Baptism of our Lord

Isaiah 43:1-7

Luke 3:15-17, 21-22

Every year, just weeks after we rejoice at the Christmas story and how our Savior Jesus was born in Bethlehem, and days after we celebrate the magi’s gifts at Epiphany, we fast forward to this story and hear how our Lord Jesus - now a thirty-something year old man - was baptized in the waters of the river Jordan by his cousin John. The story is the hinge on the door through which we enter Jesus’ earthly ministry.

His ministry is christened with his Father’s words, “You are my Son, the Beloved; with you I am well pleased.” (Luke 3:22) These words are an affirmation of who God knows Jesus to be;
confirmation that he belongs to God;
and a declaration God loves him.

God’s words to Jesus in Luke’s gospel echo those in Isaiah 43 when God tells God’s people, “I have called you by name, you are mine…you are precious in my sight, and honored, and I love you.”

Affirmation. Confirmation. Declaration.

With these saving and redeeming words, God draws us into life with God.

In Isaiah, God is addressing an exiled Israel, a sinful and defeated community. And we hear God’s judgment in Isaiah 42 before these verses. God doesn’t pretend that the people haven’t sinned or turned away from God and God doesn’t give them license to ignore God’s commands and be self-indulgent.

But as the Psalmist recalls, God is the one who formed our inward parts and knit us together (Psalm 139), so God already knows us from the inside out.

And the same God who created us and witnesses our sinfulness and defiance says, “You are mine.”

God says, “You are my child and that is your identity – not your occupation, education or your income, not your politics or your neighborhood.” Our identity is only found in the Lord our God who created us and rescues us from bondage to sin.

And the Good News is that this same God – the One who created us and names us “children of God” - loves us despite our sin and brokenness.

That is grace.
Grace says, “You are enough.”
Grace says, “You made a mistake, but you are not a mistake.”
Grace says, “I love you still.”

More than thirty years ago now, in college, I hit a low point in my life where I could not hear those words. But through the people God put in my life like Lori, a classmate who later became my roommate, and Tim, a high school friend who was at JMU with us, God gave me ears to hear of God’s amazing grace and finally understand that grace was for me, too.

God’s promised and unconditional grace is at the heart of my ministry because as a pastor I get to tell you each how much God loves you even when you can’t hear it or believe it:

You, yes, you, are precious, honored and loved by God because you belong to God.

As we celebrate the Baptism of our Lord, we celebrate God’s words of affirmation, confirmation and declaration for Jesus and for us. 

In the Lutheran tradition, we recognize baptism as God’s action for us. God is saving. God is redeeming. “In the waters of baptism, we understand that God marks us and claims us as God’s children. In the waters of baptism, God seals God’s love for us, no matter what we might have done and what might happen.”[i]

So today, and every day, we are encouraged to remember our own baptisms – not necessarily the event of them, but the meaning of them. Wherever you find water, whether it’s at a bathroom sink or in the rain falling from the sky outside, when you feel the splash of water upon your face, thank God for claiming you, naming you and saving you.

Let us pray….

Good and gracious God,

Thank you for loving us so much that you sent your Son Jesus to live among your people that we would know how much you love us.

Thank you for knitting us together and forming us as your children and your people.

And thank you for your grace – abundant and bountiful, forgiving and loving – especially when we do not deserve it.

Show us how to love others with the love you have given us that they would know they too are precious, honored and loved.

We pray in the name of our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

Amen.

---

[i] David L. Bartlett; Barbara Brown Taylor. Feasting on the Word: Year C, Volume 1: Advent through Transfiguration . Presbyterian Publishing Corporation. Kindle Edition.

Fourth Sunday of Advent "Close to Home: Seeking Sanctuary"

Luke 1:39-55

One reason we tell stories from Scripture is to see where our stories connect to God’s story and to see the places where God has been at work in the stories of others so that we might recognize where God is at work in our own lives, too.

