Showing posts with label Luke 2:1-20. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Luke 2:1-20. Show all posts

Sunday, December 25, 2011

"The People who walked in darkness have seen a great light"

May you all have a blessed Christmas. My sermon from the 10:30 pm Christmas Eve service is below. The lessons are Isaiah 9:2-7 Titus 2:11-14  and Luke 2:1-14(15-20).

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The prophet foretold, “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness – on them light has shined.”
Something happened long ago, in the shadows of an obscure desert town in a far corner of the Roman Empire. It seemed ordinary at first: 
The birth of a baby. 
At first, only his parents knew how extraordinary this was. All parents think their babies are extraordinary, of course. 

At first, no wise men came, no shepherds, no disciples, no adoring masses. No one was there but his parents. 
The gospel writer Luke tells us this baby was born in a stable; born not into wealth, not into power, not into social status or aristocratic inheritance. 

This baby, like so many tens of millions of babies then and now, entered life in relative poverty and without much of a chance. 

The survival of this baby, like tens of millions of other babies then and now, was not so certain at first. 
This baby was born out of wedlock, to Jewish parents from the hill country of Galilee, a land occupied by a foreign power, the Roman Empire. 

The mother was barely a teenager; her name was Miriam, or Mary. She was to have an arranged marriage with a man named Joseph, but she became pregnant – and not by him – before the wedding. 
That fact put her in grave danger because her pregnancy was a violation of the law.
Joseph was a carpenter, and in those days carpenters made simple implements like wooden bowls and mallets. 

Carpenters like Joseph led a meager hand-to-mouth existence. 
Joseph stuck by Mary when he didn’t have to. He could have had her stoned to death for dishonoring him, but instead the two fled their hometown of Nazareth. 

The gospel writer gives this a polite patina by saying they were going to Bethlehem to register for a census. Except that historians tell us there was no census. Mary and Joseph were probably fleeing the judgmental eyes of their relatives. 
Getting to Bethlehem was not easy and they were lucky to survive the journey. The road goes over hills and robbers hide along the way. 
They had nowhere to go in Bethlehem; either there were no relatives in Bethlehem or none would take them in. 
And so they had their baby in a stable – a barn. Other legends say they birthed this baby in a dark cave, and Bethlehem is riddled with caves. 

Caves also are where people are buried. To be born in a cave was not a sign of regal distinction. To be born in a cave was a sign of someone living in constant fear. 
There was absolutely nothing outwardly extraordinary about this birth.
Not at first. 
Then, the gospel writer tells us, the angels started showing up. 
The angels came to shepherds in a field, at night. The angels didn’t come to kings, aristocrats and high priests. The angels came to the shepherds. 
Shepherds were an even lower class than carpenters. They lived outdoors, slept in caves, and lived with sheep, and they smelled.

And these particular shepherds had the night watch. These shepherds to whom the angels came this night were the lowest of the low. 
The angels told them something extraordinary was happening: 

The birth of a baby in a stable, and this baby would be the messiah, the One who would bring them salvation and freedom, the anointed One of God they had longed for. 
How could that be?, these shepherds wondered. This baby? Here? 
The shepherds were terrified. We are but lowly shepherds, they said, and this baby is in a barn. 

This is not what we expect. This is very different than anything we have been told by every teacher we’ve ever heard. 
The shepherds went to see for themselves. They found the baby lying in a hay trough.
And then the lowliest of the low understood what this was about. 
It was about them. 
They expected a king on a throne tossing off judgments like thunderbolts, but found a healer who would lead a life of simplicity, prayer and truth. 
They expected a God of war. They got the Prince of Peace. 
Later people would try to explain this with complicated theologies, flavored by ancient Greek philosophy, medieval mysticism, modern scientific inquiry, post-modern skepticism. 

People would cover this baby in many layers of words down through the ages. He would wear a lot of swaddling clothes. 
But tonight we have a baby in a manger, only this baby. We are at the beginning of the story of a very frightened poor family long ago, and a naked baby in a stable. 
This messiah whose birth we mark tonight is different than anyone, or anything the world expects. 

