of becoming a child of God.  As a child, in the house of his Father, the Word embraced the word and the child of God became the Son of God.  

        This story is about more than Jesus.  I like to think of this church as our home.  I like to imagine this is a place where we feel safe, secure, challenged, embraced and loved.  I like to believe this community is where we come to discover a new way, a different way, a transforming way of living.  But is our church a place we would risk being lost in order that we might be found?  That takes more than viewing the church as a haven for good fellowship with friends.  It calls on us to embrace God’s word to the extent that we discover what an irritating effect it can have on our minds and our souls.

        I was in seminary when I first met Al Winn. He was the minister at Second Presbyterian Church in Richmond Virginia.  He had done a lot of other things including being President of Louisville Seminary and moderator of our General Assembly. The year before Dr. Winn Second Presbyterian had been served by some very polished preachers.  Then Dr. Winn arrived.  It was to be his last church before retirement.  He was a bit smallish, almost frail.  His voice always needed to be aided by a P.A. system.  The first Sunday he arrived the church was filled with anticipation but to be honest, his sermon was a bit disappointing.    A month later, the church was not quite as crowded. By the end of the year some folks had found their way to one of the other Presbyterian churches.  But those who stayed discovered something fascinating about this man.  In his hands, the Bible became a living, breathing document, touching us in ways we had never been touched before.  It was obvious that at some point in his life Dr. Winn consciously declared the church to be his home and God to be his Holy parent.  Along the way Dr. Winn had quietly but firmly committed himself to the strange decision that God’s word was to be valued over conventional or worldly wisdom.  Dr. Winn could read Colossians 3:12, “clothe yourself with compassion, kindness, humility, meekness and patience”, with an absolute straight face.  How many people do you know who can say, “I am going to be unconditionally kind, humble, meek, and patient” and then turn around and act that way? 

Dr. Winn kept insisting this was possible and yet I would always think, “Who in their right mind can live up to the gospel?  That is not the way the world works.”  Yet, with a straight face, that kind and gentleman  would continue to read, “Bear with each other, forgive each other, clothe yourself in harmony and let the peace of God rule in your hearts.”  Those are crazy words, impractical words, words which might lead us to ruin, or defeat, or something even scarier; a deep and irrational trust in the one a 12 year old dared to call Father.

Imagine the consequences of devoting your life to being more compassionate, kind, lowly, meek, patient, forgiving and loving.  Imagine if this could become our top priority.  Imagine joining with Jesus in following the ways of his Father. Imagine being lost and found in God’s grace.  We are all looking for a New Year’s Resolution.  Imagine adding this one to our list.

          

 

Who Was Mary?

Luke 1:26-38

 

        Have you ever heard a song and dismissed it to only later discover it was not the music but rather your lack of rhythm that caused the original rejection. Sometimes we think we hear the music but we fail to feel the poetry.

        Back in the mid 70’s a friend suggested I take Deb to see a young singer who was on her maiden tour. “You’ll love her. She used to sing for Graham Parsons.” So Deb and I spent big bucks to hear a couple of songs.  That’s all it took. With Deb in tow we headed for the exits.

        Thirteen years later Deb and I headed for San Angelo, Texas. Now for those of you who have never visited West Texas it swings to its own rhythm. While the temperature was a bit too hot, my family and I loved spending better than a decade embracing an enchanting culture quite different than my beloved South.

        A couple of years into our stay I was riding through the desert with a friend listening to the radio when a song called, “Waltzing Cross Texas” oozed through the dashboard. With a couple of years of Texas culture under my belt I found myself swaying to the hypnotic voice. “Do you know who is singing that song?”

My friend looked over in disbelief and said “You’re kidding? That’s Emmylou Harris.” 

        In disbelief I blurted out, “Emmylou Harris! I walked out of a concert of hers a few years ago.” 

In the great state of Texas, claiming dislike for Emmylou is akin to saying you don’t remember the Alamo. My friend just shook his head and turned up the volume.

        Sometimes we think we know everything when we really know nothing at all. In our infantile state we hear a song but never fully appreciate the blessing we received.

