Sermons and thoughts on faith on Scripture from my time at Old Presbyterian Meeting House and Falls Church Presbyterian Church, plus sermons and postings from "Pastor James," my blog while pastor at Boulevard Presbyterian in Columbus, OH.
"Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way." So begins Matthew's "Christmas story" which doesn't really tell of Jesus' birth at all. Instead it tells of Joseph learning that his betrothed is pregnant, and making plans to quietly divorce her so as not to cause her any public humiliation. Joseph acts as he does because he is "a righteous man."
Because he is a righteous man, a person who lives by God's laws and tries to do what is right, Joseph sets out to interfere with God's plans for salvation. Because he tries to play by the religious rules, Joseph finds himself an impediment to God. Fortunately Joseph pays attention to his dream where an angel of the Lord explains what is going on. Fortunately Joseph is willing to break the rules when doing so ends up helping God.
We know the Christmas story so well that it is hard for it to surprise us. Yet God's new thing arrives by most surprising means. It comes outside regular channels, even outside the rules. Jesus' birth will be known only to angels and outsiders, to country bumpkin shepherds and to Gentile foreigners. None of the local religious folks are invited. Perhaps God knows that they would be too offended by all the broken rules.
We need laws. We need religious rules and doctrines. But all these are only instruments. We do not serve them. We serve God, God who sends a Savior we might well have missed, if we didn't already know the story.
Joy to the world! The Lord is come. A blessed Christmas to all.
In today's gospel, Zechariah, father of John the Baptist, gets his turn to prophesy. His tongue loosed after the naming of John, he utters what is sometimes called the Song of Zechariah, speaking of a Savior, of God's favor that rescues. And all this happens because God "has remembered his holy covenant, the oath that he swore to our ancestor Abraham."
In a way, it all comes down to this. Sometimes, when the world seems to be going to pot, it is not so hard to imagine that God has forgotten us, that we are on our own, and whatever happens for good or ill is all up to us. But the biblical story insists that God does not forget. And it insists that God is faithful to God's promises.
I've always thought that the church gets carried away with Christmas, guided more by the culture's fascination with this holiday than by any real religious import. But there is a sense in which Christmas is a confirmation of God's memory, of God's faithfulness. And that certainly is worth celebrating.
Juliet asks, "What's in a name?" in Shakespeare's Romeo and Juliet. Today's gospel reading is about a name. After the child who will become John the Baptist is born, those who attend his circumcision assume he will be given a family name. But his mother, Elizabeth, insists that he is to be named John. Zechariah, the boy's father, confirms this, writing it on a tablet. Struck mute by Gabriel for failing to believe the promise of a son, Zechariah's voice now returns as he fulfills Gabriel's command, "You will name him John."
Ancient people tended to think that names had meaning, significance, and power. John's name means "Yahweh has shown favor," and it marks John as one given by God. By following the angel Gabriel's command, Zechariah confirms that this child will be the one God sends him to be, one who will "turn many of the people of Israel to the Lord their God."
While we may agonize of what to name our children, I think many of us are a bit put off by the notion of naming a child in order to direct her future. We want our children to be able to become whatever they want, and the father who insists his son go into the family business is a stock bad guy in many a TV or movie script. We like to think of ourselves as free and autonomous, and so the naming of John the Baptist is not a practice we'd like to emulate.
Yet one of the basic tenets of Christian faith is that we belong to God, that we are the Lord's. My own Presbyterian tradition has long articulated a strong doctrine of vocation. The term refers not to an occupation but to a calling. We say that God has made or fitted us for certain things and not for others. And we seem to know this intuitively when we ask, "What am I supposed to do with my life?"
When Jesus is born, his name has already been given to Mary and Joseph by an angel. Jesus has a clear calling given him by God, and presumably his parents worked diligently to help Jesus grow into that calling.
When we are baptized, we receive a new name, that of Christian, child of God. In a sense, we share in Jesus' name. But I wonder how often we stop and think what that means, what's in that name.
Each year, the Deacons of our congregation organize a huge effort to provide food and gifts to needy families. This year, boxes filled with food and presents for children were assembled and delivered to 359 families. Thanks to all who helped with this.
Today's gospel reading from Luke was also the reading for the fourth Sunday in Advent. It tells of Mary's visit to her cousin Elizabeth after the angel Gabriel has enlisted her to be the mother of Jesus. Luke's gospel begins in interesting fashion. The only ones who speak of the wondrous things God is doing are Gabriel and these two women (although I suppose we could say that John gets in a bit of pre-natal prophecy from the womb today). Zechariah, Elizabeth's husband, was struck mute for failing to believe Gabriel, and Joseph never gets to speak in Luke's gospel.
Luke's gospel is quite friendly to women. He will later tell of two sisters, Martha and Mary, who are visited by Jesus. Mary sits at Jesus' feet in the pose of a disciple. Women were not supposed to do such things, but when Martha objects that Mary is not helping her do the work expected of women, Jesus says that Mary has made the correct choice.
Today's reading explicitly states that Elizabeth is filled with the Holy Spirit when she speaks. And Mary's words are clearly prophetic. The announcement of the wonderful things God is doing is made on the lips of a most surprising prophet. The surprising ways of the coming Messiah are already prefigured in the surprising way his arrival is announced. All preconceived notions of how God should act or what channels God must use turn out to be of no interest to God. It seems that the Kingdom has little interest in human doctrines, theologies, and traditions. God will not be bound by our small thinking.