He comes to set people free in their lowest places, in their lowest moments, and to bring unconditional love and unlimited healing that lasts beyond this world. He comes with no conditions, no strings attached. 
What better way for God to tell us this than with a helpless baby, born in the lowest caste, in the most obscure place on earth?

The world of power and politics is turned upside down by this one birth. Human expectations, human economies, human politics is upended. 
The story of Jesus – his birth, his life, and his death on the Cross, begins this night. 

The story of Easter begins on this night, too – the story of how Jesus rose from the grave to appear to his followers and give them strength and courage against all human odds. 
Christmas is this great bookend with Easter, and truly the two must be seen together for they are inseparable. 
Those who first saw the Risen Christ of Easter continued to write this story in the way they lived afterwards. The first Christians called this new religion simply “The Way.” 
Their story is also our story. We continue to write this story of Christmas and Easter each day of our life. 

This way of life, this way of faith, is not just about the afterlife. It is about this life. It is about how we live right now, here, today and tomorrow. 

This Christmas night, I would invite you to find ways to deepen your faith, to set aside a regular time each day for prayer. 

I would invite you to renew your faith by being in this faith community once again.
If you don’t have a regular community of faith, and you live here in Charlottesville, think about joining us here at St. Paul’s. 

If you have been away from this church for a while, make this your first day back.
And ask yourself this: 

How is God tugging at your heart tonight? What acts of kindness and generosity are calling you in the new year? 

What do you want to strengthen in your life, and what is dragging on you that you need to shed? 
Bring it to prayer. Have courage. Act. 
And then let’s get to work together in the new year: We have people feed, the sick to comfort, children to raise, and a hurting world needing every single one of us. 
This way of life will change everything in this world if we let it. 
This way of life begins once again tonight with the birth of a baby long ago. 
And the prophet foretold, “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness – on them light has shined.” 
May you have many blessings this Christmas Night and always. AMEN.

Sunday, December 26, 2010

Christmas Eve reprise: The Friendly Beasts

We've had quite the Christmas at St. Paul's! And the snow began to fall just as we were finishing our Christmas Day worship.

On Christmas Eve, we put a new wrinkle on the singing of an old carole -- "The Friendly Beasts" (Ok, it is my personal favorite; you can hear it by clicking HERE).

We gave children toy animals to bring to the manger. They come up with their animals and I gave them a short children's homily.

Then we led them around the church in a long extended children's procession while we say the Friendly Beasts. When we got back to the manger, the children gave their animals to the baby Jesus. I then finished the homily in the pulpit. The idea of two parts came from my mentor Don Brown, and the photo is by Diane Wakat, showing the children during the homily. We had about 75 kids marching around the church. Here below is my Friendly Beasts homily:
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Merry Christmas!
First, I want to talk to the children, but the rest of you can listen in. So, kids, come up here for a few minutes. Bring your animals, but hold onto them because you are going to help them in a little while.
Tonight you are going to meet the animals that who were there on that first Christmas night. I want you to imagine what happened with the animals on the night Jesus was born.
Do you know where Jesus was born? Jesus was born in a stable, or a barn. He was surrounded by his mother and father and many animals.
Each of the animals brought a gift to the baby Jesus, and tonight I want you to help the animals bring their gifts to the baby Jesus.
In a few minutes, you will bring the animals to the baby Jesus so the animals can give Jesus their gifts. Think you can do that for them?
Let me tell you about the gifts from the animals.

