January 26, 2014 EPHESIANS 1:3-14

SECOND SCRIPTURE READING (PASTOR)

EPHESIANS 1:3-14

Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ,

who has blessed us in Christ with every spiritual blessing in the heavenly places,

just as God chose us in Christ before the foundation of the world

to be holy and blameless before God in love.

God destined us for adoption as God’s children through Jesus Christ,

according to the good pleasure of God’s will,

to the praise of God’s glorious grace that God freely bestowed on us in the Beloved.

In Jesus Christ we have redemption through his blood,

the forgiveness of our trespasses,

according to the riches of God’s grace that God lavished on us.

With all wisdom and insight God has made known to us the mystery of God’s will,

according to God’s good pleasure that God set forth in Christ,

as a plan for the fullness of time,

to gather up all things in Christ,

 things in heaven and things on earth.

In Christ we have also obtained an inheritance,

having been destined according to the purpose of God

 who accomplishes all things according to God’s counsel and will,

so that we, who were the first to set our hope on Christ,

might live for the praise of God’s glory.

In Christ you also,

when you had heard the word of truth,

the gospel of your salvation,

and had believed in him,

were marked with the seal of the promised Holy Spirit;

this is the pledge of our inheritance toward redemption as God’s own people,

to the praise of God’s glory.

***

            I have met people like this, seen them sermonizing as if street corners were sanctuaries, heard them preaching from the pulpits of public transit, listened to their loquacious testimonies from hospital’s Behavioral Health units. Paul sounds like those people, and though I am not in the field of diagnosis, his words have the grandiosity of the mania in bipolar, sictzophrenia, or certain types of substance abuse.

            Paul speaks without pause, a run on sentence, that reads like thirty false starts which never get to the point. He uses metaphors such as adoption and inheritance, feelings such as love and grace and good pleasure and blessing. Paul’s setting is both, “things in heaven and things on earth.” He measures time from before the foundation of the world, to our destiny. All of this, spoken in cliches, which don’t seem to communicate much of anything, or, at least, don’t seem to really touch the hearer. Its the problem I have with subway preachers. Not knowing their audience, they make it easy to remain disconnected, as if for the hostage commuters and travelers, starring at our phones or the grey speckled floor is more of a connection then looking up into the preacher’s eyes. Staring at that floor we know there is a community of avoidance of which we are a part, and to recognize the preacher would be to go it alone, and risk the fear of being sucked in, or at least a sucker giving money. Either way, the sermon always seems to be about those preachers, about their beliefs, and us on the outside. Likewise, I wonder, if this is more about Paul.

            Paul, certainly, has been touched in a real way, and I believe that. I believe when he says, he has heard a word of truth, and I believe, he believes all he says, from his divine knowledge about God’s part in the foundation of the world, and its ultimate redemption. I believe Paul was touched in a real way. Paul was a man who debated against the Christians, was blinded on the road to Emmaus, was spoken to by God, and restored with both faith in Christ and sight. Paul was certainly touched by God, and I am not sure, how Paul could ever explain all that. I find also, that the moments which touch me the deepest, are the ones to which there are no words. I went on a full moon snowshoe the other night. It was one of the most exquisite scenes I have ever experienced. I have attempted at three separate times to write about it. I can’t. What comes out seems cliche and choppy and perhaps disrespectful to the moment itself because the chasm between what was, and my words is so wide. It makes sense to me that I can’t describe something so beautiful; neither sight nor feeling can be put into words. I can’t describe what God put in motion at the foundation of the world, nor can I explain what it feels like 4.5 billion years later to watch that same moon rise full over ___ at night. Yet, like Paul, I tried, and like Paul too, I sent my description along in a letter to some friends. Friends who both might scratch the surface of what the experience meant and therefore know my story more deeply, and friends who might edit its run on false starts, to make the description more clear. I hope they edit it to pieces because an experience of God, longs to be communicated, and perhaps this is just what Paul was attempting to do.