I do not think it is possible to be Christian without having theology and doctrines. We cannot be Christians in any profound sort of way without having doctrines and traditions to guide us. But we should realize that our best attempts to live as Jesus calls us never capture the fullness of all God is up to. God and God's plans are bigger and more wonderful that we can fully conceive. And I think that sums up the wonder of Christmas for me.
In the Magnificat, Mary takes the role of prophet, singing a song that describes the shape of God's coming new day. The song invites us to catch God's vision of the future.
I've often been perplexed by the parables of judgment Jesus tells. We hear another one today. In some of the last teachings before his death, Jesus speaks of 10 bridesmaids, 5 who are wise and 5 who are foolish. They go to meet the bridegroom, who is delayed for some reason. Falling asleep as they wait well into the night, they awake when the groom finally arrives but only the wise bridesmaids have oil left for their lamps. The foolish ones have to go buy oil and miss the banquet as a result.
The banquet is a common metaphor for the Kingdom, and so the lesson is terribly tragic. Only those who remained ready enter the kingdom. It seems a harsh teaching from one who gives his life for the sake of sinners.
But it may be important to remember that this teaching is done in private. It is for followers only, for disciples. It is not a warning about those folks outside the church being left out. It is a warning to those inside the church. Jesus' long delay in returning sometimes saps the urgency from the work of the Kingdom, but this parable is a not so subtle reminder to followers who would lose sight of its impending arrival.
When Jesus warns his followers, when he warns me, I don't think he is so much describing future events as he is encouraging a change in behavior. Jesus prods me, prods the Church to stay focused on our work.
Maybe our celebration of Christmas can be of help here. If it helps us once again catch God's dream, God's plan for peace on earth and goodwill to all, then perhaps it can help us to remain alert, awake, and ready for God's glorious new day.
Today's reading in Matthew has Jesus speaking of the proper pose for his followers until he returns. "Blessed is that slave whom his master will find at work when he arrives. Truly I tell you, he will put that one in charge of all his possessions." Jesus' use of slaves in this little parable is hardly surprising coming from a time when slavery was ubiquitous, and also not the racially based institution of this country's history. But I think there is still significant offense for modern readers even if allowance is made for Jesus' very different historical context.
Even if we update Jesus' language and have him say "servant" instead of "slave," the parable still makes Jesus the boss and us the servants. It still says that our lives are supposed to be about doing his bidding. Perhaps this is so obvious as not to need saying. Still, I find that few of us are actually interested in a faith where Jesus is truly in charge. We'd like to get God on our side. We'd like to figure out how faith and spirituality can make our lives be more meaningful and fulfilled. But we're not all that interested in being told what to do.
My wife once put a quote on the refrigerator that read something like, "Don't ask God to bless what you are doing. Get involved in what God is doing. It is already blessed." (I believe Bono of U2 quoted these words at a Washington, DC prayer gathering, but I have no idea who originally said it.) Sound advice, but the hardest thing in the world is for me to fully entrust my life to another, even when that other is God. I like being my own boss, my own god too much.
We're about to celebrate the birth of our Savior, King, and Lord. All those titles would suggest doing what Jesus says rather than what we want, but that's hard for many of us. Maybe one reason people so like Christmas with the babe in a manger is because the baby Jesus doesn't say anything, doesn't tell us to do anything.
This Christmas, I'm going to try to let a bit more of Jesus the Lord and King be born into my heart.
Rejoice in the LORD, O you righteous. Praise befits the upright. Praise the LORD with the lyre; make melody to him with the harp of ten strings. Sing to him a new song; play skillfully on the strings, with loud shouts.
On Sunday our choir performed Vivaldi's "Gloria" and performed it marvelously. (You can find video of it on this blog and on YouTube.) I think that some people were pleasantly surprised by how wonderful the music sounded. Like a lot of congregations, we often tend to underestimate our gifts and talents.
In our staff meeting this morning we were talking about risk taking and how to encourage more of it here at Boulevard. The conversation immediately turned to the Vivaldi piece and how it was something of a risk. Doing such a large and difficult selection is a daunting task, and it would have been easy for our music director or for the choir to balk at all the effort required. Thankfully, they didn't.
It is easy to be timid in responding the the call to worship and serve God, to balk because we don't imagine ourselves capable of doing something really big and significant. I'll have to ask the choir members whether or not they thought it was more than they could handle when they first saw the huge score of the Gloria. If so, I'll have to ask what changed their minds.
I wonder what God is calling me to do that I dismiss because it seems to big a task. How about you?
This clip contains the first five parts of the the cantata "Gloria," by Antonio Vivaldi, performed by the Chancel choir of Boulevard Presbyterian under the direction of Jeremy Roberts. Follow the YouTube link at right to find the rest of this beautiful work.
A sermon from Luke 3:7-18. Donald Miller writes that the same things that make a movie or story memorable or meaningful also work for our lives. Meaningful lives come from meaningful stories, and John the Baptist tells those who will listen the changes needed to make a good life.
"Now the birth of Jesus the Messiah took place in this way." So begins Matthew's "Christmas story" which doesn't really tell of Jesus' birth at all. Instead it tells of Joseph learning that his betrothed is pregnant, and making plans to quietly divorce her so as not to cause her any public humiliation. Joseph acts as he does because he is "a righteous man."