These are not gifts that the animals went out and bought because, of course, animals don't have any money.
There was a donkey whose gift was to carry Jesus’ mother up hill and down so she could get Bethlehem where Jesus was born.
And a cow whose gift was hay for a pillow; and a sheep with a curly horn who gave Jesus a blanket. And a dove who watched and cooed to help Jesus go to sleep.
And there were many more animals too. On that first night, the animals stayed with Jesus, and his parents, Mary and Joseph.
All the animals simply gave Jesus the best of who they were. They gave freely and happily just because they loved this special baby who was God's gift to the world.
The animals understood who this baby was long before the Wise Men came.
Maybe animals are smarter than people sometimes. What do you think?
All the animals are with us tonight to teach us a lesson. They know that Christmas Eve is very special because we all get a very special gift from God that last forever.
On Christmas Night, the animals teach us we are all blessed by God's Son, and they know they are loved by God forever.
If the animals know they are loved, maybe we can learn this too.
We are all loved by God – that is the real meaning of Christmas for all of God's creatures – you and me and all the animals.
In a minute, we are going to stand up, and we are going to march around the church to bring our animals to Jesus.
You are going to help the animals by bringing them to the manger, representing the first gifts on that first Christmas night.
And when we start marching, I hope you will stand up and sing for our children, and sing like you never have before. If you miss a few notes, who cares?
So let’s get started…
[SINGING FRIENDLY BEASTS]
Tonight, I as our children brought the animals to the manger, I am reminded once again what a gift our children are to us.
Our children are reminders that we are all loved by God, no matter our age, our station in life, or what we have done right or wrong in life.
God loves our children unconditionally, and God loves you. No strings attached.
The voices of the Angels declare this love in the starry night, in the carols we sing, in the beauty of creation, in the glow of candles, in the joy we find even in the midst of sorrow and troubles.
And inside all this is the mystery of God's great boundless love that reaches out to embrace you and me.
This love heals and makes possible new beginnings. This love can transform you, and bring joy to the very heart of your life.
This is the truest gift of Christmas; the gift of Jesus brings into our world on a dark winter night. Hold that in your heart this night.
The angel tells us “Do not be afraid,” so don’t be.
To hold Christmas in your heart is to set aside fear, and see that God loves us enough to dwell among us as one of us, to knit us together as one community with many members.
We don’t think alike, talk alike, look alike, or vote alike. None of that is important tonight.
What is important is we are all loved by God no matter who we are or where we come from.

In a short while we will do something to show ourselves as one community, knit together by Christ as the people of God who are loved by God.
We will come together to share in the bread and wine of Holy Communion. I hope you will stay for this, our first meal of Christmas, the first Christmas present given to us.
Whether you have been to Communion a hundred times or this is your first venture into this sacred shared meal, I hope you will take the opportunity tonight to see and taste this bread and wine in a new way.
I hope you experience this Communion tonight as part of your deepest connection to each other and to the God who brought you here, and your connection to a baby born long ago.
So please don’t be shy in coming; all are invited tonight to share in this wonderful communion with each other and the Christ child who comes to us this night.
And don’t let this Christmas communion end for you when you leave tonight. Make tonight a new beginning.
Leave here with new eyes and new ears – for you are Christmas people, and you can see the world in a new way – just as the animals saw the Christ child for the first time on a starry night long ago.
This Christmas season, I would invite you to find ways to deepen your faith, to set aside a regular time each day for prayer, and to join a community of faith if you don’t have one.
If you live here in Charlottesville, and if this experience tonight speaks to you, join us here at St. Paul’s. If you have been away from this church for a while, come back. We want you here with us.
Join us and let’s explore this way of faith together.
May each of you, young and old alike, again know the presence of Christ's blessing and love in your life on this night and forever more. Amen.

Saturday, December 25, 2010

Blessings this Christmas Day!

May you be filled with joy this Christmas Day!

Here is my sermon from this morning, based on Luke 2:1-14(15-20):

“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness – on them light has shined.”