            I don’t know if Paul, is literally mentally ill, or if perhaps, I am. But there is something about trying to describe God which is crazy making, which is attempting to do the most impossible of all impossible. They say being crazy is to do the same thing and expect different results. Even while writing this sermon, I wonder when I can sit down next, and work on that description of the full moon. It will never match up to that night, but I still long to try. I suspect Paul was not too different. I suspect, the subway preacher is much the same, and maybe that is where the connection lies. Maybe, in Paul’s grandiose description, that subway sermon, and a letter about a full moon snowshoe, we can find the connection, in humanity’s ever present attempt to describe the divine.

            This connection tells us about ourselves, and it tells us about God. This connection tells us about our yearning, that we were created for closeness with our creator, it tells us of our adoption and inheritance, of love, and grace, and God’s good pleasure and blessing. It tells us of the things in heaven and things on earth, from the foundation of the world, to our destiny or redemption. This connection tells us a word of truth, when words are impossible. 

Januray 19, 2014 MATTHEW 3:13-17 NRSV

 MATTHEW 3:13-17 NRSV

13Then Jesus came from Galilee to John at the Jordan, to be baptized by him.

14 have prevented him, saying, “I need to be baptized by you, and do you come to me?”

15But Jesus answered him, John would  “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.”   Then he consented.

16And when Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him.

17And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

                                                                   ***

I look at this text and I see the divinity of Christ. I see a Jesus who knows he must fulfill a prophesy written ages prior. I see the heavens opening up, and God reaching down, and a dove of the Spirit, and a voice from heaven calling Jesus his son. It is all so wondrous, so ethereal, so far beyond this human world, and yet, somehow baptism is one of our two sacraments, somehow this divine story comes to us, and in this little sanctuary, we repeat this story in our own lives and the life of our church.

This is Baptism of the Lord Sunday, and we are asked to relate to Jesus coming to John, but most of the time, we relate to John. John would have said, “I need to be baptized by you Jesus,” and likewise, we would have said, “We are also unworthy to baptize you Jesus. You need to baptize us.” But perhaps, we miss the humanity of Jesus, who was a follower of John, who didn’t just show up in the wilderness at 30, and become the preacher, the teacher, the Son of the God.  He was always these lofty things, but he was not yet prepared before then. There is a lot of time we miss in Jesus’ life, and like us, Jesus had to prepare. The other day, over lunch, I was picking the brains of Nannette and Molly, and a woman came in, and noted that there were two amazing teachers sitting at one table. Nannette and Molly did not just show up in the classroom at thirty as the teachers they are today. There was a lot of schooling and training prior. Likewise, I listen to Annalea speak about horses, and though she is not yet even thirty, there is so much she has learned from a life of preparing, growing up with animals, going to school to care for animals, taking every opportunity to house sit for those with animals. Annalea didn't just show up at the barn at 30 and know all she knows now.

Jesus was likewise, he was been preparing for 30 years, many of which have been spent looking up to his cousin John. We can relate to this Jesus, this human one. Who comes to be baptized by someone he respects, and has followed. When we come to the font, or bring our children, we likewise come, asking the community believers to guide, and to lead, and to teach us, and our children, in the way of the Lord. We come to those who have been teaching us. Likewise, Jesus came to John, and Jesus comes to us. Jesus includes us, and asks us to be a part of this most divine story, this transcendent sacrament. The Son of Man, Son of God, fully human, and fully divine, would have come to John asking to be baptized, and likewise comes to us, and includes us in his ministry. He told John,  “Let it be so now; for it is proper for us in this way to fulfill all righteousness.” This line too, holds such divinity, of Jesus seeking to fulfill the ancient scriptures, and of Jesus knowing the future. He is referring to lines in Isaiah which foretell,

Isa.  42.1,  “Here  is  my  servant,  whom  I  uphold,  my  chosen,  in whom  my  soul  delights;  I  have  put  my  spirit  upon  him;  he  will bring forth justice to the nations.”

Isa.  61.1,  “The  spirit  of  the  Lord  God  is  upon  me,  because  the Lord  has  anointed me;  he  has  sent me to  bring  good  news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners;”

Jesus knows these scriptures. He knows he must be baptized. He knows the Spirit of God is upon him, and that he is anointed. He knows he is to bring forth justice to the nations. He knows he was sent to bring good news to the oppressed, to bind up the brokenhearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners. Only the Son of God could do all this. Only the Son of God would dare to fulfill the scriptures, and claim to know the future, and to be the future. 