Today’s gospel invites us into one part of Mary’s story. Told by Luke, it immediately follows the annunciation when the angel Gabriel appeared to Mary and told her she would bear the son of God and she responded by saying,

“Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” (Luke 1:38 NRS)

In today’s gospel, Mary has traveled to her older relative Elizabeth’s home. Their meeting is joyful and the Holy Spirit reveals to Elizabeth the identity of the baby whom Mary is carrying. Elizabeth cries out with a blessing for Mary and Mary bursts into song.

Before I talk more about her song, the Magnificat, I wonder about Mary’s story up to this point.

Some of our hymns and carols describe Mary as ‘meek and mild’ and she is painted in Renaissance portraits of the Madonna and Child as serene and peaceful, gazing at the child cradled in her arms. The music and images reflect her peaceful and humble acceptance of her place in this story that we hear in her response to the angel.

Elsewhere when her story is told, the focus is on how fortunate she was that Joseph remained with her, emphasizing the shame that can be placed on an unwed mother. It’s possible that shame would have driven her to travel to her relative’s house and even more likely that, despite her confident response to Gabriel, Mary was filled with uncertainty and even fear. She would have wondered how Joseph, or her parents would understand and feared punishment and even stoning for a charge of adultery. Her story teaches us that faith has space for both trust in God and apprehension about the unknown.

But I wonder what other stories we could imagine for Mary?

Mary and Elizabeth exuberantly share the news of their pregnancies and their awe at what God has promised. There’s no hint of dismay or exchange of superficial pleasantries but deeply felt, genuine joy. Mary is hopeful and expectant, trusting what God has already done. Her song echoes that of Hannah and the psalmists, drawing on tradition and Scripture that would have been written on her heart.

Hearing the words of her beautiful song of resistance and redemption, one colleague imagined Mary as “young, scrappy and hungry” like Hamilton in the song “My Shot” in the musical by the same name. While only a young woman between 12 and 16, Mary seemed to see clearly and spoke with wisdom.  She named the ways that God has already cared for the lowly, hungry and poor, recalling God’s mighty acts known in Scripture.

Mary understood that God was fulfilling God’s promises to God’s people in the child she carried. She believed that God’s mercy and salvation were incarnate – made flesh – in her child.

Of course, the story would have turned out very differently if she had said, “No.” when Gabriel spoke to her. God designs us with free will; surely, Mary could have run away and hidden from God’s messengers. But she didn’t.

She cooperates with God, participating in what God asks her to do, and she gives us this song, where she declares what she knows, speaking of God’s actions in the past and claiming God’s promise for the future.

Proclaiming “my soul magnifies the Lord and my spirit rejoices in God my Savior,” Mary directs our attention to God and God’s actions for us. In Jesus, God’s salvation is already accomplished – nothing separates us from the love of God who reconciles us to God’s self and restores us to life. When parts of our stories make it impossible for us to see for ourselves how deeply God loves us, Mary invites us into her story and reminds us that the unexpected is always at hand.

Let us pray…

Holy God,

Thank you for the story of Mary, the mother of our Lord Jesus that we may witness the depth of your love for us.

Your story is one that forever invites us to be our full selves.

Give us curiosity about each person’s story that we would witness your grace and gifts in them. Help us find connections to Your story so that we can recognize where You are active in our lives even now. We pray in Jesus’ name. 

Amen.

Second Sunday of Advent "Close to Home: Laying the Foundation"

 Luke 1:68-79

Today’s psalmody wasn’t from the book of psalms at all; instead, it is one of the three canticles or songs of praise that we find in Luke’s gospel. First, we hear the Magnificat – the verses that Carol sang – that is Mary’s prophecy and hymn of praise and then later, when Jesus is presented at the temple, we hear the faithful Israelite Simeon’s prophecy and song, called the Nunc Dimittis that announces what God will do in Jesus.

These verses that we sang today, which are also called the Benedictus, are the song of Zechariah, husband to Elizabeth and father to John the Baptizer.

Earlier in the gospel, Luke told us that Zechariah, a Jewish priest, and his wife Elizabeth “had no children…and both were getting on in years.” (1:7) And then the angel Gabriel announced to Zechariah that Elizabeth would have a child and they would name him John, but Zechariah was skeptical, and the angel took away his speech until the birth of the child.