        During the Christmas Season, with the possible exception of Santa, no one gets more air time than Mary. The interesting thing is we all view her differently. Some see an obedient woman embracing her rightful place in God’s family. Others argue she was a strong woman who didn’t need a man in her life. Many of our Catholic friends exalt Mary as the Queen of Heaven. Our Orthodox friends adore her as the God-bearer. Hallmark Cards romanticizes her and the U.S. Postal Services puts her on Christmas Stamps. We intellectual Presbyterians argue over the significance of her virginity. Each, in our own way,adore Mary. But do we actually know who she was?

        Mark, our earliest gospel has no birth narrative and only mentions Mary once. The gospel of Matthew is more interested in Joseph. John only mentions Mary when Jesus turns the water into wine. Even in the gospel of Luke, Mary is only mentioned by name in the birth narratives. It is from this gospel that most of our stories and mythologies are born. So who might Luke have imagined Mary to have been?

        Luke begins by describing Mary as a virgin, betrothed to a man. In the Hebrews culture, girls celebrated their marriage at the age of 16. But the girl was betrothed, promised to a man, when she was 12 or 13. She lived with her parents until the wedding. So we know Luke’s Mary was a young girl between 12 to 15.

        Mary is greeted by the angel with the words, “Greetings, Favored One. The Lord is with you.” A more literal translation would be “Rejoice! You are full of God’s grace. The Lord is with you.” This is a standard greeting shared each Sabbath as people entered the synagogue.

        What is not ordinary was what Mary was told next.

        The Spirit will come upon you.

        The power of the most high will overshadow you.

        The child born will be called holy, the Son of God.

        Mary responded, “How can that be? I am not married.”

        For 2,ooo years our primary understanding of Mary begins and ends with the word VIRGIN.  In our minds this makes her extraordinarily different from the rest of us.

        But what if we view Mary as an ordinary child, with nondescript parents, in a little known village, of an obsolete country? Who would we see? In other words, before the 2,000 year old discussion declaring Mary to practically be God, what made her different from us?

        In a word, “Nothing.”

        One thing that we miss when casually reading the Bible is the authors believed God had remarkable sense of humor.

        Abraham and Sarah, the mother and father of the Hebrew Nation were in their 90’s when Isaac was born.

        Esau, the strong trustworthy hunter gets rejected in favor of his scheming little brother Jacob.

        Joseph, the mama’s favorite, gets thrown into a pit and sold into slavery by his own brothers.

        God located Moses in the middle of the desert where he was wasting his life herding sheep.

        Need I continue? I challenge you to name one hero in the Old Testament who was born with a silver spoon in his or her mouth. Every one, in some way or the other was flawed or ordinary. And so was Mary. Oh yes, Mary was full of grace. But so was Sarah and Abraham; so was Isaac and Rebekah; so was Jacob and Rachel………. and so are you.

        The wonder of Christmas is not that Mary was a virgin. The wonder of Christmas is that God wants each of us to become pregnant and give birth to something divine.

Like Mary, we cry out, “How is that possible? I am so ordinary?” But the angel of the Lord continues to sing, “You are a child of God. You have always been blessed.”

I think the real miracle of Christmas begins when we not only hear the music but we sway to the rhythms. For so many years Christmas has been about Mary, Joseph, and the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes. It is a miraculous story centering on our preconceived notion of the magnificence of Mary.  But what good is Christmas if only Mary is full of grace? It is sort of like hearing Emmylou with a tin ear rather than a longing heart.

You are filled with the ordinary and the holy. Each day the grace of God within you longs to expose new horizons and possibilities. So this Christmas, Waltz Across Bethlehem and be introduced to the rhythms of God’s melody.   Waltz Across Bethlehem and be reminded you too are full of grace.

Tender Mercies

Luke 1:68-79

 

        The last story in the Old Testament is found in the book of Luke. I know what you are thinking. Luke is not in the Old Testament. Yet the narrative leading to the birth of John the Baptist reads like something we would find in Genesis or First Samuel. It begins like this. Once there was an old woman who was barren.

        A lot of folks assume Luke’s gospel begins, In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be taxed. But as you astute Biblical scholars know, that verse comes from Luke 2. Before Mary meets Joseph, we are introduced to Zechariah and Elizabeth. We are told this couple lived blamelessly according to all the regulations and commandments of the Lord, and yet Elizabeth was barren. How can this be? Regardless of their righteousness, the couple was cursed to live in disgrace.