It is hard to relate in to this superhero, special power kind of Jesus. Yet only the Son of

God, with all God's powers came to earth to be The Son of Man, for all our humanness. In fulfilling the scriptures we are also welcomed in. Jesus does not say, ‘It is proper for me …to fulfill all righteousness.’ Instead he says to John, and I believe to us as well, “It is proper for us to fulfill all righteousness.” Jesus includes John with the word, ‘us,’ and with that word us, we are also included. We are also a part of fulfilling the prophesy of the past, and given a glimpse into the future. Perhaps it is because Jesus said, ‘us,’ that John consented. Perhaps, because Jesus did not merely speak of his divinity, and of his ministry, and of his charge, but welcomed John into God's divine ministry and God's charge, John was part of the baptism of Jesus. And I wonder, have we consented to be a part of the baptism of Jesus? Have we understood that the charge is to us, not only to him? Along with Jesus, we too, through our baptism, are anointed by God to bring forth justice to the nations, to bind up the broken hearted, to proclaim liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners. As lofty and overwhelming as this charge sounds, have we accepted it, included ourselves in it, and do we know the blessing of it. That while we too, are included in this divine prophesy, we also are included in the divine blessing.

“When Jesus had been baptized, just as he came up from the water, suddenly the heavens were opened to him and he saw the Spirit of God descending like a dove and alighting on him. 17And a voice from heaven said, “This is my Son, the Beloved, with whom I am well pleased.”

January 12th, 2014 Matthew 2:1–12

In the time of King Herod, after Jesus was born in Bethlehem of Judea, wise men from the East came to Jerusalem, asking, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.” 

When King Herod heard this, he was frightened, and all Jerusalem with him; and calling together all the chief priests and scribes of the people, he inquired of them where the Messiah was to be born. They told him,

 “In Bethlehem of Judea; for so it has been written by the prophet: 

‘And you, Bethlehem, in the land of Judah, are by no means least among the rulers of Judah; for from you shall come a ruler who is to shepherd my people Israel.’” 

Then Herod secretly called for the wise men and learned from them the exact time when the star had appeared. Then he sent them to Bethlehem, saying,

 “Go and search diligently for the child; and when you have found him, bring me word so that I may also go and pay him homage.” 

When they had heard the king, they set out; and there, ahead of them, went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. And having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, they left for their own country by another road. 

***

Star, beckons the day at it's rising,

peering white dot through pink of sky

bidding us a new dawn.

Were you a star, your inner energy releasing,

radiating viable light into outer-space,

reaching from the dome of the sky

to give light to the earth?

We are asking.

Supernova, blasting color at black holes,

streaking light, and spinning bubbles

bringing us the luminosity of that first day.

Were you a supernova, outshining the sun and its galaxy,

separating light from darkness,

giving shape to the formless and void,

to be called good?

We have come.

Pole Star, first star seen at night,

starlight, star bright,

guiding magi through their plight

Were you a pole star, aligned with the earth's rotating axis,

fixed on celestial poles,

marking the wishes of heaven on earth

making a sign for seasons, and for days, and for years?

We have set out.

Conjunction of Planets, still rare in a span of nine lifetimes,

known only in star charts and ancient texts,

sightings from the East, to Jerusalem, to Bethlehem's sky

Were you a conjunction of planets, Saturn, Jupiter, and Mars,

circling around the greatest light to rule the day,

passing together 

shedding light on the greatest light to rule the day?

We saw.

Comet, blink of yellow-white in a bath of evening's blue glow

shooting star that stopped,

above the child in a manger-bed

Were you a comet, traveling North to South,

resistant of East to West

sweeping away the King's old order

proclaiming, “Let there be light.”

We are overwhelmed with joy!

Have you observed the star at its rising? Have you stood in awe at the wonder of a night’s  sky? Have you followed the trail of the milky way from one end of its concave darkness to the place where meets you here, lowly being, looking up? Have you mapped the constellations and told their stories, of Orion and Scorpio, of Cassiopeia  and Aries? Have you found your own story in their tiny points of light? Have you wondered about the creator’s story? Have you stood and wondered how far, how deep, how wide, are the heavens, and how small, and possibly insignificant are you? You, standing wondering, against ancient mysteries, that somehow find you now, tiny being, looking up at the sky, wondering, as practically each tiny-being before you has also wondered, and as will each tiny-being to come?