It’s during her relative Elizabeth’s pregnancy that we hear the annunciation to Mary that she will bear a son and name him Jesus, and Mary then travels and stays with Elizabeth and Zechariah for three months.

When Zechariah uses a tablet to tell the people their newborn son will be called John, his voice is restored, and Luke tells us that Zechariah was filled with the Holy Spirit and spoke these words.

His words follow an ancient Hebrew blessing format that begins with a statement of praise (1:68a), follows with the reason for that praise (1:68b-74) and concludes with a formula for praise (1:75-79). These words of blessing express more than mere thanksgiving or gratitude; instead, they reflect the certainty that God has made a promise and that what has been promised will happen.[i]

Imagine having all those months to ponder God’s promises and what God is doing through the child that Mary will bear and through the child that his own wife Elizabeth is carrying.

Luke leaves it to our imagination to hear the tone of voice Zechariah used when he spoke these words. Perhaps they were loud and jubilant, reflecting a Spirit-filled excitement, or perhaps they were delivered with Spirit-led conviction, wonder and awe.[ii]

Either way, Zechariah makes a bold proclamation, announcing what God will do with certainty even before it happens.

Remember Luke is writing after the destruction of the temple in Jerusalem, and the people Luke was addressing were living under the rule of empire. The promises and the future they had imagined appears to be in jeopardy. But here Zechariah declares that, despite Whatever else you are witnessing, God is trustworthy, and the promises of God will be fulfilled.

He is confident that God will bring about the salvation of God’s people, even though John is a newborn infant and Jesus hasn’t even been born yet. [iii]

In his words, we hear an invitation to God’s people to live in the already but not yet, living as if God has already triumphed;

living into God’s future for us, undeterred by the obstacles and challenges the world throws at us.[iv]

The foundation of our faith, and of our lives,  is God’s promises to us.

In Jesus, God promises us grace, unmerited and unearned forgiveness and mercy. God promises to rescue us from our sin and death, to protect us from our enemies and to deliver us into new lives where we are free to love God and our neighbor and we are invited to serve.

As we hear Zechariah’s words of prophecy and promise, will we sing with shouts of thanksgiving for what God has already done, in this place and in the generations who have worshiped in this congregation, and will we share his anticipation and confidence that God will continue to work in, among and through us?

There is plenty of uncertainty in the world. There is division, hatred and violence. And the pandemic lingers. It would be easy to be discouraged.

But we worship a God who overcomes and makes a way forward. A God who intervenes and brings life into barren places. A God who chooses surprising people to carry the Good News of divine love and tender mercy into a hurting and fearful world.

Like Zechariah, may we always remember this is the God to whom we sing.

Amen.

[i] Karla Suomola. Commentary on Luke 1:68-79. Luther Seminary. workingpreacher.org

[ii] Adam Hearlson. Commentary on Luke 1:68-79. Luther Seminary. workingpreacher.org

[iii] ibid

[iv] ibid

All Saints Sunday

Revelation 21:1-6a

On this All Saints Sunday, we name those who have died during the last year. While here at Ascension, only one congregation member is listed this year, there are many more names of family and friends that remind us of the tremendous losses that the last year has contained. And we must not ignore the hundreds of thousands of deaths here in the United States and millions worldwide from COVID-19.

Grief has been described as “a foreign territory with rules all its own that one only discovers by traversing the unwelcome terrain.”[i] It has its own customs and language. And often, at least in modern Western culture, it’s not a destination - someplace we want to stay. Instead, it is seen as something to “get through” like a desolate stretch of Route 66 in Nevada.

In his “Sermon on Preparing to Die” Martin Luther wrote “we should familiarize ourselves with death during our lifetime, inviting death into our presence.” He argued that we must look at death while we are alive, seeing sin in the light of grace and hell in the light of heaven and so, disarm the devil who would fill us with dread and send us running away from death and God.[ii]

Grief and death cannot be ignored or outrun, and when we try to, we risk missing the sacredness of the journey. 