Something happened long ago, something so extraordinary it seemed ordinary at first:
The birth of a baby.
Only his parents knew how extraordinary this was at first.
No wise men came, no shepherds, no disciples, no adoring masses, no one was there but his parents.
The gospel writer tells us this baby was born in a stable; born not into wealth, not
into power, not into social status or aristocratic inheritance.
This baby, like so many tens of millions of babies then and now, entered life in obscurity and relative poverty.
The survival of this baby, like tens of millions of other babies then and now, was not so certain at first.
This baby was born out of wedlock, to Jewish parents living in a land occupied by a foreign power, the Roman Empire.
The mother was barely a teenager; her name was Miriam, or Mary. She was to have an arranged marriage with a man named Joseph, but she became pregnant – and not by him – before the wedding.
Her life was immediately in grave danger.
Joseph was a carpenter, and in those days carpenters made simple implements like wooden bowls and mallets. Carpenters like Joseph led a meager hand-to-mouth existence.
Joseph stuck by Mary when he didn’t have to. He could have had her stoned to death, but instead the two fled their hometown of Nazareth.
The gospel writer gives this a polite patina by saying they were going to Bethlehem to register for a census. Except that historians tell us there was no census. Mary and Joseph were probably fleeing scandal and the judgmental eyes of their relatives.
They had nowhere to go in Bethlehem; either there were no relatives in Bethlehem or none would take them in.
And so they had their baby in a stable – a barn.
There was absolutely nothing outwardly extraordinary about this birth.
Not at first.
Then, the gospel writer tells us, the angels started showing up.
And the angels didn’t come to kings or aristocrats. They came to shepherds in a field, at night.
Shepherds were an even lower class than carpenters. They lived outdoors, they lived with sheep, they smelled. And these particular shepherds had the night watch, the lowest of the low.
The angels came to the shepherds to tell them something extraordinary was happening. The birth of a baby in a stable, and this baby would be the messiah, the one who would bring them salvation and freedom, the one they had been waiting for.
How could that be? This baby? Here?
The shepherds were terrified. We are but lowly shepherds, and look, over there, this baby is in a barn. This is not what we expect. This is very different.
But the shepherds went, and looked, and then they understood. They found the Anointed One, the Christ, lying in a hay trough.
They expected a king on a throne tossing off judgments like thunderbolts, but they got a healer who would lead a life of simplicity, prayer and truth.
They expected a God of war. They got the Prince of Peace.
The truth of the message of Jesus Christ can be heard right here, in the story of his birth. This messiah is different than anyone or anything the world expects. He comes to set people free in their lowest places, their lowest moments, to bring unconditional love and unlimited healing that lasts beyond this world.
What better way for God to tell us this than by coming to us in a helpless baby, born in the lowest caste?
The world of power and politics is turned upside down by this one birth. Everything is now different.
The story of Jesus – his birth, his life, his ministry and his death on the Cross begins this day. So does the story of Easter, and how Jesus after his death appeared to his followers and gave them strength and courage against all odds.

Christmas forms this great bookend with Easter, and truly the two must be seen together.
Those who first saw the Risen Christ of Easter continued to write this story in the way they lived afterwards. The first Christians called this new religion simply “The Way.”
Their story is also our story. We continue to write this story by the way we live our lives.
This way of life, this way of faith, is not just about the afterlife. It is about this life. It is about how we live right now, here, today and tomorrow.
This Christmas season, I would invite you to find ways to deepen your faith, to set aside a regular time each day for prayer, and to join a community of faith if you don’t have one.
If you live here in Charlottesville, and if any of this speaks to you, join us here at St. Paul’s. If you have been away from this church for a while, come back.
Join us and let’s explore this way of life and faith together in this loving caring community.

And then we have work to do, people feed, the sick to comfort, children to rear, and a hurting world that needs every single one of us.
This way of life will change you if you let it. This way of life will change everything in this world if we let it.
This way of life begins today with the birth of a baby long ago.
“The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light; those who lived in a land of deep darkness – on them light has shined.”
May you have many blessings this Christmas Day and always. AMEN.

Friday, December 25, 2009

The Hope of Christmas

This is my sermon from yesterday evening. May you have a joyful and blessed Christmas. The sermon is taken from Luke 2:(1-7)8-20 .

I would venture that all of us are here because somehow, some way, being here tonight represents the Hope of Christmas for each of us.

The Hope of Christmas that I speak of is about our deepest longings for a better world to come for ourselves and for all of those we love.

Our Hope of Christmas is that the sick will be healed, in body, mind and spirit.

Our Hope of Christmas is that the hungry will be fed and prosperity will fill the land.

Our Hope of Christmas is for peace on earth, for good will among women and men – and children – and true justice for all people everywhere.

Our Hope of Christmas is for things we have never seen.
Ours is an outlandish hope.