It makes sense to me that God came through a star. It makes sense to me that God came through the space that allows us to wonder, the space that perhaps will never have complete answers, the space which is so far beyond our knowing, yet reaches us each night. It makes sense to me that God came through a star, because it is both unreachable, and here with us always. 

I think about those wise men, those astrologers, those learned few, who read the old scriptures and who followed the new star. They knew that the mystery of God was not to be found in the Kings of this world. They knew the mystery God would not come from a palace, but from a place unknown. They knew the mystery of God would not come from a strong and powerful ruler, but a vulnerable child. They knew that God was in the mystery, the stars and the wonder. 

The wise men came to Jerusalem asking, “Where is the child who has been born king of the Jews? For we observed his star at its rising, and have come to pay him homage.” And is homage not what we do, even today, when we look up at the heavens? You can’t look and go on. When you look up at the stars, you stop, you pause, you take a breath, and you find yourself lost in its bigness, in your own smallness, in its timelessness, in your finiteness. You stop, you wonder, you stand in awe, and perhaps you think about God. in that stargazing moment, life is still going on, broken and incomplete, but in looking at the stars it pauses, and something changes. 

The same was true for the wise-men, life was messy. King Herod was the Kim Jon Ill of his time, completely unpredictable, insane, and dangerous. It doesn’t get much worse to then to live in that kind of fear, and all of Jerusalem was terrified. King Herod conivingly asked the wise men for word of the child to pay him homage, but Herod intended to kill the child. The wise men faced their own big messy life, but instead they choose to wonder up at the stars, and to follow that gleaming unlikely path, and in so doing they found God. After leaving Herod, ahead of them went the star that they had seen at its rising, until it stopped over the place where the child was. When they saw that the star had stopped, they were overwhelmed with joy. On entering the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother; and they knelt down and paid him homage. Then, opening their treasure chests, they offered him gifts of gold, frankincense, and myrrh. Because they choose to stargaze, the wise-men encountered God in the Christ-child. Because they wondered about the heavens, they were able to find an answer about God on earth. Because they followed a star they were able to kneel down before God. It makes me wonder, if wondering itself, is perhaps one of the most faithful acts. It makes me wonder if taking the a moment to stargaze leads us close to God. If taking the time to cross country ski up at Anthony, or walk the Leo Adler path, or simply look out our window at night to find the moon, is an act of faith. To know that God is a God of wonder beyond our imagination. To know that God can be found in following a star, or watching a snowflake fall from a grey sky to a clear drop on a path. To know that God is present in the wonder of our lives, and is leading us there. 

The wise men, having been warned in a dream not to return to Herod, left for their own country by another road. I think this is true, that if we have looked to the heavens, and followed where they lead, we do not leave that place unchanged. We do not return by the same road from which we came. We are forever changed, because we have God. We have met God in wonder, in mystery, and in unlikely places. I think this is what God intended in Epiphany. God draws our attention away from the mess, and into the mystery, away from simple answers, and into awe, away from the expected, and into the unfathomable. 

Perhaps, our most faithful acts, are the times when stop to wonder, at something as unexpected as a bright star. Perhaps, our most faithful acts, are to pause and to follow that which gives us pause, that which is so far beyond our finite existence  into that which is eternal. Perhaps, in our pausing, in our wondering, in our following, and our being changed, we live out our faith, just as three wise-men, so long ago. 

January 5th 2014 Matthew 25:31-46

31  "When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, then he will sit on the throne of his glory. 32  All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats, 33  and he will put the sheep at his right hand and the goats at the left. 34  Then the king will say to those at his right hand, 

'Come, you that are blessed by my Father, inherit the kingdom prepared for you from the foundation of the world; 35  for I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, 36  I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.' 

37  Then the righteous will answer him, 'Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry and gave you food, or thirsty and gave you something to drink? 38  And when was it that we saw you a stranger and welcomed you, or naked and gave you clothing? 39  And when was it that we saw you sick or in prison and visited you?' 40  And the king will answer them, 'Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.' 