In the Book of Revelation John of Patmos “narrates the reality of suffering” as he writes

a letter of comfort to seven churches undergoing persecution, urging their members to remain steadfast and assuring them that despite all appearance to the contrary, the Roman Empire’s power is not absolute; it is God who reigns supreme.[iii]

The first things that John writes about are the sources of suffering that we experience on earth.[iv] Faith does not exempt us from pain and suffering, but our text today promises us that God is present with us even as we live with feelings of anguish, sorrow and fear.

The vision John has of a new heaven and earth is one where the sea is gone. Remember that in the ancient world the sea was a place of chaos where evil and corruption prevailed, so when John says “the sea was no more”, he is saying that, in this new world that God creates, the strongholds of death, mourning and pain are destroyed. In this new world, we know a new reality unlike anything we experienced before, one where God is victorious.

The second part of John’s vision is the holy city, the new Jerusalem, coming down from heaven. Contrary to popular, fictional ideas, we are not raptured into a pristine kingdom and we do not escape this world for a heavenly reward or stars in our crowns. God comes to us. God comes down to dwell with mortals, and we find healing and new life in God’s presence.

Writing this letter of consolation, John reminds these first century communities, and us, that we know the end of the story. On the cross Christ takes your sin from you, bears it for you, and destroys it… He takes your death upon himself and strangles it so it may not harm you...In that way, Christ [is] the picture of life and grace over against the picture of death and sin.[v]

And knowing the end of the story makes all the difference.

God is present with and among us now and we are invited to ask, “Where can we see glimpses of the new city here and now?”

I believe it’s visible when we tell stories of those who have died and laugh together. Or when we share a memory, knowing that if tears come to our eyes, the person listening to us understands. Or when we hold something that belonged to the person who died or smell a familiar scent and instead of experiencing pain, we are comforted. It’s visible in each one of those moments when pain, sorrow or suffering is transformed by God’s regenerative power to make all things new again.

Let us pray…

Holy God,

Thank you for your Son Jesus whose life, death and resurrection testify to your power over death and the grave.

Help us as we mourn those who have died to remember you weep with us and hold us in our sorrow.

By your Spirit, awaken us to the life we have with you, where death, mourning and pain are destroyed.

We pray in the name of our Lord and Savior, Jesus the Christ.

Amen.

[i] Joy J. Moore on Sermon Brainwave for All Saints Sunday, November 7, 2021. https://www.workingpreacher.org/podcasts/810-all-saints-sunday-nov-7-2021

[ii] Martin Luther. “A Sermon on Preparing to Die.” Martin Luther’s Basic Theological Writings, 2nd Edition. Timothy Lull (Ed.) 420-421.

[iii] David L. Bartlett; Barbara Brown Taylor. Feasting on the Word: Year B, Volume 4: Season after Pentecost 2 (Propers 17-Reign of Christ) (Kindle Locations 8440-8443). Presbyterian Publishing Corporation. Kindle Edition.

[iv] Rene’ Such Schreiner. “Commentary of Revelation 21:1-6a”. Luther Seminary. workingpreacher.org

[v] Luther. 422.

Reformation Sunday

 John 8:31-36

As often as the Revised Common Lectionary dips in and out of John’s gospel during its three-year cycle of readings, I had never noticed that we never hear chapters 7 and 8 except when we read this gospel on Reformation Sunday.

Just as we do when a lectionary reading skips verses, it’s good practice to ask, “Why?” when whole chapters are left out. One answer is that the chapters are challenging theologically. Another reason is probably that there’s not a central event – no miracles, or as John calls them, signs. And a third reason is that the dialog between the religious leaders and Jesus in these verses is highly charged and has been misused to stoke anti-Semitism.[i] The danger signs are there, and we stay away. But those difficulties are precisely why we should try to understand the text clearly.