Maybe that kind of hope is a little hard to see right now. Maybe someone you know is ill or troubled. Maybe there is something weighing on you.

This morning, as I was coming into the building, I stopped at the black mailbox you may have noticed on the corner. It is actually a “prayer box” that one of our university students, Emily, put up last year. The box has a pen and index cards, and people write how they would have us pray for them.

I took out the cards this morning, and I was struck by how much people are grasping for hope.
Let me read you a few:

“Please pray for income to support my family.”

“I pray business picks up for me,” written on the back of cab driver’s card.

“For the one’s that are really the forgotten ones,” written on a card by a homeless man, Jeff.

“Peace for everyone.”

And this one…

“Can God please accept me as I am?”

These prayers, these dreams, these longings of the heart and mind are exactly why we are here this night – exactly why we must speak of the Hope of Christmas.

“Hope” is a curious word. My dictionary defines it as “A wish or desire accompanied by confident expectation of its fulfillment.”

Where do we find this kind of hope? Where can we place confident expectations for fulfillment on this Christmas Day?

I think by our being here tonight, we are declaring loud and clear something miraculous about where we find our Hope.

All of our hopes, all of our dreams, are embodied in this small baby whose birth we celebrate tonight. We are drawn together because of that one fact, the birth of Jesus, the anointed One, the Christ, into our world.

His birth changes everything in our world.

What an amazing faith this is – to see all of the hopes of the world in a tiny baby born in as humbly as a human being could be born – in a stable.

As familiar as the story is, please hear this one basic fact of Christmas:

Two-thousand years ago, God chose to be with us born as a helpless baby and not as a majestic Zeus-like figure. That was surprising then as it is surprising now.

He was born to an unwed, very young mother: Miriam – we would call her “Mary.”

She named her son “Yesous,” or Joshua – and we would later call him “Jesus.” He was born in scandal, and lived much of his life violating religious rules.

That people would see in this child the divine is nothing short of a miracle, for they were certainly experiencing an idea of God that was as far from a their expectations of a messiah as could be imagined.

No gloss or theologizing can cover up how radical a concept of the divine this is, then or now.
Some of the prophets of old expected a regal king who would bring righteousness to earth with a mighty sword and thunderbolts.

Some of our modern-day would-be prophets expect the same thing: a warrior who will vanquish every foe.

But we get Jesus, born in poverty and out of wedlock. We get the Prince of Peace.

What kind of God is this who would come to earth in such a place under such conditions? A God who is with us – Emmanuel – that is the meaning of the name Emmanuel – the One who lives with us, all of us, everywhere, no matter who we are, or where we come from.

God’s supreme demonstration of love for us is coming to earth as one of us. In this one ultimate divine act, this creator God shares with us our difficulties and our deepest hopes.
Jesus tells us to give him our burdens, hand over our worries – because he loves us that much.
This Savior born this night will carry us even when we don’t see it.

And this Savior of ours walks with all of us, and then does something more:
This Savior of ours asks us to be partners in bringing heaven to earth.

We can begin by having a relationship with this God, by truly knowing the Christ who walks among us not only tonight, but every night and every day.

This Savior of ours is telling us to spread his love in the world; not to retreat but to get out there, and live a life worthy of the extravagant love our Creator has for us this Christmas.

This Savior of ours places hope in us even when we don’t have much hope in ourselves.
Whether you have been coming here for 50 years, or whether this is the first time you have been here, don’t let Christmas end for you tonight.

Join in our Communion in a few minutes, for it is the first meal of Christmas, and a present to you and to me.

And then when you leave here tonight, keep the Hope of Christmas alive.

Look for something truly unexpected this year, something new in your life, something new in the world. Look for the Hope of Christmas every single day.

Have the courage to let the Hope of Christmas change your life – and then have the courage to change the world around you. When you do, you will be keeping the Hope of Christmas alive within you forever.

And the angel said to them: “I am bringing you good news of great joy for all the people: to you is born this day in the city of David a Savior, who is the Messiah, the Lord.” AMEN

Photo of Pulsar PSR J0108-1431 by NASA.