41  Then he will say to those at his left hand, 'You that are accursed, depart from me into the eternal fire prepared for the devil and his angels; 42  for I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, 43  I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not give me clothing, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.' 

44  Then they also will answer, 'Lord, when was it that we saw you hungry or thirsty or a stranger or naked or sick or in prison, and did not take care of you?' 45  Then he will answer them, 'Truly I tell you, just as you did not do it to one of the least of these, you did not do it to me.' 46  And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life." 

***

I don’t particularly like the idea of God separating us sheep from goats, but I am thankful for a God who plays an even hand, and tells it like it is. I am thankful for Jesus in this passage, who makes the effort to let people know how they’ve affected him. I am thankful because, sometimes, both the warnings and the callings out, the bravos and the appreciations, are exactly what we need to hear. 

This weekend I helped a friend drive a car from Texas to L.A. By the end of the long drive, I had had one of those, “Alexander, and the No Good, Horrible, Very Bad Days,” or rather couple days, and like Alexander in that children’s book, everything between my friend and I seemed to stack up. It had started off badly with changed expectations, a lack of communication, and an instance of underlying hurt, which only snowballed as the days progressed. Have you been on trips like this? It is called being human, It’s what happens when you are in relationship. This weekend’s issue had the classic formula of trying not to make a big deal of something little, until the little things added up to became a big deal, and I realized the first small thing was big enough. It could be a small thing to give someone clothing when they are naked, food when they are hungry, care when they are sick, but it becomes a big thing when you are the naked, the hungry, or the sick, a big thing to be denied, and a big thing to be given. I think Jesus gets this and is showing us how to have that hard conversation. 

Jesus tells the people, “I was hungry and you gave me no food, I was thirsty and you gave me nothing to drink, I was a stranger and you did not welcome me, naked and you did not give me clothing, sick and in prison and you did not visit me.” Jesus, after pages of parables, is here telling us straight. He leaves no wiggle room for misunderstanding, both of the incident, and of his feelings. Jesus says, When you did nothing, I felt hungry, thirsty, naked, unwelcomed, and uncared for. In communication, these are often called, “I statements.” They begin, “When you ____, I felt____.”  They are used to get beyond defensiveness  and into understanding of one another’s feelings. Jesus is using those I statements, and modeling for us the importance of speaking our pain and anger. I wonder how often do we have this same courage to say how we were hurt, and what we really need? How often instead, do we bury those hurts, and call them small? How often do we expect someone to visit, or call, or write, and because they didn’t we write them off? How often do we tell a third party of our hurt or frustration, instead of letting the offender know the offense, and the pain? 

It is not an easy thing to do. What is at stake is sharing how you feel, and still feeling unheard. What is at stake is asking for food and walking away hungry. What is at stake is possibly accepting the reality that we may truly be unwelcomed. But to assume such things, or denies the possibility of being wrong. Jesus says, “You did not do it to me.' 46  And these will go away into eternal punishment, but the righteous into eternal life.” Sometimes when our need for care goes unsaid, we end up in a hell of our own making and our own assuming. The people say, “When was it that you were hungry and I gave you no food?” They did not realize what they weren’t doing. And isn’t it this way most of the time. The offense was never intended, and often unrealized. My friend had no idea how I was feeling, until I told her. Making me feel like a third wheel was the last thing she intended. I think we are like this. People don’t intend to hurt. Sometimes we just need to be told we have hurt. Sometimes we just need to let people know we are hurt. But this is not all of it. 

There is a flip side, sometimes we need to tell people how they have fed us. At the end of the long Alexander and the No Good Day Car Trip, I saw my long time friend Liam. He sensed that things were rough and stole me away to the ocean. Seagulls and sandpipers glowed white like neon, bobbing upon the night darkened deep. I waded and played, jumping and swimming up to my legs in the cold breaking Pacific surf. Under the street lights of Route 1, absinth colored crests, cloudy and blue green, met the shore, and met me equally electrified. Liam, warm in long sleeves and leather saddle oxfords watched me as I imagine parents watch their children play. 