A couple of years ago here at Ascension we hosted an author and speaker who taught about Jewish festivals or celebrations; maybe you remember that in Judaism, the festivals are centered around important times in Israel’s history. One of those festivals, Sukkot (soo kowt) or the Festival of Booths or Tabernacles, is the setting for today’s text. “[Sukkot] was one of three pilgrimage festivals that brought Jews from all regions of Palestine to Jerusalem and the temple.” A fall festival, it celebrated the end of the harvest and God’s provision. During the weeklong celebration, the Jewish people also recalled God’s protection in the wilderness wanderings after they fled from Egypt and slavery under the Pharoah.[ii]

So that’s the setting for this dialog between Jesus and his audience, where he tells them, “If you continue in my word, you are truly my disciples; 32 and you will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.” (8:31-32)

And that’s the backdrop against which they respond to him by saying, “We…have never been slaves to anyone. What do you mean by saying, ‘You will be made free?’” (8:33)

The people are there in Jerusalem, celebrating God’s deliverance of their ancestors from slavery but at the very same time, they deny that their ancestors have ever been slaves. And they reject the idea that they remain enslaved to sin even now.

A comparison can be made to a person living in active addiction. In the midst of active addiction, you may recognize other people who have drinking or drug problems, but you cannot see yourself as “one of those people.” Your habits aren’t as bad as theirs. It’s always preferable to notice and point out the faults of others and draw attention away from one’s own brokenness.[iii] In active addiction, you cannot see the destructive power that shapes your thoughts and controls your actions. You think you are managing your drinking or using.

And that’s why the very first step in a twelve-step recovery program is, “Admit you are powerless over your drug of choice- that your life has become unmanageable.”

When Jesus says, “everyone who commits sin is a slave to sin.” (8:34), he is calling us all to recognize our own powerlessness over sin, and our enslavement to it. “[We are] hardly free from sin; [we] are recovering sinners.[iv]

“We cannot through our own strength and understanding believe in the Lord, come to him, or serve him.”[v] Coming to God and serving God absolutely requires God’s action for us first.  

And that’s what Jesus promises here. God sees our sin and recognizes the ways we are enslaved even when we cannot. God rescues us and provides for us, just as God has done throughout the history of the people of God.

In Christ, we are set free, not only from sin but for relationship. In Christ, we become God’s children, and given a place in God’s household, and that place can never be taken away.

In God’s kingdom, there is a permanent place for you and for me.

And that is the Good News we celebrate this Reformation Sunday. Where human memory, egos and institutions may fail, God’s promise endures. God’s Holy Spirit is at work, redeeming us and our stories and awakening us to who we are as God’s people and the possibilities that God is creating in our midst.

Retired Bishop Leonard Bolick, who is now the acting executive director for the outdoor ministries in our ELCA region, recently shared an update about the ministries, and in it he named how difficult it can be to look at the past, to stand in the present, and to focus on the future.[vi] But that is what we are called to do: to know what God has done and is doing and to have confidence in what God will do, for us and for the world.

Let us pray…

Good and gracious God,

Thank you for seeing us clearly in our brokenness and forgiving us, even when we cannot see where we are hurting or the ways we hurt others.

Thank you for ever-forming and re-forming us as your people; for calling us to you and restoring us to be who you have created us to be.

And, thank you for giving us a place in your kingdom where you call us to participate in what you are doing in the world.

Help us to follow your Son, to listen to your Word, and be enlivened and sent forth by your Spirit.

Amen.

[i] Karoline M. Lewis. John (Fortress Biblical Preaching Commentaries) (p. 105). Fortress Press. Kindle Edition.

[ii] Lewis. 107.

[iii] Cynthia A. Jarvis; Elizabeth Johnson. Feasting on the Gospels--John, Volume 1: A Feasting on the Word Commentary. Westminster John Knox Press. Kindle Edition.

[iv] Jarvis.

[v] Rolf Jacobson. “Holy Spirit Reformation.” https://www.workingpreacher.org/dear-working-preacher/holy-spirit-reformation

[vi] The Reverend Leonard Bolick. https://vimeo.com/637231485

Fifth Sunday after Epiphany

Mark 1:29-39

Today’s gospel is actually the next chapter of the story that began with last week’s gospel. Verse 29 says, “As soon they left the synagogue,” so we know it’s still the Sabbath but there are some things we don’t know.