        According to Hebrew beliefs, the righteous are rewarded as God’s elect, but the unrighteous are marked by divine judgment.  Zechariah believed he was destined to live with this curse. Even though Zechariah was a priest, he was treated with disdain. After all, if he was truly righteous, Elizabeth would have given him a son.

        One morning Zechariah entered the temple to light the candles. He encountered Gabriel, an angel of the Lord and Zechariah was terrified. But Gabriel spoke the mantra that appears throughout the Gospels, Do not be afraid.

        How could Zechariah not be afraid? It is not every day the angel of the Lord stands before you. Zechariah must have thought, finally I am going to discover what Elizabeth and I have done wrong. We lived our lives the best we could and yet we have been cursed. People have looked upon us with contempt. Many have openly wondered why I am a priest.  I am old, I am tired, and some days I just want to lie down and die. And now here comes Gabriel to pronounce my final verdict. I want some evidence of God’s accusations. I demand at least 27 8x10 color photos with circles and arrows and a paragraph on the back of each picture.

        But Gabriel had not come to condemn. Instead the angel said, Your wife Elizabeth will have a son and you will name him John. He will be the new Elijah. He will prepare Judah for the coming of the Lord.

        Zechariah looked at the angel and said, You have got to be kidding. Do you know how old I am?  Let me remind you that Elizabeth is not much younger. Is the child going to be born in the geriatric ward and will Medicare pick up the bill?

        The angel of the Lord lost all patience with Zechariah. Because of your lack of faith you will remain speechless until the child is born. And Gabriel disappeared.

        So Zechariah went home. He walked into the kitchen and Elizabeth asked how his day had gone. Zechariah was speechless. Come on old man, what have you been up to today? Zechariah just shook his head, grabbed a pencil and wrote, Today I had a visit from the angel of the Lord. Guess what he suggested we are supposed to do?

(STOP)

        Nine months later John was born. Each of those days Zechariah was imprisoned by silence. Imagine how maddening that must have been. How can a priest bless folks if he cannot speak? How can a vengeful man brag of his wife’s pregnancy if his lips are sealed? For months Zechariah must have stewed, caught between his inability to fulfill his calling and the powerlessness to tell the neighbors what he thought. But at some point Zechariah allowed the silence to inspire rather than torment. Like any expectant father, Zechariah pondered what his initial words might be to his son, this gift from God. He thought long and hard about the words he received from Gabriel. Finally he realized, My son will announce the coming of the salvation.

        Initially he might have been jealous that his son would not be the Messiah. It is sort of like being Robin to Batman. No matter how great you are, your destiny is to always be second best. In a way, once again Zechariah and Elizabeth had been slighted. For years they were barren and when vindicated, it is only to be the opening act.

        But nine months is a long time. The closer it came for the boy to be born, the more Zechariah understood. For his entire life he and Elizabeth had lived broken lives. Who they were and certainly who the community imagined them to be was predetermined by their inability to have a child. They lived holy lives only to be judged by the hole in the middle of their existence. Now Zechariah began to think outwardly. He was not the only person prejudged by communal standards. He seldom thought about the folks who lived on the edge of town. Last year Jacob lost his wife and Zechariah had yet to drop by to offer his condolences. As he expanded his vision Zechariah realized he was not alone in his misery and his self doubts. One way or the other, I suspect we are all broken……waiting……..hoping for God’s tender mercies.

(STOP)

        The Hebrew word for salvation is a bit different than the word folk use today when they talk about their free pass to heaven. In the Old Testament salvation is understood as deliverance from an oppressive place or state of mind into the broad safety net of freedom and right relationships. Zechariah and Elizabeth longed for salvation. They desired to be seen within the context of a healthy community. Somehow they considered the condemnation of their neighbors as a sign that God had forgotten them. During nine months of silence Zechariah remembered that God heals rather than destroys. In his epiphany, Zechariah discovered that God also calls each of us to become vessels of healing, reconciliation, or you might say……. salvation.

(STOP)

 Finally the child was born. A father, once broken, was now made whole, not by a birth, but by the realization that we all walk this earth with the opportunity to offer salvation to others. When he could finally speak, Zechariah lifted his child and said, You won’t believe the plans God has for you.

(STOP)

Could it be that God has the same plans for us?

To God be the Glory.   Amen.