I ran, feet on wet sand coming in, and then he pointed out the seals, and I swam again adjoined by two seals’ shadowed silhouettes. My excitement was mirrored by gratitude toward an old friend who knew the antidote in patterned waves. Thankful, ever so thankful I texted him in detail my thanks. I don’t think Liam will ever know how his detour altered my trip. His response was, “no problem.” It was a little thing to him, but it was big thing to me. I was fed, with my favorite food, when I was so hungry.  And this too is what Jesus models. Jesus models saying,

“I was hungry and you gave me food, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you welcomed me, I was naked and you gave me clothing, I was sick and you took care of me, I was in prison and you visited me.' 

When you ____, I felt ____. Jesus says. How often do we take the time to tell someone how what they did affected us. How often do we risk perhaps sounding cheesy, or putting ourselves out there, or being misunderstood. 

And like Liam, the response is, “When was it that I gave you food or drink, clothing, or welcomed you, and visited you.”

In the airport as I waited for my plane back a woman told me she was going her mother dying of cancer. This is what happens when you are pastor on plane. People download their stories. But in the midst of a brief conversation she said, “I think God put you right here next to me for just this.” It made me feel like she could see God through me. ….

 Sometimes when how we received care goes unsaid, we miss letting someone know how they’ve prepared the kingdom.

I am thankful for Jesus in this passage, who makes the effort to let people know how they’ve affected him. I am thankful because, sometimes, both the warnings and the callings out, the bravos and the appreciations, are exactly what we need to hear. Sometimes when how we received care goes unsaid, we miss letting someone know how they’ve prepared the kingdom. Sometimes when our need for care goes unsaid, we end up in a hell of our own making and our own assuming.

December 24, 2013 LUKE 2:1-20

1In those days a decree went out from Emperor Augustus that all the world should be registered. 2This was the first registration and was taken while Quirinius was governor of Syria. 3All went to their own towns to be registered. 4Joseph also went from the town of Nazareth in Galilee to Judea, to the city of David called Bethlehem, because he was descended from the house and family of David. 5He went to be registered with Mary, to whom he was engaged and who was expecting a child. 

HYMN: O LITTLE TOWN OF BETHLEHEM #44

6While they were there, the time came for her to deliver her child. 7And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in bands of cloth, and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn.

HYMN: AWAY IN A MANGER 24/25

8In that region there were shepherds living in the fields, keeping watch over their flock by night. 9Then an angel of the Lord stood before them, and the glory of the Lord shone around them, and they were terrified. 10But the angel said to them, “Do not be afraid; for see — I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: 11to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord. 12This will be a sign for you: you will find a child wrapped in bands of cloth and lying in a manger.” 13And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host, praising God and saying,
14  “Glory to God in the highest heaven,
          and on earth peace among those whom he favors!”

HYMN:                           Hark the Herald Angels Sing #31

15When the angels had left them and gone into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, “Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.” 16So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger. 17When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; 18and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. 19But Mary treasured all these words and pondered them in her heart. 20The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.

HOMILY

I can not tell you what it is to be a mother, like Mary, or a father like Joseph. What I can tell you, is how it feels to be the Shepherds. I can tell you how it feels when you are invited to share in other people’s children. I still feel special and surprised when the children of this church know my name. When Silas runs up with a story to tell, or Alex explains some far away fact, or Maddie gives me jumping-dancing-hugs, or when Coleman lays belly up smiling for me to tickle him again and again, or when little Kathryn or Magnolia draw me pictures which I hang in my robe closet, what I see right before I head to worship, or even when Kate comes up to me in the ski lodge, or Tanya takes the time to include me in a conversation. It’s like this in the church, not only for me as the pastor, but for all of us. We baptize children, and they become a part of our family, but it takes those parents first allowing and welcoming us to know them, and to help raise them, and to get to enjoy them. The other night caroling at the nursing homes, I am sure it would have been easier for the parents to keep their kids at home: five times in and out of cars - hoisting and buckling, unbuckling and parking lot handholding, five times jackets and mittens and hats on and off and holding it all and keeping track, five times corralling in unfamiliar and kid unfriendly rooms, to end up at the manse which, regrettably, is more suited to a ladies tea than preschool running around. But I tell you, the kids made the night, they reminded us how fun jingle bells is, how exciting musical instruments can be, how any room is a playground and any house hide-and-seek-able. We adults were singing, but those in the nursing home watched the kids, and honestly, we carolers were also watching the kids, because in their play, and in their joy, was God, was Christmas, and we, the shepherds, were welcomed to share. 