The first thing I wish we knew is the name of the woman whom Jesus heals, but she’s only identified as Simon’s mother in law, and we never learn her name. It’s not surprising. The majority of women referenced in the Bible are anonymous and silent, never being named and never speaking.

I want to know who and where her daughter is. Is Simon married or perhaps is he widowed and caring for his mother-in-law?

I also wonder who else is in the household? Mark says, “Immediately they told Jesus about the woman ill with fever” but we don’t know who is included in “they.” Were there household servants? Other family? We don’t know.

And finally, we don’t know how sick she was or how long she had suffered. We don’t know whether the fever was a symptom of biological and medical disease, or if she believed, as was common at that time, that the fever was a sign of some social or cultural failing, the consequence of some undisclosed sin.[i]

What we do know is that, in Mark’s gospel, the very first miracles that Jesus, the Holy One of God, does are acts that restore people to their community and family. He has exorcised demons and healed the sick and he’s done both of these miracles on the Sabbath.

I don’t think Jesus breaks the Sabbath out of disregard for the law, but out of a commitment to a higher priority of justice and mercy, rooted in love. This story begs the question Jesus gives to the religious leaders in Luke 6 when Jesus asks,

 9 … “is it lawful to do good or to do harm on the sabbath, to save life or to destroy it?” (Luke 6:9)

Jesus gives us new life, united with him, in faith.

Mark says, Jesus took this woman by the hand, and lifted her up, or raised her. The Greek here is the same word for resurrection. Her healing isn’t the result of anything she has done or said. Faith is not mentioned in this miracle story. It is only the presence of Jesus that brings healing and rids her of her fever.

Healed by Jesus, the woman then begins to serve him and the others.

Unfortunately there have been times when this text has been misused to restrict women in the Church to submissive roles, but the word used here to describe the woman’s service is the same word used to describe the angels who ministered to Jesus, or waited on him, in the wilderness. (1:13)

For this woman, her healing restores her ability to live out her vocation, as a διάκονος or deacon who uses her spiritual gifts from God in the service of others.

Jesus raises us to new life, so that we will know the fullness or abundance of life God desires for each of us.

The hymn “Arise, Your Light Has Come!” is an Epiphany hymn that draws on passages from Isaiah including the verse that provides the refrain we are using right now in our weeknight prayer services: “Arise, your light has come. The Glory of the Lord is rising upon you”[ii] The hymn’s lyrics proclaim

The Spirit's call obey; show forth the glory of your God which shines on you today.

In our lives, using the gifts we have been given, we shine forth God’s glory and show God’s love and mercy to the people we meet.

We don’t know why Mark pairs these miracle stories together. Perhaps the gospel writer framed them as a glimpse into the day of the Messiah, or he wanted to demonstrate that Jesus’ saving power was for all people - men and women, young and old - or he wanted to illustrate that the power of the God in Jesus was effective not only in holy places, where a miracle might be expected, but also in common places like homes and neighborhoods. [iii]  Maybe all of the above.

Whatever his reason was, during this season after Epiphany when we remember that Christ send us, as his disciples and followers, to all nations, it feels important to remember that we don’t get to set limits on God’s saving action.

Our role is to share the good news of God’s love with all, trusting that the presence and power and grace of God will accomplish what God intends.

Reflecting on this short story of the healing of Simon’s mother in law – really just the first three verses of our Gospel today – I wonder, when have you experienced the healing power of Jesus’ presence? When has Jesus taken you by the hand and lifted you up?

Just this week, during a hospital shift I experienced this through a colleague’s presence and words. I had just led family members out of the hospital after spending time with them and their loved one in the emergency room, and I was weighed down by the heaviness of their worries when I crossed paths with my friend. We went together into the chapel and talked, reflecting on how Jesus had been present during that visit particularly. It was a good reminder for me that God calls us to particular people and situations and gifts us with what we need to be servants to those we encounter.

I pray you experience the healing power of Jesus’ presence in your own life and let the light of God shining on you reflect God’s mercy and love into the world.

Amen.

[i] Brian Stoffregen. Exegetical Notes on Mark 1:29-39.

[ii] Text: Ruth Duck, b. 1947. Text © 1992 GIA Publications, Inc., 7404 S. Mason Ave., Chicago, IL 60638. www.giamusic.com. 800.442.3358. All rights reserved. Used by permission.

[iii] Stoffregen.

Nativity of our Lord (Christmas Eve)

Luke 2:1-20

Grace and peace to you from God our Father and our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

A few weeks ago I told some of you how I only discovered the author Madeleine L’Engle a couple of years ago. A storyteller best known for writing A Wrinkle in Time L’Engle also wrote this book, The Twenty-Four Days Before Christmas. In this story, a young awkward girl, a middle child named Vicky is going to be in the church Christmas play and she has been given the role of the angel who announces the birth of the baby Jesus. In Vicky’s own words, L’Engle tells us about her worries and fears and how she prepares. We also hear about her mother who is preparing for their own baby’s arrival.

On the twelfth day before Christmas Vicky is practicing her lines when one of the grown-ups wonders out loud if Vicky’s mother will be home at Christmas, or if she will be at the hospital with the new baby. And suddenly, all of the little girl’s expectations for the Christmas play, and for this new baby, are turned upside down, and she is afraid. She even tells her daddy, “Let’s not have the baby!”

On the twenty-third of December, the children have their dress rehearsal, everyone is beautifully prepared, and snow begins to fall, promising a white Christmas. But the snow doesn’t stop, and by the next day, on Christmas Eve, the snow is too deep for anyone to travel and the play is cancelled.

At the end of the story, Vicky and her family are at home together when their new baby arrives early Christmas morning, and after he is born, when Vicky looks out her window, she sees the bright Christmas star shining in the clear, dark sky.

Expectation, waiting, fear and wonder are all part of our Christmas stories too.

At the time of Jesus’ birth, ancient Israel had been expecting the promised Messiah or Savior to come and set them free from the oppressive Roman empire. They remembered the stories of David and they were waiting for a new Shepherd King to bring about a new realm or Kingdom here on earth and challenge the rulers and governors.

Truly, I tell you, hope is born on earth tonight as a tiny baby whose name is Jesus.

But the advent or arrival of this Messiah upends all expectations:
Instead of being clothed in majestic purple robes, he is wrapped in bands of simple cloth;
instead of laying in a gilded cradle, he lays in an animal trough,
and instead of being celebrated by royal officials,
his first visitors are humble shepherds who leave their flocks to go to Bethlehem to see what God has done.

Luke and Matthew are the only gospel writers who tell us anything about the birth of Jesus. Luke especially is careful to locate his gospel in history and draw our attention to the people to whom God first brings the Good News of Great Joy. Beginning with Mary and her relative Elizabeth and then the shepherds, Luke shows how God works in the lives of powerless people whom the world would like to ignore, turning the world upside down to invite us into a new Kingdom that is being born.

And the shepherds, like Mary before them, first are terrified, and then express wonder and amazement and in the end praise God for coming into their lives.

Tonight as we are here singing and listening again to the story of Jesus being born into the world,
we are filled with the hope found in faith in Christ Jesus,
and we are invited to share in all of the responses that the people felt that First Christmas:
to acknowledge our fears about what is happening in the world or things we do not understand;
to enjoy the wonder and awe of seeing God’s promise of salvation — forgiveness and grace — fulfilled;
to look upon the world amazed that God includes us in the
unfolding story of God’s Kingdom on earth; and,
to glorify and praise God even as we return to our lives and work in the days ahead.

Let us pray:
Holy God,
Thank you for the gift of Your Son Jesus, born this night to save us from our sin and sorrow;
May we know hope this Christmas as the Holy Spirit, the Wonderful Counselor, makes the good news known to us and through us.
Amen.

Maundy Thursday

Mark 12:22-42

Grace, mercy and peace to you from God our Father and from our LORD Jesus Christ.