You see, the angel did not just come and let the shepherds know Mary and Joseph had a child. The angel came and said, “to you, is born this day,… a child.” I think of my mom, and the story of the phone call that let them know I was theirs to adopt. A handful of women were over sitting in the living room, and my mom got up to answer the phone. Minutes later she was squealing and excitedly jumping, and wrapped herself up in the phone cord. (Little did she know that I was no Jesus, much less an angel,) but what she did know, was that a child had been shared with her.  I wonder if this is what the shepherds felt. I wonder if they felt invited in, if they felt that joy.  If jumping around in a phone cord was response to my birth, can you imagine the shepherds’ to Jesus? I have always thought of them as calm, with their sheep, and staffs, but perhaps they too jumped up and down, perhaps they too squealed with delight. Perhaps, they too, felt a prayer had been answered. Can you imagine what it must have felt like to have the angel tell them, “This will be a sign for you: you will find a child.” These was not a mere phone call, a text with height and weight, a Facebook post with photos. This was a come on down to the hospital, and here are the directions to get there. This was the welcome for close family members and friends and here the shepherds were receiving it.  

I know this overwhelming feeling. Today, I got text from my former husbands’ sister, who still calls me Auntie Katy. They were thinking of me today, knowing this service was on my plate, and in a half joke, of inspiration on this birthing celebration of Christmas, she fittingly sent me the video of her birthing her second child. She welcomed me into the hospital room, and I watched her husband catch little Mia, and place her on my sister-in-law. Could there be a more intimate moment? Could you welcome someone into the life of your child more, then to welcome them into the very first moments of that child’s life? This truly is the welcome of God. I do not deserve such welcome, no one can. Therefore, it is such grace to be afforded it, to be welcomed into the life of a child. Likewise, the shepherds would not have expected to be invited to the birth. The shepherds are the outcasts, they live out in the fields, in that dirt and the smell of livestock, they are night workers of their society, the grocery store stockers, the bartenders, the night cleaning crew, the night nurses. They would not have been welcomed to any regular birth, much less welcomed into the life of a child, to love and enjoy as their own. No wonder they go right then. 

“Let us go now to Bethlehem and see this thing that has taken place, which the Lord has made known to us.” So they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the child lying in the manger.”

No wonder, I open my arms and ask for a, jumping-dancing-hug every time I say goodbye to Maddie. No wonder, I have kids (and some of you adult’s,) pictures taped inside my robe door. No wonder the elderly at nursing room dinner tables watched the kids play, because we were welcomed in, and when we get the chance we look to see this thing which has taken place, we go with haste, we find the babe wrapped in swaddling clothes and laying in a manger. This babe, born to us, not merely Mary and Joseph’s child, this was not merely God’s child, though it was these, it was also the shepherds’ child, and our own. And though these things make us speechless, there is a way we cannot but tell the story. 

I don’t know anyone, who having seen a child newly born, or do something super cute, does not go home and share the news. It is the reason that the stories those in this church go home telling, are the ones where one kid or another did something in worship, be it Jake answering a question in a creative way, like monster trucks in heaven, or Michael lighting an Advent candle, or Bryson reading a story about bullying. When we have witnessed a child, we witness God, and we are changed, and go forth to tell the story. We someone shares their child with us, we in turn share the story, and thus share God with others. 

“When they saw this, they made known what had been told them about this child; and all who heard it were amazed at what the shepherds told them. The shepherds returned, glorifying and praising God for all they had heard and seen, as it had been told them.”

Long, long ago, these mere shepherds were welcomed to the birth, were given a child born to them, and in turn they shared with all. Years and years later, we find ourselves here, in our own nativity, coming in from our fields at night, to find this child born to us, to receive the promise of good news and to feel great joy, the joy of children, the joy of this child, a child born to you. Yet, like God, like Mary and Joseph, like the shepherds, this is not a child to keep for yourself, it is a child to share.