I don’t know about you but many of my favorite memories feature food. I often tell a story about my grandmother, who didn’t bake, except for meringues, but she always had pantry shelves filled with Pepperidge Farm cookies. I remember too, as a child, going to my friend’s Polish Catholic parish where we ate cabbage rolls, potatoes and sweet pastries. I remember Sunday brunch with hearts of palm and dinners where roast beast was carved at the table. I remember my mother’s paella and coq au vin and eating barbecue and Brunswick stew from Creedmoor. But these food memories aren’t just from childhood.

Two years ago, a group of folks here in Shelby created a community Thanksgiving meal.
Inviting people to come and eat,
they took donations of turkeys and side dishes, sweet tea and desserts;
they prayed before the meal to bless the gifts of food and presence that had been given;
they broke bread, opened chafing dishes of mashed potatoes and green beans, uncovered pie plates and tins of cookies;
and gave the bounty to the neighbors who gathered.

Somehow gathering around a table for a meal fills more than our bellies and nourishes our bodies; it contents our hearts and strengthens us for what lies ahead.

Tonight, on Maundy Thursday, named for the mandatum, or command, that Jesus gives his disciples in John’s Gospel “to love one another as I have loved you,” we inhabit another part of the story from the night of Jesus’ arrest — the meal. In John’s Gospel, it is not a Passover meal, but in the synoptic gospels – Mark, Matthew and Luke – it is, and that’s significant because the Passover meal is not just about sated appetites, full bellies and nourished bodies; it is an act of remembering the mighty act of God’s salvation — God’s rescue —from death and slavery.

The people of Israel were enslaved by the king of Egypt, and when he would not free them, God promised judgment against the people there; the Israelites were told to mark their doorposts with the blood of a slaughtered lamb and the blood would be a sign of the covenant they had with God, and God would pass over their households and save them. (Exodus 12) After his own people suffered God’s judgment, Pharaoh let the Israelites go and they fled Egypt but throughout their journey to the Holy Land, God accompanied them.

In the same way, the meal we share at the Table every time we celebrate Holy Communion together remembers the mighty act of God’s salvation in our lives.

In his Small Catechism, Martin Luther explains, “The words ‘given for you’ and ‘shed for you’ for the forgiveness of sins show us that the forgiveness of sin, life and salvation are given to us ….”[i] “The treasure is opened and placed …upon the table [for everyone.]”[ii]And he reminds us that it is not our eating and drinking that do it, but “the bread and wine set within God’s Word and bound to it.”[iii]

Daily, we are in bondage to sin and cannot free ourselves. But, unfailingly, God rescues us, delivering us “from sin, death and the devil.”[iv]

Again, hear Martin Luther’s teaching, “There are so many hindrances and attacks of the devil and the world that we often grow weary and faint at times even stumble…the devil is a furious enemy;…when he cannot rout us by force, he sneaks and skulks at every turn, trying all kinds of tricks, and does not stop until he has finally worn us out….For times like these, …the Lord’s Supper is given to bring us new strength and refreshment. ”[v]

On this Maundy Thursday night, like the disciples often did, we want to deny what is going to happen to Jesus. We want to remember the scene the way Leonardo Da Vinci painted it: an upper room with a festive table overflowing with food and wine where Jesus and his disciples gathered. We want the garden to be filled with birds’ night song and the sweet aroma of fresh blooms, instead of the shouts of soldiers and the pungent smell of burial spices.

But tonight, especially, we cannot deny Jesus’ fate. Gathered here tonight, we are bearing witness not to a farewell party, but to the last meal of a condemned man, because we cannot get to the joy of Easter without first seeing Jesus stripped and mocked and finally, executed.

As darkness falls, we join the whole company of disciples around the world and across time who come to this Table, confessing our sin and naming our need for God, confident that God gives us “food for the soul [ that] nourishes and strengthens [us for what lies ahead.]”[vi]

Thanks be to God.

[i] Martin Luther, “Small Catechism,” Book of Concord. 362.
[ii] Martin Luther. “Large Catechism,” Book of Concord. 470.
[iii] ibid 467.
[iv] ibid 459
[v] ibid 469.
[vi] ibid